Fort Pitt: A Frontier History

By Brady J Crytzer and Alan Gutchess

Learn more about a key military bastion of the American Revolution and guard of the Western frontier, Pittsburgh, through this illustrated history.

For nearly half a century, Fort Pitt stood at the forks of the great Ohio River. A keystone to British domination in the territory during the French and Indian War and Pontiac’s Rebellion, it was the most technologically advanced fortification in the Western Hemisphere. Early Patriots later seized the fort, and it became a rallying point for the fledgling Revolution. Guarding the young settlement of Pittsburgh, Fort Pitt was the last point of civilization at the edge of the new American West. With vivid detail, historian Brady Crytzer traces the full history of Fort Pitt, from empire outpost to a bastion on the frontlines of a new republic.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Jul 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781614236917

Book preview

PROLOGUE

STREETS OF A THOUSAND NAMES

The ghosts of Pittsburgh’s past are all around it. They reside within it, and they remain as unwavering and steadfast as ever before. Though most residents aren’t aware of it, they pay their respects to Pittsburgh’s countless Founding Fathers every day.

The names of those who fought, were killed or died (metaphorically and literally) to create this city are well known, and their voices resonate across the limitless boundaries of time. While we are very familiar with some, men like Colonel George Washington and General John Forbes, there are others who are less recognizable. In most textbooks across America, figures like Major James Grant and Seneca matriarch Aliquippa go unnoticed, an awful slight considering that these are the same people who laid the foundations of the modern United States as we know it.

While their legacies may fall on deaf ears in most American suburbs, the city and people of Pittsburgh share a special relationship with this forgotten cast of giants; they see them everywhere. In the monotonous drone that is the morning commute for the average Pittsburgher, whether driving north, south, east or west, the names and likenesses of Pittsburgh’s most historic figures pass by without a second glance. As some of the city’s most heavily trafficked roadways, those congested and turbulent passages leading in and out of downtown remain firm as lasting manifestations of the heritage and history of that vital region in western Pennsylvania.

Following a lecture on Colonel Henry Bouquet’s 1763 victory over the Ohio Indian warriors of Guyasuta, a student approached me with an uncommon and heartfelt sentiment: This lecture is changing the way I think of where I grew up; I feel like a tourist in my own city. It was a startling revelation for a class that took place at 8:00 a.m. on Saturday mornings.

In that simple phrase, a lifetime of appreciation and inspiration came together for me as a historical professional. My love for the region in which I was raised, and the area in which I have spent my professional career studying, was summarized in that one comment. Pittsburgh is a city of natives; its people know every inch of its sacred soil, and their wildest dream is simply to raise their children in the same neighborhoods and on the same streets that they, too, knew as children. In that one statement I found my own emotional and professional attachment to this region and its history captured in a brief moment, and my role as a historian was validated.

Whether it is the tall tales of figures like Roberto Clemente or Mean Joe Greene or the heroic survival of Massey Harbison, the people of Pittsburgh love their city—the good, the bad and everything in between. It is a puzzling and refreshing devotion, and the region’s history is a vital piece of that puzzle, including the good, the bad and everything in between.

So what exactly prompted that student on that Saturday morning to make such a bold statement? Her words undoubtedly stemmed from that fact that the best way to experience the history and character of the city of Pittsburgh is to drive in it, through it and around it. A critical eye will change a commute from an endless toil to a satisfying journey of fleeting realizations and burning questions. Intersections take on new meanings, and street names prompt momentary sessions of silent reverence. The rivers that have defined the city of Pittsburgh for more than 250 years prompt informed motorists to truly consider what a waterway could mean for a wary, determined army. One of those rivers, the Ohio, connects directly to the Mississippi, and controlling it would mean unifying a French empire from Montreal to New Orleans—a landmass in size roughly comparable to the distance from Paris to Moscow. Though it seems worlds away, one can spend hours considering just how meaningful that fact could be.

The meaning of those three rivers—the Allegheny, the Monongahela and the Ohio—is endlessly important to the history and development of the drama that is America. A twenty-one-year-old George Washington nearly died while crossing them, the might of the French imperial military traversed them and Meriwether Lewis and William Clark’s incredible journey originated on them.

Standing beside these rivers will serve as a challenge to the eye and an invigoration to the soul. As the Monongahela travels northward, it collides with a southern-focused Allegheny, creating the gaping mouth of the Ohio. The flow patterns of these waterways change dramatically, and at one location, the eternal push/pull of the conflicting currents comes to a peaceful murmur. These massive bodies have, since their monumental marriage, created a unique parcel of triangular-shaped land that resounds throughout the annals of time. Three hundred years ago, it was known as the Forks of the Ohio; today it is Point State Park, and in between, it would play host to some of the most technologically advanced fortifications that the Western Hemisphere had ever seen.

