Minerva Messinger. Mr. Greene’s comments about Betsy Ross seemed to mollify Minerva, as if to say Betsy Ross might not have sewn the first flag, but she was a true, red, white and blue American. Minerva’s face seemed to register relief, as if her heroine was a Patriot after all.
Victor knew Mr. Greene liked to show off now and then for his students, and his students generally indulged him with an “ooh” or an “ah,” although what Mr. Greene found amazing didn’t always coincide with what a teenager with raging hormones knew to be important: the weekend. Then again, teenage boys were always receptive to Mr. Greene’s rehashing of the Pocahontas legend when he revealed the Powhatan princess was fond of doing cartwheels through the muddy streets of Jamestown, dressed only in her birthday suit. Now that was something one didn’t see in the Disney version, Victor told himself. Victor verified Mr. Greene’s claims of the R-rated version of Pocahontas in The People’s Almanac , which confirmed her sullied reputation, but he found it hard to forgive Mr. Greene for his terrible pun on tobacco cultivation in Virginia. Pocahontas and her husband John Rolfe, Mr. Greene said, introduced tobacco into Jamestown and saved the colony “just in the nicotine.”
“Mr. Greene?” Victor said, an idea crystallizing in his head.
“Yes?”
“If Mrs. Ross made a horizontally striped flag of thirteen bars in alternating colors of red and white for the Pennsylvania Navy as you say, might that not be the source of the Stars and Stripes legend, and the family mixed up the two?”
“That’s an interesting idea, Victor. It truly is. According to the legend though, Mrs. Ross made the flag in June 1776. If that is so, why is it not flying above the cupola of the Pennsylvania State House? For this is July 1776, is it not? You know, President Woodrow Wilson was once asked about the Ross legend, and his remark was: ‘Would that it were true!’”
“I didn’t know that,” Victor said, impressed once again at Mr. Greene’s depth of knowledge.
“Victor,” Mr. Greene said suddenly in a confidential tone. “We must keep a sharp eye out for Caesar Rodney.”
“What does he look like, Mr. Greene?”
“Now, there is the rub, Victor. There are no portraits of Rodney. I think he was sensitive because of his skin cancer. Lesions and so forth. He didn’t sit for a portrait. But we need his riding crop to return. It has something to do with the space-time continuum. The Beards gave me the riding crop, but Rodney used it until the afternoon of July 2, 1776—which is, of course, today. After he arrived at the Pennsylvania State House he lost track of the riding crop, and the Beards bought it from an antiquities dealer sometime in the early 20 th century. I once used it for a visit on July 4 th and that time the riding crop did not disappear. So, it seems Rodney lost the stick on the afternoon of the 2 nd when he tossed it into the air. So it is your job, Victor, to catch the riding crop when Rodney throws it.”
“My job?”
“Yes. You are the president of The History Channelers, are you not?”
“Yes, but…”
“Mind your step, Victor,” Mr. Greene cautioned, using a British expression.
Victor nimbly avoided some horse droppings. The Beards seemed amused by Victor’s expedient display of hopscotch, smiling at him. I’m glad I make you laugh, Victor thought, wondering if ghosts had telepathic powers. It was one thing to be a ghost, but to be a snobbish ghost? Shelby Foote had been so cordial the spring before.
Victor gave his iPod a surreptitious glance. It was 10:00 A.M. They crossed Market Street over to Chestnut Street.
“Look,” Mr. Greene pointed. “The delegates are congregating outside the Pennsylvania State House. Remember, kids, what Bette reminded us about: It’s not Independence Hall yet, so please don’t use that name around the folks. Rodney should be arriving after lunch. About 1:30, as I recall.
Victor knew Mr. Greene liked to show off now and then for his students, and his students generally indulged him with an “ooh” or an “ah,” although what Mr. Greene found amazing didn’t always coincide with what a teenager with raging hormones knew to be important: the weekend. Then again, teenage boys were always receptive to Mr. Greene’s rehashing of the Pocahontas legend when he revealed the Powhatan princess was fond of doing cartwheels through the muddy streets of Jamestown, dressed only in her birthday suit. Now that was something one didn’t see in the Disney version, Victor told himself. Victor verified Mr. Greene’s claims of the R-rated version of Pocahontas in The People’s Almanac , which confirmed her sullied reputation, but he found it hard to forgive Mr. Greene for his terrible pun on tobacco cultivation in Virginia. Pocahontas and her husband John Rolfe, Mr. Greene said, introduced tobacco into Jamestown and saved the colony “just in the nicotine.”
“Mr. Greene?” Victor said, an idea crystallizing in his head.
“Yes?”
“If Mrs. Ross made a horizontally striped flag of thirteen bars in alternating colors of red and white for the Pennsylvania Navy as you say, might that not be the source of the Stars and Stripes legend, and the family mixed up the two?”
“That’s an interesting idea, Victor. It truly is. According to the legend though, Mrs. Ross made the flag in June 1776. If that is so, why is it not flying above the cupola of the Pennsylvania State House? For this is July 1776, is it not? You know, President Woodrow Wilson was once asked about the Ross legend, and his remark was: ‘Would that it were true!’”
“I didn’t know that,” Victor said, impressed once again at Mr. Greene’s depth of knowledge.
“Victor,” Mr. Greene said suddenly in a confidential tone. “We must keep a sharp eye out for Caesar Rodney.”
“What does he look like, Mr. Greene?”
“Now, there is the rub, Victor. There are no portraits of Rodney. I think he was sensitive because of his skin cancer. Lesions and so forth. He didn’t sit for a portrait. But we need his riding crop to return. It has something to do with the space-time continuum. The Beards gave me the riding crop, but Rodney used it until the afternoon of July 2, 1776—which is, of course, today. After he arrived at the Pennsylvania State House he lost track of the riding crop, and the Beards bought it from an antiquities dealer sometime in the early 20 th century. I once used it for a visit on July 4 th and that time the riding crop did not disappear. So, it seems Rodney lost the stick on the afternoon of the 2 nd when he tossed it into the air. So it is your job, Victor, to catch the riding crop when Rodney throws it.”
“My job?”
“Yes. You are the president of The History Channelers, are you not?”
“Yes, but…”
“Mind your step, Victor,” Mr. Greene cautioned, using a British expression.
Victor nimbly avoided some horse droppings. The Beards seemed amused by Victor’s expedient display of hopscotch, smiling at him. I’m glad I make you laugh, Victor thought, wondering if ghosts had telepathic powers. It was one thing to be a ghost, but to be a snobbish ghost? Shelby Foote had been so cordial the spring before.
Victor gave his iPod a surreptitious glance. It was 10:00 A.M. They crossed Market Street over to Chestnut Street.
“Look,” Mr. Greene pointed. “The delegates are congregating outside the Pennsylvania State House. Remember, kids, what Bette reminded us about: It’s not Independence Hall yet, so please don’t use that name around the folks. Rodney should be arriving after lunch. About 1:30, as I recall.
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