American History Tellers - Benjamin Franklin | Join or Die | 1

Episode Date: June 12, 2024

In 1723, a teenage Benjamin Franklin arrived in Philadelphia ready to reinvent himself. He was a penniless apprentice printer with a hunger for knowledge and a burning ambition. Over the next 50 years, he would fashion himself into the most celebrated American of his time.Franklin became a printer, a politician, a postmaster and an inventor. He tied a key to a kite string and discovered the secret of lightning. And in the 1760s, he became America’s leading diplomat in Britain, just as tensions between the colonies and their mother country reached a breaking point.Pre-order your copy of the new American History Tellers book, The Hidden History of the White House, for behind-the-scenes stories of some of the most dramatic events in American history—set right inside the house where it happened.Listen to American History Tellers on the Wondery App or wherever you get your podcasts. Experience all episodes ad-free and be the first to binge the newest season. Unlock exclusive early access by joining Wondery+ in the Wondery App, Apple Podcasts or Spotify. Start your free trial today by visiting https://wondery.com/links/american-history-tellers/ now. See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Wondery Plus subscribers can binge new seasons of American History Tellers early and ad-free right now. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Imagine it's January 1758 and you're at home in your study in London, England. You're the son of the founder of Pennsylvania. You and the rest of your family still own most of the colony's unsettled land, and you're determined to make sure it remains exempt from taxation. But today you're entertaining an unwelcome guest. Benjamin Franklin has traveled here as an agent of the Pennsylvania Colonial Assembly,

trying to persuade you to pay taxes on your land. You've allowed him to call on you, but you have no intention of giving in to his demands. The fate of your family's wealth and power rests on your shoulders. You sit down on a carved mahogany chair across from Franklin, silently hoping this meeting ends quickly. You hand him a glass of Bordeaux, and he smiles gratefully. You're too kind, sir. My pleasure, Mr. Franklin. Now what can I do for you? He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders.

Your family still owns vast tracts of land in Pennsylvania. Every other landowner in the colony pays taxes to our assembly. Why should you be exempt? The assembly is simply asking that you and your family pay your fair share. You smile bitterly, your jaw held tight. Well, how dare you tell me what taxes I owe? Need I remind you that my family rules Pennsylvania, just as the crown rules Virginia, Massachusetts, and New York? Perhaps so, but our assembly governs it. Not so. My hand-picked colonial governor is in charge of Pennsylvania. Your assembly exists merely to offer advice, and our governor will veto any tax law you pass. But why should your appointed

governor hold sway over our elected assembly? You take a sip of wine, laughing into your glass. Leave it to Franklin to turn a discussion about taxation into an argument about political representation. You Americans have all the wrong ideas. I may be an American, yes, but I'm also a subject of the British Crown, and our colonial assembly has all the same rights and privileges as the British Parliament. In fact, your father is the one who expressly granted those rights, wasn't he? Under Pennsylvania's founding charter. You shake your head, anger bubbling up in your chest.

My father had no power to grant such rights. Franklin puts down his glass of wine, his eyes turning steely. All we are asking is to be treated as equal subjects of the crown. Oh, you ask to be treated as an equal while failing to pay me proper respect in my own home. I cannot bear to speak with you one moment longer. From now on, you must direct these matters to my lawyer. With a curt nod, Franklin rises from his seat, his expression a mask of barely contained contempt. He exits the room, leaving you alone in the silence of your study. You're stunned by his insolence. It seems

to you that if this is the caliber of leadership in Pennsylvania, the colony must be put in its proper place. Hey, this is Nick. And this is Jack. And we just launched a brand new podcast called The Best Idea Yet. You may have heard of it. It's all about the untold origin stories of the products you're obsessed with. Listen to The Best Idea Yet on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. Have you ever wondered who created that bottle of sriracha that's living in your fridge? Or why nearly every house in America has at least one game of Monopoly? Introducing The Best Idea Yet, a brand new podcast about the surprising origin stories of the products you're obsessed with. Listen to The Best Idea Yet on the

Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American History Tellers. our history, your story. On our show, we take you to the events, the times, and the people that shaped America and Americans. Our values, our struggles, and our dreams. We'll put you in the shoes of everyday people as history was being made. And we'll show you how the events of the times affected them, their families, and affects you now. In the late 1750s, Benjamin Franklin sailed from Philadelphia to London as an agent of the Pennsylvania Colonial Assembly. There, he met with Thomas Penn, the son of Pennsylvania's founder.

