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STORIES OF
NEW JERSEY
From the collection of the
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P M
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5tories Of
Jersey
ITS SIGNIFICANT PLACES,
PEOPLE AND ACTIVITIES
Compiled and Written by the
Federal Writers' Project of
the Works Progress Admin-
istration for the State of
New Jersey
Profusely Illustrated
M. BARROWS AND COMPANY
1938 NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1938, BY THE
NEW JERSEY GUILD ASSOCIATES, INC.
All rights reserved
Sponsored by The New Jersey Association of Teachers
of Social Studies
New Jersey Guild. Associates, Inc., Co-operating Sponsor
SOLE DISTRIBUTORS
R A D E M A E K E R S
NEWARK NEW JERSEY
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
BY J. J. LITTLE AND IVES COMPANY, NEW YORK
PREFACE
This volume of Stories of New Jersey is the result of a
two-year experiment carried on by the Federal Writers'
Project in New Jersey. In November 1936, after consul-
tation with several educators, the Project began issuing to
the schools and libraries of the State periodical pamphlets
dealing with significant aspects of New Jersey life.
The first issue of 3,000 copies was sent to those school
principals who had indicated an interest in the service.
The demand for additional copies was so great and the
reputation of the service grew so rapidly that the issue Had
to be increased to 10,000 copies, which is the maximum
possible by the reproduction method used. Thirty Stories
were distributed during 1936-37, and twenty during
1937-38.
The service was designed to stimulate the interest of
New Jersey school children in the affairs of the State and
to supply the schools with data, not otherwise available, to
supplement the curriculum of the social study courses.
There has been no attempt to follow a particular course
of study or to deal with any one period or activity.
In response to requests from students, teachers, librar-
ians and historians, urging that this material be put in
more permanent form, some of the original bulletins have
been reprinted here. Several new Stones have been sub-
stituted for those which seemed to have less value as refer-
ence material. As the work continues new material will
IV PREFACE
be presented with the hope that there will eventually be
accessible a collection of useful New Jersey material.
In an effort to avoid error we have indebted ourselves
to many experts, too numerous to list here. We are espe-
cially grateful to The New Jersey Association of Teachers
of Social Studies for their encouragement in the prepara-
tion of this volume and for their support in sponsoring it.
IRENE FUHLBRUEGGE, State Director
VIOLA HUTCH INSON ) A
c T-, > Assistant state Directors
OAMUEL EPSTEIN
FOREWORD
The most interesting and charming pamphlets written
and distributed by the Federal Writers' Project in New
Jersey during the years 1936, 1937 and 1938 were wel-
comed so enthusiastically by the schools and libraries of
our State that The New Jersey Association of Teachers of
the Social Studies moved to promote publication in a more
permanent form. These stories of historic spots, person-
ages, and unusual industries of New Jersey, presented in
a single volume, afford valuable supplementary reading
material for use in our schools. For these reasons The New
Jersey Association of Teachers of Social Studies is very
happy to join with The New Jersey Guild Associates in
sponsoring this volume.
The Federal Writers' Project in New Jersey deserves
great credit for rendering this unique service to our State.
To them, alone, all honor is due for the painstaking care
with which the facts have been gathered, the articles writ-
ten, and the stories edited. Both admiration and gratitude
for this achievement prompts The New Jersey Association
of Teachers of Social Studies to state that its sole con-
tribution to this volume has been that of urging for it a
wide circulation and a useful life.
THE NEW JERSEY ASSOCIATION
OF TEACHERS OF SOCIAL STUDIES
WORKS PROGRESS ADMINISTRATION
HARRY L. HOPKINS, Administrator
ELLEN S. WOODWARD, Assistant Administrator
HENRY G. ALSBERG, Director Federal Writers y Project
CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFACE iii
By Irene Fuhlbruegge, State Director, Federal Writers'
Project.
FOREWORD v
By The New Jersey Association of Teachers of Social
Studies.
PLACES
RINGWOOD MANOR STATE PARK IJ
OLD OXFORD FURNACE 2D
ROCKAWAY RIVER 33
COLONIAL HOUSES OF NEW JERSEY 40
MORRISTOWN NATIONAL HISTORICAL PARK 46
PATERSON, THE "FEDERAL CITY" 58
NEW JERSEY'S FIRST SUMMER RESORT 63
CRADLE OF THE TELEGRAPH 69
A CONFEDERATE SHRINE IN NEW JERSEY 79
BIRTHPLACE OF GROVER CLEVELAND 84
ANIMAL QUARANTINE 92
LIVING LANDMARKS 96
PEOPLE
MARK NEWBIE, AMERICA'S FIRST BANKER 1 07
THE SWEDISH SETTLERS I I 2
THE TEA BURNERS OF GREENWICH 125
NEW JERSEY'S DELEGATES TO THE FEDERAL CON-
STITUTIONAL CONVENTION, 1787 129
vii
Vlll CONTENTS
PAGE
BIRTHPLACE OF HANS BRINKER 142
STEPHEN CRANE 146
THE LAST DAYS OF WALT WHITMAN 154
CLARA BARTON, IN SCHOOL AND WAR 158
JOHN HOLLAND, SUBMARINE INVENTOR 1 66
WORKING AND LIVING TOGETHER
NORTH AMERICAN PHALANX 175
FREE ACRES 187
CONSUMERS' COOPERATIVES 194
EGG AUCTION 201
THE SEEING EYE 2O4
JERSEY HOMESTEADS 20Q
SERVICE FOR THE PUBLIC
SAFEGUARDS OF OUR COAST 2IQ
FOREST FIRE FIGHTERS 232
STATE POLICE 240
REFORESTATION IN MULLICA WATERSHED 250
AGRICULTURE
CRANBERRIES 259
JERSEY TOMATOES 265
BABY CHICKS BY THE MILLION 274
DAIRY FARMING IN NEW JERSEY 279
JERSEY PEACHES 290
INDUSTRY
VANISHED BOG-IRON INDUSTRY 297
TWO CENTURIES OF GLASSMAKING 307
LEATHER MAKERS OF NEWARK 32O
GOLD BEATERS 329
ROMANCE OF THE ROEBLINGS 333
CONTENTS IX
PAGE
THE STORY OF LENOX POTTERY 343
PHONOGRAPH TO TELEVISION 350
DELAWARE BAY OYSTERS 357
THE AGE OF PLASTICS 365
CEDAR MINING IN NEW JERSEY'S SUNKEN FOREST 374
TRANSPORTATION
JOHN FITCH AND HIS STEAMBOAT 383
THE FIRST RAILROAD IN NEW JERSEY 394
THE MORRIS CANAL 4O2
THE LINCOLN TUNNEL 413
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
RINGWOOD MANOR 1 6
REVOLUTIONARY RELICS 23
OXFORD FURNACE 2J
THE FALLS OF THE ROCKAWAY AT BOONTON 34
THE ROCKAWAY RIVER BASIN (MAP) 38
DEMAREST HOUSE 4!
HANCOCK HOUSE 44
WASHINGTON'S HEADQUARTERS, MORRISTOWN 47
REVOLUTIONARY HOSPITAL, JOCKEY HOLLOW 55
THE PASSAIC RIVER FALLS 59
SUMMER VISITORS AT CAPE MAY 64
BATHING COSTUMES OF THE 'go's 68
THE CRADLE OF THE TELEGRAPH 73
FINN'S POINT CEMETERY 80
GROVER CLEVELAND 84
THE MANSE, CALDWELL 85
BURLINGTON SYCAMORE 98
SALEM OAK IOO
PATRICK'S PENCE 108
FOUNDING OF NEW SWEDEN 113
GOVERNOR JOHAN PRINTZ 117
SWEDISH STAMPS 123
TEA BURNER MONUMENT, GREENWICH 128
BENNETT HOUSE, PARSIPPANY 13!
DAVID BREARLY'S CAMP DESK 135
THE MAPES FARM 145
BUST OF STEPHEN CRANE 147
WALT WHITMAN'S HOME, CAMDEN 157
CLARA BARTON'S SCHOOL, BORDENTOWN 161
xi
Xll ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
HOLLAND SUBMARINE, PATERSON 167
THE PHALANSTERY AT PHALANX 176
BLOOMER COSTUME, PHALANX I 86
HENRY GEORGE 187
OUTDOOR THEATER, FREE ACRES 1 90
A CO-OP STORE 196
THE SEEING EYE 2O5
A KITCHEN CORNER, JERSEY HOMESTEADS 2IO
WINDOWS, JERSEY HOMESTEADS 211
EXTERIOR OF A JERSEY HOMESTEAD 213
SANDY HOOK LIGHTHOUSE 221
BARNEGAT LIGHTHOUSE 225
SHIP JOHN SHOAL LIGHT 227
SCOTLAND LIGHTSHIP 22Q
MEN AGAINST THE FLAMES 235
TRAINING IN HORSEMANSHIP 244
THE FIVE-MILE DAILY RUN 245
TROOP HEADQUARTERS, STATE POLICE 248
MULLICA RIVER BASIN (MAP) 25 I
TOMATO PICKERS 266
SPECIMEN TOMATOES 270
INCUBATORS 275
PACKING DAY OLD CHICKS 276
A SUSSEX COUNTY DAIRY FARM 280
THE ROTOLACTOR 286
MOTHER JUBILEE TREE, NEW BRUNSWICK 293
BOG IRON RELICS 3 02
OLD MILL AND POND, BATSTO 303
OLD WISTAR GLASS 3^
BLOWING QUARTZ GLASS 3 J 9
"FLESHING" A HIDE 324
ROEBLING WIRE MILL 334
GEORGE WASHINGTON BRIDGE 34 l
FIRST AMERICAN BELLEEK 34^
ILLUSTRATIONS Xlll
PAGE
LOADING A KILN 347
RECORDING, RCA STUDIOS, CAMDEN 353
CONSTRUCTING A TELEVISION TUBE 355
THE OYSTER FLEET, MAURICE RIVER 36 2
OYSTER "SETS" 364
PLASTIC GEARS 369
RESINOID WATERPROOFING 37 O
LUCITE 371
PROBING FOR CEDAR LOGS 375
CEDAR PLANKS 378
JOHN FITCH'S STEAMBOAT, 1786-87 386
JOHN FITCH'S STEAMBOAT, 1788-89-90 389
STONE TIES, CAMDEN AND AMBOY R.R. 398
THE JOHN BULL 399
MORRIS CANAL AT DENVILLE 404
MORRIS CANAL AQUEDUCT 405
ROUTE OF MORRIS CANAL (MA?) 412
CHART OF OPERATIONS, LINCOLN TUNNEL 415
All photographs not otherwise credited are by the
New Jersey Writers' Project staff photographers
PLACES
A
RINGWOOD MANOR
RINGWOOD MANOR STATE PARK
Ringwood Manor, a fine old estate that resembles an
outdoor museum, is the newest New Jersey State park.
Within the 7 8 -room mansion and scattered indiscrim-
inately about the grounds is an amazing collection of
relics, art objects and knicknacks. A great iron cogwheel
leans against a tree ; a huge mortar planted on the front
lawn is aimed toward the adjoining lake; stretching along
a terrace are 24 enormous links of the great iron chain
that was stretched across the Hudson to protect West
Point from British warships 5 and throughout the formal
gardens are newel posts and iron gates, marble columns
and statuary, ancient millstones and the bleached skulls of
long-dead cattle in which birds find convenient nesting
places.
Ringwood Manor lies between the wooded slopes of a
rugged little valley at the northern end of Wanaque
Reservoir, only a mile from the New York State boun-
dary and about 10 miles southwest of Suffern, New York.
The Manor House and about 100 acres of land were given
to the State in 1937 by Erskine Hewitt, the last owner
of an estate once occupied by early iron manufacturers.
The iron mined in the nearby hills was converted at
the Ringwood forges into munitions and field equipment
for Washington's army, and the plant continued in opera-
tion long after modern methods of smelting and forging
had carried iron manufacture to other regions. Until 1931
Ringwood was the center of an active community. The
17
1 8 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
pretentious house and gardens, the many relics and ob-
jects of art gathered from all parts of the world reflect
the importance of the owners and the wealth they took
from an estate that once covered 15,000 acres in the
Ramapo hills.
On the path before the house are crushing stones and
grindstones found in the vicinity. They indicate that the
section was an Indian camp site. About 1739 Cornelius
Board, a Welsh miner then living at Little Falls, learned
from the Indians that there was iron ore in the Pompton
mountains. They led him to the head of the Ringwood
River, a branch of the Pequannock, and there he built a
small furnace. In May of the following year Board sold
the furnace and 16 acres for 63 to the Ogden family,
residents of Newark, who had been surveying the iron
fields of northern New Jersey and had bought up several
water-power sites along the Pequannock River.
It was the Ogdens who gave the northern New Jersey
iron industry its start. They built a splendid house and
several smaller dwellings and carried on an active trade in
forged iron which was shipped by mules to points on the
Hackensack and Passaic Rivers, where it could be trans-
ferred to boats.
Word of this promising enterprise came to the ears of
Peter Hasenclever, a shrewd German promoter. He went
to London and persuaded people influential in court
circles to buy shares in a company that was to develop
resources in the new world. It is said Queen Charlotte
and some of her maids of honor subscribed. The new con-
cern was called the American Iron Company, and Hasen-
clever was sent to America as resident manager.
In the New York Mercury of March 5, 1764, appeared
an advertisement offering for sale the Ogden properties
RINGWOOD MANOR STATE PARK IQ
on the Ringwood River. This Hasenclever bought for
5,000, together with additional lands at Long Pond, in
all 1 5,000 acres.
He imported several hundred workmen from Germany
and Ireland j rebuilt the Ogden residence, put up cabins
for the workmen, storehouses, a gristmill, a sawmill and
a stamping mill and constructed dams to provide water
power. The mines and forges prospered, and so did Hasen-
clever.
The company was also interested in iron properties in
New York State along the Mohawk River, where 50,000
acres had been acquired. In two years Hasenclever had
spent 54,600, which was 14,400 more than had been
pledged j but no money had found its way back to the
stockholders. Hasenclever's management of the company's
affairs was brought into question, and he returned to Eng-
land to find that his associate there was bankrupt and had
allowed the concern to become seriously involved. After
restoring his credit abroad, Hasenclever returned to Amer-
ica in 1768, but in his absence the American interests had
likewise fallen into danger.
At Hasenclever's request, Governor William Franklin
appointed a commission of four appraisers to investigate
the management of the Ringwood, Long Pond and Char-
lotteburg properties. Their report upheld Hasenclever's
conduct j they argued that he needed only more time to
put the American Iron Company on a paying basis. Never-
theless, Hasenclever could obtain no further credit, and he
returned to London bankrupt in 1769. A photostatic copy
of the book recounting the proceedings against the Ger-
man promoter is in the Ringwood Manor House. He de-
fended himself in The Remarkable Case of Peter
Hasenclever, published in 1773, but it was 1787 before
2O STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
his rights were secured in the Chancery Court of London.
By that time Hasenclever had recouped his losses and
become a successful merchant in Landeshut, Germany.
After Hasenclever's return to England John Jacob
Faesch, one of the great early ironmasters and an asso-
ciate of Hasenclever, was left in charge. Then, in 1771,
the management of the Ringwood properties was turned
over to Robert Erskine, a young Scottish engineer. He was
left to carry on the work as best he could, for the financial
condition of the company was very unstable. There is a
tradition that the investors who were closest to King
George III persuaded him to sign the tax on tea to make
up to them for their losses. Thus Ringwood, which was
to play an important part in the Revolution, may have
been an indirect cause of the war.
When the Revolution broke out Erskine at once sided
with the colonists and sold his products to the patriots.
Because he was one of the few engineers in the country,
Washington appointed him Geographer and Surveyor
General to the Revolutionary Armies. Erskine made most
of the military maps, including those for the Jersey cam-
paigns. In the New York Historical Society there are 114
of the 129 maps in Erskine's own handwriting j several
are in the possession of J. P. Morgan j the remainder are
in Washington. These maps are models of accuracy and
execution.
The master of Ringwood and his forges were so im-
portant to the Colonial cause that extreme precautions
were taken to protect them. The names were not men-
tioned in military dispatches, lest the messages fall into
the hands of British spies.
Ringwood's position on the main road halfway between
West Point and Morristown made it a convenient place
RINGWOOD MANOR STATE PARK 21
for conferences between Washington and his generals. It
is said that many of Washington's letters dated from
"headquarters" were written in this secluded valley.
The road to Ringwood was carefully guarded, and a
battery was planted on the mountain at Suffern. Erskine
organized and drilled a company of men ready to march
against any attack. Several times the English troops got
as far as Mahwah, just over the mountains. Once a raid-
ing party reached Ringwood and set fire to the house.
Mrs. Erskine escaped in her nightgown, her watch safely
hidden in her slipper. Fortunately the raiders had found
their way first to the wine cellar. While they dallied there,
American troops arrived, and the invaders were driven
off.
Erskine administered the industry so efficiently that he
was called the "Lord of Ringwood." He built a dam at
Tuxedo and dug a ditch to carry the waters of Lake
Tuxedo to increase the water power. He also built a dam
at Greenwood Lake. Day and night the forges were turn-
ing out ammunition for the patriots.
There are a number of entries in Washington's expense
accounts, such as items for washing and for shoeing of
horses, that refer to stops at Ringwood. Washington was
at Ringwood when he sent orders for the suppression of
the Pompton mutiny. General Howe's report of this up-
rising was written in the house. When the war ended
there was a great victory dinner at the Manor, attended
by Washington and guests from as far as New York.
Impressed by the beauty of the country, Washington is
said to have suggested that Ringwood would be ideal for
a great recreation ground. He foresaw that New York
would become the largest city in the country, if not in the
world. Thirty-five miles away, New York was then a two
22 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
days' journey; the time required now is less than two
hours.
On that tragic day, October 2, 1780, on which the
young Major Andre was executed at Tappan, Robert
Erskine died as a result of exposure while on a surveying
expedition. Though some of Washington's staff were
present, the general did not witness the execution of the
young English spy. The shutters of headquarters at Tap-
pan were closed, and it is possible that the saddened
Commander in Chief was traveling through the northern
hills to the home of his devoted friend.
In 1782 Washington returned to Ringwood and planted
an elm beside the brick crypt in which Erskine was buried.
The grave may be seen today. Beside it is that of Erskine's
secretary, Robert Monteith.
After Erskine's death his widow and her second hus-
band, Robert Lettis Hooper, an army officer, managed the
property for three years. In 1783 all the iron was offered
for sale, and the place was closed.
It was not until 1807 tnat tne Ringwood mines and
forges were again active. The property was purchased by
Martin Ryerson, who ran the industry successfully for 30
years. Under his three sons who followed him the business
dwindled, due partly to the opening of the Pennsylvania
fields and to the improvement in methods of iron manu-
facture.
During the management of the elder Ryerson, Ring-
wood forges furnished munitions for the War of 1812.
Standing on the lawn in front of the house today is one
of the main deck guns of the frigate Constitution, forged
here. A grove of trees flanking the terrace in front of the
house was planted by Mrs. Ryerson to commemorate the
Peace of Ghent that ended the conflict.
REVOLUTIONARY RELICS AT RINGWOOD MANOR
By 1853 the fortunes of Ringwood were at a low ebb.
Peter Cooper, the great industrialist and philanthropist,
loaned the Ryersons money to build up the tottering struc-
ture; but in the end he was forced to purchase it. The
management of the iron properties was turned over to
Abram S. Hewitt, who in partnership with Peter Cooper's
son, Edward, owned the Trenton Iron Company. Ring-
wood promised a valuable source of supply for the firm
of Cooper and Hewitt, which became one of the most
important concerns in the iron-mining industry. After
Abram Hewitt married his partner's sister Ringwood was
chosen as their summer home.
As the mines brought wealth to the Hewitt family, the
house and gardens were enlarged and embellished. There
is no trace in the present mansion of the simple Colonial
lines of Robert Erskine's house, partly destroyed by the
British raiding party. Each owner has altered it according
to his tastes and needs. Finally the whole has been covered
with stucco.
24 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
The gardens have been laid out with walks, rose arbors,
terraces and ponds j adorned with statues, ornamental
gates, Chinese vases, Italian marbles and French foun-
tains -y and sprinkled with relics of Colonial and early
American history. In the garden there are columns from
the old New York Life Insurance Building. In the tower
of the house hangs the bell from the old furnace which
summoned the workmen in times of danger. The windows
of the glass piazza were formerly part of the Cooper
Union Art School in New York City.
Museums, expositions and private collectors have drawn
on the storehouse of treasures preserved by the proprietors
of Ringwood. At the Centennial Exposition in Philadel-
phia in 1876 there was shown a complete Revolutionary
kitchen, with utensils, spit crane and spiders, all fur-
nished by Mr. Hewitt. These were never returned.
The stables are unusually elaborate, with paneled
cypress walls. When Henry Ford founded his American
Village at Dearborn, Michigan, Ringwood supplied him
with five carloads of relics, including carriages and sleighs
dating from 1757, many of which were made to order by
Brewster. These old vehicles had been standing unused in
the stables.
The mines finally closed in 1931, and will probably not
be reopened. Although the nearby hills are still rich in
iron ore, it is no longer profitable to extract it. Upwards
of 500 men, many of them descendants of those who
came here in the early days of the industry, were thrown
out of work when the mines were shut down. Many of
these are Jackson Whites, a mountain folk who have lived
in the Ramapo Mountains since the Revolutionary War.
They have depended for subsistence on the mines, and still
speak of the "Company" with awe, while "The Family"
RINGWOOD MANOR STATE PARK 25
means only the Hewitts. In the early years, before Peter
Cooper's time, money was practically unknown to the
workmen. All of their trading was done at the company
store still in existence where they were credited with
supplies in exchange for their services.
Ringwood Manor State Park is under the jurisdiction
of the Department of Conservation and Development.
Here, within easy distance of the metropolitan area, are
woodlands almost completely unspoiled, and relics that
recall a great period in the Nation's development.
OLD OXFORD FURNACE
New Jersey has fallen heir to Oxford Furnace. Once it
was a thriving iron smelter, pouring forth smoke and
gushing streams of white hot molten iron to be made
into horseshoes, nails and stoves for the colonists and
cannon balls to fight the Indians, French and British.
The ruins of the old furnace are on the slope of Scott's
Mountain, in the village of Oxford, about a block from
State Highway 30. It was built in 1742 by Jonathan Robe-
son, in what was then the wilds of Morris (now Warren)
County, and for 140 years it served New Jersey well.
Oxford Furnace was placed to take advantage of a vein
of ore containing 60% of iron. Some of the shafts, at the
outset, were sunk close to the furnace, but later consider-
able ore was taken from the Kisbaugh Mine, situated sev-
eral miles north near Great Meadows and the Pequest
River.
There were other mines three-quarters of a mile south.
Among these was Car Wheel Mine, named for an industry
established in 1840 when railroads were being built. Its
founders were the Scranton brothers, George and Selden,
for whom the city of Scranton, Pennsylvania, was named.
They found the Oxford pig iron well adapted to their
needs and operated the furnace many years.
Oxford ore was recommended as the best for making
steel, since it also contained carbon. Britain, however, did
not encourage the more finished forms of industry here,
and the Governor reported only one steel plant in the
26
OXFORD FURNACE AS IT LOOKS TODAY. AT THE EXTREME
LEFT CAN BE SEEN THE REMAINS OF THE OLD FURNACE.
THE BUILDING IN THE CENTER WAS THE STAMPING MILL,
AND THE CHURCH AT THE EXTREME RIGHT WAS ONCE
THE GRISTMILL
Province in 1768. The smelting of crude pig iron, which
could be taken to England for making into hardware, was
not forbidden, however.
Iron is rarely found in the earth in a pure state. It is
scattered in veins and fragments throughout rocks. The
method of extracting the iron from the rock has not
changed since the early days of the Oxford Furnace.
Modern machinery, however, with large furnaces and
electric power, has made it possible to extract or smelt
hundreds of tons of pure iron a day, while in the early
days two or three tons were considered good.
Smelting iron consists merely in applying intense heat
to the ore. This melts both the iron and the rock. The
iron, being heavier, runs to the bottom, while the liquid
rock floats to the top. The molten iron is drawn off
2 8 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
through holes in the bottom of the furnace, while the
rock and other impurities are carried off through another
vent. This waste matter is called slag.
Some of the cannon balls made at Oxford for the
French and Indian Wars, 1754-1763, have been found
among the cinder heaps. Another product of this period
was chimney firebacks. These were cast in molds in several
patterns. One bears the British coat of arms with the lion
and the unicorn and the date 1746. Another shows a
Colonial couple preparing to dance. Some of these fire-
backs have been found in old houses in Northern New
Jersey. Most of Oxford's iron, however, was in the shape
of "pigs" or rough cast blocks that were pounded into
other forms at New Jersey forges.
The furnace also shipped its pigs to Philadelphia, where
some of them became ballast for ships. The iron was car-
ried in oxcarts about four miles to the Delaware River
below Belvidere. Here at Foul Rift the iron was placed
aboard Durham boats for the two-day voyage to Phila-
delphia.
The Durham boat, invented by Robert Durham, was
designed to carry goods through the Delaware River
rapids. Flat bottomed with sharp ends, some of them were
66 feet long, 6 feet wide and 3 feet deep, capable of
carrying 15 tons. The first one was built in 1740, and so
many others followed that at one time there were several
hundred on the river, employing over 2,000 men. A crew
of six was required to propel and steer them by oars or
poles, though they used sails at times.
Throughout the Revolution Oxford was safely shel-
tered by Washington's line of defense along the Wat-
chung Ridge, 30 miles to the southeast, and continued to
supply the Continental Army with cannon balls.
OLD OXFORD FURNACE 2Q
Production at the Oxford Furnace, which had risen to
three tons of pig iron a day, declined about 1807. Two
years later it was bought by Morris Robeson, grandson
of Jonathan Robeson. The sides of Scott's Mountain and
other hills around the works became bare of trees. Its
4,000 acres of woodland were exhausted. Soon the iron-
master had to close the furnace for lack of fuel, "go out
of blast," as the workers sadly said. For 20 years it was
idle or produced only chimney backs and stoves. Many of
the forges that had used its pig iron fell into ruins.
Building of canals brought about a change for the better
in New Jersey industry, including iron. When the Morris
Canal was opened in 1831 and the Pennsylvania canal
system was completed, they brought the new fuel, Penn-
sylvania coal, to New Jersey. Oxford then sprang into
new life. About this time William Henry, manager of the
works, invented the "hot blast." This was a method of
heating the air before it was forced through the fire. Aided
by larger bellows, this increased production to four tons
and more a day. It was necessary to enlarge the furnace,
and soon the output reached 10 tons a day. The pig iron
was hauled to the Morris Canal a few miles distant and
thence aboard boats to the Delaware, to Philadelphia by
the Pennsylvania Canal, and to many towns in New
Jersey.
Another peak of prosperity came to Oxford in the Civil
War, when iron was in great demand. The Scranton
brothers rebuilt the works to a capacity of 12,000 tons a
year. They also erected a foundry, a rolling mill and a
nail factory that turned out 240,000 kegs a year.
The activity of the Civil War period was short lived.
Soon afterward the iron fields of Western Pennsylvania
and Indiana began production. New Jersey operators could
3O STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
not compete with these new fields that had the advantage
of a nearby fuel supply from the soft-coal mines. Oxford
was "blown out" for the last time in 1882. Since then the
crumbling stones and bricks have served only as a
memento.
But the historic ruins are not the only reminders of a
prosperous industry. Behind the furnace stands a long
stone barn that housed the mules that once strained to pull
the little ore trucks up the ramp to the stamping mill.
Behind the barn is a pile of slag; mountain would perhaps
be a better word, for the pile towers more than 50 feet
above the houses at its base and stretches for nearly a
mile to the north. Slag was considered a waste product
once, but now it is used for road construction. So immense
is this slag deposit that although thousands of truckloads
have been carted away, there is hardly a visible effect on
the pile.
Of the furnace itself, only 25 feet remain of what was
once a 38-foot, pyramid-shaped stack. It stands close to
the foot of the hill, largely concealed by the engine house
and boilerhouse, later additions. The lower half of the
engine house was originally the stamping mill, where the
ore was crushed before being smelted. It stands beside a
raceway that carried water from Furnace Creek to turn
the water wheel that ran the stamping mill as well as the
big leather bellows that blew air into the furnace.
High on a hill overlooking the furnace is the three-
story house that was built in 1754 by the Shippen brothers,
Joseph and William, who then owned the controlling in-
terest in the furnace. Joseph was known as "Gentleman
Joe," because of the many distinguished guests from New
York and Philadelphia whom he entertained in the little
village. Though the house has been remodeled from time
OLD OXFORD FURNACE 31
to time, the original walls of native stone remain intact.
Its broad front is partly hidden by glass-enclosed porches.
This house went with the furnace, and the many owners
and lessees used it in turn.
Near the house is the three-story gristmill that ground
flour for the workers and feed for the animals that hauled
ore and fuel. For the past 25 years the gristmill has been
used as a Methodist Church. At the peak, where once
hung a pulley to hoist grain, now hangs the church bell,
without cover, like those of the Spanish missions of Cali-
fornia.
Some of the older residents of the neighborhood still
tell stories of the days when Oxford was a booming min-
ing town. One of these, a lurid Hallowe'en story, relates
the visit about 60 years ago of the ghost of Jerry Mack.
Jerry had been found dead at the furnace one February
day. Although the cause of his death was a mystery,
people soon ceased wondering about it. Jerry Mack was
forgotten. But Jerry had not forgotten his former asso-
ciates. One windy night just before Hallowe'en three
workers at the furnace heard a voice above the wind call-
ing over and over, "doomed to wander, doomed to wan-
der." There was a rustling at the stack house door, and as
the workmen looked up, there stood Jerry's ghost carrying
an umbrella and dressed in a long-tailed coat. Without
waiting for a second look, all three dived through the
window and, without stopping, fled for their homes three
miles away. Jerry then wandered about and scared the
wits out of three more workmen. The next morning the
whole town was terror stricken. There was an investiga-
tion, but nothing could shake the six men from their
story. They had seen Jerry Mack; and what was more, not
one of them would ever set foot near the furnace again.
32 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
In fact, they all left town a few days later, taking their
families and household goods with them.
The Warren Pipe and Foundry Co. of Belvidere, last
owner of Oxford Furnace, decided that the historic value
of the furnace should be perpetuated. The company has
given the ruins and some land to the State, which plans to
restore and preserve it for the benefit of future Americans.
The restoration will be under the direction of the New
Jersey Historic Sites Commission.
ROCK AWAY RIVER: A GATEWAY TO
THE IRON REGION
Although it is one of New Jersey's smaller rivers, the
Rockaway was once important as the gateway to the vast
magnetic iron deposits of Morris County. Its fingerlike
branches penetrate the northern hills beyond the Wat-
chung ridges, where hundreds of shafts were sunk when
New Jersey provided most of the iron for America. Most
of these mines were abandoned as the industry shifted to
richer deposits in other States.
Forges and furnaces set up in this region by the early
colonists produced iron household utensils and ammuni-
tion for the Revolutionary Army. These Colonial indus-
tries are only memories now. But the brooks and springs
that feed the Rockaway as it twists among the hills, drain-
ing an area of about 200 square miles, are still tinged with
iron from the hidden veins in the rocky ridges.
Tumbling down its mountain stairway, the stream falls
more than 1,000 feet to its mouth, pausing long enough
to form a number of lakes on the way. The largest of
these is the Jersey City Reservoir, covering 120 acres
south of Boonton. Throughout the region are numerous
natural lakes fed or drained by the Rockaway branches.
Other lakes have been created by damming the streams
for water power.
The North American Glacier dug out the beds of some
of the lakes about 100,000 years ago. Others were created
as the glacier pushed masses of gravel and boulders into
33
THE ROCKAWAY FALLS AT BOONTON
water courses. Behind these barriers the water piled up
until it overflowed. In recent years the lakes, the river
and the brooks have created a vacation land for thousands
from cities and towns. Commercially, the river is still a
source of power for modern mills at a few points along
its banks.
Green Pond Mountain separates the East Branch from
the West Branch of the river until they join a short dis-
tance above Wharton. The West Branch rises 1,200 feet
above sea level in tiny Lake Madonna on Sparta Moun-
tain, southwest of Oak Ridge Reservoir and remote from
any large town. Lake Madonna is 40 miles from the
mouth of the river.
