By Eden Schofield, B.A. in History and Museum Studies, Christopher Newport University (’26), and Sheri Shuck-Hall, PhD, Professor of History, Christopher Newport University
In modern popular culture, the word “tavern” frequently conjures images of fantasy literature, tabletop role-playing games, or rowdy Renaissance festivals. While modern media might imply that taverns are merely spaces for fictional escapism or casual dining, their historical reality was far more consequential. More than mere watering holes, taverns stood as the vital socio-political epicenters of American community life throughout the Revolutionary era.
What exactly was a historical tavern, and how did these establishments—and their most popular commodity, alcohol—shape the birth of the United States? Far from just a recreational beverage, alcohol served as a powerful social and political lubricant of the era, drawing diverse populations together to debate radical ideas, distribute seditious literature, and pave the physical way toward independence. This exhibit explores the omnipresent nature of taverns and alcohol in colonial society and their profound impact on the American Revolution, focusing specifically on the highly politicized urban hubs of Williamsburg and the broader Chesapeake region.
Taverns 101: The Anatomy of a Chesapeake Public House
Taverns in colonial Virginia operated under strict statutory regulations and were structurally comparable to traditional English inns. Built typically of local timber or brick, they were strategically positioned at critical maritime crossroads, rural county court pockets, or central urban corridors. A prime example was Christiana Campbell’s tavern, located immediately behind the Capitol building in Williamsburg to capture the foot traffic of burgesses, lawyers, and merchants.
Architecturally, a prosperous tavern featured a multi-room layout tailored to distinct social functions. The core of the operation was the public taproom, supplemented by private dining rooms, space for tavern games (such as billiards or dice), and public assembly rooms used for balls, auctions, and political committees. Most urban taverns featured dense lodging quarters upstairs, where travelers were routinely expected to share beds with total strangers. Outbuildings were an logistical necessity; detached kitchens stood behind the main structure to mitigate fire hazards, flanked by deep root cellars, laundry rooms, and stables for horses. Proprietors who possessed sufficient land maintained private gardens to supply their kitchens with fresh produce.[1]
Today, the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation preserves this material heritage through its living history operations: Shields, Christiana Campbell’s, the King’s Arms, and the Raleigh. In the eighteenth century, securing a license to manage these bustling community hubs required substantial upfront capital, attracting ambitious entrepreneurs from the middle and gentry classes. Notably, tavern keeping was a lucrative, highly respected field open to both men and women. Henry Wetherburn, for example, successfully leased and operated several prominent venues in the capital, including the famed Raleigh Tavern. Meanwhile, female proprietors like Christiana Campbell and Jane Vobe, owner of the King’s Arms, cultivated an elite clientele, regularly hosting Virginia’s political gentry, including George Washington, during public sessions of the colonial court.[2]
While elite coffeehouses existed in the colonies, such as Charlton’s Coffeehouse, meticulously reconstructed in Colonial Williamsburg to showcase the fashionable world where merchants met to share news and transact business, taverns enjoyed far greater popularity across a wider demographic.[3] Because taverns served a more diverse public than the highly stratified coffeehouses, their political discussions were naturally more populist and volatile. Within the egalitarian space of the tavern taproom, a smallholder farmer, a wealthy lawyer, a merchant sailor, and a physician could sit at the same communal table, sharing opinions on British imperial policies while consuming the same locally brewed ales.[4]
“Tav-HER-ns”: Women as Institutional Leaders
Tavern keeping in colonial Virginia was remarkably open to resourceful, propertied women. Because local magistrates viewed the management of a public house as a matter of community safety and moral order, licenses were preferentially granted to upstanding, well-connected figures. This group included propertied vacancies, relatives of colonial officials, and women with proven managerial acumen. For married couples, the legal license was formally issued in the husband’s name under the laws of coverture, though colonial court officials tacitly assumed the wife would direct the daily hospitality and domestic operations. Magistrates in Williamsburg routinely prioritized women who possessed prior experience in commercial hospitality.[5]
Jane Vobe stands as a spectacular example of entrepreneurial success in the colonial capital. On the eve of the American Revolution, she published a prominent advertisement in the Virginia Gazette to announce her business relocation:
“I BEG Leave to acquaint my former Customers and the Publick in general, that I have just opened Tavern opposite to the Raleigh, at the Sign of The King’s Arms, being the House lately occupied by Mr. John Carter, and shall be much obliged to the Gentlemen who favour me with their Company. I am in Want of a good COOK, and would be glad to hire or purchase one. — JANE VOBE”[6]
Vobe’s establishments were constantly in high demand among the elite. An anonymous French traveler touring Virginia in April 1765 recorded Vobe’s excellent reputation in his journal:
“…thanks to mr. sprowl I got a room at mrs. vaubes tavern, where all the best people resorted.”[7]
The traveler continued by noting the prominent figures he encountered there, including Colonel William Byrd III, who was notorious for running up massive gambling debts at the card tables. Byrd was far from the only prominent Virginian to frequent Vobe’s hospitality; surviving financial ledgers show that both Thomas Jefferson and George Washington regularly paid her for lodging, stable space, and fine wines.[8]
More than a Pint a Day: The Colonial Culture of Consumption
In colonial America, alcohol was deeply woven into the fabric of everyday life. Unlike modern society, which compartmentalizes drinking, eighteenth-century colonists consumed alcohol continuously from dawn until dusk. Fermented beverages accompanied breakfast, lunch, and dinner, functioning as a dietary staple. This high rate of consumption began in infancy; families routinely fed small amounts of diluted alcoholic beverages to young children and infants. In an era before germ theory, colonists recognized that stagnant water caused fatal illnesses, while fermented drinks were demonstrably safe. Introducing children to alcohol early was also believed to build a healthy adult tolerance.
