As The American Locket opens, we find family patriarch Emilio Castiglione looking down upon his funeral luncheon from Heaven as his family mourns his passing. But as they tell stories about him and learn never-before known facts about his life, he is above learning that there was much more to his "life" than just the eight decades he spent on earth. In heaven, Emilio discovers that within every person (and, more expansively, within every family) lies the secrets of the ages- the concept that in our souls we all harbor a little piece of every ancestor from whom we have descended- a part of them that is eternal, immortal. But who are these people? To Emilio, part of heaven means finding that out. But a family doesn't begin and end with one person's history!
After the death of his first wife, Andriana who emigrated to America from the same little Italian town he did, Emilio remarries a woman of German and Great British decent named Rose. Unbeknownst to her, many of Rose's ancestors have been Americans from the very earliest days in our nation's history. In fact, one of her great grandfathers played an integral role in a period of American history that, you could say, was quite... revolutionary.
I figured that to preview a book called The American Locket, why not start with the most patriotic story? It is my pleasure and honor to share with you today a small piece of Rose's Story: "John Henry James" in the sincerest hope that you like it and will share your thoughts with me. Enjoy.
Rose's Story:
John Henry James
Boston, Massachusetts
1773 AD
“It’s so bloody dark, Sam. How’re we supposed to make our way through?”
“Faith, John Henry. Allow your faith in our mission to guide you…” Sam whispered, “and quit stepping all over my damn feet with those obscene clodhoppers! What proper Indian wears English boots with his loincloth, I ask you?”
“What proper Indian shows up to a political protest forgetting to bring a lantern? And smelling like a brewery!”
“I did not forget the lanterns! Hancock forgot the lanterns! And I will have you know that I have more than once encountered an Indian who has smelled of brewery. Two, I think. Yes, at least two.”
“Enough, you children! Keep your voices down!” John Hancock yelled, clearly perturbed by Sam’s lantern accusation. After all, it was Sam Adams who was supposedly the leader of these Sons of Liberty and, thus, in charge of this secret mission… and its lanterns. But John Henry James was right about two things. Sam Adams did, indeed, smell like a walking mug of beer tonight, and sometimes that was the norm. Few could blame him. Every man has his passions, and for Samuel Adams, those passions were liberty and lager- interests that often went hand in hand for him. The other astute observation was that it was quite dark that night and cold as hell in Boston Harbour. Especially for a group of patriots dressed up as Mohawk natives.
“Alright, you lot of radicals. Let’s do what we came here to do, and I’ll meet you all ‘round the pub again at midnight,” Sam Adams said, smiling at his compatriots. They were as ungainly a bunch of Indians as Boston Harbour had ever seen, standing there looking mischievously at each other, white, pasty and hairy in their buckskin loincloths in the cold Massachusetts night air.
“In all utter seriousness though,” Paul began, solemnly, emotionally. But Sam Adams started to laugh and John Henry James released a snicker along with his friend.
“Oh, here he goes once again,” Sam chortled, impatiently. “Tell us, Paul. Tell us about the importance of this mission and the impact it shall one day have on ol’ King George and his treatment of his New World subjects. Because I, for one, am in no certain hurry to return to my britches and beer.”
Even John Hancock had to laugh. So did Isaiah Thomas and Ben Edes and James Swan and Joseph Warren and Thomas Young and the other Sons of Liberty- they all laughed in spite of themselves as they stood dressed up in Indian costumes upon the deck of the British import ship that listed unsettlingly in the frigid New England waters.
“Well then,” Paul Revere sniffed, defensively. “I do not mean to keep you men from your pants and your pints. Or whatever you’ve said!” He said it like a snotty little girl whose… tea party was being rushed.
John Henry James looked at his haughty friend Paul Revere. He reached out and laid a hand upon Revere’s bare shoulder. The chuckles fell away, but the smiles remained.
“Paul, we know. This night we make history. We rise up for what we believe in and for the country we’ve fought to create. Tonight King George will learn that in America we will not allow our hard-earned money to be taken and our voices to be silenced.”
The men were quiet at John Henry’s thoughtful words. He grinned at Paul Revere and at the rest of the Sons of Liberty. Sam Adams smacked John Henry on his bare back. “Hear, hear! Now, Revere, if you’re done pouting, be a good lad and help me hoist this chest to sink their damn British tea to the bottom of Boston Harbour!”
Paul Revere smiled and aided John Henry James in lifting the chest up over the ship’s rail. They released it and a second later, the Sons heard the most fantastic splash as the symbol of America’s monarchial oppression sunk deeper and deeper into the drink.
From the hold, another group of disguised men hauled more giant chests of East India brand tea up from below, and one by one, the horde of angry colonists tossed them over board. Headdresses flapped in the wind, loincloths blew about, the curse words flew, but there was no violence at all. Although, there was a fair bit of testosterone-fueled yelling. A right bit of preening. And even a touch of malice.
“Take that, Georgie boy!”
“Tax THIS!”
“Freedom for America!”
“Rise up!”
