James Monroe

In addition to being known as the Old Dominion, our fair commonwealth has long laid claim to the distinction "Mother of Presidents." After all, eight chief executives drew first breath here in Virginia, including four of the first five. Of that quartet, three are so well-known (or should be) to every American — Washington, the indispensable one; Jefferson, who proved that, in times of conflict, the pen can be as mighty as the sword; and Madison, architect of the Constitution — that we need not identify them with their first names.

But what of the fourth member of that august group? For some reason, he is often overlooked. He came into this world precisely 250 years ago yesterday, in Westmoreland County. But, as indicated by the following story, courtesy of former Secretary of the Army John O. Marsh by way of Shenandoah University political science professor Bill Shendow, he almost left it in the flower of teenage youth.

Mr. Marsh's story takes us back to perhaps the darkest hours of an infant nation - Christmas night 1776 - when Washington decided desperate times demanded desperate measures. The general would take his tattered army, huddled on the Pennsylvania shore, across the Delaware River, and boldly strike at the Hessians comfortably ensconced in the New Jersey capital of Trenton. A victory there, Washington thought, might reinvigorate hope in a flagging cause.

One of the first detachments across the river was a small 50-man reconnaissance force led by Capt. William Washington, a distant cousin of the commander. Capt. Washington had but one other officer to assist him, a fuzzy-cheeked 18-year-old volunteer from the Third Virginia Regiment - that boy from Westmoreland County.

As this small contingent pushed toward Trenton on Christmas night, they inadvertently aroused the occupants of a farmhouse. The head of this household was a patriot and a doctor, John Riker, who volunteered his medical services to the party.

As the Americans slammed into Trenton, the Hessians, groggy from holiday cheer, managed to deploy two howitzers in the middle of town. Capt. Washington and his young lieutenant led an attack on the guns. Both men suffered wounds, but the one sustained by the teen was more serious. A musket ball ripped into his left shoulder, cutting an artery. He would have bled to death in the street, if not for the quick action of the physician, Dr. Riker, the small unit just happened to pick up along the way.

If one believes Divine Providence played a role in the birth of this nation and in its future, consider this: The youngster Dr. Riker saved was Lt. James Monroe, fourth member of that presidential quartet.

From the pages of history, we know the rest of the story — how the young lieutenant recovered from his potentially fatal wound to become a U.S. senator, governor of Virginia, a signer of the treaty granting the United States the Louisiana Purchase, secretary of State under Madison, and, finally, a two-term president. His tenure in the White House was marked by the "Era of Good Feelings" among the political partisans of the day and, of course, his eponymous "doctrine" of 1823, through which he informed the European powers that the Americas were off-limits to colonization.

As an addendum to his remarks about Monroe, Mr. Marsh asked, "What shall the nation do to honor him" on his 250th birthday? Remembering him as the fine man — and Virginian — he was would be a start.