Interview: Diane Rapaport, Author

Many of the incidents that wound up in court involved alcohol. How much did people drink, and what were their drinks of choice?

Puritans were not teetotalers—that’s for sure—but it’s difficult to say how much the average person drank. Beer and hard cider were common daily beverages for all members of the family, even children, back in 17th-century New England. And there were plenty of taverns (known as “ordinaries”) where people could drink “strong waters” with higher alcohol content, like wine, rum (sometimes mixed with sugar and water), brandy, sack (similar to today’s sherry), and other liquors. Overindulgence was discouraged, then as today—and drunkenness was a punishable offense—but the old court records are full of cases about Puritans who drank too much. And the alcohol loosened their tongues, or led to violence or other antisocial behavior, which got people into even more trouble.

The amount of cursing by the Puritans was surprising. They seemed like the last people who would say they didn't "care a turd" for someone or something. But they were creative! How often did foul language turn up in your research?

Constantly! Virtually every court session in Puritan New England involved cases about people who said something crude or offensive. Some kinds of speech—cursing and blasphemy, for example—could land you in jail, or result in fines, whippings and other punishment. And people sued each other all the time for insults that seem quaint and laughable now—like calling someone a “rogue” or a “knave.” I tell in my book about one young Massachusetts man who was arrested (and faced the death penalty!) for repeatedly disobeying his parents and calling his father a “simple ape” (plus other creatively-vulgar insults).

One story involves a few Harvard students and Cambridge locals having a party. What was a typical party like in those times? What would a Thanksgiving have been like? Did Puritans celebrate Thanksgiving?

To answer the last question first: Puritans did not celebrate Thanksgiving—not, at least, in the same way or for the same reasons that we celebrate today. After the first Pilgrim Thanksgiving (when Plymouth colonists invited Native Americans to share a harvest meal), there was no regular 17th-century commemoration of that event. But the Puritan authorities declared occasional “days of thanksgiving”—in gratitude for much-needed rain after times of drought, for the end of smallpox epidemics, for divine redemption from other disasters, etc. And people fasted—not feasted—on those days, attending compulsory services at the town meeting house.

It’s probably impossible to describe a “typical” party, since that sort of frivolity was not really sanctioned in Puritan days. But people socialized over food and drink—they even sang, danced and played musical instruments—at a variety of public events like weddings and “training days” (when the local militia practiced). They also met for furtive illegal fun at private houses (such as card-playing and unchaperoned “courting,” as I describe in The Naked Quaker). And the court records describe much riotous merriment by heavy-drinking patrons of the local taverns.

There are plenty of accusations of witchcraft. What do you think motivated people to accuse their neighbors of being witches?

The 17th century was a very superstitious time. Almost everyone believed in witchcraft. Puritan ministers warned that evil witches lurked in the community (witches were feared like modern-day terrorists), and people worried that their neighbors, friends, or even family members might make secret pacts with the Devil. When bad things happened—illness, crop failure, or other unexplained misfortune—witchcraft seemed a likely cause. And suspicions centered on people who seemed “different” or eccentric (particularly outspoken women who simply did not fit the norms of the day). Puritans believed that witchcraft was the ultimate danger, threatening not only their lives but their souls, which may account for some of the hysteria that seems inexplicable today.

You mention that the current president and a few presidential candidates’ ancestors turn up in Massachusetts court records. Would you share a few of the stories with our readers?

Senator Barack Obama’s 10th-generation ancestor, Jonathan Singletary-Dunham, shows up in several 17th-century Massachusetts court cases. Jonathan was a married man who left his wife and reinvented himself as a wandering freelance preacher in the Plymouth colony. He came under the spell of a mysterious Boston woman named Mary Rosse. According to Jonathan, he followed her, doing whatever she told him to do, led by her “enthusiastical power.” For some reason, Mary convinced Jonathan to join her in setting a house on fire, killing a dog and threatening the lives of small children! Mary and Jonathan were whipped and banished from the colony. That was not the last time that Jonathan did exactly what Mary told him to do, and he was not the only man to succumb to her “enthusiastical power.”

One of President Bush’s ancestors also appears in the book—a feisty farmer-lawyer from Concord, Massachusetts, named John Hoar, who negotiated with Indians and also was one of the first lawyers in America to be disbarred!

How did you choose the stories in The Naked Quaker from all the court documents that you read?

It was SO hard to choose! I picked 25 of my favorite stories for the book—cases that I found particularly quirky, amusing, poignant, or shocking—but there are so many other true stories from old court records that I’d like to tell.

How difficult was it to read the original documents? Some of the handwriting samples that appear in the book are hard on the eyes.

17th-century handwriting can be a challenge to decipher sometimes, but reading old court documents gets easier and easier with practice. There’s a great book, Reading Early American Handwriting, by Kip Sperry, which really helped me when I began archival research.

Since you've worked as a lawyer and done so much research, is it really true that Puritans were more litigious than modern Americans?

I’ve not seen empirical studies to “prove” whether Puritans were more litigious. But it certainly seems true, from my own research and experience, that the so-called “litigation explosion” is not just a modern phenomenon. Courts and judges played a central role in everyday Puritan life, and “going to law” was the common remedy for disputes large and small—from complicated business transactions to neighborhood squabbles. Puritans sued each other for all kinds of things that we’d never litigate today.

If someone wanted to research the Puritan era or embark on genealogical research, where should they get started? And what is the best way to navigate court documents?

My award-winning first book, New England Court Records: A Research Guide for Genealogists and Historians (Quill Pen Press, 2006, www.newenglandcourtrecords.com), shows how to find ancestors and trace regional history—from the 17th to the 21st centuries—in court records from hundreds of sources (courthouses, archives, books, microfilm, and computer resources). One wonderful Internet source, where people can jump right into reading old Massachusetts court records, is the 9-volume Records and Files of the Quarterly Courts of Essex County, edited by George Francis Dow, at http://etext.virginia.edu/salem/witchcraft/Essex, covering the years from 1636-1686.

What compelled you to switch from practicing law to writing about history?

I always wanted to be a writer (and I even wrote a short book when I was in the third grade—sent it off to a publisher and received a very sweet rejection letter…!) Colonial American history was my first love—I was a history major in college—and I almost went on to be a history professor instead of a lawyer. About ten years ago, while I was still practicing law, I started poking around in the Massachusetts Archives, looking at old court records. To my delight, I discovered a wonderful cache of court files about a man from my own town (Lexington, Massachusetts), documents apparently overlooked for hundreds of years. (I tell that story, which I call the case of “The Purloined Pigs,” in my book.) Reading colonial court records became a passion (some might call it an obsession!), and I found a treasure trove of historical information and human-interest stories too good to stay hidden away in archives. So I began writing articles—for New England Ancestors magazine and other publications—followed by my New England Court Records reference guide, and now, The Naked Quaker. Practicing law was interesting, but I’m having so much more fun writing about history.

What are you working on next?

I’m continuing a regular column called “Tales from the Courthouse” for New England Ancestors magazine (the journal of the New England Historic Genealogical Society in Boston). Soon I’ll be starting a blog, too (at my website, www.Diane-Rapaport.com). And I have a historical novel in progress, based on some true stories from 17th-century New England and Scotland.