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Ben Franklin – Runaway!

 

 

Benjamin Franklin – Bound for Philadelphia and the future – Blog #9

Dear Readers,

I have taken you, dear readers, in my musings, to the point where, at the age of seventeen, I was to break the contract of indentured servitude that my father had signed for me with my brother, James.  I was, by boarding the packet bound for New York, in violation of the law.  I was, in a split second, a runaway and subject to being caught, returned and punished by the law.

You will recall that my plan for fleeing the city of my birth involved a ruse.  I had invented a yarn that I hoped would garner sympathy for me, even though there was not a jot of veracity in it.  I had told the captain of a packet boat running from Boston to New York that I had, “gotten a young maid with child” and needed to run from the city.  The man did indeed take pity on me and I was off and aboard the boat that would take me into my future.  Many adventures awaited me.

If you are interested, I have retold the tale of that journey from Boston to New York in my Autobiography, so will not enter into more details here.  I will set the scene only by saying that the ocean voyage from Boston to New York City was a bit rougher than I would have wanted, and took longer too.  The food was pretty bad, the company not in the least interested in a young lad like myself.  I had the name of a printer in New York City, a William Bradford, who I hoped would be able to employ me and it was he upon whom my fortunes rested, or so I thought.

Ben Franklin and the “real” lessons from the Print Shop – Part 2

Benjamin Franklin and Lessons from the Print Shop Part 2, Blog #8B

To my dear, faithful readers,

I beg your indulgence for the absence in these pages of an entry last week.  This lapse was not of my doing.  My erstwhile business manager had my words in hand, but having had a bit of an accident a few days earlier, thought that this gave him leave to be remiss in his duties. Pleading pain, following a hiking accident resulting in two broken ribs,  he failed to publish my pithy prose. I am quite cross with him.  His little misfortune I find no excuse for his failure to resolve to perform his duties i.e., the publication of the following, but we shall say no more on the subject for the nonce.

You who follow these musings each week will be wondering what crime I committed
and how it affected my future.  You will recall that I had resolved to flee my older brother’s tyrannical treatment of me.  There was no solution open to me but leaving Boston, the city of my birth and youth.  And so, I convinced the captain of a packet boat running from Boston to New York that I had, “gotten a young maid with child” and needed to run from the city.  This was totally untrue but the captain took me on board for less than the normal fare.  And so I ran away and at seventeen, with only a few Dutch guilders in my pocket and a roll of spare clothing, I set out to seek employment in the colony of New York.

Ben Franklin and the “real” lessons from the Print Shop – Part 1

 

Ben Franklin and the Real Lessons from the Print Shop – Part 1

Good Citizens, all,

I indicated in my last chat with you that the subject of “Ben Franklin, Printer,” was one that had some unexpected lessons for me.  Yes, my half-brother James taught me a good deal about printing.  But he taught me something else that proved to be far more important.

James was ten years older than I, and when I was sixteen and he twenty-six, he began beating me.  He did this regularly and without, might I say, much provocation on my part.

Note from Christopher Lowell:  Well, it’s my feeling that when he was a lad, Ben was pretty arrogant and a bit full of himself.  This doesn’t excuse the beatings, but I can imagine James wanting to put Ben a bit more in his place.

I recognized that James held all the power in this relationship and I had none.  He was my half-brother but also my employer and could treat me as he wished, even if that wish involved physical abuse. He had the power, he had the strength, he had the authority, and he certainly seemed to have the will to treat me in this unjust manner whenever it pleased him to do so.

Ben Franklin, Printer’s Apprentice, Part 3 – Silence Dogood’s Success

 

Ben Franklin, Printers Apprentice, Part 3: Silence Dogood’s Success – Blog #7C

Good Citizens,

I deliberately left you hanging until today to finish the story of my letter to the “New England Courant.”  My intent was to whet your appetite for more!  I am happy to complete this little chapter for you now.
Well, in the morning (and if you are a bit lost, you should first refer to last week’s entry entitled “Ben Franklin, Printer’s Apprentice, Part 2”,) I stayed carefully in the back of the print shop as my brother and his friends opened my letter–the one signed “Silence Dogood,” and read it.  Would they throw it into the fire? Put it aside? Even enjoy it? I waited with a much more casual demeanor than my beating heart belied.

