Tuesday, January 6, 2025
In 2026, the United States turns 250.
That milestone invites all kinds of reflection; on independence, on institutions, on how a collection of colonies became a country. This year, I want to spend some time on an aspect that won’t be honored with splashy fireworks or trumpeted during celebrations – but that was entirely elemental and fundamental to this nation’s birth and its endurance: land. Who owned it. Who didn’t. Who thought they did. And what happened when those answers didn’t line up.
Long before there was a Constitution, there were land disputes. Deeds overlapped. Boundaries were vague. Records were missing or contradictory. And beneath all of it were very different ideas about what it meant to “own” land in the first place. Ownership could mean control, inheritance, use, occupation, or authority — sometimes all at once, sometimes none of the above.
Land was power. It was wealth. It was stability. It was also, at one point, a requirement for full participation in civic life. Property ownership shaped who could vote, who could borrow, and who was considered invested in the future of the country.
Property ownership was never just about property.
As the nation grew, the complications multiplied. Colonial charters conflicted. States argued over boundaries. The Founders themselves were caught up in land speculation that didn’t always go as planned. Indigenous nations were sequestered through treaties that were unevenly enforced or ignored altogether. Courts were left to sort through the aftermath — deciding which claims held, which failed, and whether certainty was ever really possible.
Out of that uncertainty came systems. Surveys. Recording offices. Legal doctrines. And eventually, title insurance. Not because the process was simple or elegant, but because people kept making mistakes; and those mistakes had consequences. Over time, practices developed to reduce risk, create order, and make land ownership more dependable than it had been before.
Over the course of this year, I’ll be sharing a series of stories that trace how that happened. Some are well known. Others are strange, obscure, or unexpectedly human. Together, they offer a different way to look at American history; through the everyday question of who owned what, and how we decided.
This isn’t meant to be exhaustive, or overly technical. It’s just an invitation to look more closely at the systems we’ve inherited, and the long trail of disputes, compromises, and corrections that built them.
I hope you enjoy the perspective. Let’s have fun.
Until Next Time,
Mary Schuster
Chief Knowledge Officer
October Research, LLC