Shownotes Transcript
Welcome, legendary listeners. Thanks for tuning in to From the Vault, a second look at some of our classic episodes. Look for a new episode every week. Now, can you go back and listen on your own at OurNewEnglandLegends.com? You bet. But you won't get the added bonus of an After the Legends segment featuring new commentary about that episode from your old pals Jeff and Ray. So let's open up the New England Legends Vault and revisit another legendary episode.
Welcome to the Vault. Welcome to the Vault, the second coming of the second coming of Jemima Wilkinson. First aired August 19th, 2021. Enjoy.
Ray, are you a fan of the band Dire Straits? Oh yeah, sure. I'm a child of the 80s. Mark Knopfler is an extremely talented songwriter and guitarist. So as we make our way into Ledyard, Connecticut, I've been thinking about this week's story, and I've got this Dire Straits song lyric stuck in my head. Okay, which one? So you know their 1982 song, Industrial Disease? Oh yeah, that's a good one. Kind of an overlooked hit for them. Right, so there's a line in the song that says...
I go down to Speaker's Corner on Thunderstruck. They got free speech tourists, police and trucks. Two men say they're Jesus. One of them must be wrong. Two men say they're Jesus. One of them must be wrong. Yeah, that would be true. I'm guessing maybe this week's story has a religious bend to it. It does. We're heading into Ledyard, Connecticut to search for Jemima Wilkinson, a woman who claimed she died and then resurrected in order to start a new religious movement.
Hello, I'm Jeff Belanger. And I'm Ray Ogier. Welcome to episode 209 of the New England Legends podcast. If you give us about 15 minutes, we'll give you something strange to talk about today. We're on a mission to chronicle every legend in New England, one story at a time. We're a community
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Okay, Jeff, so we're just getting into Ledyard, Connecticut now, and we're looking for the second coming of Jemima Wilkinson? We are. Not only did she claim she resurrected from the dead, but that she could walk on water and even raise the dead. Well, that's quite a lot. Okay, so here's a little background on Jemima. She was born in 1752 in Cumberland, Rhode Island. She was the eighth child of Amy and Jeremiah Wilkinson.
Her father was kind of like a lower middle class farmer, but her Quaker family was large and devoutly religious. And although she lacked any formal education, she grew up learning to read and write, and she devoured the Bible and other Quaker religious texts.
They say even as a youngster, she could quote long passages from Scripture, all from memory. Well, it sounds like she really took to her faith. You could say she took to it with zeal. In fact, she was so engrossed with Quaker theology and history and the Bible that almost everything she spoke sounded something like a Bible verse. And on the third day, brother ate the mashed potatoes and said it was good. Something like that.
But then something tragic happened when Jemima was a teenager, something that would set wheels in motion. We pick up the story from the year 1764. It's the summer of 1764, and Amy Wilkinson has just died following the birth of her 12th child. The family is heartbroken, of course, but their faith pulls them through. It's about this time that 13-year-old Jemima becomes engrossed in her biblical studies. With her mother gone, she works to fill the void.
She regularly attends the Quaker meetings, but the more she studies her Bible and other religious texts, the more she feels like maybe something is missing. By her late teens, she starts attending the religious services of the New Light Baptists in Cumberland. This group formed just a few decades ago during a period called the Great Awakening. The New Light Baptists preach an evangelical form of Christianity that encourages personal enlightenment within their Christian faith.
Kind of a, you know, find yourself, go on your own way, then tell everybody about it kind of religion. Once she joins the New Light Baptist, she's disowned by the Quakers. And after a few years with the New Light Baptist, you know, that faith doesn't quite sit right either. Still, Jemima feels the call to preach. So in the spring of 1776, she takes her horse...
her books, and her few worldly belongings and head south to Ledyard, Connecticut. In Ledyard, Jemima moves into a farmhouse owned by James Smith. Pretty quickly, her neighbors start to notice her. That's good. She's making friends quickly. Well, I didn't say she was making friends so much as getting noticed. Still, she's quoting Bible verses at every opportunity and still speaking in Bible speak to everyone she encounters.
