American History Tellers - Rebellion in the Early Republic - Crisis in the West | 4

Episode Date: April 8, 2020

In 1794, anti-government protests grew into an all-out rebellion, and President Washington faced his first major test of federal authority. Some 7,000 armed Westerners marched on Pittsburgh and threatened its residents. Violent resistance to the whiskey tax soon spread from western Pennsylvania to Kentucky, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, and Georgia.Washington and his cabinet held tense meetings to debate a response to the so-called Whiskey Rebellion. The country’s first president was determined to act quickly and decisively, despite divisions among his close advisers. Nothing less than the sovereignty of the young nation was at stake.Support us by supporting our sponsors!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 July 1794. Sweat beads on your brow. It's a steaming summer morning and you're riding through the woods near Greensburg, Pennsylvania, some 30 miles east of Pittsburgh. You're planning to intercept the post-rider on his daily route to Philadelphia. You just hope you haven't missed him already.

Normally, you would never interfere with a government rider, but these are desperate times. The government changed everything when they killed one of your own at Bower Hill. You have to catch this male if you and your fellow rebels have any hope of stopping the government from destroying your way of life. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a man galloping toward you from the west. Giddy up! You're riding even faster now. Too fast for the post rider. He blocked the path, and his startled horse rears. Whoa, whoa, steady now. He clings to the horse's mane, but it continues to whinny and stomp. He loses his balance and tumbles to the ground as you dismount.

He hits the ground with a thud. The rider winces in pain. He clutches his side. Before he can get leveraged in the wet mud, you're above him, pinning him to the ground with your boot. Not so fast. The man gasps for air as you pull a pistol from your belt and aim it at his head. He flinches in terror. What do you want with me? It's not you that we want. It's your letters. Stay back and you won't get hurt. You walk over to the rearing horse and steady it. Shh, come now, you're okay. You manage to remove the mail bag from the saddle.

You dump out its contents and kneel down in the mud to rifle through them. Anything in here from Washington? Why should I tell you? Fine, I'll just take the whole packet. We'll find out where Pittsburgh's loyalties really lie. You realize it's a crime to steal the mail. You talk of crime? What's a few letters compared to the government robbing us with this tax?

You remove a piece of hemp rope from your waist and bind the man's wrists. You better not tell anybody about this, or you'll be in for a lot worse. You mount your horse to gallop off to meet the rebel leaders. There's no turning back now. You just hope these letters prove useful. The fate of the West depends on it. Now streaming. Welcome to Buy It Now, where aspiring entrepreneurs get 90 seconds to pitch to an audience of potential customers.

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Our history, your story. On July 26, 1794, rebels in western Pennsylvania attacked a mail carrier, stealing letters in which Pittsburgh residents criticized the rebellion. They would later use these letters to justify plans for a massive military rally outside Pittsburgh. Anti-government resistance on the frontier had reached a new fever pitch. Opposition to the federal tax on distilled spirits, known as the whiskey tax, had been building in the West. Settlers were refusing to pay the tax to a government they believed had done little to improve their lives and were defying federal power through petitions and mob violence. Federal officials saw their worst fears unfolding, a violent insurgency that threatened the authority of the new U.S. government.

As summer turned to fall, President George Washington and his advisers hammered out a response to the growing crisis. But they were divided on how far to go. Nothing less than the future of the young republic was at stake, and officials had no way of knowing whether their actions would restore law and order or provoke civil war. This is Episode 4, Crisis in the West. By the summer of 1794, the standoff between rebels in the western frontier and the federal government had broken out in violence. On July 23rd, three days before rebels assaulted a mail carrier, dozens of rebels gathered at the Mingo Creek Church in Washington County, Pennsylvania.