Well, to my delight, they started chuckling and then even laughing!  James declared it worthy of publication and all began to speculate as to who the real author might be.  Of course, I kept my own “silence” and said nothing. Of course, I was exhilarated.

And indeed, my “Silence Dogood” letter was published forthwith.  Readers loved it, so I wrote a second and delivered it the same way; carefully awaiting the darkness of a moonless night, then sliding the letter under the door of the print shop and running away.

The reception of this second letter mirrored that of the first.  And my literary career, such as it was at the age of sixteen, was launched. Seeing the letter in print in my brother’s newspaper and having such a positive reaction from the readers was heady stuff indeed for me.  I continued, of course, buoyed, yay, almost inebriated by this early triumph, and wrote a total of fourteen letters from “Silence” that year.  And my anonymity continued.  My brother never knew until many years later that it was I, his little brother, who was the author of those letters.  I recall quite vividly that he did not receive the news with equanimity!

Ben Franklin, Printers Apprentice, Part 2: Silence Dogood

 

Ben Franklin, Printers Apprentice, Part 2: Silence Dogood

Citizens, all,

In my last musings, I began the story of my days as a printer’s apprentice–a splendid trade for me because even young, I loved books and being around them.

As I indicated last week,  I admired good prose and often ran off a sheet or two on the press from one of my favorite authors–men like Addison, Swift, and some of the Roman orators–and I’d “play” with this writing.  For instance, I’d cut a page into sentences, put the pieces in a drawer for a few weeks, then take them out again and try to rearrange them in the “best” order.  Or I’d try putting a few lines into poetry and then back into prose without looking at the original.  It was here, in my brother’s shop, that I came to be curious as to whether I, myself, might write anything worthy of inclusion in my brother’s paper.  There was an obvious problem though; James was ten years older than I and certainly not about to print anything in his paper that he knew came from his sixteen-year old brother, the apprentice! Those of you who have older brothers will readily understand my predicament.  I solved this dilemma however.

I decided that I would disguise my identity behind the most unlikely persona I could imagine; that of a young Boston widow, whom I crowned with the absurd and patently false name of “Silence Dogood.” Silence, I decided, was a young widow with some strong opinions–opinions she wanted to share with the readers of the “New England Courant.”  Although humorous and meant to please, my letter to the editor contained a few serious ideas, too.  Not the least of these was that women should be educated and had as much to contribute to society by their brains as by their physical labor in the home.   Apparently this idea is one you have accepted in your time but it was usually ridiculed in mine.

Ben Franklin on how he became a printer

Ben Franklin writes of how he became a printer, Part 2

Dear Readers,

Note from Christopher Lowell:  Dr. Franklin will finish up this tale, but I’ll begin today by continuing from last week’s entry on just why his father thought him ill-suited to the serious contemplation required of a preacher. There is a rather delicious story that illustrates this, I think you’ll agree. 

Ben, impatient with his father’s long, drawn-out prayers over each meal, suggested, at age 10, when gazing into the cellar where the winter’s supply of meats and fish were salted away, that his father should “say Grace over the whole lot”, as it would be “…a great savings of time.” Josiah, his father, was not amused and soon thereafter decided to end his schooling and have him learn a trade instead.  But what trade?

