An Almost Forgotten Signer of the Declaration of Independence
History is full of people both little known and unknown who were present at important events. They may have participated, or they may simply have been observers. Understanding them, their lives and their involvement can help us to understand the human aspect of historical events. This is what I love most about history, the stories of average people.
Not long ago, I was looking at a copy of a broadside of the Declaration of Independence when I noticed an intriguing signature — Button Gwinnett. He is one of the lesser-known signers of the Declaration of Independence, yet he played a significant role in the early political landscape of Georgia. His life was a blend of ambition and political maneuvering. His dramatic rise and fall remain intriguing to historians. Even though Gwinnett is little remembered today, his story offers a glimpse into the turbulent period of America’s founding.
Early Life and Migration to America
Button Gwinnett was born in 1735 in Down Hatherley, Gloucestershire, England. He was the son of an Anglican vicar and was named after his mother’s cousin Barbara Button who was also his godmother.
While details about his early education are scarce, it is believed that he received a basic education typical of the English gentry. Gwinnett’s early adulthood was marked by modest success as a merchant. In the 1760s, facing limited opportunities in England and the promise of economic prosperity in the American colonies, Gwinnett and his wife, Ann, emigrated to the New World.
Initially, Gwinnett settled in Charleston, South Carolina, where he engaged in trade. However, he struggled financially, and by 1765, he had relocated to Savannah, Georgia. This move marked not only the beginning of his political career, but also a period of fluctuating fortune. Gwinnett purchased St. Catherine’s Island off the coast of Georgia, hoping to become a successful plantation owner. Unfortunately, he overextended himself financially, and his attempts to establish a profitable business met with failure. Despite his financial setbacks, Gwinnett’s status as a landowner and merchant allowed him to enter the local political scene.
Rise in Politics and Revolutionary Activity
Gwinnett’s involvement in politics grew as tensions between the American colonies and Britain escalated. By the early 1770s, he had become aligned with the growing revolutionary sentiment. In 1775, he was elected to Georgia’s Provincial Congress, where he quickly rose to prominence due to his vocal support for independence from British rule. Although Georgia had initially shown less enthusiasm for independence than colonies like Massachusetts or Virginia, a growing faction of Georgia patriots, including Gwinnett, began advocating for stronger opposition to British rule. By 1776, Gwinnett had become a delegate to the Second Continental Congress.
Continental Congress and the Declaration
On January 20, 1776, Gwinnett left Georgia for Philadelphia to represent the colony in Congress. This appointment marked the pinnacle of his political career and placed him at the center of the deliberations for American independence. His journey to Philadelphia came at a crucial moment when the Continental Congress was moving toward a formal declaration of independence.
Gwinnett voted for independence on July 2, voted to approve the declaration on July 4, and signed his name to the parchment of the Declaration of Independence on August 2. Out of the 56 delegates who signed the Declaration, Button was one of only 8 who were born in Britain. His British birth added a unique perspective to his role as a Founding Father, representing the immigrant experience that was central to colonial American society.
His signing of the Declaration of Independence would later make his signature one of the most valuable autographs in American history. Gwinnett is known chiefly because his autographs are extremely rare and collectors have paid dearly to obtain one. (In 2001 one of his 36 known autographs sold at public auction for $110,000. Since then, several others have been documented.)
Conflict and Power Struggles in Georgia
Back in Georgia, Gwinnett became embroiled in a power struggle with General Lachlan McIntosh, a prominent figure in the colony’s revolutionary army. The conflict between Gwinnett and McIntosh was fueled by political rivalry and personal animosity. Gwinnett aspired to leadership positions within Georgia’s government and military, and in March 1777, he became acting president of Georgia’s Revolutionary Council after the sudden death of Governor Archibald Bulloch.
During his brief tenure as acting council president, Gwinnett’s leadership was controversial. He proposed a bold military expedition against British-controlled East Florida, intending to bolster his political standing and secure Georgia’s borders. However, the campaign was poorly executed, and it ended in failure. This debacle intensified the feud between Gwinnett and McIntosh, with each blaming the other for the military defeat.
