Follow in the Footsteps of the Founders and Have a Drink Where They Planned the Revolution Over a Few Beers
Taverns, public houses and inns served as meeting places before the war and unofficial headquarters during it. Some still stand—including these nine, where you can raise a glass in memory of the founders
“We held our meetings at the Green Dragon Tavern,” Paul Revere wrote in a letter, “carefull that our meetings should be kept Secret.” Soon-to-be founding fathers and other patriots, like Revere, found great value in the American public house: It was a place to trade stories, to learn of critical world events—and to strategize. They railed against British tyranny, plotted protests against loathsome policy and read aloud from Thomas Paine’s Common Sense or from the Declaration of Independence while sipping toddies. At taverns, militias recruited soldiers, held military tribunals, stored military supplies and rations and hosted patriot groups like the Sons of Liberty. Most taverners supported these gatherings at their establishments because they often felt the crushing British tariffs on raw ingredients for spirits or on printed goods like playing cards. Revolution would be a boon for business.
Today, most Colonial-era taverns are gone, but as our country turns 250, a few stalwart pubs remain, holding the hopes and stories of the Revolutionary Americans who fought to form a democratic nation. As we celebrate America’s independence, consider lifting a foggy beer stein at one of these taverns.
Wright Tavern, Concord, Massachusetts
In October 1774, the First Massachusetts Provincial Congress met in Concord. Samuel Adams and John Hancock began the process of separating the Thirteen Colonies from Britain, made plans to redirect the people’s taxes from the crown to the Provincial Congress and established the idea that the government’s power came from the will of the people. During and after the meeting, some reportedly went right next door to Mr. Taylor’s tavern—now Wright Tavern—to celebrate these bold steps by getting sloshed.
On April 19, 1775, in the wee hours of morning, having been warned of approaching redcoats, Colonial militiamen gathered at the tavern to plan their maneuvers and then left, ending up in the nearby hills. Later that morning, 700 British regulars rode into Concord to capture the colonists’ stockpiled weapons. The redcoats then commandeered Wright Tavern as their headquarters. Today, a replica of a line engraving by the Colonial artisan Amos Doolittle hanging just inside the entrance depicts the British gathering before the tavern.
Did you know? The role of taverns in colonial America
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Taverns were critical political and economic infrastructure in colonial America. As a result, there were a lot of them.
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Colonial Boston alone was home to roughly 150 taverns around the start of the Revolutionary War. That amounted to roughly one tavern for every 100 Bostonians.
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By 1770, New York City hosted around one tavern for every 60 New Yorkers.
When the redcoats met the militiamen at the North Bridge, about a mile down the road, both sides fired, resulting in the first casualties for the crown. Six decades later, Concord native Ralph Waldo Emerson would refer to the instigation of that skirmish as “the shot heard ’round the world.”
By 1793, Wright Tavern had ceased operations, and over the next two centuries the building had dozens of other uses. It was a bakery, a wig manufacturer and a kindergarten, where 195 kids signed the 1864 Little People’s Petition to President Abraham Lincoln, calling for enslaved children to be freed. Today, it is a museum, open to the public Fridays through Sundays, and also hosts private events. In the fall, tavern service will return, so that visitors can enjoy Colonial-era drinks like Stone Fences (rum or rye mixed with applejack and hard cider) and Flip, a rum cocktail made with molasses, spices and a raw egg that was once cooked into a froth with a hot poker from the fireplace. (Wright no longer uses the hot poker.)
Fraunces Tavern, New York City
Many of the original gray-yellow bricks of Fraunces Tavern hold firm with their original 18th-century oyster--shell mortar along Broad Street in Lower Manhattan. When Samuel Fraunces purchased the tavern in 1762, he marked his establishment with a sign bearing Queen Charlotte’s likeness, and the public called it the Queen’s Head Tavern. But inside, royalty was despised. During the 1770s, the Sons of Liberty met at Fraunces to plot out New York’s Tea Party protests. Adams and Hancock visited to devour oysters. And the New York Provincial Congress used Fraunces to host meetings and one court-martial, as well as parties, including a barnburner on June 18, 1776. With George Washington in attendance, they made 31 toasts, drank 109 bottles of wine and paid £91 (equal to around $26,000 today), plus 16 additional shillings for broken wine glasses.
