The history of America’s iron industry serves as a microcosm of the nation’s larger struggle to close its overarching technological gap with the Old World, a particularly frustrating task because of Britain’s stern prohibition of any form of knowledge transfer. Americans initially implemented the exact ironworking processes practiced in Europe and Britain. After some early failures, American ironworkers started adapting these processes to react to the unique resources and economic conditions in America. For example, America’s abundance of wood encouraged many American ironworkers to continue using charcoal fuel even after Britain upgraded its operations to use alternative fuel sources.18 In spite of ready access to natural resources, American ironworkers lagged behind their British counterparts throughout the colonial and Revolutionary eras and faced severe technological, managerial, and financial impediments that made iron quality and ironworking profits inconsistent at best.
Ironworkers fared poorly in the earliest postwar years, suffering the effects of harsh foreign competition and unfavorable economic conditions. In contrast with American iron’s decline during the war, British ironworks thrived, increasing their efficiency and overall output by converting to coke and coal fuels as well as steam power. The postwar influx of cheap, high-quality British iron forced Americans to cut their prices and profits accordingly. Also, the postwar recession compounded by inflation and the lack of currency affected all business ventures in America. These conditions improved in the late 1780s, when new protective tariffs and a booming economy enabled ironworks to prosper.19 And whether by coincidence or design, Revere chose to enter the field at this exact point.
Revere the Founder: Climbing the Iron Learning Curve
Revere had no way of knowing that ironworking was only the first of his new manufacturing adventures, involving different metals, new equipment, and unknown fabrication processes. He did know that these first steps, building what he referred to as a large “air furnace” and learning to use it to cast iron objects, involved an intimidating learning curve that would surely tax his financial and intellectual resources. Revere’s successful entry into this first new field highlights his many assets and provides a valuable case study of America’s turn-of-the-century technological transfer mechanisms.
Technology transfer arises from an imbalance of knowledge between nations, exacerbated by the less advanced nation’s immediate needs. The relative scarcity of cutting-edge machinery, machine operators, and relevant technical know-how offers an almost insurmountable barrier to new manufacturers attempting to close this gap. At the end of the eighteenth century Britain led the world in technological refinement, manufacturing output, and economic strength. Colonial America’s technology might meet the modest needs of fringe provinces devoted to agriculture and natural resource harvesting, but America needed more advanced manufacturing to avoid a return to economic colonialism after the war. Most historical studies emphasize the central importance of emigrating skilled laborers, particularly from Britain, in early American technology transfer. This generalization contains some truth: America lay in Britain’s long technological shadow and early Americans held British (and particularly English) technical skill in the highest regard. Immigrants often publicized their English training and native essayists wrote at length about the need to encourage the emigration of skilled workers in order to correct America’s technological deficit. America’s technology transfer benefited from a constant stream of English and European artisans emigrating into Philadelphia, New York, and Boston, as well as the importation of numerous high-tech tools or machines.20
The actual technology transfer process adopted by many American firms transcended the hiring of British immigrants. American firms could not always enlist relevant foreign experts and had to find other ways to solve their technological problems, such as developing in-house innovations, trading information between shops, and applying the lessons of one field to another. George Washington showed an understanding of the multifaceted nature of technology transfer when he asked Congress to help America ensure its lasting independence by “giving effectual encouragement as well to the introduction of new and useful inventions from abroad as to the exertions of skill and genius in producing them at home.” This call to action may have been a step in the right direction, but government and business leaders still had to find a pragmatic way to make technology transfer happen. The diffusion of technology generally follows a four-step approach: demonstration of the potential of a new technology, establishment of a pilot manufactory, diffusion of the new technology to similar facilities, and modification of the technology by different operators to suit local conditions.21 Revere’s experiences, beginning with his ironworking, illustrate the mechanisms of technological diffusion to new facilities and, to a lesser degree, the modification of technology to suit local conditions. These latter steps of the overall technology transfer process, while not as glamorous as the role played by the first pioneer inventor to develop a new technology, are equally important in the establishment of large technological systems and networks of practitioners. Revere’s interactions with other metalworkers portray a fairly open technological community in turn-of-the-century America, with free exchange of advice even among those who, under other circumstances, might become competitors. His example also demonstrates the importance of technological transfer from one field to another, through channels other than hiring skilled laborers, and in pursuit of lessons beyond the merely technical.