Falling steadily through rocky country, draining ten
lakes, the river emerges from Lake Swannanoa in the
northwest corner of Morris County and flows southward
through Longwood Valley. Almost all of the lakes in
this region served early industry.
Rockaway seems to be the white man's shortening of
ROCKAWAY RIVER 35
the Indian name of the river, roga weighwero, which
means "running out of a deep gorge." It is an especially
fitting title for the East Branch. This stream flows from
Green Pond, a lake two and one-half miles long at the
foot of the mountain, where for more than a mile a
granite cliff rises 1 50 feet over the lake. Leaving the lake,
the brook races through a boulder-strewn ravine between
steep rock walls and drops 300 feet in less than four miles
in a series of cataracts and waterfalls. Halfway between
Green Pond and Lake Denmark the water drops sheerly
from the summit of Green Pond Mountain to the brook
almost 100 feet below. An old road paralleling the stream
is passable only on foot or horseback. Swollen by rain or
melting snows in spring, the stream overflows its banks
and runs over the road.
This region today contributes far more to the war
strength of America than it did during the Revolution.
At forest-lined Lake Denmark the Navy has a large
ammunition storehouse, and down the stream a mile and
one-half, at Picatinny Arsenal on Lake Picatinny, the
Army makes ammunition for military forces in the New
York area. These munitions depots are on the sites of
Colonial iron centers.
In Rockaway Borough, where a dam furnishes water
power for the old Rockaway gristmill, the river turns
sharply north for about eight miles to the Powerville
Dam. This stretch of quiet water, shaded by trees whose
branches often meet overhead, is popular with canoeists
and fishermen. The New Jersey Fish and Game Commis-
sion stocks the stream with thousands of trout each year.
South of the river around Denville are Arrowhead
Lake, Rainbow Lake, Indian Lake and Lake Estline, with
log cabins and summer bungalows on their shores. From
36 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
the north. Deer Pond, Lake Valhalla, Surprise Lake,
Ideal Lake, Fayson Lake and Dixon's Pond feed the
Rockaway. All are popular with summer visitors. East of
the river between Denville and Boonton is a group of
five lakes around which has developed the modern com-
muters' town of Mountain Lakes.
From Powerville the river continues southeastward over
a steep rocky course and plunges down 22-foot Boonton
Falls into a rugged gorge, one of the outstanding scenic
features of Morris County. The bridge into Boonton at
the foot of the gorge is lined with fishermen during the
season. Southeast of the town the river flows into Boonton
Reservoir, which covers the site of old Boonetown, an
important iron town before 1834.
As it emerges from the northeast corner of the reservoir,
the river bends northward for a short stretch and then
turns abruptly southeast through a stretch of flat meadow-
land to join Whippany River between Pine Brook and
Hanover Neck.
For many years authorities have considered building a
two-mile dam at this point to form a lake which would
cover 25 square miles of now worthless meadow, drained
by the Whippany and Rockaway Rivers. This project
would destroy more than 5,000 acres of mosquito-breed-
ing ground and prevent floods in the Passaic Valley.
Historians say that the first iron produced in New
Jersey (other than bog iron from the southern swamps)
was probably forged in the Rockaway region. From the
Indians the colonists learned of the prized "black stone"
from which the red men had made sturdy hatchets. Scouts
from the Newark colony first found the source of this
iron ore near Succasunna in Morris County. The discovery
was almost equal to finding money, because every piece of
ROCKAWAY RIVER 37
land bought from the Indians was paid for partly in iron
tools, hatchets, knives and hoes. These had to be imported
from England at high prices.
As early as 1685 or 1700 a party of Newark and Eliza-
beth pioneers, skilled ironworkers among them, set out
for the Passaic River frontier. On the west side of the
Passaic near the mouth of the Rockaway, they cleared a
tract extending to the Whippany River. Close to the
present village of Whippany they built a forge known for
many years as Old Forges. These men followed the
streams up into the hills to find the "black stone," which
was carried by pack horses back to the forge.
Today bats live in the scores of old mine shafts on the
range of hills spreading southwest from Wharton and the
Rockaway River. One of these, the Dickerson Mine, was
bought by Mahlon Dickerson, Governor of New Jersey.
Its ore contained 82% of iron.
The prospectors covered the whole basin of the river
and its branches and reached beyond to Ringwood and
Charlotteburg. As the veins of ore were discovered, more
and more forges and furnaces were built. Despite the
opposition of English ironmasters who tried to crush the
infant enterprise, the colonists developed an industry that
enabled them to achieve independence of Europe. At one
time northern New Jersey had 80 forges and furnaces.
Denmark, where the United States Naval Ammunition
Depot is situated, is the site of the Burnt Meadow Forge,
established in 1750. It was owned by Col. Jacob Ford,
commander of the militia who kept the enemy away from
the numerous forges scattered through the Morris County
hills, all of which were furnishing munitions to the Revo-
lutionary Army.
Most productive of the Morris County mines was the
STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
ROCKAWAY RIVER
BASIN
/ COMPILED BY
/ FEDERAL WRITERS* PROJECT, W.RA.
ROCKAWAY RIVER 39
Hibernia group, which continued to operate long after
the Civil War. Close to the village of Hibernia, about five
miles north of Rockaway Borough, these mines and the
Hibernia Furnace, built 1763, were bought during the
Revolution by William Alexander, one of Washington's
generals, who was called Lord Stirling. He soon had
skilled men at work molding small cannon for the Con-
tinental Army. In the museum at Washington's Head-
quarters in Morristown is an iron pig bearing the mark
"Hibernia" on one side.
When the Morris Canal was opened in 1831, Hibernia's
iron was taken on oxcarts to Dover, and there loaded on
canal boats. Dover soon became an important center of
trade on the canal. It had two forges making chain cables
for clipper ships j three rolling mills, one built in 1792,
and a foundry where sugar and fish kettles, ten-plate
stoves, salt pans and other useful things were made of
cast iron. Dover is still working iron at its rolling mill,
run by the Rockaway River's power.
The folk for miles around drove into Dover for shop-
ping during the canal era, and the older boys and girls
attended its academy, which was also the church on Sun-
day. Some of these boys and girls lived long enough to
hear the song written about 30 years ago:
Put on your old gray bonnet
With the blue ribbons on it;
While I hitch old Dobbin to the shay.
And through the fields of clover
We'll drive up to Dover
On our golden wedding day.
COLONIAL HOUSES OF NEW JERSEY
It is over 300 years since the first Dutch settlers came
from New Amsterdam to northern New Jersey to trade
with the Indians. Many of the houses built since 1664,
when they began to establish permanent homes, are still
standing, reminders of the thrifty, comfort-loving farmers
who brought European civilization to the New Jersey
wilderness. The ownership of slaves supplied ample
labor to build the houses of local sandstone and a mortar
made of river mud mixed with straw or hogs' hair. The
walls, about i l /2 feet thick, helped to keep the interior
warm in winter and cool in summer.
The great eaves that project above the front door are
the most noticeable characteristic of these North Jersey
Dutch houses, which were almost invariably built to face
south. Ingeniously designed for comfort, the eaves served
as an awning in the summer, and yet permitted the winter
sun, hanging low in the south, to shine in the front win-
dows and door.
The early houses had just two rooms and an attic
reached by a ladder. To save space there was no hall
between the rooms, and, for privacy, there was no con-
necting door, but separate front entrances. Beside each
door was one great window, and sometimes a second
smaller window was placed in the rear wall. So few win-
dows were used because glass was expensive and not effec-
tive as an insulator.
Usually the single fireplace, built in the west wall of
40
IJHHRHHHHHi
THE OLD DEMAREST HOUSE AT RIVER EDGE
the house, was wide enough to take big logs and high
enough for the large cranes that held the heavy iron
kettles in which Dutch housewives prepared the family
meals. There was always a cellar, reached by outside steps
beside the front doors. Beams for the rafters and the
joints under the wide plank floors were roughly squared
and adzed from trees growing on the land.
Typical of this style is the tiny old David Demarest
house in River Edge, built about 1680. The roof is pitched
from the ridge and curves out to cover the eaves over-
hanging the twin doors and two large south windows.
Though this type of pitched roof was used occasionally,
the Dutch generally preferred the gambrel roof, which
slopes gently from the ridge, then breaks steeply down to
the eaves. The flatter portion provided more space in the
attic without increasing the size of the building and was
42 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
often used on larger houses with a central hall and stair-
way. The attic could then be utilized for comfortable
bedrooms.
One of the best examples of the latter form, and much
larger than the Demarest house, is the Terhune house in
Hackensack, built about 1708. The gambrel roof ends in
long eaves extending over a south porch, built many years
later. The unusual width of the house made the roof very
high, providing not only a second floor but also a con-
siderable attic above. The outside stonework, rougher and
cruder than in the later houses, has been whitewashed,
giving the old stone an aged, crusty texture beneath the
ivy vines. The door in the central hall halfway up the
steep, narrow stairway to the attic was kept closed during
the winter, a customary arrangement in houses of this
type.
As families grew, an addition much larger than the
original house was sometimes built, and the old house
became the kitchen wing. Occasionally a second small wing
was added to the opposite end of the new addition to form
a central house with balanced side wings. The Hopper
house on Polifly Road in Hackensack grew this way. The
central portion, built in 1808, is much newer than the
kitchen wing.
Toward the end of the i8th century the eaves were
extended still further, and small columns were placed
beneath them to form a porch. This was sometimes done
on both front and rear.
The Dutch houses built after 1800 show the influence
of settlers from New England, who introduced English
Georgian details which appear in the enframements of
doorways, delicate fanlights, transoms and side lights and
molded cornices.
COLONIAL HOUSES OF NEW JERSEY 43
Some of the houses were built of wood instead of stone
and the frame walls filled with brick like the Vreeland
house in Leonia, the finest example of the fully developed
Dutch Colonial style in New Jersey. The frame part was
built about 1836 as an addition to the small stone wing to
the east, which was kept for service quarters. The front
and rear porches are purely Dutch, but the beautiful
leaded glass fanlight and narrow side lights framing the
doorway, the gables adorned with oval windows and the
carving of the woodwork around the doors and windows
show the strong English influence.
The charm of the Dutch Colonial lies in its impression
of coziness, comfort and gentility. The soft curve in the
roof line where it meets the walls and the deep shadow
of the overhanging eaves, low over the first floor win-
dows, seem to reflect something of the personal home life
of the interior. The style has been much copied in modern
house design, but it is not often that the simple grace of
the old houses is successfully reproduced.
There is a marked difference between the styles of the
northern and southern New Jersey Colonial houses. The
Swedes settled in this section before the middle of the
1 7th century, but were soon mastered by the Dutch. There
are no purely Swedish houses standing today, but the
Swedes who remained in the section exerted a marked
influence on the architecture introduced by their Dutch
conquerors.
Taking advantage of the clay and sand soil of southern
New Jersey, the pioneers built their homes of brick made
from the native clay. The earliest houses were small one-
story buildings with gambrel roofs, such as the office of
Thomas Revel, in Burlington, built in 1685. The high,
steep roofs of the South Jersey houses gave so much extra
HANCOCK HOUSE, HANCOCK'S BRIDGE, SALEM COUNTY
space in the attic that it became a real second floor. For
ventilation and light the Dutch often placed two dormer
windows at the front. Only a few of these very old little
houses remain as they were; to most of them the Swedes
added a full second floor where the attic used to be. In
many cases the shape of the original gambrel roof line can
be traced in the brickwork of the gables.
The Dutch used either white or a dull blue-gray brick
to decorate the exterior, and almost always they placed
their initials and the date of building in the gables. The
Swedes imitated the use of patterns, at first with simple
checkerboard or diamond designs, but later they tried
very intricate patterns, such as the one on the Dickinson
house at Alloway.
In South Jersey the great overhangs built by the Bergen
County Dutch were replaced by "pent eaves," small pro-
COLONIAL HOUSES OF NEW JERSEY 45
jections of roof between the first and second stories to
protect the windows and doorway from rain and sno*w.
Sometimes the eaves were built along the sides of the
house as well as the front. It is not known where pent
eaves originated, but they were common in parts of Eu-
rope and in England at the time.
The Hancock house at Hancock's Bridge, site of a mas-
sacre of American soldiers during the Revolution, has two
patterns, the checkerboard and zigzag, worked into its
walls with glazed brick. Now owned by the State and
preserved as a Colonial museum, the two-story house is
one of the best examples of South Jersey Colonial archi-
tecture.
MORRISTOWN NATIONAL HISTORICAL
PARK
On February 27, 1933, when only four days remained
before the expiration of the Seventy-second Congress,
Representative Percy H. Stewart of Plainfield, New Jer-
sey, rose to make a special request of the House of Repre-
sentatives. He asked to have the rules of the House
suspended so that his colleagues might discuss his bill for
the establishment of a national historical park at Morris-
town.
Speaker John Nance Garner granted the permission,
and the clerk then read the bill that had been passed by
the Senate two and a half weeks earlier. When the reading
had been completed, Mr. Stewart rose to speak for the
measure:
Mr. Speaker, this bill provides for the creation of
a national historical park by setting aside certain areas
at and in the vicinity of Morristown, N. J. Mr. Lloyd
W. Smith proposes to donate to the Federal Govern-
ment approximately 1,000 acres of land, and the city
of Morristown has by a referendum of citizens, voted
to turn over about 300 acres of land to the Federal
Government. These two gifts comprise the camp
ground occupied by the Revolutionary Army during
the winter of 1779 and 1780, and the Revolutionary
cemetery. In addition, the Washington Association
of New Jersey proposes to donate the famous Ford
46
WASHINGTON'S HEADQUARTERS, MORRISTOWN
House, used by General Washington and his staff as
headquarters during the time the army was in camp
at Morristown. This donation is to include also the
many priceless treasures which have been collected by
the Washington Association. . . .
The New Jersey Congressman continued for about five
or six of the ten minutes allotted to him, describing the
historical significance of the proposed park and dwelling
on New Jersey's importance in the Revolutionary War.
Amidst applause from the Congressmen he closed with
the hope that there would "not be a single vote in opposi-
tion to accepting this splendid patriotic gift."
Representatives were immediately on their feet with
questions. Mr. Stewart assured Representative Blanton of
Texas that thousands had already visited the Ford House
48 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
and informed Mr. Hill of Alabama that no battles had
been fought on the site of the park. Representative Wat-
son of Pennsylvania came to the support of the Congress-
man from his neighboring State. "Morristown is so closely
allied with Washington . . ." he said, "that we should
not turn down the gentleman's proposition."
"I thank the gentleman," said Mr. Stewart.
Representative Carl Michener of Michigan leaped into
the discussion with a flat statement that he intended to
oppose the bill because he felt the park would be too
costly to the Federal Government. To this Representative
Cochran of Missouri replied, "As a matter of fact this is
about the first bill that has been introduced which gives
the government something for nothing. The government
is receiving property worth $1,000,000 for only $7,500 a
year for maintenance."
Mr. Michener's opposition grew more pointed. He
insisted that if the house passed the Morristown bill it
should also accept a proposition to take over the Ever-
glades in Florida, which "some people call the alligator
park bill." Another New Jersey Congressman, Charles A.
Eaton, quickly inquired:
Do I understand the gist of the argument of the
gentleman from Michigan is that the sacred ground
occupied by Washington and the fathers of this Re-
public is on a level with alligators and snakes of the
Everglades?
After a vigorous protest that he did not mean to make
such a comparison, Mr. Michener retired from the floor
and left Representative Blanton to carry on. Mr. Blanton
agreed that the park might prove a huge financial burden
to the Government and added that Morristown did not
MORRISTOWN NATIONAL HISTORICAL PARK 49
compare with Mount Vernon as a shrine "of the great
Father of our country."
Representative Eaton then returned to the conflict to
insist that Morristown did rank as a shrine with Mount
Vernon, pointing out that it had been called "The Valley
Forge of New Jersey." It ought to be preserved," he
argued, "as a sacred shrine by and for our people to the
end of time."
Mr. Eaton's plea terminated the debate. The question
was put to the House by Speaker Garner, and the bill was
quickly passed with a better than 2-1 majority. On March
2, just one day before his administration ended, President
Herbert Hoover signed the bill which created the Na-
tion's first national historical park.
Four months later, on July 4, 10,000 people gathered
in the natural amphitheater on the grounds of Washing-
ton's Morristown headquarters for the formal dedication
of the park. In a graceful message President Franklin D.
Roosevelt recognized Morristown's proud claims by re-
ferring to the city as "in fact, if not in name, the capital
of the future republic" and by characterizing the Ford
House as "our first White House." As the Federal Gov-
ernment's official representative, Secretary of the Interior
Harold L. Ickes received the deeds to the historic lands
from the mayor of Morristown and made the principal
address of the ceremony.
After expressing his pleasure to be in the hills of Mor-
ristown, "at once so beautiful and so historic," the Secre-
tary praised Washington's genius "in selecting these hills
as his military headquarters, difficult of access as they were
to the foe, yet for the Revolutionary commander within
easy striking distance of two vital cities, New York and
Philadelphia." In conclusion, he observed that this same
5O STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
strategic location would make Morristown National His-
torical Park a patriotic shrine easily accessible to a sixth of
the Nation's population.
At the time of the dedication of the Morristown Park,
there were 21 other national parks. Of these only a few
had historic associations comparable to those of Morris-
town, and none approached it in size. The Morristown
National Historical Park is really three historical parks in
one. Each unit has its full share of Revolutionary signifi-
cance: the Ford Mansion as Washington's headquarters j
Fort Nonsense as the refuge of the Continental soldiers
guarding military stores j and Jockey Hollow three miles
southwest as the site of the encampment of more than
1 2,000 soldiers of the Continental Army. Taken together,
the three divisions tell the story of one of New Jersey's
outstanding contributions to the success of the colonies in
their struggle for independence.
Ever since Washington's occupancy of the Ford House
in the desperate winter of 1779-80, the lovely Colonial
mansion has been the historical heart of Morristown. Its
setting on an expanse of sloping lawn on which stand
towering trees has doubtless changed little from the day
when the house was built in 1774 by Colonel Jacob Ford,
a wealthy iron and powder manufacturer. It was then the
most pretentious residence in Morristown, a village of
300 people.
For generations the beautiful door of the Ford House
has been thrown open to those who would come close to
the cares and responsibilities, the joys and triumphs ex-
perienced by Washington and his staff. Furnishings and
decorations have been acquired to suggest the atmosphere
of the Revolutionary period. Delicate Colonial furniture
makes the spacious central hall appear much as it did
MORRISTOWN NATIONAL HISTORICAL PARK 51
when Martha Washington ordered it cleared for one of
the many balls she gave to keep up the morale of the
Continental Army.
The dignity with which the house bears its age of
eight score and four befits the statement that "under its
roof have gathered more characters known to the military
history of our Revolution than under any one roof in
America." Visitors from abroad, like Kosciusko and
Pulaski from Poland, Baron von Steuben from Prussia,
the Chevalier de la Luzerne from France and Don Juan
de Miralles from Spain, brought hope of foreign aid that
occasioned rejoicing and celebration in the generous Vir-
ginia way of the Washingtons. No event was more jubi-
lantly observed than Lafayette's arrival in 1780 with word
that the King of France was sending a fleet of ships and
6,OOO troops to the aid of the colonies.
Washington's fellow American generals, Greene, Wayne
and Light Horse Harry Lee, however, brought mostly
discouraging news of the progress of the war. Equally
depressing were the constant accounts of bickerings with
the Congress and State Legislatures over support of the
army. Perhaps the bitterest experience for Washington at
Morristown was the report of Benedict Arnold's treason
at West Point. It was the climax of a tragedy in which an
important scene had been played at the New Jersey head-
quarters.
At the Dickerson Tavern on the village green Arnold
had been tried early in 1780 on charges of abuse of power
brought by Pennsylvania officials. The military court did
not pronounce him guilty, but recommended a reprimand
from the Commander in Chief. Washington reluctantly
complied, but tried to soften Arnold's mortification by
52 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
offering him command of West Point. Arnold's treachery
was the general's thanks.
The gay temperament of two of the youngest members
on Washington's staff, Alexander Hamilton and Lafay-
ette, often helped to relieve the heavy gloom. The French
nobleman's witty tongue and zestful spirit could always
be counted on to enliven an evening, and Hamilton's suc-
cessful courtship of General Philip Schuyler's daughter,
Betsy, brought a youthful buoyancy to the atmosphere.
Both Hamilton and Lafayette lived for a time in the
Ford House with Washington and his family and others.
Despite the size of the mansion, it was taxed beyond its
facilities, and Washington wrote to Greene:
I have been at my present quarters since the ist day
of December and have not a Kitchen to cook a
Dinner, . . . Nor is there a place at this moment
in which a servant can lodge, with the smallest de-
gree of comfort. Eighteen belonging to my family,
and all of Mrs. Ford's are crowded together in her
Kitchen, and scarce one of them able to speak for the
colds they have caught.
Mrs. Ford was one of the few of Washington's hostesses
who refused to accept payment for her hospitality. The
general, however, insisted on plastering the house at his
own expense. When Washington moved in, he instructed
Mrs. Ford to make an inventory of her possessions. At
the time of his departure she reported that her belongings
were intact, save for the absence of a silver tablespoon.
After the war, Washington replaced this with a spoon
from his service at Mount Vernon, inscribed with the
initials "G.W."
MORRISTOWN NATIONAL HISTORICAL PARK 53
Directly behind the Ford House is the Historical Mu-
seum of Morristown, recently built by the Department of
the Interior. Its valuable collection of Washington ma-
terial, nearly all acquired by the Washington Association
of New Jersey, includes a Gilbert Stuart portrait of the
general j a diorama depicting the mutiny of the regiment
of the Pennsylvania Line; a iO4-pound link of the great
iron chain stretched across the Hudson to prevent the
British fleet from reaching West Point ; and some weapons
captured from the British at the Battle of Princeton. It is
intended to place all the historical articles from the Ford
House in this museum and to furnish the house completely
as a typical eighteenth century mansion. Among the ex-
hibits which are still on view in the house itself are the
piano used by Nellie Custis, Washington's adopted daugh-
ter, and the china and silverware with which Washington
and Lafayette were served.
About two miles from the headquarters stands Fort
Nonsense. Originally built in 1777 during Washington's
first winter in Morristown, it gradually crumbled away
and was rebuilt in 1937 by the National Park Service,
aided by the Civilian Conservation Corps. Although the
Watchung Mountains seemed to provide a measure of
protection, the Continental Army was constantly on the
watch for British attacks. The high ridge on which Fort
Nonsense was situated strategically commanded a pass
through the mountains and was probably used as the site
of a beacon to summon the militia in times of danger.
In its natural state the hill was probably adequate for
the purposes of the army. Washington, however, ordered
a fort built there, possibly to afford greater protection to
the town, its valuable stores of munitions and important
iron works. The soldiers contended that the job was de-
54 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
signed only to keep them busy and dubbed the project
"Fort Nonsense."
The original fort was constructed of earth. The hill was
cut in a series of terraces, upon each of which soldiers took
their stand. The fort was rebuilt from a study of military
manuals of the Revolutionary period.
Difficult as conditions were at the Ford House through
the frigid winter of 1779-80, Washington himself would
have been the first to agree that the greatest measure of
suffering was experienced three miles beyond the town,
at Jockey Hollow. In what is now an inviting tract of
forest overgrown with hardwoods and wildflowers, 12,000
American soldiers camped under the most trying circum-
stances. At the headquarters the housekeeper was once
obliged to sell large quantities of salt to provide food for
the general, but of his men at Jockey Hollow Washington
wrote that they sometimes went "five or six days together
without bread" and that at one time they "ate every kind
of horse food but hay."
Winter struck at the encampment before they could
build proper huts, and an epidemic of smallpox carried
off hundreds of men. Portions of the barrack huts remain,
and Jockey Hollow Cemetery holds the graves of about a
hundred men who died here. Across from the cemetery
has been built a military hospital which is an exact repro-
duction of the one used by the Continentals. Up the hill
from the hospital stands the rebuilt hut of the officers of
the Pennsylvania Division. Reconstruction of other au-
thentic huts is planned by the National Park Service,
which administers Morristown National Historical Park.
The most famous event associated with Jockey Hollow
occurred the winter following that which Washington
spent in Morristown. On January i, 1781, 2,000 veteran
Courtesy Wide World Photos
REVOLUTIONARY HOSPITAL, JOCKEY HOLLOW
troops of the Pennsylvania Line mutinied against the
authority of the Continental Congress. Poorly fed and
clothed, unpaid for 12 months, the men were convinced
that their officers had deceived them on the terms of
enlistment. Their patience snapped when they learned that
new recruits were being offered the handsome bounty of
three half-joes ($26.43).
The mutineers seized ammunition and provisions and
appropriated horses from the stables of their commander,
General Anthony Wayne. In a brief skirmish they killed
Captain Adam Bettin, who had attempted to restrain
them. Wayne tried to placate them, but he was warned
that he would be put to death if he fired his pistol. He
was also assured that the men would obey his orders
should the British attack.
56 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
Meanwhile British spies offered the men a considerable
sum to fight for England. The soldiers were as furious at
this reflection on their loyalty to their country as they
had been at their commanding officers. They quickly
turned over the British agents to Wayne, who promptly
executed them.
With two colonels, the general accompanied the men
to Princeton, where he presented Washington with a
written list of their complaints. A council of war was
called by the Commander in Chief, and the mutiny was
settled by discharging many of the men from the service.
The mutineers had intended to go to Philadelphia to con-
front Congress with their demands, but they accepted this
peaceable solution.
Closely associated with events in the Pennsylvania Line
mutiny is the Wick House, which stands farther down the
road running through most of Jockey Hollow. Captain
Henry Wick of the New Jersey militia lived here, but it
was his daughter, Temperance, who made tradition for
the farmhouse. According to the legend, two mutinous
soldiers attempted to commandeer Tempers horse when
they met her on the road. She pretended to submit, and
the soldiers let loose their hold on the horse's bridle.
Instantly, Tempe brought her whip down on the horse's
flanks, and he galloped up the hill. When she reached the
farmhouse, the girl led her horse into the kitchen, through
the parlor and to a bedroom in the northwest corner of
the house. She closed the wooden shutter and spread the
featherbed on the floor so that the horse's stamping would
be muffled. When the soldiers arrived, they searched the
barn and adjoining woods, but fortunately never thought
that the animal might be in the house. According to an-
other version of the story, Tempe rode the horse straight
MORRISTOWN NATIONAL HISTORICAL PARK 57
into the house without stopping to dismount. Regardless
of the authenticity of the Tempe legend, the house itself
retains more of its original appearance than any other
Jockey Hollow building standing during the war. Partial
restoration was made by the Civilian Conservation Corps.
About 175 CCC boys are carrying on the work of re-
construction and improvement of the huts and landmarks
under the supervision of the National Park Service. Other
field work has been accomplished through the Works
Progress Administration and Public Works Administra-
tion. Washington's Headquarters and the Historical
Museum may be visited daily except Sunday from 9 to 5
o'clock. Fort Nonsense and Jockey Hollow are open every
day from 9 o'clock until dark. Free lecture and guide
service may be obtained by making advance arrangements
with the superintendent of the park.
PATERSON, THE "FEDERAL CITY"
Paterson, the city of mills and factories, owes its begin-
nings to the dreams of one of the fathers of the country,
the brilliant first Secretary of the Treasury, Alexander
Hamilton. The realization of the dream was somewhat
delayed, and perhaps has fallen short of the hopes of the
founder j but Paterson has, nevertheless, followed the
pattern laid out for it in the early days of the country's
history.
Though the Revolution had left America politically
independent of Great Britain, leading minds soon realized
that the new country must secure her industrial independ-
ence as well. To stimulate pride in home manufactures,
the newspapers took pains to attract the public's attention
to the fact that when Washington was inaugurated he
was wearing a suit of broadcloth of the finest American
manufacture.
The new world had been looked upon as a producer of
precious metals, pelts and raw materials for the mother
country to turn into manufactured articles. These the
colonists had to buy at advanced prices. They were pre-
vented from making woolen, cotton or linen cloth for
sale, and they were not allowed to build furnaces to con-
vert the native iron into steel.
Alexander Hamilton was greatly impressed with the
Great Falls of the Passaic River in northern New Jersey.
He foresaw it as the site of a great manufacturing center
to supply the needs of the country. Here was the water
58
THE PASSAIC RIVER FALLS
power to turn the mill wheels and a navigable river to
carry the manufactured goods to the market centers.
The Revolution over, in the midst of the thousand and
one details of organization of the Government that occu-
pied him, Hamilton proceeded to put his pet idea into
motion. His plan was to form a large stock company
which would engage in all sorts of manufacturing and
would encourage other enterprises as well. Although he
was convinced that the Great Falls of the Passaic was the
logical site for a manufacturing center, he kept that part
of his plan to himself. In the newspapers of New York
and Pennsylvania, as well as in those of New Jersey, arti-
cles appeared designed to interest moneyed citizens in a
"Federal City" to be placed at some favorable spot accessi-
ble to the cities along the seaboard.
There were a number of influential men who saw at
60 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
once the wisdom of the plan, and gradually the idea
began to take hold of the imagination of the people at
large. It was the first organization of its kind in the
world and, because of its novelty, was received doubtfully
by some and enthusiastically by others. Among the first
to give support to the plan was the new Governor of New
Jersey, William Paterson.
Several meetings were held to consider plans of organ-
ization and location. New Brunswick was one of the sites
suggested. It had the advantage of a location on a broad
river and it was, in addition, the birthplace of Governor
Paterson. Newark was another suggested site. But, in the
end, Hamilton had his way. The Great Falls of the Pas-
saic were called into service to furnish the needed power,
and the smooth-flowing Passaic River, the transportation
essentials of the plan.
Under a charter signed November 22, 1791, the Society
for Establishing Useful Manufactures was organized. The
city was named Paterson, in honor of the Governor of
New Jersey who signed the charter. With the backing of
Hamilton and Paterson to give them assurance, people
from all parts of the country hastened to buy shares in
the new company at $100 each. The list of the first sub-
scribers contains the names of men prominent in the
business and political affairs of the new country. The
State of New Jersey assisted with a subscription of $10,000
and, in addition, authorized a lottery to raise money for
the enterprise. The practice of raising money through
lotteries for public purposes, charities, churches, improve-
ments, etc., which was more or less customary during
Colonial days, had been abused in several instances; and it
was only in special cases that the governing body per-
mitted this method of raising money.
PATTERSON, THE "FEDERAL CITY" 6 1
The organizers of the "S. U. M.," as the company
came to be called, were so certain that the whole country
would benefit by its activities that they introduced into
the charter some startling provisions which have since
become a burden to the City of Paterson. For instance,
the property of the Society was to be exempt from all
taxes for ten years, and, thereafter, from all but State
taxes. Later, when the S. U. M. gave up its manufacturing
activities and leased its land to private organizations, the
city, because of the original charter, was prevented from
collecting taxes on the property.
The Society bought about 700 acres of land above and
below the falls and began digging a raceway. The French
engineer, Pierre L'Enfant, who had been engaged to lay
out the National Capital, was called into service. He
conceived the plan of a magnificent city laid out in splen-
did avenues and reached by a fine highway from Newark.
The newspapers of the day spoke in enthusiastic terms of
the fine prospects of the "National Manufactory," where
they fondly believed would be produced all the cotton,
cassimeres, wallpapers, books, felt and straw hats, shoes,
carriages, pottery, bricks, pots, pans and buttons needed
in the United States. But L'Enfant's plans were more
magnificent than practical, and Peter Colt, treasurer of the
State of Connecticut, was chosen in his place.
A stone mill, four stories high, about 55 by 80 feet,
was erected. There was nothing in the country like it,
with its 768 spindles for spinning cotton. It would be an
insignificant mill now, but it promised great things in
those days.
It is impossible to realize today the difficulties in the
way of this pioneer manufacturing enterprise. Most of the
machinery had to be imported, as well as the workmen to
62 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
set it up and operate it. Moreover, the money to finance
the venture did not come in so quickly as anticipated. Of
the $1,000,000 capital authorized, only about $60,000 was
subscribed. William Duer, the governor of the Society,
whose wealth and business experience had been counted on
to set the new venture on its feet, lost all his money in a
sudden panic in New York and was sent to jail for debt.
Foreign manufacturers flooded the market with goods the
Society had planned to produce. An agent sent abroad with
$50,000 to purchase supplies made off with the money j
this was the final blow.