Her neighbors are also Christian, but still, this is weird. Eccentric is a word used to describe her. Still, Jemima loves sharing her biblical knowledge with anyone who will listen. She makes a few local connections in Ledyard. Then something happens in the early fall of 1776. Jemima gets sick.
It seems to be typhus, which is going around. Typhus causes fever and chills in the early stages and then moves on to swelling on your brain and spinal column. It can cause internal bleeding and organ failure. Typhus can kill you. And that's exactly what it does to Jemima Wilkinson. It kills her in October of 1776. A grave is dug.
And Jemima is laid into her pine coffin and brought to the gravesite where quite a few family, friends, and locals have gathered to pay their respects. After all, it's the Christian thing to do. Folks are standing around the coffin and waiting for it to be lowered into the ground. And that's when a friend approaches to open the lid so those gathered can say their final goodbye. As the coffin lid opens, a few people lean forward expecting to see a peaceful Jemima in repose,
But then, something happens that shocks the crowd. Jemima stands up in her coffin and makes a speech. I have passed through the gates of a better world, and I have seen the light. But they asked me to return to you, my brothers and sisters, a second redeemer, to show you the way to salvation. Here's the thing. Many in the crowd aren't buying this for a minute. They figure this crazy religious zealot is up to something.
Others stand there with their mouths agape. Jemima continues her speech. The Jemima Wilkinson ye knew is truly dead and buried.
My rebirth has endowed me with a new name. Henceforth, brothers and sisters, I shall be known as the Public Universal Friend. For such will I be to all in this sinful world. The Public Universal Friend claims that after passing through the veil of death, God told her that she was being sent back as a new person to regenerate the world.
This new person was neither a man nor a woman, a person without gender. The public universal friend dresses in long black robes and wears a white or purple scarf around their neck. When preaching indoors, public universal friend doesn't wear a hat like a woman would. And when preaching outdoors, they wear a low-brimmed hat similar to what a Quaker man would wear.
And preach they did. And soon, there are some followers. Most of the early followers are young people made up mostly of disenfranchised Quakers. The group travels all over New England preaching the word according to the public universal friend. As you can imagine, when you claim to be the second coming, some locals view it as heresy.
The Public Universal Friend preaches outdoors or in borrowed meeting houses and sometimes crowds form to protest. Quaker preachers tell their meetings not to follow the Public Universal Friend and the flock of Jemimekin as they're being called by others. Still, others are curious and come to see the spectacle. It turns out this preacher can preach. Say what you will, but the Public Universal Friend is becoming a big attraction in southeastern Connecticut and even beyond.
When one claims to have risen from the dead, one is going to be asked to perform miracles. That's when the public universal friend announces they can walk on water. Walk on water? I mean, that's quite the Jesus move. The Jemima can find themselves in New Milford, Connecticut. They spread the word that the public universal friend is going to walk on water. And those who want to bear witness should meet along the banks of the Housatonic River tomorrow morning. By morning, a crowd is gathered.
That's when the public universal friend starts whipping the people into a frenzy about the good word. Do ye have faith? Do ye have faith that I can do this thing? We do. Ah, it is good.
For if ye have faith, ye need no other evidence. And with that, the public universal friend walks away from the water, having performed no miracles. Now some in the crowd scoff and walk away laughing to themselves, but others are intrigued. And years pass, and the legend of the public universal friend is growing. But so is the anger. Traveling is getting dangerous. People don't like the claims this new movement is making.
But it's not just angry mobs. There's plenty of angry individuals. The public universal friend doesn't seem to hold to any conventions or social norms. Like the time the group travels to Kingston, Rhode Island, the public universal friend visits the home of the ailing Judge William Potter. Potter's a prominent citizen in town. With his health failing, the preacher pays a visit, then lets themselves right up to the judge's bedchamber to minister. Suddenly, Mrs. Potter arrives home.
marches up to the judge's bedroom and confronts the preacher, asking what's going on. I have come to minister to any of my lambs in distress. That's when Mrs. Potter tells the preacher they can minister to their lambs all they want, but in the future, please leave my old ram alone.
Wanting to step up the miracle game, the Public Universal Friend announces a new miracle will be performed at the cemetery, namely, resurrecting the dead. The followers pass the word around, so a good-sized crowd forms at the Boneyard.
That's when an open coffin is carried in with a body laying beneath a white shroud. The casket is set down on the ground as the public universal friend approaches to start preaching. The crowd pushes closer to get a good look. Some folks are curious. Others are incredulous. Oh man, like that guy. Yeah, I see a soldier pushing his way to the front of the crowd. Okay, so the soldier just drew a sword and asked to stab the corpse to make sure it's good and dead. Yeah.
The, quote, corpse just leapt out of the casket and is making a run for it towards the woods. I'm guessing maybe there was more resurrecting power in the soldier's sword than the hands of the public universal friend. With so much animosity towards the group, the public universal friend and congregation head westward to Pennsylvania, where they set up a commune. The town lasts only a few years before they head north about 100 miles into New York State. The
The travel is difficult, but eventually they arrive at the north shore of Lake Cuca in Yates County, New York. That's when the preacher declares, We will set down our roots here, and we shall call this place the City of Jerusalem. And that brings us back to today. The public universal friend died.
Again, July 1st, 1819. There's no formal funeral service, but the body is placed in a coffin with a glass window, and the coffin was placed in a vault within the basement of the meeting house. And that's where the body stayed for several years until it was removed and buried in an unmarked grave.
After the death of the public universal friend, the religion dwindled. With no dynamic leader preaching, the congregation began to shrink until it disappeared. The preacher's home still stands in Jerusalem, New York, and is now on the National Register of Historic Places.
So this story has played out before and since. I mean, Jemima Wilkinson was not the first nor the last to claim to be a resurrected savior. The critics, and there were many in the papers and the local pulpits of various churches and meeting houses, said,
We're quick to point out that this false prophet and the Jemima kin, as they were called, were just fools who joined a cult. Which has been said about everyone who doesn't neatly fall into some established and accepted religious belief system. True. Hey, you know the difference between a cult and a religion? What's that? Numbers. 20 of you out in the woods dancing around an altar is a cult. 200,000 of you organized and owning real estate, and you get tax-exempt status. That's a good point.
But I think about what the preacher said on the banks of the Housatonic. If you have faith, no proof is necessary.
Of course I can walk on water. To the faithful, this rings true. Then there are those of us who actually need to see the miracle in order to believe. Jesus had a disciple, Thomas, who claimed he had to see the wounds with his eyes and touch them with his hands before he would believe Jesus had resurrected. That's right. That's where we get the phrase, a doubting Thomas. Right. I can identify with Thomas.
Maybe that means my faith isn't as strong as others, or maybe it means I have a healthy dose of skepticism until something is proven to me beyond all doubt. It really sounds like in the case of Jemima Wilkinson that this was mostly fraud, delusion, or both. But still, there's this nagging part of me that wonders if maybe the Jemimican knew something we don't. ♪
Maybe. And that's why the legend endures, and we're still talking about a person who was using a different pronoun centuries before people started arguing whether that's right or wrong. One thing we never argue about is how much we appreciate it when you spread the word about our show. So true.
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This is a great story because they got caught in all these situations and people called them on their bull. As one does. Right? And they thought they were so smart too. Yeah, yeah. Look what I did. I rose and now I'm going to walk on water. Yeah. But I'm not because you guys believe I can. I don't need to.
And then the one with the soldier too. Right. You mind if I stab that thing? Yeah, yeah. So the sword cured death as opposed to... So the walk on water thing, it raised a really interesting point with me because I'm just like, okay...
So a person of faith doesn't need proof. But we believe Jesus walked on water. Right. Which if you're, if that's what you believe in, that's faith. And yet, is that an important part of the Jesus story? Probably not. They wanted to make him out to be superhuman. Right. Like, is that the critical thing you need to remember is that he walked on water or like... Just helped people. Helped people. How about that? Took care of the poor. Kept company with every kind of folk as opposed to... Spread a good word. Yeah. Right. Like, yeah, the walk on water thing just felt like something that might've been added later.
You know? Well, it was a slow year for believers and they had to come up with some stories. Like, do you know that he did that too? He did? He walked on water. Now, you
You know, the turn water into wine thing. That's where he had me. I'm like, sold. Now I'm listening. Now I'm listening. Can you turn it into beer too? I mean, I imagine. How about a nice hoppy IPA? Yeah, something like a hazy. Yeah, oh, I love a hazy IPA. Like a good hazy with like some pizza. We only have three slices of pizza left. Yeah. There's a lot of people in the bar.
Yeah, I don't need any more fish in my diet. I need some pizza. Yeah, I need some pizza and this beer. We need the good stuff. All we're doing is drinking wine and fish, Jesus. Yeah, yeah. Let's switch it up a bit. Broaden the scope a little bit. It would have been grog back then, wouldn't it have been? I think that predates grog, too. Does it? Yeah. You're thinking like pirate time. That was still centuries in the future. Yeah. What did they drink for wine, right? It was just wine, you think? No, the Egyptians invented beer.
The Egyptians were fermenting bread in water, and they found it would start to ferment. The sugar would eat the yeast, and that was the earliest form of beer, was actually the ancient Egyptians. God bless them. I know. And look at how far we've come. Imagine the first person that tried that and realized that they were getting drunk off of it. They're like, hey, this feels pretty good. But they made it into a liquid form. Yeah. Right? Well, right. So once they had the liquid and they were drinking it, they're like...
We need football. And pizza. And wings. We're going to need wings and pizza and football now. And so I'm pretty sure we owe it all to the ancient Egyptians. Oh, thank God. Which is well done. So a question I have, and this is for all people of faith, do we still need miracles? Are there still miracles?
I think a miracle is in the eye of the beholder. The beer holder? The beholder. Sorry. The beer holder. The beer holder. I think you, somebody says it's a miracle or they see it for themselves and say that is a sign of a miracle. It might not be anything big. It could be a child laughing. Sure. I don't know. A child being born. Well, yeah, there's something miraculous about that. What parent hasn't said this is a little miracle? Yeah. And when you look at what has to happen.
for everything from coupling to conception to birth. Yeah, I mean, you know, I wouldn't argue with you. If you want to call that a miracle, there's a lot that has to go right. The miracle of life, as they call it. For a person to be born, and yet it's been done billions of times. I know, right? You know what I mean? It shouldn't be a surprise. It shouldn't be, but we look all around and go, oh boy, it's happened a few times, hasn't it? But it is still pretty miraculous. I get it. But so, I mean, like the bona fide miracles, the walking on water, the raising the dead,
every time we hear stories about that now, all of us instantly go, like, these people are kooks, and they're frauds, and someone's going to get hurt, right? Like, we're going to get on this comet, this spaceship behind the comet. We're like, well, they're all dead. You know what I mean? Like, when you hear about stuff, it sounds cult-like. And usually it involves a suicide pact, and you go, well, did they get on the spaceship? I don't know. Well, all religions are
I hate to say that out loud. Some of them get tax breaks. But they're cult-like. Let's say that. I mean, you've got a leader and you have followers. You have to buy into a system of beliefs in order to be part of the belief system or the religion. You do. And I mean, even atheism, I would argue, could be a belief system. You have to, you know...
rule out everything. Yeah. You know, which seems exhausting to me. No, truly. It all seems exhausting to me because I grew up Catholic. Yeah. And the whole hour at church was exhausting. Yes. The up and the down and the kneel and the praise this and praise that and songs that you now, I bet you grew up that way too. Yeah, of course. I know them all. You probably know them by heart. If you went to a wedding. The old version. Before they started, they changed some words. Oh, did they? Because I went back for like my nephew's confirmation or something and I was like,
I was like, oh, I've got the old lyrics. I forget what they changed. It wasn't a lot, but it was something. Yeah, you were singing the original song, but there's been covers ever since. I'm like, oh, this is the remix. I didn't get the memo. I'm still on the oldie station. Yeah, but you knew him for years. You'd go back years after, and you still went into it. Yeah, autopilot. Yeah, it's just ingrained in your brain. Sure, and look, lots of people of faith...
find a lot of peace in it. Oh, I'm not putting it down. No, of course. It's hard not to if you grew up that way and you have different beliefs now. But anything that makes somebody happy, and as long as you're not hurting other people, I'm all for it. And often they're helping other people, which is great. But sometimes these beliefs can be warped into horrible, twisted stuff where people... I literally... I know someone who...
she identifies as a witch, you know, practicing witch. And she went to a cemetery and she said some Christian women started singing, you know, burn a witch for Jesus. Oh my God. And she was just like, I felt I was in danger. Sure. And I'm like, I don't think that's in the Bible. Maybe, show me the verse. Maybe I'm wrong. I don't have it memorized. But if it says, Jesus says, you know, burn a witch for me, let me know where it says that. Were witches a thing back then? Sure. The word witch though. Yeah.
