Re-Duel

Friday, February 25, 2022:

A history professor from Trappe, Maryland, a quaint Eastern Shore town, named Mickey Miller returned home after a 45-minute drive from Salisbury University. It is finally Friday night and his students had been a tough crowd the second half of the week. He sat down to relax in his brown leather La-Z-Boy after building a fire in his wood stove and pouring a glass of his favorite hard-to-find bourbon, Colonel E.H. Taylor Small Batch. The Revolutionary War era of American History was his forte. He loved it so much that he filled his library with biographies of the founding fathers. One he had been reading for the second time was “Alexander Hamilton” by Ron Chernow.

Something that bothered Mickey was Hamilton’s ultimate demise. Chernow posited that when Alexander Hamilton faced off against Aaron Burr, in the duel that ultimately took his life, that Hamilton raised his gun in the air not to avoid shooting but to allow Burr to take his life. Hamilton had lost his son to a duel, Philip faced off against George Eacker. Philip Hamilton, taking his father’s advice, raised his pistol and pointed it in the air to concede the draw before it happened but Eacker fired anyway. This was a loss Alexander would never recover from.

He knew Alexander’s story, after reading the biography once before, the second reading was to find answers. He knew Hamilton’s ideas, that were hard fought by founders like Thomas Jefferson, were responsible for how we live today. From the press to the banking system and everything in between. Hamilton served in the Continental Army, and became a great friend and right-hand man to General, then President George Washington. Alexander was only forty-nine years of age when he took that fateful hot lead ball to the abdomen above his right hip.

A few things kept Mickey up late at night about Hamilton’s story. Professor Miller queried what else would Hamilton have accomplished if he lived to be sixty years old, or even another fifty years like his wife Eliza. The next thing he wondered was, how Alexander Hamilton would have handled the duel with Burr if Philip was still alive, not taken from him due in part by his suggestion to be a man and raise his pistol to the sky. Lastly Mickey stayed up for hours wondering what he would have done if he was a part of Alexander’s inner circle, how could he keep Hamilton from being unfaithful. Keeping Alexander faithful to Eliza would lessen the chance that George Eacker would criticize Alexander, which in turn would keep Philip from confronting George Eacker. If Philip never confronts Eacker, then Philip would most likely end up a successful post-revolution citizen. Alexander would have lived a happy man, and perhaps even been elected President.

Two whiskeys deep, Mickey thought to himself, there has to be more. Hamilton had written at least twenty-two thousand pages in his forty-nine years on Earth. Mickey grabbed his keys and walked out to his 2015 green Chevy Silverado 1500 4x4, opened the door, got in and drove off. The whole ride back to Salisbury University he thought to himself out loud, “There has to be more to this story, Chernow can’t be right, Hamilton was on the rebound. Eliza and him had made up, he was gaining political capital again, and he still had major influence.” There is no way Hamilton committed suicide by not challenging Burr. He also knew that knowing more wouldn’t help or change anything. Feeling the alcohol and fighting dreariness and highway hypnosis of Maryland’s Route 50 East, he lived in this fantasy of helping Alexander as a close confidant.

He arrived at the University 45 minutes later, the time was 11:27 PM. He entered his office about fifteen minutes later, and poured himself another Whiskey, but not the good stuff, that was kept home. He scanned, scrolled and speed-read through thousands of lines of Alexander Hamilton’s text in the University’s electronic archives. He couldn’t find what he was looking for. He opted to walk to the library, which he had after-hours access to, to see what he might find in other texts written about Hamilton. Ten minutes from his office to the library and he was there. Scanning through the stacks he found five books dealing with Hamilton, and one Titled “Washington, America’s God? or Did He Have Help…From the Future”. The first half of the title was fitting, there are eye-witness accounts of bullets missing Washington that should have hit him. He was revered by Americans as a potential King, and by some accounts a god. He is even painted in a fresco on the ceiling of The U.S. Capitol building’s Rotunda. The fresco titled “Apotheosis of Washington” painted in 1865 by Constantino Brumidi depicts Washington as god-like ascending to heaven.