To cross these rivers today harkens back to an age of forgotten bastions of power in the endless wilderness. When crossing the Allegheny, drivers must speed over the Fort Duquesne Bridge; when crossing the Monongahela, it is the Fort Pitt Bridge. While many recognize the names, few can truly imagine the immensity and importance of those forgotten structures that once sat directly beneath those very overpasses. They were the last lines of defense against a hostile frontier and beacons of success for the empires that constructed them. Though they would be built to withstand the full extent of an enemy’s onslaught, they had but only a few fleeting moments to truly prove their worth in the baptism by fire that was eighteenth-century combat. While their walls have since crumbled, their names remain as visible as ever.

Perhaps the best place to start an examination of popular street names is downtown Pittsburgh itself. Many have claimed, both native and visitor alike, that a wrong turn in Pittsburgh will take you on an unintended tour of the city. Unlike most thoughtfully planned-out urban centers, the Steel City is a veritable spider’s web of intersecting cross-streets. If one is driving these streets unaware of his position and direction, it seems nearly impossible to escape the city’s gentle grasp without a bird’s-eye view. It is in these streets, however, that we can take a first glimpse into the legacies of the people who have willingly and unwillingly lent their names in the face of growth and progress to the city of Pittsburgh.

Moving west to east, the first street to consider is Stanwix Street. Though it is a mere connecting thoroughfare compared to its neighbors, the man for whom it is named has left a resounding impact on the history of colonial America. John Stanwix, born in 1690 in England, would in 1756 be named colonel-commandant of the Sixtieth British Regiment of Foot, otherwise known as the Royal American Regiment. A full-fledged armed force in the name of His Majesty the King, the Sixtieth was made up of German, Irish and English soldiers. In 1759, following the taking of Fort Duquesne by General John Forbes, it would be Stanwix who would supervise the construction of the British fortification known as Fort Pitt. The street that was named in his honor sits only a few meters from the easternmost boundary of the former fort that he constructed more than 250 years ago.

Continuing one’s journey east, two major streets can be encountered that are original to the eighteenth century, Penn Avenue and Liberty Avenue. Though they were named Penn Street and Liberty Street two centuries ago, these major roadways, like today, served as metaphorical arteries to the heart of the city.

Just two loosely defined blocks over from Liberty Avenue today is Forbes Avenue. Named after General John Forbes, it stands as a monument to the man who, quite literally, laid the first brick of Pittsburgh by giving it its name. Forbes, chosen by British secretary of state William Pitt to march an expedition to capture Fort Duquesne in 1758, led a force of more than seven thousand men from Carlisle, Pennsylvania, to the Forks of the Ohio. Upon arrival, Forbes was shocked and pleased to see that his French counterparts had abandoned and destroyed Fort Duquesne, giving the British complete control over the area. He promptly named the new site Pittsburgh after his recently appointed superior. Forbes the man, however, shares some interesting characteristics with Forbes the Avenue in the twenty-first century. John Forbes pressed westward through the untamed wilderness, his men being forced to cut any path that they were to take. It was a difficult journey that ultimately led to his desired location. Forbes the Avenue is not much different. Beginning in Homewood, Forbes Avenue takes a six-mile journey westward to the heart of Pittsburgh itself. Traffic, pedestrians and wrong turns can make that journey also feel like a battle of wills.

Next, bisecting the city in half, north to south, is Grant Street. There may be no roadway in Pittsburgh used by more people but less understood than Grant. While most Pittsburghers will erroneously ascribe this namesake to the victorious Civil War lieutenant general Ulysses S. Grant, the actual origin would be one of disastrous defeat a century earlier. A key component of John Forbes’s expedition on Fort Duquesne, Major James Grant led a reconnaissance force of 800 on the French position in September 1758. Consisting primarily of American colonials and the Scottish Seventy-seventh Regiment of Foot (known as Montgomerie’s Highlanders), Grant’s men were met head-on by a joint French-Indian force out of Fort Duquesne that decimated the British expedition. Of the 800 men serving under Grant, there were 342 casualties, the majority of which were suffered by the Highlanders in the form of brutal Indian massacres. The Franco-Indian force saw only 8 killed and 8 wounded. Many officers, including Grant himself, were taken prisoner. It was a total loss for the British. Grant would later blame the colonists of his regiment for being untrained and undisciplined. Major Grant would eventually be freed and go on to battle the American rebels in the Revolution two decades later. The hill on which that fateful battle took place is now the heart of downtown Pittsburgh, aptly named Grant Street.

Following Forbes Avenue into Oakland will inevitably bring one into contact with Bouquet Street. Bouquet, which connects many of the major hot spots of the University of Pittsburgh, stands as a street divided, north and south. Though the roadway is separated, the man, Henry Bouquet, was as decisive as any one person in the early history of the region. Among other attributes, his pension for making sound decisions in compromising situations granted him an indelible legacy in the creation of modern America.