Yeah, I don't know. I mean, there'd be some word for like someone on the outside, you know, some kind of thing, shaman, sorceress, you know, whatever. But anyway, no, I just, I thought like, oh, that doesn't sound like the teachings at all. Not the ones I grew up on. But one of the other points that I thought was really interesting in this story, which by the way, was like the 1760s, the public universal friend had no pronouns.
Was not a he or a her. I didn't even think of that. That is interesting. And so people think of it, I just thought like, hey, everybody thinks it's a modern thing where people are like, oh, don't. And also, okay, if this public universal friend doesn't go by he or she...
Maybe part of the point was to not let you be distracted by saying, by putting me into a box of a he or her or whatever. I'm just, I'm a them. Right. And anyway, I just, I thought it was interesting that this was the 1760s and someone was saying the pronouns don't work for me. Yeah. I don't think we've invented anything in modern times. It all originates from something. It's, there was someone else that was just like, I don't know. I don't feel like a him. I don't feel like a her. Yeah.
Doesn't affect me, you know? Right. Whatever. The only thing I do believe is that you can't walk on water or raise the dead. Right? Right. What pronoun you want to use is your business. Right. That's fine, but... But once you start trying to walk on water, I'm done with you. I mean...
I'll watch. You know what I'm saying? Yeah. And film. Right. I mean, live stream. Let's see you give this a go. I mean, I'm all for it. Because what if? I mean, I'm telling you right now, I would have to rethink everything. Oh, absolutely. If you saw that today, yeah. Yeah. Picture just this person just trots across the pond and you're like, oh my. I'm sure David Blaine has done it. Well, sure. Yeah. But that's sorcery. But he's telling you. He's tricking you. That's true. Whereas this other person is saying, oh, if you believe in me, I don't have to do it. Yeah. No.
No, you do. I bought my ticket. Uh, you gotta do it. You gotta see it. Um, but yeah, no, it's one of those interesting stories. And, and I would say we don't hear about these kinds of things as often today, but we do once in a while. Like we, we talked about cults that, you know, get suicide packs, they get on TV. Um,
You know, David Koresh, the Branch Davidians. Yeah. It's been decades now, but, you know, you do still hear about things from time to time. Well, and they're also telling people, I am the chosen one. Well, how do you know that? Because I'm telling you. Right. And you must believe. Right. And if you're not a believer, then we'll banish you from the compound, and you'll have nothing. And the Branch Davidians, I remember it was pointed out again and again. There was like a Harvard grad in there. Mm-hmm.
Not that graduating from Harvard makes you a genius, right? Necessarily. It doesn't mean you may not have any common sense, but it was people that needed to believe in something. And they just, please just tell me. I'm so confused. There's so much going on in the world today. Just tell me what to think and what to believe. Yeah, yeah. That's easier. Yep.
I don't think it's a good way to live. It's not the way I want to live, but it is easier for a lot of people. And we do live in confusing times with a lot of information. Well, I'm sure you've been there before, just sitting around going, what am I doing? I just need somebody to tell me what to do right now. I don't want to make any more decisions today. Yeah. And some people live their whole lives like that. And then you get like a text from Ray who's just like, hey, you want to go to happy hour? There it is. That's the decision I was looking for. Yeah, that's what I'm talking about. Is it time for church already? Yeah.
All right. See you there. See you at the bar. Yeah. I'm not kneeling because I'm praying. I'm kneeling because I fell over. Right. I fell down. I'm throwing up. I'll be back in a minute. Yeah. Yeah, no, I get it. And this toilet is my altar. Right. I'm praying to the porcelain God. There you go. The old expression makes even more sense now. So, yeah, you know, pronounless back in the 1760s.
And, you know, starting something that you needed to believe to see. But in the end, turned out, you know, another miss.