Liberty Bells, Colonial Front Doors, and the Real Story of Betsy Ross

Original Air Date: July 4, 2026 Episode Number: 466

Episode Summary

It's the annual Home In Progress Fourth of July Extravaganza. This year Dan covers three topics connected to the Revolutionary era: the Liberty Bell, and how almost everything most people think they know about it is a little off; colonial curb appeal, what colors those front doors actually were, and why any of that matters for your house today; and the real story of Betsy Ross -- not the polished legend, but the full picture of a feisty, independent tradeswoman who kept getting knocked down and kept getting back up. Better than the myth. More American, too.

In This Episode

• [00:00] -- Fourth of July Kickoff
• [00:34] -- Liberty Bell Origins
• [01:45] -- Revolution Myths Debunked
• [03:09] -- The Bell Was a Lemon
• [04:44] -- How It Got Its Name
• [05:41] -- Break
• [06:39] -- Colonial Curb Appeal
• [08:07] -- Real Colonial House Colors
• [10:02] -- Paint Forensics Explained
• [13:23] -- Classic Door Color Palette
• [16:55] -- Why Door Color Still Matters
• [18:38] -- Paint Project Payoff
• [19:23] -- Betsy Ross Legend Setup
• [19:59] -- 1776 Flag Shop Scene
• [23:59] -- Meet Elizabeth Griscom
• [24:38] -- Trade Skills and Elopement
• [29:16] -- Widowhood and Resilience
• [31:57] -- Washington Bed Hangings Proof
• [34:29] -- Did She Make the First Flag
• [35:51] -- Why the Myth Spread
• [37:34] -- Real Betsy Ross Legacy
• [39:31] -- Fourth of July Signoff

THE LIBERTY BELLLiberty Bell Origins [00:34]

Most people can picture the Liberty Bell -- big bronze bell, long jagged crack running up the side. Most people also have the story at least a little wrong.

The bell was not made for the Revolution. It was ordered in 1751, a full 25 years before the Declaration of Independence, for the Pennsylvania State House. The most likely occasion was the 50th anniversary of Pennsylvania's original constitution, a document called the Charter of Privileges, written by William Penn in 1701.

It happened to be in the Pennsylvania State House -- the building we now call Independence Hall -- when the Declaration of Independence was debated and adopted. It was there. So was dirt. Nobody's made a monument out of that either.

Revolution Myths Debunked [01:45]

There's a story that the Liberty Bell rang out to call people to the first public reading of the Declaration of Independence. Dan loves that story. Historians do not. No evidence supports it, and the general conclusion is that it was made up.

The Bell Was a Lemon [03:09]

The bell was ordered from a London foundry, shipped to Philadelphia, unpacked, and rung for the first time. On that first ring, it cracked. Two Philadelphia metalworkers -- John Pass and John Stow -- offered to fix it. They melted it down and cast a new one. That one didn't sound right. They melted it down again and cast another. The bell we know today is that second attempt. Three tries, two complete restarts.

How It Got Its Name [04:44]

For most of its existence, the bell was called the State House Bell or the Bell in the Steeple. The name Liberty Bell first appeared not during the Revolution but in abolitionist circles in the 1830s. People fighting to end slavery noticed a verse from Leviticus engraved on the bell: "Proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all inhabitants thereof." They claimed it as their symbol and renamed it the Liberty Bell. The name eventually stuck.

The Liberty Bell, in other words, is named for a fight that came decades after the Revolution ended.

COLONIAL FRONT DOORSColonial Curb Appeal [06:39]

In late 1700s New England, a lot of homeowners put their money, skill, and creativity almost exclusively into the front of the house. The face you showed the road. That side got clapboard siding, embellishments around the windows and doors, and paint. The sides and the back were often covered in rougher shingles and left to weather -- going gray, brown, silver in the salt air, depending on the climate. Nobody who mattered was looking at the back of the house. That's where the family went. The important people came to the front.