Alcohol was equally pervasive within the labor sector. Society actively encouraged both enslaved and free laborers to consume spirits on the job to maintain physical stamina, boost morale, and ease the strain of grueling agricultural or artisanal work. Alcohol was so deeply institutionalized that it frequently functioned as a standardized form of currency alongside tobacco leaf, with many frontier and urban laborers demanding a portion of their daily wages paid directly in rum or cider.[9]
The great socioeconomic equalizer within these spaces was the landmark Virginia legislation of 1705, which legally standardized the maximum prices tavern keepers could charge for alcohol and lodging. Because rates were fixed by local county magistrates, tavern owners could not artificially inflate prices to exclude poorer patrons. This statutory pricing structure prevented the rise of “elites-only” public houses based purely on the cost of consumption, turning every taproom into a cross-section of colonial society.
Consequently, establishments like Jane Vobe’s King’s Arms Tavern could host elite social events, such as fine art exhibitions, corporate meetings, and private foreign-language lessons, while remaining accessible to ordinary citizens. Similarly, Henry Wetherburn routinely held elegant dinners and civic balls for royal governors in the same rooms where ordinary travelers drank daily.[10]
Rum and Whiskey with a Side of Politics
As the imperial crisis deepened, taverns naturally transformed into the primary crucibles of revolutionary radicalism. Because these spaces brought together men of varying socioeconomic classes, they allowed ordinary citizens to feel directly involved in the political debates of the British Empire. Loosened by alcohol, patrons openly proclaimed radical anti-imperial ideas, debated constitutional rights, and organized grassroots resistance.
In the tumultuous decade preceding the outbreak of war, taverns functioned as both tactical command posts and sanctuary spaces for political subversion. In Boston, the famous Green Dragon Tavern served as the primary headquarters for the Sons of Liberty, providing a secure space where Samuel Adams and Paul Revere drafted intelligence reports and finalized the operational plans for the Boston Tea Party.
When Virginia’s royal governor, Lord Dunmore, abruptly dissolved the House of Burgesses in May 1769 to halt anti-taxation protests, the elected delegates circumvented British law by marching down the street to the Raleigh Tavern. Gathering in the Apollo Room, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Patrick Henry drafted Virginia’s non-importation associations, using the tavern as an extralegal parliament to launch a economic boycott against British imports.[11]
This political discourse was fueled by the rapid distribution of cheap, mass-produced pamphlets. Because taverns doubled as regional post offices and newsrooms where public sheets were read aloud, they became the natural distribution centers for seditious literature. Free from the stylistic and spatial constraints of traditional newspapers, anonymous political pamphlets reached thousands of literate and illiterate colonists alike through public tavern readings.
The most explosive pamphlet to circulate through these tavern spaces was Thomas Paine’s Common Sense, published in January 1776. Paine’s direct, uncompromising prose provided a clear manifesto for separation from the British Crown:
“In short, independence is the only bond that tie and keep us together. We shall then see our object, and our ears will be legally shut against the schemes of an intriguing, as well as cruel, enemy. We shall then, too, be on a proper footing to treat with Britain; for there is reason to conclude, that the pride of that court will be less hurt by treating with the American States for terms of peace, than with those, whom she denominates ‘rebellious subjects,’ for terms of accommodation. It is our delaying in that, encourages her to hope for conquest, and our backwardness tends only to prolong the war.”[12]
This revolutionary ideology, catalyzed by the communal, high-spirited atmosphere of the taproom, galvanized public sentiment, transforming localized grievances into a unified, continental demand for independence.[13]
Sustaining the Front Lines
The vital necessity of alcohol persisted onto the battlefields of the Revolutionary War. General George Washington repeatedly petitioned the Continental Congress to secure consistent liquor rations for his frontline troops, viewing spirits as an indispensable military supply required to maintain operational morale. Rations of rum or whiskey kept soldiers functioning through extreme weather conditions, and Washington ordered double rations distributed during the brutal winter encampment at Valley Forge to sustain his men’s resolve. Writing to Commissary General William Buchanan on August 20, 1777, Washington staunchly defended the army’s liquor supply, stating:
“I cannot think of authorizing, by my consent, any Experiment which can possibly injure the Troops.”[14]
Washington understood that any disruption to the promised liquid rations risked provoking mass desertion or mutiny among his battle-weary regiments.[15]
On the home front, female tavern keepers like Jane Vobe actively supported the Continental Army’s logistics while generating vital commercial revenue. Vobe provided essential lodging, fuel, and rations to entire infantry companies passing through the Williamsburg theater, including Virginia regiments departing for western campaigns in 1780. During the Yorktown campaign of 1781, Major General Baron von Steuben ran up an extensive bill of $288.60 at Vobe’s tavern for quarters, board, and large quantities of tea and spirits. That same year, Vobe provided secure quarters for Governor Thomas Nelson Jr. while he directed the mobilization of the state militia. Her commercial operations served as a critical logistical depot for the patriot war effort.[16]
“Raise a Glass to Freedom”
The taverns and spirits of early America were not mere peripheral novelties; they were foundational to the political awakening that birthed the American Republic. The egalitarian spaces of the colonial taproom provided the physical infrastructure required to spark a revolution, proving that community-centered architecture is vital to the survival of democratic ideals.
Today, this historical legacy remains accessible through public history and archeological initiatives. Living history museums like Colonial Williamsburg allow modern visitors to step into the physical spaces where the founders debated liberty, while academic research facilities like the Christopher Newport University Archaeology Lab continually excavate and analyze material artifacts to reconstruct the daily consumption habits of early Americans. As the nation celebrates the United States 250th anniversary of its founding, exploring these historic public spaces allows modern audiences to experience the sights, sounds, and spirits that shaped the birth of American liberty.
About the Author
Eden Schofield, a native of Williamsburg, graduated with a Bachelor of Arts in History and Museum Studies from Christopher Newport University. She plans to pursue a Ph.D. in Early American History, specializing in public history, material culture, and curatorial museum work.