His objective was to persuade Penn to pay taxes on his land in the colony and to honor the laws passed by the elected Colonial Assembly. But Penn refused to even consider Franklin's request. And over the next two decades, conflicts over colonial governance would continue to fester. Franklin had risen from a penniless apprentice printer to become the most famous and celebrated American of his day. And in those decades in between, Franklin lived a life of constant reinvention. He was a writer, a printer, a publisher, a scientist and inventor, a statesman and diplomat, a revolutionary and founding father. He gave America lightning rods and libraries, police patrols and postal networks,

and, of course, legendary wisdom and wit. He championed the middle class and rallied the cause of colonial unity, and he pioneered the alliance that secured America's independence and the compromises that shaped its Constitution. Above all, Benjamin Franklin forged a distinct American identity grounded in hard work, ingenuity, and civic responsibility. He laid the foundation for a new nation, guided by an unwavering belief that America's greatest strength was its people. And if you want to learn more about other Founding Fathers and those who followed in their footsteps to lead America, you can read about them in a new book inspired by American history tellers.

The Hidden History of the White House takes readers inside the iconic seat of American presidential power and reveals 15 behind-the-scenes moments that changed the course of history. It's available now from William Morrow, wherever you get your books. Follow the link in the show notes to learn more. This is Episode 1 in our two-part series, Benjamin Franklin, Join or Die. On January 17, 1706, Benjamin Franklin was born into a middle-class Puritan family in Boston, Massachusetts. His father, Josiah Franklin, was a soap maker and candle maker who had immigrated from England to America with his young family. After his first wife died, he married Benjamin's

mother, Abiah Folger, and Benjamin was the youngest son of his father's 17 children. Growing up, he was an active and curious child and an avid reader, but he had little formal education. When he was just 10 years old, his father took him out of school and put him to work in his candle-making shop. Two years later, when Franklin was twelve, he became apprenticed to his older brother, James, who had recently opened a print shop. He signed indenture papers, legally binding himself to work for James for the next nine years, a common practice designed to teach young people a trade that would eventually support them. So it was the print shop that was his school, and soon he began learning the complex art of setting type. During the day, he performed the painstaking work of

placing heavy lead type into words and sentences, but late at night he devoured books and honed his writing skills. In 1721, Benjamin's brother James launched a newspaper called the New England Current. And at a time when newspapers served as government mouthpieces, James proudly declared that the Current was not published by authority. He was unafraid to criticize the colonial ruling establishment, including Reverend Cotton Mather, the most prominent minister in Massachusetts. And by the time Benjamin was 16, he too was writing for The Current, anonymously publishing folksy and humorous social critiques under the pen name Silence Do Good. But over time, Benjamin began to resent laboring under

the thumb of his overbearing brother. And when he was 17, he decided to strike out on his own. But he still had four years left on his indentured contract. So he ran away, selling some of his books to pay for passage on a southbound ship. On October 6, 1723, Benjamin Franklin arrived at the Market Street Wharf in Philadelphia with just a dollar in his pocket. Philadelphia was then America's third largest city, home to 6,000 residents. It was a bustling and diverse market town, a place where an ambitious and hardworking young man could make something of himself. And before long, Franklin found work at a local print shop and a room to rent.

And he struck up a romance with his landlord's daughter, a 15-year-old girl named Deborah Reed. At 17 years old, Franklin was tall and barrel-chested. His quick wit and magnetic personality made him popular among his fellow tradesmen, and at the same time his customers took notice of his intelligence and talent. One of those patrons was Pennsylvania Governor William Keith. Keith was impressed with Franklin's writing skills and encouraged him to set up his own print shop. He suggested that Franklin travel to London to purchase a printing press and promised to send him letters of introduction and the needed credit to buy the equipment. Eager to take advantage of this opportunity, in November 1724, Franklin ended his courtship with a young Deborah and set sail for London. But when he arrived, seven weeks later,

he learned that Governor Keith had a reputation for making promises he did not keep. There were no letters of credit or introduction. Franklin would have to fend for himself, and for the next eighteen months he worked in a London print shop to make ends meet. He was able to find a bright side to this misadventure. He spent his spare time in coffeehouses and taverns, relishing London's vibrant intellectual and social scene. But although he enjoyed some aspects of London society, by the summer of 1726, he'd grown homesick, so he sailed back to Philadelphia. And it was there, within two years of his return, that Franklin finally realized his dream of owning his own print shop.

Once he was in business, he was determined to succeed, too, often working until eleven at night and starting again at dawn the next day. At the time, each of the American colonies had its own currency, and his hard work and perseverance won him a coveted contract to print Pennsylvania's paper currency. Franklin carefully cultivated his public image, too. Even as his business thrived, he made a show of carting his own rolls of paper down the street, rather than hiring someone to do it for him. He later wrote, I took care not only to be in reality industrious and frugal, but to avoid all appearances of the contrary.

