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Brothers Divided: A Frontier Family’s Revolution Sacrifice

A Depiction of Joshua Moses engagement at capture.

Imagine fleeing on horseback through the thick South Carolina underbrush, only to feel the sting of a British dragoon’s sword slashing your arm as you deflect a blow meant for your head. This was the harrowing fate of Joshua Moses in 1781, a North Carolina militiaman captured while visiting kin near the Wateree River. Wounded four times—a deep head cut, an arm laceration, a shoulder pierce, and a minor gash—he was bound and marched toward the chaos of battle. But Joshua’s story, like his family’s, reflects the deeper tensions of a war that pitted neighbor against neighbor and brother against the call to arms.

Life on the colonial frontier demanded every hand to tend farms and protect families. When whispers of rebellion against England rippled through the land in the 1770s, they ignited fierce divisions. In Anson County, North Carolina—home to the Moses clan—Loyalists (Tories) were a formidable force. Continental General Nathanael Greene estimated in 1781 that up to half of North Carolinians were Tories, dominating about half the state’s counties, including backcountry areas like Anson. Petitions from the era show roughly 227 Anson residents pledging loyalty to the Crown, compared to about 355 who had earlier protested colonial grievances as Regulators—a movement that often fed into Patriot support. This near-even split made open rebellion risky; many families chose neutrality to survive raids and reprisals.

John Moses Sr. and his wife, Jane, had settled in Anson County by the 1760s, raising likely four sons—John Jr., Joshua, Samuel, and Robert—and two daughters to adulthood before the war escalated. John Sr. likely died sometime after 1763, leaving Jane a widow in a turbulent time. As conflict engulfed the South, the pull to fight tugged at the brothers’ hearts, but someone had to keep the home fires burning amid Loyalist threats. Samuel stayed behind, farming and safeguarding the family stead, while Robert also remained neutral, later settling near the Wateree. Joshua and John Jr., however, answered the call.

John Jr., the eldest, had migrated south to South Carolina by the early 1780s, near the Wateree River. This was the heart of the brutal Southern Campaign, where British forces occupied much of the state, and local militias waged guerrilla warfare alongside Continentals under Greene. As a private in the South Carolina militia, John served 110 days in 1781 and 1782—short bursts of duty that might have included sieges like Ninety-Six or Augusta, or clashes with Loyalist partisans. His service, documented in state audited accounts, earned him a modest indent for pay, though no federal pension followed.

Meanwhile, back in Anson, Joshua (1748–1836) volunteered under Captain Williams in Colonel Thomas Wade’s regiment (DAR Ancestor #A082368). His unit patrolled Drowning Creek near the NC-SC border, scouting for Loyalists. In one skirmish on Brown’s Creek, they routed a Tory band without fatalities—a gritty echo of the Carolinas’ internal strife. After seven months, Joshua’s company received parole, sending him home on call.

Fate wasn’t done with him. Venturing to the Wateree—likely to check on John Jr. and Robert—Joshua was ambushed alone by dragoons. Captured and wounded, he was hauled toward Eutaw Springs (September 8, 1781), guarded amid the battle’s roar before transfer to Charleston’s crowded provost prison and then James Island. Nine months of harsh captivity followed. In a daring escape, Joshua and comrades paddled an old pirogue for three starving days, reaching Greene’s forces on the Ashley River. Greene granted rations and leave, with the war winding down after Yorktown’s surrender in October 1781. Credited with 16 months total (including imprisonment), Joshua later drew a $53.33 annual pension from 1831. Post-war, the brothers scattered into the wilderness they helped secure: Joshua to Whitley County, Kentucky, around 1813; Samuel to Monroe County, Tennessee; John Jr. and Robert to Jasper County, Georgia. Separated by miles, they carried shared memories of a divided era, passing tales of sacrifice down generations.

Let us never forget that farmers and frontiersmen bled to forge this nation. Patriots Joshua and John Moses Jr. are the uncles of this columnist, who descends from their brother Samuel of Monroe County, Tennessee who helped keep the home fires burning amidst the Loyalist threats.

The descendants of Samuel are included in Randall’s book A Mountain Pearl : Appalachian Reminscing and Recipes

Echoes of Valor: Frederick Emert’s Revolutionary Odyssey

Amid the crisp autumn air of September 1777, Private Johan Frederick Emert huddled near a flickering campfire along the banks of Brandywine Creek in Pennsylvania, his woolen coat—part of the standard Continental Army uniform, dyed a faded blue and frayed from months of marching—draped over his shoulders against the evening chill cleaning his musket.

