Before the Northway, you would gain access to Clifton Park from the south by crossing the Mohawk River at either the Route 9 bridge to Crescent, or the Route 146 bridge to Rexford. These bridges existed since the early nineteenth century. Between these two bridges there were three ferries, Dunsbach Ferry, Forts Ferry, and Vischer Ferry. The most logical place for another bridge was at Vischer Ferry. This would provide direct access into the heart of Clifton Park.

The residents of Clifton Park wanted a bridge at Vischer Ferry ever since the Town was formed in 1828. An act to incorporate the Vischer’s Ferry Bridge Company was passed by the State legislature on April 19, 1828. Within two years a good and substantial bridge was to be constructed across the Mohawk River at some point within two hundred and fifty yards of Vischer’s Ferry. The width of the bridge was to be not less than twenty feet and was to be kept in good condition by the bridge Company.

The Act to incorporate the Vischer’s Ferry Bridge Company gave the company three years to erect the bridge, otherwise the corporation created by the Act would be dissolved. Evidently not enough investors could be found, as this bridge was never constructed.

The idea of having a bridge at Vischer Ferry did not die. In February 1900 engineers were busy taking soundings for the abutments of a proposed new bridge across the Mohawk at Vischer Ferry. This bridge, which was indeed erected, was 790 feet long, and cost $31,845, financed by local monies. 

In the spring of 1901, two sections of the bridge went out with the ice floods, and it was decided to raise the bridge some three feet. However, in 1902 the spring floods carried the entire bridge away before the job was completed. The total return on the investment was a toll collection of $1,300.

There was someone on the bridge when it went down. As the bridge began to vibrate and shake, he reversed his direction and made it to safety, just as the bridge collapsed into the river. A local newspaper gives his eye witness account.

The residents of Clifton Park petitioned the State legislature for a new bridge, and bills were introduced every year from 1910 to 1928 for the creation of such a bridge at a cost ranging from $75,000 to $370,000.

In a 1916 petition in support of the Vischer Ferry Bridge, the Town of Clifton Park indicated that the town and adjoining communities had suffered serious injury and hardship since the destruction of the bridge. “We have been deprived of all means of direct and convenient intercourse with the commercial centers to which we formerly carried our produce; the value of our property has been seriously depreciated, and we have suffered in respects too numerous to mention by reason of the failure of the state to erect a bridge thus far.”

The Town argued that Vischer Ferry is about halfway between Rexford and Crescent, and the natural converging point of all highways running through the Town of Clifton Park. Thus, it was a logical location for a proposed bridge. The ferry currently at that location could only be operated about seven months out of the year. The 1916 memorandum also indicated that a bridge would assist area fruit growers by placing them in direct communication over improved highways with Albany, Schenectady, Troy, Cohoes, and Watervliet.

In 1910 the bridge bill was passed by the Assembly but failed the Senate. The bills for 1912-1913 passed both houses but were vetoed by the Governor, and in 1915 it only passed the Assembly.

Even after the Canal Board investigated and determined that Vischer Ferry was the most advantageous location for the bridge, new bills introduced between 1918 and 1926 either died in committee or only passed one house.

In 1927 and 1928 both Saratoga County and Schenectady County each appropriated funds for a bridge, but the state was not forthcoming with the remainder. By 1929 a new bridge bill indicated that the bridge at Vischer Ferry would be erected wholly at the cost of the State. This change from previous legislation dividing the expense between the State and counties of Schenectady and Saratoga was a result of Governor Roosevelt’s endorsement of a plan to convert old canal lands on the north side of the river into a public park.

The question of a bridge at Vischer Ferry seems to have finally died about 1934. It appears that Saratoga County was to benefit more than Schenectady County and when additional funding from Schenectady County was sought, it was not forthcoming. Also, additional legislation for the bridge never seemed to get out of Committee.

Had the bridge been erected, the character of Clifton Park would have been quite different. Development would have occurred much earlier and in different areas from the post Northway boom. Those of us who now reside in Vischer Ferry would probably have had an address of Vischer Ferry Estates South, and the Greek Revival architecture and canal history that we are so familiar with would truly be memories of the past.

The small rural cemetery that sits along Clark Road in Providence silently beckoned me to stop and visit as it came into view one Autumn morning. I was happy to oblige, hoping to be rewarded with a glimpse of insight from these final reminders that mark the end of the life of those who, like us, also once smelled the fragrance of autumn and felt the warmth of the midday sun.