Alexander Hamilton was too much absorbed with
affairs of government to give as much time as was neces-
sary to the scheme. With his financial genius and energy
he might have been able to carry the plan through suc-
cessfully, but he had to leave the S. U. M. to fend for
itself.
The Society limped along ineffectually until it finally
decided, in 1796, to give up the business of manufacturing.
Private concerns were invited to take up its land holdings,
and the once hopeful Society of Useful Manufactures
became nothing more than a glorified landlord.
Paterson of today is not the "Federal City" of which
Alexander Hamilton dreamed; but it has moved along
consistently as a manufacturing center with a long list of
products to its credit, three of which never entered into
even the far-seeing calculations of Hamilton silk, loco-
motives and airplane motors.
NEW JERSEY'S FIRST SUMMER RESORT
Cape May, at the southernmost point of New Jersey,
where the State dips its toe into the Atlantic Ocean, is the
oldest of its many seashore resorts. The Indians discovered
it and liked it long before the shot of a musket broke the
quiet of the forest or before the ring of a woodsman's axe
was heard in the land.
Cape May became a vacation resort for the Lenapes.
They wore paths to it with their moccasined feet, fished
along the shore, and dug for clams and oysters all sum-
mer. When it was time to return to the fields to harvest
their maize, the red-skinned summer visitors dried oysters,
clams and fish to take back with them for use in the
winter.
The first white man to enter Delaware Bay passing the
cape, was Henry Hudson, who sailed up the coast in
1609 in his bark, the Half Moon. Hudson claimed the
land in the name of the States-General of the Netherlands.
Fourteen years later the Dutch West India Company
sent out Captain Cornelius Jacobsen Mey to establish set-
tlements. Arriving in Delaware Bay in the Glad Tidings
in 1623, Mey gave his own name to the cape.
Peter Hyssen, the Dutch captain of a whaling ship,
purchased the land from the Indians before 1640. He
paid for it in the usual way with copper kettles, knives,
beads and other trinkets. His tract was four miles wide
and four miles long.
There were many whales off the New Jersey coast in
63
SUMMER VISITORS AT CAPE MAY IN THE i88o ? s
the early days, and whalers found the cape a convenient
place to bring their catches and cut them up. Besides the
Dutch whalers, there were others from Long Island and
Connecticut who put up sheds at Cape May_ as early as
1640. There was no permanent settlement until 1685.
These early settlers were peaceful Quakers, tending
rigidly to their farms and their simple home life. Even
when pirates like Captain Kidd and Blackbeard Teach
came to fill their empty water casks from Lilly Pond they
were not disturbed. Kidd, a privateer out of New York,
turned pirate and was pursued by the King's officers. He
was captured and hanged in London from the yardarm of
his ship. His captors complained that they had received no
cooperation from the Cape May people because the
Quakers there disliked "gaols" (jails), and refused to help
in sending anyone to jail. Many of them had suffered
NEW JERSEY'S FIRST SUMMER RESORT 65
imprisonment in England because of their religious
beliefs.
A report by Colonel Quary to the British Lords of
Trade in 1699 shows that Captain Kidd did use Cape May
as a hide-out. The report says:
I have, by the assistance of Col. Basse, apprehended
four more the pyrates at Cape May. 'Hee (Kidd)
hath been here (Cape May) about ten days and the
people frequently goes on board him. Hee is in a
sloop with about fourty men and a vast treasure.
For years many people have dug in the sands in hope
of finding the famous Kidd treasure. Nothing, however,
has been found except those sparkling but worthless stones
known as Cape May diamonds. These are colorless Crystals
of quartz found in granite, gneiss and other rocks and
also in most sands and gravels. They were produced in
the furnaces of an ancient geological age when these rocks
were heated to a melting point. Glass is made from the
sand underlying this region.
During the Revolution, British men-of-war would land
boats and raid Cape May for cattle and fill their water
barrels from Lilly Pond. The inhabitants were so angry
over these raids that they sacrificed their own fresh water
supply by digging a ditch from the ocean to the pond,
making the water brackish and unfit to drink. This dis-
couraged the enemy from coming.
After the Revolution, aristocratic Philadelphians sail-
ing on Delaware Bay began landing at the small fishing
village on the Cape and came to like it. It was an ideal
place for bathing. The water was not too deep, and the
beach was firm, with a gentle slope. The settlers finally
realized that there was money to be made in providing
66 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
food and lodging for the visitors. In 1801 Postmaster
Ellis Hughes put the following advertisement in the
Philadelphia Daily Aurora:
The subscriber has prepared himself for entertaining
company who use sea bathing, and he is accom-
modated with extensive house-room, with fish, oysters,
crabs, and good liquors. Care will be taken of gentle-
men's horses. Carriages may be driven along the
margin of the ocean for miles, and the wheels will
scarcely make an impression upon the sand. The
slope of the shore is so regular that persons may wade
a great distance. It is the most delightful spot that
the citizens may retire to in the hot season. A stage
starts from Cooper's Ferry [Camden] on Thursday
in every week and arrives at Cape Island on Friday;
it starts from Cape Island on Friday and Tuesday
each week and arrives in Philadelphia the following
day.
The ambitious postmaster also called attention to the
view of the lighthouse, the many ships that came there,
and the cool ocean breezes. He gave the routes for those
traveling in their own carriages, and mentioned that there
were boats for those who wished to travel by water. Eager
vacationists sailed slowly down the Delaware, or drove
along the bad, sandy road from Camden in dearborns
(four-wheeled carriages).
The accommodations to which the postmaster referred
in the advertisement consisted of a huge barnlike building
with one room, called the Atlantic Hotel. At night, a
large sheet divided it in half. The men slept on one side
and the women on the other. Later it was improved and
became the resort of many prominent and wealthy men.
NEW JERSEY'S FIRST SUMMER RESORT 67
Commodore Stephen Decatur came there season after
season for 16 years.
The hotel prospered. The year after the historic ad-
vertisement, boats ran regularly from Philadelphia to
Cape May. In 1818 Congress Hall, another hotel, was
built. By 1830 there were six boarding houses, three of
them very large, to accommodate the increasing summer
population.
Bathing suits in those days were strange collections of
old clothes which were carried to the Cape in carpetbags.
Shoes and stockings were worn to protect feet from pebbles
and shells. Later a regular bathing suit was designed with
long sleeves, skirts, pantaloons with ruffles, and draw-
strings at the neck, wrists and ankles.
By 1850 Cape May was on its way to becoming the
leading summer resort in the country. A steamboat made
the trip from Philadelphia in half a day. Each spring the
natives set out the pier at which the boat tied up, and each
fall they took it apart and stored it because of the winter
storms.
Among the famous politicians who came to the resort
at about this time was Henry Clay. He was so popular
that at one time a group of women admirers chased him
along the beach and cut off locks of his hair as souvenirs.
The building of the West Jersey Railroad from Phila-
delphia to Cape May in 1866 spread the Cape's name far
and wide. Congressmen, bankers, wealthy manufacturers
and noted writers came here. Society leaders from Wash-
ington, Richmond and Baltimore made the place a fashion
center. Five Presidents of the United States Pierce, Bu-
chanan, Lincoln, Grant and Harrison were entertained
in the large hotels.
Days were spent pleasantly in bathing, sunning on the
BATHING COS-
TUME s OF
THE 90'S
beach, and driving on the firm sands at low tide. In the
evenings there were dancing, gambling and other amuse-
ments. The resort later offered such attractions as the
Annapolis Naval Academy Band, and the Marine Band
with John Philip Sousa.
By 1900, with the development of other resorts along
the coast. Cape May began to lose its popularity. In 1903
Henry Ford came to the cape with several other men
who were interested in racing to try out his experimental
car in a race on the three-mile stretch of smooth beach.
A touring car was brought along to assist in starting Ford's
auto. The contest was not won by the Ford entry.
Ford had to sell the touring car later in order to get
enough money to return to Detroit with the racing car.
Daniel Focer was the buyer, and Ford appointed him the
agent for the new Ford car. The agency is operating to-
day, and the old touring car stands on the display floor
among the streamlined modern models.
Cape May is no longer the famous resort it was 5 how-
ever, the old homes and stately hotels are standing, and
people who like its beauty and quiet still return year after
year.
CRADLE OF THE TELEGRAPH
On Speedwell Avenue in Morristown, New Jersey,
stands an undistinguished two-and-one-half-story frame
building, once a part of the famous Speedwell Iron Works.
Now situated on the grounds of a private residence, its
age has been disguised by a new shingle roof and clap-
board siding, and the original basement is half concealed
in a banked lawn. Here was born one hundred years ago
an industry that has transformed the commerce of the
world.
Samuel Finley Breese Morse came to Morristown in
1837 to work with Alfred Vail on a problem which had
challenged scientists for almost a century. Alfred, son of
Stephen Vail, proprietor of the Speedwell Iron Works,
was an earnest young mechanic. Morse was no young
man 5 behind him lay two years of persistent experimenta-
tion with the telegraph. And behind this was the memory
of the checkered career as a portrait painter, satisfaction
with the high praise of critics, disappointment with the
low sums of patrons. At 46 Morse was well equipped with
the persevering spirit so often necessary to scientific ac-
complishment.
Just how much Morse knew about the field in which he
was soon to become famous is an unsettled question. An
artist turned inventor practically overnight, he could have
spent years catching up on what had been accomplished in
the complicated science of telegraphy. He would have
had to go all the way back to the first proposal for com-
69
7O STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
munication by electricity in a letter published in 1753 in
the Scots Magazine of Edinburgh, signed only with the
mysterious initials, "CM."
Twenty-one years later George Louis Le Sage exhibited
at Geneva the first telegraph instrument on record. This
device required a separate wire for each letter of the
alphabet. At the receiving end was a row of tiny lettered
pith balls, suspended on silk threads at the terminals of
the wires. As the current was sent through their respective
wires the balls would swing, enabling the receiver to spell
out words and sentences. In the years that followed, ex-
periment with the telegraph spread all over the continent
and to England, where in 1824 William Sturgeon de-
veloped the electromagnet, the direct inspiration of
Morse's work on the telegraph.
Returning from Europe in 1832 on the packet Sully,
Morse listened to a fellow passenger, Dr. Charles T.
Jackson, describe experiments showing the property of
electricity to travel over any length of wire instantane-
ously. Jackson commented that the presence of the cur-
rent in any part of the line could be ascertained by the
spark, or by an electromagnet. The electromagnet that
Jackson described consisted of soft iron bent in the shape
of a horseshoe, around the limbs of which was wound a
copper wire in a loose coil. With a flash of understanding
that went to the heart of the problem of achieving an
electric telegraph, Morse remarked, "If the presence of
electricity can be made visible in any part of the circuit,
I see no reason why intelligence may not be transmitted
instantaneously by electricity." That statement was the
birth of today's telegraph.
After discouraging efforts to secure painting commis-
sions, in 1835 Morse became a professor in the Fine Arts
CRADLE OF THE TELEGRAPH Jl
Department of the University of the City of New York,
now New York University. Relatively free from financial
worry, he set to work to develop the idea suggested by
Jackson's information on the electromagnet. Whether
Morse knew that a number of crude instruments had
already accomplished instantaneous transmission is another
doubtful matter. It is far more important that he grasped
the problem immediately and that he labored until he
brought telegraphy from the stage of theories and rude
experimental apparatus to that of practical use.
From the time that Morse began to apply his under-
standing to the task of developing the telegraph, his work
became crisscrossed with that of three other scientists, Dr.
Leonard Gale, Dr. Joseph Henry and Alfred Vail. Al-
though their just share in the great work can probably
never be determined accurately, all undoubtedly con-
tributed significantly to the final triumph. Technical diffi-
culties with an instrument made in 1836 sent Morse first
to Dr. Gale, a colleague on the faculty of the university.
Gale gave him important advice on the best type of battery
for his purposes and suggested increasing the number of
turns of wire on the electromagnet, thereby making the
magnet stronger.
This latter advice was based on the work of Dr. Henry.
Henry had indeed all but forestalled Morse in the inven-
tion of an electric telegraph. While a professor at Albany
Academy in 1831, he hung a mile of copper wire around
the walls of a large classroom and placed a battery and
one of his powerful magnets at each end of the circuit.
When the magnet was excited by impulses from the bat-
tery, it caused a rod, which had been in contact with it, to
move and strike a bell. A year later Henry accepted a
position at the College of New Jersey, now Princeton,
72 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
where in 1836 he built a telegraphic circuit between two
campus buildings. He was more interested in the purely
scientific aspect of his invention and did not develop it
beyond signaling.
In September 1837 at New York University, in a room
hung with 1,700 feet of wire, Morse actually sent a mes-
sage. His apparatus differed greatly from that which
became the parent of present-day instruments. The simple
plan of sending letters and numerals by pressing down a
key by hand did not occur to the inventor until later. This
early apparatus was much more complicated. Each time
electricity passed through it, an electromagnet at the re-
ceiving end attracted a soft iron bar to which a pencil was
fastened. When the current was shut off, a spring pulled
the iron bar and pencil back to the original position. The
pencil was thus moved back and forth over a strip of
paper, which traveled along beneath it, and made a series
of V-shaped marks which could be translated into letters
and words.
To make and break the circuit at the sending end in
some regular way Morse used pieces of metal with an edge
notched in different combinations to represent characters.
Pieces of this "type" were set in a form to spell out words.
The sending lever, which operated like a seesaw, closed
and opened the circuit alternately. At one end of the lever
was a spike pointing downward. As the "type" was pushed
along beneath this spike, the points pushed the spike up-
wards, so that the opposite end of the seesaw descended to
close the circuit. In the spaces between the "type" points,
the contact would be broken. The series of contacts acti-
vated the magnet at the receiving end, and the pencil
recorded the symbols. The zigzag line was in effect
THE VAIL BARN, CRADLE OF THE TELEGRAPH
a crude forerunner of the dot and dash system later
employed.
For the experiment at New York University Morse
selected the word "successful." It was an apt choice, for
in the company which witnessed the demonstration was
Alfred Vail, who was so impressed that he desired to have
a share in the enterprise. He persuaded his father, Judge
Stephen Vail, and his brother, George, to advance $2,000
to cover the expense of perfecting the instrument.
Vail and Morse entered into a contract under the terms
of which Vail was to give his services, $2,000 in cash and
the use of his father's shop in return for one-quarter of
the American royalties and one-half of the foreign interest.
Vail retired to his shop in the yard of his father's iron
works and applied himself to working out mechanical im-
provements on Morse's instrument.
74 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
Judge Vail was now in the telegraph business, and, busi-
nessman that he was, he expected results. His own skep-
ticism at his son's enthusiasm was heightened by the jests
of his friends and, worse still, by the evasive attitude of
the inventors themselves.
About four months after the contract had been signed,
a very short time in the development of an invention, but
doubtless a very long time to dubious Judge Vail, Morse
and his son invited him to a demonstration at the Speed-
well shop. They also asked people from the iron works
and the surrounding districts.
Morse, at this time, considered that the most efficient
method of communication was by using numerals, each of
which referred to a word in a specially numbered diction-
ary. The dictionary was prepared 5 the apparatus was in
order 5 three miles of copper wire had been looped about
the walls of the room. When the group assembled on
January 6, 1838, the judge handed his son a message on
a slip of paper, saying, "If you can send this and Professor
Morse can read it at the other end, I shall be convinced."
Alfred Vail must have stiffened when he read his father's
sentence "A patient waiter is no loser." A moment or two
passed while he assembled the numbers for the message ;
then there was only the scratching of Morse's pen at the
other end of the wire. When he had finished writing, he
handed the message to the judge, correct. Jubilation at
the success of the experiment broke the tenseness of the
atmosphere, and Judge Vail, now convinced, immediately
urged that the inventors ask Congress to establish a
Government line.
Although they were not able to flash the news instantly
to the Morristown Journal, shortly afterward Vail and
CRADLE OF THE TELEGRAPH 75
Morse had the satisfaction of reading the following
account of their work in that paper:
It is with some degree of pride, we confess, that it
falls to our lot first to announce the complete success
of this wonderful piece of mechanism, and that hun-
dreds of our citizens were the first to witness its sur-
prising results. No place could have been found more
suitable to pursue the course of experiments necessary
to perfecting the details of machinery than the quiet
retirement of the Speedwell works, replete as they
are with every kind of convenience which capital and
mechanical skill can supply. . . . Others may have
suggested the possibility of conveying intelligence by
electricity, but this is the first instance of its actual
transmission and permanent record.
Despite such an enthusiastic reception and Judge Vail's
haste to commercialize their success, the scientists con-
tinued to improve their instrument. Only 18 days after
the Morristown demonstration, they held another trial at
New York University at which letters of the alphabet
replaced the old numerals so that the dots and dashes
actually spelled out words. According to the New York
Journal of Commerce y this improvement increased the
number of words that could be transmitted in a minute
from ten to twenty.
In a short time, however, Morse and Vail discarded type
altogether and substituted the key and keyboard which
have remained permanent features of the telegraph ever
since. The sending instrument which they devised was a
simple affair. A spring raised a metal knob over another
metal knob attached to a board. When the top knob was
76 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
pressed down to make contact with the lower one, the
circuit was completed.
Alfred Vail pushed on to perfect the recording of the
dots and dashes. After considerable experiment with pens,
pencils and other markers, he finally adopted a blunt steel
stylus which marked the telegraphic symbols on a sheet
of paper. Years later, when the question of the true in-
vention of the telegraph was being dragged through the
courts, Vail explained that by the terms of his contract
with Morse he could not obtain a patent for the device.
To convince the public of the practical possibilities of
the telegraph it was necessary to give a demonstration
covering two distant points. It was not enough to send a
message from one room to another or even from one
house to another. It had to be shown that a message could
be sent over a wire, no matter how great its length.
Again and again Congress was petitioned for a subsidy
to permit building a telegraph line between Baltimore and
Washington, but each time it was presented the bill died
in committee. The public seemed utterly indifferent to the
whole idea. Talking over wires! It was absurd!
On February 23, 1843, tne bill was again introduced.
It passed the House by 6 votes, but it had only a slim
chance in the Senate, due to the pressure of business.
Morse asked two Senators if they thought the Senate
would consider his bill before its adjournment, but they
gave him no grounds for encouragement. He went to his
room wholly discouraged.
The next morning as Morse was sitting at breakfast
Annie Ellsworth, the daughter of the Commissioner of
Patents, called on him. When he expressed surprise at
the early call, she said, "I have come to congratulate you."
"Indeed, for what?"
CRADLE OF THE TELEGRAPH 77
"On the passage of your bill."
Her father had waited in the Senate gallery till the end
of the session, when, to everyone's surprise, $30,000 had
been appropriated for the construction of the line between
Washington and Baltimore. Morse was so elated that he
promised the young woman to let her choose the first
message.
Work was started at once. There were no precedents to
go by. Every move was a pioneer step. Two-thirds of the
appropriation was exhausted in using underground wires,
but this method was found unworkable, because of faulty
insulation. Fighting against the loss of time and money,
they hung the wire between tall poles, using the necks of
bottles for insulation at the poles. This idea was contrib-
uted by Ezra Cornell, mechanic, inventor, promoter and
businessman who later founded the great university that
bears his name.
On May 24, 1 844, the day of the demonstration, Morse
sat at the transmitter in the Supreme Court Room of the
Capitol; Vail waited at the receiving end in Baltimore.
Annie Ellsworth handed Morse the message, "What Hath
God Wrought?" which he ticked out on the key. In a few
moments the receiver clicked out the same message. The
telegraph was a success.
Morse offered his invention to the Government for
$100,000, but it was refused. However, $8,000 was voted
to maintain the 4O-mile line already constructed. The in-
ventors and a promoter then organized the Magnetic
Telegraph Company with a line from Philadelphia to
New York. In 1846 Vail and Morse leased the Washing-
ton-Baltimore line from the Government and shortly
afterward acquired it outright for the Magnetic system.
78 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
Congress had definitely taken itself out of the telegraph
business.
Even before this there had been competition from other
lines. As companies increased, patents were infringed on,
and Morse and his partners were obliged to spend much
time defending their claims. An unfortunate side light on
this litigation was the frequent presence of Dr. Joseph
Henry as a witness against Morse. Henry had been
offended in 1845 when VaiPs book on the telegraph had
failed to take into account the importance of his use of the
electromagnet in transmitting signals.
The Morse company joined with other telegraph com-
panies, but in 1859 they were absorbed by the American
Telegraph Company. The era of swift expansion across
the continent was at hand; and the telegraph was ready
to play its part in the development of the Nation.
A CONFEDERATE SHRINE IN NEW JERSEY
The heroes of the Civil War are honored on two memo-
rial days in New Jersey. May 30 is dedicated to the sol-
diers who fought for the Union, and April 26 to the
soldiers who fought for the Confederacy.
At Finn's Point National Cemetery, adjoining the Fort
Mott reservation, about five miles from Salem, the Fed-
eral Government, in 1912, erected an 85-foot monument.
On 12 tablets at the base are inscribed the names of 2,436
soldiers of the Confederacy who died during a cholera
epidemic in Fort Delaware, where they were being held
as military prisoners.
Every April 26 a group of the Confederate Daughters
of America journey to this spot to place wreaths at the
monument in tribute to the men who were brought here
for burial from the island fort where they had died miser-
ably of neglect and disease, far from their homes.
The cemetery, enclosed by a gray stone wall, with its
orderly rows of gravestones, its well-kept lawns and fine
trees, is an impressively peaceful spot. A fringe of native
brush and scrub oaks is kept as a bird refuge. The songs
of birds and the wind in the trees are the only sounds that
penetrate the quiet. Leading inward from the entrance
gates are two rows of bronze plates, on each one of which
is inscribed a verse of Theodore O'Hara's famous poem,
The Bivouac of the Dead.
79
FINN'S POINT CEMETERY
One verse of the poem sounds a solemn note:
Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead!
Dear as the blood ye gave
No impious footstep here shall tread
The herbage of your grave:
Nor shall your glory be forgot
While Fame her record keeps,
Or honor points the hallowed spot
Where Valor proudly sleeps.
At one end of the cemetery a smaller monument honors
the 165 Union soldiers, of the Fort Delaware garrison,
who died in the same epidemic. Now that the scars of war
are healed, the Union soldiers are also honored by a
wreath placed there by the descendants of their former
A CONFEDERATE SHRINE IN NEW JERSEY 8 I
enemies. Over the graves of all, the Stars and Stripes flut-
ters constantly in the breeze.
Fort Delaware, today the central link in the chain of
forts near the mouth of Delaware River, was designed to
protect the city of Philadelphia. It was completed in 1859
just in time for the Civil War. Pea Patch Island, on
which the fort is situated, lies about midway in the Dela-
ware River between the Delaware and New Jersey shores.
There is a legend dating back to Colonial times that a
ship laden with peas was grounded on a sandbar at this
point. The roots grew, accumulating drift and sediment
until an island of about 178 acres appeared on the surface
of the water. Parts of the island are actually about three
feet below water level, and a sea wall has been built to
keep out the tide.
By 1861 about 1,000 prisoners were interned on the
swampy little island with its grim granite fort. Some
prominent citizens of Salem County and Delaware who
had given evidence of their sympathy with the Southern
cause were among the first to be confined there. In 1862
the place began to fill with war prisoners, and by the end
of 1863, 12,000 prisoners, most of whom were taken at
Gettysburg, were crowded together in a place that could
accommodate only 4,000 with safety. Rude wooden bar-
racks were constructed to house the wretched men. Barbed
wire and alert sentries discouraged them from rash at-
tempts to escape ; those who managed to elude the guards
and get to the mainland were helped to reach their own
lines by means of an underground railway system that had
been set up in Salem and in southern Delaware.
Fort Delaware was to the South what Andersonville
and Libbey were to the North. It was a cesspool of misery,
dirt, lice, rats and disease. Dr. S. Weir Mitchell, who
8 2 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
later became famous as a specialist in nervous diseases and
a writer of historical romances, was at this time Federal
Inspector of Prisons. In a letter written to his sister he
describes the conditions of the island. Part of his letter
is as follows:
Tomorrow I go to Fort Delaware to inspect that
inferno of detained rebels. A thousand ill, twelve
thousand on an island that should hold four thou-
sand, the general level three feet below the water
mark; twenty deaths a day of dysentery, and the liv-
ing having more life on them than in them. Occa-
sional lack of water, and thus a Christian nation
treats the captives of its sword.
The thermometer is ninety. Not that I care. It may
go until it requires a balloon to get any higher, and
not reach my boiling point.
Unruly prisoners were thrown into dungeons built into
the solid masonry of the fort. These dungeons were totally
dark and ventilated only by an airshaft too narrow to
admit a small man.
The only water supply was the rain that washed off
the flat roofs of the fort, drained along gutters and then
filtered through sand. When this supply failed, water was
brought from Brandywine Creek in Delaware and dumped
into cisterns without any attempt at filtering.
When the number of dead exceeded the capacity of the
cemetery on the little island, the government decided to
bury them on the Jersey shore at Finn's Point, on what is
now the Fort Mott reservation. A government tug, the
Osceola, chugged back and forth across the mile of water
transporting loads of bodies. Long ditches were dug and
A CONFEDERATE SHRINE IN NEW JERSEY 83
the dead were dumped in 2,436 of them without even
the questionable glory of being shot down on the battle-
field.
A government launch from Fort Mott takes visitors to
Pea Patch Island, where the old granite fort, surrounded
by its 4O-foot moat, looks much as it did in those dark days
of the Civil War. Many of the old cannon balls, some
weighing as much as 107 pounds, are still in evidence.
On the ground floor is one of the bastion rooms set
aside for a bakery $ the old-fashioned brick oven built into
the walls can still be seen. It could not have supplied
much more bread than the officers needed for themselves.
During the late i88o's and 'go's young people from
Salem held dances in the guardrooms and prison rooms on
the second floor. But from the time of the Spanish-Ameri-
can War no civilian has been allowed on the island with-
out special permission from the War Department.
PRESIDENT GROVER CLEVELAND
GROVER CLEVELAND'S BIRTHPLACE
Grover Cleveland never came back to the little white
house in Caldwell, New Jersey, where he was born.
Caught in the swirl of American politics, he moved for-
ward until at last he sat in another white house on Penn-
sylvania Avenue in the Nation's capital. But his friends
and admirers appreciated the significance of the modest
dwelling set in a broad green lawn in the shadow of a red
brick church, on busy Bloomfield Avenue.
The former President had been dead two years when
it was first planned to make a memorial of the house in
84
,_
BIRTHPLACE OF GROVER CLEVELAND, CALDWELL, N. J.
which he had been born. Built in 1833, it was still being
used as the manse of the First Presbyterian Church when
in 1910 a number of prominent Democrats of Caldwell,
Verona, Essex Fells and Roseland met to discuss taking
over the house as a permanent political club. In the face
of opposition from the trustees of the church, the plan col-
lapsed, but the following year it was agreed to sell the
birthplace to the Cleveland Memorial Association for
$18,000, even though there was loud dissent from those
who wanted the church to retain ownership. The resolu-
tion passed, 15 to 2, and the sale was consummated March
9, 1912.
Dr. John H. Finley, then president of the College of
the City of New York and at present associate editor of
the New York Times, Cleveland H. Dodge and George
W. Perkins were to act as trustees of the property until
86 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
the Cleveland Birthplace Association had legal status.
Also interested in the patriotic venture were Thomas A.
Buckner, then vice president of the New York Life Insur-
ance Co., and President Day of the Equitable Life Assur-
ance Co.
On March 18, 1913, the 76th anniversary of Grover
Cleveland's birth, the home was dedicated before one of
the largest crowds ever assembled in Caldwell. Mrs.
Thomas Jex Preston Jr., widow of the President, his chil-
dren, Esther, Marion and Richard, and several members
of the Cleveland cabinet attended. Dr. Finley presided.
The streets and houses of the borough were hung with
flags and bunting, and a band paraded on Bloomfield
Avenue to the schoolhouse where the pupils were waiting
to be dismissed to march to the exercises.
In 1915 William H. Van Wart, secretary of the Asso-
ciation, suggested that the United States take over the
manse, as it was always called, and preserve it as a national
memorial. The following year President Woodrow Wil-
son, who had spoken from its steps in 1910 during his
gubernatorial campaign, brought the plan to Congress.
The Association was willing to offer the home free of all
encumbrances if Congress would make it a public memo-
rial and provide for its upkeep. The annual cost of main-
tenance, it was computed, was no more than $500. When
the Attorney General gave it as his opinion that such a
purchase was impossible, the idea was abandoned.
Even though George M. Canfield, who had subscribed
$IO,OOO originally, left a $20,000 endowment in his will,
the Association was having difficulty in maintaining the
property, which by 1930 was valued at $100,000. There
were other isolated instances of philanthropy, but by 1933
it was clear that the Association could not support the
GROVER CLEVELAND'S BIRTHPLACE 87
home. It was Dr. Finley who then asked: "Should not the
State of New Jersey show her pride in her only native
son who, of his own choice, came back to her after serving
as Governor of a sister state and twice President of the
United States, by making his birthplace a State memo-
rial?"
The legislature considered the question, and on June
13, 1933, the State Senate voted to take the house as a
gift from the Grover Cleveland Birthplace Association.
But since the State cannot accept property encumbered by
debts, a $5,000 mortgage held up formal acceptance of
the manse. Finally, on February 13, 1934, Governor A.
Harry Moore named a board of 20 trustees, serving with-
out pay, to maintain the Cleveland birthplace for the
State. Among the trustees were Dr. Finley, Newton D.
Baker, former Secretary of War, Adolph Ochs, Richard
F. Cleveland, Louis Annin Ames and Edward D. Duf-
field. The transfer ceremonies took place October 6, 1934.
Under the Works Progress Administration a $10,000 pro-
gram of renovation was inaugurated.
Additions had been made to the house from time to
time after the Clevelands moved away, but when it was
decided to make a memorial of the manse the house was
restored as nearly as possible to its original form. Except
for minor details, the eight-room dwelling remains as it
was when the infant who was to become President slept
in the borrowed maple cradle in the small room on the
first floor. The flooring, of planks of random width, is
almost intact; the original bannister railing, bent from one
piece of wood, is still pinned to the walls by wooden pegs.
The door and the windows and the white enamel door-
knob are just as they were. On the black door lock is the
00 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
broadwinged figure of the American eagle, symbolic, per-
haps, of the destiny of the child who was born here.
Charles E. Welsh, curator of the home, estimates that
about 250 visitors come each month to walk about the
grounds and look at the exhibits. These include, in addi-
tion to Cleveland's cradle and his White House chair, the
desk he used while mayor of Buffalo, the lawbooks over
which he pored, the preacher's license given to his father
by the New York Presbytery, the family Bible and numer-
ous religious tomes Richard Cleveland must have used for
his Sunday sermons. Carefully preserved in a box is a piece
of the wedding cake served to guests at the White House
when Cleveland married Frances Folsom.
On the walls of the home are many pictures of the
President, the members of his family and his many close
friends. The variety of his correspondence attests his attrac-
tion, which overrode the boundaries of politics or creed.
Joseph Jefferson, who created the role of Rip Van Winkle
on the stage, and Richard Watson Gilder, poet and editor,
wrote affectionate letters. The letters of Richard Croker,
who wrote to Congressmen begging that they attempt to
influence the President's policies, are strong testimonials
of Cleveland's steadfast political honesty.
Grover Cleveland was born in the manse on March 18,
1837, three years after his father, the Reverend Richard
Falley Cleveland, had come to occupy the pulpit of Cald-
well's First Presbyterian Church. The minister and his
wife, Ann, named their fifth child for Steven Grover,
Richard Cleveland's predecessor. The family lived in
Caldwell, with an income of never more than $600 a year,
until 1841, when a call came from Fayetteville, New
York.
The Clevelands led a difficult life at Fayetteville. The
GROVER CLEVELAND'S BIRTHPLACE 89
family soon grew to eleven, and the meager salary of a
country preacher, however augmented by donations from
kindly parishioners, had to be stretched a long way. When
the boy was 14, circumstances compelled him to give up
his education and take a job clerking in a store. For 22
months he slept in a cold room above the store, tormented
by rats that overran the banks of the canal and burrowed
in the earth beneath the shabby houses. He rose early and
worked very late for a dollar a day and "keep."
Then the family's financial situation improved, and
Grover was able to quit his job. But his father died shortly
after, and rather than burden his family with additional
expenses Cleveland left home for New York, where he
found a job as bookkeeper in a school for the blind. This
did not last long, and he looked to the West for a brighter
future.
