On a spring day in April 1775-250 years ago—reports began arriving in the Hudson Valley about a battle that had raged outside Boston. The long-dreaded war between England and its colonies had begun. Would the rest of the colonies back up Massachusetts, or leave the rebellious province to face the mightiest army in the world alone?
In New York City, an emergency protest meeting drafted a statement of solidarity with Boston, then sent copies to every county in the province, suggesting like-minded patriots sign their names and return the petitions to the central committee.
The village of Coxsackie, nearly 30 miles south of Albany, was still part of Albany County; Greene County would split off in 1800. But the area’s more agriculturally minded residents already felt separate enough from the city to draw up their own letter. On May 17, 1775, 225 men filed through the parlor of Leonard Bronk’s home in Coxsackie and added their voices to the continent-wide chorus of dissent.
Adapting the language circulated by the New York group, the Coxsackie Declaration begins by describing the signers as “Persuaded that the Salvation of the Rights and Liberties of America, depends, under God, on the firm union of its Inhabitants.” Yet in resisting British tyranny, it was also necessary to avoid “the Anarchy and confusion which attend the Dissolution of the Powers of Government.” The colonists were not yet thinking of national independence, but they had already started down the path that would take them there a year later.
The Coxsackie Declaration never made it to New York—which means that, unlike others of its kind, the petition was preserved. Forgotten for a century and a half, it was discovered in Albany in 1923, “among the old cast away things usually stored in an unnamed attic,” as a local newspaper put it. The newly rediscovered parchment seemed to demonstrate the grassroots unity of the revolutionary moment.
Yet more complicated aspects of the founding era are also present in the document. Opposed to being taxed without their consent, the signers “in the most solemn Manner resolve never to become Slaves.” They may have felt strongly about the issue in part because, as journalist and author Debra Bruno has written, “dozens of them were enslavers” themselves.
I recently visited the Albany Institute of History & Art to view the original copy of the Coxsackie Declaration. Though faded and hard to read, it was moving to look at the names of men who knowingly put their lives and liberties at risk by signing, apparently believing both would be worth little if they didn’t. I was especially struck by the X’s between the first and last names of roughly one-fourth of the signers. Being illiterate, it was the only mark they could make.
Note to readers: I will be discussing my new book, Fear No Pharaoh: American Jews, the Civil War, and the Fight to End Slavery, at the Howland Cultural Center in Beacon on April 2 and at Oblong Books in Rhinebeck on April 8.
Related: Visit These Hudson Valley Sites to Celebrate Women’s History