Acknowledgements
Special thanks are extended to the Christopher Newport University Archaeology Lab and its professional partnership with Archaeological Solutions, Inc. We appreciate the guidance of Lab Manager Mary Clemons in analyzing the material culture featured in this exhibit. We also credit the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation for its continued educational partnership and support of the The Revolution is Here public history programming.
Notes
Patricia A. Gibbs, Taverns in Colonial Virginia, Colonial Williamsburg Foundation Research Report Series No. 317 (Williamsburg: Colonial Williamsburg Foundation Library, 1997), 12–24.
Sarah H. Meacham, Every Home a Distillery: Alcohol, Gender, and Technology in the Colonial Chesapeake (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2009), 65–68.
Christine Sismondo, America Walks into a Bar: A Spirited History of Taverns and Saloons, Speakeasies and Grog Shops (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 46–48.
Meacham, Every Home a Distillery, 65.
Virginia Gazette (Purdie & Dixon), February 6, 1772.
“Journal of a French Traveller in the Colonies, 1765, I,” The American Historical Review 26, no. 4 (1921): 742–743.
“Cash Accounts, November 1772,” Founders Online, National Archives; “Memorandum Books, 1768,” Founders Online, National Archives.
Eric Burns, The Spirits of America: A Social History of Alcohol (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2004), 9–15.
Gibbs, Taverns in Colonial Virginia, 45–50; Sismondo, America Walks into a Bar, 47; Mack P. Holt, ed., Alcohol: A Social and Cultural History (Oxford: Berg Publishers, 2006), 226.
Sismondo, America Walks into a Bar, 62–67.
Thomas Paine, Common Sense (Philadelphia: W. & T. Bradford, 1776), 27.
Bernard Bailyn, The Ideological Origins of the American Revolution (Cambridge: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1967), 10–13.
“From George Washington to William Buchanan, 20 August 1777,” Founders Online, National Archives.
Burns, The Spirits of America, 16.
Mary A. Stephenson, King’s Arms Tavern Historical Report, Block 9 Building 29A & B, Colonial Williamsburg Digital Library Project (Williamsburg: Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 1952), 9–10.
By Elizabeth Childress B.A. in History, Christopher Newport University, and Sheri Shuck-Hall, PhD, Professor of History at Christopher Newport University
Out of all the resources in the world, what do you think would be the most highly prized by the wealthy of the past? If you thought “salt,” you would be correct. It is remarkable to consider that a substance treated as an ordinary, everyday seasoning in modern times was once a major determinant of social and economic status. This exhibition explores the history of salt as both a vital global commodity and a force in early American society, detailing how the Revolutionary War disrupted salt distribution in the American colonies, with a specific focus on the Commonwealth of Virginia.[1]
Salt of (and Around) the Earth
In school, we are often taught that salt was important to ancient civilizations that lacked modern refrigeration. However, the extent of salt education often starts and ends with brief discussions of preserving meat. Salt’s true history is vastly more extensive, beginning thousands of years ago in prehistoric China.
One of the earliest records of an organized saltwork can be traced back to Shanxi, China, around 6000 B.C. Within this province, constant warfare erupted for control of Lake Yuncheng. The underlying catalyst for these ancient conflicts was this single mineral. In the summer, the intense sun evaporated the water from the surface of Lake Yuncheng, leaving behind vast sheets of salt crystals for whoever controlled the region to harvest, use, or sell. Early Chinese records also describe harvesting salt by boiling ocean water in clay pots—a technique adopted by Europeans thousands of years later. Production methods advanced rapidly as Chinese artisans developed iron metallurgy; boiling brine in iron pans yielded far superior salt crystals.[2]
Like the ancient Chinese, the Egyptians obtained salt through solar evaporation but also participated in extensive Mediterranean and African trade networks. More frequently, however, they chose to trade pre-salted foods, such as fish, rather than the raw mineral itself, as bulk salt was remarkably heavy and burdensome to transport across long distances.[3]
Pass the Salt
When the competition for the colonization of the Americas began, the British claimed vast territories. While the Virginia Company of London established Jamestown, other British merchants and charter companies pushed into the Caribbean. Although the British manufactured some salt domestically in places like Chester, they typically looked outward to fulfill their massive maritime demands. They traded naval protection to Portugal in exchange for salt and grew increasingly determined to secure their own supplies as they expanded into the Caribbean. British ships eventually began illegally harvesting salt from Spanish-claimed islands, ultimately focusing their primary efforts on the Turks Islands. There, British captains dropped off enslaved laborers and workers to rake up the evaporated salt from coastal pans for transport to Great Britain and the North American colonies.[4]
The working conditions on the Caribbean salt islands were brutal. Many of the enslaved laborers who harvested the mineral worked deep into the night to meet shipping quotas. Their limited rest was severely hindered by painful “salt boils”—painful skin ulcerations caused by constant contact with heavy brine. To add to these grueling conditions, their standard rations consisted largely of salt-preserved cod. This salt-preserved fish, often referred to as “slave food,” was actually traded by North American colonists to British merchants in exchange for raw salt. Because the North American colonies were part of the British imperial system, colonists relied on these mercantilist loops to secure Caribbean salt. These trade routes remained the most prominent way of obtaining salt until the political upheavals of the late 1700s.[5]
Salt During the Revolution
As the American colonists moved toward a war for independence from the British Crown, these established trade relationships collapsed. The colonists relied heavily on British imports and carried massive commercial debts because of this reliance. With the Revolution on the horizon, colonies like Massachusetts and Virginia sought global commercial independence, but breaking free from British shipping networks proved difficult. Most colonial trade was tightly regulated by British authorities, forcing colonists to find alternative ways to assert their economic autonomy prior to open warfare.[6]
By May 1776, salt shortages and price gouging had worsened, leading the Continental Congress to decry exorbitant prices and call on states to regulate them. Virginia Gazette, December 15, 1775
When the war began, resistance manifested on the home front in the form of food riots. As critical agricultural goods became expensive and scarce, citizens took to the streets. These rioters specifically targeted wealthy merchants who were accused of hoarding and price-gouging salt and other vital imported commodities.[7]