It was also the site of perhaps the biggest party to celebrate Evacuation Day, November 25, 1783, when the British left New York City after more than seven years, marking the end of the war and the birth of a nation. That evening, New York’s Governor George Clinton gave a public dinner at Fraunces Tavern. General Washington joined in 13 toasts to the new nation, to lost heroes, to America’s future as “an asylum to the persecuted of the earth” and to the hope that “this day be a lesson to princes.” Nine days later, Fraunces Tavern hosted a more lachrymose occasion: The patriot spymaster Benjamin Tallmadge recalled the lamentations that followed Washington as the latter left New York to return to Mount Vernon: “Such a scene of sorrow and weeping I had never before witnessed and fondly hope I may never be called to witness again.”
Today, visitors to Fraunces Tavern can toast like Washington with a punch cocktail of rum and whiskey flavored with peach tea and lemon juice, a nod to a time when fresh ingredients were rare.
Ye Olde Centerton Inn, Pittsgrove, New Jersey
Brian Goode and his wife, Joanne, were chefs who had worked at some of New York City’s most famous restaurants—including Le Bernardin and Jean-Georges, respectively. But when the twin towers fell in 2001, they sought a new start outside the city and moved to the town of Elmer, in one of the most rural parts of New Jersey, and in 2003 bought Ye Olde Centerton Inn in nearby Pittsgrove. Built in 1706, the two-story inn was a stop on the stagecoach route from Bridgeton, New Jersey, to Philadelphia, where travelers came for pints and a bed. Based on an 1803 deed, we can determine that the original 18th-century rooms comprise the bar area, the dining room behind it and the second story. The inn may have held munitions for the Continental Army.
Brian Goode recounts the legend that patriot militiamen once killed two loyalists here and buried the bodies under the fireplace. “But there’s no way to substantiate things,” he laments.
Middleton Tavern, Annapolis, Maryland
Traveling from Virginia to Philadelphia was arduous in the 1700s. But meetings of the Continental Congress in the north required Southern delegates to leave their plantations and make the long journey. To trim many hours and miles off the ride, Horatio Middleton’s ferry out of Annapolis, Maryland, offered a shortcut across the Chesapeake Bay. While Middleton claimed in an ad in the Maryland Gazette that “he keeps the best entertainment, as good boats and hands, as any that cross the bay,” boats crossing the bay weren’t so reliable: One ferry carrying George Washington ran aground twice, nearly costing the president his life. Another boat got stuck while ferrying Tench Tilghman, one of Washington’s aides de camp, while he carried surrender documents from British General Charles Cornwallis north to Philadelphia.
As a ferry owner, Middleton needed a tavern where customers could gamble and drink while waiting for passage. In 1750, Middleton purchased a sturdy building erected on a stone foundation, with brick walls and oyster-shell grout. The construction helped the tavern survive a 1938 hurricane and two fires in the 1970s.
In November 1783, Annapolis became the nation’s capital for the better part of a year, and the tavern would have been busy with associates of Benjamin Franklin, one of whom once requested that debtors meet him at the tavern to “make speedy payment.” Middleton’s bustled with members of the Maryland Jockey Club, the Freemasons and the Tuesday Club, a social organization comprising the city’s self-styled elite, such as Middleton’s son Samuel. According to Tuesday Club records, raucous members visited Middleton’s to sing, dance brisk jigs, play music and drink “good rack punch and claret.”
Today, guests can eat like colonists, enjoying daily rockfish offerings and oyster shooters served with cocktail sauce and Natty Boh beer, a Maryland favorite dating back to the first Cleveland administration.
White Horse Tavern, Newport, Rhode Island
Built in 1652, this tavern served in its early days as the meeting place for the Rhode Island Colony’s General Assembly, as well as the city council and the criminal court. By 1702, William Mayes Jr., a notorious pirate who’d prowled the Indian Ocean, succeeded his father as innkeeper and received a license to sell “all sorts of strong drink.” Six years later, the “businessman’s lunch” was supposedly invented there, as councilors began dining at the tavern and charging meals to the public treasury. By 1730, new owners trotted out the tavern’s new sign: an image of a white horse.