And in 1729, he became the publisher of the Pennsylvania Gazette, quickly turning it into one of the most popular newspapers in colonial America. And all the while, he was as social as ever. He organized a club of middle-class artisans and tradesmen who met every Friday night to drink, discuss philosophy, and debate issues of the day. They called themselves the Junto, the Latin word for join together. But by the time Franklin was 24, he decided it was time to put his bachelor days behind him. He later recalled, that hard-to-be-governed passion of youth had hurried me frequently into the intrigues with low women. So in 1730, he rekindled his teenage courtship with Deborah Reed. Deborah, though,

had married another man while Franklin was away in London, but her husband had since deserted her. Because she did not know whether he was alive or not, she was legally unable to remarry. So she and Franklin simply moved in together, entering into a common-law marriage. They lived above his Market Street print shop, but the relationship encountered an early complication. Franklin had recently fathered a child with another woman, a mother whose identity Franklin never revealed. Despite this scandal, Franklin and Deborah decided that together they would raise the child, a son named William. They would also go on to have children of their own, and Deborah soon gave birth to a boy, though he died

of smallpox at age four. But years later, they had a second child, a daughter named Sally. Ultimately, Franklin's marriage was more businesslike than romantic. Deborah was practical and hardworking. She helped him expand his print shop and manage their household. Franklin called her a good and faithful helpmate. In the meantime, Franklin remained dedicated to growing his business, and in 1732, he decided to publish an almanac. Almanacs were extremely profitable in colonial America because they offered calendars, weather forecasts, and planting advice that farmers relied on. Nearly every home bought a new one every year. And Franklin's version was called Poor Richard's Almanac, written under the

pseudonym Richard Saunders. In addition to the standard weather predictions, Franklin filled his almanac with witty aphorisms such as, haste makes waste, and three can keep a secret if two of them are dead. Poor Richards was an instant bestseller, and Franklin would print it annually for the next 25 years. And just as he'd hoped, sales from the almanac helped him expand his publishing empire. He soon formed business partnerships extending from New England to the Carolinas. But at home in Philadelphia, he faced competition from publisher Andrew Bradford, who had the advantage of serving as the city's postmaster. This role gave Bradford access to the news before anyone else,

and his control of circulation attracted advertisers to his paper, the American Weekly Mercury. And as Franklin's paper, the Gazette, became more successful, Bradford prohibited his postal writers from carrying it. But Franklin refused to let that stop him. Imagine it's the summer of 1733 in Philadelphia, and the sun is beginning to peek over the rooftops of Market Street, casting a warm glow on the dusty road. You're just starting your daily postal route for Andrew Bradford, the postmaster of Philadelphia and the publisher of the American Weekly Merchant. You dismount in front of an apothecary, rifling through the letters in your leather satchel. Good morning. Pleasant day, is it not?

You look up to see a man wearing a leather apron approaching you. You nod. Indeed, sir. I don't believe we've been introduced. My name's Benjamin Franklin. I'm the publisher of the Pennsylvania Gazette. This here is my print shop. He gestures to the shop next door. You glance warily at the tied bundle of newspapers in his hand. Yes, I'm familiar with the Gazette. Well, I'm glad to hear that. I'd like you to deliver my latest issue. You shift uncomfortably. Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Franklin. You must know Mr. Bradford strictly forbids his carriers from delivering your paper.

Yes, I know all about our postmaster's prejudice. I think it's rather unfair of him, wouldn't you agree? I suppose it is, but I can't go against his wishes. Franklin nods, a playful glint in his eyes. Well, of course, I understand. However, I am willing to compensate you for your trouble. A bribe, sir, I couldn't. No, I suppose not. I'm sure you're paid well enough as it is. It's hard work doing what you do. Well, to tell you the truth, the pay is rather low, especially for how long the workday is.

But surely Mr. Bradford must know how important carriers are to his business. The whole city depends on you. You just shrug. Well, thank you for saying so. Then why not take on a little extra business? You glance over your shoulder for potential eavesdroppers. Well, sir, I'll admit my family could use the money. Franklin reaches into his pocket and hands you a small pouch.

Is this enough to make it worth your while? You open the pouch and examine the pile of coins inside. Your heart races at the prospect of defying your employer, but the allure of the extra money is undeniable. Yeah, yeah. I believe this should be satisfactory. Franklin grins and claps you on the shoulder. Good man, and you won't regret this.

