Midnight Ride, Industrial Dawn

by Robert Martello

  Surviving records do not describe John Coney’s opinion of his 13-year-old, French-speaking apprentice. Coney assigned Apollos a nine-year apprenticeship term, longer than the average but consistent with Coney’s reputation and demand for excellence. We can imagine the partnership as an amicable one, due to the fact that Apollos spent six years working for Coney without attempting to run away, a common recourse for disgruntled apprentices. Apollos’s apprenticeship ended when John Coney died in 1722, three years before it had officially completed. The remaining three years of Apollos’s indenture appeared as a commodity on the inventory of Coney’s estate, and Apollos “graduated” by paying 40 pounds to Coney’s widow. Details of his life become unfortunately sketchy at that point, but it is safe to assume that he worked for other silversmiths for one or more years until he saved enough money to establish and run his own shop.36

  Coney bestowed two great gifts upon Apollos that paid dividends throughout his career. First, Coney’s years of tutelage and command of the silver-working field rubbed off on Apollos, making him a skilled craftsman, fluent in all contemporary styles though never reaching Coney’s level of mastery. Museum curator and historian Janine Skerry describes Apollos as a “capable, even talented, silversmith, who produced a variety of objects in an economical fashion.”37 His work illustrates the Bostonian set of stylistic and fabrication choices common at this time. The few surviving examples of Apollos’s work, all museum-worthy, testify to the impressive engraving skill one would expect from a student of Coney. Because he was a known student of Coney, Apollos’s reputation received a considerable boost even at the beginning of his career. Although Apollos could have benefited even more had Coney lived longer and helped him to get established, Coney’s death created a void in the Boston silverworking community and patrons might have sought a student of Coney’s to meet their continuing silverworking needs.

  Apollos held a respected role in his local community, where he served as a financial supporter of Boston’s New Brick Church, as well as among his fellow craftsmen. One tankard produced by Apollos indicates that he subcontracted some of his work to other silversmiths. The back of the tankard handle is stamped with the initials “WS,” probably referring to the contemporary silversmith William Simpkins. Apollos contracted with Simpkins and other silversmiths to produce specialized components for some of his products, and probably performed engraving and other tasks for them. Since each silversmith had a limited quantity of molds and other equipment, widespread “jobbing” of tasks enabled them to specialize while still handling all their clients’ orders. Metalworking craftsmen in large urban centers often minimized competition by focusing their training and equipment purchases on a smaller number of operations. These tightly knit communities formed a collective versatility to compensate for their individual specialization: they sold their goods not only to the public, but also to each other. Subcontracting relationships extended far back into European craft history and demonstrated the communal nature of the silverworking field and the importance of reputation, because each silversmith only assigned work to competent colleagues and only accepted work from someone guaranteed to pay the agreed-upon wage.38 Apollos would not subcontract if he could utilize his own equipment and have his apprentices perform some of the work as a part of their training. Following a common practice, he took on his oldest son as an apprentice, officially launching Paul Revere on his long career and ensuring both of their places in history.

  Paul Revere became an apprentice to his father at age 13, joined approximately five years later by his younger brother Thomas. Not a single surviving record describes Revere’s apprenticeship or youthful experiences, but we can approximate these years from stories of “typical” apprenticeships throughout the colonies. Colonial American apprenticeship deviated from that in Great Britain by frequently requiring one or more years of “book learning.” Revere received his classroom education at Boston’s North Writing School before starting his formal apprentice training. Unlike the more prestigious Boston Latin School, whose curriculum was oriented toward upper-class children, the North Writing School focused on reading, writing, ciphering, and “manners.”39 Although Revere’s schooling played a less visible role in his career than his training in his father’s shop, his extensive lifelong correspondence, repeated reliance upon written information, and many pages of mathematical recordkeeping attest to the importance of this early knowledge.

  Of all European artisan traditions, apprenticeship transferred to America with the fewest changes. Apprentices pledged a fixed period of labor and loyalty, usually seven years in Britain, in exchange for a practical education in the “art and mystery” of a craft, a telling and often repeated phrase whose usage dated back centuries. “Art” in this sense referred to technical skill (and, in earlier times, to magical aid) while “mystery” suggested a combination of secret rites and essential knowledge that artisans must never share with outsiders. This fundamental relationship between knowledge and secrecy, drummed into the minds of all artisans throughout their apprenticeships, took on increased significance in the late eighteenth century.40 Many apprentices and their fathers signed indenture papers, a binding contract with their new craft master that spelled out their rights and responsibilities. Close family members such as Revere and his father did not require written agreements, but surviving indentures offer insight into typical apprentice expectations. For example, Jacob TenEyck’s seven-year apprenticeship to New York City goldsmith Charles LeRoux included the following stipulations:

  During all which Term the said Apprentice his said Master Charles LeRoux faithfully shall serve his Secretts keep his lawfull Commands gladly Every where Obey: he shall do no damage to his said Master nor see to be done by Others without letting or giving Notice to his said Master, he shall not waste his said Masters Goods nor lend them unlawfully to any, he shall not Commit Fornication nor Contract Matrimony within the said Term, at Cards Dice or any Other unlawfull Game he shall not play whereby his said Master may have damage, with his own Goods nor the Goods of others during the said Term without Lysence from his said master he shall neither buy not sell, he shall not absent himself day nor night from his Masters Service without his leave nor haunt Alehouses Taverns or Playhouses but in all things as a faithfull Apprentice he shall behave himself toward his Master and all his during the said Term, and the said Master during the said Term shall by the best Means or Method that he can Teach or Cause the said Apprentice to be taught the Art or Mystery of a Goldsmith. shall find or provide onto the said Apprentice sufficient Meat Drink and Washing in winter time fitting for an Apprentice and his said father to find him Apparell Lodging and washing in summer time and his said Master to suffer his said Apprentice to go to the winter Evening School at the Charge of his father. For the true performance of all and Every the said Covenants and Agreements Either of the said parties bind themselves unto the Other by these presents.41

  Typical terms of indenture required apprentices to live with their master, serve him faithfully and obediently, keep his secrets, and protect his interests. More specifically, most contracts prohibited apprentices from engaging in “harmful” activities, such as marrying, fornicating, drinking, playing dice, leaving his master’s service in the day or night, wasting or lending his master’s goods, or disobeying his master in any way. Masters, in turn, had to provide food and drink, washing, accessibility to evening school, and an education in their craft. Of course, a world of difference lies between the theory and reality of laws that regulate human behavior, as attested by numerous complaints from participants on both sides of this relationship. Multiple reports of wild apprentices caused many states to forbid taverns to serve alcohol to apprentices, but few officials enforced these laws. On the other hand, master craftsmen might abuse their apprentices by overworking them, withholding craft secrets, or insisting that they perform household or farm chores instead of activities with educational value. Disgruntled apprentices often tried to escape, leading local governments to
pass laws to protect the investments of masters. Runaway attempts even took place when the apprentice worked for members of his own family, as demonstrated when Benjamin Franklin fled his brother’s printing shop in Boston at age 17 in order to try his luck in Philadelphia. But young Paul stayed in his father’s shop until the end, and never saw reason to complain about his training.42

  Although most aspects of apprenticeship drew upon Old World practices, some traditions did change in reaction to the social, political, and economic climate of the American colonies. American colonists considered servitude of all forms, including apprenticeships, demeaning.43 In a land of scarce labor and cheap land, employment in the service of others evoked comparisons with slaves. Many Americans accepted lesser positions, such as apprenticeships, indentured servitude, or wage labor, as short-term expedients that hopefully allowed them to save money and start their own businesses or farms. The enormous labor shortage, prestige associated with independence and land ownership, and lack of guild regulation produced an apprentice deficit and higher demand for craft practitioners, which often compressed the seven-year apprenticeship into four or even three years. The number of craft apprentices remained small during the colonial years, giving some bargaining power and extralegal authority to those who knew they could run away and either find a new master or set up their own shop prior to their “graduation.” Apprentices also used their bargaining power to end the British custom of families paying masters to train their sons, with occasional exceptions surfacing among the most elite colonial trades and most acclaimed masters. In addition, authorities often made compulsory apprentices out of orphans, representing colonial America’s matter-of-fact attempt to address both labor and child welfare problems. With the spread of capitalist attitudes throughout the eighteenth century, apprenticeships and all other forms of written contracts became more formal and explicit, often delineated in monetary terms. In earlier times, these contracts defined a spirit of personal obligation that bound both parties, rather than specific promises of action and compensation. Apprenticeship changed to conform to the modus operandi of the land of opportunity, and masters and apprentices each tried to optimize their prospects. Contracts, monetary quantification, and legal enforcement of obligations marked the beginning of the shift from camaraderie and fraternal relations toward employer-employee expectations.44

  While serving as an apprentice, Revere worked with other artisans in his father’s shop, older and more experienced journeymen who received an hourly, daily, or monthly wage in exchange for their labor. Journeymen occupied the middle step of the craftsman ladder, possessing sufficient skills to begin practicing their craft but lacking the capital needed to set up their own shop. As their name implies, they often traveled in search of the highest wages, a practice that infuriated masters in need of steady labor, and they settled down as master artisans after amassing sufficient money. Journeymen lacked the status and independence of master craftsmen, but did play a role in shop operations: many craft shops allowed workers at different levels to collectively negotiate the division of labor or pace of work. Journeymen rarely received much credit for their work because the master craftsman typically absorbed the praise or blame for all his shop’s output. Journeyman silversmiths, for example, frequently assisted master silversmiths with complex tasks and even produced their own silverware, but only the master artisan placed his maker’s mark on the final products.45 Skilled craft workers such as journeymen earned 20 to 100 percent more than unskilled workers in the 1770s, but all wage laborers experienced great vulnerability in early America, a time prior to long-term contracts and social security. In light of their lack of status, high wages, or job security, it is no surprise that wage laborers, including journeymen, remained relatively rare in America prior to the Revolution.46

