THE REENACTOR PREPARES

The players amble into the auditorium on a cloudy May morning to run through their schemes and formations and make last-minute adjustments to the roster. Some are already in uniform — waistcoats and breeches — fueling up on Wawa coffee and bagels. Others scroll aimlessly on iPhones or finish off their cigarettes outside the Free Quaker Meeting House near Independence Hall. They discuss contingencies, ready their gear, and buckle their latchet shoes tight.

“Get out there and have fun,” their coach, Historic Philadelphia’s director of storytelling Johanna Dunphy, says as she sends her proud-chested team of historical reenactors off for their preseason opener.

This is the start of the team’s Super Bowl run: the lead-up to the nation’s Semiquincentennial. The cast of Ben Franklins, John Adamses, and Betsy Rosses — actors who have spent months and uprooted their lives to learn about and live as colonial America’s key characters — will be at the front lines of the 250th birthday celebrations, which began with the cast’s opening day on May 23 and reach a fever pitch on July 4. They will become de facto historians, guides, entertainers, and ushers to an expected crush of tourists, all while anchoring how the country’s earliest days are memorialized and whose stories get to be told.

“Fly!” Dunphy says with gusto as the performers shuffle out of the modest redbrick building.

This set of actors is part of Historic Philadelphia’s Once Upon a Nation program — a series of performances staged throughout the summer and beyond in Philadelphia’s historic district and at Valley Forge. It’s Once Upon a Nation’s 21st season, but this year is expected to be one of its biggest ever, with the most actors, plays, scripts, and events.

And, with tourism agencies expecting this summer’s events to draw upward of one million visitors, it’s almost certain to be the program’s largest audience.

“Philadelphia is ready for you,” Amy Needle, Historic Philadelphia CEO, told the players on the last day of the preseason. “And I know you’re ready for them.”

Actors, mostly local, file in and out of Jason Greenplate’s office on a chilly January afternoon. Greenplate, program manager for Once Upon a Nation, and his colleagues are seeking the strongest possible players who have the passion, the look, and the improvisational skills to take on the characters and become “history makers” — what Historic Philadelphia calls its reenactors. It’s essential for these coaches to choose players who are not only capable of taking on these roles but are also willing to challenge their own understanding of history.

Spencer Salusky, a 23-year-old fresh William & Mary graduate, walks through the door.

As a draft prospect, Salusky is an impressive pick. He can execute even the most complex of plays (tricky lines and blocking), and his stats (body measurements and head shape) are optimal.

“He kind of looks like John Adams,” Greenplate thinks.

After conferring with his peers, Greenplate chooses Salusky to become Once Upon a Nation’s next John Adams, and, one by one, 19 more actors are cast as history makers and storytellers, those who are stationed at the city’s historic sites in green polos to offer context to visitors. They join the existing 30 company members returning from prior years.

The actors soon begin their training. For Salusky, that looks like receiving a large packet full of biographical information about John Adams — where he was born, his wife’s name, and his perspective on slavery — from Doug Thomas, director of history makers.

Thomas is a player-coach, a star in his own right who can seamlessly transition to the coaches’ box. Like Deion “Prime Time” Sanders, Thomas is a Swiss Army knife on the field, having played every position in the game of historical reenacting, from William Penn and Patrick Henry to Francis Scott Key, and has been doing the work for nearly 30 years. But what makes him truly elite is his position as Mount Vernon’s George Washington.

Out in the field, the players might be blindsided by a granular question from a tourist, an offensive remark from a passerby, or incessant badgering from a child. On the stage — where the history makers also perform a series of scripted plays — they must be prepared to embrace their characters’ conflicting motivations, shifting attitudes on political issues, and complex interpersonal relationships.

Thomas is equipped to help them tackle it all.

He guides them in studying their characters, trains them on redirecting conversations with visitors toward topics they’re knowledgeable about, and teaches them improvisational techniques. He also prepares them to embody the voice, posture, and behavior of historical figures.

“Adams,” Thomas says, summoning Salusky during a rehearsal for Cocktails and Congress, a marquee performance in the Once Upon a Nation repertoire.

On a scorching 95-degree afternoon that foreshadows what the players can expect during the steamy home games to come, Thomas scans the script, glasses poised atop silky black hair that grazes his shoulders. He directs Salusky’s attention to a moment in the dialogue: “Slavery is like a great cancer.”

He cautions the actor to be careful with how he utters that line. Adams is torn about slavery at this point in his life, Thomas explains.

“He doesn’t like it, he doesn’t support it, but also he does realize very practically what eliminating slavery would do to the economy,” Thomas tells Salusky.

Salusky contemplates the note, sitting on a Meeting House pew with a mechanical pencil tucked behind his ear.

“Adams is evolving,” Thomas tells him. But “he’s a practical man.”

Even with centuries of primary and secondary sources, and extensive research, there are still gaps in what’s known about 18th-century American life that the actors and program coordinators must contend with. There’s a trove of information on John Adams, for example, but the documented lives of women and people of color are far less complete, like that of Hannah Till, an enslaved cook for George Washington at Valley Forge, who purchased her freedom. What’s known about Till is often centered on her enslavers.

