No. 22

The Elders in 1791

Dear Stewart,

George Washington visited the Brother Tavern again in June 1791. The joint was hopping with inebriated customers, cheering their hero.

As G.W. was escorted out of town, he turned to his fan club and said,  "I cannot leave you, fellow-citizens, without thanking you again and again for your kind greeting; for the true and devoted friendship you have shown me. When in the darkest hours of the Revolution, of doubt and gloom, the succor and support I received from the people of Frederick County always cheered me. It always awoke a responsive echo in my breast. I feel the emotion of gratitude beating in my heart. - My heart is too full to say more. God bless you all."

            A month later, Mr. Brother died at the age of 47. Valentine managed the bar and he logged what he referred to later in life as mere hash-mark days: get up, greet strangers, overhear their action-packed stories, clean up, s ay goodbye to strangers, go to bed. So dry to the bone he was that he caught himself improving his mother’s complaints into stories with a nag as protagonist. Would he ever feel what G.W. spoke about - a “responsive echo”? Was he meant to just go mad?

When he got the chance to serve on a jury, he took the exit ramp. Valentine wore his best clothes, pleased when this decision made him stand out. With the slamming of the gavel, his heart raced. The back-stabbing criminal told his version against Mr. Virtue, who had a better tale that not only included animated pain and suffering with musical whimpering, but witnesses and documentation.

Moving his head from left to right and back again, Valentine had an epiphany. I could do this all day long. How to get paid to work with liars? I shall work for the government!

After the verdict, he addressed the men refusing to leave the room, still debating. He led them over to the tavern, almost without their knowledge. Drinks were on him. To do otherwise would be to go mad.

— Miss Minnie

2025 Copyright Christine Friesel