One of the primary reasons merchants hoarded salt was the naval blockade established by the British. In 1775, in response to the growing rebellion, the Royal Navy restricted access to American ports. While many imported resources grew scarce, the lack of salt was particularly detrimental. Salt was used for far more than flavoring; General George Washington’s Continental Army relied heavily on salt for medical applications, sanitization, and the massive logistical task of preserving rations for marching soldiers.[8]
The British blockade created such severe disruptions that colonial governments were forced to intervene. The Continental Congress passed emergency legislation recommending that each colony immediately establish internal salt production rather than outsourcing to neighbors. To promote self-sufficiency, Congress funded and distributed instructional guides detailing how to efficiently boil seawater. They also promised financial bounties to importers and domestic producers, triggering a rapid increase in coastal saltworks. Despite these efforts, domestic production rarely met demand, leaving most colonies with a perpetual shortage.[9]
Virginia’s Salt History
Long before Europeans arrived in the Americas, Indigenous populations maintained highly successful salt-gathering processes. The Great Buffalo Lick on the Great Kanawha River—located on the western frontier of colonial Virginia (in modern-day West Virginia)—stands as one of the earliest documented salt sources in the region. Early European explorers recorded detailed accounts of Indigenous communities gathering to harvest brine from these natural salt springs.[10]
Some of the earliest European settlers in Virginia attempted to replicate these practices. The earliest known colonial saltwork in Virginia was established on Smith Island in 1614. However, the operation was plagued by technical difficulties, failed to meet the colony’s growing demands, and was ultimately abandoned.[11]
When the British blockade began, Virginia found itself in a difficult position. Salt was an absolute necessity for daily survival, and citizens quickly felt the sting of the shortage. In one notable instance, a group of rural Virginians unable to secure salt due to wartime restrictions marched into Henrico County, attempting to use physical force to compel local authorities to redistribute stored salt reserves. As the war progressed, prices skyrocketed. The Virginia Convention—the revolutionary governing body that replaced the royal assembly—was forced to pass strict regulations against hoarding, outlining severe legal punishments for violators.
The shortage in Virginia became so critical that in 1775, the Continental Congress granted the colony special permission to import salt from foreign ports. However, wartime shipping was highly erratic, and foreign vessels could not be relied upon. This shortage placed an immense burden on the state, as Virginia was tasked with providing salted meat to Washington’s army while simultaneously trying to feed its own civilian population.[12]
In response to this crisis, Virginia made renewed attempts to establish internal saltworks. In 1776, with financial backing from the Virginia Convention, colonists attempted to construct large-scale salt pans along the Chesapeake Bay. Unfortunately, the geography worked against them. Building and maintaining heavy evaporation structures in the marshy wetlands of the Chesapeake proved far more expensive than anticipated, and the salt yield was too low to justify the cost. It was not until later years that Saltville, located in Southwest Virginia, became the region’s premier salt producer, eventually playing a massive logistical role during the American Civil War.[13]
Virginia Hams it Up
While modern Virginia is celebrated for products like apples, coal, and peanuts, its historic salt economy is most closely tied to its legendary ham industry. By the time of the American Revolution, Virginia was renowned for curing high-quality hams, exporting them across the Atlantic to Great Britain and south to Jamaica.
French military officers were first exposed to Virginia ham while assisting the Continental Army during the Revolutionary War; many documented that they preferred it to European cured meats and carried curing techniques back to France. These early methods of pork preservation gradually evolved into the world-famous culinary industry centered in Smithfield, Virginia, which remains an international leader in ham production today.[14]
Are You Worth Your Salt?
In the context of early America, salt carried a deep cultural and social meaning. Because it was scarce and essential, the presence and quality of salt on a standard dinner table served as a clear indicator of a family’s socioeconomic status.
The primary vessel for displaying this mineral was the “salt cellar.” A high-quality, decorative salt cellar was placed prominently at the head of the table by the master of the house. The volume of salt inside the cellar, and the host’s willingness to share it with guests, communicated volumes about the household’s wealth and social standing. Guests seated “above the salt” (close to the host and the salt cellar) were honored, while those seated “below the salt” occupied a lower social status.[15]
Conclusion
Salt has a monumental history for such a microscopic crystal. Its legacy ranges from a strategic resource in ancient China to a highly contested wartime commodity during the American Revolution, culminating in the mass availability we enjoy today. Reflecting on this history, we gain a deeper appreciation for an ingredient now found in every kitchen on earth. As historian Mark Kurlansky notes in Salt: A World History:
“The history of the Americas is one of constant warfare over salt. Whoever controlled salt was in power. This was true before Europeans arrived, and it continued to be the reality until after the American Civil War.”[16]
Salt has been an indispensable pillar of human civilization for thousands of years, yet its modern abundance often causes us to overlook its value. Only a few centuries ago, governments rationed these tiny grains, and communities faced civil unrest when supplies failed. Salt was a primary marker of status, power, and wealth—and even served as one of the world’s earliest forms of currency. In fact, the modern word “salary” originates from the Latin salarium, referring to the allowance given to Roman soldiers to purchase salt.
While receiving a paycheck in salt today would leave workers deeply dissatisfied, handing a modern salt shaker to an early American colonist would provide them with a fortune. For millennia, salt was an irreplaceable element of human survival, a historical truth we must remember before taking the next grain for granted.[17]
Isle of Wight County Museum
To explore Virginia’s connection to the salt trade and early American foodways firsthand, visitors are encouraged to tour the public galleries at the Isle of Wight County Museum in Smithfield, Virginia. The museum features an array of regional historical exhibits, including the period salt cellar highlighted in this exhibition, a meticulously reconstructed 20th-century general store, and the museum’s most famous artifacts: the World’s Oldest Ham (cured in 1902) and the World’s Oldest Peanut. For those unable to visit the historic tidewater region in person, the museum hosts a live, 24/7 “Ham Cam” on its official website, allowing global audiences to view these unique pieces of agricultural history online.