One stone, which stands out by the bright circular spot on the upper left, immediately caught my eye. When I got closer, I read that it marked the grave of lifelong Providence resident and farmer Jeremiah Clark. Though 177 years have passed since he was laid to rest, on the stone can still be read the details of his life: a birth on March 29, 1783, and a death 61 years, 3 months, and 19 days later, on July 18, 1844.

On the lower half of the stone there is this epitaph, well-worn from the passage of time and now barely readable:

Could Friends have stayed the dart of death, While watching by thy side; Could Love recall life’s fleeting breath, Thou would’st not sure have died. Affection, powerless to save, Could only weep above thy grave.

Jeremiah Clark was the son of William V. Clark, one of the early residents of the town of Providence, Saratoga County. His father had left Dutchess County, New York in 1790 and settled on a farm along what is now Clark Road just west of the cemetery that carries the family name. By 1807, his son, 24-year-old Jeremiah was married to nineteen-year-old Polly Van Ness, and the first of their four children had been born. Two years later Jeremiah purchased from his older brother, Benedict Arnold Clark, one-half interest in a fulling mill along Alden Creek (now known as Alder Creek.) In 1815 together they purchased ninety-four acres of woodland in the twenty-first allotment of the Kaderosseras patent, possibly for timber for the sawmill that they built on their property along Alden Creek. Jeremiah again added to his land holdings when he purchased holdings in 1822 when he purchased an additional 153 acres in the same allotment.

At the time of Jeremiah’s death in 1844, his son, William V. took over the mill property, which was by then known as the Clark Sawmill. Along with operating the sawmill, William V. Clark served the community as Supervisor for the town of Providence seven times from 1848 to 1875. After Jeremiah passed away his wife Polly continued to live on their farm just south of the intersection of Clark Road on the west side of Antioch Road. Polly Clark lived to be 83 years old and is buried next to Jeremiah in the Clark Cemetery. On the 1856 Geil map of Providence, the Clark Sawmill property along Alden Creek is at the top center of the map; William’s farm on Clark Road is in the center and Jeremiah and Polly’s farm is along Antioch Road at the bottom.

Jeremiah’s epitaph was taken from the poem “Stanzas on the Death of Miss Rebecca Ann Marshall.” Surprisingly, it is possible to determine where whoever chose it for his gravestone had learned of this poem as the only time it was published before his death was in the January 1842 issue of Godey’s Ladies Book.

Godey’s, a monthly woman’s magazine that was the most widely circulated periodical in America before the Civil War. The poem was written by Emma Catherine Embury, a prolific author and poet from Brooklyn, New York, who likely was acquainted with Rebecca Ann and her family. While there is no record of Rebecca’s age when she passed away on August 21, 1841, the poem is written to commemorate a life cut short.

For the epitaph of Jeremiah Clark, only a portion of one stanza was taken from the four-stanza poem. When you read the complete stanza below it is understandable why the three lines were left out when being used to commemorate the life of this sixty-one-year-old farmer.

Could Friends have stayed the dart of death, While watching by thy side; Could Love recall life’s fleeting breath, Thou would’st not sure have died. But thou wert hurried to the tomb In all the flush of beauty’s bloom, In all thy youthful pride; Affection, powerless to save, Could only weep above thy grave.

Neither Rebecca Ann nor Jeremiah lived lives that brought them into the limelight of history, one as her life was cut short and the other from being someone who lived a simple life providing for himself and his family. The lesson that I learned in all of this is that each life story, no matter how short or simple, speaks of a person, someone who lived and breathed the same as we do today. Taking time to consider those who came before us, famous or obscure, can enrich our lives when we take time to delve into the stories these men and women have been left behind.

Dave Waite is a resident of Blue Corners, Saratoga County and is a photographer and videographer.  He has written many articles on upstate New York history, including several in the recently published book, More Saratoga County Stories. Dave can be reached at davewaitefinearts@gmail.com 

Over 160 years ago, 1861, our great Civil War was upon us in the United States. Pitting, in some cases, brother against brother, this war claimed more Americans than any other in which we have been involved.  Ballston was not exempt from participation in the war and sent many a man off to the fighting.  But one man, a staunch supporter of the Confederate cause, ended up in Ballston!

