C’mon, let’s go meet the Founding Fathers.”
“No Founding Mothers, of course,” Bette Kromer groused.
“Most unfair, Bette,” Mr. Greene agreed. “I mean, John Adams’ wife, Abigail, wrote to her husband to ‘please remember the ladies,’ but the men of the 18 th century could not think of women as their political equals.”
“Or social equals,” Bette added. Victor found her frown to be quite unpleasant and a bit unnerving, as if Bette Kromer was actually an angry Amazon ready to impale the delegates on a lamppost.
“Please, Bette,” Mr. Greene said. “Don’t kill the messenger, no pun intended. It’s not my fault. Let’s walk quietly by them and see if we can pick up some conversation.”
Victor noticed the street was busy and crowded on this workday morning, and delegates milling outside the state house gave no special attention to his group. Like a tour guide, Mr. Greene held up his hand, and the students stopped. “There’s Dr. Witherspoon from New Jersey,” he said. “The actress Reese Witherspoon is his direct descendant.”
“Really?” Minerva asked.
“Really,” Mr. Greene assured her.
“Boy could the gals here use Elle Woods from Legally Blonde, ” Bette Kromer said.
Victor looked at Bette. She seemed to have calmed down a bit, as if she had put away her Amazonian shield.
“Ah yes, Bette,” Mr. Greene replied, but he put his finger to his mouth in a “shhhh” sign. “Let’s listen,” he said as he led the group to within eavesdropping range.
Victor was mesmerized. Frizzy haired Benjamin Franklin in the flesh—the hundred-dollar bill came to life before his eyes.
“If you’d not be forgotten, as soon as you are dead and rotten,” Dr. Franklin was saying. “Either write things worth reading or do things worth the writing. I believe Mr. Jefferson is working on the former while we should concentrate on the latter.”
“Independence would be worth the writing, Dr. Franklin,” the rotund John Adams replied. “What say you, Paine, on the subject?”
Victor saw the crooked beak of the author of Common Sense and wondered if he could pick up an original copy in a local bookstore. And why not? The book had sold 120,000 copies and inspired many across the colonies to demand independence from Great Britain. Who was the man standing with Thomas Paine? He whispered that question to Mr. Greene. “Doctor Benjamin Rush,” Mr. Greene replied in a low voice. “He inspired Thomas Paine to write Common Sense , and even gave him the title. He was the most influential physician of his generation, although he swore by bloodletting. Bloodletting killed George Washington, remember?”
Victor nodded and listened for Paine’s retort.
Thomas Paine looked down his long nose and replied to Adams with the hint of a sneer: “Mr. Adams, I am not a delegate to the convention and I am tired of being a subject.”
“He has too much ‘common sense’ for that,” Benjamin Franklin quipped, laughing at the “paineful” pun.
Oh no, Victor thought. Was the punning Franklin Mr. Greene’s ancestor?
“Port again for breakfast, Dr. Franklin?” Paine smiled.
Benjamin Franklin’s cheeks were exceedingly rosy, Victor noticed, but Franklin laughed at Paine’s remark and said to John Adams, “Mr. Adams, shall we walk down to Graff House and see how young Mr. Jefferson is coming with his draft?”
“In a moment, Dr. Franklin. I am waiting for Mr. Rodney to arrive. I received word that he is riding in from Delaware to break that colony’s vote on independence. We need independence declared or we will be seen as traitors.”
“Yes,” Franklin smiled. “There is much to what you say, and we could be drawn and quartered, Mr. Adams. Is that not right, Doctor Rush?”
Victor listened attentively. He knew nothing of Benjamin Rush except the overview that Mr. Greene had provided.
“I should think King George would give us a tug on the hemp, Doctor Franklin, as you indicated by your
“No Founding Mothers, of course,” Bette Kromer groused.
“Most unfair, Bette,” Mr. Greene agreed. “I mean, John Adams’ wife, Abigail, wrote to her husband to ‘please remember the ladies,’ but the men of the 18 th century could not think of women as their political equals.”
“Or social equals,” Bette added. Victor found her frown to be quite unpleasant and a bit unnerving, as if Bette Kromer was actually an angry Amazon ready to impale the delegates on a lamppost.
“Please, Bette,” Mr. Greene said. “Don’t kill the messenger, no pun intended. It’s not my fault. Let’s walk quietly by them and see if we can pick up some conversation.”
Victor noticed the street was busy and crowded on this workday morning, and delegates milling outside the state house gave no special attention to his group. Like a tour guide, Mr. Greene held up his hand, and the students stopped. “There’s Dr. Witherspoon from New Jersey,” he said. “The actress Reese Witherspoon is his direct descendant.”
“Really?” Minerva asked.
“Really,” Mr. Greene assured her.
“Boy could the gals here use Elle Woods from Legally Blonde, ” Bette Kromer said.
Victor looked at Bette. She seemed to have calmed down a bit, as if she had put away her Amazonian shield.
“Ah yes, Bette,” Mr. Greene replied, but he put his finger to his mouth in a “shhhh” sign. “Let’s listen,” he said as he led the group to within eavesdropping range.
Victor was mesmerized. Frizzy haired Benjamin Franklin in the flesh—the hundred-dollar bill came to life before his eyes.
“If you’d not be forgotten, as soon as you are dead and rotten,” Dr. Franklin was saying. “Either write things worth reading or do things worth the writing. I believe Mr. Jefferson is working on the former while we should concentrate on the latter.”
“Independence would be worth the writing, Dr. Franklin,” the rotund John Adams replied. “What say you, Paine, on the subject?”
Victor saw the crooked beak of the author of Common Sense and wondered if he could pick up an original copy in a local bookstore. And why not? The book had sold 120,000 copies and inspired many across the colonies to demand independence from Great Britain. Who was the man standing with Thomas Paine? He whispered that question to Mr. Greene. “Doctor Benjamin Rush,” Mr. Greene replied in a low voice. “He inspired Thomas Paine to write Common Sense , and even gave him the title. He was the most influential physician of his generation, although he swore by bloodletting. Bloodletting killed George Washington, remember?”
Victor nodded and listened for Paine’s retort.
Thomas Paine looked down his long nose and replied to Adams with the hint of a sneer: “Mr. Adams, I am not a delegate to the convention and I am tired of being a subject.”
“He has too much ‘common sense’ for that,” Benjamin Franklin quipped, laughing at the “paineful” pun.
Oh no, Victor thought. Was the punning Franklin Mr. Greene’s ancestor?
“Port again for breakfast, Dr. Franklin?” Paine smiled.
Benjamin Franklin’s cheeks were exceedingly rosy, Victor noticed, but Franklin laughed at Paine’s remark and said to John Adams, “Mr. Adams, shall we walk down to Graff House and see how young Mr. Jefferson is coming with his draft?”
“In a moment, Dr. Franklin. I am waiting for Mr. Rodney to arrive. I received word that he is riding in from Delaware to break that colony’s vote on independence. We need independence declared or we will be seen as traitors.”
“Yes,” Franklin smiled. “There is much to what you say, and we could be drawn and quartered, Mr. Adams. Is that not right, Doctor Rush?”
Victor listened attentively. He knew nothing of Benjamin Rush except the overview that Mr. Greene had provided.
“I should think King George would give us a tug on the hemp, Doctor Franklin, as you indicated by your
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