In the first year of the American Revolutionary War during the colonies’ campaign for independence, one former slave fights so valiantly that more than a dozen continental officers recommend he be officially recognized for his bravery and loyalty to their cause…
A biting chill permeated the moist morning air, unceasingly cutting through thick clothing, wet from the damp of the dew, worn by the nearly thousand patriots who shivered uncontrollably, gripped with interminable fear, as they watched from their concealed positions the Royal Army march confidently along the mud-riddled, winding road.
Very few of them had any military experience at all. Most had never even so much as pointed a weapon at another man. And, the tiny percentage who had fought in a war were staring straight at their former comrades in arms – some of them perhaps vaguely recognizable. Or, at least it seemed that way, due to their deep red uniforms, strikingly similar stoic expressions, clean-shaven faces, almost identical hair, and precisely coordinated lock-step advance.
The upcoming confrontation had arrived after years of failed negotiation, thinly veiled threats, and outright coercive subjugation tactics. At this point, no amount of protest mattered and the only thing that would be emphatically understood was armed combat – a revolution for total independence, against creeping, unmitigated tyranny.
Among the separatists was a strapping 28-year-old man, recently married with a newborn child at home. In those respects, a family man yearning for freedom, he was no different than any other patriot in the fields and woods that day. What set him apart was his past – only six years ago, he was a slave who purchased his freedom for 27 pounds – the average annual wage for a working man at the time.
Now, Salem Poor was among another minority, one seeking its sovereignty from the English Empire. He would be among the relatively small percentage of colonists who desired self-agency. But, far more of his provincial brethren preferred the status quo. In fact, there were substantially more emigrant frontiersmen who would don the same red coats to fight on behalf of King George than patriot colonists seeking independence. But, that didn’t matter to Salem Poor. He understood the only real path to a better future lay in his generation’s hands and he would see the fight to the end.
It was early April of 1775 and the British Royal Army was under strict orders to quash any percolating resistance to the Empire and undermine all who opposed submission. For the Crown, anything less than complete compliance was unacceptable. King George issued the command after being consistently frustrated by the colonists’ who protested paying taxes. To him, it was nothing less than an insult and a possible existential threat to the legitimacy of the throne.
The Seven Years or French and Indian War had ended just over twelve years ago in February of 1763. The end of that particular conflict gave Great Britain almost free rein over the New World, forcing the French to give up their quest for dominance on the northern continent across the pond, situated below the Great White North, where it had numerous settlements.
Then, only two years later, the British Crown passed the Stamp Act in March of 1765, followed by an occupation of Boston in October in 1768, which led to the Boston Massacre in March 1770. But, resistance to overreach grew, and colonists pushed back in the Pine Tree Riot in April of 1772, then the Boston Tea Party in December of 1773. British Parliament countered with the Intolerable Acts in March through June in 1774. By September of the same year, the First Continental Congress convened and a war of independence began to brew.
Multiple negotiations broke down between the two sides over the next year and some colonists insisted on fielding an army of their own. Rallying the cry for freedom from the Crown, Virginian Patrick Henry declared in March 1775, “I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!”
The very next month, the first battles of the American War for Independence would break out and Salem Poor was there fighting in one of the earliest skirmishes. What he did during those conflicts would make him a hero, not only in the minds of his contemporaries but a true historical figure. And, that was very different from where he began his life.
Born into slavery in Andover, Massachusetts in 1747 on a farm owned by John and Rebecca Poor, Salem bought his freedom in 1769 at 22 years old. About two years later, he married Nancy Parker in 1771. She was a free mulatto woman with both Native American and African American ancestry who worked as a maidservant to Captain James Parker. They had a son named Jonas shortly thereafter, and approximately five years later, their boy was baptized in September 1776. But, prior to that momentous occasion, Salem would join up with the continental independence cause.
“You belong here, with your family!”
“I have to go in order to protect this family! Many more will join this inevitable, bloody fight and give their lives. I can do no less!”
“But, Salem, there isn’t even a war yet! You can’t up and leave for something that hasn’t happened. We need you here to help provide. I need you here, so I can take care of our son!”
“Nancy, if I don’t go now, the war will come to us! You mark my words – the war will come…right here…to us! I can’t just stand by and hope for the differences to be resolved between the colonies and the Crown. King George will never give up his grip so long as he can tighten it without consequence.”
“We don’t even know if there will be a new nation. I mean, we can’t even get the colonies to agree on the same things. How is it they’ll all band together to fight off a vastly superior army?”