The Battle of Wilson’s Creek, probably a battle about which you have never heard, was fought on August 10, 1861 near Springfield, Missouri.  At about 5 AM Northern General Nathaniel Lyon, attacked the Confederates at Wilson’s Creek. Confederate forces soon rushed up and counterattacked the Union forces three times but failed to break through the Union lines. By 11 AM, the numerous attacks and counterattacks ended and a new Northern General Samuel Sturgis, realizing that his men were exhausted and his ammunition low, ordered a retreat to Springfield. The Confederates did not pursue and the battle ended.

Yes, there was a Ballston man there- well, a Ballston man-to-be.  J.M. Bailey was born in eastern Tennessee in 1841, moved to Arkansas, and, even though he was a “book-type” person, not the “fighting type,” he joined the Confederate troops and was at the Battle of Wilson’s Creek.  His unit never actually fought and, surprisingly, he was actually envious of those who did fight.  But, he witnessed the consequences of the fighting in which others in the group participated.  He would actually take part in a number of battles in later times.

J. M. Bailey recalled his days as a Confederate soldier in a 1929 Schenectady Gazette article recently uncovered in some files. That article indicated that Bailey had written his memoirs which are in the possession of an Arkansas library. In those memoirs, he talked of the change from the quiet of his country home to the excitement of being on the way to war.  And he spoke most proudly of the flag that flew with them, the flag of their new country, the Confederate States of America, the country that he and many others had pledged to defend.

The battles themselves were far less serene, according to his descriptions.  Shells flying on all sides; smoke totally obliterating any view of what was happening; summer heat made more intense because of heavy uniforms, thirst, and too few canteens to go around. 

But it got worse.  When all was again quiet, it was an eerie quiet.  He saw the dead everywhere; he saw faces “from which the lifeblood had ebbed away, stained…. with blood and dust….evidence that they fell on the firing line.”

And the dead were from both sides.  Bailey remembered one Union soldier whom he saw dying on the field, a man with what he called the “death pallor on his face.”  He could see that the man needed water and so, with great compassion as the man was from the “other” side, he held his own canteen so that the man could drink deeply, maybe the last drink he would ever have.

These were the scenes he remembered of the many battles Bailey would experience before his fighting years ended on the side that eventually lost its struggle for freedom.  Wilson’s Creek was the first major conflict west of the Mississippi River.  Troop strength in this battle was about 5,400 Union troops and 12,000 Confederates, not at all a small engagement.  The Confederate side was victorious and, during the battle, General Nathaniel Lyon was killed, the first Union general to die in combat in the war. 

But, there is more to the story. Uncovered a few years ago thanks to the records of the National Archives was a document that gives a greater glimpse into what happened to Bailey.  That document, pictured here, is his “Parole of Honor,” that is, his release from a Prisoner of War camp in 1865.  In that document he promises that he will never serve in the Confederate army again, never participate in any action against the United States of America again, and never render aid to enemies of the USA again.  It seems that, in 1865, Bailey, with his unit, moved from Minden LA to Shreveport LA to Marshall TX, where he and his group learned of Lee’s surrender.  He then went back to Shreveport as Federal troops arrived in order to surrender himself and get his “parole” papers.  It doesn’t seem that he was a prisoner for a very long time, as least by the way his memoirs are written.

So, how did he end up in Ballston? At some later point, he joined his relatives in Ballston, the Claude Bailey family, who started Fo’Castle Farms in Burnt Hills.   He wrote his memoirs so that his grandchildren, including Claude Moore Bailey of Burnt Hills, would know what his time in the Civil War had been like. And, thus, a Confederate soldier ended up in upstate New York!

This coming Monday we celebrate Presidents’ Day. The Federal holiday honors the 45 men who have attained the Office of The Presidency of the United States. It’s an ideal time to look at the remarkable life of Martin Van Buren. He was our eighth President and the first of six New York State residents to hold the office.

THE BEGINNINGS

Martin Van Buren’s life’s journey began less than 60 miles from here in Kinderhook, New York. The region, including Albany had been settled by immigrants from the Netherlands a century and a half before Martin was born. His date of birth was December 5, 1782. He was brought up in a home that spoke Dutch as its primary language. It would give him the distinction of being our only President to speak English as his second language.

Martin took a well travelled road to the political arena. He learned the law beginning at the age of 14 as a clerk at an attorney’s office. Seven years into his apprenticeship he passed the bar. The year was 1803. Martin Van Buren at the young age of 21 was on his way.

THE ASCENT TO POWER

Van Buren became known for his sharp mind and dapper attire. Soon he was considered one of upstate New York’s best courtroom attorneys. This distinction gave him a heads up for the nomination as a candidate for the State Senate in 1812. Although barely elected to the seat, Van Buren soon became a force to be reckoned with in the hotbed of New York State politics.