The atmosphere crackled with anger. A week before, local war hero James McFarlane had been shot dead at the Battle of Bower Hill when rebels attacked the wealthy tax collector John Neville and burned his lavish plantation to the ground. Federal troops had defended the plantation, and now McFarlane's freshly dug grave lay just across the road from the assembly. Many rebels pointed to his death as a symbol of federal aggression and proof of how far the government was willing to go to enforce the unjust whiskey tax on poor farmers. At the raucous meeting at the Mingo Creek Church,

a new leader stepped onto the stage. David Bradford was a wealthy and successful lawyer in Washington County, but he sympathized with the struggles of his poorer neighbors. He had participated in the Pittsburgh Conventions in 1791 and 92, when local leaders tried and failed to repeal the whiskey tax. But so far, Bradford had stopped short of taking part in any violence against tax collectors, and he hadn't participated in the storming of Bower Hill the previous week. But all that was about to change. At the meeting, Bradford rose and launched into a fiery speech denouncing the federal government and declaring his support for the bloody attack on Bower Hill. One observer described Bradford's address as a most violent and inflammatory oration. The radical faction in the crowd

erupted in cheers. Moderates, though, were appalled. The state legislator Hugh Henry Breckinridge tried to intervene, telling jokes to dispel the tension, but to no use. Next, he offered the crowd his legal opinion, declaring the assault on Bower Hill to be morally right, but legally wrong. Finally, Breckinridge told the crowd that they had committed treason and that the president had every right to raise an army against them. He encouraged the men to seek a peaceful solution, for they had no hope of winning militarily. The crowd went silent. It wasn't what they wanted to hear. Breckinridge and the other moderates sensed their influence, and their ability to hold back the violence was slipping. So he abandoned the meeting to return

to Pittsburgh, taking with him any chance of a more moderate path forward. He left Bradford, with his heated rhetoric, now in charge. Soon, printed broadsides were distributed throughout the region, threatening violence to anyone who opposed the rebellion. Three days later, Bradford directed his followers to rob a post writer outside of Pittsburgh in the hopes of intercepting intelligence from the federal government. What they found were letters from Pittsburgh residents that criticized the rebels. Bradford claimed the letters proved that locals were hostile to his resistance movement, and he called for a military assembly to rally rebel troops to march on Pittsburgh and its garrison in retaliation. This assembly would take place at Braddock's Field, a vast plain

eight miles east of Pittsburgh on the banks of the Monongahela River. Bradford circulated a letter announcing the gathering for August 1st, declaring that the moment of crisis had come in which every citizen must express his sentiments, not by his words, but by his actions. He promised that arms and ammunition would be supplied to anyone in need. But as the date of the rally he'd called for approached, Bradford wavered. Marching on the garrison would amount to outright treason, and he feared the government's response. He issued a new order,

reversing his call for the assembly. But the rebels were not to be dissuaded. The mass anger of his fellow rebels strengthened Bradford's resolve. He quickly denied that he'd ever hesitated about calling the assembly and pushed through with his original plan. Brackenridge, the moderate state legislator, observed that after Bradford saw the violence of the multitude, he became more inflammatory than he had ever been. Though wealthy elites like Bradford served as leaders of the growing rebellion, it was clear that they had limited sway. The poor and landless were the ones in charge. Meanwhile, the residents of Pittsburgh had learned about the rebel gathering planned at Braddock's Field, and they began to prepare. At a town meeting on July 31st, just one night before the scheduled rebel gathering, locals decided that compliance

would be the safest strategy. They expelled from town three men whose intercepted letters had angered the rebels. They also appointed a committee to go to Braddock's Field and announce the town's sympathy for the rebels' cause. These measures were designed to appease the rebels and safeguard Pittsburgh. Residents stayed up through the night, hiding money and valuables, anxiously awaiting the rebel call to arms. Imagine it's the night of August 1st, 1794. You're listening at the door of your shuttered Pittsburgh tavern.

You can hear the cries of hundreds of rebels parading up and down the street. Your wife and children are hunkered down upstairs. A loud noise has you worried that the rebels are breaking into your cellar. You open the front door and see that you're mistaken. The cellar is still locked. The men are angrily firing into the air. A group of rebels emerge from the pall of smoke in front of you. All right, boys, let's grab what we can. Let's empty this town before we burn it down. The men look over, and you catch their eyes. You realize

you have to act now if there's any chance of saving your business. You decide to throw caution to the wind. You there, you gentlemen look like you could use a drink. Of course, a drink is the last thing these men need. But you want to get on their good side. One of the men in a buckskin shirt and handkerchief speaks up. Well, I won't say no to that. What do you have? How about a cask of whiskey? Help me roll one out into the street. The man looks surprised at your offer, but he isn't about to turn you down.