You take the stack of newspapers from him and tuck them beneath your horse's saddlebags. With a nod to Franklin, you mount your horse and ride off to continue your route. Despite feeling a pang of guilt in your stomach, you're still pleased with the extra weight in your pocket. In 1733, Benjamin Franklin bribed postal carriers to get around Andrew Bradford's ban on carrying Franklin's Gazette. With this strategy, his newspaper continued to circulate in Pennsylvania, and his final victory came in 1737, when Bradford lost the postmaster job over sloppy bookkeeping. Franklin was hired as his replacement and soon benefited from the main advantage of the role, access to news before his competitors. And just as Franklin was committed to bettering his business,

he was committed to bettering himself. He kept a chart to track his progress in cultivating virtues such as industry, temperance, and frugality. But he was equally dedicated to bettering his community. He declared, The good men may do separately is small compared to what they may do collectively. And to this end, he rallied his tradesmen's friends in the Junto to launch projects to improve life in Philadelphia. The group organized America's first public subscription library, a fire corps, and a police patrol. Franklin also founded the American Philosophical Society to bring scientists and scholars from across the colonies together. He later established a hospital

and the college that became the University of Pennsylvania. By 1748, Franklin was 42 years old, and he had become successful enough to retire from the day-to-day work of running his printing business. He turned over management to a foreman, but he had no plans to slow down. He told his mother, I would rather have it said he lived usefully than he died rich. Other interests and ambitions were calling to him, and with his new freedom, he was determined to live usefully.

And soon, Benjamin Franklin would unlock one of nature's most enduring secrets, lighting a new path of scientific discovery. Now streaming. Welcome to Buy It Now, the show where aspiring entrepreneurs get the opportunity of a lifetime. I wouldn't be chasing it if I didn't believe that the world needs this product. In each episode, the entrepreneurs get 90 seconds to pitch to an audience of potential customers. This is match point, baby. If the audience liked the product, they'd pitch them in front of our panel of experts,

Gwyneth Paltrow, Anthony Anderson, Tabitha Brown, Tony Hawk, Christian Siriano. These panelists are looking for entrepreneurs whose ideas best fit the criteria of the four P's, pitch, product, popularity, and problem-solving ability. I'm going to give you a yes. I want to see it. If our panelists like the product, it goes into the Amazon Buy It Now store. You are the embodiment of what an American entrepreneur is. Oh, my God. Are we excited for this moment? Ah! I cannot believe it. Woo!

Buy It Now. Stream free on Freeview and Prime Video. In the Pacific Ocean, halfway between Peru and New Zealand, lies a tiny volcanic island. It's a little-known British territory called Pitcairn, and it harboured a deep, dark scandal. There wouldn't be a girl on Pitcairn once they reach the age of 10 that would still have heard it. It just happens to all of us. I'm journalist Luke Jones, and for almost two years, I've been investigating a shocking story that has left deep scars on generations of women and girls from Pitcairn.

When there's nobody watching, nobody going to report it, people will get away with what they can get away with. In the Pitcairn trials, I'll be uncovering a story of abuse and the fight for justice that has brought a unique, lonely Pacific island to the brink of extinction. Listen to the Pitcairn Trials exclusively on Wondery Plus. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts or Spotify. As Benjamin Franklin entered retirement, he turned his focus to his lifelong fascination with science. Ever since he was a child, he was desperate to make sense of the world around him. He consumed books on everything from botany to weather patterns. While sailing home from London at age 20, he studied dolphins and flying fish. Later,

he conducted an experiment proving that dark clothes absorb heat better than light clothes. And after investigating the cause of poor indoor heating, he invented a new type of wood-burning stove. By the time Franklin was in his 40s, his insatiable curiosity led him to the emerging field of electricity. In Franklin's day, few imagined that electricity would become a critical source of light and power. Instead, at the time, it was a form of entertainment. In 1743, Franklin watched a traveling showman set off sparks by creating friction with a glass tube. He was captivated. And over the next few years, Franklin poured his energy into studying electricity.

He performed experiments and coined new terms like battery, conductor, and charge. He began throwing electricity parties, amusing his friends in the Junto with parlor tricks. In one, he electrified a metal spider to make it appear to move of its own accord. And he wired a portrait of King George II so that anyone who touched the painting's gilded crown received a shock. He told a friend, I never was before engaged in any study that so totally engrossed my attention and my time. But Franklin wanted to find useful applications for electricity. And in the 18th century, lightning often destroyed homes and barns and especially churches, typically the

tallest structures in town. Many people assumed that lightning had a divine cause, but several European scientists guessed that lightning was actually a form of electricity. But no one had tested this theory. Franklin decided to devise an experiment. On June 10, 1752, storm clouds rolled into Philadelphia as Franklin and his 22-year-old son William walked out to an empty field. Franklin carried with him a silk kite with a twined string attached to its tail. A large metal key was tied to the end of this string. Franklin and his son let the kite fly and waited. When lightning flashed in the sky, Franklin touched his knuckle

against the key and felt a small shock. When it began to rain, sparks flew off the key. Franklin was ecstatic. He had demonstrated that lightning was indeed a form of electricity. So he turned his attention to creating a practical application for this discovery. To protect buildings from lightning, he invented a pointed metal lightning rod, which would attract electrical energy and conduct it safely into the ground. He installed rods like these on his house and other Philadelphia buildings, including the Pennsylvania State House, and he advised readers of his almanac to do the same. Franklin's experiment was a sensation on both sides of the Atlantic. The French king sent his compliments, and Harvard and Yale awarded him with honorary degrees. Franklin's natural curiosity had led him to become the most famous American in the world.