On his way to the city of Cleveland, which bears the
name of one of his kinsmen, he stopped off at Buffalo to
see an uncle. This man persuaded him to remain in Buf-
falo and placed him with an important law firm, where
the boy began training for his profession.
In 1859 ne was admitted to the bar, and by 1863 he
had become assistant district attorney of Erie County.
When the Civil War broke out he was called in the draft,
but because he was virtually the sole support of his family
he borrowed $300 to buy an exemption. Cleveland became
sheriff of Erie County in 1870, and n years later was
elected mayor of Buffalo, pledged to cleanse the city of
the remnants of a once-powerful ring of grafters. Tam-
many Hall opposed him in the campaign for Governor of
New York in 1883, but he was elected after a bitterly
fought campaign and began a relentless war against
corruption in government.
9O STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
The Democratic convention in the following year was
a hard-fought and turbulent affair. The announcement of
Cleveland's candidacy was greeted by a mixture of cat-
calls and cheers. But the poor reception was not indicative
of the final result. In 1884, a scant three years after be-
coming mayor of Buffalo, Grover Cleveland was elected
President of the United States.
His administration was marked by serious labor troubles,
and in his message to Congress on April 22, 1886, Cleve-
land indicated how deeply concerned he was with the
quarrels of labor and capital. There was no department of
labor at the time in the Cabinet, although a Bureau of
Labor, with limited powers, was already in existence.
Cleveland advocated that the work of this bureau be ex-
panded by the appointment of a permanent commission to
arbitrate labor disputes. This agency, he hoped, would
function better than a board chosen only after a contro-
versy had begun. The present National Labor Relations
Board represents the development of Grover Cleveland's
vision.
In 1888 Cleveland was defeated for reelection by Ben-
jamin Harrison, but his popularity had by no means
waned, for in 1892 he was returned to the Presidency, the
only man so rewarded in our history. After a second term
of splendid service to the Nation, he retired to Princeton.
Cleveland died there June 24, 1908, at "Westland," the
estate that he had named for former Dean West of Prince-
ton University.
The Grover Cleveland Birthplace trustees have planned
a publicity campaign to acquaint visitors with the first
home of a great President. A sign at the entrance to the
Borough of Caldwell directs tourists to the house. When
the task of gathering more relics has been completed, the
GROVER CLEVELAND'S BIRTHPLACE 91
trustees hope to publish a booklet describing the manse
more fully.
The simple white house with its four gables and lattice-
work, the trim lawn, the bucket well that stands in the
yard all these are the mementoes of the beginning of an
American career.
ANIMAL QUARANTINE
Years ago the spread of tuberculosis and foot-and-mouth
disease among farm animals caused the loss of millions of
dollars yearly. In order to safeguard the home cattle from
infectious diseases brought in from abroad, the United
States passed a law in 1884 providing for an inspection
and quarantine service for animals.
As soon as the animal quarantine legislation was passed
the Department of Agriculture set about establishing quar-
antine stations where imported animals could be held
while undergoing observation and inspection. One of
these, for the Port of Baltimore, was at Turner in Mary-
land j another, somewhat larger, for the Port of New
York was first established at Garfield, New Jersey, and
later moved to its present site at Clifton, where a 5o-acre
reservation has been set aside as a sort of Ellis Island for
imported animals. They are held here from 15 to 30
days to determine whether they are carrying disease.
When a ship enters an American harbor the passengers
must pass through a routine quarantine inspection and the
captain must testify that there is no contagious disease
among the passengers or crew; but where there are ani-
mals in the cargo the procedure is more rigorous.
All such animals as sheep, goats, cattle, horses, camels,
giraffes those that graze or chew the cud must be
passed by a veterinarian before the owner is allowed to
take them to his home. If, however, an animal comes into
the country with papers certifying to its good health, and
92
ANIMAL QURANTINE 93
the certificate is countersigned by a United States Govern-
ment official, the animal may be admitted without quaran-
tine. Dogs, cats and similar pets have not been subject to
quarantine regulation for many years.
Animals that must be submitted to quarantine are taken
from the steamer and shipped directly to the Clifton
Quarantine Station by the Newark branch of the Erie
Railroad. They must remain until the superintendent is
satisfied that they do not carry any infectious disease. The
length of the term of quarantine varies with different
kinds of animals. Sheep, goats, deer and antelope are usu-
ally released after 1 5 days, while cattle stay for an average
of 30 days.
Since most of the animals are brought in for breeding
purposes, they are of the highest class and must be given
the finest care and food. Often their new owners stay at
the station with them during the quarantine period to
keep an eye on them.
On the reservation are 19 polished-brick barns and two
of wood, each with its own spacious, fenced-in paddock.
The barns are of the latest design and are kept scrupu-
lously clean and well ventilated. Each barn is about 35
feet long and 25 feet wide. There are accommodations for
about 600 cattle. Separated from the barns and paddocks
by a steel-wire fence is the residential section, where are
the houses of the superintendent of the station and the
chief mechanic. These white frame houses are pleasantly
surrounded by several acres of well-kept lawn, trees and
shrubbery.
Only the employees of the owner are allowed to handle
the animals. These men must remain at the station during
the quarantine period, attending to the feeding, watering
and cleansing just as if they were in the home barn. The
94 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
workers of one owner are not permitted to enter the barns
and paddocks of another owner. All expenses, except water
and light, which are provided by the government, must
be met by the different owners.
Every day the superintendent in charge of the quaran-
tine inspects the visitors. The government employs four
workmen to keep the barns in good order and fumigated
after each consignment has left. These men are not al-
lowed to enter a barn that is occupied. When a workman
has completed fumigation of a barn, he has to be fumi-
gated himself before proceeding to the next barn. These
four workmen are also charged with keeping pasture lands
in proper state. The superintendent, in addition to super-
vising the farm, has to spend a good deal of time at the
Port of New York examining the animals as they arrive
to make sure that they meet the high standards set by the
United States Government. There is today an embargo
against the importation of livestock from about 50 coun-
tries where hoof-and-mouth disease is prevalent.
Occasionally the cows, sheep and deer have some
strange-looking fellow guests. Frank Buck of "Bring 'Em
Back Alive" fame, before turning over the jungle animals
which he imports for zoos and parks, has to submit them
to the regular quarantine. A newly arrived giraffe may
raise a proud nose above the fence that separates him from
the humble sheep, goats or cows in an adjoining paddock j
but for all his distinguished foreign air he must submit
to the same laws that govern the common everyday ani-
mals of the field and farm. Most of the cattle come from
the Channel Islands, Jersey and Guernsey, for these are
the most desirable for breeding purposes.
One is apt to find visitors from odd corners of the earth
feeding on New Jersey grass at the Clifton Station.
ANIMAL QURANTINE 95
Recently 34 musk oxen from Greenland on their way to
Africa were guests. From Singapore came three mouse
deer. These tiny animals less than a foot high and weigh-
ing less than 15 pounds were shipped to California as
household pets.
LIVING LANDMARKS
Older and more beautiful than the granite columns and
bronze tablets by which New Jersey honors famous men
and events are a number of fine old trees that have with-
stood storm and blight for centuries. Some of these, be-
cause of their historic associations, are being cared for
today by patriotic societies, governmental agencies or pri-
vate individuals.
Of these testaments to New Jersey's passing history,
oaks and sycamores are most plentiful. Both are hardwood
species and noted for long life. The oak grows slowly.
The sycamore sometimes called the buttonwood sets a
faster pace; by some authorities it is considered the most
massive of our native deciduous trees. It resembles the
plane tree, and is distinguished by its burrlike blossoms
and the periodic peeling of its bark, which leaves streaked
patches of white. The sycamore prefers low ground, and
is most commonly found in southern New Jersey.
Close to the bank of the Delaware River in the city of
Burlington there stands a sycamore whose age is estimated
at 250 years. Though it has been filled with cement and
has lost many of its branches, the old tree maintains a
sturdy grip on life. It measures 20.3 feet in circumference
at breast height. Once the river flowed directly beneath
the tree, which has given weight to the tradition that it
served as a mooring mast for the ship Shield that brought
early settlers to Burlington in the autumn of 1678. For
96
LIVING LANDMARKS 97
this reason it is often referred to as the Shield Tree. After
Burlington became the seat of government of West Jersey
the sycamore shaded the lawn at the home of William
Franklin, last Royal Governor of the Province, and the
son of Benjamin Franklin.
In 1765 the board of trustees of the College of New
Jersey (now Princeton University) ordered the planting
of a row of sycamores before the residence of the president
of the college. This was the year in which England passed
the Stamp Act. For this reason the Princeton sycamores
have been associated with the War of Independence, and
are often called the Stamp Act Trees. Two of the trees
still stand near the house occupied by the dean of the
faculty. They are 90 feet in height and have diameters of
3 feet.
In front of the old Baptist meeting house in Hopewell,
on land donated by John Hart, a signer of the Declaration
of Independence, stands another great sycamore. Under
its branches Colonel Jacob Houghton, a Revolutionary
patriot, rallied Jersey farmers with news of the Battle of
Lexington, ending his stirring address with the cry, "Men
of New Jersey, the redcoats are murdering our brethren
of New England! Who follows me to Boston?" Every
man, tradition states, answered, "I!" This fine old tree
now shades the quiet burying ground where Hart and
Houghton both rest.
At Shrewsbury are two sycamores of great beauty that
have been preserved for their historic importance. They
stand about 100 feet apart in an island in the center of
Shrewsbury Avenue nearly opposite Old Christ Church.
The larger and, presumably, the older of the two trees
bears a bronze plaque which reads:
98 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
THIS SYCAMORE
PLANTED BY THE EARLY COLONISTS
IN THE ROYAL PROVINCE OF NEW
JERSEY MARKED THE DELAWARE TRAIL
USED BY THE INDIANS AND LATER
BY WASHINGTON'S TROOPS ON THE
BURLINGTON PATH
BURLINGTON SYCAMORE
Memorialized by
Monmouth Chapter D.A.R.
June 28, 1935
A plaque on the other tree designates it as one of the
13 sycamores which, according to tradition, were placed
to commemorate the original 13 colonies. Though several
unmarked sycamores stand along the side of the avenue,
LIVING LANDMARKS 99
it has not been possible to establish the location of the
remainder of the traditional 13 trees.
In 1930 the board of freeholders undertook to cut down
the trees because they were a traffic hazard. The women
of the town, aroused, sent a messenger to Freehold to
get an injunction that would stop the destruction. Men
were already at work, but the women delayed them by
feeding them cakes and ice cream even passing refresh-
ments to those in the uppermost branches until word came
to stop the work. The trees are now in the care of patriotic
societies of Monmouth County.
Probably the most famous tree in New Jersey is the
Salem Oak, a 4OO-year-old veteran which stands in the
Friends' Burial Ground in Salem. For more than a century
the Society of Friends has kept faithful guard over the
tree and has carefully gathered its acorns to fill the many
requests that have come in from all parts of this country
and abroad. In 10 years $2,000 has been spent in surgery
and care.
Measurements made in 1933 gave the height as 73 feet;
circumference 5 feet from the ground, 19.5 feet; spread,
10,516 square feet. Beneath its branches John Fenwick
is supposed to have made his treaty with the Indians in
1675 when he purchased extensive lands for the Quaker
colony which he established. This treaty, made six years
previous to Penn's famous treaty, was the first made by
a white man with the Indians that was not broken.
Equaling the Salem Oak in beauty, age and size is a
great lightning-scarred white oak on farm land owned by
Daniel Gaskill, at the end of First Avenue, in Mantua,
Gloucester County. It is said that the Indians gathered
under it for their councils, a tradition strengthened by the
knowledge that they used the banks of Mantua Creek for
SALEM OAK
a rendezvous. There is no historical event associated with
this tree, nor has it enjoyed the care given the Salem Oak.
Some of its powerful branches might be trimmed of dead
wood, but the dense foliage testifies to a sound heart.
Summer and winter it is a picture of symmetry and beauty.
It has a breast high circumference of 19 feet and 9 inches
and looks like a miniature forest balanced on a single
stem.
There is a white oak on the Hartshorne estate in the
Navesink Highlands, not far from the Shrewsbury River,
which was in its second or third century when Richard
Hartshorne in 1671 bought the land from the Indians.
In 1778 a 12-mile line of British soldiers, burdened with
supplies, retreated from Monmouth Battlefield to ships
anchored off Sandy Hook. An English officer tradition
says it was Sir Henry Clinton saluted Richard Harts-
LIVING LANDMARKS IOI
home, and complimented him on his holdings in the
Highlands. Hartshorne is said to have answered firmly,
"I intend to hold them, sir." His descendants still possess
the land on which the oak stands.
In the Presbyterian Churchyard at Basking Ridge,
Somerset County, stands a white oak reputed to be 400
years old. Its great branches, extending almost 140 feet,
are strengthened by many wire cables, iron rods and braces
to help it withstand the effects of age. In its shadow the
British attacked General Charles Lee in 1776, taking him
prisoner j around its trunk, it is said, they tethered their
horses while raiding in the vicinity in 1781.
Another white oak called the "Shoe Tree," in the quiet
town of Belvidere, is revered because it recalls a homely
custom of our fathers rather than an important historical
event. Its name derives from a tradition that the early
settlers used to stop beneath it, before going across the road
to church, to put on their shoes, which they had carried in
their hands up to this point. When some years ago the
street was widened the townspeople insisted that the tree
be left standing in the center of the road, even though
it caused inconvenience to traffic. At an age of 250 or 300
years the old landmark is still in excellent condition.
These old trees sometimes live in the cities, surrounded
by tall buildings. In Military Park, Newark, there is an
Oriental plane estimated as being 175 years old, a witness
possibly of Washington's retreat from New York in 1776.
Still in excellent condition, it towers over the shrubbery
of the park, unperturbed by the hurrying traffic and the
crowded department stores which face it.
On a farm now known as "Poet's Dream," just south of
Matawan, at Freneau, there is a grove of locust trees near
the grave of Philip Freneau, the poet of the Revolution.
IO2 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
The trees were a century old when young Philip played
in their shade on his father's loo-acre farm, which was
called Mount Pleasant Hall. Later he walked under the
locusts with Eleanor Forman, who became his wife; many
of his poems were supposedly written in the grove.
Freneau's grave is marked with a monument, but the liv-
ing locusts give breath to the memorial.
A row of fine catalpas planted about 1757 on the lawn
of "Morven," home of the Stocktons in Princeton for
seven generations, recalls Richard Stockton, signer of the
Declaration of Independence. They are sometimes called
"Independence Trees," because they bear pure white blos-
soms on the Fourth of July.
Haddonfield has two yew trees said to be the oldest of
their species in America. They were brought from Eng-
land on one of her three voyages in 1712 and 1713 by
Elizabeth Haddon, founder of the town, whose romantic
life was celebrated in Longfellow's Tales of a Wayside
Inn and in Lydia Maria Child's story, The Youthful
Emigrant. Elizabeth came to this country at the age of
20 to develop land purchased by her father. She married
John Estaugh, a Quaker, and built a fine brick mansion
for their home, setting the trees before it. When the
mansion was destroyed by fire in 1842 her descendants
saved the yews by spreading wet rugs over the branches.
Yews are not native to this country and only rarely adapt
themselves to the soil and climate. Although they have
stood for two centuries, Elizabeth Haddon's yews are
now in poor condition and destined to survive only a few
years.
The Washington Walnut, shading the Washington Inn,
425 Ridge wood Road, Maplewood, is believed to have
been planted by Timothy and Esther Ball when they built
LIVING LANDMARKS 103
their home, now the inn, in 1743. According to the tablet
on the tree, when Washington visited the home during
the Revolution he tied his horse to an iron ring which the
bark has since overgrown. Although many of the branches
that shaded the road have been cut away, the old giant
still flourishes. The trunk is about 13.6 feet in circum-
ference.
On the property of Dr. Maurice Cohen, at Claremont
Avenue and Valley Road, Montclair, where the historic
Crane house once stood, is another walnut tree, surviving
from the days when Washington visited there. This tree
is of special interest to the children of the community
because of the fantastic figures of animals and gnomes
placed in its branches by Dr. Cohen.
Cedars of Lebanon are distinctly not native to this
country, but in a congenial environment are known to live
to a great age. One of these, imported about 1850 as a
sapling from Mount Olivet in the Holy Land, stands in
front of the Borough Hall in Woodlyne, Camden County.
This was the site of the house where Mark Newbie estab-
lished the first bank in New Jersey, if not in the country.
At Ringwood Manor in the northern part of Passaic
County, recently given to the State as a historical park,
are many old trees. At the Manor, during the Revolution,
Robert Erskine, ironmaster and Washington's surveyor
general, maintained a forge which supplied the army with
part of its munitions. The Commander in Chief stopped
here often while journeying between battlefields. Along-
side the house and still bearing luscious fruit is a fine pear
tree that was standing when Washington visited here. In
front of the house is a double row of trees planted by
Mrs. Martin Ryerson, wife of Erskine's successor, to
IO4 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
commemorate the Peace of Ghent following the War
of 1812.
There has been established at Washington Crossing
Park an arboretum of 1,000 native trees and 1,500 small
bushes with the combined purpose of keeping alive public
interest in one of the great moments in the Nation's
history and in the future of its forest lands.
PEOPLE
MARK NEWBIE, AMERICA'S FIRST BANKER
In 1682 Mark Newbie opened and operated the first
bank in North America. In a room of his simple home
near Camden, New Jersey, this Quaker ex-tallow chandler
from London set up his new institution with a capital of
300 acres of land and a currency consisting of copper coins
which today are valuable only to collectors.
Newbie, to escape the persecution of the Quakers under
Charles II, had sold his prosperous London business in
1677 and joined a group of sympathizers who had gath-
ered in Dublin, Ireland, while they completed plans to
migrate to the colonies. They were awaiting reports from
Robert Zane, one of their group, who had been sent over
to join the colony of English Quakers established by John
Fenwick. In 1675 Fenwick had made a treaty with the
Indians for a great tract of country around Salem.
As the news of conditions in the distant colonies reached
him, Newbie realized that his old trade would be of little
help to him as a means of livelihood in the wilderness.
He was a shrewd, farseeing man, however, and before
long hit upon a scheme which he thought might prove
profitable.
During the three years spent in Ireland he had taken
note of the circulation of some copper coins known as
Patrick's pence. These had been issued as a reminder of
the terrific slaughter of Protestants by Catholics during
the retaliatory religious massacres in the reign of Charles I.
The coins were named for the figure of St. Patrick which
107
FARTHING
PATRICK'S PENCE OR MARK NEWBIE COPPERS
appeared on the reverse. The figure of Charles I in the
character of King David was on the face. The original
coins made of silver were used as legal tender, but copper
replicas in two sizes, though not legal, were accepted by
some people as halfpence and farthings at a discount. It
occurred to Newbie that these coins might be useful in
the settlements across the sea where civilization was
loosely organized and trade was without regulation. He
invested a part of his savings in all the Patrick's pence
he could obtain.
In the spring of 1682 a small vessel sailed up the Dela-
HALF PENNY
MARK NEWBIE, AMERICANS FIRST BANKER
ware River, entered Newton Creek and deposited Mark
Newbie together with a group of 25 men and women near
the site of what is now Collingswood, New Jersey. With
Newbie came his coin collection.
There was at this time no authorized currency in the
colony. The rate of exchange for the moneys of Spain,
France, Portugal, Holland and England was based on
the Spanish dollar. Trade was carried on by barter or with
wampum, Spanish doubloons, pistoles and dollars, French
guineas, Portuguese johanesses, Dutch ducats and stivers,
English guineas, crowns and shillings, or with whatever
currency fell into the hands of the colonists. There was
no organized system of banking. The larger local mer-
chants with English connections usually acted as bankers
for the smaller businessmen. Thus custom prevailed until
1781, when Robert Morris formed the Bank of North
America in Philadelphia.
In May 1682 Newbie was chosen as a member of the
General Assembly meeting at Burlington. He was ap-
pointed to the Governor's council, and became one of the
commissioners for the division of land and a member of
the committee of ways and means to raise money for the
government.
Meanwhile the little hoard of Patrick's pence was jin-
gling in his pockets, and thrifty Mark Newbie decided
that the time had come to put them to work. He suggested
to the Assembly that the souvenir copper coins could be
put into circulation for use in small transactions. He agreed
to provide security by placing 300 acres of his land in the
hands of a commission so that the money could be re-
deemed on demand. The land was signed over to two
commissioners, and Newbie hung on the wall of a room
IIO STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
in his log house his charter as a banker, dated May 18,
1682, reading:
For the convenient payment of small sums, be it
enacted that Mark Newbie's half-pence, from and
after the Eighteenth instant, pass for half-pence cur-
rent pay of the province, provided he, the said Mark
Newbie, his executors and administrators shall and
will exchange the said half-pence for pay equivalent
on demand j and provided also that no person or per-
sons hereby be obliged to take more than five shillings
in any one payment.
This was the first legal issue of currency in the colonies,
and Newbie became in effect the first American banker.
The bank proved popular from its beginning, for the
settlers found it convenient to use the coins from Ireland.
Although the charter specified that no more than five
shillings need be accepted in one transaction, trade among
the colonists was stimulated to no small extent. Gradually
the use of the coins became general $ some of them
reached as far as Salem.
Newbie became known as a prudent administrator dur-
ing the few months he lived after founding his institution.
He was careful that the amount of coins in circulation was
kept within a reasonable figure, mindful that his charter
did not grant him permission to issue or mint new money,
to enlarge his own credit or to keep up circulation. The
coins were employed only in those business dealings that
could not be conveniently handled by barter.
When Mark Newbie died suddenly in 1683 his widow
Hannah, executrix of his will, ordered the bank closed.
The coins were called in before the estate was settled on
July 4, 1684. A discrepancy of about 30 was disscovered
MARK NEWBIE, AMERICANS FIRST BANKER I I I
in the funds of the bank, probably caused by the inability
of the founder to perfect his plans. Mrs. Newbie paid the
shortage out of her husband's personal estate, and the
commissioners released the land held as security.
Several of Mark Newbie's coins were never redeemed
and for a time continued to circulate. Gradually they dis-
appeared from ordinary channels and now are to be found
only among the rare coins of collectors. Sometimes called
Mark Newbie coppers, Patrick's pence bring $2.50 for a
halfpenny piece in good condition j $5 if in excellent con-
dition. The farthing brings $2 and $3.50.
THE SWEDISH SETTLERS
Marshes and woodlands along the shores were showing
the first faint coloring of spring as two small vessels came
to anchor in the lower reaches of the Delaware River.
From their mastheads flew proudly the royal cross of
Sweden, and from their decks crews and passengers alike
were anxiously scanning the shore line for a trace of
Indians or ferocious beasts. Many a fabulous tale of this
new world had they heard by their firesides during the
cold and stormy winters along the Swedish coast
tales of the uncivilized inhabitants, of their clothes
made from the skins of animals, of their strange cus-
toms, of their reverence for white men and of great
wealth that might be amassed in trade with the childlike
savages.
It was in the spring of 1638. Only 18 years earlier the
Pilgrims had landed at Plymouth Rock. The Swedish
Mayflower, the Kalmar Nyckel (Key of Kalmar), with
her companion tender, the Fogel Grip (Bird Griffon),
sailed up the Delaware River in charge of Peter Minuit,
the famous Hollander who had governed the colony
of New Netherland on the Hudson for the Dutch West
India Company. Now, in the service of the Crown of
Sweden, he was bringing traders and soldiers to establish
a settlement.
The little company sailed into Minquas Kill, now Chris-
tina, Creek, and landed on "The Rocks" near where Wil-
mington, Delaware, now stands. There, under the guard-
112
THE FOUNDING OF NEW SWEDEN
Peter Minuit and the First Swedish Settlers Are Bid
Welcome by the Indians
(Painting in the American Swedish Historical Museum, Philadelphia, Pa.)
ing cannon of their vessels, they set up their first settle-
ment, called it Fort Christina, in honor of the young
Queen of their home country, and surrounded it by a
palisade against any surprise visits by an Indian war party.
But the only Indians who appeared were merely curious
to discover what these strange men wanted. On March 28,
1638, five sachems appointed by the assembled tribes
sold as much "of the land on all parts and places of the
river and on both sides as Minuit requested." Minuit had
been ordered by the Swedish Crown to be fair in all his
dealings with the Indians; and so, for what they consid-
ered value received, the natives transferred all the land
114 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
extending along the creek, as far north as the Schuylkill
River and stretching westward indefinitely.
When Minuit set out for the Delaware in 1637 Sweden
had become one of the most powerful nations of Europe.
Her rulers had forged all the Baltic countries Sweden,
Finland, Estonia and Latvia (at that time called Inger-
manland, Estland, Li viand and Kurland) into one Scan-
dinavian union. During the sixteenth century the kings of
the House of Vasa had rebuilt the whole nation from its
very foundations. Copper and iron mined in the rocky
interior was carried to foreign lands to exchange for gold,
silver, silks, spices and valuable furs, but the supplies at
home grew faster than they could be carried away to be
exchanged or sold. Storehouses began to bulge with re-
serve stocks of refined ore. Surpluses were stored in
friendly foreign countries. Sweden was powerful among
the nations of the world, and rich in materials, but her
supply of ready cash was deplorably low.
Spain and Portugal had increased their national wealth
by subjecting Mexico and the South American continent
to their rule. Their galleons brought gold and silver back
to the mother countries. England had explored the coast
of North America and had settled Jamestown, Virginia,
in 1607, and Plymouth in 1620. The Dutch had built
Fort Nassau on the Delaware in 1623, near Gloucester
city.
King Gustavus Adolphus was anxious that Sweden
should obtain a share of the New World's riches, and
between 1626 and 1632 he permitted the establishment
of three trading companies for this purpose. Subscriptions
of funds were slow, however, and when the King was
slain at the Battle of Liitzen in 1632, the plan appeared
doomed. Fortunately Axel Oxenstierna, the regent for
THE SWEDISH SETTLERS 115
the new ruler, six-year-old Queen Christina, was a man
of prudence and vision. One of his main efforts was to
revive the colonization plans of his royal master.
He spoke to Samuel Blommaert, a Dutch financier,
about organizing a trading expedition. Blommaert was one
of the directors of the Dutch West India Company, for
which Peter Minuit in 1625 had purchased the Island of
Manhattan from its Indian owners for the equivalent of
twenty-four dollars. After six years' service as director-
general and acting governor of New Netherland, Minuit
was suddenly recalled to Holland and summarily dis-
missed from the service of the company. Blommaert
himself had been one of the "patroons" of an attempted
Dutch settlement near Cape May in 1630. He had the
highest regard for Minuit's courage, self-reliance and ad-
ministrative ability, and recommended him to Oxenstierna
as the leader of the proposed expedition.
Plans for the organization of the company were com-
pleted in 1636. Funds were widely subscribed for the
New Sweden Company, and Minuit, who had been called
to Sweden in the meantime, personally supplied one-
eighth of the total capital of 24,000 guilders. Two vessels
were purchased, and on November 20, 1637, they set sail
from the new port of Gothenburg.
The dauntless Dutchman who led the Swedish pioneer
immigrants was not to live, however, to see the success
of his ventures. In June 1638 re departed from the new
colony on board the Kalmar Nyckel for the West Indies,
to exchange part of his cargo for tobacco. At St. Chris-
topher a Dutch merchantman, the Flying Stag of Rotter-
dam, was lying in the harbor, and her captain invited the
famous explorer on board. Suddenly one of the dreaded
West Indian hurricanes blew up, and the Stag was blown
I I 6 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
out to sea, never to be heard from again. The Kalmar
Nyckel had to return to Europe without her commander.
Peter Minuit's death left a vacancy hard to fill, and it
was several months before the New Sweden Company
could agree on a successor. Peter Hollander Ridder
finally was chosen as the second governor of New Sweden
and commander of Fort Christina.
Under his leadership a second group of colonists set
sail on board the Kalmar Nyckel in September 1639.
Among Ridder's company was the Reverend Reorus
Torkillus, who was to act as spiritual adviser to the people
of New Sweden. He was the first minister of the Lutheran
faith to serve in America. In addition to the handful of
passengers there were also on board the little sloop "four
mares and two young horses and a number of farm imple-
ments ... so that the colonists can make a trial with
seeding in the Autumn."
This was an indication that the attitude of the crown
and of the proprietors of the New Sweden Company had
changed. No longer did they dream of sudden riches to
be amassed by one or two lucky trading ventures. They
began to understand that, if wealth was to come from
America, it would come only through the gradual de-
velopment of the Delaware settlements. New Sweden was
to become a crown colony in fact as well as in name.
Ridder's administration was notable chiefly for expan-
sion. The lands which he purchased from the Indians in
the spring of 1641 for the first time extended the territory
of New Sweden across the Delaware into New Jersey.
Stretching from Raccoon Creek south along the coast to
Cape May, it was by far the largest tract yet added to
New Sweden. Compared with Minuit's small strips along
GOVERNOR JOHAN PRINTZ OF NEW SWEDEN
I I 8 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
the west bank, the New Jersey purchase was the start of
real Swedish dominion in America.
In 1 643 Ridder was succeeded by Johan Printz, a huge
man, weighing close to 400 pounds, whom the Indians
humorously dubbed "Big Belly." Known as an excellent
soldier in Sweden, he proceeded to rule the colony in mili-
tary fashion. Almost immediately he gave orders for the
erection of a new fort on the Jersey shore. His trained
eye had discovered the site from which Swedish cannon
might command the river. He chose a point of land that
stretches into the Delaware, south of the modern cities
of Newcastle and Wilmington. The site is at Elsinboro,
near the present city of Salem, New Jersey, and it is said
that foundation pilings may still be seen at low water.
The fort was called Elfsborg after a Swedish stronghold.
But to the soldiers it was known as "Fort Myggenborg,"
meaning "Mosquito Fort," because of the mosquitos and
gnats which made life at the garrison a torment.
Another fortification, Fort Gothenburg, was raised on
Tinicum Island, opposite Gibbstown in Gloucester County.
Here the new governor built Printzhof, his official resi-
dence. The choice of the island for the colony's capital was
particularly wise. For not merely was Tinicum centrally
located, but from there Printz could also keep constant
vigil on the Dutch at Fort Nassau. This old stronghold,
a short distance to the north of Tinicum Island, near the
mouth of Timber Creek, had been revived by the Dutch
since Printz's arrival in the New World.
Under the personal supervision of the governor the
primitive dugouts and sod huts that had given temporary
shelter to the first group of Swedish settlers developed
into substantial log cabins. These homes, reminiscent of
the cabins the settlers had left behind them in the deep
THE SWEDISH SETTLERS IIQ
forests of Sweden and Finland, were the origin of the
American log cabin, that structure that later was to
become the distinctive mark of the frontier.
The life of the colonists was far from being as primitive
as later day accounts picture pioneer existence. The deep
forest of South Jersey yielded an abundance of venison,
even an occasional bear. Wild ducks, geese and turkeys
were plentiful. Fish, oysters and clams could be taken
from the streams. In the woods was a profusion of wild
fruits, berries, edible roots and herbs. The settlers grew
garden vegetables, including peas, beans, squash, potatoes
and turnips. The fields yielded a good grain crop.
The furniture of their tight little cabins was hand-hewn
from logs. A smooth-sawed slab on four legs may have
served as a table, smaller ones for chairs and stools. Beds
were pallet like shelves built against the walls. A layer
of straw, covered with a deer skin or bear skin, supplied a
mattress, and bedclothes were more skins.
Wood also was the raw material for most household
utensils. The clever hands of these early woodsmen shaped
plates from smooth strips of bark; spoons and forks from
the limbs of trees j cups and bowls from wooden blocks,
and even the bread pans were hollowed with fire and adze
out of a section of a tree trunk. An axe, a knife, a saw,
several iron or copper kettles and his musket were usually
the only tools for which a pioneer depended on the mother
country. The rest he fashioned for himself.
Trade with the Indians continued. Although Printz had
a personal aversion to the "savages," he was much too
shrewd to forget the steady demands of the New Sweden
Company for valuable pelts and furs. And the Indian
trappers and hunters were the ones to supply that demand,
I2O STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
at least as long as trade goods in Printz's warehouses held
out.
Throughout his administration the governor had con-
sistently sought new colonists to strengthen his lands
against the threatening Dutch from New Netherland.
Although Printz had gained control of the river by his
strategic arrangement of forts, he could not cope with the
superior force of the Dutch governor. Peter Stuyvesant.