About the Author
Elizabeth “Lizzie” Childress will graduate from Christopher Newport University with a B.A. in History and dual minors in Museum Studies and Political Science. She developed this virtual exhibition in collaboration with Rachel Popp and the curatorial staff at the Isle of Wight County Museum. Elizabeth has previously completed professional collections and archival internships at the Poe Museum in Richmond, Virginia, and aspires to pursue a Ph.D. in History to build a career as a museum curator.
Notes
Mark Kurlansky, Salt: A World History (New York: Penguin Books, 2003), 203–205.
Ibid., 18–19.
Ibid., 41, 43–44.
Ibid., 180–181, 207–209; see also Cynthia M. Kennedy, “The Other White Gold: Salt, Slaves, the Turks and Caicos Islands, and British Colonialism,” The Historian 69, no. 2 (2007): 218–220.
Kennedy, “The Other White Gold,” 215–217.
Kurlansky, Salt: A World History, 219–220.
Barbara Clark Smith, “Food Rioters and the American Revolution,” The William and Mary Quarterly 51, no. 1 (1994): 3.
Kurlansky, Salt: A World History, 220; see also Larry G. Bowman, “The Scarcity of Salt in Virginia during the American Revolution,” The Virginia Magazine of History and Biography 77, no. 4 (1969): 466.
Kurlansky, Salt: A World History, 222; Bowman, “The Scarcity of Salt in Virginia,” 466.
Kurlansky, Salt: A World History, 249.
Curatorial File Records, Isle of Wight County Museum, Smithfield, Virginia.
Bowman, “The Scarcity of Salt in Virginia,” 464–466.
By Juliana Varsalona, B.A. in History, Christopher Newport University, Class of 2025 and Sheri Shuck-Hall, PhD, Professor of History, Christopher Newport University
Wars are won or lost as much by supply wagons as by battlefield tactics. When the American Revolutionary War erupted in 1775 at the Battles of Lexington and Concord, the newly formed Continental Congress faced a staggering challenge: it had to build a new nation and equip a brand-new army at the exact same time. For General George Washington, one of the most agonizing struggles of the war was simply finding enough food to keep his soldiers alive. Operating without established supply lines, the Continental Army routinely faced broken transportation networks, empty bank accounts, and brutal winter weather that left troops on the brink of starvation. This digital exhibit explores how early Americans struggled to feed their army, looks inside the desperate winter encampment at Valley Forge, and honors the frontline cooks and laborers who fueled the fight for American independence.[1]
The Logistics of Supply: The Commissary Department
At the start of the Revolution, the colonies lacked a centralized system to provide food or clothing. Instead, individual New England towns had to gather supplies from local family barns to feed nearby militias. Realizing this makeshift support could not sustain a long war, the Continental Congress created an official “Commissary Department” on July 19, 1775. Congress appointed a merchant named Joseph Trumbull as the first Commissary General, charging him with purchasing and distributing rations for the entire army. However, state rivalries, poor roads, and food hoarding made deliveries highly unpredictable.[2]
The system broke down completely in the summer of 1777 when Trumbull resigned after political arguments with Congress. In the Middle Department—the vital theater covering New Jersey and Pennsylvania—food distribution collapsed under the new agent, Carpenter Wharton. The job of feeding thousands of mobile men proved too immense for one person. In March 1777, a congressional committee investigated the department, found Wharton guilty of financial mismanagement, and fired him.[3]
Joseph Trumbull, “Printmakers include Asher B. Durand, Henry Bryan Hall, Albert Rosenthal and Max Rosenthal. Draughtsmen include David McNeely Stauffer,” New York Public Library‘s Digital Library, ID 6abb1cd0-c605-012f-823a-58d385a7bc34.
To rescue the supply lines, Congress split up responsibilities by region. They appointed William Buchanan as the new overseer in August 1777, who then selected Deputy Commissary Ephraim Blaine to manage food collection across Delaware, Maryland, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and parts of New York.[4] To protect soldiers from sudden food shortages, field assistants like John Chanoner and James White marched directly alongside Washington’s troops. These agents acted as a live human link between civilian farms and the fighting front.[5]
The Grand Forage of 1778: Managing the Crisis at Valley Forge
The deep cracks in the supply system collided with disaster during the winter of 1777–1778 at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania. Washington chose this location for strategic reasons: it was close enough to British-occupied Philadelphia to monitor enemy movements, yet easily defendable. But without reliable supply routes, the camp quickly turned into a humanitarian crisis. By late December, Washington warned Congress that the army was facing total collapse due to administrative failures, writing:
“Since the month of July, we have had no assistance from the Quartermaster General, and in want of assistance from this department, the Commissary General charges a great part of his deficiency.”— General George Washington, December 1777 [6]
Fearing his army would dissolve before spring, Washington ordered a massive emergency mission known to history as the Grand Forage of 1778.[7]
For nearly six weeks, Washington sent 150 to 200 of his remaining able-bodied soldiers on an expedition sweeping through southeastern Pennsylvania, southern New Jersey, Delaware, and northeastern Maryland. Their mission was to seize cattle, livestock, grain, and flour from local farms to keep the garrison alive. Letters written by supply officers at Valley Forge reveal just how desperate the situation had become. On January 20, 1778, Deputy Commissary Ephraim Blaine wrote to Washington, begging him to cut standard food portions to stretch their disappearing reserves:
“May it please your Excellency—The vast daily consumption of beef and the appearance of want of that articles induces me to present your excellency with the under mentioned queries—which if approved of may be of great service to the public—Qu. 1 would not a reduction of the rations of beef to the soldietry [sic] be a great service to the publick, suppose the ration 1 ½ flour or bread 12 ounces beef or pork, and one gill of whiskey… Flour is plenty and whiskey may be procured to supply the army, and without great assistance from the Southern and Eastern departments it will be impossible to procure beef”— Ephraim Blaine to George Washington, January 20, 1778 [8]
That same day, Blaine wrote a frantic letter to his boss, William Buchanan, warning that regional supply agents had run completely out of cash, meaning local farmers refused to sell to them:
“Sir, The vast expense in supplying the army makes the demand of cash in our department very great I made a distribution of 208 thousand dollars which was but a mere trifle among them, half my assistant purchases are not above one fourth paid they complain the want of cash is a great injury in their purchases… Indeed this is a very heavy complaint… wou’d request you to procure an order for three hundred thousand dollars and without delay forward me 250 of it, I am this moment without one shilling… those reasons with sundry others have determined me upon quitting the service…”— Ephraim Blaine to William Buchanan, January 20, 1778 [9]
NPS Photo, Hannah Till portrayed by Park Ranger Ajena C. Rogers.