In the 1750s, Franklin channeled his renown into a burgeoning career in politics and public service. In both science and politics, he was pragmatic and determined to be a force for positive change. In 1751, Franklin was elected to Pennsylvania's Colonial Assembly. He would later explain, I conceived my becoming a member would enlarge my powers of doing good. I would not, however, insinuate that my ambition was not flattered. He quickly got to work pushing through bills to pave and light Philadelphia's streets. But he also looked beyond Philadelphia. In 1753, the British government appointed him as Deputy Postmaster General, the top post office job in the colonies. In this role, he introduced nightly

postal riders, managing to cut the delivery time between New York and Philadelphia to just 24 hours. He also established a home delivery system. These improvements sped the pace of communication, helping to knit the 13 colonies closer together. And serving as postmaster gave Franklin a broader vision of America than most of his peers. He firmly believed that the American colonies were key to the future of the British Empire, an empire that was fighting for dominance on the western frontier. For years, Britain and France had vied for control of North America. In 1754, land disputes between British and French settlers in the Ohio River Valley

ignited a full-scale conflict known as the French and Indian War. As the fighting intensified, the British government asked the colonies to stage a conference in Albany, New York. They were tasked with negotiating an alliance with Native Americans in the region. Colonial representatives would meet with members of the Iroquois Confederacy, a powerful alliance of six Indian nations that lived along the South Great Lakes. Pennsylvania chose Franklin as one of their delegates. But Franklin had an additional goal in mind. He believed that the threat posed by the French proved the need for greater unity among the 13 colonies.

He was inspired by the cooperation and skill of the Iroquois Confederacy, writing, It would be a very strange thing if six nations of ignorant savages could be capable of forming a scheme for such a union, and yet that alike union should be impracticable for ten or a dozen English colonies, to whom it is more necessary. So, before traveling to Albany, Franklin published an editorial in his Pennsylvania Gazette, urging the colonies to band together. Beside it was a cartoon of a snake, cut into pieces, labeled with the names of the colonies, and captioned, Join or Die. This clarion call for colonial unity was the first editorial cartoon in American history. And then, in June 1754, Franklin arrived at the Albany Congress with a plan for uniting the 13

colonies under a grand council that would coordinate defense and Indian relations. It was known as the Albany Plan. Imagine it's June 1754 in Albany, New York. You're a delegate from New York to the Albany Congress, and you and your fellow colonial representatives have just adjourned a meeting in a stiflingly hot chamber. As you pile up your notes into a neat stack, you look up to see Benjamin Franklin weaving his way through the throng to approach you. You have an inkling of what this might be about, and as he grows close, he extends his hand. My friend, I'd like to speak with you about a matter of great importance.

His jaw is set, and his eyes are ablaze with resolve. You tug at the collar of your coat. Yes, and what is it? I propose a union. A union of the colonies, to bring us together in common purpose. I see. We'll establish a grand council, composed of delegates from each of the colonies appointed by their respective assemblies.

This council will make treaties with the Indians, regulate trade, oversee frontier land sales, raise troops for our common defense, and of course, enact whatever taxes are needed to pay for it all. You look past him, grasping for a way out of this conversation. Well, you know, we're gathered here to negotiate with the Indians, not start a new government. Forgive me, sir, but this all sounds far too grand to work. Franklin waves his hand dismissively. Oh, the colonies are suffering from lack of cooperation. Each colony devises its own land policies which inevitably conflict with each other. This is the root of our Indian troubles. You shrug, acknowledging his point. You're not wrong, sir. Is it true that your nephew lives in the Ohio River Valley? You think of your nephew and his family and all the troubles they've endured in their dealings

with their Indian neighbors. Yes, he's had a rough go of it. Franklin nods sympathetically. But just imagine, together the colonies could pay for frontier force to defend settlers in the West. We could create a unified front to withstand any threat. You rub your temples and sigh. All right, sir, you may have a point here, but I'd like to see more details in writing. Still, your proposal is intriguing. A satisfied smile spreads across his face. Well, excellent. I'll prepare a proposal for your perusal. He walks away with a new spring in his step.