He follows you into the tavern. Together, you heave a barrel onto its side and roll it outside. You take a whack at the wooden plug with a mallet, and the men eagerly fill their flasks. Well, isn't this just right? A toast with whiskey to striking down the damn whiskey law. Next, we'll get the judges. This is just the start. Oh, I completely agree. Better anarchy than injustice. That's what I say. The man in the buckskin shirt narrows his gaze and gives you a questioning stare. Maybe you just made the biggest mistake of your life,

giving these armed and clearly unstable men more drink. You try not to glance at the upstairs bedroom window. What? You doubt my sincerity? Well, I don't know. We just don't meet many townspeople on our side. I'm a Westerner, aren't I? Finally, the rebel shakes his head and gives you a half-smile. Takes a big swig from his flask and turns back to the other men. Looks like we have more friends here than we thought, boys.

Here, drink up. You laugh and toast with the men, deeply relieved. Your plan seems to have worked. For now. By mid-afternoon on August 1st, 1794, 7,000 rebels had converged on Braddock's Field. All throughout the day, the men shared whiskey and fired muskets in the air in excitement. They wore buckskin hunting gear and handkerchiefs tied on their heads, akin to garb worn by Indian warriors.

The majority of the men at the rally were only indirectly impacted by the excise tax. Only a third of them owned whiskey stills. Most of these rebels were poor and without property. The assembly gave them an outlet to vent their resentment and their disillusionment with the federal government. Many of the rebels hoped to plunder Pittsburgh.

For settlers struggling to eke out a living on the frontier, Pittsburgh embodied the wealthy, cosmopolitan life that was out of reach for them. They called the town Sodom, after the biblical city of sin. One excited rebel twirled his hat on the muzzle of his rifle and declared to the crowd at Braddocks Field, I have a bad hat now, but I expect to have a better one soon. Throughout the day, groups of rebels broke off and headed into Pittsburgh to loot the town. One rebel horseman rode through the streets waving a tomahawk. He warned residents, it is not the excise law only that must go down. Your district and associate

judges must go down. Your high offices and salaries. A great deal more is to be done. I am but beginning yet. Some women, too, came along with the rebels to help oversee the looting and strip Pittsburgh homes of fine clothes and furnishing. Despite their plans, though, no real looting took place. Pittsburgh escaped largely unharmed, thanks to the residents' savvy decisions to appease the rebels. The residents' friendliness and hospitality, along with the critical move of expelling the rebels' main targets, saved the town. The rebels slept at Braddock's Field that night, but the next day, Bradford marched them through Pittsburgh as a show of strength.

Rebel leaders had originally intended to assault the garrison at Fort Fayette in Pittsburgh, but they held back, fearing the prospect of heavy artillery fire. They eventually chose to march peacefully past the fort instead. For all the rebels' promises to level Pittsburgh, in the end the protests petered out. Still, the armed and passionate crowd was the largest that the Whiskey Rebellion had drawn so far, and signs of resistance continued to spread throughout the country that August. Rebels hoisted liberty poles, the same symbols used to show support

for the Patriot cause during the American Revolution. They flew flags with inflammatory slogans like death to traitors, liberty and no excise, and no asylum for traitors and cowards. Most alarming to Eastern observers, there were even reports of special six-stripe flags of independence representing four western Pennsylvania

and two Virginia counties. There was also scattered violence. Rebel gangs burned farm buildings belonging to Major Kirkpatrick, who had led U.S. troops in the defense of Bower Hill. The rebels continued to attack tax collectors and shun locals who didn't demonstrate sympathy. Still, they lacked a unified strategy.

Nonetheless, government officials were horrified by their show of strength. After the gathering in Pittsburgh, the future of the resistance movement grew uncertain. Leaders hoped to clarify their goals and decide once and for all if they would ramp up opposition or negotiate with the government. Bradford wrote to residents of the western towns of Pennsylvania and Virginia, inviting them to send delegates to a regional meeting. The crisis has now come, he wrote, submission or opposition. On August 14th, two weeks after the show of force in Pittsburgh, over 200 delegates gathered at Parkinson's Ferry on a bluff overlooking the Monongahela River. Another several hundred armed

