By RAY WYCHE

Today marks the 275th birthday of George Washington, a man whose contributions to the founding of the nation make him deserving of his title, Father of His Country.

Many anecdotes about the man have found wide acceptance in American life. Some of these accounts are true but, alas, some of the tales in this great man’s life are just that, tales — myths that sprang mostly from the fertile mind of one preacher-printer-author.

Mason Locke Weems (1759-1825) was an Episcopal rector in Maryland who decided that his talents could be more profitably used in other fields. So Parson — he preferred the title Parson rather than reverend, apparently — Weems deserted the pulpit for the printing press and the quill, becoming a printer and an author. He also added traveling book salesman to his resume.

Weems’ change of occupations occurred about the time of the peak of Washington’s popularity. Washington had led the ragtag Continental Army to an unlikely victory over the British. He was president of the convention of far-sighted men who produced our Constitution, and he became­–reluctantly– the first president of the United States.

The people of the new nation now had an honest-to-God hero, a duty-devoted, scrupulous individual eminently worthy of praise and honor. Weems was there to help venerate this hero.

Weems’ literary output, while not of the same quality as that of contemporaries Thomas Paine and Benjamin Franklin, had a strong moralistic tone aimed primarily at youthful readers. Washington, the upright, heaven-sent hero, was perfect fodder for Weems’ writing mill.

The greatness of Washington as a statesman cannot be overstated. But Washington the man is another story. Contemporary accounts not written for publication picture the Father of Our Country, despite his impressive 6-foot, 2-inch-plus height, as a colorless, unexciting, bland individual, more comfortable as a Virginia planter than as the leader of a new and growing nation receiving the accolades of citizens and kings.

What Washington needed was a good public relations expert to spice up his image, to juice up his personality to fit his accomplishments. Parson Weems was happy to fill the bill.

The erstwhile preacher turned out what was to be his masterpiece, a biography of the first president. The book was a resounding success; it was revised and reprinted until 1850 and people gobbled up accounts of their hero’s accomplishments. Unfortunately, Weems’ efforts did Washington little good; the ex-first president had been in his tomb at Mount Vernon about one year when the book came out.

In his praise of Washington, Weems had the Father of the Country being sent by God to save the people from slavery. Citizens compared the personality-challenged Washington to the Old Testament Moses, sent from on high to lead his suffering people into the promised land of freedom and prosperity. It was pure, unadulterated — and embellished — hero worship.

Parson Weems painted Washington as an exemplary church worker whose extraordinary, God-given leadership qualities were evident even in his youthful years. Later biographers followed Weems’ lead; his work was the foundation of later myths that glorified Washington the man — and were debunked during the next 150 years.

The most famous of Weems’ tales stresses Washington’s honesty: as a 6-year-old, confessing to chopping down the cherry tree, an account first noted in Weems’ edition of 1806. The story was 100 percent made up, historians now say.

The famous toss of the coin across the river is likewise a product of Weems’ creative abilities. The Potomac River at Mount Vernon is more than a mile wide, and throwing a silver dollar —which were not in existence at this time — such a distance would be an impossible feat, even for an Olympic champion. Evidence exists, however, that as a youth George did manage to sail a piece of slate roofing, Frisbee style, across the Rappahannock, a much narrower stream near his boyhood home.

Did Washington the young student serve as an arbiter of school boy fights? No record; it’s all part of Weems’ efforts to deify his subject.

Just how church-minded was our first president? Weems gave Washington a deep religiosity, more devout than his contemporaries remember. It was proved early on that the famous painting of Washington kneeling in prayer in the snow at Valley Forge is based only on what one eyewitness said he saw. Weems and other ministers used the episode as a missionarying tool, and it added to the early citizens’ fondness of equating Washington with Moses.

In fact, on his deathbed, Washington did not call for a clergyman or ask anyone to lead in prayer. He attended church regularly but would not take communion. One historian labels Washington’s religious life as “limited and superficial.” But Weems would have us believe him worthy of sanctification.

Even the false teeth of the famous man come in for de-mythizising. His store-bought choppers were not made of wood, as some biographers wrote, but were formed of ivory or of parts of animal teeth set in an ill-fitting lead liner around his gums. Gilbert Stuart’s famous portrait of Washington depicts a face distorted as if in pain, the jaw looking unnatural.

Washington doesn’t need the exaltation and deification that Weems attempted to give him. His deeds are testimony to his greatness.

Happy birthday, Georgie Boy, and don’t believe all your press clippings.