A Meatpacker Is Credited as the Inspiration for the Symbol

Along with providing plenty of fodder for additional rounds of Brother Jonathan and John Bull illustrations, the War of 1812 provided a business opportunity for an upstate New York resident who fueled the creation myth of Uncle Sam.

In early 1813, a Troy-based meatpacker and brickmaker by the name of Samuel "Uncle Sam" Wilson partnered with a contractor to provide beef and pork to American troops. Wilson's barrels were stamped with "U.S." to signify that they were earmarked for military use. However, the various employees involved in the distribution process joked that the initials stood for Uncle Sam, the nickname of the widely liked meatpacker, and the connection between the moniker and the government spread from there.

This story of Uncle Sam's human origins first appeared in print in 1830, and it was considered canon by the time Congress passed a resolution in 1961 that recognized "'Uncle Sam' Wilson of Troy, New York as the progenitor of America's national symbol of 'Uncle Sam.'"

However, recent research has uncovered use of the term from before Wilson's tenure as a food supplier for the troops. The earliest to date was found in an 1810 journal entry from Navy midshipman Isaac Mayo, who wrote of how "uncle Sam, as they call him, would certainly forever have lost the services of at least one sailor" due to Mayo’s extreme seasickness.

It's still plausible that those involved in Wilson's enterprise were responsible for introducing the term to a broader segment of the population, although it's clear that the concept of Uncle Sam already existed in some capacity before the popular meatpacker. 

Cartoonist Thomas Nast Created the Iconic Image of the Character

Whatever his exact origins, Uncle Sam claimed a place in popular culture alongside Brother Jonathan as the 19th century progressed, the two essentially interchangeable as avatars of American interests. However, early versions of Uncle Sam lacked a defined form; he was depicted as both a toddler and an old man, his frame varying from thin to portly, and garb ranging from pajamas to formal wear.

The modern image of the character began solidifying after the Civil War thanks in large part to cartoonist Thomas Nast, who also popularized the contemporary perceptions of Santa Claus as well as the donkey and elephant mascots of America’s dominant political parties. A staunch supporter of Union causes, Nast captured the essence of President Abraham Lincoln by drawing Uncle Sam as a tall, thin, bearded man.

By that point, Uncle Sam had also taken on a more distinct persona as the embodiment of the American government, in contrast with Brother Jonathan’s representation of its industrious citizens. Uncle Sam ultimately eclipsed the older symbol outright before the end of the 19th century, even assuming Jonathan’s standard uniform of striped trousers, long-tailed coat, and top hat.

An Illustrator Used His Own Face for the Famed WWI Recruitment Poster

The final stage of Uncle Sam's evolution came from the drawing pad of James Montgomery Flagg, an American illustrator known for his "Nervy Nat" comic strip and images of curvy pinup girls in the first years of the 20th century.

Tasked with creating the art for a Leslie's Illustrated Weekly cover, Flagg reportedly worked off the "Lord Kitchener Wants You" British military recruitment poster from 1914, substituting Uncle Sam for the British secretary of state for war and using his own face as the model for his character.

Flagg's now-famous depiction of Uncle Sam sternly gazing and pointing at the viewer first appeared on the July 16, 1916, cover of Leslie's, with the heading "What Are You Doing for Preparedness?" By the following spring, the first of some 4 million World War I recruitment posters were printed with the Flagg-as-Uncle Sam image, this time above the words "I Want You for U.S. Army."

This was just one of 46 posters created by Flagg for the U.S. war effort, some of which depicted Uncle Sam as a muscular, superhero-type character. However, the initial recruitment poster proved the most enduring, as it was again used to beef up the military for World War II.

It also provided the best-known depiction of Uncle Sam in his modern form: a more mature version of Brother Jonathan, shaped by the backstory of a hard-working entrepreneur, set in the mold of Abraham Lincoln, and polished with the features of his wartime rebrander to stand out as a quintessentially American icon.

Smith’s Changing Stories

The first written mention of Pocahontas came in a letter from Smith to a friend, which was published in 1608 as “A True relation of such occurrences and accidents of note, as hath hapned at Virginia.” In the text, Smith describes Chief Powhatan’s daughter as being "not only for feature, countenance, and proportion, much exceedeth any of the rest of his people: but for wit and spirit, the only Nonpariel of his Country." Later, he relays a moment in which Pocahontas, serving as her father's emissary, is entrusted with a group of released Powhatan prisoners.

Smith next wrote of his young acquaintance in the 1612 manuscript A Map of Virginia: With a Description of the Countrey, the Commodities, People, Government and Religion. This text included a collection of Indigenous words and phrases, one of which came with the translation: "Bid Pokahontas bring hither two little Baskets, and I wil give her white beads to make her a chaine."

The former captain’s recollection of events became a little more interesting by the time he published The Generall Historie of Virginia, New-England, and the Summer Isles in 1624. This multivolume work features the now-familiar storyline, curiously missing from earlier reports, of how Pocahontas thwarted Smith’s execution. Setting the scene, Smith writes (in the third person) of how his head was about to get smashed against two stones until "Pocahontas the Kings dearest daughter, when no intreaty could prevaile, got his head in her armes, and laid her owne upon his to save him from death."