Born in Rolle, Switzerland, Bouquet was a vital part of Forbes’s 1758 expedition and, in many ways, served as unofficial commander of the massive force when the aging and increasingly ill Forbes was unable to continue. When Fort Duquesne was abandoned, it was Colonel Bouquet who served as the first man on the scene, and when Forbes viewed the victory with his own eyes in the days to come, it was Bouquet who was commissioned to raise a permanent garrison at the site. His life was one of duty and obligation, and he led by example as the quintessential soldier, a natural leader courtesy of his unwavering commitment to following orders. In 1763, it was once again Bouquet who was called to order when the Indian peoples of the Ohio Country rose up in rebellion. His tenacity, foresight and resourcefulness manufactured what remains as the only British victory over any Indian force at the Battle of Bushy Run. That triumph single-handedly broke a devastating two-month siege that nearly toppled the mighty Fort Pitt.

For Bouquet, a life of service remained one that was bittersweet. Though he risked more than almost any other officer in the British empire—and, as a man, counted his value by his rank—he would only become general in the final year of his life. He was Swiss by birth, and that right was reserved only for Britons.

The individuals and events mentioned in this prologue will be discussed with much greater detail and care in pages to come. Keep in mind, however, when reading through the following chapters exactly how these individuals are honored today; recall how we remember them. To say that they were instrumental in the design and construction of the modern city of Pittsburgh may be an overstatement, but to say that their legacies are more visible than ever is not. We see them every day.

FORT PITT: A FRONTIER HISTORY

The history of Fort Pitt is one that is often lost on scholars of colonial American history. While it sits hundreds of miles from the places generally associated with the emerging republic—places like Philadelphia, Boston, Charleston and New York—many historians stumble over ascribing value to the goliath fortification. What role did it play in the record of this hopeful nation? Although most view its value as temporary, or as only serving a defining role during the vaunted Seven Years’ War, those familiar with the history of western Pennsylvania see a much different representation.

When asking, What does America mean to Fort Pitt? a simple narrative will emerge that is both familiar and incomplete. It begins with 1758 and ends with 1763. The French and Indian War. Pontiac’s Rebellion. Futility.

However, when asking, What does Fort Pitt mean to America? a much different story emerges. When viewed through the active perspective, one sees not a fort but a symbol of strength and protection on the edge of western civilization. To the people who lived in the region of Fort Pitt, it served as a capital and a physical manifestation of the might of the British empire and, later, of a fledgling United States of America. In the French and Indian War era, its construction was a point of pride for all British subjects, and it reaffirmed that Great Britain was the supreme superpower of the European world. During the American Revolution, however, its occupation by local patriots served a much different purpose. Fort Pitt stood as a much-needed beacon of hope that America had the right, and might, to deal a powerful blow to its overseas oppressors.

The Fort Pitt Museum houses an impressive collection of artifacts documenting 250 years of Pittsburgh’s past. Courtesy Fort Pitt Museum.

In this work, Fort Pitt will be considered at only its most trying times, during those periods most essential to the fundamental development of the American States. There have been many wonderful books written that explain the design and construction of Fort Pitt, yet none of them explores the people who created, maintained and destroyed it. Through an analysis of these men—British, French, American and Indian—an honest portrait of this underappreciated fortress will be painted.

While the ultimate role of Fort Pitt will always serve as a point of debate—and as a Pittsburgher, I admittedly struggle to suppress my own biases—I offer this for consideration, a statement from a note first published in the December 1759 edition of New American Magazine:

The army has been employed in erecting a most formidable fortification; such a one as will to latest posterity secure the British empire on the Ohio. There is no need to enumerate the abilities…nor the spirit shown by the troops in executing this important task, the fort will soon be a lasting monument to both.

CHAPTER 1

HUGH MERCER

CAPABLE OF A TOLERABLE DEFENCE

The following was taken from a letter dated December 26, 1758: When your Works are finished, Would it not be of good Service to you to build a Redout (wth fraises) for 60 men on the Top of the Hill over Monongahela. It would prevent the Ennemies taking Post there and secure a Retreat.¹

It had been weeks since Lieutenant Colonel Hugh Mercer had seen his superior, but in typical fashion, Colonel Henry Bouquet was in constant contact. Though he was a great distance away across the unfamiliar landscape of Pennsylvania, Henry Bouquet’s regular correspondence granted him a complete picture of the progress and obstacles faced by his lone detachment left at the Forks of the Ohio. A month earlier, after a triumphant and bloodless taking of Fort Duquesne led by General John Forbes, Mercer was surprised to receive the duty of remaining behind, along with two hundred others, to build a temporary fortification at the strategic