Betsy Ross: a just sew story. (History -- Struggle for Freedom).

Did Betsy Ross sew the first stars and Stripes? An unbiased look at all historical sources -- written, oral, and pictorial -- lends credence to the story

Anyone over 40 remembers learning about Betsy Ross, credited with sewing the first stars-and-stripes flag for our young nation. However, more recently, some historians have tried to unravel the story's threads.

Although Betsy did not keep a diary, many of the details of her life are beyond argument -- that she ran an upholstery shop, that her shop made flags for the U.S. government until the mid-1800s, that she eloped to marry her first husband, that she was widowed three times, and that she was a determined patriot. A careful study of the historical record -- including family traditions, friends' diaries, church records, tax records, the minutes of the Continental Congress, and other indirect sources of information -- provides a solid framework of evidence supporting the Ross claim on the first stars-and-stripes flag. With just a little imagination, one can weave a tapestry on that framework.

Late Spring, 1776

Betsy snuggled beneath her quilt, reluctant to relinquish its warmth. With her eyes closed, it was easy to pretend that dear John still lay sleeping beside her. For the moment, at least, her imagination dulled the heavy loss that had weighed on her the four months since his death. She closed her eyes and let her mind slip back in time to their dramatic elopement, just a little over two years before.

How the work day at the upholsterer's shop day had dragged, how hard it had been to concentrate on rows of stitches -- in, out, in, out -- when her every fiber focused on the pending moment of no return: "Do you, John Ross, take this woman, Betsy Griscom, to be your lawful wedded wife ... till death do you part?"

"Miss Griscom!" exclaimed a customer. "I requested a bolt of blue cloth -- not green!"

Betsy had curtsied and apologized, but on the way back to the storeroom, John had met her gaze, and smiled -- a silent promise that the day would indeed end. Yes, it had ended -- in a cold and windy November night. The Delaware crossing had been tricky in the open skiff. Soaked by the time they reached the opposite shore, she was thoroughly chilled after the five-mile walk to Huggs Tavern on the Jersey shore. But no mere chill or soaking had deterred her and John from following their hearts.

John and she had been soul mates, like in a fairy tale - a fact which neither his family nor hers could understand. Since John was not a Quaker, marrying him guaranteed a complete separation from her own staunchly Quaker family. John's family, too, had disapproved, but had come to accept their son's "ill-advised" choice. But the happiness the couple had enjoyed made any sacrifice worth it.

Betsy knew she should be up and attending to her morning chores -- but the rumble of a supply wagon and the stamp of marching feet on the cobblestones outside brought more memories. John and she had always followed the colonies' political affairs with interest, and had felt the strong pull of independence. As troubles deepened between the colonies and England, John volunteered his evening hours, when not needed at the shop, to guard militia stores. And that's where the fairy tale ended, thought Betsy - with a roaring boom of exploding gunpowder, a boom that would echo through her heart forever.

She sighed, sat up, and swung her feet onto the cold floor. Reminiscing was nice -- but it didn't buy food or sewing supplies. She had a business to run, and she'd better be up and running it. She splashed water on her face and stared back at the young woman in the mirror. At 24, she knew she was still pretty, her auburn hair framing an unlined but serious face with large blue eyes. John had always loved her eyes.... Sighing again, she tied her bonnet, and, squaring her shoulders, prepared to start another day.

Downstairs, she fixed herself a small breakfast, then carried in several buckets of water from the cistern. By 7:00, she was ready to unlock the front door. Just as she was hanging the key again from her waist, a knock sounded. Opening the door, she saw young Sarah Niles. "Oh, Mrs. Ross," said Sarah, "my father's gout is awful bad this morning. Might you fix him a remedy?" Betsy smiled with good will. "Certainly, Sarah. Tell thy father that I'll have it ready in an hour or so.

What with fixing the gout remedy, finishing shirt ruffles for several customers, starting some drapes for the Franklins, and answering several more requests for remedies for fevers, coughs, and bruises, the morning fairly flew by. She was glad she was so busy; it left little time for missing John.

At 11:00, the front door resounded with a firm knock. Betsy smiled ruefully. While she certainly didn't mind helping the neighbors with their ailments, it seemed some days that she could barely put in 10 consecutive stitches before someone else requested her healing services. If only she had as many upholstery customers! But the continuing problems with England made many colonists reluctant to spend money on "fripperies," and made it doubly difficult to obtain many of the fabrics she needed. Thank goodness Uncle James was in the importing business -- without his help, she would have only flour sacks to sew on!

Still musing, she opened the front door, fully expecting to see Sarah Niles again, or perhaps little Peter Smith. But to her open-eyed surprise, there on the porch stood General George Washington, and behind him her uncle George Ross and Robert Morris. While she saw all three on a regular basis at Christ Church, and General Washington occasionally put in an order for shirt cuffs, it was unbelievable that all three should call on her at once.

Trying to muffle her surprise, Betsy curtsied, and said, "General Washington! Won't thou and thy companions come in?" Washington strode in, seeming to fill the entire front room with his energy and sense of purpose.