The Labor of the Camp: Hannah Till and Paid Staff
While ordinary soldiers cooked their own meals in small outdoor squads, high-ranking officers relied on a dedicated staff of laborers, cooks, and artisans to run their headquarters and manage daily cooking. The life of Hannah Till provides a powerful window into the complex labor dynamics that sustained the army’s leadership.[10]
Born into bondage around 1721, Hannah Till was an enslaved woman owned by Reverend John Mason of New York. During the war, she was leased out as a cook, eventually working directly for General George Washington. However, unlike many workers at the time, Till successfully negotiated a contract during her service that allowed her to earn wages to purchase her freedom.[11]
Alongside her husband Isaac, Till managed the bustling fireplace kitchen inside the Isaac Potts House, Washington’s official headquarters at Valley Forge.[12] Working under grueling wartime conditions, Hannah and Isaac carefully saved their earnings and fully paid off their self-purchase agreements by 1780. Even after winning her liberation, Till chose to stay with Washington’s staff—and later General Lafayette’s—for the remainder of the war as a paid pastry cook, marking a remarkable personal transition from forced labor to self-determined, paid employment.[13]
Revolutionary Rations and Daily Reality
In 1775, the Continental Congress set a standard daily ration that every enlisted soldier was legally supposed to receive:
“One pound of fresh beef, or ¾ of a pound of Pork, or one pound of Salt Fish, pr diem. One pound of Bread, or Flour pr diem. Three pints of Peas, or Beans pr Week, or Vegetables equivalent… One pint of milk pr Man, pr diem, when to be had. One half pint of Rice, or one pint of Indian meal pr Man, pr Week. One quart of Spruce Beer per man, pr diem…” [14]
In reality, these items rarely reached the soldiers. By 1776, supply delays were so frequent that Washington ordered all troops to carry at least two days of provisions in their bags at all times so they wouldn’t starve during an emergency. If baked bread could not be delivered, soldiers received raw flour, which they mixed with water and baked on hot rocks over open campfires to create “firecakes.”[15]
Depiction of Continental soldiers’ daily rations, including the notorious hard bread. Photo by author, taken at the American Revolution Museum at Yorktown encampment, April 2025.
The food soldiers did manage to find was often terrible or hazardous to their health. In his famous wartime diary, Private Joseph Plumb Martin remembered the dental hazards of eating “hardtack” biscuits during the 1776 campaign:
“We marched a short distance when he halted to refresh ourselves. Whether we had any other victuals besides hard bread I do not remember. I do remember my gnawing at the bread. It was hard enough to break the teeth of a rat.”— Private Joseph Plumb Martin, 1776 [16]
Similarly, Samuel Dewees of the 11th Pennsylvania Regiment remembered how terrible nutritional deficiencies made the soldiers sick:
“…sometimes we had one biscuit and herring per day, and often neither the one nor the other…a biscuit and a herring each day, the soldiers lived until their mouths broke out with scabs, and their throats became as sore and raw as a piece of uncooked meat.”–Samuel Dewees, 11th Pennsylvania Regiment [17]
To survive these shortages, the army relied heavily on “camp followers”—the wives, mothers, and daughters of enlisted men who marched alongside the troops. These women ran makeshift outdoor kitchens, butchered animals, and managed tight ration portions to stretch every single ingredient as far as possible.[18]
Starving for Liberty
The history of the American Revolution proves that administrative endurance is just as vital to victory as battlefield strategy. The fight for independence was won not only by generals drawing maps, but by the daily labor of supply officers, regional farmers, and camp cooks who kept the army fed under near-impossible conditions. Looking at the evolution of the supply system, from the dark days of Valley Forge to an organized national rationing system, reveals the true human cost of building early America.[19]
To explore these historical artifacts and experience the reality of Revolutionary camp life firsthand, visitors are invited to view the public exhibitions and step inside the live, interactive military encampments at the Jamestown-Yorktown Foundation museums in Williamsburg and Yorktown, Virginia (https://www.jyfmuseums.org/). By walking among the tents and engaging with the period’s material history, modern audiences can truly appreciate the physical sacrifices required to lay the foundations of American liberty.[20]
Notes
[1] Joseph Boyle, My Last Shift Betwixt Us & Death: The Ephraim Blaine Letterbook 1777-1778 (Westminster, MD: Heritage Books Inc., 2016), v.
[2] Erna Risch, Supplying Washington’s Army (Washington, D.C.: Center of Military History, U.S. Army, 1981), 8–12.
[3] Journals of the Continental Congress, 1774-1789, vol. 8 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1907), 500–501.
[4] Boyle, The Ephraim Blaine Letterbook, v–ix.
[5] Ibid., xi.
[6] George Washington to the President of Congress, December 23, 1777, in The Writings of George Washington, ed. Worthington Chauncey Ford (New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1890), 6:255.
[7] Boyle, The Ephraim Blaine Letterbook, x.
