America 250: Franklin as printer

Who was a Founding Father, scientist, diplomat, and inventor of time travel? Benjamin Franklin, of course! The time travel bit is disputed. But he did invent the glass harmonica, which is arguably more impressive. In 1718, young Franklin was stuck in Boston, dreaming of the day when he could sail away and begin a long and fruitful career as a… Well, he didn't know what. His father wanted him to be a cutler. But Ben didn't want to make spoons his whole life. Or forks. Or sporks — another brilliant invention he didn't create. He liked books. He wanted to be a printer. His brother James had a printing shop and took him on as an apprentice. Ben delighted in access to reading materials. He soon argued with "another bookish lad," John Collins. The subject? Female education. Collins argued that it was improper. Girls, he said, had cooties. Franklin, partially from conviction and partially from "for dispute's sake," argued the contrary. He marshalled his arguments into three or four letters. "There are at least 22 other letters in the alphabet," his father, Josiah, observed. "Oh," said Franklin. "That's one," said the father. Without taking a side, Josiah told the boy that his writing lacked "elegance of expression." Ben had already come to the same conclusion. The lad found a volume of "The Spectator," an English magazine published by Joseph Addison and Richard Steele. He rewrote its articles from memory, as well as converting stories to verse, then back to prose. His writing improved. He studied in the mornings and evenings, and stopped attending church to write. He also became a vegetarian, using the money he saved on meat to buy more books. He discovered tofu — really! — grammar, rhetoric, and the Socratic method. He argued more, delighting in an inquiring, doubting style, and began to further question religion. In 1721, when Benjamin was about 15, James began publishing a newspaper, "The New-England Courant." The younger Franklin had tried without success to get pieces published. Ben decided to disguise his handwriting and slip letters under the printing-house's door, using a pen name. Something subtle. Something believable. Something like… Silence Dogood. Incredibly, James and his colleagues bought it. They were not the brightest bulbs on the Christmas tree. They published 14 letters before Ben revealed the deception. He was not a Dogoody two-shoes. James, obviously, wasn't pleased. He even beat Benjamin. This didn't get him in trouble. Then he published a piece offensive to the Boston Assembly. They sent him to jail for a month. Colonial justice at its finest. The Assembly also ordered that James Franklin should no longer print "The New-England Courant." But it didn't say anything about Benjamin printing it. Loopholes, loopholes. To avoid legal trouble for having an apprentice print his paper for him, James released Ben from his old indenture. For those wondering, an indenture has nothing to do with artificial teeth. Was this freedom? Not quite. James made his brother a new, private indenture. But Benjamin was tired of it. He asserted his independence. "When in the course of human events…" he began. "Wait a second. It's only 1723," said James. Unless Franklin invented time travel — which many historians claim isn't so—he'd have to wait to use that line. "I quit," he concluded. Or something along those lines. I wouldn't know. I wasn't there. Was I? When James discovered his brother was leaving him, he went to every printing-house in Boston and convinced their masters not to employ Benjamin. What a brotherly love kind of guy. Boston was not full of the brotherly love types, either. The Assembly was a bunch of humorless and very religious politicians. Franklin was not. Humorless and very religious, I mean. He worried his beliefs would get him into a scrape. At any rate, they weren't paying rent. The nearest place for a printer's employment was New York. His friend Collins—remember him? Girls? Cooties?—arranged for his passage on a sloop. Franklin sold some of his books to raise funds for the voyage. He arrived in New York three days later, 17 years old, without any recommendations, knowledge of the people, or money. So, in a word, he fit right in. – Copyright 2026 Alexandra Paskhaver, distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons newspaper syndicate. Alexandra Paskhaver is a software engineer and writer. Both jobs require knowing where to stick semicolons, but she's never quite; figured; it; out. For more information, check out her website at https://apaskhaver.github.io.