Mythology and facts get jumbled when you puzzle out the original landing by the English Pilgrims at the Plymouth area of Massachusetts. Let’s let it go as Nov. 11, 1620, on Plymouth Rock. They were English passenger settlers on the good ship Mayflower en route from the Netherlands. There were 102 of them and half of them died that first New England winter. That’s a pretty good description of a disaster as had almost been the case at Jamestown, Va., 13 years earlier.

But both these pioneering ventures survived the succeeding years. British explorers of the early 17th century were implacable.

The site they chose had cold, but not yet freezing, nights. Unlike anything they’d ever experienced in England or Europe, the tree leaves blazed with color, oaks, birches, all kinds of maples, hickory trees with foliage vivid in browns, russets, orange, yellow, scarlet, green. Who knew that nearly 400 years later tourists would travel thousands of miles to view this scenery?

The Pilgrims had arrived and were joyful hundreds of miles north of their original destination, the mouth of the Hudson River.

They’d made a famous compact while still aboard ship that outlined their civil government and comported with progress in Protestant communities worldwide.

Their approach to life was infused with religion. They were happy to be there or anywhere for that matter. They were diplomatic and lucky at first. The thousands of resident Indians could so easily have killed them all and rid themselves of this nuisance. The Pilgrims paid the Indians for their first food, corn, which few of them had ever seen before.

Thus began a remarkable first year. Within 11 months, they planted and harvested corn, beans, squash, barley and peas. Shot ducks and geese that migrated through; caught bass, blue fish and cod.

For better or worse, Plymouth was to be their center. They discovered superior locations (the place that would someday be Boston, for instance) but by then they were dug in and situated among the Pokanoket tribe in an amiable arrangement at Plymouth. All of New England was laced with native Americans, some warlike but intelligently led by sachems. It’s a complex amazing story of mutual accommodation unduplicated elsewhere in what eventually became the United States.

Anyway, after the passage of 11 months, Gov. Bradford proclaimed a “day to rejoice together.” Not “to give thanks together” but “to rejoice together.”

As it turned out, it was akin to a middle ages harvest festival with American Indian trimmings. They dragged out some furniture but not nearly enough. The event was held outdoors. There were numerous Indian-type ground fires with meat turning on spits. The Pokanokets supplied five deer and about 100 of them attended. There were no table cloths and few tables.

Guests sat on the ground or squatted or stood. No forks. They arrived from Europe later. Just knives and fingers. All available Pilgrims were present, perhaps 50. No pumpkins or cranberries.

There were porridge pots into which meat and vegetables were tossed, stewing away. Plenty of turkeys, which were large, wild and tracked in the snow.

Oh, it had to be a happy scene. A lot of nastiness was in prospect, but this was indeed a time to rejoice. There’s never been such a plenitude of foods to choose among. Where can you buy a meal to match it today?

Welling up in every heart beating in every breast at Plymouth that September-October day had to be this exultation, “Great God Almighty. We’re alive! We’re alive! We’re alive!!!”

Footnote: Much of the detailing in this piece comes from a splendid new book called, “Mayflower,” by Nathaniel Philbrick – A Penguin Book.

Attorney Austin Cunningham has been the president of five business companies and in 1988 was named Outstanding Elder Citizen of the Year for South Carolina.

You must be logged in to comment.