Gwinnett’s promising political career was cut short by an ongoing personal conflict that became intertwined with the honor culture of the American South. The rivalry between Gwinnett and McIntosh reached its climax in May 1777. After a series of public insults—McIntosh called Gwinnett a “scoundrel and lying rascal,” Gwinnett responded by challenging him to a duel. Dueling, though technically illegal, was still a common way to resolve disputes among gentlemen of the period. On May 16, 1777, the two men faced each other with pistols in a pasture near Savannah. Both were wounded, but only Gwinnett’s injuries proved fatal. He died three days later, at age 42, and was buried in Savannah’s Colonial Park Cemetery, though the exact location of his grave is still unknown.
Legacy and Historical Significance
Gwinnett’s legacy is visible in his namesake Gwinnett County, one of Georgia’s most populous counties, a tribute to his contributions to the state’s early political history.
In recent decades, historians have taken a renewed interest in Button Gwinnett, examining his role beyond the narrow context of his duel and signature. While he lacked the fame of other founding fathers, Gwinnett’s political maneuvering and his role during the revolutionary period highlight the complexities of early American politics. His rivalry with McIntosh reflects the deep divisions and regional conflicts that existed even among those who supported independence.
Gwinnett’s life also underscores the risks faced by those who ventured into the revolutionary cause. Unlike many of his contemporaries who enjoyed long, celebrated careers, Gwinnett’s story is one of a meteoric rise and abrupt fall. His legacy, while overshadowed by more prominent figures, is a reminder of the many lesser-known men and women who played vital roles in America’s fight for independence.
Button Gwinnett’s life was marked by ambition, conflict, and an untimely death that left him as one of the more obscure figures of the American Revolution. His contributions to the independence movement in Georgia were significant, even if his political career was cut short. Today, Gwinnett’s name lives on in Georgia’s geography, and his autograph serves as a rare artifact of a fleeting yet impactful moment in history.
Sources:
· National Archives: Declaration of Independence Signers – https://www.archives.gov/founding-docs/signers
· The Georgia Historical Society: Biography of Button Gwinnett – https://georgiahistory.com
· Smithsonian Magazine: The Rare Autograph of Button Gwinnett – https://www.smithsonianmag.com
· Library of Congress: Early American Biographies – https://www.loc.gov
America at 250: A Revolution Remembered, Forgotten — or Rewritten?
By John Turley
On June 1, 2026
In Commentary, History
I’m old enough to remember the 200th anniversary of the American Revolution. Bicentennial symbols were everywhere — Liberty Bells, eagles, and that ubiquitous red, white, and blue stylized five-point star logo slapped on hats, T-shirts, socks, soft drink cups, beer cans, and even a special “Spirit of ’76” edition of the Ford Mustang II. Commemorative events were springing up everywhere, and people had full-blown bicentennial fever.
The 250th anniversary is a different animal entirely. Even the official name — Semiquincentennial — sounds like something you’d need a medical degree to pronounce. But the tongue-twisting label is the least of its problems.
The bicentennial came after a decade of national trauma: Vietnam, Watergate, and the civil rights struggles had left the country battered. By 1976, most Americans were ready to feel good about themselves again, and the bicentennial became a giant, colorful celebration of “American resilience.” The 250th arrives in a different kind of trauma — one that is arguably more confusing because it comes dressed as patriotism.
A Celebration Gets Complicated
While the 250th is being marked by numerous events, commemorations, and official proclamations, it has not yet captured the national imagination the way 1976 did. The official nonpartisan U.S. Semiquincentennial Commission, established by Congress in 2016 and supported by both George W. Bush and Barack Obama as Honorary Co-Chairs, has been working toward what it calls the “largest and most inclusive” anniversary celebration in American history. But its efforts have increasingly been overshadowed — and, critics argue, undermined — by a parallel White House effort with a very different philosophy about what American history should look like.