Real Colonial House Colors [08:07]

Most people picture colonial houses as white. White is part of the story but not the whole story. In the late 1700s, a clapboard house might be white or off-white if the owner had money, but it might just as easily be red-brown, yellow ochre, gray, or tan -- or just left to weather, particularly on simpler rural homes.

The one place that almost always got paint, even when the rest of the house didn't, was the front door. It was the place to make a statement without the expense of painting an entire house. That was true 250 years ago and it's still true today.

Paint Forensics Explained [10:02]

How do we actually know what colors colonial houses were painted? The original paint is buried under 20 coats applied over two centuries, and old paintings of the buildings can't be trusted -- the artist may have taken liberties, and the pigments in the paintings fade over time.

The answer is cross-section microscopy. A conservator finds a protected spot where old paint survived -- behind a shutter hinge, under a piece of molding -- and takes a sample smaller than the head of a pin. That sample gets set in clear resin, polished down, and examined from the side under a microscope. Every coat of paint the building ever wore shows up as its own distinct layer. Count down to the very first one, identify the pigments, adjust for yellowing and fading, and you know the original color.

The man who pioneered this in America is Frank Welsh. He's read the paint on Independence Hall, the White House, and Grand Central Terminal, and saved over 50,000 samples in his career. In the 1980s and '90s, Colonial Williamsburg brought him in to study their historic buildings -- and what he found turned everything upside down.

For decades, people assumed colonial colors were soft, muted, grayed down. Turns out that look was just old, dirty, faded paint. The real colors were bolder, brighter, and more saturated than anyone believed. Williamsburg has gone back and repainted buildings to match what the science found. The colonists liked color a lot more than we gave them credit for.

Classic Door Color Palette [13:23]

If you were walking through a New England town in the late 1770s, these are the door colors you'd have likely seen:

Deep red-brown. Iron in the soil -- the same stuff that makes rust red -- produced a family of dull, brick-red earth colors. One common version was called Spanish brown. Dirt cheap, in the most literal sense of the phrase, and very common on doors and trim.

Deep green. A dark, earthy green was a popular choice for doors and shutters. The classic colonial green door has roots going back to this period, which is part of why it still reads as traditional today.

Black. More common as you move into the early 1800s. It looked formal, looked sharp, looked especially good against a pale house.

White and off-white. These came from white lead, which was expensive. A crisp white door was a quiet declaration that there was money in the house. What looks like an understated choice today was a statement then.

Prussian blue. A rich, deep, slightly greenish blue that arrived as a new pigment in the early 1700s and became a sensation. A blue door said you could afford something special.

Vermilion red. The most expensive of all. A brilliant, clean fire-engine red that came from a pigment worth nearly its weight in gold at certain points in history. A truly bright red door was the loudest possible way to tell the world you had money.

Why Door Color Still Matters [16:55]

When Dan pictures colonial America, he pictures parchment tones -- old paper, brown wood, gray stone, candlelight. Even the red, white, and blue of the flag feels muted in his mental image. But these people cared about color. They cared about curb appeal, they just didn't have the phrase for it. The front door was where homeowners made that statement without the expense of painting the whole house.

Two hundred and fifty years later, people still stand in front of the paint display and agonize over a quart of paint for the same reason. The front door speaks before anyone inside gets a chance to. That was true in 1775 and it's still true now.

Paint Project Payoff [18:38]

If you're looking for a summer weekend project, Dan's case is simple: look at your front door. What is it saying to the world? What is it saying to you? If the message needs to change, stop into any RepcoLite location and they'll help find the right color. It's a quart of paint and about four hours of work. The payoff is big.

THE REAL BETSY ROSSBetsy Ross Legend Setup [19:23]

Dan sets up the Betsy Ross segment by acknowledging that most people know some version of the legend. Before getting into whether it's true, he wants to introduce the real woman -- because she's considerably more interesting than the simplified version most of us grew up with.

1776 Flag Shop Scene [19:59]

Philadelphia, June 1776. A secret committee...