You hope Franklin's plan will benefit the future of the colonies and the well-being of your family. But you can't shake the feeling that your fellow members of the New York Colonial Assembly will be harder to persuade. In July, the Albany Congress approved Franklin's idea for a colonial union. But the various colonial assemblies and the British government ultimately rejected the plan. The individual colonies feared a loss of sovereignty, and British officials feared that it would lead to a dangerous consolidation of colonial power. Franklin's plan had failed, but his vision of colonial unity planted a seed. Although British officials had deemed the Albany Plan too radical, real

thoughts of independence were far from Franklin's mind. He simply wanted the people of Britain and America to be treated as equal subjects of the crown, with equal rights, equal liberties, and an equal tax burden. In 1757, the Pennsylvania Assembly was mired in a tax dispute with the owners of the Pennsylvania Colony. Most American colonies were ruled by the crown, but Pennsylvania was governed by a private family in Britain, the descendants of founder William Penn, and the Penns still owned most of Pennsylvania's unsettled land, but they refused to pay taxes on that land to the Colonial Assembly. So, in the summer of 1757, the Assembly sent Franklin to London to argue their case. He was accompanied by his son William, who was now 27. His wife Deborah and

their 15-year-old daughter Sally remained behind. But soon after arriving in Britain, Franklin discovered that the Penns were unwilling to budge. William Penn's son Thomas refused to pay any taxes, and he fought with Franklin over who had authority over the colony, the Colonial. William Penn's son, Thomas, refused to pay any taxes, and he fought with Franklin over who had authority over the colony, the Colonial Assembly or Penn's hand-picked colonial governor. Franklin confessed, I felt a more thorough contempt for Penn than I have ever before felt for any man living. For his part, Penn branded Franklin a malicious villain and turned negotiations over to his lawyers as the stalemate continued. Franklin expected to stay in London for five months, but he remained there for five years.

As negotiations dragged on, Franklin spent much of his time enjoying London's cosmopolitan society. He made new friends and traveled throughout England and Scotland with his son William. He also found time to invent a new musical instrument, a glass harmonica, that produced a high-pitched ethereal sound. He was tempted to stay in England for good and published an article in a London newspaper describing his respect for the mother country and admiration of everything British. But he still believed America was the jewel in the empire's crown. He told a friend, I have long been of the opinion that the foundations of the future grandeur and stability of the British Empire lie in America. And after years of negotiation,

the Penns eventually agreed to pay limited taxes on their lands. But they continued to insist that they alone had the authority to dictate the laws of the Pennsylvania colony, arguing that the elected assembly could only offer advice. Having at last come to a compromise, in the summer of 1762, Franklin decided it was finally time to return home. Though he had fallen short of his goals, he had won admiration and respect in British society, as had his son. In August of that year, the Crown appointed William as Royal Governor of New Jersey. He married an upper-class woman and prepared to take up his position. But like his father before him, he had dalliances with other women and would leave behind a son he fathered out of wedlock named Temple.

Then, at long last, in November 1762, Benjamin Franklin returned to Philadelphia. But he did not stay home for long. He soon left again, embarking on a seven-month postal inspection tour that took him from Virginia to New Hampshire. Traveling through the different colonies, he became uniquely equipped to see them as a whole and begin to understand their common concerns. In the meantime, disputes between the Pennsylvania Assembly and the Penn family continued to escalate, and in the fall of 1764, the Assembly decided to send Franklin back to England once again to represent their interests in Parliament and in the King's Court. Hundreds of cheering

supporters sent Franklin off. Cannons boomed in his honor. He didn't know how long he would be gone on this assignment, but he would arrive just in time for an unprecedented crisis, one that would unleash a storm of protest and fray the bonds of empire. How did Birkenstocks go from a German cobbler's passion project 250 years ago to the Barbie movie today. Who created that bottle of red sriracha with a green top that's permanently living in your fridge? Did you know that the Air Jordans were initially banned by the NBA? We'll explore all that and more in The Best Idea Yet, a brand new podcast from Wondery and T-Boy. This is Nick. This is Jack. And we've covered over a thousand episodes of pop business news stories on our daily podcast.

We've identified the most viral products of all time. And their wild origin stories that you had no idea about. From the Levi's 501 jeans to Legos. Come for the products you're obsessed with. Stay for the business insights that are going to blow up your group chat. Jack, Nintendo, Super Mario Brothers. Best selling video game of all time. How'd they do it? Nintendo never fires anyone, ever. Follow The Best Idea Yet on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to The Best Idea Yet

early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus. I'm Tristan Redman, and as a journalist, I've never believed in ghosts. But when I discovered that my wife's great-grandmother was murdered in the house next door to where I grew up, I started wondering about the inexplicable things that happened in my childhood bedroom. When I tried to find out more, I discovered that someone who slept in my room after me, someone I'd never met, was visited by the ghost of a faceless woman. So I started digging into the murder in my wife's family, and I unearthed family secrets nobody could have imagined. Ghost Story won Best Documentary Podcast at the 2024 Ambees and is a Best True Crime Nominee at the British Podcast Awards 2024. Ghost Story is now the first ever Apple Podcast

