But where’s the pile they said would rise,
Throwing its shadows o’er the wave,—
Lifting its forehead to the skies—
A Beacon far o’er land and sea,
Signal and Seal of Liberty.
A lottery to secure more building funds was next proposed. It was not unusual to allow lotteries in this period—churches, turnpikes, bridges, and even Harvard College—had received such grants. Public sentiment in Massachusetts, however, was beginning to consider lotteries a vicious practice and the director of the Bunker Hill Monument Association voted against one.
At this time, Amos Lawrence was a member of the building committee—a wealthy philanthropist of Boston, whose religion seemed to be fixed on two ideals, one of which was his charities. Unlike that of a few good ministers of the time, who had preached against giving funds for the monument because they felt their various charities should come first, Lawrence deemed the completion of the Bunker Hill Monument of first importance. This project became his other obsession. He enlisted the aid of the Massachusetts Charitable Mechanics Association in the campaign for funds. Started in 1795 by Paul Revere, and others, to promote a better understanding between master mechanics and their apprentices, this society had become influential; its membership embraced mechanics, manufacturers, and such honorary members as Ex-President Adams, Daniel Webster, and Edward Everett. Amos Lawrence had picked upon a well-managed organization for assistance; its executives were shrewd financiers and they knew how to get things done. The president of the Massachusetts Charitable Mechanics Association became in perpetuity the first vice-president of the Bunker Hill Monument Association (today he is still so listed). Thereafter, the Mechanics Association took an active part in the promotion and construction of the monument. It made a careful estimate of the cost to complete the monument and, much to Solomon Willard’s disgust, raised his allowance for contingencies. Both associations decided to be satisfied when the monument had reached the height of 159 feet, 6 inches—about two-thirds of the height previously determined upon.
Work was resumed on 17 June 1834, and continued until funds again gave out, when the monument was 32 courses high, 85 feet; now imposing enough for quite the good mariners of busy Boston harbor to take notice of. It was the year 1835, and the country was headed for a severe financial depression—a bad sign for those who sought contributions for any but the most practical of objectives. In this emergency, the women of New England again became active in the raising of funds.
In the summer of 1840, a common greeting of the women of Massachusetts was: “What are you doing for the Fair?” Those who knit stockings, crocheted in worsted of various colors, who were skilled in embroidered work, or who were merely good at plain sewing strove industriously to get ready for the Fair that was to earn money for the Bunker Hill Monument. Ten years earlier, the women of New England had made a noble effort to secure funds for the monument, but as the contributions from females and children had been limited to a maximum of $1.00 each, the total was small. Now, although the maximum sum ever raised at a Boston fair was $3,000, they felt that a sizable sum could be realized in a fair in Quincy Hall, near Faneuil Hall. Despite the criticism that “women were stepping out of their sphere,” Sarah J. Hale, the leading spirit in this remarkable effort, persisted.[10] Quincy Hall was 382 feet long by 47 feet wide, and it was crowded with the 43 tables of things to sell, when the seven-day fair started in September, 1840. A Whig Convention, in this year of a presidential election, undoubtedly helped to increase the attendance at this very successful fair. The price of admission on the first day was double that of the remaining days, which was $0.25.
[10] She was editor of Godey’s Lady’s Book for 30 years, and is credited with promoting the establishment of the last Thursday in November as Thanksgiving Day.