The text also includes a letter, supposedly written to England’s Queen Anne in 1616, which describes another moment of Pocahontas intervening to warn Smith of a pending ambush from her father: "The darke night could not affright her from comming through the irkesome woods, and with watered eies gave me intelligence, with her best advice to escape his furie; which had hee knowne, hee had surely slaine her."

Given the author left these events out of earlier chronicles of his life in Virginia, many historians feel that Smith either exaggerated or outright made up the stories as a means of self-promotion. Still, even with the newer details that add to the drama and the depth of his relationship with Pocahontas, Smith’s descriptions fail to convey a clear romance between the two.

The Romance Blossoms in Popular Culture

Pocahontas was a well-known historical figure in the American colonies by the mid-18th century, but the narrative around her life, her relationship to Smith, and the state of relations between European settlers and the Indigenous tribes they encountered took a turn after the Revolutionary War.

The first major reimagining of the facts came with Englishman John Davis' 1803 book Travels of four years and a half in the United States of America. Although he was ostensibly rehashing a version of the story heard during his trip, Davis unapologetically crossed into the realm of historical fiction by making the heroine a few years older, concocting flowery dialogue, and highlighting passionate feelings between Smith and Pocahontas.

Five years later, the story of Pocahontas, and her rescue of Smith from the brutality of her father's warriors, earned a dramatic retelling on the stage with The Indian Princess; or, La Belle Sauvage, a musical play by American playwright James Nelson Barker.

With denizens of the young country eager to latch on to origin stories to establish a national identity, the romantic ideals introduced in Davis’ book and The Indian Princess quickly caught on. Other plays about the Powhatan maiden accepting her Christian colonizers were released to the public, as were numerous paintings depicting Pocahontas getting married, being baptized, or, of course, saving Smith from getting pummeled to death.

Although the love story between Smith and Pocahontas didn't feature in every creative work at the time — she was, after all, married to someone else — it became a popular focal point for artists and writers alike. Thanks to plays such as John Brougham's popular 1855 musical Po-ca-hon-tas, or The Gentle Savage, and books such as David Garnett’s 1933 historical novel Pocahontas or The Nonpareil of Virginia, the romantic entanglement was embedded in popular culture by the time Disney delivered its take with the animated feature film Pocahontas in 1995.

The Truth Emerges but the Narrative Remains

While Disney’s Pocahontas drew some criticism for perpetuating stereotypes about Native Americans and European settlers, it also ignited a new round of research into the well-worn story. Among the surprises that emerged was a published version of Pocahontas’ life from the oral tradition of the Mattaponi Tribe, replete with details that both complement and contradict the better-known accounts of Smith and his contemporaries.

Nowadays, historians generally believe that there was a friendship, or at least some form of mutual appreciation, between the English captain and the bright, lively girl who served as an intermediary and translator between two cultures. However, it's highly unlikely there was a romance, considering both the lack of evidence for its existence and the age gap between the two. Nevertheless, the prevailing narrative of their relationship endures to this day, and given the power of a compelling love story — fiction or otherwise — it may continue to do so for another 400 years.

Buckles on hats or shoes were also uncommon at the time the Pilgrims migrated from England. The accessories did become a fixture of English style later on, when they were adopted from royal court dress in the late 17th century, but even then, they were a luxury that would not have been afforded by the Pilgrims. Ultimately, the image of the Pilgrim we know so well — adorned in black clothing, stark white collars and cuffs, and buckled hats and shoes — emerged much later, for a couple of different reasons. 

During the Victorian era, some visual art, such as the 1847 painting “Departure of the Pilgrims from Delft Haven,” began to introduce some of the now-familiar images, such as monochromatic clothing, that were not actually part of everyday 17th-century Pilgrim attire. (Other works of art, such as the 1857 painting “Embarkation of the Pilgrims,” showed some darker clothing but still depicted settlers more accurately in diverse colorful clothing.) 

The familiar Pilgrim image was also likely a result of conflating the Pilgrims and the Puritans. Both were English religious groups that sought a new life in America in the 1600s, but their motivations and identities were distinct. The Pilgrims, or Separatists, sought complete independence from the Church of England; the Puritans, on the other hand, did wish for church reform, but sailed to America looking for land investment opportunities as opposed to the religious freedom sought by the Pilgrims. Puritans arrived in Massachusetts a decade after the Pilgrims and were wealthier; as a result, they indeed often wore black clothing and hats. Over time, the early colonies merged, and the groups melded together in the American imagination.

The 20th century saw Americans forming a romanticized view of their colonial history; stories and depictions of this era were often shaped by nostalgic reinterpretations rather than historical accuracy. By the mid-20th century, the default Pilgrim characterization included dark-colored clothing and a tall, buckled hat; even Norman Rockwell, one of the most well-known American artists of the 20th century, depicted the colonial figure as such in his 1921 painting “A Pilgrim’s Progress.” Not much has changed since: Despite evolved historical insights, this iconic image of the American Pilgrim remains etched in the country’s memory.