Series Essential. Each month, Apple Podcast editors spotlight one series that has captivated listeners with masterful storytelling, creative excellence, and a unique creative voice and vision. To recognize Ghost Story being chosen as the first series essential, Wondery has made it ad-free for a limited time, only on Apple Podcasts. If you haven't listened yet, head over to Apple Podcasts to hear for yourself. In March 1765, Benjamin Franklin had been back in London for only three months when the British Parliament handed down the Stamp Act. This notorious law imposed a direct tax on the American colonies by requiring all printed materials, from newspapers to playing cards,

to bear a government-issued stamp. In response, riots erupted in multiple cities. In Boston, a radical group called the Sons of Liberty hanged the local tax collector in effigy. Protesters denounced the law as taxation without representation, and some resurrected Franklin's join-or-die motto, created to encourage unity during the French and Indian War. Franklin did not support the Stamp Act, but few Americans held deeper affection for Britain. He was loyal to the crown and believed in the future of the British Empire.

He wrote to his son William describing his fears that this crisis was laying the foundation of a future total separation. Franklin was determined to avoid that and ease tensions. So he warned Pennsylvanians not to overreact. But Franklin's pleas for restraint sparked rumors that he supported and even helped author the Stamp Act. A Philadelphia cartoon depicted the devil whispering in Franklin's ear. And in the fall of 1765, Franklin's wife Deborah faced down a mob that descended on their Philadelphia home. Despite the animosity directed at him, though, Franklin continued trying to play mediator.

He flooded London newspapers with letters, insisting that the riots did not represent the sentiment of most colonists. He also circulated a political cartoon of his own, depicting a dismembered Britannia, her limbs labeled Virginia, Pennsylvania, New York, and New England. It was a warning that Britain was in danger of losing the colonies. Franklin was desperate to do whatever he could to strike a balance between imperial rule and American rights. Imagine it's February 13th, 1766, in the House of Commons in London. You and your fellow members of Parliament are interrogating Benjamin Franklin about the Stamp Act debacle in the colonies. Franklin stands

at the center of the vast chamber, dressed plainly and composed as ever, despite the hours of intense questioning. The Speaker sits beside him. He nods at you, signaling the start of your turn. You stand and clear your throat, locking eyes with Franklin. Mr. Franklin, surely the colonies can afford to pay the stamp tax? Franklin narrows his gaze. In my opinion, there is not enough gold and silver in the colonies to pay the stamp tax for even one year. But the British Army and Navy protect the colonies at great expense. Shouldn't Americans help pay to maintain these forces? Shouldn't they bear the burden of their own defense? I reject the premise of your question.

The colonies defended themselves during the last war, and in doing so, they defended British interests as well. They raised, clothed, and paid 25,000 soldiers at the cost of millions of pounds. But Parliament reimbursed the colonies for their expenses. You are wrong, sir. Parliament reimbursed only a small part of what was spent. You feel a surge of anger as Franklin questions the truth of your words, but you press on, refusing to let him get the better of you. Mr. Franklin, what was the attitude of the Americans toward Great Britain before this text? Oh, the best in the world. Americans submitted willingly to the Crown and Parliament. It cost you nothing in forts, garrisons, or armies to keep them in subjection.

They had not only respect, but affection for their mother country. And what is their attitude now? Very much altered. You scan the chamber. Many of your colleagues are exchanging looks of unease. I see. But couldn't a military force compel Americans to pay the stamp tax? Franklin cocks an eye over his spectacles. No, I do not see how that would be possible. And why not? Well, suppose a military force is sent into America. They will find nobody in arms.

Then what? They can't force a man to purchase stamps. Soldiers would not find a rebellion, but they may indeed make one. As the chamber erupts at Franklin's words, you feel a pang of doubt gnawing at your conscience. With a heavy heart, you take your seat once more, your mind racing with a troubling realization that you and your colleagues may have acted unwisely. It is beginning to feel like the only way out of this mess will be to repeal the Stamp Act altogether. In February 1766, Parliament summoned Franklin to explain American opposition to the Stamp Act.