Five years later the Dutchman was elected Attorney General of The Empire State. In that post he became a leader of the state’s Democrat-Republicans, the forerunner of the Democratic Party.

In 1821 he was chosen by his peers as a United State senator. Of note, prior to the seventeenth amendment to the Constitution ratified in 1913, senators were voted in by their state legislatures. The senate seat gave Van Buren the keys to New York State’s thriving political machine. Although he was out of the state for long periods of time, he formed a group of partisans that controlled the spoils system in his absence. They became known as “The Albany Regency.”

It was in that time period Van Buren was labeled with a pair of nicknames that stayed with him throughout his career. He was called “The Little Magician” and “The Sly Fox.” The former was a reference to his diminutive size and unmatched political skills, the latter due to the red color of his hair and shrewd methods of governing.

Van Buren made his greatest political gift to the country in the early 1820s. He was instrumental in forming the Democratic Party. It was the beginning of our two party system. The long lasting effects are still in place almost two centuries later.

The 1828 presidential election was a turning point in Van Buren’s political career. He gave his unwavering support to the winning candidate, Andrew Jackson. In that same cycle Van Buren was elected as Governor of New York. His term began on January first, 1829. On March fourth Jackson became President. One of his first priorities was to name Van Buren as Secretary of State. He accepted the position after serving only 64 days as Governor. He quickly became a major player in international affairs. Later in Jackson’s first term, Van Buren served for a short time as Minister to Great Britain.

Jackson ran for a second term in 1832. Van Buren was his handpicked choice for number two man on the ticket. They easily won the election. “The Little Magician” spent the next four years as Vice-President.

With Jackson’s blessing, Van Buren became the unanimous choice as the Democratic Party’s candidate for President in 1836. He won the general election with ease. Much was expected from the wily politician when he was sworn in as our eighth President. It was his ill fortune to be confronted with the country’s first major depression only a few weeks into his administration. Van Buren would struggle with the calamity for his entire time in office. The old nicknames of respect were replaced by a new one.” Martin Van Ruin” became the rallying cry of his adversaries. There were positive results in his tenure, unfortunately not enough to halt the Nation’s financial crisis.

The bright star of Martin Van Buren was quickly fading.

After four years in the White House he was soundly defeated in his re- election bid. He had this to say about his tenure as Chief Executive.

“As to the Presidency, the two happiest days of my life were those of my entry upon the office and my surrender of it.” He promptly exited Washington,D.C. and headed home to Lindenwald, his estate in Kinderhook.

His term as President is hard to gauge. Being saddled with a nationwide financial disaster is a difficult, if not impossible obstacle for any leader to overcome. Though eminently qualified for the office, Herbert Hoover would learn the same lesson nearly a century later. As for Van Buren’s political skills as President, he is without peer.

THE LINDENWALD YEARS

Lindenwald was purchased by Van Buren in 1839. It is located in his hometown of Kinderhook. The estate covered over 200 acres at the time and was also a working farm. The centerpiece of the property is a Georgian Style Mansion that Van Buren transformed into his vision of an Italian Villa.

 The former President relished in his new surroundings. Here is a quote from Van Buren describing how he felt about his years at Lindenwald. He stated “The last and happiest days of my life, a farmer in my native town.”

Van Buren spent much of his last years traveling and was in high demand as a speaker at important events. He did make an attempt to regain the Presidency as a failed third party candidate in 1848. He also found the time to write a lengthy volume of memoirs. Martin Van Buren, “The Red Fox of Kinderhook” passed away on July 24th 1862. He was 79 years old.

Lindenwald is now a National Historical Site. Tours are given daily throughout most of the year, excluding the winter months. The home has been refurbished to the time of Van Buren’s occupancy. Many of his belongings and period furniture decorate the interior of the mansion. It’s about an hour’s drive from here and a worthwhile day trip for those who have an interest in the history of both our state and country.

A TRIP TO SARATOGA

Van Buren visited Saratoga Springs during his presidency. In the summer of 1839 he attended political meetings at the original United States Hotel on Broadway. It is not to be confused with its famous namesake that was built on the same site after an 1865 fire destroyed the original building.

Van Buren is one of several of our Presidents to have spent time here. George Washington, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Ulysses S. Grant, and Theodore Roosevelt are among those who also visited the city.