men watched the proceedings. Bradford once again appealed to the radicals in the crowd, calling for plans to acquire arms and ammunition. Given the choice between submission or opposition, his pick was clear. But this time, the moderates were better prepared. They proposed a plan with four main points. First, they opposed the federal government's practice of forcing people to face trial outside their own town. Second, they would petition Congress to repeal and replace the excise tax with something less odious for rural Westerners. Third, they pledged to support state laws, but stopped short of saying they would comply with all federal laws. And lastly, they would take steps to meet with government peace commissioners to find a solution to the standoff. Several of the armed spectators cried out for more

radical tactics, but the mood had shifted. One moderate state legislator reflected that time alone had been enough to calm passions. The delegates voted to take the more restrained approach. Still, it wasn't clear how the federal government would respond or whether the time for negotiations had passed. But then word from President Washington reached the assembly. Officials from his cabinet, catching wind of the rebel gathering, had traveled as fast as they could for days and were now just four miles away. On the second day of the meeting, they sent a message to the rebel delegates. President Washington was offering to negotiate for peace. For weeks, the moderates had feared Washington would send troops to quash the rebellion. A chance to negotiate and avoid bloodshed was just what they had hoped for. But they knew that

this was a decisive moment. Negotiations could either extinguish the rebellion or, if they failed, fan its flames. Richard Bandler revolutionized the world of self-help all thanks to an approach he developed called neurolinguistic programming. Even though NLP worked for some, its methods have been criticized for being dangerous in the wrong hands. Throw in Richard's dark past as a cocaine addict and murder suspect, and you can't help but wonder what his true intentions were. I'm Sachi Cole. And I'm Sarah Hagee. And we're the hosts of Scamfluencers, a weekly podcast from Wondery that takes you along the twists and turns of the most infamous scams of all time, the impact on victims,

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was on the brink of collapse, and behind his facade of wealth and success was a litany of bad investments, mounting debt, and multi-million dollar fraud. Hi, I'm Lindsey Graham, the host of Wondery Show Business Movers. We tell the true stories of business leaders who risked it all, the critical moments that define their journey, and the ideas that transform the way we live our lives. In our latest series, a young refugee fleeing the Nazis arrives in Britain determined to make something of his life. Transcription by CastingWords do anything to get ahead. Follow Business Movers wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen ad-free on the Amazon Music or Wondery app. George Washington had stepped into the presidency determined to preserve and strengthen a divided republic. By the summer of 1794, he was facing the first major domestic crisis in his presidency. But his

response to the Whiskey Rebellion was not just that of a distant politician. Years of first-hand experience on the frontier had shaped his attitude toward the rebels and helped form his policy. Washington had first traveled west on a surveying expedition when he was just 16. Throughout the journey, he was impressed with the region's plentiful timber and rich soil, but he was repulsed by the frontiersmen themselves, writing that he found himself amongst a parcel of barbarians and an uncouth set of people. When he encountered German settlers who could not speak English, he deemed them as ignorant a set of people as the Indians.

A few years later, Washington began his military career out west, during the French and Indian War. Afterward, he helped award land claims to veterans. He himself bought up several large parcels, amassing tens of thousands of acres of western land. But Washington lived back east, and once he returned home, he joined the class of absentee landlords, resented by westerners. In the years to come, Washington would have to fend off squatters who tried to occupy his property, and he grew frustrated with settlers' refusal to honor his land rights. So by the time he was president, Washington had developed several decades' worth of personal

prejudices against Westerners. He questioned the loyalty of the frontiersmen, especially after Shays' Rebellion and independence movements in North Carolina and Kentucky in the 1780s. But Washington also firmly believed that the West was essential to the country's future prosperity and security. He knew the region was a crucial buffer against encroachments by European powers. Now, with rural distillers and farmers protesting the federal tax on whiskey, Washington grew alarmed. He believed that the growing rebellion in western Pennsylvania posed a significant threat to the nation's survival, and he was stunned by news of the August 1st military rally at Braddock's Field near Pittsburgh. So the following day, on August 2nd,

