You know there’s going to be a parade long before the Pawtuxet Rangers raise their muskets and fire a volley into the air.

I was too early for the volley and, in fact, seeing that it was spluttering rain, I questioned what I would find when I approached Spring Green Road in Governor Francis Farm on Saturday morning. The adjoining roads were free of parked cars, and it looked like many potential spectators had chosen to skip the 2025 edition of what has become a June tradition to commemorate the burning of the British schooner Gaspee on June 9, 1772. Might some of the parade regulars also have chosen not to make a soggy march down the parkway and across the bridge into the village center?

My hopes were lifted as I approached the parkway. It was alive. A police officer detoured traffic. The Rangers in all their spit and polish lingered in the open road, although there were tents nearby. Ray Morgan, who has seen every Gaspee parade since the first one 60 years ago, came over to say hello. He was wearing an off-white suit and a patriotic tie. With him was Mark Russell, who had recruited him to carry the historic mace at the head of the parade.

“It’s not hot. I can walk it,” Ray said confidently. Mark would drive the convertible following him should Ray, now 88, decide to take a break. While this was a first for Ray, it was a last for Ron Barnes as commander of the Rangers. He would step down in a ceremony that afternoon at Pawtuxet Park.

Ron looked up. The sky was gray and there was the occasional drop. “Holding off so far,” he said optimistically. And what would the Rangers do if the skies opened up? Ron didn’t pause to consider. They would keep marching, only they would shed their red woolen jackets and stay the course in their “whites.” I didn’t need the details nor, fortunately did I see the transition. It spat but it didn’t really rain. They kept their red jackets.

Elected officials started appearing. Senator Sheldon Whitehouse looked official in his suit and quite unprepared should the clouds open up. He lifted a tightly rolled umbrella. “It’s a good cane, too,” he said.

Bubbly as ever, Lt. Gov. Sabina Matos greeted me with arms open and a bright smile. She was going to march no matter the weather.

Ron motioned for me to follow him. The Rangers were gathering, yet it wasn’t near the start of the parade. They lined up in front of a tent where one of their ranks sat in a chair under the protection of a tent.

I’ve seen Jeanne Knowles for as long as I’ve attended Gaspee Days parades, or at least 50 years.  Adjutant General  Andrew Chevalier was there, as was Kasim Yarn, the state’s director of Veteran Services. Something was up.

Jeanne could tell. She got up to join her fellow Rangers. The general presented her with a coin. And Kasim had a presentation as well. Then, at Ron’s direction, the entire assembly sang happy birthday. It was one day premature, but totally appropriate as a prelude to a parade. Jeanne celebrated her 99th birthday the following day.

Jeanne has had a long relationship with the Pawtuxet Rangers, but not as long as with the Gaspee Days that sprung from Dave Stackhouse at a summer 1965 meeting at the Knowles’ home. Her husband, Hazard “Hap” Knowles, became president. Nine years later, during the bicentennial and while interest in Colonial militia was high, Bob Lynch talked of reactivating the Cranston Blues. Jeanne wouldn’t hear of it. She told Bob to reactivate the Rangers, and within two weeks he had the charter. At about the same time, Hoot Hartman started the fife and drum corps.  

She has been a Ranger for more than 50 years. For a while she was the unit nurse but tired of it.

“What the heck,” she remembers thinking, “I might as well learn the fife.” She did and still plays.

Jeanne recruited Ron 37 years ago.  She spotted him in the Cranston East band and thought he would make a great drummer. Ron probably wouldn’t have stuck it out if it wasn’t for another Ranger, James Collinson. As Ron recalls, Jim would call to let him know about rehearsals. Ron came up with excuses, but Jim didn’t accept them and said, “I’ll be right over.”

Reflecting on his 21 years as commander, Ron said his job was made easy because members want to be there. He is especially proud of a grant that has enabled the Rangers to fund an endowment that will grow and ensure their future.

And it all had its start when he was in school at Cranston East and Jeanne recognized a good drummer when she spotted one.