Nancy Poor’s observation was indeed prescient. The still yet to unfold battles of Lexington and Concord were not a battle cry for all the colonies. In fact, many of the colonial settlements of the time would consider the two initial conflicts to be a civil war. It wouldn’t be until later that some of the colonies (but, not all), would agree to form a confederation for freedom from the Crown and then go back to being autonomous territories – not a unified republic. The latter wouldn’t happen for some time to come.
“Regardless, Nancy, it’s my duty to protect my family and my land. King George didn’t intervene when I was a slave. And now, he seeks to subjugate every single person living in the colonies. I simply will not give up my hard-earned freedom!”
“Then, go dear. Go with my blessing! But, come back to us as soon as you can!”
Salem retrieved his rifle and ammunition from their bedroom, then checked over his provisions before saddling up the family horse – an aged equine who spent most of its time foraging in the fields when it wasn’t pulling a plow. After he gave everything a thorough once over again, he kissed his wife and son, mounted, and started off toward Concord, about twenty miles away. With any luck, he’d arrive before sundown. But, if the weather didn’t cooperate, the journey would take up to two or more days. Unfortunately, he’d be held up by one heavy rainstorm, slowing his arrival by twenty-four hours. When he finally got to town, he immediately sought out the local minutemen.
Poor tied his horse to a post and dismounted when he found the nearest (and only) pub, then went inside for a meal. “Been on the trail for the last two days. Just came from Andover. I’d sure appreciate a hot meal, ma’am! And, I’ll need a place to stay, if you can recommend somewhere…name is Salem, Salem Poor.”
“Well, Mr. Poor, welcome to Concord! I’m Mary. I’ll fetch you some supper and ale. While you eat, I’ll talk to the proprietor – we have a few rooms available right here. I believe at least one of them is unoccupied.”
As he ate, Salem could feel many eyes upon him. Although the north didn’t have nearly the same black population and many were free men, not everyone had seen such a sight. Curious, one of the patrons approached, asking, “What brings you here?”
“I’m here to take up patriot arms.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, sir…yes sir, it is.”
“Well, we don’t have very many colored folks in our ranks. I’m John Parker, Captain John Parker. I’m the leader of the Concord Minutemen. Tell me, you have any military experience, mister…uh…mister…”
“Salem Poor, sir. Pleased to meet you, Captain Parker. No, can’t say I have any military experience. But, I’m a pretty good shot. And, I’m here to shoot me some redcoats!”
“All right, you finish your meal there and I’ll get you acquainted.”
A moment later, Mary returned, with a dour look on her face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Poor, but the proprietor told me you can’t stay here. He doesn’t want any colored folks in his rooms.”
Before Salem could say a word, Captain Parker intervened.
“You tell him that I said it’s ‘okay’ and if he has a problem with that, well then, he can take it up directly with me!”
“Yes, right away, Captain Parker!”
“Now, as I said before, you finish up your supper and I’ll introduce you to some of your new colleagues. I’m happy to have you fight alongside us. This is going to be a huge uphill battle. Frankly, I’m not sure we can even win. But, we owe it to ourselves, to our families, and to future generations to give it our very best!”
Captain John Parker was one of the most respected men in the area. He served with distinction in the French and Indian War, where he learned guerrilla tactical warfare. Now, in April 1775, he was nearly twice Salem Poor’s age, forty-five, a married man, and the father of seven children. Though more experienced individuals who held higher ranks during the Seven Years’ War lived in town, Parker was democratically chosen among his peers due to his calm demeanor and sound judgment.
And, those were two very desirable traits, especially given the circumstances of the time. Most of the combatants were well over thirty and many did have prior war-fighting experience. However, their current contingent was vastly different from the Royal Army, which always followed the standards of late 18th-century military procedure. They formed large, orderly rows, marched in complete unison, and fired at the enemy in formation, before falling back to reload.
By contrast, the minutemen and various militia that would form during the course of the revolution, used guerrilla maneuvers, tactics that were considered by the British to be ungentlemen-like and therefore, contemptuous and dishonorable. But, hiding behind trees, barns, houses, under tall grass, and targeting officers at the beginning of any encounter was highly effective, particularly given the fact these patriot groups were severely unnumbered – often by the thousands.
Once Salem Poor finished his meal, Captain Parker took him to meet some of the other commanders and leaders of the local minutemen while they discussed their upcoming strategy to stop the Royal Army from confiscating all the town’s arms. A preparation that would require precisely coordinated efforts, with no room for error.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen! This is Mr. Salem Poor. He’s come to join the fight against tyranny! Mr. Poor, allow me to introduce you to our commanders and leaders – they’d be defending Lexington and Concord. This here is James Barrett and John Buttrick. Over there is John Robinson and William Heath. And, last but certainly not least, Joseph Warren and Isaac Davis.”
