That is why this moment matters.
I wish to acknowledge Dr. Josh Perelman and his colleagues at the Weitzman National Museum of American Jewish History, whose vision helped bring this exhibition to life, and our very own Dr. Raimie Richardson, whose dedication helped carry St. Eustatius’ story into this remarkable space.
What has been created here is more than an exhibition. It is an act of historical restoration. It gives rightful space to a chapter of the American story that, for too long, stood quietly in the wings.
Today, it takes its place.
Only a few months ago, I stood within these walls with a delegation from St. Eustatius. We came with a story: one often treated as a footnote in history books, but carried with pride in the hearts of Statians. Today, we return to see that story given the prominence it deserves.
In the eighteenth century, St. Eustatius was known as the Golden Rock: one of the busiest and most cosmopolitan harbours in the Caribbean. At the heart of that prosperity was a vibrant Jewish merchant community. They understood the American cause not only as commerce, but as connection.
They opened warehouses. They extended credit. They helped move arms, ammunition, and supplies that George Washington’s forces urgently needed.
They were not soldiers. They wore no uniforms. Their battlefield was the harbour, the warehouse, and the ledger. Yet they chose the side of liberty with open eyes and steady hands.
On the fourth of July 1776, a new nation declared itself. But on the sixteenth of November that same year, the world first answered.
When the Andrew Doria sailed into Oranjestad and fired a salute, the response from Fort Oranje was more than protocol. It was a formal salute to the American flag by a foreign authority. It was a signal from a small island that the American cause had been seen.
That is why this history matters.
It is not abstract. It stands before us in objects that crossed oceans to be here: a cannon from St. Eustatius, headstones from its Jewish cemetery, and archaeological finds from Honen Dalim Synagogue. These are not merely relics. They are witnesses.
They speak of faith. They speak of commerce. They speak of courage. And they speak of the enduring link between the people of St. Eustatius and the people of the United States.
But courage carried a cost.
In 1781, British forces under Admiral Rodney seized St. Eustatius. Merchants were plundered. Vessels were taken. The Jewish community suffered deeply. The Golden Rock was forced to rebuild from ruin.
Statia paid a heavy price for its friendship with America.
Yet the story did not end in ruin. It endured.
In 1939, President Franklin D. Roosevelt recognised the significance of the First Salute with a commemorative plaque on St. Eustatius. In later years, plaques were also presented by the United States Virgin Islands and by organisations connected to the American Revolution.
These acts of remembrance matter. But this exhibition does something more. It invites the world to look again.
It invites American travellers, historians, students, cultural institutions, and all who care about freedom to discover St. Eustatius: to walk the streets of Oranjestad, to stand at Fort Oranje, to look across the bay where those cannons once answered, and to visit the ruins of Honen Dalim Synagogue, where history still speaks beneath your feet.
As we approach the 250th anniversary of the First Salute on 16 November 2026, I invite you to join us on St. Eustatius as we commemorate that pivotal moment at Fort Oranje.
This exhibition is a bridge across two and a half centuries. It is a bridge between island and continent, between memory and meaning, between what was nearly forgotten and what must now be remembered.
It reminds us that freedom is never carried by one people alone. It is carried through alliances, through sacrifice, through friendship, and through courage.
And it reminds us that small places can carry great consequence when they choose courage over silence.
Statia knew that before the republic existed.
And Statia still knows it.
Thank you.
