Fort Snelling in 1844. Today the trees are so thick and high all around that you can’t see the river from the fort.

On Independence Day I took an out of town visitor to see Historic Fort Snelling, our major local historical site, which has been reconstructed to appear as it did around 1820, and is staffed by costumed interpreters. I’m glad I did, because I came up with a couple article ideas which I don’t intend to squander on you lot of freeloaders, but to sell to The American Spectator Online (or so I hope).

The temperature was officially 101º, which gave us a vivid lesson in life before air conditioning (consumer report—it was bloody uncomfortable). But at least I wasn’t marching around in a wool uniform like the support staff. (We Vikings generally wear linen tunics in the summer, even though they’re not strictly vouched for by archaeology. Those authenticity officers know there’s a point beyond which you can’t push a guy with an axe.)

The main problem with Fort Snelling is that it’s not all that memorable, in historical terms. Nothing big really ever happened there. Graf von Zeppelin spent some time there as an observer, before going home to invent the dirigible. General Custer cooled his heels there for a while in temporary disgrace, before being called back west for his Date with Destiny.

Dred Scott.

But when I walked in, I saw the name Dred Scott on a sign, and remembered perhaps the fort’s greatest historical significance, which had unaccountably slipped my mind. Fort Snelling was one of the places Dred Scott’s owner, Dr. John Emerson, brought him to live, leading to his failed attempt to sue for his freedom once he’d been taken back to Missouri. This led to the explosive Dred Scott decision in the Supreme Court (1857), which, like Roe v. Wade, galvanized national opposition, rousing such spirits as John Brown and Abraham Lincoln to rather various kinds of activism.

It was at Fort Snelling that Scott met Harriet Robinson, a slave belonging to Indian agent Lawrence Taliaferro (pronounced Tolliver). One is tempted to hate Taliaferro for being a slave owner (though he was nice enough to give permission for Scott and Robinson to marry, and to officiate himself in his capacity as justice of the peace), but he’s also remembered as having worked his escutcheons off trying to get the government to treat the Indians decently. Eventually he saw the futility of that endeavor and resigned.

The semi-happy ending was that Dred Scott and his family were freed by a repentant owner about three months after the ruling. He died of tuberculosis 17 months later.