Washington and his cabinet met with Pennsylvania state officials and the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court to debate how to subdue the rebellion. Washington had a few options. The Militia Act of 1792 had set out the terms for a military response. Under that law, the president could mobilize state militias to put an end to domestic rebellion, but only with the Supreme Court justices' approval. At the August 2nd meeting, Washington announced that the rebellion struck at the root of all law and order. He declared that the most spirited and firm measures were necessary to protect the Constitution at the root of all law and order. He declared that the most

spirited and firm measures were necessary to protect the Constitution and the rule of law. He asked the Pennsylvania representatives to call out the militia, but the state leaders vehemently disagreed. They believed that a show of force would only escalate hostility with the rebels. That day's meeting ended in a stalemate. Over the next few days, Washington's Treasury Secretary and close ally Alexander Hamilton prepared the case for military force. Hamilton produced a report characterizing events in western Pennsylvania as a domestic insurrection. He argued that the regional leaders who had issued petitions in 1791 and 92 were instigating violence among the people,

and he cited the failure of local law enforcement to respond to attacks and noted that reforms to the whiskey tax had done little to stem the rebellion. Hamilton concluded that the only solution was to dispatch 12,000 troops to the region. In comparison, only about 11,000 American soldiers had fought the British at Yorktown. Hamilton's proposal ignited a heated debate within the region. In comparison, only about 11,000 American soldiers had fought the British at Yorktown. Hamilton's proposal ignited a heated debate within the administration. Secretary of War Henry Knox joined Hamilton in advocating for a military solution, but Secretary of State Edmund Randolph disagreed, urging the president to instead send a peace commission and negotiate with the rebels. Randolph argued that unnecessarily harsh action that lacked

a spirit of reconciliation would only inflame tensions. Washington weighed both positions. He told his advisors he was determined to go every length that the Constitution and laws would permit, but no further, to end the rebellion. By the end of the cabinet meeting on August 6th, Washington had made his decision. He landed on a broad approach that would prepare the government for all possible contingencies. He decided to send a peace commission to negotiate with the rebels, while simultaneously issuing a preliminary call for militiamen. His strategy was a savvy political move, as well as practical. Washington wanted to demonstrate that he had exhausted every possible option before sending troops into the

field. The peace commission would help shield his administration from public criticism, but it would also give him time to raise and supply a militia. On August 7, 1794, the president issued a proclamation calling for the rebels to stand down and threatening military suppression if they refused. He invoked the Militia Act of 1792, announcing that the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court had approved the use of military force. Meanwhile, the Secretary of War sent orders to the governors of Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Maryland, and Virginia to raise a total of 13,000 militiamen. But that same day, Washington rushed three peace commissioners to the region to negotiate an end to the rebellion.

Imagine it's mid-August 1794. You and your two fellow peace commissioners have been sent to the frontier by President Washington. You've just arrived at a Pittsburgh tavern to meet with some rebel leaders. Everywhere you go, you've been stunned by the unruliness out on the frontier, and this tavern is no different. Outside, a man is directing a dozen others and erecting a liberty pole. You stare through the window at the flag waving atop it. You're horrified to realize it's not the stars and stripes of the United States, but the six-stripe flag of Western independence. Well, that's a fine thing, isn't it? You're startled when a man at the counter next to you strikes up a conversation. But perhaps he can be useful, help you gauge the prospects for peace. Surely some of these men must be reasonable.

Oh, yes, indeed. There is quite a crowd out there, isn't there? Much to your chagrin, the man wears a satisfied smile. Yes, that's the tallest pole I've seen yet. I think it's about time Western counties join together, stand up against this tyranny. You don't like where this is going, but you decide to test further. Yes, but what about the peace negotiations? Surely a compromise can be reached. As long as the rebels agree to follow the law, the government will grant them

amnesty, I've heard. The man stares you up and down. It seems to dawn on him that you're not from around here. And what kind of compromise is that? Nothing but the repeal of the whiskey tax will satisfy us. If the government doesn't agree to that, well, maybe there shouldn't be a government at all. You nearly spill your drink. But it's just one of the rebels outside shooting off his rifle in celebration. This crowd is getting a little too rowdy for your taste. My God, I've never seen

so much chaos in all my life. I knew things were a little less civilized out here, but I didn't expect this barbarity. Oh, is that right? Trust me, you haven't seen a fraction of what Westerners are capable of. You give a strained smile and quickly take leave. Your brief conversation leaves you feeling more pessimistic than ever. You dash upstairs to write a letter to the president. You must reach him quickly. It's clear now that only a show of strength will solve this crisis. You must advise Washington to dispatch troops without delay if it's not already too late. Neither Washington nor his peace commissioners had been optimistic that negotiations with the rebels would succeed. The commissioners' trip only confirmed their doubts.

