AMERICA 250 ANNOUNCES US ARTIFACTS TO BE INCLUDED IN TIME CAPSULE

But as I stood there, it struck me: Mount Rushmore is incomplete. 

Not because the four men carved into the Black Hills are unworthy of their place. Quite the opposite. Each earned it. Rather, Mount Rushmore tells only part of the story. It gives us images of larger-than-life figures frozen in time. But the United States was never built by famous people acting alone. 

Behind every George Washington stood a Robert Morris, who financed the Revolution. 

Behind every Thomas Jefferson stood a Richard Henry Lee, who proposed independence before the Declaration was ever drafted. For every famous founder whose portrait hangs in a museum, there were countless others whose names have faded from memory, even though their contributions helped make the American experiment possible. 

History remembers Washington. America needed everyone else, too. 

Take Gouverneur Morris. Most Americans wouldn’t recognize his name, yet they quote his words every time they recite the Constitution. He wrote a large part of the final text, including the line that anchors the whole document: “We the people.” 

Or Robert Morris, the merchant and financier who found ways to keep the Revolution funded when Congress was broke and the Continental Army was one unpaid bill away from collapsing. Washington may have led the army, but Robert Morris helped ensure there was still an army to lead. Revolutions run on ideals, but they also run on boots, muskets, flour, and credit. 

George Mason belongs on that list, too. He refused to sign the Constitution, worried it didn’t do enough to protect individual rights. His objections helped pave the way for the Bill of Rights. 

Mercy Otis Warren never held office or wielded a sword. Still, her writings made her one of the Revolution’s most powerful voices, shaping public opinion in support of independence at a time without social media, cable news, podcasts, or even electricity. 

Haym Salomon, a Polish-born Jewish immigrant, used his financial skills and personal resources to support the revolutionary cause when funds were desperately needed. His story shows that the U.S.’s success has long depended on those who arrived from around the world and helped build the nation they chose to love. 

James Wilson helped establish one of the defining principles of American government: that sovereignty resides in the people, not in kings or in states. Today, that idea sounds obvious. In the 18th century, it was revolutionary. 

Prince Hall urged the new nation to match its rhetoric about its ideals with reality, demanding liberty and equality for black people at a time when many preferred not to confront the contradiction between freedom and slavery. His voice reminds us that some of America’s greatest critics have often been its most devoted believers since they took the Declaration at its word. 

Richard Henry Lee introduced the resolution declaring that the colonies “are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States,” setting independence in motion before Jefferson ever put pen to parchment.

And John Dickinson, often remembered as the patriot who opposed immediate independence, demonstrated a vital democratic virtue we desperately lack today: principled disagreement. He believed the colonies should exhaust every peaceful avenue before breaking with Britain. When independence was declared anyway, he joined the cause and served it faithfully. 

None of these individuals stands atop Mount Rushmore. Yet without them, the U.S. experiment might never have started. History has a funny way of creating optical illusions. We look backward and see only the tallest figures because they are easiest to spot. We remember the generals, presidents, and authors of famous documents. But nations, like cathedrals, are not built only by the people whose statues stand in the square. They are built by thousands of craftsmen whose names are forgotten while their work endures. 

The American Revolution was no exception. It needed its celebrated leaders. But it also required financiers, writers, immigrants, dissenters, organizers, thinkers, and citizens willing to sacrifice for something larger than themselves. 

The same is true today. 

We live in an age obsessed with visibility. We count followers, clicks, views, and likes. We often assume the most important people are the ones receiving the most attention. 

The founders knew better.

The Revolution was supported by farmers, printers, merchants, sailors, teachers, ministers, mothers, laborers, soldiers, and immigrants. Most never had portraits painted. Yet they carried the burden of creating a republic built on the radical idea that ordinary citizens could govern themselves. 

That idea may be less radical today, but it remains fragile. 

The challenges facing the U.S. today differ from those of 1776, but the fundamental question remains remarkably similar: Can free people govern themselves? The answer will not come solely from presidents, senators, governors, billionaires, influencers, or media personalities. 

It will come from citizens who do the quiet, necessary work of self-government: teaching children, building businesses, serving communities, raising families, solving problems, telling the truth, and choosing cooperation over cynicism. 

John F. Kennedy captured this spirit in one of the most memorable lines ever spoken by an American president: “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.” The brilliance of that challenge is that it places responsibility exactly where the founders intended it to lie: with the people. Not with kings. Not with elites. Not with monuments. With citizens. 

For all our disagreements, we should not lose sight of how extraordinary the American story has been. 

In 1776, much of the world was run by kings, emperors, aristocrats, and hereditary privilege. Information traveled no faster than a horse could ride. Disease routinely devastated populations. Opportunity was often limited by birth, class, geography, and circumstance. 

The last 250 years have witnessed an explosion of human progress unlike anything previously recorded. The average person today carries more information in a smartphone than many heads of state possessed only decades ago. Humanity has dramatically increased life expectancy, connected billions of people through global communications networks, landed on the moon, mapped the human genome, and expanded prosperity and opportunity on a scale previous generations could hardly imagine. 

The U.S. did not achieve all of this alone. Nor has America always lived up to its highest ideals. Our history contains injustice alongside achievements and failures alongside triumphs. But it is hard to imagine the modern world without the political, economic, scientific, and cultural influence of the American experiment. 

The American experiment did not create modern progress by itself, but it helped usher in the most dynamic era of human advancement the world has ever known. 

That does not mean the work is done. 

The founders gave us an experiment, not a guarantee. 

Every generation receives the same task to preserve what is worth keeping, improve what needs fixing, and leave the republic stronger than it was found. The forgotten founders understood this better than anyone. They were not driven by the promise of fame. Most never expected future generations to remember them. They simply saw a responsibility and acted. 

Perhaps that is why Mount Rushmore felt unfinished. 

The monument celebrates great leaders, as it should. But the American story has never belonged exclusively to great leaders. If someone were to carve a monument to all the people who made the U.S. possible, the Black Hills would not be large enough. 

As we celebrate 250 years of independence, we should honor Washington and Jefferson. But we should also remember Gouverneur Morris, Robert Morris, George Mason, Mercy Otis Warren, Haym Salomon, James Wilson, Prince Hall, Richard Henry Lee, and John Dickinson. 

More importantly, we should remember what their stories teach us. The forgotten founders helped build the first 250 years. 

MENDING BROKEN RELATIONSHIPS: A FOURTH OF JULY STORY

The rest of us are responsible for the next 250. 

And if the U.S. succeeds, future generations may find that the people who save a nation are not always the ones whose faces are carved into mountains. Often, they are the ones whose names are barely remembered at all.

Jason E. Thompson is a member of the Utah House of Representatives.