In 1651 he was forced to abandon Fort Elfsborg, which
had been New Sweden's pride and protection. There fol-
lowed two long years of waiting vainly for help from
home, and then in 1653, disappointed and defeated, Printz
returned home.
With the arrival of a new governor, Johan Rising,
hopes for the strengthening of New Sweden improved.
Unfortunately he antagonized the Dutch by an unneces-
sary conquest of their fortress opposite Fort Elfsborg, and
Stuyvesant proceeded to eliminate the troublesome Swedes
once and for all. In September 1655 he appeared with a
formidable force in the Delaware Valley and demanded
complete surrender of New Sweden. Outnumbered, Rising
agreed on the condition that the Swedish settlers might
be left in full possession of their lands. Stuyvesant assented,
and New Sweden became a part of New Netherland.
Not long after the passing of New Sweden, the Swedes,
who since 1638 had been concentrated on the Pennsylvania
and Delaware shores of the Delaware River, began to
migrate eastward into New Jersey. They sailed up the
creeks that empty into the Delaware to find new homes
and better farm lands than those on the west bank.
Throughout the century following the fall of New
Sweden, the migration was so steady that ultimately New
THE SWEDISH SETTLERS 121
Jersey became the center of Swedish activity in North
America.
By 1685 Swedes had established themselves all over
present-day Camden, Gloucester and Salem Counties. They
were living as far north as Pensauken Creek and as far
south as Salem Creek. They founded centers such as Cin-
naminson, Repaupo and Penns Neck, which were not vil-
lages in the modern sense, but central gathering spots for
settlers over a wide area.
The most famous gathering spot was Raccoon, on the
creek of that name. In 1702 the Kings Highway, running
from Salem to Burlington, reached the small settlement
and transformed it into an important town. The road was
also the instrument by which the Swedes were to be joined
into a closely knit social and religious community.
With travel thus made easier, the scattered Swedes
began to think seriously of erecting a church of their own
on the New Jersey side of the Delaware. Since their
arrival in the New World steadfastness to their Swedish
Lutheran faith had been one of their major character-
istics, and since the fall of New Sweden it had been their
sole tie with the mother country of their forefathers.
Up to the beginning of the eighteenth century, the New
Jersey Swedes were obliged to cross the river to attend
the Lutheran churches at Wilmington or Wicacoa (Phila-
delphia). It was a long journey to these churches from
the outlying districts of New Jersey. It necessitated spend-
ing time that should have been applied to work on the
land. The faithful had to walk and ride along trails and
paths newly blazed through the woods. At the river's edge
there awaited them the crude, open flatboats that would
ferry them across, bucking the wild freshets of spring and
fall and dangerous ice floes in wintertime.
122 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
All these hardships made the simple enterprise of going
to church a dangerous adventure. Only on Christmas,
Easter and Pentecost, the three high holidays of the
Lutheran faith, and on the occasion of his own wedding,
might a frontier farmer leave his homestead for the sev-
eral days or even the week required for the toilsome
journey. The occasional tours of traveling parsons supple-
mented the visits to church.
Discontent, ever on the increase, was finally fanned into
open flames by Lars Tollstadius, an ambitious young
preacher. He eventually led a secession of the New Jersey
Swedish Lutherans from the Wicacoa parish and brought
about the establishment of the Raccoon Church, the first
and most famous of all Swedish Lutheran edifices in New
Jersey. Although the ecclesiastical authorities in Sweden
and America disapproved of Tollstadius, he ignored their
objections and easily persuaded the New Jersey Swedes
to erect their own church. Early in the fall of 1703 he
preached his first sermon in a little log church which stood
within a few feet of the site of the present Trinity Epis-
copal Church in Swedesboro, as Raccoon is now known.
Tollstadius died suddenly in 1706, either by suicide or
by accident, but the religious independence of the New
Jersey Swedes had been firmly established. His success
led to the formation of another parish below Raccoon at
Penns Neck, which was formally dedicated in 1717.
Thereafter, with the exception of two years, a single pas-
tor, sent from Sweden, officiated for both parishes.
Although the Swedes had hoped that the establishment
of their own churches would help to preserve Swedish
customs and language, they fought a losing battle against
superior forces. Southern New Jersey was a melting pot
including, besides the Swedes, English, Dutch, Scotch-Irish
SWEDISH STAMPS ISSUED FOR THE CELEBRATION
and German settlers, all of whom intermarried with the
Swedes. By 1750, when the great Swedish-Finnish natu-
ralist, Peter Kalm, visited New Jersey, he found Repaupo
the only settlement still Swedish in character. In dress,
language and social habits the Swedes were rapidly becom-
ing assimilated with the other nationalities, especially the
dominant English. A little more than a decade later,
Swedish pastors began to keep their church records in
English, and it became less and less necessory for them
to preach in Swedish as well as in English, for fewer and
fewer people understood the language.
When the Revolutionary War broke out, the Swedes
for the most part took arms against England and played
an important part in southern New Jersey's military cam-
paigns. After the war they quickly came to look upon
themselves as Americans, an attitude which contributed
to the final effacement of the Swedish Lutheran Church.
In 1786 the tie with the mother church in Sweden had
become so weak that the New Jersey Swedes finally sev-
ered it completely by joining the Episcopal Church. Only
124 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
two years before they had erected in Swedesboro a new
church building which still stands.
This building was one of the centers of the New Jersey
celebration in 1938 of the three hundredth anniversary of
the landing of the Swedes in America. The church re-
ceived a Bible from King Gustaf V of Sweden and con-
ducted a special service attended by Prince Bertil, official
representative of the Swedish government to the cele-
bration.
THE TEA BURNERS OF GREENWICH
When the word "tea" is mentioned as a cause of the
Revolutionary War most people picture howling redskins
throwing cases of tea into Boston Harbor. Few know that
New Jersey had its own tea party one that was as color-
ful and as violent. The New Jersey patriots used fire
instead of water, but the destruction was as complete. The
incident occurred in the southern part of the State in the
town of Greenwich, a peaceful, law-abiding community
whose citizens were about equally divided in their loyal-
ties: half Whig, half Tory. Many of the Whigs were
younger persons who bitterly opposed England's treat-
ment of the Colonies.
On that exciting night in December 1774 the inhabi-
tants of the little town of Greenwich were awakened by
a racket. People were running toward the market place,
where a huge bonfire was burning. Around the high-leap-
ing flames a band of 40 Indians, grimly silent, were open-
ing large packages which they brought from the cellar of
a house on the square. As each package was opened its
contents were fed to the fire.
Many a Greenwich housewife sniffed the air regret-
fully as she recognized the fragrance of burning tea leaves.
So this was another tea party j like the one in Boston a
year ago! There were people in the group watching the
destruction who deeply disapproved the rash act, while
others looked on admiringly; but whatever the sentiments
of the spectators, no one offered to halt the work of the
125
126 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
young men who had disguised themselves as Indians in
order to intimidate any Tories who might attempt to
resist them.
This tea business was being taken seriously by the colo-
nists. They enjoyed the comfort of a cup of tea as much
as ever j but rather than submit to a tax imposed without
fair representation, many refused to drink tea. All sorts
of substitutes were used, raspberry and blackberry leaves,
goldenrod, dittany and various other native plants and
herbs. There is a story told of Hugh Drum of Somerset
County who was so thoroughly in earnest that he vowed
that as long as he lived he would never touch a drop of
tea. Having made the vow he stuck to it even after the
Revolution when the Americans were importing their own
tea.
Early in December the Greyhound, loaded with tea for
Philadelphia, had sailed up the Delaware River. At the
mouth of Cohansey Creek the captain unexpectedly gave
the order to come about, and the vessel headed up the
stream to Greenwich. The skipper had decided that Green-
wich was a safer place to unload his cargo than Philadel-
phia. In Greenwich he knew of a Tory named Dan Bowen
who would be pretty sure to permit the storing of the tea
in his cellar. Things had come to such a pass that English
ships were afraid to put in at big ports, and any captain
who succeeded in landing a shipload of tea on American
soil felt proud of himself.
As the crew of the Greyhound unloaded the cargo,
groups of angry citizens muttered disapproval j but the
crew worked on until the last package had been carried
across the square and deposited in Dan Bowen's cellar.
The captain then set sail down the creek, hardly guessing
THE TEA BURNERS OF GREENWICH 127
that this tea would provide fuel for a blaze that would
ultimately light two continents.
The skipper had figured that, once the tea was stored in
Greenwich, the consignees in Philadelphia would find a
means of getting it across the land and selling it. But a
meeting had already been arranged at Bridgeton to dis-
cuss the problem of British imports. The townspeople of
Greenwich decided to refer the tea question to this meet-
ing. When, at the end of the first day, no action had been
taken, some of the younger men decided to take matters
into their own hands.
On the night of December 22 a group of young Revolu-
tionists met at the home of the Howells in Bridgeton.
From there they marched through the towns of Bridge-
ton, Fairfield, Shiloh and Roadstown, increasing in de-
termination and numbers as they drew closer to Green-
wich. Arrived at the square they stormed the cellar where
the tea was stored and carried out package after package.
Soon the crackling flames and fragrant smoke aroused the
townspeople.
There was one humorous incident at the party. One of
the tea burners, named Stacks, could see no harm in acquir-
ing for himself a little of the precious cargo. As the
"Indians" danced around the blaze, he snatched handfuls
from the broken cases and stuffed them into his trouser
legs. Before long his expanding breeches were detected.
* From then to the end of his days, which he spent in com-
parative prosperity in Dutch Neck, he was known as "Tea
Stacks."
This Greenwich tea party created a great stir in the sec-
tion. The Tories called it wanton destruction, and insisted
that the "hoodlums," as they called them, should be pun-
TEA BURNER MONUMENT, GREENWICH
ished. There was no difficulty in finding the guilty ones,
because they boasted about their work.
Encouraged by the sympathetic attitude of the Tories,
the English shippers finally did start a court action. But
the Whig element was so strong that it was impossible to
find a jury that would bring in a verdict of guilty. Before
the case could be reopened the Revolution was in full
swing, and far more important things were taking place.
In 1908 the State of New Jersey built a monument in
the Market Square in Greenwich to commemorate the
event. The names of 23 men preserved in historical rec-
ords as among the "Indians" are inscribed on the stone
shaft.
NEW JERSEY'S DELEGATES TO
THE FEDERAL CONSTITUTIONAL
CONVENTION OF 1787
May 14, 1787 a convention made up of representa-
tives from twelve of the thirteen States assembled in the
State House at Philadelphia "for the sole and express
purpose of revising the Articles of Confederation." Rhode
Island alone did not participate in the Convention. At the
end of 1 6 weeks of work and spirited debate September
17, 1787 this group of 55 men had written a new law
of the land: the Federal Constitution. A year and a half
later the law went into effect, and today, with the addition
of 21 amendments, it still functions.
The various State legislatures picked delegates with
care; they sent men with experience in colonial and state
government, Congressmen and lawyers. Most of the mem-
bers were large landowners. This has led to the accusa-
tion that they drew up a document which would work to
the benefit of the propertied classes. An opposing belief
is that these men were genuine idealists, motivated en-
tirely by interests of the general welfare. Despite the
difference of opinion, one thing is certain: they were an
unusual group of men possessed of high intellect and com-
mon sense.
The State of New Jersey was represented by its wartime
Governor, William Livingston j a former Attorney Gen-
eral, William Paterson; a Chief Justice of the State Su-
preme Court, David Brearley; a Princeton professor,
129
I3O STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
William Churchill Houston , and a Revolutionary Army
paymaster, Jonathan Dayton.
Houston became ill during the Convention and was
unable to remain. Two others named as delegates were
unable to serve. They were Abraham Clark of Rahway,
surveyor and signer of the Declaration of Independence,
and John Neilson, merchant of New Brunswick, who had
commanded a regiment of New Jersey militia in the war.
William Livingston (1723-1790)
Livingston, the senior delegate, was t{ien 64 years old
and Governor of New Jersey. He had been a member of
the Continental Congress, gaining the hatred of Tories
and the British for his services to the Colonies. As chan-
cellor or chief judge of the high court, an office held by
the governor, he supported measures confiscating the prop-
erty of those New Jersey residents who remained loyal
to the King. To escape soldiers of the Crown, he had been
compelled several times to flee from his home near Eliza-
beth to the hills of the interior.
There is a story told of one raid on Governor Living-
ston's house, in which the quick wit and charm of his
daughter Susan averted a serious situation. The British
were about to search a secretary containing important
papers. Susan promised to show them where secret docu-
ments were hidden if they would leave the desk un-
touched, implying that it held some very private papers
of hers. The redcoats agreed to the bargain and were
hoodwinked into accepting a sheaf of old law briefs.
Born at Albany in 1723 of a prominent New York
family, Livingston was graduated from Yale and was
admitted to the bar in 1748. While practicing law in New
York City he joined a group opposing the existing Church
BENNETT HOUSE AT PARSIPPANY, THE HAVEN OF Gov.
LIVINGSTON DURING THE REVOLUTION, AS IT LOOKS
TODAY
of England theocracy and British domination. He was
editor of the Independent Reflector, established by James
Parker at Woodbridge, New Jersey, in 1752. The printer
refused to handle the publication after 52 issues, fearing
British officials. Livingston then edited the Watch Tower
column in the New York Mercury, frequently writing
under such pseudonyms as Z.B.X., Z.Z. and B.X.A. At
that time, according to one authority, the Province of
New York had fewer than a score of college graduates,
among whom were Livingston and his three elder
brothers.
In 1772, asking to be delivered, as he had put it,
From ladies, lap-dogs, courtiers, garters, stars,
Fops, fiddlers, tyrants, emperors, and czars,
132 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
he built on his land in Elizabeth, Liberty Hall, so named
for political reasons. Several years previously he had
bought about 120 acres to devote to his hobby of fruit
growing. He had developed 65 varieties of pears, plums,
cherries, peaches and apples.
Livingston's daughters, the three "Livingston Graces,"
the best known of his 13 children, soon made the place
a resort for the very class he had shunned. In 1774 the
house was the scene of the wedding of Sally Livingston
to John Jay, already one of the prominent men of the
Colonies. Alexander Hamilton was a guest at Liberty
Hall during his student days in the academy at Elizabeth,
where he was a fellow student of Aaron Burr Jr.
In Parsippany on Parsippany Road is the Bennett house,
a private home, where Governor Livingston lived while
avoiding the enemy at Elizabeth. The rear of the house,
moved across the road, now forms half of another
building.
At the end of the war the Governor returned from his
retreat at Parsippany to Liberty Hall, although complain-
ing that Elizabeth was full of "unrecommended strangers,
guilty-looking Tories, and very knavish Whigs." He had
acquired two nicknames: Rivington's Royal Gazette had
called him "Don Quixote of the Jerseys," while his promi-
nent thinness and height had long ago inspired a New
York belle to dub him "The Whipping Post."
Governor Livingston was once described as a man whose
brilliance of wit exceeded the strength of his thinking.
Under his pen name "Hortensius" Livingston wrote a
humorous complaint against the sufferings of the Revolu-
tionary soldiers during the winter cold. As a remedy, he
proposed that attention be directed to Bergen County,
because "the rural ladies in that part of our State pride
DELEGATES TO CONVENTION OF 1787 133
themselves in an incredible number of petticoats, which,
like house furniture, are displayed by way of ostentation."
He urged that these undergarments be remade into cloth-
ing which would protect the soldiers from the inclemencies
of the weather. To prove his suggestion wasn't unfair to
the ladies, he argued that "the women in that country hav-
ing, for above a century, worn the breeches it is highly
reasonable that the men should now . . . make booty
of the petticoats."
Jonathan Dayton (1760-1824)
Jonathan Dayton, the youngest member of the Conven-
tion, was only 27 years old when he helped to frame the
Constitution. He was born in Elizabeth and joined the
Continental Army immediately after his graduation from
Princeton at the age of 16. Dayton served throughout the
Revolution, advancing to the position of paymaster and
colonel.
Jonathan's father, Brigadier General Elias Dayton, was
originally named a delegate, but resigned in favor of his
son. During the debates at the Convention Dayton was a
prominent speaker, once pleading for the establishment of
a regular standing army.
Between 1790 and 1799 Dayton was a member of Con-
gress, serving as Speaker the last four years. In 1799 he
began his single term as Senator from New Jersey. At a
time when war with France was imminent, President John
Adams commissioned him a brigadier general.
One commentator called him a man of "talents with
ambition to exert them." Dayton held the opinion that
those men in the government who had knowledge of im-
pending changes in the Federal economy were justified in
134 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
taking advantage of their information in making specu-
lations.
He had a number of irons in the financial fire during
Hamilton's incumbency as Secretary of the Treasury. He
gambled in land and Federal currency, supporting Hamil-
ton during the Secretary's application of his highly un-
popular policies of taxation which led to the Whiskey
Rebellion. Dayton, Ohio, the scene of one of his activities
in partnership with Aaron Burr, was named for this New
Jersey delegate.
Association with Burr resulted in Dayton's indictment
for high treason in 1807. Although he was exonerated,
the repercussions from the affair ended his political activ-
ity on a national scale.
Up to the end, Dayton retained Colonial dress and man-
ners, and was known as the "last of the cocked hats." For
his residence he bought Boxwood Hall in Elizabeth from
Elias Boudinot, president of the Continental Congress and
signer of the peace treaty with Great Britain. In 1824
Dayton entertained Lafayette at Boxwood Hall. His death
a few days later was ascribed to exhaustion following the
festivities.
Boxwood Hall, at 1073 East Jersey Street, Elizabeth,
is today a home for aged women.
David Brearley (1745-7790)
David Brearley was one of the chief spokesmen for the
small states. It was he who made the first speech pro-
posing equal state representation. This proposal became a
part of what later was known as the New Jersey Plan.
In order to avoid the threatened domination by the
larger states, Brearley suggested, in addition, that the
existing state boundaries be erased and the country divided
DAVID BREARLY'S CAMP DESK
up into thirteen equal parts. Brearley, a conscientious
member of the Convention, wrote letters to Dayton and
Paterson, urging them to attend more regularly.
The Brearley family homestead, Spring Grove, still
stands in the Prince Road, five miles from Trenton. When
Brearley built an addition to the house, he put a lock, a
memento of his service with the Revolutionary forces in
Canada, on the front door.
Before his admission to the bar in 1767, Brearley had
been a law student in the Newark offices of Elias and
Elisha Boudinot. He became surrogate of Hunterdon
County in 1771, and so outspoken was his opposition to
British rule in the Colonies that he was arrested on a Tory
charge of high treason four years later. Neighbors and
friends rescued him, and he immediately obtained a com-
mission as captain in the Second New Jersey Regiment of
Ij STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
the Continental Line, later being promoted to lieutenant
colonel.
Brearley served as a committee member of the Conti-
nental Congress that drafted the Articles of Confedera-
tion. He was forced to remain away from his Trenton
home much of the time, because the British had put a
price on his head.
In 1779 he was serving with the First New Jersey
Regiment against the Indians when he was appointed
Chief Justice of the New Jersey Supreme Court. While
in office, his opinion that the courts had the right to decide
the constitutionality of laws already passed by legislative
bodies established the precedent later maintained by John
Marshall, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the
United States.
As a member appointed by Congress to the committee,
Brearley helped determine and qualify the duties and
powers of the President. He presided over the State Con-
vention which ratified the Constitution.
David Brearley was Grand Master of the Masonic
Order in New Jersey, and two lodges were named in his
honor. He was a charter member of the Federalist Asso-
ciation, the Society of the Cincinnati, and was one of the
organizers of the Trenton Academy.
Congress appointed him one of the commissioners to
decide the land dispute between Pennsylvania and Con-
necticut. The ruling in favor of Pennsylvania became
known as the "Trenton Decision."
In 1789, a year before his death, Brearley resigned as
Chief Justice of the State and took office as the first Judge
of the United States District Court for the district of New
Jersey. His grave is in St. Michael's Episcopal Graveyard,
at Warren and Ferry Streets, Trenton.
DELEGATES TO CONVENTION OF 1787 137
William Churchill Houston (1745-1788)
William Churchill Houston was born in North
Carolina. Three years after his graduation from Prince-
ton at the age of 22, Houston became professor of mathe-
matics and natural philosophy. During the Revolution he
was a captain of the Somerset County Militia and a mem-
ber of the Continental Congress and the New Jersey
Council of Safety.
Houston was admitted to the bar in 1781, became Clerk
of the Supreme Court of New Jersey and receiver of
Continental taxes from 1782 to 1785.
In Trenton he practiced law and was agent for the sale
of some Hunterdon County lands of the Bainbridge fam-
ily. Houston was a member of Congress for five terms.
During his second term he became interested in John
Fitch's plan to build a steamboat. It was probably because
of him that the delegates to the Constitutional Convention
saw a successful trial of Fitch's craft.
With David Brearley, Houston was a member of the
committee that issued the famous "Trenton Decision."
Although he had been very active in the preliminary pro-
ceedings, Houston attended the Convention only a short
time. He fought against the proposal that a President
be ineligible for a second term. Ill health, probably tuber-
culosis, caused him to leave the Convention before signing
the Constitution. He started to travel south, but died on
the way in 1788.
William Pater son (1745-1806)
Because of William Paterson's abilities as an orator, he
is generally credited with sponsoring the New Jersey
13^ STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
Plan, although David Brearley first offered the proposal
on which it was based.
Paterson, born in Antrim, Ireland, was brought to
Delaware in 1747 when he was two years old. Profitable
real estate deals in Somerville enabled his father to send
him to Princeton, from which he was graduated in 1763.
He read law with Richard Stockton, a New Jersey signer
of the Declaration of Independence, received an M.A.
from Princeton in 1766, and helped found the Well
Meaning Society, revived in 1769 and still functioning
at Princeton .as the Cliosophic Society.
William Paterson was secretary of the Provincial Con-
gress in 1776. On July 16 of that year the Congress
ordered township committees to prepare for hostilities by
collecting all the "leaden weights from windows and
clocks." Through the war years Paterson served as Attor-
ney General of New Jersey, supporting Governor Liv-
ingston in his fight to rid the State of Tories, the enemy
at home.
At the Constitutional Convention Paterson emphasized
that the delegates were obliged honestly to represent the
citizens who had vested them with power. He expressed
his political philosophy:
Our object is not such a government as may be best
in itself, but such a one as our constituents have au-
thorized us to prepare, and as they will approve. . . .
Paterson advanced a number of proposals that were em-
bodied in the finished document j his struggle for State
rather than proportional representation led to the com-
promise of the establishment of two houses of Congress.
After the death of Livingston, Paterson became Gov-
ernor and the leader of the Federalist Party in New
DELEGATES TO CONVENTION OF 1787 139
Jersey. Hamilton, the national head of the Federalists,
organized the Society for Establishing Useful Manufac-
tures in an effort to make the United States economically
as well as politically independent of England. The inten-
tion of the Society was to found at the Great Falls of the
Passaic a city which would be the industrial capital of the
country. Paterson granted the charter, and the city was
named in his honor.
In 1793 Paterson was appointed Associate Justice of
the United States Supreme Court, and continued in office
until his death in 1805. During his 13 years' service he
democratized and facilitated court practices, and he estab-
lished the policy of legal aid to the poor by free process
and assignment of counsel.
He died in Albany at the home of his son-in-law and
was buried there.
The New Jersey Plan
The New Jersey delegates came to the Convention of
1787, as Paterson declared, with instructions to demand
equality for the Thirteen States in their votes in Congress.
This principle had been recognized for more than twelve
years in the Continental Congress and in the existing gov-
ernment under the Articles of Confederation.
New Jersey had suffered much through defects in the
Confederation of States formed during the war. Each of
the States, jealous of its own power and privileges, had
withheld too much from Congress. There was fear in
New Jersey and in other small states that a stronger
national government might be controlled by the larger
States, New York, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts and
Virginia.
The country was still dependent on Europe for many
I4O STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
manufactured articles, English Colonial rule having for-
bidden or discouraged the establishment of factories. New
Jersey had complained bitterly of duties on imports at
New York and Philadelphia, the chief seaports through
which goods reached her in ships. These taxes went into
the State treasuries of New York and Pennsylvania and
were added to the price New Jersey paid for many articles.
Freight between New Jersey and the two large ports
was carried in sailboats. New York compelled New
Jersey's boats to enter and clear like foreign ships, paying
fees to New York. New Jersey struck back by laying a
heavy tax on the Sandy Hook Light, maintained by New
York for the shipping entering and leaving the harbor.
In the Convention of 1787 Paterson and Brearley as-
sailed a plan presented by Virginia for representation in
Congress entirely on the basis of the population or con-
tribution of each State. They declared it would destroy
the smaller States.
The New Jersey Plan, which won support among the
smaller States, provided foremost for the equal vote in
Congress of all States. It proposed increase of the powers
of Congress, to permit the levying of duties on imports at
any port in the country, by postage and other stamps, and
the regulation of commerce between the States and with
foreign countries. Congress was to elect the Federal Ex-
ecutive; but the question was left to the delegates to decide
whether this should be a president or a committee. Pun-
ishment of offenders against the Federal laws was left to
the State courts, subject to an appeal to Federal judges.
The debates that followed showed the danger of a split
that would divide the States into two or more unions
"wretched fragments of empire" as Washington wrote
of it.
DELEGATES TO CONVENTION OF 1787 141
Paterson boldly declared that New Jersey would never
join with other States on the Virginia plan. He would
rather submit to a monarch, to a despot, than to see his
State swallowed up.
In the end, the moderate counsel of Benjamin Franklin
for a compromise was heeded. The United States Senate
was formed under the New Jersey plan of equal repre-
sentation for all the States, so that each, whether large
or small, has two Senators and two votes. The influence
of the larger States, however, prevailed in the formation
of the House of Representatives, with its membership
based on the population of each State.
New Jersey was the third State to ratify the new Fed-
eral Constitution, December 18, 1787.
BIRTHPLACE OF HANS BRINKER
The story of Hans Ermker y or the Silver Skates has
delighted boys and girls in foreign lands as well as in the
United States. Children of New Jersey may not know that
it was written for two small boys by their own mother,
Mrs. Mary Mapes Dodge, in a tiny farmhouse on the
outskirts of Newark.
Mary Mapes was born in New York City in 1831. She
was one of four daughters of Professor James J. Mapes,
a well-known scientist and inventor. According to the cus-
tom of the day the Mapes girls were educated at home.
Mary was the best student of the four sisters and spent
hours poring over the great books that lined the shelves
of her father's spacious library. It was from her reading
of history, especially that of Holland, that she derived
much of the story of the little Dutch boy, Hans Brinker.
She loved to write, too, and when still but a young girl
helped her father with his scientific pamphlets.
When she was 20 years old Mary Mapes became the
wife of William Dodge, a New York lawyer. A few years
later Mr. Dodge died accidentally, leaving Mary Mapes
Dodge to care for herself and her two small boys, Harry
and Jamie. She gave up her New York home, went to live
with her parents, who had bought a home in the suburbs
of Newark, near the present Weequahic Park, and began
to write again. Almost from the beginning her stories
were eagerly bought by publishers.
In her father's busy home it was difficult to find a quiet
142
BIRTHPLACE OF HANS BRINKER 143
place in which to work, but Mary Dodge was a person
who always found a way out of difficulties. There was a
small farm cottage adjoining the orchard on her parents'
estate. With the help of her boys, she pulled down a par-
tition here and there and arranged the old cast-off furni-
ture, and soon had a cozy workshop away from the hub-
bub of the big house. There she worked while Harry and
Jamie were away at the Newark Academy each day; the
remainder of the day was spent at play with them after
their return. It is said that the boys' birthdays were always
celebrated in this little farmhouse den, with verses written
by their mother honoring the event.
The children enjoyed bedtime stories, and there was no
happier time in the day for the two boys than the evening
hour when they sat and listened to the tales their mother
told from the pictures in her own mind instead of from
the pages of a book someone else had written.
It was an especially happy day, not only for them, but
for countless children the world over, when she started to
tell the adventures of Hans Brinker and his sister. It was
in response to repeated requests from Harry and Jamie,
who spent many hours skating on Drake's pond nearby,
that she told the story of skaters across the seas. Each
night she recited a new chapter of the story for them, and
each following day she wrote it down. It was published
serially in a small magazine and was most eagerly re-
ceived. When eventually the story was printed in book
form its popularity was overwhelming.
The story of Hans Brinker has been translated into five
languages. In its first 30 years 100 editions were printed.
Although Mrs. Dodge had never been in Holland, she
had gained accurate knowledge of this little lowland na-
tion from her reading and from her Dutch neighbors,
144 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
with whom she discussed her work. The book was so well
done that it was accepted by the Dutch people themselves
as a true picture of their nation and its life.
Some years later Mrs. Dodge was traveling in Europe
with one of her sons. One day she sent him into a store
for a book about Holland. To her amazement he came
out with a copy of Hans Brinker, quoting the Dutch
dealer as saying it was positively the best book that had
ever been written about his people.
Mrs. Dodge wrote many other stories and verses for
children , but her outstanding service to juvenile literature
was her editorship of the popular magazine, St. Nicholas.
She was given charge of it shortly after it was founded
in 1873, an d credit is due her for its name. She could have
thought of no name dearer to the heart of childhood than
that of the good old saint. The editor of St. Nicholas num-
bered some of the leading writers of the country among
her personal friends and so was able to obtain contribu-
tions from such famous people as John Greenleaf Whittier
and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
The magazine achieved outstanding success, and it was
considered a privilege to write for its pages. When Kip-
ling, then a very young man, offered the services of his
pen, Mrs. Dodge asked him if he thought he was equal
to it. The story of Little Lord Fauntleroy by Frances
Hodgson Burnett was first written for serial publication
in St. Nicholas. It was for St. Nicholas that Mark Twain
wrote Tom Sawyer Abroad and Louisa May Alcott wrote
Under the Lilacs.
Mrs. Dodge planned the department contributed by the
young readers. This section, which became one of the most
popular features of the magazine, has always been known
as the St. Nicholas League, and many artists and writers
BIRTHPLACE OF HANS BRINKER
known far and wide entered upon their successful careers
through the pages of St. Nicholas. Edna St. Vincent Mil-
lay first received honorable mention by the League for
her verses when she was fourteen. Then she won, each
in turn, silver and gold badges, and at last the longed-for
cash prize.
Children of the gifted Benet family all contributed to
the League. It is interesting to compare the poem called
Mystery , written for St. Nicholas by Stephen Vincent
Benet when he was only fifteen, with his long prize poem
John Brown's Body, which has won him a high and last-
ing place in American literature. Faith Baldwin, Ring
Lardner and Cornelia Otis Skinner are among the many
other noted people who first won recognition through the
department established by Mrs. Dodge.
In the Weequahic section of Newark, where the parents
of Mary Mapes Dodge had their home, Mapes Avenue
has been named in honor of the family. The spacious old
homestead stood almost at the corner of Mapes and Eliz-
abeth Avenues. Today a huge modern apartment house
and the dug-out side of a hill mark the place where Mrs.
Dodge lived with her children and where the storybook
boy, Hans Brinker, was born.
>THE MAPES FARM
1847-1866
STEPHEN CRANE
Stephen Crane, who in a short life of less than 30 years
won for himself a lasting place among the great American
authors, was a native of New Jersey. Though in his varied
career he wandered through Europe and America, New
Jersey was, more than any other, the place he could call
home. And it was in New Jersey soil that he was finally
laid to rest among his ancestors.
On the joth anniversary of Stephen Crane's birth the
Schoolmen's Club of Newark, aided by the children of
the public schools, placed in the Newark Public Library a
bronze tablet bearing this inscription:
INSCRIBED TO THE MEMORY OF
STEPHEN CRANE
He attained before his untimely death, June 5th, 1900
international fame as a writer of fiction.
His novel, the Red Badge of Courage,
set a model for succeeding writers
on the emotions of men in battle.
His verse and his delightful stories of boyhood
anticipated strong later tendencies
in American Literature.
The power of his work won for him the admiration of a
wide circle of readers and critics.
Stephen Crane was born on November i, 1871, to the
Reverend Jonathan and Mary Crane in the Methodist
146
BUST OF STEPHEN CRANE NEWARK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
parsonage at 14 Mulberry Place, Newark. At that time
Mulberry Place was one of the city's best residential
streets. Today the house in which Stephen was born is
crowded among closely packed, tumbledown buildings.
Jonathan Crane was a man of moral and intellectual
independence. When he discovered in his student days at
Princeton that he could not honestly accept some of the
tenets of the Presbyterian Church, he had the courage to
leave it and enter the Methodist Church. Mary Crane,
like her husband, was a person of firm character and
fortitude. With such parents it was natural that Stephen
Crane should develop the hardihood to face poverty, ill-
ness and disappointment without flinching, and that his
stories were honest pictures of life as he saw it.