Even though the moderates took back control of the Parkinson's Ferry meeting on August 14th, on-the-ground observations from Washington's team convinced the government that the extremist minority held the upper hand. The commissioners feared that waiting for talks to play out over time would be too risky. They wrote to Washington recommending immediate mobilization. The administration had also heard troubling reports that some rebels had met with British and Spanish officials about possible alliances. The United States government was keenly aware that unrest was not limited to western Pennsylvania. Revolts had erupted in Kentucky, in the western parts of Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, and Georgia. The government's hold on the frontier seemed fragile. As talks with the rebels continued, Washington convened an emergency

cabinet meeting. On August 23rd, tense discussions were held behind closed doors in the private study of the executive mansion in Philadelphia. The cabinet deliberated for eight long hours as Washington weighed his options. On one side was Secretary of State Randolph, who had hoped to avoid sending the army. On the other side was Hamilton, who remained a fierce advocate for military action. The warnings from Washington's peace commissioners only strengthened Hamilton's argument, and in the end, Randolph's hopes for a non-violent solution were dashed. He agreed to Hamilton's plan, and both advisors recommended that the president mobilize militia forces under Virginia General Henry Lee. Hamilton immediately

began drawing up arrangements for arms and supplies. The administration knew they had to act fast if they wanted to avoid fighting the rebels in winter. Washington added strict guidance. He urged General Lee to prepare his forces in secret. While talks continued in western Pennsylvania, no one could know that battle plans were underway. Back on the frontier, negotiations were still playing out. On August 28th, the western negotiators explained the government's peace plan to 60 delegates assembled in Brownsville, 40 miles south of Pittsburgh. Convening outside in the sweltering summer heat, they debated the government's terms.

General amnesty for crimes committed during the rebellion in exchange for a restoration of order. The terms also committed the government to try federal cases in local state courts, a key demand from Westerners who had had trouble traveling far to face charges against them. The government would also look into new measures to help distillers who paid their taxes late. Yet the peace terms left the whiskey tax largely intact. Radicals at the meeting were initially so angry at hearing the government's proposed deal that the moderates decided to hold off on a vote until the next day, hoping passions would calm down. The following morning, moderate leader Albert Gallatin made a two-hour speech warning the crowd against armed secession and reminding

the delegates how Shea's rebellion was quashed. Fellow moderate Hugh Henry Brackenridge spoke next, telling the crowd that they stood no chance in a potential war against the United States. Despite these appeals, radical leader David Bradford remained steadfast in urging war. Eventually, the delegates agreed to vote on the government's terms in a secret ballot. By a narrow margin, the Westerners approved the government's plan. Finally, a deal had been reached, but the government's peace commissioners still worried about the settlers' loyalty. They had hoped for a unanimous agreement, but the rebel ranks were still sharply divided. The commissioners pushed for a public referendum to be held on September 11th in every township in western Pennsylvania. They offered each male citizen a chance to sign a pledge of loyalty in exchange for amnesty for past crimes, hoping to separate the loyal citizens from the rebels.

Reactions to the peace terms and loyalty oaths varied from town to town. Some towns voted overwhelmingly in favor of submission. Others still held pockets of resistance, especially where large gaps between the rich and poor remained. But overall, tempers were cooling throughout the region. Even the radical leader Bradford realized which way the wind was blowing. Just two weeks after calling for rebellion and speaking out against the government's peace terms in Brownsville, he too signed a loyalty pledge. But Bradford's change of heart didn't stop Washington and Hamilton from identifying him as a dangerous rebel.

In mid-September, the government peace commissioners updated Washington on the rebels' response to the loyalty pledges. They described a great diversity of opinion, leading Washington and Hamilton to believe that Westerners' commitment to peace was fragile at best. In the end, despite the peace deal and rebel leaders such as Bradford signing loyalty pledges, the federal government pushed ahead with its military plans. On September 25th, Washington issued a proclamation announcing he was raising a militia. It was his final warning. He had declared that the time for overtures of forgiveness was over. The Constitution was under threat. A few days later, the president would take up his command. At 62 years old, Washington would become the first and only

sitting president to ever lead troops in the field. The nation he had fought for all those years ago was in jeopardy, and he was determined to defend it. 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 pitched them in front of our panel of experts. Gwyneth Paltrow. Anthony Anderson. Tabitha Brown.