“Pleased to meet you all! I’ve traveled from Andover to take up arms against King George…got a new wife and brand new baby at home.”
“All right now, let’s get to it. Mr. Poor, I’ll have you team up with Joseph Warren and Isaac Davis – they’ll be positioned by the North Bridge. James Barrett and John Buttrick will take the road into town and John Robinson and William Heath, stay hidden with your men until a prime opportunity presents itself – you’ll know when it happens – just trust your instincts. I will join the Lexington minutemen and lead the resistance when the redcoats arrive tomorrow.”
Captain John Parker was fully aware of the magnitude of the situation. Reconnaissance reports put the redcoats’ numbers at almost one thousand in troop strength. But, they had to go through Lexington first. Hopefully, the minutemen and militia would be able to mount such a show of strength, it would force the Royal force to retreat. However, if the Empire’s soldiers took the city, that would put the colonists of Concord at a severe disadvantage.
Captain Parker also didn’t suffer from any departure from reality. He knew the odds were greatly stacked against the continentals – even many of his neighbors refused to stand up to the Crown. What’s more, the majority of his fellow settlers would ultimately take up arms against the cause for freedom and those who wouldn’t fight would give up valuable information to His Majesty’s troops. Those tests of character and loyalty were just hours away now, not long after dawn.
The following day broke with an eerie, unsettling silence. Salem Poor awakened earlier than usual when he heard a commotion in the pub outside his quarters. A dispatch rider explained that the redcoats were on the road to Lexington, and their numbers greatly outnumbered the minutemen who awaited. The rider explained he’d personally seen hundreds of British troops on the road from Boston and Parker’s men totaled a tad over eighty.
The good Captain’s worst fears were realized early that cold April day. A strong rainstorm had come through the night before, chilling the air and soaking the roads and fields – both of which became mud pits. But, this didn’t deter the Royal Army whatsoever. Nearly three hundred reached Lexington, with several hundred more marching from Boston. Meanwhile, John Parker and his small contingent watched and waited for the redcoats to arrive. As the British troops came into the town, the militia, already strategically positioned, warned the Royal soldiers not to advance any further. Major John Pitcairn, who led the Empire’s forces, cautioned his men to keep their calm while delivering an ultimatum to the armed colonists, “We are here to confiscate your weapons and ammunition. There’s no need for bloodshed – give them up and we’ll be on our way!”
“Major, we must respectfully decline your request. Our arms and ammunition are not the property of the Crown!”
The tension grew between the sides, but neither showed any signs of capitulation. Both were determined to do their duty – clutching their rifles tightly, attempting to stare down one another. Major Pitcairn gave his men the signal to advance and continue into the city, alarming the inexperienced minutemen. A shot suddenly rang out and the Royal troops immediately attacked, killing some of the colonials, forcing the rest to retreat.
As the militia fled, the British troops searched in vain for weapons and ammunition. They eventually regrouped and began their march toward Concord, confident they’d easily quash any resistance they encountered. After all, if this was indicative of the colonials’ willingness to fight, an occupation of the next town a mere six to seven miles away would be fairly uneventful. What they experienced when they first arrived on the outskirts of the city seemed to solidify their expectations.
When the British forces reached Concord, there was practically no one in sight. And, with several hundred more of His Majesty’s reinforcements on the way from Boston, Major Pitcairn would also soon be joined by Colonel Francis Smith, his superior.
“Major, congratulations! My scout informs me that you easily dispatched the rebel forces in Lexington and seized their ammunition. I expect that we will encounter little Resistance here in Concord, as well.”
“Thank you, Colonel Smith, though my men deserve the credit. They acted with the utmost sense of duty. It seems our enemy is not so bold. I am confident when we go into this town, our mission will be a short one.”
“For the sake of the Empire, the Crown, and even these misguided rebels, I hope and pray you are right, Major Pitcairn. It’s despicable to think that our brethren would dishonor their heritage in such a petulant way! Now, let’s carry out our duty and confiscate the rebel weapons and ammunition from Concord. Of course, any loyalists will be given full quarter and an invitation to fight for His Majesty.”
“Yes, Colonel Smith, I shall pass the orders along and we’ll assemble soon. May I ask for the honor of leading the men into the town? If Lexington is any indication of what is to come, it’s doubtful there will be any bloodshed.”
The Colonel granted his Major’s wish, allowing the subordinate officer to lead the Royal troops into the city of Concord. Once mustered, the Crown’s army marched toward the town, but it was slow going, made difficult by the inclement weather that hit the day before.