Around him, the dense woods rustled with the movements of fellow soldiers from his Pennsylvania regiment, their tricorn hats tilted low as they cleaned muskets or shared meager rations of hardtack and salted pork. The distant rumble of artillery echoed from British lines, a grim reminder of the day’s fierce engagement where Emert and his comrades had charged through smoke-filled fields, dodging grapeshot and bayonets in a desperate stand against General Howe’s advancing forces. 

Born on October 11, 1754, in Berks County, Pennsylvania, to German immigrant parents, Emert enlisted as a private in the Continental Army around the war’s early days, likely in 1776, joining the 3rd Pennsylvania Regiment under Captain John Huling and Colonels Arthur St. Clair and Joseph Wood, part of the Pennsylvania Line under Brigadier General Anthony Wayne.

This unit was dispatched in May 1776 to bolster Colonel Benedict Arnold’s retreating forces in the northern theater. Emert’s movements indicate he would have been stationed at Fort Ticonderoga, where soldiers endured harsh conditions—fortifying defenses, drilling daily, and guarding against British incursions amid the rugged wilderness of upstate New York.

Compatriots’ recollections, passed down through family oral histories, paint a picture of Emert’s likely participation in the naval clash at Lake Champlain in October 1776, where American forces delayed a British invasion from Canada. As a private, his day-to-day activities would have involved sentry duty on the lakeshore, maintaining vessels or earthworks, and foraging for supplies in a landscape of dense forests and biting cold, all while facing shortages that left the army “suffering for provisions,” as he later recounted to neighbors.

By 1777, Emert’s regiment had shifted south, aligning under General George Washington. He fought at the Battle of Brandywine on September 11, where the Continentals attempted to block the British advance on Philadelphia. Amid the chaos of musket volleys and cannon fire, Emert would have maneuvered through open fields and wooded ravines, reloading his flintlock musket under pressure while coordinating with messmates like Peter Wallwur and Isaac Stewal—fellow soldiers he mentioned in stories shared years later. The defeat led to a retreat, but Emert pressed on, likely engaging in the subsequent Battle of Germantown on October 4, a foggy assault on British positions where close-quarters combat tested the resolve of Wayne’s men.

After a brief return home—where he married Barbara Anne Neidig—Emert was drafted again but hired a substitute, unwilling to leave his new bride. Soon after, another draft prompted him to enlist voluntarily for the war’s duration, committing to nearly seven years of service in total. His path under Washington and Wayne included stints near Quebec, possibly as part of northern campaigns or garrison duties, where harsh winters meant enduring frozen outposts and limited rations. In 1779, while residing in Rockland Township, Berks County, he further contributed through patriotic service by paying a supply tax to support the Continental cause.

Emert’s service culminated at the Siege of Yorktown in October 1781, a pivotal encirclement where French and American forces trapped Lord Cornwallis’s army. As a private in the trenches, he would have dug fortifications under fire, stood watch during bombardments, and witnessed the British surrender—a moment he vividly described to his children, who recalled seeing his honorable discharge papers before they were lost in a house fire.

Tombstone of Frederick Emert at Emert Cove Cemetery in Sevier County, Tenn. (Photo: FindAGrave.com /Randy Emert)

Discharged at war’s end, Emert migrated south, eventually settling in what became Emerts Cove, Sevier County, Tennessee, by the early 1790s. There, he farmed the fertile valleys of the Smoky Mountains, raising a family of seven children. The Daughters of the American Revolution recognizes him as Patriot Ancestor #A036640, his service is corroborated by Continental Army rolls, pension affidavits from sons Daniel and Frederick, daughter Barbary Shults, neighbor William Smith (who served with him in the War of 1812), clergyman John Roberts, and Elizabeth Henry (widow of another veteran).

These accounts, filed in 1843–1845 for his widow’s rejected pension claim (numbered R3345V for lack of further proof), emphasize Emert’s tales of army hardships, shared over fireside conversations, underscoring the endurance of ordinary soldiers who secured independence.

Though advanced in years at age 58, Emert answered the call to arms once more during the War of 1812, enlisting for a four-month campaign in the Tennessee militia where he served alongside his neighbor William Smith against British forces. This brief but dedicated service, as attested in affidavits from his Revolutionary War pension file, underscored his lifelong commitment to defending his adopted homeland, even as he managed his farm in Emerts Cove.