"Mrs. Ross," said Washington, "you know my colleagues, Mr. Ross and Mr. Morris. We've come from Congress, to ask you to make a flag for our troops. We have a design we'd like to show you."

"Oh!" said Betsy, "Please come into the back parlor and sit down!" She led the way, showing the men to seats on the chairs she and John had made right after their marriage. Washington, always direct, wasted no time. Bringing a piece of paper from his pocket, he spread it on the table.

"Mrs. Ross," stated Washington, "this is our design. Can you make a flag from this?"

Betsy looked at the design. In the upper left corner Washington had drawn a field of blue, with a circle of thirteen white, six-pointed stars. The rest of the flag was taken up with alternating stripes of red and white.

"Well, sir," said Betsy, "I've never made a flag before--so I don't know that I can. But I will certainly try!" She studied the design more closely. The six-pointed stars would be time-consuming to make, and the design showed the flag to be square. Never afraid to speak her mind, Betsy looked up from the design at Washington.

"I like the design, sir," she began, "but may I make a few suggestions?"

"Certainly," said Washington. "I'm always open to suggestion."

"First," said Betsy, "I would suggest changing the six-pointed stars to five-pointed ones. I'm sure thou wilt want thy flag quickly, and five-pointed stars are easy to make." She reached for a small scrap of fabric, made a few folds, then drew her scissors from her waistband. A quick snip, and she unfolded the cloth to display a perfect five-pointed star to the astonished Washington.

"Amazing!" he exclaimed. "By all means, let us use five-pointed stars!"

"Also," Betsy continued, "I recommend that thou make the flag rectangular instead of square. It will stream better in the wind, and be more visible." Seeing the logic of her suggestion, Washington agreed.

"Use the changes you have suggested, and have the flag done as quickly as possible," said Washington. "Here is an advance with which to buy material, and an acquaintance of mine has a flag he can loan you to show how the stitching is done." He scribbled an address at the docks on another piece of paper. Standing up, he indicated the visit was over. Betsy showed her visitors to the door. "Thank thee, General Washington," she said as he descended the porch steps. "I pray that the flag I make will be acceptable to thee and thy companions!"

She closed the door, and leaned against it, her eyes closed. She could almost feel John's presence, his support, and his approval. The cause of liberty had been dear to him, and what better tribute could she offer than to stitch the first flag of liberty? She set her mouth determinedly, and set off for the docks to fetch the borrowed flag.

Late Spring, 1833

Betsy sat in her rocker, her smooth, unlined face peaceful. Even though her vision was failing, her memory was as sharp as ever. Behind her closed eyes, she watched a parade of faces. Her dear John, dead more than 50 years, but still her first love, his image still vivid. And then there was Joe--Captain Ashburn, he liked to be called--married to her, but also married to the sea and to the cause of liberty. In the end, the war for liberty had taken him as it had taken John. The face of her first-born, Zilla, and her last-born, Harriet - both bundles of short-lived joy. The faces of her siblings, long past, so many of them taken Home before they were even five years old. And, finally, the face of John Claypoole, her third husband. Another victim of Lady Liberty, he had held out the longest. But war injuries and a stay at Old Mill Prison had, in the end, won.

But still, Betsy thought, she had no regrets. She had five loving daughters, and had lived along, full life. She had seen the birth of a nation! No birth was without its travail. A light knock on her sitting room door broke her reverie.

"Come in," she called.

The door opened, and in bounded her grandson, William Canb, carrying his spelling book.

"Will you help me with my spelling lesson, Grandma?" asked William, a winning smile lighting his freckled face. "Please?"

"Certainly, William. I would be glad to help thee," answered Betsy. "Come and sit beside me."

William sat on the footstool. His gaze took in his grandmother. Even at eight years old, he found her unshakeable calmness comforting. And she could tell the best stories.

"Do you always carry your pincushion and scissors, Grandma?" he asked.

"Yes, dear," Betsy replied, unconsciously patting her familiar implements. "They are part of who I am--I would feel undressed without them!"

"Please tell me a story, Grandma," pleaded William. "The one about General Washington coming to ask you to make a flag!"

Betsy smiled. The spelling lesson could wait. History was important too. "Well, I was only 24, and struggling to make ends meet running the upholstery shop after my husband had died. I wasn't sure I could go on. But then, late in the spring of 1776, there came a knock on my door...."

Historical Evidence

Did Betsy Ross sew the first stars-and-stripes flag? Unfortunately, unbiased historical sources remain silent on the subject. The minutes from the Continental Congress make no mention of a flag committee visiting a seamstress. But then, they contain all sorts of anomalies: reports from committees that were never recorded as formed; committees formed but no report given; reports mentioned, but no content given.

George Washington's letters indicate he was immensely interested in flags, and thought a national flag important "for the better discipline among the troops." But those letters do not mention a specific visit to Betsy (or any other seamstress) to design one. Other flag makers submitted invoices to Congress in the late 1770s, but the record is ambivalent about what exact flags they made.