I hope you have enjoyed our look back at the life and times of Martin Van Buren. He is one of the select few who have guided this great country through the nearly two and a half centuries of its rise from a newborn nation to its status as leader of the free world.

VISITING LINDENWALD

The following is a link to the Martin Van Buren National Historic Site: www.nps.gov/nr/travel/presidents/van_buren_lindenwald.html

Though perhaps a dying proverb, “What in Sam Hill?!” used to be commonplace as an expression of exasperation. A quick internet search will point to several possible origin stories that explain where this phrase came from but, like most internet searches, the definitive truth remains elusive. Could it be that a county resident known by this common moniker contributed to this once-popular phrase?

An article published in the 1974 book Saratoga County Heritage relays an interesting story about a basket maker who lived in the Saratoga Springs area in the early 1800s. His name was Sam Hill, and the story, as told by author Milford Lester, plays out like this: Sam Hill lived in Splinterville (a hamlet in Greenfield near what is now the intersection of Route 9N and Middle Grove Road), so-called for the splints used to make baskets. Sam used to walk to Broadway carrying an armload of his wares to sell to the tourists visiting the mineral springs in the summer. He was an eccentric dresser and was asked by some patrons (one of whom was an artist) of the Union Hall Hotel if he would like to have his portrait painted. While Sam was reluctant at first, he agreed when offered a financial incentive. The finished portrait was then given to the hotel, where it hung in the office until the building was demolished, upon which it was moved to the Grand Union Hotel. Upon the demise of that hotel, it made its way into a private collection.

While this is an interesting story that has been passed down through generations of Saratogians, we have very little primary source documentation about the actual man. There is a Samuel Hill recorded on the 1820 Census in Greenfield, and in 1830 in Saratoga Springs. Exact ages were not provided on these early censuses, but there is a free white male recorded as being aged between 60-69 in 1830, which could possibly be the Sam Hill in the portrait. Another source comes in a notation in the diary of Daniel Benedict (Saratoga Springs) who relays that Mr. Sam Hill died on July 2, 1835 “at an advanced age.” This diary was later transcribed by Cornelius Durkee and serialized in the Saratoga Sentinel in the early 1880s. Commentary added at this later date included the statement, “He was the originator of the splint basket business which afterward became very widespread.”  In the aforementioned article by Milford Lester, he describes the coat worn by Sam Hill as “continental.”  While it is unclear whether or not this refers to a military uniform coat, Hill could have been at the right age to have fought in the American Revolution. If he did, any record of this could not be located. Other resources consulted including land records, mortgages and estate files have not turned up any further documentation about the life of Sam Hill.

Tradition also indicates Hill was a Native American, possibly Abenaki. There were other Native Americans living in this area, which had belonged to the Mohawks of the Haudenosaunee Nation in the not-to-distant past. By the end of the American Revolution in 1783, many of the Mohawk, who had sided with the British during the war, had already left this area. However, some Native Americans remained and found ways to survive in the new nation. One of these ways was by continuing to produce traditional native crafts to sell to the tourists who frequented Saratoga Springs, such as baskets. Rather than letting go of their culture to assimilate into a European society, they used this opportunity to continue their traditions and pass them down to future generations. In the mid-1800s, a seasonal Indian Encampment was set up in Congress Park, where people of Native American descent would come for the season, sell handmade crafts, and give demonstrations of traditional weapons, dances, and ceremonies. Observations by tourists show that this was a popular destination for those visiting the city and it continued for over 50 years, dissolving sometime in the early 1900s.

While it may seem that this article focuses heavily on the things we don’t know about Sam Hill, there is one extremely important artifact that does exist, his portrait. It is relatively rare for a portrait of a resident who was not wealthy to survive from this time period. Important context included in the painting are his clothing and the baskets he carried, giving us insight into what some of the craftsmen who frequented the spa might have looked like. Furthermore, we know that Sam Hill found a way to continue practicing a traditional craft and made a living from it, a craft that went on to become even more popular as evidenced by the splint factories that were built along Bell Brook and continued to thrive throughout the second half of the 19th century.

The William G. Pomeroy Foundation of Syracuse, NY is well known for funding thousands of historic markers across New York State and beyond. One of the marker programs they offer is the Legends and Lore Program, which recognizes the fact that not every story that relays information about a community’s past can be documented through primary sources. In 2022, the Saratoga County Historian’s Office received a grant from the William G. Pomeroy Foundation to erect a marker in Splinterville recognizing the story of Sam Hill as a Native American craftsman in the community. The marker was installed in November 2022 and is located at the intersection of Mill Road and Middle Grove Road in the Town of Greenfield, not far from where the splint factories used the water of Bell Brook to power their machines. While researching Sam Hill, I did not find any further information related to him being the originator of the proverbial “What in Sam Hill?” but perhaps his c. 1832 portrait is a better legacy of his contribution. 