Shortly after taking office in January 2025, President Trump signed an executive order titled “Celebrating America’s 250th Birthday,” creating his own body — Task Force 250 — to coordinate anniversary plans and promising “a grand celebration worthy of the momentous occasion.” A full year of festivities was planned, beginning on Memorial Day 2025 and running through July 4, 2026. On paper, more attention on the anniversary sounds like good news. In practice, the story is more complicated.
When “Restoring History” Means Removing It
Two months after launching his anniversary task force, Trump signed a second executive order — this one titled “Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History” — directing Vice President Vance to eliminate what the order calls “divisive race-centered ideology” from Smithsonian museums, educational and research centers, and the National Zoo (the Zoo??). The Smithsonian, one of the world’s great repositories of American history, was accused by the president of having come “under the influence of a divisive, race-centered ideology” that portrayed “American and Western values as inherently harmful and oppressive.”
That executive order set off a chain of events that has complicated the 250th anniversary in ways the founding fathers would have found darkly ironic, given that the Revolution was, at its core, a fight against the arbitrary exercise of executive power.
At Philadelphia’s Independence National Historical Park — one of the most historically significant sites in the country — National Park Service employees abruptly removed exhibits about the nine people George Washington held in slavery while Philadelphia served as the nation’s capital. Passersby reportedly heard an employee repeating, “I’m just following orders” as the displays came down. The city of Philadelphia promptly sued the federal government, arguing that the removal violated a cooperative agreement for the site’s development.
This wasn’t an isolated incident. According to reporting from Poynter and PEN America, National Park Service employees were ordered to survey all signage and interpretive materials across the nation’s 400-plus parks and monuments, flagging anything “negative about either past or living Americans.” Exhibits about slavery, Indigenous history, women’s rights, and climate change were all swept into the review. At Fort Sumter in South Carolina — where the Civil War began — even a sign explaining the risks the site faces from rising sea levels was removed.
The Interior Department issued a November 2025 memo ordering National Park Service gift shops to remove items promoting DEI or “gender expression.” Free admission days that had previously honored Martin Luther King Jr. Day and Juneteenth were dropped; June 14 — Flag Day and President Trump’s birthday (does anyone thinks that’s a coincidence?) — was added instead.
Meanwhile, a proposed commemorative dollar coin design featured President Trump on the obverse and the words “Fight! Fight! Fight!” on the reverse — evoking the imagery from the July 2024 assassination attempt. The Commission of Fine Arts, whose members Trump dismissed in October 2025 and replaced with his own appointees, subsequently recommended the design.
The Money Problem
The nonpartisan America250 Commission hasn’t just faced ideological headwinds. It has also faced financial ones. By early 2026, the Commission had received only $25 million of its congressionally appropriated $150 million, with the remainder at risk of being redirected to Trump-aligned Freedom 250’s “Freedom Trucks” — six state-of-the-art mobile museums traveling the country telling a version of American history that aligns with the administration’s vision. Representative Bonnie Watson Coleman raised concerns about the funding diversion, though the Commission stated it had enough to continue its core programming.
What Actually Happened at Lexington and Concord
Against this backdrop, the 250th anniversary of the Battles of Lexington and Concord on April 19, 2025, became a preview of what the full anniversary might look like. The battle reenactments drew large crowds, along with protesters carrying signs reading “No Kings” and “Resist Like It’s 1775,” explicitly drawing parallels between opposition to King George III and what they saw as autocratic tendencies in current leadership.
Massachusetts Governor Maura Healey told the crowd at the North Bridge ceremony that “we see things that would be familiar to our Revolutionary predecessors — the silencing of critics, the disappearing people from our streets, demands for unquestioned fealty.” Whether one agrees with that characterization or not, the spectacle of Americans invoking the Revolution to oppose their own government at a Revolution commemoration is at minimum historically interesting — and arguably points to the enduring vitality of Revolutionary ideals.
Historians have noted that the Revolution itself was messier and more ambiguous than either side of today’s debate wants to acknowledge. As University of South Carolina professor Woody Holton observed, most colonists in April 1775 weren’t seeking independence — they wanted better treatment within the British Empire and a return to pre-1763 arrangements. The revolution was improvised, contentious, and full of people who disagreed about its meaning even while it was happening. Sound familiar?