It was the second half of the title the caught his eye. “Future” he thought? This book was not listed in the catalog, and it wasn’t even available on Amazon. He skimmed through the text. He noticed illustrations in the middle of the pages by the dark edges visible with the book closed. When he decided to review the illustrations, there was a handwritten note on page 186 with what appeared to be a code, nothing too complex. He recognized the sequence of numbers. It was the Dewey decimal system and 527 stood out to him. 527 had nothing to do with history he thought, that was something to do with science. Upon lifting the post-it note there was a cutout in the pages, 20 or so pages deep. Inside a skeleton key. This caused goose bumps to run down Professor Miller’s neck, back, arms, then legs. He pondered all the possibilities. Is this a prank? The last time the book was checked out was July 3, 1992, the dust on the cover was a tell-tale sign of it lying untouched for many years.

Miller opted to go to section 527, it stood against a wall covered in wallpaper that hasn’t been changed since 1976, it was almond-colored with a paisley design. It was ugly yet hypnotizing. There was a lone spot on the shelf where this book fit perfectly. With the key in his pocket, he placed the book in the open space, when he heard a mechanical click. He was living in an adventure movie he thought, or perhaps the bourbon was getting the best of him. He stood in amazement as the bookshelf split in two. He said out loud “no way!?!” as he witnessed the shelves part ways to a single keyhole in the wall. It is now 2:00am, Saturday Morning, February 26, 2022. Professor Mickey Miller says, “What the hell”. He pulls out the skeleton key, inserts it into the keyhole and turns the key.

The wall clicks and creaks open from the corner of the room. Mickey retrieved the key and placed it in his zipped vest pocket and ventured over to the corner, where he slipped through the opening. As he entered the room, motion sensors tripped, and the plain room blazed in bright white lights from the LEDs installed in the ceiling. In the center of the empty room stood an IPAD mounted on a pedestal. The screen was lit, and the text read “DATE/LOCATION/TIME?”. Miller thought this was some sort of prank, or a place where students sneak off and smoke weed or fraternize. He playfully enters “11-23-1801, Weehawken, NJ, 4:00 AM”. Knowing this was the date and location of the duel that took Philip Hamilton’s life. Before hit pressed enter, he pondered, “what if this is real? How do I get Back? What will I change, if I change everything? Realizing it was most likely some Apple Encyclopedia app he pressed enter.

4:00 AM, Mickey opens his eyes, “I must have passed out in the library” he says out loud. He realizes that cannot be the case as he feels the rocking motion of being on a boat, he hears chirps and noises. He notices how dark the sky is, he has not seen the sky that dark since his last night visit to Blackwater Refuge in Maryland, one of the darkest night skies in the state of Maryland. He hears hushed voices of people he did not recognize, and the sounds of oars hitting the water. As the boat pulls on shore, a group of men exit the vessel and walk up on dry land. His vision has adjusted and he notes clothing he has only seen in reenactments, museums, and illustrations. The language is Olde World American English with a slight British accent. They are talking about strategy and plans. He hears one man say, “my father told me if I aim my pistol high in the air, George will take notice and not fire his weapon. Conceding the duel will save both of our lives.” Another man says, “that’s preposterous, you leave yourself wide open for a shot sure to mortally injure you.” The first man states “My father is Alexander Hamilton, and he may not be perfect, but he has been around duels his entire military career. I think he knows, what’s best!” Both men peer over to Professor Miller and say, well, what say you!? Everything hit him at once. That damn IPAD was a time-travel device and it worked! Having no clue how he would ever return, he had to think on his feet. He knew exactly where he was. He was in Weehawken, right there with Philip Hamilton and his pal, his “second”. Dawn was a bit off but quickly approaching as they knew Eacker would be arriving soon with his crew. Bewildered, and unbelieving Philip listened to a tale of time travel from two-hundred and twenty or so years in the future. This man knew of his father’s affair, the resulting downfall. Sounding like a prophet, Miller told Philip the stark truth of what history has written. Philip didn’t want to hear another word. Mickey proclaimed, “This duel, will be the death of your father, whether it be his will, or if he foolishly takes his own advice that he gave to you that will ultimately kill you!” The thought that, him conceding the duel still meant his death, and that his death would cause a downward spiral to his father made him rethink everything.