The historians who pooh-pooh the Betsy Ross story base much of their argument on the lack of evidence supporting the story, rather than on the existence of evidence contradicting the story. In doing so, they negate the worth of two important sources of history -- oral history and pictorial history. (See the sidebar for a detailed look at the pictorial evidence.)

William Canby, Betsy's grandson, told the stars-and-stripes story publicly for the first time in 1870 at a meeting of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania; he had recorded the story for family use much earlier, in 1857. Realizing that his own word would not be sufficient, Canby obtained several affidavits from Betsy's close relatives, testifying to the accuracy of the basic facts -- that General Washington visited Betsy, that he gave her a design, that she made some suggestions for changes, and that the resulting flag was accepted after being run up the flag pole of a ship down at the Delaware River docks.

These affidavits are bolstered by another family's tradition. A close friend of Betsy, Sam Wetherill, passed down to his descendants a safe containing a faded five-pointed star. According to Wetherill family legend, Betsy told Sam about Washington's visit and then showed him the original design and how she could make a five-pointed star in one snip.

Many of the anti-Betsy Ross arguments rely on the fact that Congress did not officially adopt a flag design until a year after Washington's supposed visit to Betsy Ross. This, they say, indicates that Washington could not have possibly asked Betsy to make a flag a year earlier. But why not? Congress, even today, may take a year (or longer) to act on any given subject. Consider the state of the War for Independence at the time: British troops on the verge of taking the capital; Congress fleeing to Baltimore; the lack of supplies and replacement soldiers in Washington's troops. Is it any wonder that, having found a design he liked, Washington may have just done it without waiting for official congressional approval? (It may interest readers to know that it was not until 1912 that the exact specifications of our flag were codified.)

Another point the nay-sayers like to make is that William Canby was only 11 years old when his grandmother died. "How could an 11-year old reliably remember anything?" they ask. It is certain that young scholars in the 19th century were much better trained at remembering stories and facts than are the Nintendo-saturated youth of today. Also, many men of that era were required to shoulder heavy responsibilities at an early age. After all, at only 18 years old, Alexander Hamilton was already a captain in General Washington's army.

As acclaimed historian and vexillologist Robert Morris points out in his The Truth about the Betsy Ross Story, the academic "publish or perish" environment encourages many historians to tear down traditions merely for the attention it brings -- much as a three-year old enjoys popping his sister's balloon for the sheer excitement of the loud POP and hearing her indignant wails of protest. We may never know for certain if the Betsy Ross story is accurate, although it is definitely plausible. But from what we do know of Betsy's life, one thing is certain: She serves as an example of dedication, fortitude, and personal independence that we can learn from today, almost 230 years later.

RELATED ARTICLE: The betsy ross flag in art.

Jodie Gilmore

Most of the historians who doubt the Betsy Ross story point out that Congress did not officially adopt the stars-and-stripes flag until June 1777, a year after the supposed visit between Betsy and George Washington. These historians contend that Washington could not have been using a stars-and-stripes flag before June 1777.

While it is true that there is no written record of Washington's troops using a stars-and-stripes flag prior to the Flag Resolution, there is ample evidence in another form--the historical art of the period. Three famous Revolutionary-era artists show stars-and-stripes flags flying in battles that were fought before the Flag Resolution of 1777. These artists were well known for their attention to detail: from captured Hessian flags to Washington's uniform to details of the battlefield geography. Historians who repudiate the Betsy Ross story dismiss the plainly visible stars-and-stripes flags as "artistic license." Is such a reaction reasonable? Let us look at the facts.

* Charles Willson Peale's "George Washington at the Battle of Princeton" (right): This battle took place on January 3, 1777. As an infantry captain in Washington's army, Peale was present at the battle, and was certainly qualified to paint an accurate picture of the event. Although the flag shows only a small portion of the field of stars, making it impossible to determine whether they are in a circle or some other shape (like a rectangle or diamond), the flag is certainly an early version of Old Glory. Peale painted more than one thousand portraits of famous figures in colonial America and the early Republic, in many cases providing us with our only likenesses of these individuals.

* Colonel Trumbull's "General Washington at the Battle of Trenton" (not shown): This depiction of the December 26, 1776 battle clearly shows a stars-and-stripes flag flying proudly behind General Washington. Like Peale, Trumbull was there--he was a adjutant of a Connecticut regiment during this battle, and later became an aide to Washington.

* Emanuel Leutze's "Washington Crossing the Delaware" (below right): The event portrayed in this painting occurred Christmas night, 1776. Although critics claim Leutze was a German and therefore could not have known much about the American War for Independence, the truth is that Leutze grew up on the banks of the Delaware, and was as familiar with the details of the geography, boats, and weather as anyone. This painting was finished in 1851, almost 20 years before William Canby (Betsy's grandson) made the Betsy Ross story public and six years before Canby even wrote the story down. Note the distinct stars-and-stripes flag flying in the middle of the boat.

While these paintings do not prove Betsy Ross sewed a flag, they do lend substance to the existence of a stars-and-stripes flag on American battlefields prior to the Flag Resolution of 1777.

Jodie Gilmore, a homeschooling mother of two, is a freelance writer.