During the war, in 1776, the owners left Newport when British troops and loyalist allies turned the White Horse into their accommodations. Today, you won’t see much of a rabble at the White Horse: It’s now an establishment for Newport’s upper crust.
Red Fox Inn & Tavern, Middleburg, Virginia
In 1728, using local fieldstone, Joseph Chinn built Chinn’s Ordinary, a tavern in Middleburg, midway between bustling Alexandria and Winchester, on the Ashby Gap trading route. Being dead center gave rise to the town’s name, Middleburg, when it was chartered in 1787. George Washington was Chinn’s cousin, and when the first president rolled through town to visit family, he might have stayed at the inn—or at least had a drink there.
Chinn’s Ordinary became the Beveridge House in 1812. In the Civil War, it served as a Confederate hospital during the 1863 Gettysburg campaign, and the headquarters for General J.E.B. Stuart, who hatched battle plans upstairs.
Today, visible square nail heads in nonuniform-width floorboards appear consistent with 1800s design.
In 1937, the property was revamped and expanded to become the Red Fox Inn, a more luxurious property surrounding the original tavern, which became popular with the Kennedys. Jackie Kennedy Onassis frequented the inn during her fox-hunting outings.
Griswold Inn, Essex, Connecticut
Beneath a domed ceiling made of horse-hair and crushed clamshells, the Griswold Inn’s tavern boasts a large and handsome collection of maritime art. In the other rooms, there’s an antique firearm collection—and a rich history of chaos and gaiety.
The tavern room began life as a schoolhouse in 1735 but graduated to become a tavern in 1801—though not before townspeople watched the building roll down Main Street on logs pulled by a team of oxen to the tavern’s current location. Owners maintain that the Griswold Inn has been in continuous operation since 1776.
Although none of the famed Revolutionary rabble-rousers are known to have visited the Griswold Inn, the tavern does have a musket that had in its barrel a note from a father to his son, encouraging junior to take up arms and “join ye ranks of ye Washington.”
The Griswold Inn was commandeered by the British during the 1814 raid on Essex. A site of temperance-movement protests (the banners still hang inside), it was also where Frederick Law Olmsted is rumored to have celebrated his commission to design Central Park.
Pirates’ House, Savannah, Georgia
The Pirates’ House consists of a number of conjoined historical buildings, including the Herb House, which is considered the oldest standing structure in the state of Georgia. Built in 1734 on the site of the Trustees’ Garden—the first public experimental garden in the Colonies, where colonists grew cotton and peaches—the Herb House served as the gardener’s accommodations. The Pirates’ House started operating as a tavern in 1753.
Its haint-blue shutters and doors ostensibly ward off ghosts. In the mid-1700s, legends tell, pirates began using tunnels under the tavern to kidnap unwary imbibers, including, per one legend, a local constable.
Pirate associations continued in the next century. It’s said Scottish writer Robert Louis Stevenson’s visit to the Pirates’ House helped inspire his 1883 novel Treasure Island. Pages from an early edition of the novel are on display in a tavern chamber known as the Treasure Room.
A Man Full of Trouble, Philadelphia
During the mid-20th century, many buildings in Philadelphia’s Society Hill were razed amid a fever for redevelopment: Up went skyscrapers and modern brick homes. But just off the corner of Second and Spruce Streets sits an odd little stand-alone building with tilting brick walls. While Philadelphia is estimated to have had more than 100 taverns during the Colonial period, A Man Full of Trouble, founded in 1759, is the only one surviving from that time.
For the second half of the 20th century and into the new millennium, the property languished in despair, serving as a museum of the Revolution and later as spartan housing for visiting scholars and students from the University of Pennsylvania.
Dan Wheeler, an attorney and real estate investor, bought the building in 2021 and opened it to the public in December 2024.
The tavern serves drinks from a bar in the precise location where one had stood during the Revolutionary War and brought in Succession Fermentory, a rural Pennsylvania brewery, to pour its farmhouse brews.
In the 1830s, William Breton made the first known painting of A Man Full of Trouble, in watercolor. But as you peruse the artifacts that Wheeler has gathered in the tavern’s second-floor museum—including period muskets and one of the oldest printings of the United States Constitution, printed on nearby Front Street—it’s easy to imagine patriots within these walls, whispering plans for the impending war.
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