[8] Ephraim Blaine to George Washington, January 20, 1778, in Boyle, The Ephraim Blaine Letterbook, 96.
[9] Ephraim Blaine to William Buchanan, January 20, 1778, in Boyle, The Ephraim Blaine Letterbook, 96–97.
[10] Ricardo A. Herrera, Feeding Washington’s Army: Surviving the Valley Forge Winter of 1778 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2023), 88–91.
[16] Joseph Plumb Martin, A Narrative of a Revolutionary Soldier: Some of the Adventures, Dangers, and Sufferings of Joseph Plumb Martin (New York: Signet Classics, 2001), 16–17.
[17] Quoted in Backus, “Getting Food in the Continental Army.”
[18] Herrera, Feeding Washington’s Army, 1–4.
[19] Risch, Supplying Washington’s Army, 28–32.
[20] On-site living history interpretation guidelines, Jamestown-Yorktown Foundation Educational Materials, https://www.jyfmuseums.org/.
Parker Watson, B.A. in History and Museum Studies, Christopher Newport University
Sheri Shuck-Hall, Ph.D. Professor of History, Christopher Newport University
Oysters are an integral part of the oceans that surround us. They are especially important in the Chesapeake Bay as they filter and clean the water, and their reefs prevent coastal erosion and protect estuaries. Oysters are essential for the health of the bay’s ecosystem and are a source of food for the people of the mid-Atlantic and beyond. We have been eating oysters for generations. In fact, today’s methods of harvesting oysters are more like those practiced by Indigenous peoples that inhabited the Chesapeake Bay area before European settlement. Featuring artifacts from the Watermen’s Museum in Yorktown and archival images from the Mariners’ Museum in Newport News, Virginia, this exhibit will explore oyster harvesting by diverse people throughout time in the Chesapeake Bay and discuss how we can help preserve the ecosystem and support sustainable practices.
Oysters are a very interesting species. When looking at how they live below the water, oysters start out as floating larvae before eventually settling down on a solid surface, such as rocks. Over time, they create oyster reefs by gathering with other oysters and grow together. Oysters around 500 years ago were mostly average size (adults can grow up to 8 inches, but it is more common for them to be from 3 to 5 inches in the Chesapeake Bay today). They are measured by the size of the shell. Indigenous people had methods of selecting and harvesting oysters by hand, mostly by men or boys, and resulted in picking more consistent sizes. Those tribes living near the Chesapeake Bay practiced sustainability as they collected oysters without harming the habitat. Four supporting factors that contributed to a sustainable oyster population were: water depth and existing technology restricted communities to harvesting close to shore; oysters may have been harvested intensively only at certain times of the year; the density of the human population was drastically lower; and human diets at the time had a mixture of marine and land-dwelling resources. The Algonquian-speaking tribes of the Chesapeake Bay ate oysters regularly, either stewed or roasted, because they were a very valuable source of protein for the Native population, and the size of the oyster meat provided plenty of food to support the villages.[1]
This image depicts Indigenous peoples using various nets to collect marine life for their diets. Oysters would have been collected by hand or by using rake-like tools seen here. Incolarum Virginiae piscandi ratio (The Method of Fishing of the Inhabitants of Virginia), Theodor de Bry after John White’s watercolor paintings, 1590. Courtesy of the Mariners’ Museum Library.
When Europeans arrived in North America, they had limited knowledge of what the land was like or what kind of food supply that this new world offered. When they met Indigenous peoples, they eventually learned how to farm fruits and vegetables and hunt and fish the wildlife, including the Chesapeake Bay oyster. Realizing that oysters were not only an excellent food source but also a way to earn money, colonists used tools to harvest them more easily. Oyster tongs were widely used from the 18th century onward; they had long pieces of wood with metal clamps at the end to scrape the top layer from the reef and pull up bunches of oysters rather than picking them by hand. Oysters quickly became a popular protein in mid-Atlantic diets, especially as oyster tongers competed in a growing market.[2]
Different types of tongs used in the American oyster industry. Image reproduced from von BrantOyster tongs were an easy way to gather oysters quickly and used for generations; the men who used this tool were called oyster tongers. Image from The Daily Press, 1961, Labeled: Delmas Haddaway (left) and Chester (right) use huge rake like thongs to get oysters from Choptank River on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. P0001.001/01-#P1694. Courtesy of the Mariners’ Museum Library.
Boom Time
In the 19th and 20th centuries, oyster harvesting experienced a boom. A new technology, called the dredge, provided quicker and more efficient extraction of oysters from the reefs, especially if used with motorized boats. This piece of equipment would be thrown over the back of a boat and towed while moving. Its purpose was to scrape the top of the oyster reefs and collect large quantities of oysters. However, in doing so, dredges scraped and destroyed the floor of the Chesapeake Bay, which disrupted the ecosystem for the oyster and other organisms that dwelled on the ocean floor. Many communities of oyster tongers, who represented more traditional methods of oyster harvesting, resisted dredging.[3]
Photo by author of a fishing dredge from the Watermen’s Museum in Yorktown, Virginia.
Watermen who continued to use tongs to harvest oysters in the second half of the 19th century were typically smaller and owner-operated compared to their highly industrialized counterparts. The new dredging system outstripped the oyster yield of more traditional tongers. In 1849, watermen harvested 178,000 bushels of oysters; ten years later it jumped to 2.3 million bushels. By 1865, oyster harvesting in Virginia increased to 2 million bushels per year, then doubled to 4 million by 1871. Consequently, the period between 1860 and 1920 saw a massive expansion of the Chesapeake Bay oyster fishery and the introduction of industrialized harvesting that eventually depleted oysters in the bay.[4]
Picture of oyster dredging in the Chesapeake Bay, Maryland. Inscription: “Capt. Wade Muirphy of Tilghman, Md. operating a dredge, legal only during the period from November 1 to March 15, a shorten season than allowed tong men.” AP News features Photo. G- Daily Press, 1961, P0001.001/01-#P1693. Courtesy of the Mariners’ Museum Library.