Emert passed on January 7, 1829, at age 74, his legacy etched in Tennessee’s landscape and the nation’s freedom. In an era of speculation about unsung heroes, his story—pieced from family lore and military records—reminds us of the quiet valor that built America.

Frederick Emert is the Fifth Great Grandfather of the Columnist Randall Franks.

See Randall’s Revolutionary War documentary The Making of The American’s Creed and short film The American’s Creed.

The Fifer Who Crossed the Delaware: The Night That Saved a Revolution

 

Every Christmas, hundreds of re-enactors gather on the Pennsylvania bank of the Delaware and push replica Durham boats into the black, ice-choked river. They are re-living the night of December 25–26, 1776 — the night George Washington’s ragged army made its desperate gamble to surprise the Hessians at Trenton and, in one audacious stroke, keep the American Revolution alive.

Among the 2,400 frozen men who stumbled ashore in the pre-dawn darkness was a 32-year-old fifer from Lancaster County named William Hedrick. He was no general, no celebrated captain, not even an ordinary musket-toting private. His weapon was eight inches of ebony wood. His job was to pipe the tunes that kept exhausted, frostbitten feet moving in step. By late December 1776 the cause looked lost. The Continental Army had been driven out of New York, chased across New Jersey, and pushed behind the Delaware. Enlistments were expiring. Desertions were epidemic. Congress had fled Philadelphia. Riding with the retreating columns, Thomas Paine scribbled the words that still ring: “These are the times that try men’s souls.

”Washington knew he needed a victory — any victory — before the army simply dissolved on January 1. So he chose the boldest plan imaginable: recross the river in a nor’easter, march nine miles through the night, and strike the Hessian garrison at Trenton at dawn.

William Hedrick’s company of Pennsylvania riflemen, led by Captain James Ross and attached to Major Abraham Ledsour’s battalion, was in the vanguard of that forlorn hope. Pension records and militia rolls place him in the column that formed at McKonkey’s Ferry around four o’clock on Christmas afternoon.

These were not ordinary soldiers. In the elite Pennsylvania rifle companies of 1775–1778, the fifer was first a rifleman who happened to play the fife. When the shooting started, Hedrick laid the instrument aside, shouldered his long rifle, and fought like everyone else.

By the time he reached the Delaware that Christmas night, he was already a hardened veteran. He had marched nearly a thousand miles on foot, fought in the disastrous Battle of Long Island, skirmished almost daily during the four-month retreat across New York and New Jersey, and watched the army shrink from 20,000 to barely 3,000 effectives. He had gone hungry, shoeless, and sleepless for weeks.

Imagine the scene. Ice floes thick enough to gut the boats crashed against the hulls. Men broke a path with oars and poles, advancing only yards at a time. Two horses drowned; two cannon nearly slid overboard. The password was “Victory or Death.” On that night it felt less like inspiration than weather forecast. The crossing took hours longer than planned. Instead of attacking at 5 a.m., the first troops reached Trenton after 8 a.m. — long after sunrise. Surprise seemed lost. Yet the same storm that delayed the Americans kept the Hessian pickets huddled indoors. When the Continentals finally poured down Pennington Road and King Street, many mercenaries were literally still pulling on their boots.

Washington had split his force. Sullivan’s division, including Hedrick’s riflemen, sealed the Assunpink Creek bridge while Greene struck from the north. In forty-five minutes it was over. Colonel Johann Rall lay mortally wounded; nearly 900 Hessians surrendered. The Americans lost only two men — both to the cold, not enemy fire.

On the icy road from the river to the town, Hedrick and the other musicians had played “Roslin Castle,” a haunting Scottish lament turned quickstep, and the insolent new favorite “Yankee Doodle.” The shrill notes cut through the gale and kept men from falling out to die in the snow.

Trenton was not the war’s biggest battle, but it was the most necessary. Ten days later came Princeton, and suddenly recruits were streaming back to the colors, and the Revolution had a pulse again.

William Hedrick marched on — through the mud of Brandywine, the snows of Valley Forge, the fog of Germantown — until an honorable discharge sent him home. He headed south to the mountains of East Tennessee, raised a large family, helped plant churches and communities in Sullivan, Greene, and Sevier Counties, and lived to the remarkable age of ninety-five. In 1839 he was laid to rest beneath a simple stone at Headrick Chapel Cemetery in Wears Valley, the notes of his fife finally silent.

