I was born in Trenton in 1742, the son of a wealthy merchant. I went to the College of Philadelphia, but never finished—I had other plans. Commerce came first. My brother and I ran a successful business in the city, but my heart was already shifting toward the fight for liberty. By the time tensions with Britain reached a boil, I was standing shoulder to shoulder with the Sons of Liberty.

In 1774, I was chosen to represent Pennsylvania at the First Continental Congress. I spoke out against the abuses of the Crown. But talk alone wasn’t enough. When war erupted, I took up arms and accepted a commission as a captain in the Continental Army. I joined the defense of New York and found myself stationed at Fort Washington in the fall of 1776. The British struck hard that November, and our defenses crumbled. I was captured in the chaos, taken prisoner by the British, and held under parole. That meant I could return home, but only under the condition that I would not take up arms again unless exchanged. I honored that promise and my war days were over.

Still, I did not disappear. I returned to politics, where the battle for the future of the country continued. I served in the Confederation Congress in the final years of the war, then again under the new Constitution as a U.S. Representative from Pennsylvania. I stood in the halls where laws were shaped and helped lay the groundwork for what the nation would become.

I lived a long life and died in Trenton in 1823. I was not a martyr. I was not a general. But I was there when it mattered—at the dawn of a revolution, and again in the quiet work that followed.