Timeless Wisdom: George and Ben and Me Adventures as a History Writer By Randy Petersen
M
y agent came to me with a great idea. “Did you know that Ben Franklin and George Whitefield were friends? Somebody should write a book about that.”
If you don’t know the name George Whitefield, you’re not alone. He was the British preacher who captivated the American colonies in the mid-1700s. Historians talk about the Great Awakening, a religious revival that paved the way for the American Revolution. Whitefield (pronounced Whitfield) was its driving force. For a few decades he was probably the most famous person in the colonies, even more notable than Franklin, but the following centuries have not been very attentive to him. One book title calls him “America’s forgotten founding father.” But I knew Whitefield vaguely from some past writing projects, so my agent’s idea perked my interest. Living in the Philadelphia area most of my life, I knew all about Franklin, but I never knew these two men were friends. I agreed that there might be a story to tell.
Gazette, where he often reported on the preacher’s appearances. History has also preserved much of the correspondence of both men, so I was able to find about a dozen letters that passed between them. There are business conversations and personal notes, congratulations, and thanks — as well as Whitefield’s relentless attempts to convert Franklin. So there was some kind of friendship there, with plenty of angles for me to explore. But was I the one to do it?
Crisis of Confidence
With my agent’s help, I put together a book proposal that highlighted my meager historical credentials. To my surprise and delight, the proposal was accepted. And then I had a crisis of confidence. The more I read books by historians about either one of these men, the more I worried. I was not really a historian. How could I hope to compete with these experts?
Might is the important word there. First I had to dig into history to see whether they did in fact know each other, and how well. Then there was the question of significance. How did their friendship affect anything else they did? Why should we care?
My family gave me good advice: Be who you are. What unique thing could I bring to the table? How could my book be different from the others? That inspired me to do a sort of personal inventory.
Finding the Connection
I was an experienced writer with an enjoyable style. Some of the historical books I was reading were stuffy, hard to read. My book could be fun.
I didn’t have to look far to find evidence of the connection. In his autobiography, Franklin devotes several pages to his remembrances of this preacher. This includes a few droll stories about Whitefield’s powerful speaking voice and his ability to raise money. And in that same book, Ben says he once invited George to stay in the Franklin home. Before he was a statesman or a scientist, Ben Franklin made his living as a printer. This was how he first connected with George Whitefield. There was a huge market for the preacher’s journals, sermons, and autobiography. Franklin kept these in print, and he made a good bit of money on them. Franklin also ran a major newspaper, the Pennsylvania
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I was a Philadelphian, with an organic understanding of Franklin, but also a Christian, with an appreciation of Whitefield’s message. Perhaps I could treat both men evenhandedly. Some of the books I read about Whitefield seemed to have a political agenda. I didn’t. I was also a theater guy. A few years earlier, I got a master’s degree in theater at Villanova University. (At that time, I called it my midlife crisis. Hey, some men buy sports cars. I got a degree, and it proved very valuable.) The strength of the Villanova program is dramaturgy — essentially the study