The paper trail is solid: National Archives pension S.40495, Lancaster County militia rolls of 1777–1778, and sworn statements from comrades who remembered the fifer who played them across the Delaware and stood beside them through the horrors of Valley Forge.

So this Christmas, when you see Leutze’s famous painting on a card or coffee mug, look past the standing Washington. There, among the straining oarsmen and the swirling ice, among the men — no fancy uniform, no epaulets, no glory. A man with just eight inches of wood at his side and the stubborn heartbeat of a nation being born within him.

His name was William Hedrick. He was my paternal six-times-great-grandfather. Because he and thousands like him kept marching that night, we are still here to tell the tale.

“Victory or Death.”
They chose victory.

If you are a man in the Northwest Georgia area and have an interest in honoring the legacies of your patriot ancestors, visit General Nathanael Greene Chapter – Sons of the American Revolution https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61572762870391 to learn more about an organization you can join.

Echoes from King’s Mountain: Ancestors, Sacrifice, and the Songs of Freedom

As we draw nearer to the 250th anniversary of American independence, I find myself reflecting on the ancestors who answered the call to arms, ordinary frontiersmen who became heroes in the fight to free the colonies from British rule.
My fifth-great-grandfather, Charles Kilgore, was one of five Scotch-Irish brothers who heeded the Revolution’s summons. Born in 1744 in County Clare, Ireland, Charles traced his roots to the Kilgours of Fife, Scotland. Family lore connects them to Clan Douglas, fierce warriors who battled for Scottish independence and stood with the Jacobite risings of the 1700s.Around 1763, Charles and his brothers—Hiram, Robert, William, and James—crossed the Atlantic, settling first in North Carolina before pushing to the Virginia frontier. There, Charles married Martha McIlhaney, raised eight children on a 600-acre plantation, and joined the Washington County Militia under Captain James Dysart in Colonel William Campbell’s regiment. His four brothers enlisted alongside him. They were part of the legendary Overmountain Men, rugged settlers from beyond the Appalachian Mountains who embodied the spirit of the frontier.

In late September 1780, these men mobilized after British Major Patrick Ferguson threatened to “march over the mountains, hang their leaders, and lay waste the country with fire and sword.”
The brothers joined hundreds of others in a grueling 330-mile march over rugged terrain, enduring rain and hardship for two weeks to confront the Loyalists.
Their defining moment arrived on October 7, 1780, at Kings Mountain—a rocky, wooded spur on the North Carolina-South Carolina border that proved a pivotal turning point in the Southern Campaign of the Revolutionary War.
Roughly 900 Overmountain Men encircled about 1,100 Loyalists perched atop the ridge. Unlike traditional European line battles, the Patriots employed guerrilla tactics suited to the terrain: advancing uphill under cover of trees and rocks, using their accurate long rifles to pick off enemies while dodging bayonet charges.
The Kilgores’ militia charged from the north, pressing through thick smoke and the crack of musket fire. Hiram fell in battle; Robert and Charles were gravely wounded. Yet, they helped secure the summit as Loyalist leader Major Patrick Ferguson was slain, his forces crumbling in just over an hour.
From the southeast, my Sherrill kin—fourth- and fifth-great-grandfathers Adam and Samuel Sr., along with uncles

Uncle Col. John Sevier

Samuel Jr. and George—fought under my uncle Colonel John Sevier, their rifle fire converging with the Virginians’ assault.
On the southern flank, my sixth-great-grandfather Captain John Weir’s “South Fork Boys” pushed forward despite early losses, tightening the pincer that broke the Loyalists.The toll was stark: Loyalists suffered 157 killed, 163 wounded, and 698 captured—nearly their entire force—while Patriots lost only 28 killed and 62 wounded, a testament to their superior marksmanship and resolve.
In the aftermath, nine Loyalist officers were hanged for alleged atrocities, underscoring the war’s brutal, brother-against-brother nature.
This victory demoralized British forces in the South, boosting Patriot morale and prompting Lord Cornwallis to abandon his invasion of North Carolina.
Thomas Jefferson later hailed it as “the joyful annunciation of that turn of the tide of success which terminated the Revolutionary War with the seal of our independence,” paving the way for the decisive siege at Yorktown a year later.
Amid the chaos, my Loyalist-turned-Patriot ancestor, fifth-great-grandfather Captain Billy Green, initially defended the hilltop. Captured and sentenced to hang, he escaped and later realigned with the Patriots. This meant I had family on both sides—an experience echoed throughout history, from Scotland’s clan wars to civil conflicts worldwide.
On that fateful day, all five Kilgores stood shoulder to shoulder, shedding blood in a clash that shifted the war’s momentum. Charles, shot through the body, survived only because Martha and their young daughter Mary braved the wilderness in a wagon to retrieve him and bring him home to Virginia. Robert also recovered from his wounds, but tragically lost his life to Mingo Indians on December 31, 1782, during a hunting expedition. His family then moved in with Charles’s for a time.
Charles earned a pension in 1809 and passed away in Greene County, Tennessee, in 1823. His daughter Rebecca married Adam Sherrill in the 1790s, uniting two families of Kings Mountain veterans in bonds forged through shared sacrifice.