  Within the craft shop, masters, journeymen, and apprentices evolved work patterns that melded republican ideology with workplace realities. Many artisans read Benjamin Franklin’s Poor Richard’s Almanack, which sold approximately ten thousand copies a year until 1758, and agreed in principle with its stated values of frugality, hard work, and excellence. Artisans truly valued the personal independence they felt entitled to as skilled craftsmen, which translated into the ability to work for themselves, own their tools, set the pace of their work, and determine for themselves the best way to craft each item. In the time before widespread watch or clock ownership, many workers performed their jobs in a task-based manner, receiving a fixed salary in exchange for a specified quantity of work each week, but retaining the right to choose which days of each week and hours of each day to spend in the shop. These workers appreciated the option to add work breaks or vacations into the daily and weekly schedule, understanding that they had to work harder at other times to finish the task. Artisans filled their days and weekends with activities, including wagering on animal contests or races, billiards, dice, cards, heated political discourse, bouts of violence, and of course, rampant alcohol consumption.47 Even when these pastimes took place in the shop, artisan employers trusted their skilled workers to exercise discretion and responsibility, and as a result the workplace became more personalized and lively, to put it mildly.

  Young Paul Revere began his silversmith apprenticeship with routine duties such as cleaning the shop, collecting silver dust and filings for reuse, and tending the fire, and his responsibilities increased as he grew more skilled. Craft skills develop from the process of organized and open-ended repetition, which allows apprentices to observe their progress, learn from mistakes, and apply their existing knowledge in new directions.48 But Revere’s apprenticeship taught him more than just a set of silverworking techniques. From his lessons, his father’s example, and the conversations of other apprentices, journeymen, master craftsmen, and customers, he learned what it truly meant to be an artisan. Because he was an independent master craftsman Revere’s future largely lay in his own hands, and the practices he witnessed in his father’s shop served as models for his own choices and values. For example, Revere always took on more than financial obligations toward his workers, and he felt compelled to ferociously defend his honor and independence to the end of his days. Many of the artisan traditions reproduced in colonial America had more in common with industrial practices than one might think, representing the early onset of certain proto-industrial practices. In particular, the use of wage laborers, the division of labor among different skilled and unskilled workers, and the subcontracting of labor among different shops based on their specialties, while not common, occurred with increasing frequency. Revere’s later manufacturing career built heavily upon these earlier practices, and he benefited from many of the business and management customs that began in artisan shops.

  As an apprentice in his father’s shop, Revere focused upon a seemingly endless series of short-term goals that culminated in his attainment of master status. A tragedy soon replaced these goals with an even larger and more important series of responsibilities, which affected not only his own future, but that of his entire family. Apollos Rivoire died on July 22, 1754, and 19-year-old Paul Revere found himself the oldest male in the family, responsible for his own shop, apprentices, and dependents. It was time to become a master silversmith.

  Paul Revere: Silversmith

  More than a quarter of a century later, Revere wrote the only surviving description of his father’s passing in a letter to his cousin in France: “My father was a Gold-smith. He died in the year 1754, he left no Estate but he left a good name and seven children, 3 sons & 4 daughters. I was the Eldest Son. I learned this trade of him and have carried on the business ever since.”49 Neither this letter nor any other surviving writings flesh out this meager description to show us the anguish and uncertainty that Revere undoubtedly felt when his father, his mentor, and his family’s provider abruptly exited his life. Apollos Rivoire’s death impacted the Revere household well beyond the distress caused by the loss of a beloved patriarch. Paul was technically still an apprentice, too young in the eyes o
f the law to inherit the family silver shop until he turned 21. In the absence of records before 1761 we can only speculate whether he ran the shop in his own name, in his mother’s name (a common practice at the time, helping widows retain some control over a family business), or worked under a more experienced silversmith until he came of age. One way or another, he soon operated his father’s shop and had to confront the realities of management. Even if he had fully mastered the technical aspects of silverwork by this time, which is by no means certain, he now had to learn the business aspects and keep his shop profitable during the economic downturn still gripping North America since the end of King George’s War in 1748. Initially, the going was tough. Newly widowed Deborah Revere made her first rent payment in rum, cash, and a silver thimble, and Paul paid some of the next quarter’s rent by making ten rings for his landlord. Revere’s business had a slow start following his father’s death, one of the slowest periods of business in the entire period covered in his shop records.50

  Fortunately, Revere could draw upon several powerful assets. In addition to inheriting knowledge and training from his father, he also received a fully stocked silversmith’s shop containing all the tools he needed for the next ten years at least, and some equipment, including his father’s molds, which he used for his entire career. Unlike most artisans, who had to work for years to save enough money to set up their own shop, Revere avoided the journeyman stage entirely. He also benefited from his father’s network of business connections with customers, merchants, and other silversmiths. In some cases these categories meld; for example, Boston merchant Benjamin Greene both supplied and bought from Revere and his father. Apollos recorded sales to neighbors, Hitchborn relatives, friends, and loyal clients, and Paul benefited from many of these relationships as he built his own base of friends and customers.51 The importance of networks in early America cannot be exaggerated, and Revere’s ability to forge connections and identify new communities that might yield new customers and allies played a major role in his rapid success.