O’er the Ramparts We Watched
I wanted to write about this last week, but life happens, even to boring old historians like me. I say boring because even while on vacation, I found myself watching a documentary on the War of 1812, or as the cool historians call it – ‘AmRev Part Deux.’ I digress.
The War of 1812 is an often overlooked and, in my opinion, underappreciated time in American History. Despite its name, the war lasted from June 1812 until February 1815, with some of the more famous and celebrated fighting, like the Battle of New Orleans, taking place after the war’s end. While the war itself is a fascinating topic, the part of the documentary that stood out to me was of a more personal, or individual, nature. Two individuals in fact.
But first, let us set the scene.
After the British had given the Americans a proper whipping in Bladensburg, Maryland, they continued on to sack and burn the nation’s capital. Once done torching the town, they headed to the next, and possibly most important target: The port city of Baltimore. Baltimore was the third largest city in the nation at the time and arguably the most important. Its major port was a vital economic hub and the closest to Washington, D.C. Taking the city would give the British an open door for a major invasion severing the colonies.
Having learned their lesson in Bladensburg, the Americans did not intend to give Baltimore away so easily. They prepared for the fight in part by arming and manning Fort McHenry. Built from 1798 to 1803 on the same site as the Revolutionary-Era Fort Whetstone in the Baltimore Harbor, Fort McHenry was named after Baltimore Native and former Secretary of War to General Washington, James McHenry.
In September 1814, 5,000 British soldiers landed northeast of Baltimore and halted their march just outside the city as they awaited the British Navy, the most powerful in the world, to sail into Baltimore Harbor in support of the attack.
The only thing in the way was Fort McHenry and 1,000 Yanks, commanded by Major George Armistead.
Armistead was a Virginian who had cut his military teeth in the Quasi-War with France in 1799. At the beginning of the War of 1812, he had served on the Canadian border and showed a knack for bravery and leadership at the Battle of Fort George in May 1813. After the fall of Fort George, Armistead traveled to Washington and was ordered on to Fort McHenry.
Now we arrive at the part I found interesting.
One of Armistead’s battle preparations was a bit of psychological warfare. The fort needed a flag. But Major Armistead did not want just any flag. He coveted a flag so big it could be seen for miles, ensuring the British would have no doubt on whose territory they trespassed. Moreover, the people of Baltimore would know who was in the fort.
To meet this requirement, Armistead contracted a local seamstress and flag maker: Mary Pickersgill.
Pickersgill was a widowed businesswoman and seamstress in Baltimore. Her corner house in the city was a prime business spot where in addition to sewing, she also rented rooms. It was a business she started and ran, which was quite unique for the time. The size of the house allowed her to have her daughter, a few nieces, several enslaved people, and at least one free African American girl living and working in the house. Having all those extra hands around was about to come in……handy.
Armistead contracted Mary to make two flags. One, the Garrison Flag, was to be 30x42 foot. The other, the Storm Flag, was smaller, 17x25 feet. Mary only had six to eight weeks to complete the order. The Storm Flag was already a substantial order, but the Garrison Flag was a monster. Each of the 15 stars and 15 stripes were two feet across.
Wait, 15 stripes? Fun Fact tangent! Initially, a new stripe was added as states joined the Union. Vermont and Kentucky became states in 1791 and 1792 respectively, brining the grand total number of states to 15. This practice was stopped with the Third Flag Act of 1818, which reverted the stripes to 13 and standardized the one-star-per-state rule.
Now, back to Mary and her work. The Garrison Flag was so large, she had to lease out an area in a local brewery normally used for spreading out and drying hops. Here, she worked on her knees late into the night for weeks on end to deliver the flag on time. And deliver she did. The giant banner was finished and given to Armistead on August 19, 1813.
When the British began firing on Fort McHenry on September 13, 1814 – the same day I happened to be watching the film – Mary’s work waved in the air to greet them.
The battle, which lasted 25 hours, was touch and go. Mortars, cannon balls, and rockets streamed to and from the fort. At night, the lights out across the city were ordered out, denying the British a means of sighting their guns at dark. As morning of 15 September broke, the British ceased fire. Armistead, knowing the meaning of the moment, ordered the huge Garrison Flag up the pole. A signal to the city, the British, and the world that the Americans had held their ground. Miles away, on board a British prison ship, a young lawyer could see the flag, just as Armistead had intended. The man, Francis Scott Key, immortalized the moment in a poem called, “The Defense of Fort McHenry.” Today we know its lyrics as the “Star Spangled Banner,” America’s National Anthem.
Armistead commanded the fort until his death in 1818. The flag, which he kept after the battle, became a family heirloom until it was donated to the Smithsonian National Museum of American History in 1907. You can still visit it there today.
But for Major Armstead’s desire to use a symbol as a tactic, and Mary Pickersgill and Company’s hard work, we would have none of that. I use that as an analogy, of course. Their determination, resilience, spirit, and hard work echoed through the hearts of all Americans that day.
It still does.
Just look to the banner, at what it represents. The land of the Free, the home of the Brave.