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to warn those whose lives were in danger. And it turns out, convincing a total stranger someone wants them dead is not easy. Follow Kill List on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to Kill List and more Exhibit C true crime shows like Morbid early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus. Check out Exhibit C in the Wondery app for all your true crime listening. Imagine it's late September 1794 in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. You're at home with your 17-year-old son. You're squinting over your amending.

The fading light makes you suddenly realize how late it's gotten. You rise to start dinner when you notice the fire in the hearth skidding low. Son, will you go out in the shed bringing some logs for the fire? Of course. Just then you hear a noise. You go over to the window and see soldiers galloping toward your house. Your chest tightens with fear. The army has been roaming through town for days. From what you've heard, they're a rough and dangerous lot. No, no, on second thought,

you better stay inside. You open the door wide enough to see the soldiers, but not wide enough to let them in. Good evening, ma'am. Good evening, sir. What can I do for you? The soldier's cap is askew, and you detect a whiff of alcohol on his breath. You steady yourself. We're combing the area looking for suspects who have raised liberty polls in recent days. Is your husband at home? No, sir. My husband died years ago.

The soldier tilts his head to look past you. You turn around and follow his gaze, and your heart sinks. Oh, perhaps your boy joined the rabble-rousers. You thrust out your chin in defiance. No, my son is innocent. He's no rioter. He's just a boy. But we'll see about that. The soldier pushes past you. Two more men follow him in. Stop this! Leave my house at once! But they ignore you, and your son is no match for three armed soldiers. They drag him out of the house. You follow them out the door, blood pounding in your ears.

You stick close as the soldiers pin him up against a tree and point their pistols at him. Well, did you join men who raised a liberty pole in town earlier this month? Before your son can answer, you call out, I swear he took no part in that. The soldier whiffs his head at you. And why should we believe you, ma'am? He helps tend our land all day. He's got no time to join any mobs. He's all I got. The soldier lowers his pistol slowly, and you breathe a sigh of relief. He turns to his friends. Uh, we'll be on our way then, but before we go, we'll oblige ourselves to some of this firewood. And what's in the kitchen?

Smells good. I'm starving. You pull your son into a hug. Then the pair of you watch in horror as the government soldiers ransack your home. You wonder what kind of army targets innocent civilians. How could the government launch an invasion into its own country? Back in August, Washington had called on the governors of Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Maryland, and Virginia to begin quietly mobilizing nearly 13,000 militiamen in case peace talks failed. Now, with Washington's public proclamation that he was raising an army, the recruitment effort began in earnest. Easterners largely supported the military response. They were used to consuming newspapers with detailed accounts of violence on the frontier,

and they reacted to the calls for soldiers with patriotic fervor. Hundreds of wealthy city residents seeking military glory volunteered to enlist, on the condition that they received a rank they felt suited their position in society. But raising an army was still no easy matter. Draft evasion was common, especially among lower classes in rural areas. The army that marched west in September 1794 was a study in contrast. The wealthy city residents filled the officer ranks, commanding mostly poor and landless draftees. Many of the residents filled the officer ranks, commanding mostly poor and landless draftees. Many of the draftees were recent immigrants who lacked the money to hire

substitutes to serve in their place. On October 4, 1794, President Washington donned his general's uniform and rode into Carlisle, Pennsylvania, a staging area for the march westward. Townspeople lined the streets. The courthouse displayed banners with pro-government slogans, including Washington is Ever Triumphant and Woe to Anarchists and the Reign of Laws. The troops paraded before the commander-in-chief in a display of martial splendor. Newspapers nationwide described the scene, and foreign ministers even sent accounts back to Europe. A few days later, Washington met with moderate Western leaders who had taken part in the peace negotiations. They hoped to persuade the president that the tide was turning towards submission

and that the army should retreat. But Washington refused to budge. He told them that nothing short of unequivocal proofs of absolute submission from the rebels would stop the army's march. By October 20th, the president had finished reviewing the ranks. He put General Henry Lee in charge and headed back to Philadelphia. The army began a grueling march across the mountains toward western Pennsylvania, some 200 miles away. The soldiers marched up to 25 miles a day, slogging through cold rain and