“Give me liberty or give me death!” (Revere wanted ol’ Patrick Henry to be there in spirit.) These were some of the protest cries that sounded through the Bostonian air that night as some 340 chests of heavily taxed British tea were tossed into the sea. But there was one cry that was much more refined and poignant. In fact, it had come to be the rallying cry that led to this incident. There, on a British trade ship in Boston Harbour, the trio of Paul Revere, John Hancock and Sam Adams heaved the very last tea chest from the ship’s hold together and said the Sons of Liberty’s motto in unison: “No taxation without representation.” And they threw the last chest overboard.
As they watched it sink, they all stood silent. Hopefully this was the beginning of the end, they thought, but they knew it wasn’t. After going into debt for a costly war with France for custody of North America, the victorious British decided the American colonies needed to pay their share of the debts. After all, the colonies were still British territories and were being offered trade and protection by their motherland. Why shouldn’t they pay?
But to be charged heinously expensive taxes on British goods with no American representative being invited to join the British Parliament? No American voice was allowed to weigh in on the laws governing America? That was not justice, it was not fair trade, and it was not diplomacy at all. It was tyranny. And tonight was the first time the colonists had truly fought back. England would hear their message, and the message was this: You tell us we can only buy British tea and then you tax it to death? You want to tariff our own goods so steeply that we cannot afford them? You want to look down on us because we still stand for the very freedoms that made us leave you to begin with? Well, here’s what we think of you, your government, your “protection,” your goods, your taxes, and your damn tea. Welcome to the Boston Tea Party.
***
When he was not half-naked dumping tea into Boston Harbour, John Henry James was a postman. His beginnings were as humble as he was. Like his most accomplished and influential friend Benjamin Franklin, John Henry was the son of a candlemaker. The seventh son, to be precise; whereas Franklin had been the 10th. But he had not yet risen through the ranks in the American colonies to quite the acclaim Franklin had.
As such, the other Tea Partyists- Revere, Hancock, Adams and the nameless rest- liked John Henry James, however, because he was a truly good and decent man. He was an excellent postman, a loving husband and a devoted father to his six children Nellie, Robert, Wade, Eli, Theodosia and Abigail. In fact, his life was something of an American Dream in and of itself. Living on the outskirts of the colonial hotbed of excitement, Boston, and participating in the raucous nightly pub discussions of freedom, liberty and independence that were the sentiments in vogue at the present, John Henry James was an American Patriot on his way to making a name for himself somewhere in the annals of history.
After all, he wasn’t just any postman, although he had started out that way. These days he had become something else... a spy, to be exact.
***
LATER IN THE STORY, the Revolution has begun and the Sons of Liberty worry the Brits might be getting wise to John Henry James' letter intercepting. So they send him to a local eccentric genius and fellow Patriot who has just the trick to keep the Redcoats in the dark...
***
“Do you see this coin?” Franklin began, but looking up, quickly bit his lip. “John Henry, listen. I feel that you are a small child at a candy counter at present, and I find it distracting and exhausting.”
“My apologies, I… oh my word! What does this do?!”
“Put that down.” Franklin frowned at John Henry. But the inventor’s face was distorted to John Henry’s eyes, because he was viewing it through a large magnifying glass that was strapped on a flexible wire and attached to Franklin’s head. John Henry reached out, curious at the springy-ness of the wires. “How did you…”
“I assure you,” Ben Franklin muttered quietly to the tiny screwdriver he was using, “he does not want to touch that wire. Tsk, tsk, tsk. No sir, he most… certainly… does… not.” John Henry, who had pulled his rogue hand back at the warning also stepped back from the table to avoid further temptation. He stood with his hands folded, an innocent smile upon his face. For a moment.
“It is finished,” Franklin said, seemingly to himself, right before the crash sounded. He looked up once more at John Henry who had knocked over a large copper pot that he should not have been touching.
“Nothing!” he said, to Franklin. “Nothing! Nothing happened!” He replaced the pot, nearly knocking over a glass instrument as he did. “It is fine! All fine!”
The inventor sighed and wiped at his large, magnified right eye. He removed the head strap with the magnifying glass on it and replaced his homemade bifocals. “I shall start again. Do you see this coin?”
“Yes! Yes. I see that coin.”
“Well, good. Because it is not a coin. Look.” He ran his fingernail around the rim and the front of the coin popped open, suspended on a tiny, nearly invisible hinge. John Henry James’ eyes grew wide. “It is a vessel!”
“Indeed. An unsuspecting, glorified envelope.” He handed it to the mailman.
“Is that parchment inside?” John Henry asked, pulling a tiny, folded piece of paper out of the coin. And Ben Franklin smiled. “Why, no. It’s more. It is a letter.”
John Henry turned the small paper over and over in his hands, but it appeared to be blank. Franklin smiled again, clearly pleased by how easily impressed the messenger was, and at the drama of the situation. He held the piece of paper near the candle’s flame. Is he going to burn it? What am I missing? John Henry thought, but felt too stupid in the presence of this grandfatherly genius to ask out loud. After a few seconds near the flame, words began to appear on the paper. The postman gasped. “How? How did you do that?”
“My dear, dear, John Henry, this is the first lesson you shall have in never doubting the limitless power of American ingenuity.”
***
I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek of Rose's Story: "John Henry James." Please come back next week because if espionage and history aren't your thing, I've still got a story in this book for you to love! Horror, romance, action and comedy are all fully loaded in The American Locket, and I can't wait to share more stories with you! Thank you SO much for reading. Please, comment away!!! -Kelly
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