Revere began preparing for his new foundry in 1787, although he may have started the ball rolling at an earlier point without recording it. Even though America lacked technical expertise, managerial skill, and investment capital, Revere could access enough of each commodity to proceed with good speed. Despite the extremely different material properties of silver and iron, Revere’s silverworking knowledge helped him master the iron-casting process within a few years. Revere’s craft upbringing bequeathed a general understanding of metallurgy as well as specific skills such as the ability to melt silver uniformly in a furnace, prepare small molds, cast molten silver into molds, verify the consistency and homogeneity of metal products, prepare alloys combining different metals, and use heat and hammering to reshape metal objects. Now he needed to replace his understanding of silver’s properties—in particular, its melting point, malleability, and cooling rate—with an equivalent understanding of iron. Revere could also draw upon the casting work he performed for the Massachusetts government during the Revolutionary War when he helped Louis de Maresquelle cast cannon at the Titicut forge in 1777. Although the records do not indicate whether Revere ever worked with iron at Titicut (most cannon at the time consisted of brass or bronze), he certainly received extensive practice preparing large molds and operating a furnace. Silverworking and brief cannon-casting experience gave him a head start, but he surely had much more to learn.
Technical and scientific texts offered a promise of assistance that usually amounted to nothing. Until 1840, American artisans without reading knowledge of French and German could find little, if any, technical documentation geared at basic ironworking principles. Scientific research also failed to enlighten the would-be ironworker: pragmatic craft knowledge and expertise could not be readily gleaned from the prevalent scientific theories or principles of the day, and artisans’ practical craft experience ran far in advance of scientific metallurgical knowledge until the late nineteenth century. Chemists began investigating metallurgical principles in the 1700s and started becoming valuable to ironworks by the mid-1800s, although most artisans resented and rejected the intrusion of theoretical scientists into privileged craft practices. In spite of science’s limited role in craft activities, Revere never turned down any possible pathway to useful information and made several early attempts to master the scientific basis of this new field. In November 1788 he asked a colleague to send a copy of Richard Watson’s Chemical Essays, a set of writings published between 1781 and 1787 for people with minimal chemistry experience.22 Revere also spoke
with Dr. Benjamin Waterhouse, Harvard University’s first professor of mineralogy, who remained well connected in British intellectual circles after his education at Oxford. Although we have no record of their conversations, Dr. Waterhouse later described Revere as “the only man (in America) in 1794 who appeared to know anything of the discrimination between ores and the seven metals.”23 While these readings and discussions about chemistry probably provided some useful information, at no point do they ever appear as a decisive factor helping him to overcome problems. In the late eighteenth century a vast gulf separated science and practice, and Revere lived squarely on the practice side of the divide.
Well-established ironworkers clearly offered the most relevant information for anyone trying to enter the field. Every detail—from the moisture content of sand molds to the best clay for lining the furnace—had some impact upon the final product, and experienced professionals could quickly help a newcomer focus on the important issues, avoid stumbling blocks, and learn the tricks of the trade. Fortunately for Revere, most ironworkers in America freely shared knowledge with each other. This openness may have surprised someone whose artisanal education and membership in the Freemasons included the injunction to hide valuable trade mysteries and secrets. Artisanal secrecy descended from British traditions that treated human skill and knowledge like tools and blueprints, valuable commodities to be hoarded for the future well-being of the empire or as a way to preserve a guild’s monopoly. The British guarded their ironmaking industry with extra vigilance, as it was a key military asset and one of the great sources of English wealth. Parliament passed a law in 1785 prohibiting the export of ironmaking tools as well as the “seducing” of workers in these industries. A detailed list of non-exportable items included “all forms of rolls, anvils, hammers, molds, presses, or models or plans of such equipment.” These new restrictions continued earlier policies, such as a 1718 law prohibiting the emigration of skilled artisans from Britain.24
American ironworks for the most part presented a different picture, one in which owners “let neighbors and children stop by their smithies, forges, and furnaces to watch and learn.” The open, community-based ironworking field encouraged information exchange and cross-fertilization from other trades.25 Such fluidity had far-reaching implications for Revere, who would not have succeeded as an ironworker without advice from current practitioners. Revere adopted an equally generous attitude toward knowledge sharing in the years to come, although his letters also reveal an underlying patriotic sentiment. He viewed the discovery and dissemination of new procedures as a benefit to his country, as illustrated in a letter he received from Stephen Rochefontaine in 1795.
Mr. [name missing] a French Gentleman who will deliver you this, is charged by government to make use of a new method for casting iron guns . . . will you be so kind to help him in doing it yourself or by providing him all the workmen and assistance in your power? I am so well acquainted with your fondness for scientific discoveries that I am persuaded that it is enough to point out the Gentleman who may be useful in enlarging the knowledge of this country to be certain that you will afford him all sort of assistance and meet him with a hearty welcome.26
Rochefontaine, a former French military engineer who emigrated to the United States during the French Revolution, served as an inspector of ordnance for the U.S. Army. He represented an invaluable stockpile of technical and military experience in the new republic as well as a potential ally. Although he does not appear frequently in Revere’s surviving records, he showed some familiarity with Revere and felt comfortable imposing upon him for this favor. In the years to come a number of other technicians also requested advice from Revere, and as far as the records show, Revere always obliged.