rough terrain. The draftees had no uniforms, and the clothes they did wear were hardly suited to the harsh conditions of the Alleghenies. Blankets, tents, and rations purchased along the way were in short supply. Illness was common, made worse by bad weather. Officers managed to avoid these hardships by boarding in taverns and homes, but they struggled to maintain discipline. The camps were rife with drunkenness and gambling. Men refused to follow orders. Officers were constantly searching for deserters and whipped offenders on a daily basis. Locals along the army's route resented the invaders. Soldiers trampled their crops, slaughtered their livestock, and stole their food and firewood. They mockingly referred

to the troops as the Watermelon Army due to their scavenging of Pennsylvania farms. By the time the army entered the frontier, it quickly became clear that no rebel army awaited them. As the army marched west, as many as 2,000 settlers had vanished into the backcountry, including rebel leader David Bradford. Others had received amnesty after signing loyalty oaths in September. The radical wing of the movement had collapsed. This anti-climax was not the glorious battle the gentleman volunteers had imagined, so many officers grew frustrated by the lack of action and unleashed their anger by rounding up civilians for interrogation. Two citizens were killed by trigger-happy soldiers. On November 13, soldiers roaming through western Pennsylvania dragged some 150 men from their homes and

corralled them in a muddy pen. Some of them were barely dressed. Hamilton had marched west alongside the army, and he oversaw the arrests of the remaining suspects. The government took 20 prisoners, none of whom were major players in the uprising, but Hamilton wanted to make an example out of them. The army began its march back east in mid-November, with its 20 prisoners in tow.November, with its 20 prisoners in tow. On Christmas Day, the soldiers reached Philadelphia, where they paraded the exhausted suspects through the streets in front of 20,000 cheering spectators. The prisoners were put in jail, where they remained for several months. In the end, all but two were acquitted

due to lack of witnesses and inconclusive testimonies. The two that were convicted were ultimately pardoned by Washington in a show of clemency. But the president was satisfied. He had shown the nation that rebellion would not be tolerated. The Whiskey Rebellion and its aftermath reshaped the western region. Following the uprising, settlers continued to press westward, pushing the frontier deeper into the country's interior. Ironically, the Army's presence in the fall of 1794 had proved a major boon for the western Pennsylvania economy. The government's purchase of food and whiskey to supply the troops had injected cash into the region. Farmers now had money to buy plots of land. But despite their nominal victory,

the government continued to struggle to collect the whiskey tax. Farmers and distillers had abandoned outright violence, but they still managed to resist the collection through smuggling and evasion. During the election of 1800, Thomas Jefferson pledged to end the whiskey tax to build support for his candidacy. He won, and Congress ultimately repealed the tax in 1802. The federal government had weathered unrest and emerged stronger. As a new century dawned, the country seemed headed for prosperity, driven in part by a booming market for tobacco and cotton. Still, it was one thing for white farmers in Massachusetts or Pennsylvania to rebel against the government. Jefferson even applauded it. A slave rebellion

in Virginia, just a few years later, would provoke an entirely different reaction. Next on American History Tellers, an enslaved blacksmith named Gabriel plans a rebellion to end slavery in Virginia. Hundreds of men join his plot to assault Richmond merchants, launching a conspiracy that would transform slavery in the South. From Wondery, this is American History Tellers. 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. American History Tellers is hosted, edited, and produced by me, Lindsey Graham for Airship. Sound design by Derek Behrens. This episode is written by Ellie Stanton, edited by Dorian Marina. Executive produced by Jenny Lauer Beckman and Marshall Dewey, created by Hernan Lopez for Wondery. For more than two centuries, the White House has been the stage for some of the most dramatic scenes in American history. Inspired by the hit podcast American History Tellers, Wondery and William Morrow present the new book, The Hidden History of the White House. Each chapter will bring you inside the fierce power struggles, the world-altering decisions, and shocking scandals that have shaped our nation. You'll be there when the very foundations of the White House are laid in 1792,

and you'll watch as the British burn it down in 1814. Then you'll hear the intimate conversations between FDR and Winston Churchill as they make plans to defeat Nazi forces in 1941. And you'll be in the Situation Room when President Barack Obama approves the raid to bring down the most infamous terrorist in American history. Order The Hidden History of the White House now in hardcover or digital edition, wherever you get your books.