Well, for once, dear readers, my annoying business manager, Mr. Lowell is accurate in his reporting.  I even recall the incident and particularly the look on my father’s face when I made what I thought a perfectly good suggestion. But my father decided that a trade, and not a collar, was to be my lot and, having other children to educate, took me out of the Boston Latin school and my formal education, for which I had a natural inclination. My father took me around to various coopers, silversmiths, harness makers and although I was only 10, I remember this quite well.  From those visits, I retained a respect for craftsmen who made useful things–a respect that has lasted all my life.  I also gained a pride in my roots, for we were a family of people who worked with their hands.  In fact, I’m the only “Founding Father” with such a background, which I believe you call today “blue collar.”

How Ben Franklin Almost became a Minister

How Benjamin Franklin almost became a Minister

Benjamin Franklin portrayed by Christopher Lowell

I’m delighted to be speaking with you again, Citizens.  I’m often asked to talk about my life and times as I travel around different parts of the country, which I very much enjoy doing, except for the unpleasantness of that modern horror you call “air travel.”  Now I am no stranger to difficult conditions for traveling. Each of my eight transatlantic trips was made in very cramped quarters on ships with terrible food and other conditions and each voyage took a minimum of five weeks.  And I won’t begin to go into the horrors of that bumpy carriage ride from Nantes to Paris in December 1776.  But despite the rapidity of your modern transport via your “airplanes,” the difficulties abound.

Now I guess you modern Americans would call me a “motivational speaker,” or a “keynoter,” as I’ve had the privilege of addressing many conventions and business gatherings in that capacity.  I love doing this, answering your questions in person, and talking with you about those “times that tried mens’ souls” I lived through.   But writing these reflections is enjoyable too, and takes less effort than travel!  And I love hearing from you and encourage you to ask me whatever question about my life and times is on your mind.

Ben Franklin on Fitness and Health – Blog #5B

 

Benjamin Franklin on Fitness and Health -  Blog #5B

To my faithful readers of these reflections,

Inasmuch as my last musings had to do with how some of my beliefs resulted in entries in my “Poor Richard’s Almanac,” I thought that this week, I’d give you an example.  And that example has to do with health.

I had much to say about health and what you call today “wellness.” As a boy I became interested in many aspects of maintaining a hearty body, and, as a young printer’s apprentice, was at the height of my physical powers.  Running up and down stairs many times a day with heavy lead type in trays will do that rather quickly for a lad.   Later, I remembered those stairs and advocated that older people use staircases in the winter to increase their heart rates or lift dumbbells to keep fit. I became quite interested in diet, recommending in my “Poor Richard’s Almanac” for instance that, “To lengthen thy life, lessen thy meals,” (I had trouble in following that one, actually, but it was good advice even so!), and “an apple a day keeps the doctor away.”  By the way, I’ve heard an insidious but TOTALLY FALSE rumor that I had said originally that… “an apple a day keeps the doctor away…if aimed right!”  Slanderous! I had no such animosity towards doctors; in fact, one of my closest friends, Benjamin Rush, was a doctor.  But I admit enjoying poking my physician friends with a bit of humor from time to time. “God heals, and the doctor takes the fee!”, as Poor Richard says!  But all in all, I rarely called for the doctor, for his methods often involved blood-letting and leeches, which I didn’t think all that highly of.

The Origins of Benjamin Franklin’s Favorite Quotations

Citizens, I’m proud to be able to make use of your newest ways to communicate and begin here a series of discussions about my life and times. I was told, by my 21st century business manager, Mr. Christopher Lowell of Colorado Springs, that one of the topics that seem to interest a great number of you today is those little witticisms and aphorisms that I developed for my almanac, back when I was a young businessman in Philadelphia in the early 1730’s. So I’ll begin my chats with you by telling you how that all came about.

When I was 26 and had decided to write and publish an almanac for the citizens of Philadelphia, it was for for both altruistic and selfish reasons. I wanted to live usefully, and I’ll write in the future more about this. But I also wanted to make a profit, and use my skills, such as they were, in both writing and printing to do so. I knew I had a rival in Philadelphia, whose almanac was, although to my mind boring in the extreme, well established. His name was Titan Leeds, and I mulled how my almanac could stand out and be different from his.

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