The OG Manhattanites

nypl-digitalcollections-e1cacb80-c60c-012f-a178-58d385a7bc34-001-w

“General view, looking southwest to Manhattan from Manhattan Bridge, Manhattan” by Abbott, Berenice (1898-1991) is licensed under CC0 1.0

“As he stood on the waterfront on May 11, 1647, watching a skiff approach from four newly arrived ships at anchor the strain and darkness had to show in his eyes and face his breath must have fairly stunk with it. It was a cerulean spring day, and, like characters at the end of an act of a play, all the residents of the community were gathered alongside him, headliners and minor players alike: Joris Rapalje and Catalina Trico, along with their children and grandchildren: Anthony “The Turk” van Salee and his wife Griet Reyniers-both respectable now, but still cantankerous-and their four daughters: Anna van Angola, a widowed African woman who had just received a patent for a farm on Manhattan, as well as Antony Congo, Jan Negro, and other black residents, slaves and free assorted Danes, Bavarians, and Italians, and a handful of area Indians: Cornelis Swits, son of the murdered Claes Swits; the English refugee leaders Lady Deborah Moody and the Rev. Francis Doughty: Everardus Bogardus, the beer-swilling minister who had assisted the colonists’ effort against Kieft by excoriating him from the pulpit: the activists Kuyter and Melyn: the company henchman, Cornelis van Tienhoven, who had slaughtered and tortured Indians while in Kieft’s service and was hoping to be kept on in the new administration. And there, too, on the cobbled quayside stood Adriaen van der Donck and his English wife Mary-it is from Van der Donck that we have one of the extant descriptions of this scene. The mood was festive. Shouts went up: celebratory cannon blasts were fired. The day of deliverance had come.

Then, slowly, like gray rain, the silence fell upon them. From a distance they would have seen first the hardness and smallness of the eyes, like sharp pebbles set in the broad plate of the face. Then the flash of the sun on his breastplate must have caught their attention, and the sword at his waist: the efficient, meticulous, militaristic parcel of him. Finally they would have watched him unpacking himself from the boat, and noted at once, as people do such irregularities, that curious movement of his, an unnatural stiffness, and no accompanying grimace or flinch, as if in defiance of pain itself. And all eyes then naturally moving down, and seeing it, the leg that wasn’t there.”

Russell Shorto, The Island at the Center of the World

Advertisements

An American Revolt to Preserve Identity and Heritage

dt263021

“Bowl” by Maria and Julian Martinez (Native American, San Ildefonso Pueblo, New Mexico), San Ildefonso Pueblo via The Metropolitan Museum of Art is licensed under CC0 1.0

 

“Under the Spanish, the Jemez were famed for their black-and-white pottery, and were commissioned to make chalices and other ecclesiastical objects. Perhaps because of this association, Liebmann found virtually no black-and-white pottery at the new sites. Instead, pottery with the double-headed key motif and other ancient designs predominated. The Jemez also began to use a simple red pottery that exploded in popularity among the Pueblo after the Revolt, perhaps signifying the formation of a pan-Pueblo identity that hadn’t existed before.”

. . . “I always wonder how the Pueblo would live today if there had been no Revolt,” says Aguilar. “It’s a scary thought, because if those colonial practices had played out over the course of another century, there’s no telling what the state of my pueblo would be. We are living where we are and we are the people we are thanks in part to the Revolt.”

–“The First American Revolution” on Archaeology.org