The road was sloshy, muddy, and riddled with puddles, causing the British to abandon their small cannons, heavy, high-caliber guns mounted on carriages brought along to make an indelible impression that would teach the upstart colonials a lesson they’d never forget. But, the weather wouldn’t be the only obstacle the redcoats would face that day.
As the Royal army slowly traversed the soggy road from Lexington to Concord, a patriot advance scout took a quick reconnaissance and hurried back with a count to the commanders of the minutemen, who immediately passed the word for every available man to take up arms. One by one, man after man joined the standing militia, swelling their ranks by greater and greater numbers, which would grow to vastly surpass the oncoming invaders, steadily marching on an exhausting two-plus hour journey. An overtaxing enemy-free unobstructed trek that would lead them right into an unsuspecting false sense of security.
It was late in the day on April 19, 1775. As the British soldiers approached the outskirts of Concord, barely a person was in sight. Meanwhile, the colonials and their minutemen and militia forces observed every step from the opposite, obscured side of the North Bridge. As the armed colonists patiently waited, more individuals took concealed positions, virtually encircling the nearing force, which numbered about one thousand – measurably significantly less than half of the patriots.
While their resistance swelled, the continental commanders and leaders made the decision to pass the word for a sizable contingent to cross the North Bridge to meet the redcoats in a show of resolve and strength.
Suddenly, at a ridge leading into the town, the Royal Army was met by hundreds of farmer-soldiers. The standoff didn’t last long. When the initial invading soldiers reached Concord Ridge, a very brief but successful scrimmage ensued, forcing the first wave of redcoats to turn back toward Boston. Immediately after, thousands of colonists who previously gathered along the route, hiding behind trees, barns, and houses, fired directly at the retreating Royal army who realized their predicament too late, as the safety of Boston was still so far away and they would be exposed the entire time – so, they had no choice but to fight their way out. But, the colonists continued to fight, and as they attacked and harassed the retreating forces, Salem Poor led a small team right into the heart of the battle.
As gunshots rang out and men from both sides were struck, the former slave turned freedom fighter rallied his troops, yelling, “Stand your ground! Stand your ground!” Pointing toward the enemy with the tip of his Horseman’s saber. He ordered an outright assault, shouting, “If they’ve come for blood, we’ll make them bleed!”
With that declaration, Poor charged head-on right into the thick of the British regulars, slicing his way through cloth and skin, firing his Holster pistol, striking none other than British Lieutenant Colonel James Abercrombie right in the abdomen, inflicting an excruciatingly painful and fatal wound. Salem would continue to engage in hand-to-hand combat, helping to force the enemy into a second retreat.
When their commanders witnessed the hasty withdrawal, they instantly ordered more than nine hundred Royal reinforcement troops joined the battle. But, this only brought their strength up to about 2,000 – while the colonists’ number now stood around 3,000, to 4,000. And, they all descended upon the invaders, including those who stayed to fight and the forces who followed their commanders in a retreat back to Boston.
Salem regrouped his own men, interrupting the British reformation, causing their ranks to pull back yet again. But, the continentals were noticeably short on munitions, running out of gunpowder and lead musket balls, forcing them to steadily draw back, allowing the Royal forces to take advantage, although the effort would fall substantially short.
Once the combat ceased, the British returned to Boston, with 174 wounded and 73 left dead on the battlefield and along the road back from Concord. Meanwhile, the colonials lost 49 and suffered just 41 wounded.
Salem Poor subsequently joined the colonial militia surrounding Boston after the Battle of Concord. Six months later, fourteen militia officers submitted a petition to the General Court of Massachusetts, commending Poor’s bravery.
By June 1775, Salem Poor, the colonial armies, and supporting militia groups built up huge earthen works on the hills of Charlestown, Massachusetts, daring the King’s army to drive them out.
The Royal forces began their campaign by burning much of the city on June 17th and then attacking the fortifications. The Battle of Bunker Hill ensued and even though the redcoats advanced twice, the continental forces drove the British back in both attempts. Salem Poor played another important role during the historic engagement.
In the winter of 1777, Poor encamped at Valley Forge and went on to serve until 1780, fighting in the Battles of Monmouth and Saratoga. After his retirement from the military, he fell on hard times residing in an almshouse for a short while. Salem Poor died in 1802 in Boston and is believed to be buried in Copps Hill cemetery.
In 1975, the US Postal Service issued a special edition stamp commemorating Poor’s role in the Revolutionary War.
Although there are several prominent names that remain celebrated and synonymous with the American Revolution, countless more individuals made huge contributions and sacrifices, and Salem Poor was one of the latter.
