John and Nancy Lankenau - An Ingenious Excuse

Copyright 2020 John and Nancy Lankenau

Little Creek Press

A Division of Kristin Mitchell Design, Inc.

5341 Sunny Ridge Road

Mineral Point, Wisconsin 53565

Book Design and Project Coordination:

Little Creek Press

First Edition

August 2020

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the authors.

Printed in the United States of America

For more information or to order books:

visit www.littlecreekpress.com

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020912833

ISBN-13: 978-1-942586-82-1

Front cover art: John Neagle, Pat Lyon at the Forge (1826-27), Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

Back cover art: Wm. Birch & Son, Goal, in Walnut Street Philadelphia (1799).

Many thanks to accessible digital libraries and the

dedicated professionals of the Historical Society of

Pennsylvania, the Pennsylvania Historical and Museum

Commission, the Philadelphia City Archives, the American

Philosophical Society, the Library of Congress, the Supreme

Court of Pennsylvania, the Historical Collections of Christ

Church, the archives of FamilySearch, and the Temple

University Libraries. The archivists and librarians of

these institutions preserve history for all of us.

Without them, this story could not be told.

Any honest man must consider his character as the most inestimable treasure in his possession, and of which he ought to be a vigilant guardian.

Patrick Lyon

T his is the true story of how an aspiring young immigrant, framed for the first great American bank robbery, uses the spirit of independence to stand up against the rich and powerful. It begins in Philadelphia on the night of September 1, 1798. The people and events in this story are real.

How do we know so much about something that happened back in 1798? Patrick Lyon, the blacksmith charged in the robbery of the Bank of Pennsylvania, wrote while imprisoned at the Walnut Street Jail. His writings are published as The narrative of Patrick Lyon.

Samuel Fox, the president of the Bank of Pennsylvania, wrote his own explanation of events about the robbery. His narrative is included as an entry in the Bank of Pennsylvania Stockholder Minutes. Although unpublished, these papers are preserved in the collections of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania.

Two detailed accounts of the trial remain. Notes taken in shorthand by independent reporter Thomas Lloyd are published as the Robbery of the Bank of Pennsylvania in 1798. Handwritten trial notes of Justice Jasper Yeates are kept in the collections of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania. His records of the proceedings are surprisingly readable.

These and other firsthand accounts, as well as pictorials, letters, newspapers, directories, and records, were gathered out of archives and libraries located all over the United States and the United Kingdom. They are the brick and mortar of each scene in this true tale of history. Many excerpts are highlighted in italics. Those excerpts appear with the original spelling, capitalization, and punctuation. Explanatory research notes, citations, and resources are listed at the end.

Firsthand accounts of conversations and events have been painstakingly reconstructed into individual scenes with dialogue. Although dialogue is a dramatic technique more commonly associated with fiction, it is well-suited to telling this story. The historical record abounds with accounts of conversations, courtroom testimony, and legal argument.

To maintain the dramatic pace, some incidents are condensed, and some are left out entirely. Several jumps in time are required to tell this story. These dramatic transitions are distinct. None of the dramatic techniques impinge on the overall historical accuracy of the story.

It goes without saying that no one knows for sure what was said or done all of those many years ago. Even the firsthand accounts differ when compared side-by-side. Interestingly, multiple accounts of the same event are individual pieces of a giant puzzle. They fit together to form a picture, although not the complete picture one might enjoy if reading fiction.

In his struggle to uncover the truth behind the robbery, Patrick exposes the hidden world of gentlemanly schemes and exploits. It is a rare and extraordinary glimpse into early patrician America. Patrick writes with exquisite clarity. Still, he mentions his family and friends only in the context of events relating to the robbery.

As a blacksmith, earning his living by daily labor, Patrick didnt have leisure time to write about his everyday life and the people in it. He remarks, I am more accustomed to mechanics than to authorship. Other than occasional letters, likely long since gone, Patrick wrote to defend himself against accusations made by the bank.

The robbery of the Bank of Pennsylvania is the core event that sets everything in motion. Characterized in the title of this story as the first great American bank robbery, the reader may wonder: Was there was an earlier bank robbery in America? The answer is yes, and it happened on the island of Nantucket, Massachusetts, in 1795.

The Nantucket Bank, situated next door to the hat shop on Main Street, was robbed of $20,927 in gold and silver coins. The event was reported in newspapers across many states. It was devastating to the small community. So why is the bank robbery in Philadelphia characterized as the first great American bank robbery?

The magnitude of the Bank of Pennsylvania robbery was many times over that plundered from the coffers of whaling fishermen on Nantucket Island. The cash vault in Philadelphia contained the vast riches of an elite and influential community. Philadelphia was the capital city of America.

Although the story of an innocent person wrongfully accused is as old as history itself, this tale of innocence hangs upon the founding promise of a young country. Patrick Lyon, a recent immigrant, discovers the truths written in the Declaration of Independence to be anything but self-evident. Bankers infected by power leave him to die in a fever-ridden jail. Herein hangs the tale.

SEPTEMBER 1 SEPTEMBER 2, 1798

A malady of spirit drifted in the sultry night air of Philadelphia. Comfortable dwellings stood empty. Cobble-paved streets lay quiet. Two night watchmen with guard dogs walked from front to back around Carpenters Hall, the stately red-bricked building situated off Chestnut Street. A fortune in silver, gold, and banknotes sat just inside.