Increased oyster harvesting from dredging in the 19th and 20th centuries also came with a new way for oysters to be sold to consumers. In the early 1800s canning revolutionized food preservation. Harvested oysters need to be eaten quickly (up to 2 days on ice for safety). However, canned oysters allowed greater commercial distribution beyond the coast and a long shelf life (albeit sacrificing the fresh flavor). The process was simple: canners kept them on ice until they were heated 5 to 7 minutes at 400 degrees. Then, they shucked the oysters once cooled and placed the meat into cans or jars with hot water and salt before sealed and sterilized, preserving it on average for a year. The hub of the Chesapeake Bay commercial oyster canning industry was in Baltimore, Maryland by Edward Wright from Kent County on the Eastern Shore in 1831. Oyster canning improved throughout the years, especially during the 1860s after the Civil War. Canners experimented with new methods that preserved the oysters more efficiently to transport them for sale to different states and countries.[5]
An example of the expanding market for oysters with the introduction of canning. Eldridge Cook, mentored by T.C. Walker and a graduate of the Gloucester Training School, was the owner of Cook’s Seafood Company, a top national seafood processing plant and supplier by the 1950s. He operated the thriving company that distributed oysters like these around the world for over 70 years until 2010. Photo by author. Courtesy of the Watermen’s Museum in Yorktown, Virginia.
How Can We Help Preserve Oyster Reefs?
In the late 1800s, the United States experienced a nationwide conservation movement to preserve its natural resources, including the Chesapeake Bay. Established in 1875, the Virginia Fish Commission (now known as the Virginia Marine Resources Commission) began to push legislation that placed greater restrictions on oyster harvesting. In 1929, the commission appointed oyster inspectors and started to plant shells to rebuild oyster habitats and counter the overharvesting of past decades. Today there are alternative ways to harvest oysters responsibly in the Chesapeake Bay. As dredging is highly destructive, many have opted to use more environmentally friendly cages that help sustain the bay oysters and keep the ecosystem healthy. People now farm oysters by placing cages in the water where the oysters create a “reef” as they grow and flourish with access to natural food sources, like algae, then flip the cages regularly. Below are images of the different types of cages that are common today, including the bottom cage, the Taylor float, and the downunder. These are used all throughout the bay to keep the oyster population alive and healthy, but most importantly, sustain the oyster population.[6]
The most common cage is the bottom cage that is placed on the bottom of the sea floor and can hold up to 300 market-sized oysters. Photo by author of a bottom cage from the Watermen’s Museum in Yorktown, Virginia.The Taylor float drifts on the surface. This type is the base cage for many oyster farms in the bay and in the United States. It holds up to 400 market-size oysters; once full this cage is heavy to lift, so it has an optional lid to help get the oysters out more easily and efficiently. Photo by author of a Taylor float from the Watermen’s Museum in Yorktown, Virginia.A downunder float is typically tied to a dock with rope and hung just under the water level. It can hold up to 150 market-sized oysters and is used for growing and harvesting. The cage got its name because it originated in Australia. Photo by author of a downunder from the Watermen’s Museum in Yorktown, Virginia.
The Chesapeake Bay oyster has been a steadily harvested and eaten seafood for many generations. From the Indigenous peoples’ careful hand-selection harvesting to modern-day sustainable oyster farming, we have learned to extract oysters safely and efficiently while protecting the ecosystem. As of 2020, the number of market-size oysters (larger than three inches) was about 400 million compared to 2018 when it was 300 million. These are significant improvements and proves that with community action and environmental education, positive change happens.[7] We must be careful to protect the Chesapeake Bay oyster so that they can continue to thrive. To learn more about oysters and watermen, visit the Watermen’s Museum in historic Yorktown and the Mariners’ Museum in Newport News, Virginia. Here you will find exhibits with interesting artifacts, marine archaeology, and interactive displays and programs tracing the history of our diverse coast and its people. For more information conservation and how you can help protect the bay, see the Chesapeake Bay Foundation at Homepage – Chesapeake Bay Foundation (cbf.org).
Acknowledgements
This exhibit was a service-learning project with the Watermen’s Museum in Yorktown and the Mariners’ Museum in Newport News in partnership with the Public History Center and the Department of History at Christopher Newport University. We would like to give special thanks to Mike Steen, the Director of Education at Watermen’s, for assisting Parker with this exhibit, providing his expertise on the Chesapeake Bay, and acting as a peer reviewer. We would also like to thank the Mariners’ Museum Library for access to their extensive digital collection of photographs on watermen.
About the Author
Parker Watson graduated from Christopher Newport University with a B.A. in history and a minor in museum studies, graduating with Service Distinction. During his time at CNU, Parker completed an internship with Great Bridge Battlefield and Waterways Park in Chesapeake. He is currently working as a museum technician at the Hampton University Museum while pursuing a MA in museum studies.
[2] Juliana M. Harding, Roger Mann, and Melissa J. Southworth, “Shell Length-at-age Relationships in James River, Virginia, Oysters (Crassostrea virginica) Collected Four Centuries Apart,” Journal of Shellfish Research 27(5), (1 December 2008), 1109-1115. https://doi.org/10.2983/0730-8000-27.5.1109
[3] Bradford Botwick and Debra A. McClane, “Landscapes of Resistance: A View of the Nineteenth-Century Chesapeake Bay Oyster Fishery.” Historical Archaeology 39, no. 3 (2005): 94–112.
[5] William S. Dudley, Maritime Maryland: A History (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2010,), 110-111; N. D. Jarvis, “Curing and Canning of Fishery Products: A History.” Marine Fisheries Review 50, no. 4 (1988): 180-185; “Selecting, Preparing and Canning Meat.” National Center for Home Food Preservation | How Do I? Can Meats. Accessed April 7, 2023. https://nchfp.uga.edu/how/can_05/oysters.html.
