by Chap Petersen

A long time ago, I was a freshman at an elite New England college, just graduated from Fairfax High School. (โF-A-I-R-F-A-X-R-E! B-E-L-S, Oh yes! Those Rebels are best!โ).
On a gorgeous fall morning in 1987, I was taking a class in Colonial American history, when the topic turned to the American Revolution. The professor asked the class whether it was truly a โrevolutionโ or merely a reordering of the pre-Marxist power structure.
Of course, I fell for the bait. The American Revolution was different, I opined. It changed the world by basing government on democracy, not aristocracy.
The professor laughed and pulled a nickel out of his pocket. This is the home of Thomas Jefferson, he declaimed, the author of American liberty. He then passed it around the class, so everyone could examine Jeffersonโs modest abode.
The point was clear: Jefferson was not a โdemocratโ in any modern sense. He was a gentleman planter, a slaveowner. The Revolution he spawned was a myth.
In the past five years, as Iโve done research for my upcoming book, Iโve confirmed what I had suspected that morning:
My learned Marxist professor was not just wrong — he was spectacularly wrong.
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