As we approach the 250th anniversary of America’s independence in 2026, it is fitting to reflect on the events that ignited the Revolutionary spirit and a newly born nation.
Just over 250 years ago, in April 1775, a network of riders traversed the New England countryside under the cover of night, spreading the alarm that would rally the colonies to arms. While Paul Revere’s name endures in legend, many of his fellow riders remain unsung heroes of that pivotal moment.
Every great movement depends on those willing to act without a promise of reward. As Paul Revere set off across Boston Neck, other men took to the roads beside him, threading their way through the mist and danger of a restless countryside—while women, in towns and farmsteads along the route, played their part by answering the call and passing the warning hand to hand.
Few had poems written for them. Fewer still have monuments. But if liberty were to survive that night, it would be by many hands, not just one.
William Dawes rode a separate route from Revere, pounding over the rough paths of Roxbury and Brookline through the sleeping villages southwest of Boston. A tanner by trade, Dawes bore no poet’s fame, no romantic aura—only determination and daring.
His route was longer and rougher than Revere’s, winding through thicketed woods and lonely crossroads. Without Dawes, half the countryside might have remained asleep.
As they rode west, Samuel Prescott, a young physician from Concord, happened upon Revere and Dawes.
Though history recalls Revere’s name, Prescott carried the warning to Concord’s militia after British patrols intercepted his companions. Swift, sure, and familiar with every back trail, Prescott had the town’s future—and perhaps the Revolution—on his shoulders that night.
Further beyond, Israel Bissell rode a different kind of road: a journey of endurance. Dispatched to spread the alarm to the broader colonies, Bissell galloped through towns and villages across Massachusetts, Connecticut, and New York, covering more than 300 miles in less than five days. His message—“To arms, to arms! The war has begun!”—became the first ripples of a movement that would soon span a continent.
They were joined by dozens more, names barely preserved in the brittle ink of old letters: Abel Benson, Jonathan Fisher, Ebenezer Doolittle. Some were captured, some turned back, but their mission endured. Each mile rode, each door pounded upon, bringing free people one step closer to destiny.
Riding through the night was no simple errand of patriotism. It was an act of open defiance, punishable by imprisonment, confiscation, or death.
British patrols prowled the countryside that night, alerted to the possibility of warning riders. Revere himself was captured for a time, interrogated at gunpoint, and only narrowly released. Dawes, too, was forced from his horse during a desperate flight from pursuing soldiers.
Many lesser-known messengers were seized or turned back before reaching their destinations; their efforts were lost to the darkness.
Even success carried its price. Every knock on a door risked betrayal; every whispered alarm risked exposure. Those who sheltered the riders, who passed the word from house to house, took their lives in their hands just as surely as those who rode.
There was no assurance that their warnings would be heeded, no guarantee that militias would muster in time, no certainty that the cause would not collapse before it truly began. They acted not with the confidence of history but with the raw courage of those willing to gamble everything for an uncertain hope.
In their risk lay the first real stakes of revolution: the choice to act not when victory was certain but when conscience demanded it—even at the cost of all they had.
By its nature, history magnifies the deeds of the few and dims the labors of the many. Centuries later, it is easy to see the Revolution’s early hours through the narrowed lens of a handful of names—to imagine that a single rider, warning, and stand turned the course of fate.
But the truth is more profound. Liberty’s birth was not a solitary triumph but a symphony of small, determined acts. It was the whispered alarm passed from neighbor to neighbor. It was the hurried saddle thrown across a weary horse. It was the silent decision made in countless homes: to answer the call, to risk the unknown, to believe in a cause not yet certain and a country not yet born.
The forgotten midnight riders—Dawes, Prescott, Bissell, and the dozens whose names scarcely survive—embody the essential truth of every great struggle for freedom: that it is carried not by celebrated figures alone but by ordinary men and women who choose principle over safety, duty over comfort, action over fear.
They remind us that the making of history is not reserved for the famous. It belongs to those willing to move in the darkness when the outcome is uncertain, and the world holds its breath.
Their hoofbeats may no longer echo across the fields—landscapes now erased by urban sprawl and the passage of time. The open terrain that once resonated with the urgency of their mission has been transformed by modern development, making it difficult to envision the paths that carried the message of revolution. Yet, their spirit endures.
Each knock on a farmhouse door whispered warning in the dark, and mile-ridden at the risk of life and liberty conveyed more than a message—it carried a future. Without them, the flame lit in the Old North Church belfry might have been snuffed out in darkness.
Because of them, it spread from village to village, colony to colony, heart to heart, enduring through generations. The light of American liberty must never be allowed to dim.
We remember Paul Revere, and rightly so. But we must also honor the countless others—the farmers and tanners, the young doctors and weary travelers—who turned one night’s alarm into the rising voice of a free people.
Though the sounds of their rides have faded, their legacy endures—wherever ordinary individuals choose duty over fear and freedom over silence.
Charlton Allen is an attorney, former chief executive officer, and chief judicial officer of the North Carolina Industrial Commission. He is the founder of the Madison Center for Law & Liberty, Inc., editor of The American Salient, and the host of the Modern Federalist podcast. In 2025, he was appointed by President Donald J. Trump to serve as Special Counsel, subject to confirmation by the United States Senate. X: @CharltonAllenNC
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