Lauren Roberts is the Saratoga County Historian. She is co-host of the WAMC podcast A New York Minute in History, along with NYS Historian Devin Lander. Roberts co-produced the recently released documentary Harnessing Nature: Building the Great Sacandaga, which chronicles the creation of the Sacandaga Reservoir. You can reach Lauren at lroberts@saratogacountyny.gov

Ever since it opened to traffic on April 11, 1960, thousands of Saratoga County residents have daily passed over the Mohawk River on the Northway and think they are on the Twin Bridges. Few realize that the bridge is really named for one of America’s greatest heroes – Taddeus Kosciusko.

Tadeusz Kosciuszko (Taddeus Kosciusko is the Anglicized version) was born to minor Polish nobility on February 4, 1746 and educated at the School for Knights in Warsaw. There, he studied not only military science but also history, philosophy, Latin, French, German, geography, and engineering. He completed his studies in France attending lectures at the Academy of Fine Arts and at military schools.

Because Poland was dominated by its larger neighbors Prussia and Russia, ambitious young men such as Taddeus found opportunities lacking and so he immigrated to America in 1776. His military skills were sorely needed in the Continental Army which was composed mostly of farmers. He was immediately given a commission as a Colonel of Engineers and later promoted to head engineer of the Army.

He was soon attached to the Northern Army in response to Gen. “Gentleman Johnny” Burgoyne’s impending invasion from Canada. Assigned to assess the defenses of Fort Ticonderoga, he recommended that a battery of artillery be placed on Mount Independence. The commander foolishly ignored this advice and the British captured the Fort after they placed their artillery on Mount Independence. As the Americans retreated south from Fort Ti, Kosciusko destroyed bridges, felled trees and dammed streams thus providing the needed time to regroup and select a good defensive position from which to meet the enemy. That place was Saratoga.

Kosciusko’s array of defensive positions, particularly on Bemis Heights overlooking the Hudson River, frustrated the British Army when they attached on September 19 and again on October 7, 1777. When Burgoyne realized he could not proceed and was unable to return to Canada due to the approaching winter, he surrendered. General Gates, the Commander at Saratoga, later wrote that “the great tacticians of the campaign were the hills and forests which a young Polish engineer was skillful enough to select for my encampment.” If the Battle of Saratoga was the turning point of the American Revolution, then Taddeus Kosciusko was at the hub of the turn.

Other sites where Kosciusko applied his talents were at Peebles Island at the confluence of the Mohawk and the Hudson in Waterford and at West Point. His earthworks at Bemis Heights and Peebles Island can still be seen today while his plans for defending West Point were those that Benedict Arnold tried to sell to the British. After Saratoga, he transferred to the Southern Department as Chief Engineer and participated in most of the important battles in that area until Cornwallis’s surrender in 1781.

At the conclusion of the war, a grateful Continental Congress promoted him to Brigadier General, granted American citizenship and gave him a land grant. He was also admitted to the prestigious Society of the Cincinnati and the American Philosophical Society. Prior to returning to his native Poland, he wrote to his good friend Thomas Jefferson, “I hereby authorize my friend Thomas Jefferson to employ the whole thereof (his estate) in purchasing Negroes from among his own or any other and giving them liberty in my name”. To his shame, Jefferson neglected to carry out Kosciusko’s wishes. In Poland he led the opposition to Russian interference in the internal affairs of Poland. When war broke out with Russia (referred to as Kosciusko’s Uprising), he won many battles but eventually was wounded and captured. Released in 1796, he was destined to wander throughout Europe until his death in 1817.

The poet Byron said that “Kosciusko was that sound that crashes in a tyrant’s ear” and Jefferson pronounced him “as pure a son of liberty as I have ever known.” Next time you cross his bridge, shout out a hardy “Dziekuje” for our liberties.

Paul Perreault has been the Malta Town Historian since 2009. He served as principal in the Ballston Spa School District from 1978 until 1998 and as a history teacher at Shenendehowa High School from 1967 until 1975. He is the editor of the Gristmill, published quarterly by the Saratoga County History Center. Paul can be reached at historian@malta-town.org