We must not exaggerate the quantity of altruistic information exchange in the young republic. Different firms competed with each other and guarded their most important secrets, and Revere would not let patriotism jeopardize the survival of his own business. Political rhetoric and the theoretical background of patent law offer the prevailing belief that technical and scientific advancement should simultaneously aid the individual as well as the nation: patents enabled inventors to profit from their ideas, but after a time the new invention entered the public domain for widespread use. More pragmatically, metalworkers in general and Revere in particular seldom suffered from excessive competition given the small number of practitioners who operated in such a large market. On the other hand, all metalworkers often had to endure inexperienced laborers, equipment breakdowns, technical hurdles, and external threats such as cheap British imports. In America’s industrial infancy, practitioners gained far more by sharing, cooperating, and educating each other than they lost.
Nicholas Brown became a surrogate ironworking mentor to Revere, and happily shared the fruits of his decades of experience. The prosperous Brown family frequently used portions of their mercantile profits to found and operate manufactories in Rhode Island. For example, Nicholas’s younger brother Moses gained everlasting fame by investing in Samuel Slater’s pioneering textile mills, and the Browns also ran a spermaceti factory that made them the leading colonial-era candle makers. They built a blast furnace in 1765 in a town on the Pawtuxet River called Hope, and christened their endeavor the Hope furnace. In a direct parallel to Revere’s own startup procedure more than twenty years later, the Brown brothers sent agents to the prosperous Pennsylvania ironworks; hired workers from some of the furnaces in Connecticut; and purchased pipes, molds, and other equipment from Massachusetts when they set up their facilities. Their completed ironworks employed up to seventy-five men at a time, although at least half of them directed their efforts toward wood gathering, often on the woodlots of cooperative neighboring farms. After a rocky two-year learning process marked by great difficulty in locating capable founders, the operators learned to produce steady quantities of reasonably high-quality iron. They considered building a forge to produce bar iron but had to give up the idea when they could not find any skilled laborers to supervise the process. Similarly, after their attempts to manufacture hollow goods produced inconsistent and low-quality wares, the Browns restricted themselves to pig iron production and sold their output to a wide range of New England forges and also to London. During the Revolution the Browns added cannon casting to their repertoire, providing hundreds of cannon for the government and private interests, and Nicholas Brown joined the younger George Benson in 1783 to form Brown and Benson, the firm that later worked with Revere. While setting up his iron foundry Revere frequently contacted Brown for advice, visited him in person at least once, and included questions in correspondence when arranging iron shipments from the Hope furnace. Years later, Brown helped him learn the bell-making process as well.27
Nicholas Brown’s learning process serves as an important counterpoint to Revere’s experiences, indicative of the owner-operator (or businessman-artisan) divide. While Brown entered a new field by allocating funds, establishing business relationships, and, most important, hiring experienced operators and managers, Revere started his new endeavor by teaching himself the art of ironworking much as he had learned the silverworking trade in his teens. But Revere’s reach had grown in the years since he polished silver at his father’s side, and his entrance into the iron-casting trade included the same hiring, purchasing, and organizational challenges faced by Brown and other industrial capitalists operating on a larger scale.
After deciding to have a go at the foundry business, Revere first had to set up a line of funding for research and construction costs. His lucrative silver shop financed most of these expenses but because he had not perfected his recordkeeping practices by the 1780s, the finances pertaining to the foundry’s inception present a confusing and incomplete picture. In particular, numerous withdrawals labeled merely “To Cash” certainly account for many of the furnace’s funding costs, although Revere also used this heading for personal cash withdrawals. This method of mixing shop expenses with personal or other uses of cash was wides
pread at the time, reflecting the simple truth about the typical intermingling of home and professional life. Without question, the silver shop’s profits served as his primary funding source.
Revere’s well-to-do Hitchborn cousins also provided essential funding, again obscured by vague notations that hide the specifics of their working relationship. Samuel Hitchborn, the Harvard-trained lawyer and gentleman, allowed Revere to use some of his Lynn Street property for the foundry, located in the north end of Boston just a block from several small wharves. Hitchborn might have charged some rent on this property, but we know for certain that he sold it to Revere on June 28, 1792, commenting, “I have this day executed a Deed of a certain piece of Land situate in Boston on which there is an air furnace to Paul Revere of said Boston Esq.”28 In addition to the use of this land, Samuel Hitchborn also paid more than 9 pounds for coal and carting on two occasions, and more than 37 pounds for iron on three occasions. Revere’s other cousin, his former apprentice Benjamin Hitchborn who now worked as a silversmith, also made 9 cash payments to Revere throughout this startup period for a total of more than 66 pounds. Samuel and Benjamin might have been repaying old debts to Revere, in light of the numerous large silver purchases they both made from him throughout the late 1780s. Or they might have loaned some extra cash to their cousin when his own resources were insufficient. A third possibility is that Samuel and Benjamin could have served as silent partners in the foundry, treating these payments as investments that would eventually pay dividends. We cannot know the answer, but we do know that in a time of need Revere’s family offered frequent financial aid.29
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