Philip knew that win or lose, when his mother, Eliza, found out, there would be hell to pay! But the thought of the guilt his father would lay on himself if he was shot and killed ate at him. He only had about 40 minutes to rethink his strategy. Philip instructed his second to negotiate a truce with George Eacker’s second. Eacker saw this as a sign of weakness and declined any truce. With a rage in his eye, Philip Hamilton knew right there, that this alleged time-traveler was on to something. He was wearing clothing that he had never seen before. Miller donned tighter fitting pants, a vest, and a shirt with a collar that had buttons running down the front. He was also carrying something rectangular with a bright light on the back of it that he called a “flashlight” and the opposite side was glossy and it glowed. Even with the prophecy this man told, Philip dared not disrespect his father and planned on still aiming the gun high.

It was time, the men met at the middle. Ten paces later, the men turned. Philip aimed high as planned, but Miller saw Eacker pulling his pistol, thinking quickly, he turned on the flashlight on his iPhone and shined it at Eacker’s eyes. This caused Eacker to flinch and shoot wildly. Hamilton noticing this, and realizing this strange man was right, lowered his pistol, pulled is trigger and hit Eacker right between the eyes. In a rage Eacker’s second aimed his weapon at Mickey Miller and pulled his trigger. All was black, and silence rang loudly in Mickey’s head.

Saturday, February 26, 2022, 7:00 AM

Blinding light scorched Mickey’s eyes. “Was this heaven? Was this hell? Was this a dream? Did, I assist in the killing of George Eacker? Was I shot?” Mickey said out loud to nobody, just himself. He then recognized the smell of books, old and new. He slowly opened his to the bright morning sunlight burning through the library windows. He shook out the cobwebs and got his bearings. He knew he was in the library. He also realized he needed to run back to his table where his books were. He closed the wall, and locked it with the key that was still in his zipped vest pocket. Grabbed the book titled, “Washington, America’s God? or Did He Have Help…From the Future” and the shelves returned back together seamlessly. He ran back to his table, thumbing through the eight hundred or more pages of Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow. There was nothing written about Philips death. It was detailed that when Philip Hamilton aimed his gun at the sky, something flashed blinding George Eacker briefly as he shot and missed Hamilton. Hamilton, then delivered the death blow right between George Eacker’s eyes the book read. There was nothing about Alexander grieving or even being depressed. He was still able to reconcile with Eliza, as Philip’s near death brought them closer. Hamilton still had his affair prior to the events that unfolded with Philip, this led to public distrust. Although Hamilton would never become President, he went on to live until age 99, dying alongside his beloved Eliza. Hamilton would write another 18,275 pages before finally retiring his quill for good. Eliza and Alexander would live until almost the breakout of the Civil War, but it never happened. Instead over the course of the next fifty years, Hamilton would continue his promise to his confidant John Laurens that all men would be regardless of skin color or religion. Amid tensions that continued over slavery Alexander was able to use his political influence to end slavery, and set up fair trade of goods, not men and women. Alexander and Eliza Hamilton died peacefully next to each other. Alexander never did duel with Burr. They were able to work out their differences and went their separate ways never to talk again after the election of Thomas Jefferson to the Presidency. Hamilton always cared so much about his legacy, and in the end his legacy was this, brave soldier and later officer of the Continental Army, confidant and right-hand man to General then President George Washington, Founder of The New York Post, Founder of the United States Financial System, the man who brought the country together, and held it together by ending the cruel and disgusting act of slavery and slave trade.

Professor Mickey Miller knew that he played an important role in this change in history and never told a soul. He purchased that book from the library that morning and locked it in his safe at his home in Trappe, Maryland. Would he go back again? Perhaps, but knowing this book could spell disaster in the wrong hands he locked it away for good, or until needed.

The End