The Crane family had figured prominently in the affairs
of New Jersey and of the Nation for generations. Jasper
148 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
and Azariah Crane had founded the city of Montclair,
which for a time was called Cranetown. Another Crane
had taken part in the Continental Congress. When his
fourteenth child was born Jonathan Crane wrote to a
friend, "we have named him Stephen because it is an old
name in the Crane family."
Young Stephen, a delicate child, was subject to severe
colds, and it was not until he was eight years old and the
family had moved to Port Jervis, New York, that he was
allowed to attend school. He had been taught to read and
write at home, and once in school seemed to have little
difficulty in keeping step with his contemporaries.
In the quiet country town Stephen lived the life of a
normal schoolboy. He liked school no more than any boy
of his age, but he did like horses and dogs. This devotion
to animals and to all helpless creatures remained with him
to the end of his life.
In 1882 the family moved to Asbury Park, where
Stephen's brother Townley was conducting a news service
for Newark and Philadelphia newspapers. Here young
Stephen achieved a small fame in baseball. He boasted
that no one could pitch a ball that he could not catch bare-
handed, and announced to one of his elder brothers that
he was going to be a professional ballplayer.
In spite of his- interest in horses, dogs and baseball, he
was already beginning to show signs of his future ability.
He had a talent for unusual words, even to the point of
coining them to suit his meaning. His first step up the
ladder of literary fame was taken when he interrupted his
ball playing long enough to write an essay for a 25^ prize.
The summer of his seventeenth year he went to work
for his brother Townley in Asbury Park. He covered
miles of hot sandy roads on a bicycle, gathering news of
STEPHEN CRANE 149
the summer resorts and writing stories of clambakes and
sailing parties.
In 1889-90 he had two terms at Lafayette College, fol-
lowed by a year at Syracuse University. While there he
was correspondent for the New York Tribune and con-
tributed articles to the Detroit Free Press and Syracuse
Daily.
Anxious to be independent, Stephen moved in 1891 to
East 23rd Street, New York, to try to earn his living
with his pen. As a newspaper reporter he was a hopeless
failure. It was of more interest to him to describe accu-
rately and vividly the color and action of a great fire than
to tell where it happened or the loss involved. For a time
he tried business, but the routine and restraint were
unbearable.
Meanwhile he was spending his spare time exploring
the odd corners of the city, sitting in saloons and standing
on street corners, listening to the conversations of the
people about him. He had made up his mind that he was
going to write a book about the people on the Bowery j
therefore he must see for himself how these people lived
and talked. The book was written in the two days before
Christmas of 1891. He called it Maggie, a Girl of the
Streets. It so horrified the conventional-minded publishers
of that day that, although they recognized that it was the
work of an artist, they dared not undertake to print it.
All this time Crane was living in poverty and privation.
What odd bits he earned came from special articles sent
to the newspapers. He was too proud to ask help from
his brothers, who would have been only too glad to come
to his aid if they had realized his need. His brother
Edmund was living in Lakeview, just outside of Paterson.
It was no novelty for Stephen to walk the seven miles
I5O STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
from the Hudson River to his brother's home for a square
meal and a little rest. Perhaps it was at this time that he
said, "I would give my future literary career for twenty-
three dollars in cash at this minute."
In the summer of 1892 his brother Townley again gave
him a job in Asbury Park writing stories for the New
York Tribune. When Townley went away to Newark one
day, he left Stephen to cover a political parade held for
the Republican nominees for President and Vice Presi-
dent, Benjamin Harrison and Whitelaw Reid. These two
men represented the narrow capitalism of that time. Crane,
always sensitive to the lot of the underprivileged, was
moved by the irony of laborers marching for men who
opposed their interests. He forgot that Whitelaw Reid
owned the New York Tribune; he sat down and wrote
a biting article that somehow got past the copy desk and
was printed in one edition of the Tribune (August 21,
1892). It is said that this article helped defeat the two
candidates. It also cost Townley his job.
Maggie was still haunting her creator. In November
Crane borrowed $1,000 from his brother William and
had the book printed in a cheap paper-backed edition, to
be sold at 50^. But even this undignified approach failed
to reach the American public. Maggie in bright yellow
stacks gathered dust in the corner of his room. Some of
the copies were used for fuel. (In 1930 a copy of this
once despised first edition was sold to a collector for
$3,700.)
Meanwhile Crane was working on the book that was
to bring him lasting fame. In February 1894 he sold the
serial rights of The Red Badge of Courage for $100 to
a newspaper syndicate conducted by Irving Bacheller. This
story of the Civil War called forth a shower of favorable
STEPHEN CRANE I5 1
letters. The story was printed in book form the following
year. But it was not until the review of the English edition
reached this country that the general public awoke. Almost
overnight Crane became a person of public importance.
His stories at once had a ready market j even Maggie was
rescued from obscurity.
This belated recognition of his ability was a justification
of Crane's simplicity, honesty and devotion to his art,
expressed in the following extract from one of his letters:
. . . When I was the mark for every humorist in the
country I went ahead . . . for I understand that a
man is born into the world with his own pair of eyes,
and he is not at all responsible for his vision he is
merely responsible for his quality of personal hon-
esty . . .
In 1896 Crane was shipwrecked off the Florida coast
while on a filibustering expedition headed for Cuba from
Jacksonville. Crane, the ship's captain, the cook and an
oiler rowed in a dinghy for 50 hours until within swim-
ming distance of shore. This adventure was the basis for
The Open Boat, published in New York and London in
1898. This powerful, dramatic tale of shipwrecked men
has been acclaimed as one of the greatest short stories ever
written. The exposure endured in this experience was too
much for Crane's delicate constitution. He was never en-
tirely well thereafter.
His next assignment was as war correspondent for the
New York Journal and Westminster Gazette in the Greco-
Turkish War. In the freedom allowed a war correspon-
dent to recount vividly the stirring episodes of war, Crane
found the type of journalism he could and liked to do.
152 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
In addition to his regular work he wrote a series of letters
entitled With Greek and Turk.
It was during his stay in Greece that Cora Taylor, a
woman several years older than himself, whom he had
met in Jacksonville, Florida, nursed him through a serious
attack of illness. In 1898 they were married and returned
to England. They went to live in Surrey, where Crane
was able to indulge his love of dogs and horses. There
were never fewer than three dogs that had the run of the
place, and Crane spent many hours in the saddle riding
through the fresh English country. This house was a ren-
dezvous for novelists, critics and others of the literary
world. Guests came in swarms and stayed for long periods,
invited or not. At one time Crane had to take refuge in a
London hotel in order to get some work done while his
wife cleared the house of guests.
At the outbreak of the Spanish-American War Crane
left England, intending to enlist in the United States
Navy. He left so suddenly that many of his friends jour-
neying down for a visit to his Surrey home were surprised
to find him gone. After he had sailed the World cabled
to obtain his services as war correspondent, but it was only
after he had been turned down at the Navy recruiting
office that he reported for duty at the New York office of
the newspaper.
At Guantanamo Crane was caught in a surprise attack
on a party of marines. His gallantry in staying to help
care for the wounded under fire when he might have
sought safety on a gunboat earned him mention in official
dispatches.
While he was writing stories of the Battles of Santiago,
San Juan, Guantanamo and the Cuban blockade, he was
also working on short stories which are still among the
STEPHEN CRANE I 53
best American efforts in that field. But his health could
not withstand the climate, bad food and recurrent fevers.
He left the island a very sick man.
Back in England, after Christmas of 1899 Cora and
Stephen went to live in Brede Place, a crumbling baronial
hall, which it was hoped would not be so accessible to his
friends and where he might have quiet and peace in which
to work. But Cora's famous cooking and cordiality and
Crane's informal hospitality continued to attract visitors
not always considerate of their hosts' pocketbook and
privacy.
His health was failing rapidly, but he kept writing at a
furious pace. Finally, in a vain attempt to stall off the
ravages of tuberculosis, he hurried to Baden Weiler,
Germany.
The Black Forest could work no magic for Stephen
Crane. He died in his sleep on June 5, 1900. Cora had his
body brought back to the State of his birth, and he was
buried in the Crane family plot in Evergreen Cemetery,
Hillside, New Jersey.
THE LAST DAYS OF WALT WHITMAN
A little gray house, once the home of a Camden work-
ingman, is today one of the literary shrines of the world,
maintained by the State of New Jersey as a memorial to
the great Walt Whitman. Here "the good gray poet"
spent the last eight years of his life; and here he died in
the midst of the simple people he loved, whose minds
and hearts he had understood and interpreted in his strik-
ing poetry.
From the far corners of the earth people have come to
this quiet back street to pay homage to the man who has
been ranked with the great poets of all times. Among
those who have written their names in the guest book is
the Japanese poet, Katsua Kawa, who has translated Whit-
man's poems into the language of his country, where they
are as familiar to every schoolboy and schoolgirl as are
the poems of Longfellow and Milton to American school
children.
Whitman has been called the father of modern poetry.
His subjects were the common everyday people and things
about them. He found beauty in drab, sordid streets; in
the harsh lines of factory buildings; in crowding chimneys
and plodding ferryboats; in dull-eyed, tired working peo-
ple and the problems of their daily life. The new and free
style of his verse, which often disregards rhyme and
adopts the rhythms of Nature rather than the pattern of
earlier poetic forms, was adopted after long and patient
experiment as bet suited to express the things he had to
THE LAST DAYS OF WALT WHITMAN 155
say. His vigorous and colorful style reflects the abounding
vitality and love of life that were his outstanding
characteristics.
Whitman himself declared that his poetry would not
be appreciated until 100 years after his death j but his
prophecy was not borne out. Although his fame has risen
slowly, he was already being acclaimed in 1873 when,
at the age of 53, he came to his brother's Camden home to
see his dying mother.
After his mother's death, when his brother moved to
Burlington, New Jersey, Whitman chose to remain in
Camden. He had spent days and nights wandering the
streets and had come to love the little city and its simple,
hard-working people. At first he lived in lodgings j and
then, with the help of George W. Childs, a wealthy Phila-
delphia admirer, he bought the little two-story frame
house at 330 Mickle Street. The belongings of the poet
are there, his books, his work chair, some furniture that
was in his childhood home in West Hills, Long Island j
portraits of his father and mother, a bust of himself by
Sidney Morse, a copy of his will, and a copy of the Jap-
anese translation of his Leaves of Grass.
From 1884 to 1892 he worked contentedly at the parlor
window of the little house until his long, last illness con-
fined him to his bedroom. On spring and summer days the
people passing his window would stop to hail him, espe-
cially the children, and he would drop his pen to greet
them. Perhaps that is one reason why he was often pressed
for money. His poems and articles were selling in news-
papers and magazines j but Walt was more absorbed in
observing life and people and in developing his art than
in the practical problems of living. Admirers of his poems
in England sent him $400 through the Pall Mall Gazette.
156 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
Friends arranged a lecture for him in Philadelphia, and
he got a goodly sum for it.
Then, as he began to decline, the aging poet could
enjoy life as he wished. Camden people bought him a
horse and buggy, and he was the delight of the town,
driving at full speed, his great white beard streaming over
his shoulders. Nothing disturbed him, neither popular
opinion nor physical inconvenience. He took whatever life
offered, even the smell of the neighboring fertilizer plant
and the shouting of a nearby congregation.
In his bedroom was an iron stove. In cold weather he
kept the wood piled about its base, while in an outer circle
were stacks of books and manuscripts. When he went to
bed he would hang his clothes on the higher piles, drop-
ping his shoes between the islands of books, sticking the
ink bottle where it would hold. His housekeeper was a
brave woman, leaving the poet to pursue his work undis-
turbed by any criticism of his disorderly habits. Even
when he took his work to the kitchen she did not com-
plain. His spotted dog ambled around, and the cat
smoothed itself against his legs. Sometimes a rooster
paraded in with his wives and pecked around contentedly.
Many famous people journeyed to the little house to
meet Whitman, and he received them all with the same
enthusiasm and informality that he offered the children
and neighborhood friends.
In the autumn of 1891 he began planning his tomb,
which can be seen in Harleigh Cemetery in Camden. The
inscription, "For That of Me Which Is to Die," was writ-
ten by the poet and engraved on the stone at his request.
All through the winter he lingered, confined to his bed
in his cluttered bedroom, surrounded by a sea of books and
manuscripts. On March 26, 1892, he closed his eyes for
WALT WHITMAN'S HOME
the last time. The tomb was waiting for his body, but his
spirit has been kept alive in the little house which reflects
so much of his personality and life.
CLARA BARTON, IN SCHOOL AND IN WAR
In a quiet corner of the old town of Bordentown, on a
wedge-shaped lot enclosed by a picket fence, is a tiny one-
story brick schoolhouse one of the first public schools in
New Jersey. The key, borrowed from the house opposite,
will admit the visitor to the one-room building, not much
larger than a playhouse, where a few pieces of old-fash-
ioned school furniture are preserved.
In 1921 the school children of New Jersey contributed
to a fund to restore the building and maintain it as a
memorial to the little New England school teacher who
opened the door to those children who were deprived of
education because their parents could not afford to pay the
required fee. That teacher was Clara Barton, later to be-
come world-famous as the founder and first president of
the American Red Cross.
On Christmas Day 1821 Stephen and Sarah Barton wel-
comed into their farmhouse in Oxford, Massachusetts, the
fifth child to their family of half-grown boys and
girls. The new baby was named Clarissa Marlowe, after
the heroine of an early 1 8th century best seller by Samuel
Richardson.
Her father, Captain Stephen Barton, had been a Revo-
lutionary soldier. He liked books and saw to it that his
children had access to them. Clara could not recall when
she learned to read. Practically in infancy she was taught
spelling, arithmetic and geography by her brothers and
sisters. At four she was ready to go to school in the little
158
CLARA BARTON, IN SCHOOL AND IN WAR 159
stone building not far away from her home. She wrote
quaintly of her childhood:
I had no playmates but in effect six fathers and
mothers. They were a family of school teachers. All
took charge of me, all educated me, each according to
personal taste. My two sisters were scholars and artis-
tic and strove in that direction. My brothers were
strong, ruddy, daring young men, full of life and
business.
At eight Clara entered what was called high school,
which meant boarding away from home. The timid little
girl was so unhappy in the strange surroundings that it
was decided to take her home, where her instruction again
fell to her brothers and sisters.
Timidity was a handicap that Clara Barton had to fight
all her life. Many years later, when she had faced the
dangers of the battlefield and had stood before great audi-
ences to persuade them to her ideas, she wrote: "I would
rather stand behind the line of artillery at Antietam, or
cross the pontoon bridge under fire at Fredericksburg than
to be expected to preside at a public meeting."
Clara's sensitiveness and timidity caused her mother
considerable anxiety, and, being an intelligent woman, she
looked about for a way to help her youngest daughter. At
this time people were taking a great interest in phrenol-
ogy. This now discredited "science" claimed to read char-
acter and to estimate mental aptitude by studying the
formation of the skull.
Mrs. Barton asked Mr. L. W. Fowler, author of a
popular book on phrenology, what Clara ought to do in
life. Mr. Fowler's answer proved that he had wisdom if
not scientific accuracy. "The sensitive nature will always
l6o STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
remain. She will never assert herself for herself; she will
suffer wrong first. But for others she will be perfectly
fearless. Throw responsibility upon her." He suggested
that she become a school teacher. Both Clara and her
mother were much impressed by Mr. Fowler's recommen-
dation. Years later she looked back upon Mr. Fowler's
visit as the turning point in her career.
Clara Barton was 15 at the time and barely five feet
tall, but all she needed to qualify as a teacher was to let
down her skirts and put up her hair. Her education was
ample to meet the requirements. A position was obtained
for her in a district school near her home.
Her success as a teacher was immediate, for she com-
manded the love and respect of her pupils. Young though
she was, she had no trouble with discipline. In the next 10
years she was often called upon to straighten out problems
in schools where there was disciplinary trouble.
Teaching in country schools, however, did not long
satisfy this ambitious young woman. She realized that
these years of her youth should be spent in increasing her
own knowledge and training her own mind. Higher edu-
cation for women was not taken seriously at this time, and
there were few institutions that offered Clara Barton what
she was looking for. She finally decided on the Liberal
Institute, at Clinton, New York, where she dismayed the
faculty by her eagerness to fill to the limit her program
of study.
When she had absorbed all that the Institute had to
offer, spending her vacations there in study and reading,
she accepted an invitation to visit friends, the Nortons, in
Bordentown, New Jersey. There she was offered an oppor-
tunity to teach in the Bordentown school.
This was in 1852. In New England and New York free
k^ijfetfyfcK
CLARA BARTON'S SCHOOL, BORDENTOWN
schools had been established ; but in New Jersey the old
fee system remained. Only those who were able to con-
tribute to teachers' salaries and the cost of maintenance
could receive an education. It was not long before the
faces of the children of the poor began to haunt and worry
the young teacher.
One day she approached a group of youngsters idling
around the park fountain.
"Would you boys like to go to school?" she inquired
brightly.
She was ready for the reply, "Lady, there is no school
for us." True enough, there was no school for these
urchins. But Clara Barton had quietly made up her mind
that there would be a school provided and soon.
"If there were a school opened for you, would you
come?"
l62 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
"We would be glad to go if there was one," was the
eager reply.
That was all she wanted to know. Without delay she
sought out Mr. Suydam, the chairman of the school com-
mittee, and laid the plan before him. He listened carefully
to her idea for a public school and, when she had finished,
proceeded in a sympathetic but superior manner to explain
the impossibility of the venture. The rich would not
patronize a "pauper school." The ragamuffins really be-
longed in a reform school j anyway how could a woman
expect to control them? Since there would be no fees from
the pupils there would be no pay for her.
To all his arguments Clara had a reply. She offered to
work without pay for an experimental period of three
months if the committee would furnish quarters. Mr.
Suydam, completely vanquished, referred her to the
school committee. The determined young woman over-
rode their objections and instilled in them, against their
will, something of her own enthusiasm and confidence.
Clara Barton got her school. A little ramshackle one-
room building opened its doors on the first day to six timid
pupils, and Bordentown sat down to watch the results.
But they had not long to wait.
The school quickly outgrew its quarters, and Clara sent
word to her brother, superintendent of schools in Oxford,
Massachusetts, that she had to have an assistant. He sent
Miss Fannie Childs, who was put in charge of 60 pupils,
quartered in a room over a tailor shop. When there was
no longer any doubt of the success of the public school,
the Bordentown citizens voted $4,000 for the construction
of an eight-room brick schoolhouse, and proceeded to the
appointment of a principal to manage it.
Today it would be natural to appoint the founder and
CLARA BARTON, IN SCHOOL AND IN WAR 163
organizer to fill the post of principal j but the people of
the middle I9th century were reluctant to place authority
in the hands of a woman. It was argued that the school
was too large for a woman to manage, although a woman
had developed it and was managing it successfully. There
was persistent demand on the part of the citizens for a
male principal. The majority of the pupils would have
preferred to keep Clara Barton, but in the end the appoint-
ment was given to a man.
The tireless little woman, who had given the best of
her energy and talent to the building up of the public
school, would not remain to occupy a second place.
Whether from disappointment or overwork, she suffered
a nervous collapse. Her voice completely failed her, and
she was prostrated.
In 1854 she went to Washington to regain her strength,
little realizing that in leaving Bordentown she was leav-
ing the schoolroom forever. She had no more definite plan
than to gain some knowledge of the Nation's Capital.
Returning strength renewed her ambition. Before long
she had received an appointment as clerk in the Patent
Office one of the first women to receive a government
appointment.
When the Civil War broke out Clara Barton began
visiting the hospitals in Washington and doing what she
could to help the soldiers. She made newspaper appeals
for money and supplies for the injured. She organized
groups of women as nurses and took them to the battle-
fields to ease the sufferings of the wounded while they
were waiting for transportation to hospitals.
Despite every opposition and obstacle placed in her way
164 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
by those in authority, she carried on her work. On the
grounds of 16 battles she nursed the sick and wounded
and comforted the dying. She was known far and wide
as "the angel of the battlefield."
When the war was over and the North counted its
losses, 359,528 were listed as dead. There were 315,555
graves, and of these only 172,400 were identified, leaving
I 43> 1 55 graves without names. When frantic relatives
flooded Washington with inquiries about their loved ones,
there was the utmost confusion. President Lincoln called
on Clara Barton. She established a bureau for answering
the countless letters, and managed to locate over 40,000
men, dead and alive.
Once more Clara Barton had overtaxed her strength.
As at the time she left Bordentown, her voice failed her
and she had a nervous collapse. She was ordered to Swit-
zerland for a three years' rest.
At Geneva a delegation from the International Com-
mittee for the Relief of the Wounded in War called upon
her, urging her to do something about aligning the United
States with the great cause. The war of 1870 between
France and Germany was then in progress. Clara Barton
was so much impressed by the efficiency of the Red Cross
of the two countries that she determined to try to get her
own people to join the international organization. For
years she devoted herself untiringly to this great cause.
From the lecture platform and in the press she issued
countless appeals to her fellow countrymen.
In 1882 the American National Red Cross was formed
with Clara Barton as its first president. From then on
Clara Barton's life was one with the great organization
she had founded. She saw it bring its priceless services to
CLARA BARTON, IN SCHOOL AND IN WAR 165
suffering people in such disasters as the Spanish-American
War, the San Francisco earthquake and Mississippi floods.
She did not live to see the achievements of the Red
Cross during the World War, for she died April 12, 1912,
at the age of 90.
JOHN HOLLAND, SUBMARINE INVENTOR
Strangely enough the submarine, which took a terrific
toll of life in the World War, was the invention of a
school teacher who hoped that his invention would insure
peace by making war impracticable. He foresaw the de-
struction of entire navies by this vessel which could steal
up unseen and with one well-aimed torpedo sink a great
battleship.
This peace-minded inventor was John P. Holland, born
in Ireland in 1 840. While teaching school as a young man
of 30 in his native County Clare, he first got the idea of
an undersea boat of steel. He had been much impressed by
the battle of the Monitor and the Merrimac during the
Civil War, but it was hardly to be expected that a genera-
tion that had laughed at the "cheese box on a raft" would
take enthusiastically to his fantastic idea.
Failing to interest the British Government, Holland
migrated to America in 1873, and became a teacher at
St. John's Parochial School in Paterson. In 1875 he sub-
mitted plans for his undersea craft to the Navy Depart-
ment, but the United States Government was no more
receptive than the British Admiralty.
Holland's persistence finally won the support of an
Irish brotherhood known as the Fenian Society, which
enabled him to finance the construction of his first experi-
mental craft. The little boat, only 14 feet long, could hold
but one man. It was divided into three compartments. In
the center was the machinery, the small engine and the
166
HOLLAND SUBMARINE, WEST SIDE PARK, PATERSON
apparatus for storing an air supply for the operator. This
section was, of course, airtight and watertight. The two
end sections were built to hold or discharge water pumped
in and out by the engine, making the boat sink or rise.
On the afternoon of May 22, 1878, Holland brought
his craft, which had cost $4,000, from the shops of Raf-
ferty and Todd in Paterson and launched it in the Passaic
River. The results were discouraging. The submarine had
sprung a leak in transport and sank almost immediately.
But a leak was only the first of a series of obstacles that
were to impede the progress of Holland's invention. After
the boat was raised, several further attempts were made to
operate it. There was no room on board for steam boilers,
so a launch was pressed into service to supply steam
through a flexible rubber hose. When the hose broke, as
it frequently did, Holland opened a little trap door and
calmly swam to the surface.
The weight of the stem prevented floating, so the boat
had to be supported by heavy casks. Disregarding these
relatively minor difficulties, Holland determined to con-
centrate on testing the submerging possibilities. On June
6, 1878, at 6 p.m. the submarine dove beneath the sur-
face, remained there until the same hour on the following
1 68 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
day, and emerged with no damage to itself or the occu-
pant. That much, at least, had been accomplished. It had
been proved that the submarine was no idle dream.
Forced, for the time being, to be content with this in-
complete success, the inventor abandoned the craft. It was
tied up beneath the Spruce Street bridge. Forty-seven
years later a group of young men, with the aid of a mag-
net borrowed from a nearby plant, located the almost for-
gotten boat. They salvaged it from the river bottom and
presented it to the Paterson Museum, where it is now on
display.
In 1 88 1 Holland launched another submarine in the
Hudson River. This new boat, built in the Delamater
yards, was a decided improvement. Thirty-one feet long
and equipped with a one-cylinder combustion engine, it
could accommodate a crew of three.
By this time Holland's venture had attracted consider-
able notice. Cheering throngs on boats and on shore
watched in amazement as the "wild Irishman" in his cigar-
shaped craft ducked under the surface in the harbor off
Staten Island to a depth of 100 feet, remained for an
hour and rose again. The Fenian Ram y as the new boat
was named by a newspaper reporter, caused quite a flurry
in the daily news as the inventor continued to try it out.
There were various conjectures as to the purpose for
which it was built. There was no war in progress, nor in
prospect, other than the chronic trouble between Ireland
and England. This gave rise to the half-humorous sugges-
tion that the boat was meant for the use of the Irish
against the British navy; therefore the name, Fenian
Ram.
Tug and ferryboat captains were frequently startled
when the queer-looking craft rose from the bottom. Sud-
JOHN HOLLAND, SUBMARINE INVENTOR 169
denly the little trap door would open and out would pop
the genial smiling face of John Holland, who would hail
them gaily in his thick Irish brogue. Since there was no
periscope to warn the navigator of anything on the sur-
face, there was great danger of collision. On January 3,
1 88 1, the Ram was sunk when it collided with a ferry-
boat near the Weehawken slip. Within a week a wrecking
crew had raised the boat. It rests today in West Side Park,
Paterson.
It seemed that Holland's hard work was accomplishing
nothing but the distinction of providing exhibits for Pater-
son. But the intrepid schoolmaster kept at his task, and
five years later he completed another submarine. Success,
however, was still far off. This third vessel was damaged
in launching, and the Fenian Society, discouraged by
repeated failures, withdrew its financial aid.
Holland had learned enough from his mistakes to spur
him to further endeavors. Although the Navy Depart-
ment still withheld recognition, the new device com-
manded the interest and support of those who were con-
cerned with the improvement of war machinery, and he
was able to obtain financial backing to continue his work.
He worked at plans and models for seven more years and
finally succeeded in getting the support of the Navy offi-
cials. In. 1893, w i tn a $150,000 contract, he started to
build again. The new boat, called the Plunger, was
launched in Baltimore, Maryland, in 1895; but Holland
had been so hampered in carrying out his plans by inter-
ference from government experts that the result was a
failure, and the Plunger was abandoned.
Holland, still under government contract, returned to
New Jersey and at the Crescent Shipyards in Elizabeth-
port started to build the Holland according to his own
I7O STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
ideas, profiting by the mistakes made in the construction
of the Plunger.
The Holland was successfully launched early in 1898.
It was 53 feet 10 inches long, fitted with a gasoline engine
for surface propulsion and an electric motor, supplied by
storage batteries, for traveling under water. It carried one
pneumatic dynamite gun, a torpedo tube and several tor-
pedoes.
In February of that year, before the submarine had
been accepted by the government, it became the center of
a serio-comic incident. The United States was on the brink
of war with Spain, and, as a protest against the presence
of the Maine in Havana harbor, the Spanish warship
Viscaya had been sent to New York and was anchored in
the harbor.
One of those baseless rumors to which nervous govern-
ment officials are susceptible in troublous times reached
the ear of the Navy Department. The tale was that the
Holland was planning to try its guns on the Viscaya.
Admiral Bunce, in command of the New York Navy
Yard, was ordered to watch the strange vessel and seize
it if necessary.
The Holland, as yet privately owned, had set out from
Elizabethport for Perth Amboy for final preparation be-
fore being tested. Just before leaving she had taken on
board several dummy wooden projectiles made to fit the
8-inch dynamite gun mounted in the bow. From a distance
these dummies looked very real; so real that when a Navy
tug came to look for the submarine, some workmen at the
shipyard told the tugboat captain that they had seen the
Holland load up with projectiles and set off down the
river. At full speed the tug went in pursuit. An all-day
search of New York Harbor and the port of Perth Amboy
JOHN HOLLAND, SUBMARINE INVENTOR 1 7 1
revealed no sign of the suspect, but the Viscaya was still
intact, so the tug returned to report the disappearance of
the submarine and no harm done. Several days later, quite
innocent of the commotion it had aroused, the little Hol-
land was discovered tied up in the Perth Amboy docks.
At that time Holland had not yet tested the submerg-
ing ability of his latest model. The first test took place
on March 17, St. Patrick's Day. It was not, however, until
April 1900, after several grueling tests off Sandy Hook
and Long Island, that the Government authorized the
purchase of the Holland.
On one of these tests, in June 1899, Clara Barton, the
founder of the American Red Cross, was on board as a
guest. As they ran for two miles under 15 feet of water,
Holland explained the mechanical devices and described
the probable effect of the torpedo. If he expected any
approbation from his guest he was sadly disappointed, for
Clara Barton in no uncertain terms expressed her dismay
that a civilized American should be guilty of inventing
such a deadly instrument. Holland hastened to explain
that he was confident that if all nations were equipped
with submarines war would no longer be possible.
In December 1899 the Holland was taken to Washing-
ton, D. C., for exhibition runs up the Potomac River.
Because of rough weather it was decided to take the inside
passage from Perth Amboy through the Delaware and
Raritan Canal to Bordentown, down the Delaware to
Delaware City and through the Chesapeake Canal to
Chesapeake Bay and on to Washington.
All along the route people turned out in crowds to see
this new wonder. At Bordentown, where the submarine
came through the locks of the canal and entered the Dela-
172 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
ware River, public school children were dismissed and
many of the stores were closed.
A few months after the successful demonstration at
Washington, the Government ordered six more subma-
rines. The following year Great Britain, Russia and Japan
placed their orders.
John Holland made an unquestionable success of his
invention, but he utterly failed to promote peace. Realiza-
tion of this final failure was spared him by his death on
August 12, 1914, at the opening of the World War. If
they both had lived, Clara Barton might have reminded
him of her words on that June day in 1899.
WORKING AND LIVING TOGETHER
NORTH AMERICAN PHALANX
The panic of 1837 and the long period of suffering
afterward focused wide attention on plans for establishing
a social order with a more abundant and secure life for all
the people. Many of the social thinkers of a century ago
felt the need of testing their theories to prove their worth.
To do this it was necessary to organize communities where
people would live and work under a plan that differed
sharply from the ordinary community life in towns and
villages.
As a result, hundreds of experimental projects sprang
up throughout the country. Some lasted only a few
months, others for several years. One of the most suc-
cessful was the North American Phalanx, about five miles
west of Red Bank in Monmouth County, New Jersey.
Today, resting quietly in a grove of trees, a large, ram-
bling house occupied by descendants of the original
founders is all that remains of the once busy community
where for 12 years men and women worked, played and
educated their children with one common object the
greatest good for the greatest number.
The socially minded thinkers of the period believed
that most unhappiness arose from competition in an eco-
nomic order that made it necessary for each individual to
work for as much profit as possible, regardless of the
rights of others. This resulted in the setting up of two
classes the rich, with leisure for recreation and study,
and the poor, with time for little except work.
175
I
Courtesy Red Bank Register
NORTH AMERICAN PHALANX FROM AN OLD OIL PAINTING
Most of the proposed plans fell into two categories,
based on the ideas of Robert Owen of England or of
Charles Fourier of France. Owen had put his socialistic
ideas into practice at his textile mill in New Lanark, Scot-
land. Visitors reported that the workers appeared remark-
ably happy, especially when compared with those in other
towns where the Industrial Revolution had brought only
exploitation and misery. Owen came to America and lec-
tured to huge crowds. He tried to establish a socialistic
community at New Harmony, Indiana, in 1825, but
failed.
Fourier differed from Owen in one important way.
Owen believed that mankind would never be happy so
long as the rich and the poor remained as separate classes,
and that the only solution was to give every man the
means of enjoying an abundant life. On the other hand,
Fourier argued that the rich man should be allowed to
keep his wealth and bequeath it to his children, even
NORTH AMERICAN PHALANX 177
though it was more than was needed for a comfortable
existence. He felt that the rich and poor could reach an
understanding through living together in an experimental
community.
