History sometimes hinges on a single, rarely heralded act of courage. America’s revolutionary vote for independence in 1776 came down to one man, one vote, and one stormy night. That was Caesar Rodney’s moment.
He rode alone through the darkness, stricken with cancer, struggling to breathe, soaked by storm and sweat. Thunder cracked above him. Caesar Rodney of Delaware had no time to spare. If he didn’t reach Philadelphia by morning, the vote for American independence might fail. And with it, the cause of liberty itself.
This Independence Day, as Americans gather to grill burgers, wave flags, and watch fireworks burst above them, it’s worth remembering that the freedom we celebrate was not inevitable. It came not just from high-minded ideals written on parchment, but from the grit and sacrifice of individuals determined to see liberty proclaimed against long-shot odds.
Rodney’s ride is a reminder that liberty is not forged in comfort or convenience. It is earned in moments when ordinary people choose to act despite the cost.
In July 1776, the Second Continental Congress met to decide whether the 13 colonies would remain loyal subjects of King George III or risk their lives, fortunes, and sacred honor for the dream of liberty and self-government. The room was stifling, the tension unbearable, and the stakes nothing short of revolutionary.
Though Rodney was a duly appointed delegate, he had been delayed in Delaware, caught between managing civil unrest, fulfilling his duties as militia commander, and battling advanced facial cancer that made travel painful.
In Philadelphia, the delegates cast a preliminary vote on independence. Nine colonies stood in favor of breaking from Britain; four remained opposed. It was progress, but far from victory. The stakes were too high for a divided front.
Everyone in the room knew that unless all 13 colonies stood as one, the Crown would exploit the division and unravel the cause. As Benjamin Franklin would put it later: “We must, indeed, all hang together, or most assuredly we shall all hang separately.” Unity wasn’t just preferred – it was essential to survival.
Delaware’s three-member delegation was divided. Thomas McKean supported independence, while George Read opposed it. A split vote would’ve left Delaware abstaining. The revolutionaries needed Delaware’s support in the next day’s official vote to demonstrate momentum. It was the only way to show those who were hesitant that they could break from the most powerful empire on earth and do so together.
Rodney was the only man who could break the tie. He was also 80 miles away. But when he received word late in the evening from McKean, he understood the gravity of the moment. Independence was hanging by a thread.
What followed was a brutal, all-night journey through suffocating summer heat, pounding rain, and flooded roads that had turned to sludge. Rodney rode alone, coughing, soaked to the bone, pushing through pain with every mile as lightning split the sky and thunder shook the earth. Wracked by illness and exhaustion, he pressed on because he knew the fate of the nascent nation hung in the balance. He arrived in Philadelphia at dawn, mud-splattered and breathless, just as the delegates were reconvening.
His vote tipped the scale. Delaware joined those calling for revolution and, miraculously, the other holdout colonies followed Rodney, making the vote for independence unanimous. Shortly after, the Declaration of Independence was formally adopted.
Rodney never sought glory for his ride, and he died in relative obscurity. It wasn’t until President Donald Trump signed a proclamation honoring Rodney in 2020 that his story began resurfacing.
As Trump noted, Rodney was one of many Founding Fathers whose memories and legacies were then being slandered and denigrated by the Black Lives Matter movement and the left-wing effort to “reimagine” American history. Delaware Democrats tore down a statue of their state’s most famous Founding Father in Rodney Square in Wilmington – as Trump put it, “part of an ongoing, radical purge of America’s founding generation.”
Ironically, however, the left’s attempts to cancel Caesar Rodney have only further elevated his status as a national hero. Just like rain, wind, and cancer could not keep Rodney from his date with destiny, left-wing efforts to “cancel” America’s heroes will not succeed.
In our modern age obsessed with comfort, convenience, and celebrity, Rodney’s story reminds us that freedom is not the result of ease. It is purchased by effort and preserved by character. He didn’t wait for history to call on him at a convenient moment. He answered the call at personal cost, because that’s what duty required.
This is a lesson our nation desperately needs to remember this Independence Day.
The same revolutionary spirit that animated Rodney’s ride flickers dimly in some of our countrymen as we contest the burdens of federal government bloat, cynicism, and bureaucratic drift. We are a nation born in the rejection of tyranny, yet today we tolerate a federal Leviathan far more intrusive than King George ever dreamed. In the years ahead, we will be called on in our individual capacities to follow the example of the founding generation if we expect to preserve our republic.
This is why the recent efforts by Republicans and President Donald Trump to restore constitutional balance – by returning power to states and localities, securing borders, unshackling the economy, and reviving civic education—are so critical. They are not “radical.” They are restorative. They are about reclaiming the republic Caesar Rodney risked everything to preserve.
The same courage Rodney showed in 1776 is needed today, not on a battlefield, but in school board meetings, courtrooms, town halls, and voting booths. Courage to speak the truth in a culture addicted to moral relativism. Courage to protect the unborn, to defend free speech, and to reassert the authority of the Constitution.
So, as the fireworks crackle overhead this Fourth of July weekend, take a moment to remember not just Jefferson and Washington, but Caesar Rodney, the obscure, sickly patriot who refused to let his colony be counted absent. His midnight ride was not just a journey to Philadelphia. It was a ride into history, into legend, and into the heart of what it means to be an American.
Rodney didn’t ask for credit. He just did his duty. That spirit is still alive in America, but only if we choose to live it.
W.J. Lee has served in the White House, NASA, on multiple political campaigns, and in nearly all levels of government. In his free time, he enjoys the “three R’s” – reading, running, and writing.
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