 

The Carter Family

Randall Franks (right) with Johnny and June Carter Cash and Bill Monroe in 1984.

Charles and his kin remind us that the Revolution was won by everyday men and women—farmers, brothers, and families—who rose to extraordinary heights. The five Kilgores symbolize the unbreakable ties that compelled them to leave their homes and fight side by side for freedom. Because they did, generations since have lived without bowing to distant monarchs.
On a personal note, I am privileged to descend from these men. Through the Kilgore roots, I share them as grandfathers with notable figures in Appalachian music: All three original Carter Family members—A.P., Sara, and Maybelle—are my cousins. Sara and Maybelle descend from Charles, like me; A.P. from brother Robert. Thus, connecting me also to the Johnny and June Carter Cash clan. These ancestors’ lives truly gave us all something to sing about. 

 

A Family’s Sacrifice in the Fight for Independence

As we ease our way toward the 250th anniversary of the founding of the United States in 2026, it’s worth pausing to reflect on the profound sacrifices that birthed our nation. On July 4, 1776, 56 delegates gathered in Philadelphia to adopt the Declaration of Independence, a bold assertion of liberty that ignited a revolution.

Like many Americans, my family tree is deeply entwined with that struggle. Twenty of my ancestors stepped forward as Patriots to fight for independence, while a few aligned with the Loyalists, and others may have served among the British regulars. Their stories unfold across the colonies, in famed battles like Brandywine and King’s Mountain, as well as obscure skirmishes known mostly to historians.

Recently, my research uncovered two more Patriot ancestors—a fifth great-grandfather and a fourth great-granduncle—adding fresh layers to this personal history. One such story centers on my fifth great-grandfather, John Samples, of Richmond County, Georgia. In 1777, he joined the Georgia Militia under captains aligned with Colonel Elijah Clarke, a renowned Patriot leader celebrated for his guerrilla tactics. His service culminated in the Battle of Alligator Creek Bridge on June 30, 1778, during the third and final Patriot attempt to invade British East Florida.

Authorized by Georgia’s assembly, the campaign aimed to seize St. Augustine and halt Loyalist raids, but it was doomed by command disputes between Continental General Robert Howe and Governor John Houstoun. By late May 1778, about 1,300 men—Georgia militia and South Carolina Continentals—had advanced into Florida. On June 29, Howe occupied Fort Tonyn near modern Hilliard, Florida.

The next day, a detachment pursued retreating Loyalist Rangers led by Colonel Thomas Brown south to Alligator Creek, a swampy tributary west of present-day Callahan, Florida, near U.S. Route 301. Likely led by Colonel James Screven’s cavalry and supported by Clarke’s militia of 100–300 men from Richmond and Wilkes Counties, the Patriots assaulted a British redoubt at the bridge. The terrain was unforgiving: dense swamps, a wide ditch, and felled trees that bogged down the cavalry.

Opposing them were British regulars, Loyalist militia (including Brown’s East Florida Rangers), and Native American allies, possibly Creek or Seminole warriors, totaling 200–400 men with a numerical edge. The British unleashed a flanking ambush, sowing chaos amid the lack of distinct uniforms.

The Patriots endured heavy losses: about eight or nine killed, nine wounded, and several captured, according to accounts from the American Battlefield Trust. Clarke himself was severely wounded, and Screven was injured. British casualties were lighter, around four or five killed.

The Patriots retreated, and the expedition unraveled by July 14 due to disease, desertions, and supply failures. John Samples was among those captured in the fray.

He was imprisoned at St. Augustine’s Castillo de San Marcos, where brutal conditions—starvation, disease, and abuse—claimed many lives. Tragically, he died there, the only ancestor I know of who gave his life in the war.

Tory raids later destroyed his Richmond County home, forcing his family to flee.

In the wake of his father’s death, my fourth great-granduncle, Jesse Sampley, enlisted in 1779 at age 15 or 16.

Serving under officers like Ensign William Luker and Captain James Ryan, he fought Tories and British forces until 1783, often in South Carolina and Georgia campaigns.

Jesse’s 1833 pension application and claims for war reimbursements provide the richest details about John’s service and the family’s hardships.

As we approach a decade of semiquincentennial commemorations—from the Declaration in 2026 to the Treaty of Paris in 2033—let us remember these unsung heroes. Their valor forged our freedom. Each year, honor their memory: visit a battlefield, read a history book, or share a family story. In doing so, we keep the spirit of 1776 alive.

Check out Randall’s film The American’s Creed.

Riding Dollar Back to Common Ground

I gripped Dollar’s reins as she spun 180 degrees, testing my rusty riding skills. With effort, I turned it into a full 360, regaining control. It had been 20 years since I’d last swung a leg over a horse, and I’d lost much of my knack. Yet Dollar stayed patient with me as we worked together on the set of The American’s Creed, a historical film set during the American Revolution. Horses, like humans, prefer the company of those they trust—and I was determined to earn hers.

Randall Franks (left) as “Capt. Robert Shields” with Dollar and Butch Culpepper as “Jeremiah Weer” with Charlie on the set of The American’s Creed. (Courtesy: Peach Picked Productions: Ashley Robillard)

I’d spent my childhood glued to westerns, both films and TV shows, dreaming of the open range. My Granddad Bill had lived that life, cowboying out west in his youth at the turn of the 1900s. From what I’ve heard, he was a fine horseman, punching cows and driving steers to market. I never got to learn from him—he passed before I was born—but those old westerns gave me a glimpse of what his adventures might have been like. As an actor, I longed to star in one, though I came up in the era of police dramas like In the Heat of the Night and endless sitcoms.

Filming The American’s Creed gave me a taste of that dream, even if it wasn’t a western. I was nursing a broken leg back to health, and mounting Dollar was a struggle. I climbed up the wrong side, awkwardly lifting my mending leg over the saddle. No doubt she was annoyed—and I couldn’t blame her. In life, we all get irked by folks who rub us the wrong way. But just as Dollar tolerated my fumbling, we often have to push past slights or annoyances to find a way forward.

That day, as I steadied her after her spook, I felt a flicker of the past—those western scenes where a horse bolts and the rider hangs on. Here I was, living it, albeit in a Revolutionary War setting. Over time, Dollar and I found our rhythm, syncing our timing and intuition to nail the scenes. By the end of the shoot, we were old friends. If I ever get to do a western, I’d love to ride with her again.

The greatest lesson came clear: people drift in and out of our lives, some for a moment, others for years. Like Dollar and me, we must seek common ground to avoid facing off like gunslingers in a dusty street. Hopefully, if it comes to that, Dollar would be waiting nearby—not for a getaway, but to carry me off into the sunset. Check out more about the short film, and its documentary at RandallFranks.com/The-Americans-Creed.

The American’s Creed

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The American’s Creed – Randall Franks


The American’s Creed and The Making of ‘The American’s Creed’

Celebrating the 250th Anniversary of the American Revolution with a patriotic short film and documentary.


Awards and Recognitions

About the Films

Thank you to our sponsors:

Our films were entered in over 70 film festivals worldwide. The American’s Creed was a finalist and screened at the Tatras International Film Festival in Slovakia, the JEFF (Jinju English Film Festival) in South Korea, Castle Rock Film Festival in Colorado, and the Will Rogers Motion Picture Festival in Oklahoma, among others. It premiered in Ringgold at the Colonnade and debuted publicly online on April 1 on Randall Franks TV.

The Making of The American’s Creed won the Bronze Award at the Spotlight Short Film Awards in January 2024, received an Honorable Mention at the Castle Rock Film Festival in Colorado, and screened at the Kalakari Film Festival in India and the Hollywood Best Indie Film Festival, among others.

These projects are broadcasting on Randall Franks TV on Rumble, YouTube, X, and Brighteon, marking the beginning of the 250th Anniversary of the American Revolution.

The American’s Creed (Instrumental)

Production Details

Director Randall Franks, known as “Officer Randy Goode” from TV’s In the Heat of the Night, wrote a screenplay inspired by the patriotic words of his kinsman William Tyler Page, penned in 1917 and adopted as The American’s Creed. Cinematographer Eric T. Jackson helped bring this historical drama set during the American Revolution to life.

Actors Randall Franks and Butch Culpepper on location in Chickamauga, Ga.
Randall Franks and Butch Culpepper in Chickamauga

In the storyline, American colonist Robert B. Shields of Virginia, played by Franks, responds to a request from his cousin George Washington to muster men from the western frontier for the revolution in the 1770s. The project was filmed in Chickamauga, Ga. at the historic Gordon Lee Mansion and surrounding locations.

Cinematographer Eric T. Jackson, Actor Evan A. Jackson, and Director Randall Franks
Eric T. Jackson, Evan A. Jackson, and Randall Franks

The cast includes Franks, Tina Brewer, Wesley Crider, Evan A. Jackson, Butch Culpepper, Ronald K. Melton Jr., Robert E. Jones, Maggie Suits, Donald Benkis, Elaine Benkis, Dennis L. Jones, Ashley Robillard, John Francis, Cassandra Group, Gabriel Group, and Colton Buckles. Actor/wrangler Butch Culpepper contributed his talents and his film horses, Charlie and Dollar.

Period costumer Tina Brewer supervised costumes, supported by Ronald K. Melton Jr. and Robert E. Jones. Special thanks to Kathy Graham of It’s Sew Time for donating a hair ribbon for “Capt. Shields.” Catering was provided by Choo Choo BBQ & Grill of Chickamauga.

Director Randall Franks guides actors Ronald Melton, Robert Jones, and Wesley Crider
Randall Franks directing Ronald Melton, Robert Jones, and Wesley Crider

Special thanks to the City of Chickamauga mayor, council, staff, and residents for their support during production.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Community Recognition

Randall Franks presented Bronze Award Posters to the City of Chickamauga Mayor and City Council, Catoosa County Chairman and Board of Commissioners, and the Fort Oglethorpe Mayor and City Council in April and May of 2025.

Trivia

Trivia: Actor/director Randall Franks, who portrays a cousin of George Washington in the film, is a close cousin of founding fathers George Washington, James Madison, and Thomas Jefferson.

Portrait of George Washington
George Washington

He is also a kinsman to John Adams and James Monroe.

Of the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence, 48 were Randall’s family members.

Tina Brewer as Sister Sophie with Maggie Suits as Jamie Shields
Sister Sophie (Tina Brewer) and Jamie Shields (Maggie Suits)

Randall is a member of the Sons of the American Revolution.

William Tyler Page, author of The American's Creed
William Tyler Page, author of The American’s Creed

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Music and Soundtrack

Randall Franks released the music video “The American’s Creed – Recitation” in October 2024 and the instrumental version to enhance the film’s patriotic theme.

Randall Franks and Wesley Crider recording at Tim Witt Studios
Randall Franks and Wesley Crider at Tim Witt Studios

The album The American’s Creed reached #7 on the AirPlay Direct Global Americana Albums chart and #40 on the TOP 50 Global Albums chart in April 2024. All tunes and songs charted in the top 40, with those related to the films landing in the top 20. The singles “The American’s Creed (Recitation)” reached #5 and “The American’s Creed Movement 2” reached #6 on the AirPlay Direct Americana Singles chart.

Randall Franks Album Cover
Randall Franks Album Cover

Radio can find recordings at AirPlay Direct.

Included on the album are performances by Randall Franks and the Hollywood Hillbilly Jamboree, two 40th Anniversary recordings with Bill Monroe and the Blue Grass Boys, and a 70th Anniversary Tribute to Andy Griffith’s What It Was, Was Football. Learn more at our webpage.

Special thanks to Greg Jackson for creating the art for the album cover.

Purchase the album on:
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Support the Project

Join us in bringing this project to film festivals and viewers worldwide. Support our efforts by purchasing merchandise, donating, or becoming a sponsor. Send checks to Randall Franks, P.O. Box 42, Tunnel Hill, Ga. 30755.


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Orders may also be sent via mail to Randall Franks, P.O. Box 42, Tunnel Hill, Ga. 30755.

The American's Creed T-Shirt
The American’s Creed T-Shirt