Under Fourier's plan, every member of the communal
enterprise would get income from three sources: interest
on his investment, a share of the profits and wages for his
labor. Fourier believed that a man would have to work
only 10 years, from three to five hours a day, to be assured
of an income for the rest of his life. His followers estab-
lished many communities in France, but his plan failed
to work.
Although the theories of Fourier and Owen had borne
no practical results, many people maintained that they had
planted the seeds of a new and happier society which
needed only careful planning to bring it to flower. It was
during this period that Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote to
Thomas Carlyle: "Any one you meet on the street may
at any time produce a new community project from his
waistcoat pocket." Among the many who became infected
was Albert Brisbane, father of the late newspaper editor,
Arthur Brisbane. In 1840, on his return from France, the
elder Brisbane published a book, Social Destiny of Man,
inspired by the ideas of Fourier. Three years later he pub-
lished a paper, The Phalanx, in which he detailed the
Fourier plan of social reorganization.
According to this plan people would live in groups of
from 800 to 4,000, away from the big cities. These groups,
known as Phalanxes (taken from the Greek military for-
mation), would be self-supporting, growing their own
food and making their own clothes, furniture and other
articles. People were to be housed in huge, hotellike struc-
tures called phalansteries, eliminating the duplication of-
178 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
housework. Three or four phalanxes would form a union,
and three or four unions would become a district. Several
districts, in turn, would become a province. Between the
phalanxes scattered over the land there would be an ex-
change of surplus goods. There would be no drones, no
parasites, no extremes of poverty and wealth. Rich and
poor would work together and learn to understand each
other through equal education and opportunity for all.
By successive combinations, a world unity would emerge.
There would be a republican form of government with
annual elections. Universal harmony would do away with
soldiers, policemen and criminals.
With the idea of reaching a wider public, Brisbane pur-
chased from Horace Greeley the use of a daily column in
the New York Tribune in which, day after day, he ex-
pounded the theory of Fourierism. Although Greeley was
to become one of the staunchest supporters of the Phalanx
movement, he took care to assume no responsibility for
Brisbane's articles. The column carried a statement which
read, "This column has been purchased by the advocates
of Association in order to lay their principles before the
public."
Brisbane's teachings fell on fertile soil. A few years
later one investigator listed 69 associative communities,
excluding religious ones, 15 of which were called pha-
lanxes. They comprised about 9,000 people and owned
about 140,000 acres of land.
One of the most famous experiments of the time was
Brook Farm, a few miles out of Boston, founded in 1842
as an endeavor in communal living based upon the social-
political democracy advocated by George Bancroft, the his-
torian. George Ripley, the founder, was a Unitarian min-
ister whose plan was
NORTH AMERICAN PHALANX 179
... to insure a more natural union between intel-
lectual and manual labor ... to combine the thinker
and the worker as far as possible in the same indi-
vidual ... to guarantee the highest mental freedom
by providing all with labor adapted to their tastes and
talents and to secure for them the fruits of their
industry.
Many of the most distinguished scholars and literary
men of the day Nathaniel Hawthorne, Ralph Waldo
Emerson, Charles Dana, later editor of the New York
Sun; the Reverend Theodore Parker and a host of others
were active in, or for a time associated with, the Brook
Farm colony. When Brisbane's articles appeared, Brook
Farm aligned itself with the Phalanx plan and for a time
was known as the Brook Farm Phalanx. The Harbinger,
the organ of Fourierism in this country, was printed at
Brook Farm from June 1845 to June 1847.
Although the Brook Farm experiment has, because of
its association with many names famous in literature, re-
ceived more attention from writers and historians, it was
not nearly so successful as the New Jersey colony known
as the North American Phalanx. One reason given for
this is that the Phalanx members happened to be prac-
tical, rather than literary or esthetic. Of the scores of colo-
nies set up along the lines of Fourierism, the majority
lasted not more than a year. Brook Farm lasted about six
years, but the North American Phalanx flourished for 12
years.
In 1 843 a small group of ten progressive families from
the vicinity of Albany, with an aggregate subscription of
$8,000, purchased the old Van Mater farm in Monmouth
County for $14,000 and set up the North American Pha-
i8o
STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
lanx. There were 673 acres of well-watered arable land,
woodland and meadow, plus extensive beds of marl, used
as fertilizer. In addition to those who took up residence,
there were some who had sufficient faith in the experiment
to back it with purchases of stock. Among these was
Horace Greeley, who, from first to last, was an enthusi-
astic supporter of the association. He had dedicated his
New Yorker to an "advocacy of the great social revo-
lution . . . rendering all useful Labor at once instruc-
tive and honorable, and banishing Want . . . from the
globe."
In September some of the families took possession of
the two farmhouses on the property. In most instances
the men preceded their families in order to prepare suit-
able quarters for the women and children who followed
in the spring.
The first two years were extremely difficult for the set-
tlers. Nathan French later said that the first winter they
lived on buckwheat cakes and sorghum, and the second
winter on buckwheat cakes without sorghum. The farm
was impoverished, and none of the colonists knew much
about farming. There were only two farm buildings and
a pre-Revolutionary barn. But the settlers were not easily
discouraged. They had pledged themselves "not to rest
nor turn back until the whole people were convinced of
the practicability of associative living."
By 1847 tne population was about 90, including about
40 children under 16. The colonists represented a cross
section of people from all walks of life: scientists, writers,
doctors, lawyers, artisans, farmers. New quarters had to
be provided for all these people, and a multifamily house
was erected on the plans of Fourier. This phalanstery was
40 by 80 feet, three stories high and was flanked on each
NORTH AMERICAN PHALANX l8l
side by the two old farm buildings. The top floor was
reserved for bachelors, the middle floor for the families.
Each family had two bedrooms and a sitting room. The
first floor or "grand salon" was used as a dining room.
When there were dances or lectures the tables were
pushed aside. Here the colonists staged their amateur
plays and charades. Music was often provided by a
famous Negro fiddler, Caesar Johnson, who lived near
the Phalanx.
Each person bore his or her share of the work of the
entire community. A woman who had spent the morning
in the dairy, or in canning fruits or vegetables, might in
the afternoon teach French or music to a group of chil-
dren. After a day's digging in the potato field, teachers,
writers and farmers would congregate in the evening to
discuss the political or social questions of the day. One
settler declared that "our days were spent in labor and
our nights in legislation for the first five years."
There was some criticism of the unconventional be-
havior of the colonists. Women of the surrounding com-
munities were shocked at seeing the Phalanx women
wearing a sort of Turkish trouser over which was worn
a skirt reaching a little below the knees. These loose trou-
sers, known as bloomers, were named after Mrs. Amelia
Jenks Bloomer of New York, who had introduced them
in 1848. The Phalanx women found the trousers more
comfortable for work in the fields. So much excitement
did the bloomers cause in the streets of Red Bank (a tiny
settlement itself at that time) that the colonist women
usually put on long skirts when they went shopping.
The Phalanx people were far beyond their time in
many things. They believed in and practiced religious
toleration, the 3O-hour week and profit sharing. All forms
l82 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
of work were considered equally honorable, with no dif-
ferences in pay according to age or sex. In addition to
reserves for old age and accidents, a fund was to be main-
tained for the education of children, which was an impor-
tant factor in the systems of both Fourier and Owen.
Education at Phalanx was similar to what is, even to-
day, called progressive. The students, for instance, drew
from real models instead of from an art book and studied
living plants instead of a textbook on botany. They fre-
quently spent the entire day at school, keeping busy with
a multitude of tasks and incidentally leaving their mothers
free for their own work. The teachers attempted to give
the pupils a true insight into the business of life by pre-
senting to them the problems of production, distribution
and administration. In addition, the association maintained
a day nursery and an evening school for workers. Mem-
bers had the benefits of lectures, concerts, readings, plays,
daily papers and a library. Every distinguished lecturer
who appeared in New York was likely to be brought
there.
The people ate in the main dining room and could
order what they pleased from the menu, as if they were
in a restaurant. Families could either sit at the long tables
or enjoy the privacy of a small table. Coffee sold for y 2 $
a cup, bread for i^ a plate, meat 2^, pie 2^, and every-
thing else in proportion. "Table, laundry and room rent
amounted to $2 a week and sometimes less."
The work was divided into series: the agricultural series,
the domestic series, the manufacturing series, etc., and
these were subdivided into groups. Each series was headed
by a chief. The leaders, or series chiefs, as they were
called, comprised the industrial council. Each evening the
council met and planned the work for the following day.
NORTH AMERICAN PHALANX 183
"Every able-bodied person had his or her appointed task.
Because of careful planning and supervision there was no
confusion, loss of time or idleness."
The rate of pay was from 6^ to 10^ an hour, with the
series heads receiving 10^ a day extra. The least agreeable
and most exhausting work paid the highest rate. Every-
thing was furnished at wholesale price. Food was raised
in the garden and on the farm. Clothing was made on the
premises. There was little need for money and less need
for saving. The Phalanx contract provided for old age
pensions and insurance to cover any emergency.
Soon farmers and mechanics joined the colony, machine
shops and mills were constructed, and after a few years'
hard work the colony was producing wheat, rye, buck-
wheat flour, corn meal and hominy. By 1852 the North
American Phalanx farm was one of the most productive
and profitable in the State. Its original value of $14,000
had increased to $80,000 and its population to 112. Phi-
losophers, sociologists and curiosity seekers came from far
and wide. Charles A. Dana, the Reverend George Ripley
and other members of the Brook Farm Colony were visi-
tors. All went away impressed with the apparent success
and happiness of the members.
Soon there was enough surplus to sell to outsiders. The
association purchased an interest in a steamboat plying
between Red Bank and New York and another between
Keyport and New York. All fruits, vegetables, flour and
other products sent to market were stamped N.A.P. This
trademark was recognized as representing high quality.
The first packaged and trademarked cereals ever sold in
this country came from the Phalanx mills.
It is probable that the success of the Phalanx was due
to the wise administration of the three men at the head of
184 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
the organization. Charles Sears, a businessman, was presi-
dent for a time and always took a leading part in its
affairs 5 John Bucklin, his brother-in-law, was head of the
agricultural group, and Nathan French had charge of the
manufacturing group.
In spite of the flourishing condition of affairs and the
apparent satisfaction of the members, there was an under-
current of disagreement. Little by little the desire for gain
began to undermine the smooth surface of the colony. As
news of returning prosperity came from the outside world,
a teacher who was paid 9^ an hour began to wonder if it
would not be better to go where he would receive $5 for
two hours' work. There was some question as to whether
higher pay and independence were not preferable to the
communal life. Then, following a visit by a missionary,
religious sectarianism began to cause some dissension in
contrast to the previous mutual tolerance.
In 1854 there was a fire that destroyed the flour mill,
sawmill, smithy and machinery. The loss involved was
about $9,000 not enough to ruin the association. At a
conference after the fire, no decision could be reached as
to the best site on which to rebuild the mills. There were
some who advocated that they be built nearer to shipping
points. A number of these withdrew their capital and some
of them formed at Perth Amboy a new association headed
by George B. Arnold, which they called the Raritan Bay
Union. They thought they could make more money there.
They did not.
A vote was then held on the desirability of continuing,
and the majority voted in favor of dissolution. The fire,
therefore, was more the excuse than the reason for aban-
doning the experiment.
In April 1855 the Phalanx property was broken up into
NORTH AMERICAN PHALANX 185
parcels and sold at auction. The nonresident stockholders
got 1 00% of their investment back. The resident stock-
holders received about 60%. The Phalanx was dead, but
the members were almost unanimous in regarding this
period as the happiest of their lives. A number of them
remained in Monmouth County, where they became sub-
stantial and respected residents.
John Bucklin purchased the phalanstery with the pur-
pose of continuing the canning industry. Down through
the years the Bucklin family has occupied the huge build-
ing, moving into closer quarters as decrepit sections were
torn down. The Bucklin factory in the village of Phalanx,
where tomatoes and other vegetables are canned, is on the
site of the association's property.
In 1887 Alexander Woolcott, grandson of John Buck-
lin, was born at Phalanx. In While Rome Burns he writes:
The place [Phalanx] is thronged with ghosts.
Ghosts of the Van Mater slaves who, back in the
early part of the i8th century, forged the nails and
hewed the beams of the barn that went up in flames
in 1919, and whose burial ground still stands between
two fields, the wooden crosses long since moldered
away. . . . Certainly the redcoats, retreating before
Washington, to the waiting ships at the Highlands,
ran across our fields. Once the potato diggers came
upon a British officer's sword. Then there is the ghost
of Mr. Greeley, who used to take his nap in a chair
on the veranda, the red bandana, which would be
thrown across his face, belling rhythmically with his
snores, and all the young fry compelled to go about
on tiptoes because the great editor was disposed to
doze .
I 86 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
Only one of the original buildings still stands. The
grand ballroom was razed in 1935. The schoolhouse is a
memory. Here "with the drab old caravansary bleak as
a skull in winter," the descendants of John Bucklin live
among ghosts and memories.
FEMININE WEAR AT PHALANX
HENRY GEORGE
FREE ACRES, A SINGLE-TAX COMMUNITY
Free Acres, a section of New Providence Township in
Union County, New Jersey, is one of several experimental
colonies founded about the turn of the 2Oth century to
demonstrate the single-tax theory. This was the fourth of
such colonies in this country. The first, Fairhope, was
established>in 1895 on Mobile Bay in Alabama. Five years
later followed Arden, in Delaware. One man alone, Fiske
Warren, a wealthy paper manufacturer, was so anxious to
spread the single-tax doctrine that he founded 13 colonies
with a total land area of 971 square miles and a popula-
tion of more than 9,000 persons. Of these, Tahanto, in
Massachusetts, and Halidon, in Maine, are among the
best-known.
187
155 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
The single-tax movement is credited to Henry George,
whose book. Progress and Poverty , caused a sensation
when it appeared in 1880. According to Henry George
Jr., "it out-sold most of the popular novels of the day.
In America and England it ran serially in the columns of
the newspapers and by 1905 more than 2,000,000 copies
had been printed." Single tax was debated in clubs and
forums and discussed in editorial columns. To many it
seemed that it was a scientific solution of the numerous
difficulties of a complex economic and social structure.
Others looked on it as just another scheme that had no
possibility of success.
Nearly every celebrity of Henry George's time had
something to say upon the subject of single tax either
for or against the plan. Tolstoy, the Russian novelist, con-
tended that "no one could possibly disagree with Progress
and Poverty" George Bernard Shaw, John Dewey and
Lincoln Steffens were admirers of Henry George and his
philosophy. Tom L. Johnson, onetime mayor of Cleve-
land, Ohio, happened to buy George's book on a railroad
train ; as a result he sold out his monopolies. Later he was
elected to Congress on a reformist program.
Many socialists, on the other hand, argued against
single tax because it was based upon the value of land,
not labor.
George Fallon, economist, asserted that land tax under
George's scheme would benefit neither agriculture, indus-
try nor business; would increase the cost of living, and
would destroy "billions of dollars of wealth of a large
number of our citizens." Another opponent, Alvin Saun-
ders Johnson, said in the Atlantic Monthly in 1914 that
the single tax was a "device for the spoliation of the mid-
dle class." He called attention to the fact that pioneers
FREE ACRES, A SINGLE-TAX COMMUNITY 1 89
who crossed the plains, enduring great hardship, did so
because the land was sure to rise in value.
Lately there has been a revival in popularity of single-
tax doctrines. In 1932 Oscar H. Geiger founded the
Henry George School of Social Science with 84 pupils.
In August 1938 the school purchased for $50,000 a build-
ing in Manhattan which will be used as a headquarters
and academy. John Dewey, the American philosopher, is
honorary president of the Henry George School. Accord-
ing to Frank Chodorov, the director of th school, the
simplicity of the doctrine is the principal reason for its
resurgence in popular thought.
At present in the United States there are 21,000 stu-
dent followers of George's philosophy, and the number is
rapidly growing. New teachers cannot be trained quickly
enough to supply the demand for instructors. Single-tax
classes are conducted in about 200 cities in this country
and seven foreign countries. Approximately 5,000 men
and women are students by correspondence.
The advocates of single tax contend that the funda-
mental cause of economic difficulties is the taxation of
industry, of profit and of income. Land, they say, alone
should be taxed, never the improvements on it. This,
they believe, would make it unprofitable for speculators
to hold land unused. Under the single-tax plan the land
belongs to the community, not to the individuals who
occupy it. Individuals pay a tax rent the amount of which
is regulated by the cost of improvements and of providing
services. As community costs rise the tax rent rises, regard-
less of whether any particular parcel of land has been
improved or not.
Under our present system, of course, speculators may
buy land in undeveloped communities, hold it unused
FREE ACRES PUTS ON A SHOW
while community improvements are made meanwhile
paying a comparatively small tax and sell their unde-
veloped land at a profit when space in the community
grows valuable. Those who believe in a single tax argue
that everyone would eventually become a landholder,
subject to taxation $ there would be plenty of land for all,
because it would be unprofitable for anyone to attempt
to speculate in land or land values. The taxes paid on the
land would furnish revenue for policing, fire protection,
national defense, schooling and all the other services pro-
vided by the government.
Free Acres cannot ever fully express Henry George's
theory as long as it is part of a state and country governed
by economic principles at variance with the single-tax idea.
But within the limits of Free Acres a certain amount of
single-tax demonstration has been in force since the com-
munity's beginning in 1910.
The land, about 60 acres originally owned by Mr.
Bolton Hall, belongs to the Free Acres Association.
Mr. Hall, a strong advocate of single tax, was one of the
founders of the colony, incorporated under the Coopera-
FREE ACRES, A SINGLE-TAX COMMUNITY 19 1
tive Act of New Jersey, which prohibits selling for profit.
The land is leased to residents on a perpetual lease. For
occupying their home sites the people of Free Acres pay a
yearly tax, or rent, to the association. The association, in
turn, pays taxes to the Township of New Providence,
to bear its share of the expense of public education, police
and fire protection and general improvements. As im-
provements have been made, the tax rent paid by the land-
holders to the Free Acres Association has risen from about
$16 an acre to about $70 or $80. The rules of the associa-
tion require that no one can lease, or rent, less than one-
half acre for a home site.
The governing body of Free Acres is the entire mem-
bership of the association, and it is known as the Free
Acres Folk. Open meetings are held monthly where all
the business of the association is discussed. Trustees and
committees for all public activities are elected annually
from the membership.
The children attend grammar school in Berkeley
Heights, and high school at the new Regional High
School at Springfield. They are gathered up each school
day by busses at the entrance to Free Acres.
Free Acres was originally begun as a summer colony.
The settlers put up simple shingle cottages, many without
cellars, and cleared only enough woodland to make room
for their homes and for roads and paths. As transportation
facilities improved many of the residents found the com-
munity life so pleasant and the woodland surroundings
so congenial that they remained throughout the year, com-
muting to their work. Many people widely known in art
and literature have been members of the Free Acres com-
munity. Some of these have given up their residence ;
others have remained and have contributed to the interest
STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
of the community life. The hand of an artist is evident in
the attractive signposts and bulletin boards, the rustic
benches and the general landscaping of the tract.
Just inside the entrance on Wood Road is the Henry
George Common, a clearing in the woodland. Here is a
rustic bulletin board on which town notices are posted.
At one side is an old farmhouse, shaded by a giant syca-
more tree said to be about 200 years old. This spot is the
community center ; here are the libraries, one for adults
and one for children, where meetings, lectures, teas, flower
shows and other affairs are held. The old building is
familiarly called "The Inn."
In front of the building a large outdoor pavilion has
been built around a huge walnut tree that rises through
the center of the floor and spreads its shadow over the
entire platform. Here dances and outdoor meetings are
held in the summertime. From this platform many men
and women prominent in public life have lectured. On
the end of the platform is a bell which is rung to call
people to town gatherings.
A gradually sloping lawn leads from the platform to a
baseball field, an archery court, a tennis court and a play-
ground with swings, rings and bars for the children. Near
the center of the colony is a swimming pool surrounded
by benches in the shade of towering old trees. Across the
road from the swimming pool is an open-air theater
framed in a setting of white birch and cedar trees. During
the summer months plays are produced by the residents,
many of whom have been professionals.
Trees are among the outstanding features and are pro-
tected by a local forestry committee which supervises their
care. Most of the members prefer to keep the natural
setting of trees, bushes and wild flowers, with stepping-
FREE ACRES, A SINGLE-TAX COMMUNITY 193
stone or gravel paths for their yards. Free Acres has an
active Garden Guild which encourages members to plant
only those flowers that will fit into this natural setting.
The winding gravel or dirt roads through the colony
are cared for by the association. There are no sidewalks
and no street illumination. At night each foot traveler
carries his own light. Though the surroundings are sim-
ple, almost primitive, there are more than 100 persons
who find Free Acres a congenial year-round residence.
In summer the population is about doubled. Although
many of the old cabins and bungalows put up by the
original settlers still remain, modern improvements such
as electric refrigeration and oil heating systems have been
installed. There is delivery service from all the leading
metropolitan stores.
After 27 years, there are still many of those associated
with the beginnings of Free Acres and other similarly
organized communities who feel that the single-tax idea
must be kept alive, because it is based on Henry George's
simple and forceful expression, "liberty is justice and
justice is the natural law."
CO-OP
The two green pine trees in a circle and the word
"Co-Op" are new to the New Jersey scene, newer than
the George Washington Bridge or modernistic architecture
much newer than radio. Yet they represent a century-
old idea. This sign over a store front or displayed on
canned goods, clothing, oil cans, or any one of a number
of commodities indicates that a group of people are apply-
ing to their everyday living the great principle of coopera-
tion. It means that they have taken the initiative of going
directly to the source of supply for the things they need,
so that they may get the best value for their money.
It was the depression that gave impetus to the coopera-
tive movement in America, though it had been growing
steadily in Europe for generations. In 1934 the word
a co-op" was almost unknown. Today it is displayed over
sixteen stores in New Jersey j and there is an increasing
number of groups buying goods under the cooperative
plan. Throughout the United States the "Co-op" sign
may be seen on clothing stores or apartment houses,
bakeries or gasoline stations, restaurants or coal trucks.
Since its birth 100 years ago the cooperative movement
has appealed to people who are looking for a practical
solution of their everyday problem of securing food, cloth-
ing and shelter. It was a group of weavers in the little
town of Rochdale, England, who, faced with the problem
of chronic poverty, worked out a plan so practical that
194
CO-OP 195
today it affects the lives of 120,000,000 families in every
country of the world.
The Rochdale weavers decided that if they would, as
a group, buy food, clothing and other necessities directly
from the farmer, manufacturer or wholesale dealer in
large quantities, and then distribute the goods among
themselves in their own little shop, they would save ex-
penses. In this way each member would obtain goods at
cost. What was saved after deducting the expense of
freight and handling could be divided among the
members.
These weavers never had enough of the bare necessities
of life. It took them a whole year to save 28, equal to
about $135. With this small capital they opened a tiny
store in a deserted warehouse in Toad Lane, arousing the
scorn of neighbors and local tradesmen. But this was only
a beginning. They called themselves the Rochdale Society
of Equitable Pioneers and declared that "as soon as pos-
sible this society shall proceed to arrange the powers of
production, distribution, education and government."
The Rochdale enterprise was so successful that the news
spread, and other stores were opened. The society then
established a wholesale department to serve the various
stores. Next they built factories to make many of the arti-
cles they bought. Even that was not enough the whole-
sale branch bought tea plantations in India and great
wheat ranches in Canada to supply the food prepared and
packed in the factories. All these properties were owned
and controlled by the consumers who obtained the prod-
ucts through the society's stores.
The rules adopted by the Rochdale society for govern-
ing their organization were so simple and practical that
they have been used in every successful consumer co-
'iSMV
iif.K*
i* I
i I Ni
A CO-OP STORE
operative group since that time with only slight changes.
These rules, called the Rochdale Principles > are the first
thing taught to a new cooperative member. They are based
on individual rights which we today would say are essen-
tial to a democracy, although several of them did not
become a part of democratic government until years later.
One of the most far-seeing of the Rochdale principles
is that providing for the sale of goods at prevailing prices.
Since it is impossible to decide beforehand exactly how
CO-OP 197
much it will cost to run a store, it is more likely that ex-
penses will be covered if the prevailing price is charged.
Whatever surplus results goes back to the consumer any-
way. In the second place, if a cooperative should start
underselling it would be the signal for a price war. Young
"Co-ops" have not the financial strength to stand this type
of competition.
Sweden, where more than 20% of the retail and whole-
sale trade is carried on through cooperatives, has supplied
a notable exception to this rule. In fields where monopoly
control has kept the price of goods unnecessarily high, the
cooperatives have stepped in and, by producing as well as
distributing, have lowered prices for all consumers.
In order to force down the artificially controlled price
of electric bulbs the Swedish cooperative announced that
they would build their own factory. Immediately the price
dropped 10^ a bulb; and it was announced that bulbs
would be distributed for nothing if the co-ops persisted in
their plan. The cooperatives replied that they would con-
sider this a very good result of their investment. Obvi-
ously, no private interest would consider investing a mil-
lion dollars in a factory just to let it stand idle. But these
co-op members were also consumers. If their threat re-
sulted in the production by a private industry of bulbs
below cost, it would be to their advantage. No monopoly
can continue to sell below cost indefinitely. It is merely a
strategy to force small competitors out of the market. The
Swedish cooperative was strong enough to stand this type
of competition, since its members were getting the benefit
of a reduced price on a commodity. The great Luma fac-
tory is now distributing bulbs to co-ops in all the Scandi-
navian countries.
Today half of the families in England are members of
190 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
consumer cooperatives, and the movement is growing
steadily. They employ in all their branches 450,000
workers. In most countries the cooperative provides not
only consumers' goods but also banking, insurance, hous-
ing, medical care and even burial services.
The various local groups in the United States are
building up a strong consumer cooperative movement.
These groups have united to form regional organizations
which, in turn, form a national body. This national body
is divided into several groups to coordinate the business
of the smaller groups. National Cooperatives is a national
wholesale organization. They have copyrighted the term
"co-op," which can be used only by member groups organ-
ized on Rochdale principles. In addition to the central
business organization, there is a national organization, the
Cooperative League of the United States, whose concern
it is to provide an educational program. Their insignia is
two green pine trees in a circle, the use of which is allowed
only to member groups. In other words, in order to use
the term co-op and the pine tree insignia, a cooperative
group must meet the requirements of both national organ-
izations.
Established groups are laying out educational programs
embracing everything from art to economics, as well as
the history and principles of consumer cooperation. Those
groups that can afford it employ full-time educational
directors to take charge of the education of their youth
as well as their adult members, management and em-
ployees.
Buying on specification is an important part of the co-op
plan. For example, the Wholesale purchases co-op soaps
made according to a formula drawn up by chemist mem-
bers, the best it is possible to make. Goods bearing the
CO-OP 199
co-op label are made to meet the demands of the consumer
for quality at a reasonable price. There is no incentive to
cheapen materials in order to make more money. As one
of the leading farm cooperators say of their fertilizer
factory, "We have never made a pound of fertilizer to
sell; it has all been produced to use."
Before the depression cooperation was concentrated in
farming areas and in foreign groups in the urban popu-
lation. New Jersey has several long-established foreign
groups and stores in the rural sections. Outstanding among
these is the Germania Fruit Growers Union and Coopera-
tive. Started in 1888 by a group of farmers to fill a press-
ing community need, the store has prospered consistently.
Today it occupies a modern three-story structure and sup-
plies, at nearly wholesale prices, fertilizer, coal, farm
implements, meat, groceries and many other commodi-
ties to a widespread community in Atlantic County.
The New Jersey Consumers Cooperative, Inc., is one of
the most successful of the new eastern suburban coopera-
tives. In 1935 small groups of white collar and profes-
sional workers in Madison and Summit, who had been
providing themselves with coal, organized a co-op and
opened a grocery store. An affiliated store was opened in
Caldwell, and the first year the business amounted to
$52,000. The second year business doubled. The organ-
ization now operates stores in Fair Lawn, Caldwell, East
Orange and Madison.
In 1936 President Roosevelt sent a commission abroad
to make a study of the cooperatives in Europe. The com-
mittee's report supplies an estimate of the long-run effect
on other businesses. From Denmark "Their total effect
is so much to improve the situation of a community that
it could reasonably be said that there is more business and
2OO STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
more work to be done as a result of cooperative enterprise
than there would have been without it ... Business in
general is better and industrial production steadier as a
result of cooperative enterprise . . ."
EGG AUCTION
Chicken farmers, in addition to the natural hazards of
drought, storms and plant and animal disease, have had
to face further difficulties in the marketing of their prod-
uce. Small producers in particular have been forced to
sell their goods at prices set more or less arbitrarily by
dealers who rode up and down the country bargaining
independently with each farmer.
In 1930 a group of nine men from Flemington decided
that the poultry farmer should be enabled to deal directly
with the retailer and thus get a fair price for eggs. They
formed an organization called the Flemington Auction
Market Cooperative Association, Inc. The idea appealed
so strongly to the citizens of Flemington that the Chamber
of Commerce offered the free use of a cellar for the first
meetings, and a local printer offered to print the necessary
announcements without charge. The organizers of the auc-
tion were prepared to invest $500 to launch the new
scheme j but from the first it met with such great success
that not one cent was called for. At first the auctions were
confined entirely to eggs, but in the second year poultry
was added, and in 1935 livestock was offered for sale.
Farmers who live in New Jersey and produce their
goods here are invited to bring their eggs to the auction,
held twice a week, where they are graded for color, size
and quality by an inspector from the New Jersey Depart-
ment of Agriculture. Retail dealers bid for the eggs as
they are put up by the auctioneer. The farmer receives
about 95% of the proceeds immediately j the rest is re-
tained to meet the expenses of the auction. At the end of
2O2 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
the year, after all expenses are deducted and a certain
amount set aside for improvements, profits are divided
among the farmers in proportion to the amount of goods
they have brought for sale.
The first year's business left a profit of $1,818.02 for
the members of the association. So rapidly have the profits
grown that at the end of two years the auction felt justified
in investing in land and a building.
Today it has exchanged its small cellar quarters for a
large, two-story brick building close to the Flemington
Railroad station, with lofts, salesrooms, offices and ship-
ping platform. It takes an office force of from 30 to 35
to conduct the business of the auction and keep the ac-
counts of the members. There is a membership of more
than 1,000.
The business of the auction is in the hands of a manager.
He keeps in close touch with the farmers so that they will
be thoroughly informed on everything done by the board
of directors and the business staff, and will feel free to
take an active part in the affairs of the association. There
is an annual meeting of all members to discuss general
business and to elect the board of directors. Details of
finance and administration are handled by the nine board
members.
The auction itself is very interesting to watch. It is held
in a large room equipped with folding wooden seats, much
like classroom chairs. The auctioneer stands on a platform
in front of a large double blackboard. Behind him a clerk,
writing as fast as he can and he has to write fast to keep
up with the speed of the auctioneer posts a list of the
particular lot of goods that is being offered. The auction-
eer talks so fast that, until one becomes accustomed to the
sound, it is impossible to understand what he is saying.
EGG AUCTION 203
The dealers sitting in the chairs facing him, to all ap-
pearances, are quite indifferent to the proceedings on the
platform. But as one looks around, a finger will be seen
lifted here and there to indicate that the bid has been
raised. When the auctioneer is satisfied that he has re-
ceived a fair price for the goods, he signifies the closing of
the bid by clapping his hands together.
Meanwhile, another clerk is keeping a close watch on
the audience to see which dealer gets the goods. When a
dealer has completed his purchase he steps to the front of
the room, receives a slip indicating the lot numbers of the
eggs he has bought, walks to a window and pays cash,
and then goes downstairs to receive the lot and take it
away at his own expense. The whole proceeding is carried
on with businesslike efficiency and speed.
Before the establishment of this method of selling, the
farmer sold his goods mostly through wholesale dealers,
who in turn sold them to stores or route salesmen. The
farmer received as little as 86% of the wholesale selling
price. Retailers then added anywhere from 8^ to 10^ a
dozen to the wholesale price; and the farmer had to be
content with the difference. Now the auctioneer can hold
the price up to meet the market price in the large cities,
and all the farmer has to pay for the service is the actual
expense of running the auction. In addition, he gets a
return from the yearly profits of the auction.
So successful has the cooperative idea proved that today
about 70% of the eggs sold in New Jersey find their way
to the market through this plan. There are now auctions
at Mount Holly, Vineland, Paterson and Hightstown set
up on the Flemington plan. The Flemington auction,
however, the largest of its kind in the world, does about
45% of the total business.