West Philadelphia actor Miranda Thompson, who portrays Till as well as Sarah, a fictional composite character in Cocktails and Congress, relies on more general information about how women of color lived during the colonial era to inform her performance. “You just want to get it right,” Thompson, 43, says. “You want to give truth to who that person was. … I feel like if I’m grounded and honest within that interpretation, I think that I’ve done it justice.”

For historian Sandra Mackenzie Lloyd, who authored many of the Once Upon a Nation scripts and founded the Benstitute — the immersive training program the actors undergo — the American story is about “more than the dead white dudes.”

“We are people who have been through many difficult periods and ups, downs. This is a country that was created by people from many places with different beliefs, and that’s historic, and it’s contemporary.”

“It’s not a straight line,” Lloyd says. “We are people who have been through many difficult periods and ups, downs. This is a country that was created by people from many places with different beliefs, and that’s historic, and it’s contemporary.”

Organizers were intentional about the stories and figures they chose to platform this summer, centering diverse and layered voices in the narrative of the nation’s founding, including those of Black Americans whose stories have been omitted in the retellings of the story of 1776.

“Our history is being erased, voting rights [are being erased], certain books are banned,” Thompson says. “Representation matters … to know that we were there, and we played an important role.”

Prominently featuring Black history during the 250th, she says, is also an opportunity to dismantle racist, archaic stereotypes about enslaved people through authentic storytelling and connection.

“You can change a person’s mind,” Thompson says. “We’re human, we can always change our minds.”

Preparations for the reenactors include not only character work, but also tourism and hospitality training. They learn how to guide someone to the best cheesesteak or nearest toilet while staying in character and using period-appropriate vernacular. The actors also learn how to beat the heat in wool frocks and petticoats and stay safe.

“Make sure to hydrate, hydrate, hydrate,” Dunphy, the storytelling director, tells her team during a morning gathering at the Meeting House before they hit the streets in costume, and a set of volunteer fake tourists heads out to test the reenactors’ skills before they’re faced with real tourists.

She points them to a packet in their supply bags full of powder to pour into their water for extra hydration.

“Drink this,” she instructs them.

Most importantly, Dunphy reminds both the history makers and the storytellers what to do if they’re out in the field and feeling unsafe.

“History makers, please remember this: If a storyteller says, ‘Have you seen John Adams?’ Don’t be cute. That is a plea for help; they need you to stay with them. It is not a joke. They need you to stay,” she says. “Things can turn on a dime.”

And, as this is live performance, things often don’t go according to plan.

During an April news conference at which a Betsy Ross and a Benjamin Franklin from the company stood onstage beside Gov. Josh Shapiro, a giant poster reading “America 250 PA” fell forward, scraping Franklin’s behind.

Carol Spacht, the Betsy Ross at the event, acted quickly.

“This is such an exciting announcement that the world is falling apart over it,” she exclaimed after the poster came down, gesticulating with a scroll clasped in her hand before turning to the Benjamin Franklin reenactor, Bill Robling.

“Quite all right, Dr. Franklin?” she asked as he nodded. “We’re sturdy at our age. 250 years does that.”

“Speaking in 18th-century tongue continuously, I am nervous about that. I want to portray it real.”

At a recent event at Reading Terminal Market, Salusky, as John Adams, had to navigate how to handle tourists approaching him, thinking he was Benjamin Franklin.

“As John Adams, how do I react to people thinking I’m Ben Franklin. Well, he was a mentor of his. He really admired him, found him annoying, but would still be a little flattered,” Salusky says. “It’s kind of just like in-the-moment problem-solving.”

Over the course of their four months of training, the actors finally reach a place of feeling ready for anything … mostly.

“Speaking in 18th-century tongue continuously, I am nervous about that,” Thompson says. “I want to portray it real.”

Before the actors are on their own on the Philly streets, they and their mentors celebrate the completion of their Benstitute training with a graduation ceremony at the Free Quaker Meeting House.

Graduates file in, some in polos and slacks and some in costume, all wearing red, white, and blue tassels dangling from the center of their mob caps and other historical hats. They sit in the pews, players awaiting the game-time whistle, as their coaches offer them final words of encouragement before they put their drills to the test and tackle the real world, beginning with their season’s opening day — their fervor not letting up until they run through the proverbial tunnel onto the championship field for July 4.

“History is not just about buildings, artifacts, and famous moments. It is about people — their choices, their struggles, their disagreements, their courage, their hopes for the future,” says Steven Sims, superintendent of Independence National Historical Park. “Long after visitors leave Philadelphia, they may not remember every date they heard or every building they toured, but many will remember how someone made them feel connected to history. Many will remember you.”

One by one, the reenactors and storytellers cross the stage, graciously accept their diplomas, smile for photos, and return to their seats.

“Class of 2026, please stand up,” says Amy Needle, the Historic Philadelphia CEO. “Change your tassels. Congratulations! George Washington?”

“Class of 2026,” a Washington reenactor calls. “Hip hip.”

“Huzzah,” they respond.

“Hip hip,” he repeats.

“Huzzah!” they conclude as audience members deploy tiny silver confetti cannons and red, white, and blue rain down upon them.