He stood for four hours, answering nearly 200 questions. His patient and straightforward testimony helped persuade Parliament to repeal the Stamp Act the following month. His performance also restored his reputation back home. And soon, Franklin became America's leading spokesman in England. Besides representing Pennsylvania, he was also appointed as agent for the colonies of Georgia, New Jersey, and Massachusetts. He continued his efforts to restore good relations between America and Britain, explaining, Being born and bred in one of the countries, and having lived long and made many agreeable

connections in the other, I wish all prosperity to both. But there was a cost to his long absence from Philadelphia. His relationship with his wife Deborah became increasingly strained. She felt neglected by her husband, especially after suffering a stroke. But Franklin remained focused on other matters. In 1767 and 1768, Parliament passed the Townsend Acts, initiating new taxes on glass, lead, paint, paper, and tea in the colonies. Franklin continued trying to bridge the growing rift between Britain and the colonies, but he found that he was seen in England of being too much an American, and in America of being too much an Englishman. Tensions reached new heights in the wake of the

Boston Massacre. On a snowy night in March 1770, British soldiers tasked with enforcing the Townshend Acts fired on a Massachusetts mob, killing five Americans. Franklin felt the British had no right to deploy troops against Americans. He called the soldiers detestable murderers, but like most Americans, he was still far from advocating full independence from Britain. Nevertheless, tensions continued to flare. In December 1772, Franklin was shown a packet of confidential letters written by Thomas Hutchinson, the royal governor of Massachusetts. In these letters, Hutchinson urged the British to use harsher measures to suppress colonial unrest. Hoping that leaders

in Boston would redirect their anger from the British Parliament to Hutchinson himself, Franklin sent copies of these letters to the Massachusetts Assembly, under the condition that they would not be made public. He later explained, I was convinced that the letters would remove much of their resentment against Britain as a harsh, unkind mother, and by that means promote a reconciliation. But against Franklin's wishes, Massachusetts leaders published the Hutchinson letters in the summer of 1773. Their contents sparked outrage throughout the colonies, and the Massachusetts Assembly petitioned for Hutchinson's removal. By the end of that same year, Franklin publicly admitted that

he had been the one to send the letters to Boston, and he was summoned to appear before the Privy Council in London, a group made up of advisors to the king. But in the lead-up to this hearing, news of the Boston Tea Party arrived in London. In December 1773, members of the Sons of Liberty, dressed as Mohawk Indians, boarded three ships in Boston Harbor, destroying 342 chests of tea worth nearly $2 million in today's money. Franklin criticized the attack on private property as an act of violent injustice on our part. But British officials were enraged by the brazen act of defiance in Boston, and Franklin was a convenient scapegoat. On January 29, 1774, Franklin walked into the cockpit, an amphitheater in Whitehall used for cockfights during the reign

of King Henry VIII. There, Franklin appeared before the Privy Council and a crowd of eager spectators. For the next hour, an official named Alexander Wedderburn berated Franklin as the face of colonial treachery and violence. He called him a true incendiary, whose followers have been inflaming Massachusetts against His Majesty's government. He continuously banged on a table while a crowd laughed and jeered. Through it all, Franklin stood silently and betrayed no emotions. When asked to give a statement, he refused. Two days later, Franklin was fired from his job as deputy postmaster in the colonies. British newspapers denounced him as a traitor, and he feared he was in danger of arrest.

For years, Franklin had devoted his energies to finding a compromise between Britain and the colonies. But now he was accused of inciting the very conflict he had worked tirelessly to prevent. The brutal public humiliation he suffered in the cockpit was a turning point. He had arrived in Britain as a loyal British citizen. He would leave as a reluctant American revolutionary. And soon Franklin would find himself at the center of a struggle for freedom unlike anything the world had ever seen, one that threatened to splinter the British Empire, tear apart his own family. From Wondery, this is episode one of our two-part series, Benjamin Franklin,

from American History Tellers. On the next episode, colonial militiamen exchange fire with British redcoats in the Massachusetts countryside, igniting the American Revolutionary War. And Benjamin Franklin sails to Paris to negotiate an alliance with the power to make or break America's fight for independence, France. If you like American History Tellers, you can binge all episodes early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music. And before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com slash survey. Edited by Dorian Marina. Produced by Alita Rosansky. Coordinating producer Desi Blaylock.

Managing producer Matt Gant. Senior managing producer Ryan Lohr. Senior producer Andy Herman. Executive producers are Jenny Lauer-Beckman and Marsha Louis for Wondery. Are you in trouble with the law? Need a lawyer who will fight like hell to keep you out of jail? We defend and we fight just like you'd want your own children defended. Whether you're facing a drug charge, caught up on a murder rap,

accused of committing war crimes, look no further than Paul Bergeron. All the big guys go to Bergeron because he gets everybody off. You name it, Paul can do it. Need to launder some money? Broker a deal with a drug cartel? Take out a witness? From Wondery, the makers of Dr. Death and Over My Dead Body, comes a new series about a lawyer who broke all the rules.

Isn't it funny how witnesses disappear or how evidence doesn't show up or somebody doesn't testify correctly? In order to win at all costs. If Paul asked you to do something, it wasn't a request. It was an order. I'm your host, Brandon James Jenkins. Follow Criminal Attorney on the Wondery app

or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to Criminal Attorney early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts.