Aren't Landmarks, Plaques, Statues, Documents & Images Made To Educate In The First Place?
Aren't Landmarks, Plaques, Statues, Documents & Images Made To Educate In The First Place? - Hallo World !!! News Today in World, In this article you read by title Aren't Landmarks, Plaques, Statues, Documents & Images Made To Educate In The First Place?, We've prepared this article well so you can read and retrieve information on it. Hopefully the contents of the post
Article Salisbury News, What we write can you understand. Okay, happy reading.
Title : Aren't Landmarks, Plaques, Statues, Documents & Images Made To Educate In The First Place?
link : Aren't Landmarks, Plaques, Statues, Documents & Images Made To Educate In The First Place?
You are now reading the article Aren't Landmarks, Plaques, Statues, Documents & Images Made To Educate In The First Place? With link address https://newstoday-ok.blogspot.com/2017/08/arent-landmarks-plaques-statues.html
Title : Aren't Landmarks, Plaques, Statues, Documents & Images Made To Educate In The First Place?
link : Aren't Landmarks, Plaques, Statues, Documents & Images Made To Educate In The First Place?
news-today.world |
If you drive west on Interstate 68 from Cumberland Maryland, you will cross over several tall, steep ridges. These ridges were formed by the Alleghenian Orogeny during the late Permian Period, when the African continent slammed into what is now North America. On the summit of one of these ridges there is a sign that has sparked a good deal of controversy. “Negro Mountain,” the sign reads.
Not too long ago a white politician attempted to change the name of Negro Mountain because the name was “embarrassing and offensive.” He may well have succeeded if not for the efforts of a group of African American historians, who raised an outcry of “Don’t you dare!” Good for them.
The mountain was named by Thomas Cresap, circa 1756. Cresap was an early settler, who built a fort, and trading post on what was then the western frontier of Maryland. You probably won’t see his name in a school textbook, because someone famous didn’t write a silly poem about him. Cresap did a lot of trading with the Native Americans that frequented the area, and they referred to his trading post as “The big spoon,” because he was famed for feeding any and all who came. He was even invited to the council fires of one tribe, an honor seldom bestowed.
When the Seven Years War broke out, the French came up with a strategy to pull British resources away from the “real” fighting, by sending Indian mercenaries to attack the western settlements. Before you go all politically correct on me, I must say that if a group has to travel for hundreds of miles to torture, murder, burn and butcher innocent civilians that are no threat to them, and do so under the payroll of another European power, they are not “defending their homeland,” they are simply acting as mercenaries. This war of terror did not have the desired effect, because the British sent precious little help to the frontier. Sure, they sent a few token Provincial troops, but for the most part, the settlers were left to defend themselves. Thomas Cresap was given the rank of Colonel, and in 1756 raised a group of forty Rangers. The colonial Rangers were the elite of the militia. The best of the best. They did not fight “in line” like regular troops, they used guerrilla tactics, and were commonly deployed as scouts. Rangers, unlike regular troops, had to be able to think and act independently, so only the most intelligent and skilled of men were allowed to volunteer. One of Cresap’s forty Rangers was a freed African slave. Yes, one of the “best of the best” was black.
This may sound surprising, but it shouldn’t. The early settlers were a diverse bunch. Sure, many like Cresap, were English, but most of them were Germans, Dutch, Swiss, Welch, French Huguenots, Irish, and Scots. Many of the last two were former slaves themselves. Most of them didn’t speak English when they arrived on American soil. A man’s background didn’t matter on the frontier. The color of his skin didn’t matter. A man was judged by his own merit. He was judged by his sense of honor, his skills, and his willingness to help others face hardships and adversities that few today can even comprehend. I must say that this is how it should be; everywhere, and in all times.
This black Ranger was by all accounts a huge man, possessed of an almost unbelievable strength. He refused to give anyone his name. His comrades had a great deal of respect for him, and refused to refer to him as “Hey *insert ‘n-word’ here*,” as he jokingly requested, so they gave him a nickname. They called him Nemesis based on his prowess in battle, for when it came down to the inevitable hand-to-hand combat, none could stand against him.
On one fateful day there was an attack on the settlements. Several settlers were killed, and some horses were stolen. Cresap’s Rangers went in pursuit, and caught up to the Indians on an unnamed ridge. Using tactics similar to that of modern Rangers, the men split up. One larger force acted as a diversion, while the rest flanked the enemy. Unknown to the Rangers, many of the Indians, mounted on the stolen horses, had circled around, and caught Cresap, and the diversionary force unawares. The Indians immediately dismounted to fire. With no time to re-load, the men were sitting ducks, and would surely have been killed. Enter Nemesis.
Roaring like an enraged bear, Nemesis burst from the woods some thirty yards away, and discharged his weapon into the enemy’s midst, drawing their fire. He saved Cresap’s life, and the lives of many of his fellows. Sadly, he was killed. His act of selfless heroism gave his comrades the time needed to re-load, and the Indians were defeated, and those not killed “ran off.”
There is no greater deed a man can do than to give his life for his friends. Today, his heroic actions would surely earn him the Medal of Honor. Alas, there was no equivalent of such an award then.
To honor Nemesis, Cresap named the ridge after him. He believed it inappropriate to give the ridge his nickname, and so gave it the name the big man had requested they call him. Negro Mountain it has been ever since.
Perhaps it is a good thing that the name makes many people uncomfortable. If it did not, the story of Nemesis may well have been long forgotten. That would be a tragedy of mountainous proportions, because his story of courage and sacrifice should never be forgotten.
Somewhere on Negro Mountain rests the unmarked grave of a big, big man. A man so big, that only a mountain could serve as his monument. All Americans owe him a huge debt. It was partially him, and those men like him on the frontier, that defined this country and what it stands for.
Not too long ago a white politician attempted to change the name of Negro Mountain because the name was “embarrassing and offensive.” He may well have succeeded if not for the efforts of a group of African American historians, who raised an outcry of “Don’t you dare!” Good for them.
The mountain was named by Thomas Cresap, circa 1756. Cresap was an early settler, who built a fort, and trading post on what was then the western frontier of Maryland. You probably won’t see his name in a school textbook, because someone famous didn’t write a silly poem about him. Cresap did a lot of trading with the Native Americans that frequented the area, and they referred to his trading post as “The big spoon,” because he was famed for feeding any and all who came. He was even invited to the council fires of one tribe, an honor seldom bestowed.
When the Seven Years War broke out, the French came up with a strategy to pull British resources away from the “real” fighting, by sending Indian mercenaries to attack the western settlements. Before you go all politically correct on me, I must say that if a group has to travel for hundreds of miles to torture, murder, burn and butcher innocent civilians that are no threat to them, and do so under the payroll of another European power, they are not “defending their homeland,” they are simply acting as mercenaries. This war of terror did not have the desired effect, because the British sent precious little help to the frontier. Sure, they sent a few token Provincial troops, but for the most part, the settlers were left to defend themselves. Thomas Cresap was given the rank of Colonel, and in 1756 raised a group of forty Rangers. The colonial Rangers were the elite of the militia. The best of the best. They did not fight “in line” like regular troops, they used guerrilla tactics, and were commonly deployed as scouts. Rangers, unlike regular troops, had to be able to think and act independently, so only the most intelligent and skilled of men were allowed to volunteer. One of Cresap’s forty Rangers was a freed African slave. Yes, one of the “best of the best” was black.
This may sound surprising, but it shouldn’t. The early settlers were a diverse bunch. Sure, many like Cresap, were English, but most of them were Germans, Dutch, Swiss, Welch, French Huguenots, Irish, and Scots. Many of the last two were former slaves themselves. Most of them didn’t speak English when they arrived on American soil. A man’s background didn’t matter on the frontier. The color of his skin didn’t matter. A man was judged by his own merit. He was judged by his sense of honor, his skills, and his willingness to help others face hardships and adversities that few today can even comprehend. I must say that this is how it should be; everywhere, and in all times.
This black Ranger was by all accounts a huge man, possessed of an almost unbelievable strength. He refused to give anyone his name. His comrades had a great deal of respect for him, and refused to refer to him as “Hey *insert ‘n-word’ here*,” as he jokingly requested, so they gave him a nickname. They called him Nemesis based on his prowess in battle, for when it came down to the inevitable hand-to-hand combat, none could stand against him.
On one fateful day there was an attack on the settlements. Several settlers were killed, and some horses were stolen. Cresap’s Rangers went in pursuit, and caught up to the Indians on an unnamed ridge. Using tactics similar to that of modern Rangers, the men split up. One larger force acted as a diversion, while the rest flanked the enemy. Unknown to the Rangers, many of the Indians, mounted on the stolen horses, had circled around, and caught Cresap, and the diversionary force unawares. The Indians immediately dismounted to fire. With no time to re-load, the men were sitting ducks, and would surely have been killed. Enter Nemesis.
Roaring like an enraged bear, Nemesis burst from the woods some thirty yards away, and discharged his weapon into the enemy’s midst, drawing their fire. He saved Cresap’s life, and the lives of many of his fellows. Sadly, he was killed. His act of selfless heroism gave his comrades the time needed to re-load, and the Indians were defeated, and those not killed “ran off.”
There is no greater deed a man can do than to give his life for his friends. Today, his heroic actions would surely earn him the Medal of Honor. Alas, there was no equivalent of such an award then.
To honor Nemesis, Cresap named the ridge after him. He believed it inappropriate to give the ridge his nickname, and so gave it the name the big man had requested they call him. Negro Mountain it has been ever since.
Perhaps it is a good thing that the name makes many people uncomfortable. If it did not, the story of Nemesis may well have been long forgotten. That would be a tragedy of mountainous proportions, because his story of courage and sacrifice should never be forgotten.
Somewhere on Negro Mountain rests the unmarked grave of a big, big man. A man so big, that only a mountain could serve as his monument. All Americans owe him a huge debt. It was partially him, and those men like him on the frontier, that defined this country and what it stands for.
So here’s to you Nemesis. I can only wish that I could shake your hand. If the name of your monument makes some uncomfortable, so be it. Maybe it’s a good thing. If nothing else, perhaps it will raise awareness that not all heroes of that time were white, and not all men with black skin were friendless slaves. His almost two hundred sixty year old story stands as a shining example that men of different races can walk together in friendship, mutual respect, and love.
That's an article Aren't Landmarks, Plaques, Statues, Documents & Images Made To Educate In The First Place?
Fine for article Aren't Landmarks, Plaques, Statues, Documents & Images Made To Educate In The First Place? This time, hopefully can benefit for you all. Well, see you in other article postings.
You are now reading the article Aren't Landmarks, Plaques, Statues, Documents & Images Made To Educate In The First Place? With link address https://newstoday-ok.blogspot.com/2017/08/arent-landmarks-plaques-statues.html