The Founding Fathers Were Not a Monolith
Here is what is genuinely troubling about selectively sanitizing Revolutionary history: the founders themselves would not have recognized the sanitized version. George Washington, the hero of the Revolution, held people in slavery, including at the presidential residence in Philadelphia — the very site where exhibits were just torn down. Benjamin Franklin, who helped draft the Declaration of Independence, owned enslaved people and only became an abolitionist late in his life. Thomas Jefferson wrote “all men are created equal” while holding more than 600 people in bondage over his lifetime.
Removing this history doesn’t honor the founders. It patronizes them by pretending their contradictions didn’t exist — and it patronizes us by suggesting we can’t handle the full truth. Even they recognized the contradictions. The founders were brilliant, flawed, and human. That’s what makes the Revolution worth studying.
Resistance in the Courts and in the Institutions
It’s worth noting that the administration’s efforts have met significant resistance. Federal courts have blocked some removals. Scholars, activists, and historians have pushed back forcefully. A coalition of groups filed suit in February 2026 arguing that the Interior Department’s mandate to strip historical information from national parks violated the Administrative Procedure Act. Philadelphia’s lawsuit over the Washington slavery exhibit is ongoing.
Northwestern University historian Leslie M. Harris, author of five books on American slavery, has said that no previous presidential administration has interfered with historic sites in this way, and warned of a potential long-term consequence: public distrust of government-maintained historical sites, or outright avoidance of them.
What We Can Do
I wrote earlier about a friend on the West Virginia 250th committee who told me their initial meeting accomplished nothing and, almost two years later, they’ve had not had a further meeting. They have only just in the past few weeks announced their plans for America 250. That’s disappointing, but in some ways, it underscores the larger point: the commemoration of this anniversary is going to be shaped by whoever shows up.
Here in West Virginia, we showed what’s possible when citizens take the lead. In October 2024, without any state or national organizational or financial help, the City of Point Pleasant and the West Virginia Sons of the American Revolution organized a commemoration of the 250th anniversary of the Battle of Point Pleasant — a battle many consider a precursor to the Revolution. It worked. People came. History was honored.
We can do more of that. We don’t need to live in Massachusetts to commemorate Lexington and Concord. We don’t need federal approval to mark the signing of the Declaration of Independence, the Battle of Saratoga, or the crossing of the Delaware. We don’t need the government’s permission to tell complete history — including the parts about who was left out and who fought to be included anyway.
All across the country, individuals and small groups are working to recognize the revolution. In West Virginia, we’ve organized commemorations of the Boston Tea Party, the 250th anniversary of the founding of the Continental Navy and the Continental Marines, George Washington’s Birthday, and a special America 250 Memorial Day service at the West Virginia Veterans Memorial, all without any governmental support or funding. There have been presentations at local libraries and civic groups about the lives of average people during the time of the revolution, the origin of the American flag and even demonstrations of cooking and foods from the time of the revolution. If we had waited for state or national support these activities never would have happened. Just because your event may be small doesn’t mean it’s unimportant.
The Revolution, after all, was not a government program. It was a citizen uprising.
The Stakes
The American Revolution matters to world history precisely because it planted ideas — self-governance, the rule of law, the consent of the governed, the equality of all people before the law — that were genuinely radical ideas in 1776 and remain contested in much of the world today. Those ideas were aspirational when they were written. They remain aspirational now. The gap between the ideal and the reality is not a reason to hide the history; it is the history.
If the 250th anniversary is remembered primarily as a moment when the federal government selectively curated which parts of the founding era the public was allowed to encounter, that will itself become a significant historical footnote — and not a flattering one.
It will be our great shame if we allow the commemoration of an event so significant in both American and world history to be used — by anyone, of any political stripe — to divide us rather than to strengthen our common bond. The Revolution was imperfect, contentious, and incomplete. So is the republic it created. That is not a cause for despair. It is a call to engagement and improvement.
We the people. Still the operative phrase.
Illustration generated by author using ChatGPT.
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Sources