THE SEEING EYE
Coeducation is a term that is commonly applied to the
education of men and women in the same institution and
under the same terms. There is, however, in the village
of Whippany near Morristown, New Jersey, another kind
of coeducational institution a college for people and
dogs. This is The Seeing Eye, where dogs are trained to
act as guides for the blind j where men and women are
trained to discard canes and the shuffling, hesitating gait,
and to rely on the intelligence and devotion of their dumb
guides.
The dogs are not merely trained ; they are actually edu-
cated. They learn to obey commands, but only when it is
safe for their masters that they do so. To develop this
high standard requires as much as three months of pains-
taking education. Only those dogs especially adapted to
the purpose are selected. Most are of the German shep-
herd breed j females are preferred because they are more
docile than the male, more tractable and less likely to be
drawn into a battle. One of the hardest lessons Seeing
Eye dogs must learn is not to fight. No matter how deeply
aroused is their canine sense of justice, they must control
their inherent instinct to have it out with the enemy. To
a Seeing Eye dog alumnus her master's safety is all
important.
Every dog must pass a rigid health and intelligence test
before being accepted for training. For example, small
torpedoes are exploded to see if the dog continues to be
204
Courtesy L. Bamberger & Co.
THE SEEING EYE
2O6 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
frightened at the sound. This test reveals whether the
animal will become scared by sudden sharp sounds such as
backfiring automobiles.
The peak of the course is reached when the dog learns
to guide her master away from impediments, such as awn-
ings and low branches. A bit of string is stretched before
the dog, too low to permit her to pass under. She invari-
ably walks around it. Little by little the string barrier is
raised until she can pass under it, although the master is
stopped. Having passed under the obstacle the dog then
turns to see what is preventing her master from following.
Again and again this lesson has to be repeated until the
dog learns to circle the obstacle. Finally she is able to judge
whether any obstruction is high enough for the master to
pass under safely.
Obedience is the mark of any well-trained dog. But the
Seeing Eye dogs must learn also to disobey when the
master gives a command that might lead to disaster.
They learn to obey the commands, "forward, left,
right," only as long as it is safe for the blind person. For
instance, the man may order the dog to cross a street. But
she sees a car speeding toward her. Regardless of the
order, she stands still. When the car has passed she looks
in both directions and, when sure that the way is clear,
ventures across.
The dog wears a harness with a rigid U-shaped rubber
handle placed conveniently for the blind man. This inti-
mate contact enables each to be instantly aware of the
slightest movement of the other.
The blind person must also be educated. His education
may be even more difficult than that of the dog, since it is
first necessary to erase former habits of uncertainty and
fear. When he arrives at the institution he is first allowed
THE SEEING EYE
to become familiar with his own room. Then he is taken
out on the grounds and whirled around, time after time,
until he is able to reorient himself.
After he has learned confidence he is assigned a dog
guide. When they have become acquainted the two pupils
are taken out into the streets of Morristown, to gain ex-
perience in stopping at curbs, passing broken sections of
sidewalk and other obstructions, and crossing traffic-
covered streets. When both have passed this final test they
are sent out into the world as one individual, fit to earn
their living in a competitive society. As in every good edu-
cation, both have been subjected to a rigid discipline, with
approving words and caresses as a reward for the dog
when she acts properly.
The Seeing Eye project was the idea of Mrs. Harrison
Eustis. On her travels through Europe she saw the Ger-
man shepherd dog performing remarkable tasks. The
German and Swiss police in particular made special use
of the breed. What was more important, animals of this
type showed touching faithfulness in leading men blinded
in the World War.
Mrs. Eustis was so impressed that she determined to
see if more of the dogs might not be trained to lead the
blind. At Fortunate Fields, a pleasant retreat in Switzer-
land, she experimented for some years with these dogs.
Mrs. Eustis was assisted in her work by Elliott S. Hum-
phries, who had had a great deal of experience in training
animals for circus work.
Then in 1928 a blind young Southerner, Morris S.
Franks, learned of their experiments through an article in
an American magazine, and wrote to offer his assistance.
Mrs. Eustis urged him to visit Fortunate Fields. He did
so, and when he felt confident in the judgment of his dog
2O8 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
he returned to America. The dog behaved exactly as she
had been trained. Delighted with the results, Franks wrote
to Mrs. Eustis, asking that she carry on her work in
America. The result was the establishment of The Seeing
Eye. Today Franks directs the institution and tours the
country with his dog. His first dog died in June 1938 at
the age of n.
So, in a spacious and pleasant residence in the rolling
countryside near Morristown, Mrs. Eustis maintains her
school for men and dogs. The men come looking eagerly
for their "eyes." The dogs are procured either by pur-
chase or donations. Many people give their female shep-
herd pups to the institution. Churches and schools help
the work along. All donations are accepted j although only
a nominal charge is made for training of dog and man,
many of the blind are unable to pay at once. Time is
allowed for payment in small installments while the
graduates are getting started on the important business
of earning a living.
The Seeing Eye is intended to be neither a charitable
institution nor a subject for sentimental writers. The direc-
tors are interested only in the solution of a difficult
problem.
JERSEY HOMESTEADS
In exchange for a crowded tenement, a pleasant house
and garden ; for a cluttered city street, sunny fields and
cool green woods; for an ill-lighted, stuffy workroom, a
modern glass and concrete factory set in the open country
these and the opportunity to share in the profits of their
own labor are the advantages enjoyed by the group of
families that has joined the Jersey Homesteads, a co-
operative colony near Hightstown.
The colony occupies 1,275 acres of beautiful rolling
farm land and forest five miles southeast of Hightstown
in Monmouth County. A factory is the center from which
spread out, fanlike, the homes of the workers, the stores
and the school. A wide belt of farm land and forest be-
longing to the colony encircles the community. This in-
sures freedom from the encroachment of industrial or
commercial activities.
The colony, was started by the Department of the In-
terior of the Federal Government, at the suggestion and
under the sponsorship of a group of prominent men in-
terested in social betterment. It was designed as an experi-
ment in the decentralization of industry, to enable workers
to live in pleasant homes, near their work, with enough
land on which to raise some of their own food, and so
supplement their incomes. The colonists have organized
all the work of the community and the administration of
its affairs on a cooperative basis.
Like Brook Farm, the North American Phalanx and
209
SUNLIT CORNER OF A HOMESTEAD KITCHEN
other experiments in communal living, Jersey Homesteads
is designed to find a simple and happy solution for the
complexities of modern industrial life.
Construction was started in May 1933 under the Reset-
tlement Administration. In August of the next year the
first families moved in. In planning the colony it was
decided that 200 families or about 1,000 people would
provide all the workers necessary to run the factory, farm,
school, store, post office, etc.
The greatest care was used in selecting the colonists.
First of all they had to be of good character, and each
worker had to be expert in his particular field, whether
he be farmer or hat trimmer. Second, everyone had to
pass a rigid health examination. Finally, each family had
to be able to contribute $500 toward financing the venture.
The colony is run on the same democratic principles as
WINDOWS REACH FROM FLOOR TO CEILING
a club, each member having only one vote. To date only
two families have dropped their membership.
At present the garment factory is the center of the
colony. It is designed to furnish jobs for 160 garment
workers making men's, women's and children's clothing.
The workers are all members of the International Ladies
Garment Workers Union or the Amalgamated Clothing
Workers of America and are paid according to the union
wage scale.
The factory is a one-story structure of glass, steel and
concrete, sleek as an airplane. This air-conditioned build-
ing, one of the most modern garment factories in the
United States, cost $95,000. It is planned to provide the
most efficient operation consistent with the safety and
health of the workers. There follow in successive steps
around the building the receiving platform and room, the
212 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
stockroom, the cutting room where 75 to 150 garments
are cut at one time, the underpressing, the finishing, the
final pressing, the finished stock room, and so back to the
shipping room, which is shared with the receiving room.
The factory has a capacity of 1,500 coats and suits and
1,000 dresses a week.
One corner is devoted to hat making, with a capacity
of 200 to 300 dozen hats a week. There are also a shop
meeting room, a directors' room and retail department.
The association maintains a showroom and designers in
New York.
During the first year, 1936-37, the factory disposed of
its output through the New York market. The following
year they distributed through consumer cooperatives in
Utah, Wisconsin, Illinois, Kansas, Ohio, Pennsylvania,
New Jersey, New York and New England. This experi-
ment proved successful enough to warrant setting up an
organization, composed of representatives of the regional
cooperative groups and one representative from the work-
ers, which has taken over the management of the factory
as well as the distribution of its output. In this way the
consumer, through his regional board, is taking his part
in controlling the production of the garment he buys and
is sharing proportionately in any saving that is effected.
The factory turns over to the regional bodies any money
that remains after the expenses of manufacturing have
been met. This money is turned over by each regional
group to the local consumer cooperatives, after deducting
the cost of distribution. The consumer, in turn, receives
a rebate from his local group, in proportion to the amount
of his purchases.
The workers' homes are good, sturdy examples of mod-
ern architecture, for the most part one-story and flat-
CONCRETE WALLS FIREPROOF AND DURABLE
roofed, designed for efficient, comfortable and gracious
living. Windows reach from floor to ceiling. Each house
has a living room, dining room, kitchen and three or four
bedrooms. All are equipped with hardwood floors, gas
and electricity, electric refrigerators, oil burners, and are
air-conditioned. There is an attached garage and a work-
room for garden and carpenter tools. A plot of ground
no smaller than 100 by 300 feet surrounds each house,
enough space to allow each occupant to grow whatever
flowers or vegetables he desires. The homes will be paid
for over a period not exceeding 30 years at a cost of $18
to $24 a month.
A space of about 500 feet between the backs of the
houses is ploughed, sown and cultivated by community-
owned machinery. The families have decided on the vege-
tables which they all want. These are grown and cared
214 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
for by the community, but the produce belongs exclusively
to the family on whose land 'it is raised.
The cooperative farm of about 500 acres gives work to
six members. It has been so successful that wages of $25
a week have been paid the year round and a considerable
amount returned to the credit of the whole colony. The
produce has either been sold to other members or disposed
of through a farmers' cooperative auction market in
Hightstown. The quality of the vegetables has been
praised, particularly the Irish potatoes, which in 1936
were judged second best of all raised in Monmouth,
Mercer or Middlesex Counties. The first year's crops
showed a profit of $17,000 after repaying a Government
loan of $26,000. During the planting and harvesting sea-
sons the women help in the fields. When work is slack in
the factory the coat makers and milliners join the farm
workers.
A cooperative poultry project has been started with
3,000 chickens. This gives work to two members of the
colony. The colony has also acquired a dairy which is run
cooperatively like all the other community projects.
A consumer cooperative store owned by all the mem-
bers as consumers is run on the same principles which
govern other such ventures the world over. The savings
were 8^ on the dollar after the first four months of busi-
ness. The young people of the colony opened in the spring
of 1938 a small cooperative tearoom which was needed
to serve the many visitors to the colony.
The two utilities which serve the community coopera-
tively and which eventually will be owned by them
water supply and sewage disposal are models for their
size and have attracted the attention of engineers from
all over the country.
JERSEY HOMESTEADS 21 5
A fine school building with a capacity of 500 opened in
the fall of 1937; in addition to the usual subjects the
school offers training for future workers in the colony.
A nursery school is conducted in one of the old farmhouses
that stood on the property. A community center has been
established in a farmhouse, and the factory is used for
movies and dances on Saturday evenings.
At first the surrounding Monmouth County residents
looked askance at this community of pioneers. But little
by little they are coming to accept them. Neighboring
farmers have been impressed with the methods of the city-
bred newcomers; and the Hightstown people are coming
out to buy clothes from the factory.
Jersey Homesteads, now incorporated as a borough
with its own mayor and council, welcomes visitors inter-
ested in studying this new adventure in social and indus-
trial planning.
SERVICE FOR THE PUBLIC
SAFEGUARDS OF OUR COAST
New Jersey, except for a small strip along the northern
border, is surrounded by water, nearly 300 miles of which
is navigable. The gentle coast line is bordered by many
miles of broad beaches where children romp safely in the
breakers j it is indented by coves and inlets that offer safe
harbors for gay yachts and fishing boats. But beyond the
level shore are treacherous shoals and sand bars that have
been the dread of mariners from the days of Henry
Hudson and the Dutch, Swedish and English settlers who
followed him. The newcomers to these shores in the early
days, without a signal to warn them, took their chances
on being grounded on a sand bar and battered to pieces by
the waves.
The first American lighthouse, built to protect the ship-
ping of Boston, was hailed as an epoch-making event
when it was lighted September 17, 1716. Sixteen oil lamps
placed in groups of four furnished the illumination. The
cost of maintaining the light and the salary of the keeper
were paid from a tax imposed on all vessels putting into
the harbor. In the next 40 years two more beacon towers
were built along the rocky New England coast.
As late as 1761 there was no warning signal or other
aid to navigation in New York Harbor. The merchants
of the city organized a lottery to raise funds for the con-
struction of a lighthouse and bought four acres of land on
Sandy Hook. So apathetic was the public that a second
219
22O STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
lottery was necessary to produce enough money to com-
plete the project.
On June 1 i, 1764, the Sandy Hook light first shone out
over the dark ocean. The nine-story, octagonal masonry
tower, rising to a height of 85 feet, was a notable sky-
scraper at the time. The light of 48 oil blazes set in glass-
sided lanterns made it the most powerful on the continent.
Of all the early Colonial lights the sturdy Sandy Hook
tower with its brick-lined walls, seven feet thick at the
base, is the only one remaining intact and in service today.
At the time of its construction it stood about 500 feet
from the northern extremity of the Hook. The tides of
almost 175 years have piled the sand around it so that
today the shore line extends a quarter of a mile beyond
the tower.
When the British fleet gathered off New York Harbor
in 1776, a party of adventurous Americans dismantled the
light so as to confuse the enemy. A British landing party
was forthwith dispatched to restore it. Shortly afterward
the Americans tried again to destroy the light by using
a small field gun mounted on an open boat. They suc-
ceeded in damaging the tower somewhat before they were
driven off.
One of the first agencies established by the Congress
of the United States in 1789 was the Lighthouse Service.
At that time there were twelve lighthouses in operation.
The Sandy Hook tower was onej nine were in New Eng-
land waters j one was at Cape Henlopen, Delaware, and
one at Charleston, South Carolina.
In 1903 lighthouse work was placed under the Depart-
ment of Commerce, and in 1910 the present Bureau of
Lighthouses was created under the same department to
direct the establishment, construction, maintenance and
SANDY HOOK LIGHTHOUSE
222 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
operation of all lighthouses, lightships, buoys, markers
and other navigation aids on the 40,000 miles of seacoast,
the Great Lakes and navigable rivers of the country.
Supervision is divided among 1 7 districts with a personnel
of 5,050 employees, 42 of whom are employed in the
bureau at Washington. The seacoast of New Jersey lies
in the Third District, which includes the waters of Rhode
Island (excepting Narragansett Bay), Connecticut, New
York and New Jersey, with headquarters at Staten Island.
The Delaware Bay and River waters are under the Fourth
District, with headquarters in Philadelphia.
The efficiency of the lighting devices is an important
factor in lighthouse equipment. The older lighthouses had
to depend on simple whale or coal oil lanterns set in front
of reflectors to direct the beam. In 1822 a French engineer,
Augustin Fresnel, developed a lens consisting of a series
of prisms to collect and concentrate the light. This was an
important step in lengthening the beam. Not until the
beginning of the century did electricity come into use for
lighting, although there are still lighthouses operating
with vapor oil lamps. Electricity is also used to revolve
the lens to produce a flashing light. In the past the
lens was revolved by a clockwork device controlled by
weights which the lighthouse keeper wound every few
hours.
Lighthouses placed on exposed points of land or shift-
ing shoals are at the mercy of the very dangers they are
set to guard. There have been many lighthouses literally
washed into the sea as their foundations crumbled under
the pounding waves or collapsed beneath crushing ice
jams. The towers have to be constructed to withstand the
force of the wind that batters at them from all directions.
Though they are designed for utility rather than beauty,
SAFEGUARDS OF OUR COAST 223
many lighthouses are notable for the graceful lines of the
tapering towers, others are famous for skillful design and
ingenious construction.
The color of the light and the length and frequency of
the flash are significant features that help the mariner to
differentiate between the beacons and thus confirm his
location. For the same reason the lighthouses are painted
in varying colors and designs. Special coloring also helps
to make the structures stand out more clearly from their
backgrounds.
The most powerful light in the country is at Navesink
Lighthouse on Beacon Hill, Highlands, New Jersey. It
has a 9,ooo,ooo-candlepower beam. Two lights were estab-
lished here in 1828, and the first Fresnel lens used in
America was installed in 1841. The present stone structure
with two towers, looking much like an old fortress, was
built in 1862. The electric lamp in the south tower, which
is the only one in use today, is set in a lens weighing over
seven tons that revolves in ten seconds and gives a flash
every five seconds. Its light can be seen 22 miles at sea,
beyond which it is obscured by the curvature of the earth.
It has been reported, however, that its beam has been seen
in the sky 70 miles from shore. Since its establishment
Navesink has been considered the principal light for New
York Harbor, although it has lost much of its importance
with the improvement and increase in the number of
floating aids lighted buoys, fog signals, sounding buoys
and lightships.
The Absecon light in Alantic City was abandoned in
1933 an d three years later deeded to the city, which
maintains it as a landmark. When it was built in 1854 it
was placed at what was thought to be a safe distance from
the shore, 1,300 feet, but the sea kept tearing at the shore
224 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
until the waves were breaking within 75 feet of the tower.
In 1876 the United States Government built stone jetties
to protect it. Then the tides brought in tons and tons of
sand until there was $10,000,000 worth of new building
property around old Absecon. Now, instead of being
lapped by the ocean, the lighthouse is safely tucked away
among summer houses and is no longer useful.
The 1 67-foot tower, painted in three alternating bands
of black and white, is set on a foundation of piling 30 feet
thick. The light may be seen for more than 20 miles at
sea. On the lighthouse grounds are a Coast Guard and a
Weather Bureau Station.
At Barnegat Inlet, where the sea pours past the south-
ern tip of Long Beach Island into Barnegat Bay, is the
now abandoned Barnegat Lighthouse, one of the most
famous beacons along the Atlantic Coast. The first tower
built at this point in 1834 was brought down by the sea.
The present structure was built in 1858 under the direc-
tion of the father of F. Hopkinson Smith, the famous
author and playwright. In fact, F. Hopkinson Smith him-
self was an engineer who at first did all his writing in his
spare time. It was while working on the lighthouse at
Barnegat City that he started his well-known book, The
Tides of Barnegat.
When the lighthouse was first built it was about a mile
back from the shore, but today the bay and ocean meet
at its very feet in Barnegat Inlet. Its foundations have
been weakened by so many storms that in 1930 the Fed-
eral Government finally decided to abandon it.
The State of New Jersey bought the lighthouse from
the Federal Government for $i and raised funds to fill
in around the base of the tower and so preserve the famous
old landmark. This work is being carried on by the State
BARNEGAT LIGHTHOUSE
v
Bureau of Commerce and Navigation. An automatic light
still remains burning as a warning to sea travelers. Visitors
are welcome.
The Cape May Lighthouse, built in 1823 to guard the
entrance to Delaware Bay, was the second in the State. Its
site has long since vanished in the sea. A second tower,
built in 1847, was a ^ so swallowed by the ocean. When
the present lighthouse was built in 1859, ^ was placed
i ,OOO feet inland. Near the tower are the buildings of
the U. S. Coast Guard Life Saving Station. The 1 45-foot
white tower with its red lantern stands out boldly against
226 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
the sky. Its light, flashing every 30 seconds, can be seen
1 8 miles out to sea.
The Brandy wine Shoal Lighthouse, erected in 1914
eight miles from the entrance of Delaware Bay, marks
a dangerous shoal where two lighthouses have succumbed
to the pounding of the waves and the grinding of the ice.
For years the spot was marked by a lightship. The aban-
doned lighthouse is still standing close to the new one. A
225-ton reinforced concrete pier forms the foundation for
the circular concrete structure. The beacon itself stands
at the center of a group of nine iron legs. Surrounding the
entire structure are 30 heavy iron piles driven into the
sea bed.
Fourteen Foot Bank Lighthouse, lying just a little above
Brandywine Shoal about in the middle of Delaware Bay,
is one of the greatest achievements of lighthouse engi-
neers. The lighthouse is named for the 14 feet of water
covering these dangerous shoals. At this point, in 1887,
was built the first lighthouse in the United States on a
submarine foundation. A timber working chamber built on
shore was encased in an iron cylinder and sunk 20 feet
into the bed of the river. Through the center of the
cylinder rose an air shaft through which the workmen
entered the working chamber where they dug out the
sand, which was blown out by air pressure. Eight men
working in four-hour shifts sank the caisson 35 feet into
the bed of the shoal at the rate of about one and one-half
feet a day. As the caisson sank into the river bed, the walls
of the cylinder were built higher to keep them above the
level of the water. The completed cylinder was then filled
with concrete and upon it was built the keeper's dwelling
topped by the light tower.
Opposite Cohansey River in the middle of Delaware
SHIP JOHN SHOAL LIGHT
Bay, east of the main ship channel, is Ship John Light-
house, one of the oldest lighthouses on the Delaware,
built in 1877. The lighthouse is named for the ship John,
which grounded on the shoal in the early winter of 1797.
By spring it had been cut through by heavy ice and storms
and gradually it settled into the sand. Drift accumulating
around the sunken hulk has increased the area of the
shoal, which is marked by a 65-foot tower surmounted
by a light visible for 13 miles. The tower is surrounded
by 3,700 tons of stone for protection from ice and the sea.
One of the souvenirs at the lighthouse is the wooden
figurehead of the ship ]ohn y which, along with much of
the assorted cargo, was salvaged from the wreck. In the
Museum of the Cape May Historical and Genealogical
Society at Cape May Court House is the bronze frame
of the ship's rudder, which was caught in an oyster dredge
and brought to the surface by Captain Zadok Sharp, who
presented the relic to the museum in 1930.
228 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
Lightships
The first lightship in the country was moored seven
miles off Sandy Hook in 1823 at the entrance of New
York Harbor. It was known as the Sandy Hook Light-
ship until 1908, when its name was changed to Ambrose
to identify it with the Ambrose Channel which it now
marks. Though this ship is not within New Jersey waters,
it is one of the links in the chain of navigation aids for
New York Harbor.
Three lightships are anchored in New Jersey waters.
Scotland Lightship, three miles off Sandy Hook, was
placed in 1868 to mark the wreck of the steamer Scotland.
The encumbrance has long since been removed, but the
Scotland Lightship has been kept in service as an addi-
tional safeguard. Barnegat Lightship, the most recent of
the New Jersey lightships, took over the functions of the
abandoned Barnegat Lighthouse in 1930. Five Fathom
Bank Lightship, 16 miles southeast of Cape May Point,
was established in 1839. In a hurricane that raged for
two days, August 23 and 24, 1893, the lightship stationed
at this point foundered. Four of the crew were lost.
Unless relieved, a lightship is not allowed to leave her
station on any pretext. The more serious the weather con-
ditions, the more important it is that her light and fog
signals be kept in operation. There are many accounts of
terrific hardships suffered by the crews of these lonely
guardians during ferocious storms or dense fogs.
Lightships are placed in exposed positions at the mercy
of gales and cross-currents. To keep them at their station
they are equipped with mushroom anchors weighing up to
7,000 pounds with iron or steel chains in some cases as
long as 900 feet. A modern lightship has the advantage
f
Courtesy Bu. Lighthouses, Wash.
SCOTLAND LIGHT, SANDY HOOK
of engines to relieve the strain on the mooring during a
hard storm and radio to communicate with shore stations
and ships at sea in case a storm drives it from its position.
Great advances have been made in the design and
equipment of lightships since the first small boats were
towed out and anchored at harbor entrances or dangerous
points and left at their stations without a crew. Someone
had to go out each day to see that the light was kept
burning.
The modern, snub-nosed, sturdy ship, designed to ride
out every kind of weather and withstand every strain,
is a more comforting than beautiful sight. The dark hulk
bobbing serenely on the waves or dimly glimpsed through
the thick curtain of fog, its name painted in large letters
on its side, assures the navigator of his position. From the
tall masts, which in the larger ships raise the light 57 feet
above the water, the flashing signal can be seen 14 to
20 miles at sea.
230 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
In addition to fog signals, all lightships are equipped
with a radio beacon, which sends out an assigned dot and
dash signal which can be picked up 100 miles or more at
sea by any vessel equipped with the proper radio receiving
apparatus. By this device an approaching vessel, even
though far below the horizon and out of sight and sound
of the lightship's other signals, can keep a check on its
course.
Depending on the size of the ship and the importance
of the station, the crew varies from 6 to 15 men. Except
in the stormy season, when no one is allowed to leave the
ship, the work is arranged so that the men have ample
shore leave to compensate them for the monotony and
loneliness of their life. The crews of the lightships have
the most liberal vacation allowance of any men in the
service. Time on duty and ashore is arranged in rotation
so that each man has a maximum of 90 days' annual leave
without interfering with the operation of the ship.
At regular intervals each ship must make a trip to the
nearest depot to be overhauled. Meanwhile a relief ship
takes its place, sending out the same signals. Not for a
moment is the station allowed to go unguarded.
Lighthouse tenders, the messenger boys of the service,
carry supplies and equipment to all lightships and light-
houses in addition to inspecting and placing the various
buoys, markers and other aids. In the stormy season special
care is taken that the lightships have a full supply of food
and equipment, in case they are cut off from the shore
by a protracted spell of bad weather.
Before the coast was amply provided with lightships
and lighthouses, the shoals off New Jersey were a grave-
yard for ships, shipwrecked sailors and passengers. Among
the many shipwrecks with dreadful loss of life were those
SAFEGUARDS OF OUR COAST 231
of the passenger ships Powhatan and New Era in the
i86o's. In the former 311 lives were lost, and 260 in
the latter.
The duties of the men in the lighthouse service do not
include lifesaving. This work is delegated to the Coast
Guard service, which has 39 stations along the coast
equipped with devices for saving the lives of bathers from
the shore and of shipwrecked travelers. Nevertheless,
because of the exposed and isolated positions of light-
houses and lightships, there have been many instances of
rescues undertaken voluntarily and at great risk. Employ-
ees receive no remuneration for such hardships endured
or dangers faced. Commendation by the Department of
Commerce, or, in rare instances, the award of a medal
are the only rewards for deeds of notable heroism per-
formed as a matter of course in the line of duty.
Captain C. W. Atkins of the tender Iris in June 1930
received commendation from the Department of Com-
merce for rescuing eight persons from a burning yacht in
the Delaware River. When the Iris reached the yacht
the people were in such great peril that they had jumped
overboard and were clinging to the sides of a small
swamped boat. Two men, two women and four children
were saved.
FOREST FIRE FIGHTERS
For many years New Jersey's 2,000,000 acres of woods
and forests were left to the mercy of fires that destroyed
vast acres of valuable timber, left the land barren and
desolate, and robbed the birds and wild animals of refuge.
This area, 120 miles long and averaging 30 miles in
width, only recently has been placed under the protection
of the State. The first attempt at organization of fire pre-
vention was in 1903, when local firewardens were ap-
pointed under township ordinance. This haphazard system
worked pretty well, but there was still an average loss of
51 acres per fire each year.
In 1923 there was a reorganization of the system. The
work was placed in charge of a State Fire Warden with
headquarters in Trenton. Under this system, the State is
divided into three divisions: Division A extends from the
New York border to the Raritan River j Division B from
that point to the Mullica River j and Division C covers
the remainder of the State. These divisions are subdi-
vided into 40 fire sections, each in charge of a State-paid
section fire warden. The sections are split into districts
under district wardens, making 372 districts. To each
district warden is assigned a crew of from 10 to 25 helpers
who are paid only when fighting fires. Altogether there
are 9,000 men available for fire duty. Seventeen towers
overlook the State's forest areas. These and the 13 district
offices are connected to headquarters at Trenton by short-
wave radio. In addition, the State Fire Warden has at his
232
FOREST FIRE FIGHTERS 233
disposal an airplane manned by a pilot and an observer.
Thus the headquarters office is in constant communication
with every portion of the field.
Although through education of the public the State
Forest Fire Service has done much to diminish the number
of fires, its greatest accomplishment has been in reducing
the loss in acres per fire. With the entire State under
constant observation from lookout towers and the well-
organized crew of trained helpers that can be marshaled
quickly and efficiently, there is now less likelihood of a
fire getting out of control and destroying great areas.
As an example, instead of losing 51 acres per fire, as was
the case before 1923, the recent average has been 17 acres.
Each division is equipped with three fire trucks which
may seem primitive when compared to the elaborate fire-
fighting apparatus used in cities, but they are most efficient
for the rough work they have to do. The trucks are
stripped of fenders to give them better clearance through
narrow lanes between trees. Their equipment includes a
portable gasoline-driven water pump, 2,000 feet of 2^2-
inch hose, and a bristling load of long-handled shovels
and brooms of a special type the most efficient of all
forest fire-fighting appliances as well as axes, brush hooks,
buckets, steel drums, lanterns, hoes, mattocks, sprayers
and torches.
Combatting forest fires depends on eternal watchful-
ness and speed in getting out to fight the flames. All that
a forest fire-fighting service can do in the way of prevent-
ing fires is to have laws passed that discourage fire hazards,
to post the woods with warnings and educate the public in
the dangers of carelessness. The causes of forest fires are
far too numerous and varied and the area to be protected
234 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
is far too extensive to permit more than the most general
preventive measures.
A forest fire may start in any number of ways from a
spark thrown by a passing locomotive or a lighted ciga-
rette tossed into dry grass. Picnickers or hunters may have
lighted a campfire in restricted areas. Glowing ashes
knocked from a pipe into a bed of dried leaves or grass
can start a blaze that will burn over miles of country and
keep crews of men fighting for hours to control it.
Fire Warden Fales reported in the winter of 1937 that
hunters were responsible for setting 42 blazes in the fall
of that year, several of which were of major proportions.
One of these larger forest fires was in Sussex County
and was started by sportsmen who set fire to a hollow
tree to rout out a squirrel. The hunters did their best to
put out the fire, but it got beyond them.
The increasing number of devastating forest fires led
to the enactment of many laws pertaining to the care of
the forests and the duties of the fire wardens. A person
starting a fire in the woods without obtaining permission
from the local fire warden may be fined as much as $400.
When engaged in fighting a fire the warden in charge
may summon any male person between the ages of 18
and 50 within his jurisdiction to assist in extinguishing
the blaze. No physically fit person can refuse. Such recruits
are paid the same rate as the warden's regular staff of
helpers. The fire warden also has the right to use personal
property and material if they are needed to beat back the
fire.
The men of the forest fire service do more than merely
wait for fires. There is much preparatory work to be done
to make the actual work of fire fighting more effective.
During the off season, December 20 to March i, each
MEN AGAINST THE FLAMES
district warden and his crew go through the woods remov-
ing dry branches, digging up patches that threaten to pro-
duce dry grass and cutting away underbrush and trees of
less than three inches in diameter. Sand piles are deposited
to be ready to scatter on the flames.
At certain points, strips or "lanes" are cut through the
woods. These are cleared of all vegetation and are cut
wide enough to allow the fighters to get through to start a
"backfire." In case a forest fire gets a serious start, a "back-
fire" is set toward the onrushing flames so that when the
two meet neither can proceed for lack of fuel on the
already burned area.
The dangerous and expensive practice of backfiring may
be eliminated, however, with a new pumping unit devel-
oped by the department. The outfit, which can reach about
80% of the fires in a district, is capable of pumping n
236 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
gallons of water a minute at the end of a io,ooo-foot hose.
The unit is equipped with tanks to wet down the road
bordering the burning area, a two-way radio, hand spray-
ers, axes and other fire-fighting equipment. Water can
be pumped into the apparatus from a 22-foot well, and
the intake hose needs only three inches of water in which
to operate. The department is planning to have one of
these in each of the three divisions.
The average forest fire is not spectacular unless it breaks
into tree tops where it roars or crackles from tree to tree,
sending flames sky high, making an awe-inspiring scene.
Man power is what counts in the struggle, for the fire has
to be beaten down with shovels, brooms and other imple-
ments before it has the chance to spread upward into the
dry foliage of the trees.
Of the three sections into which the forest areas have
been mapped, Division B and parts of C in the central and
southern sections of the State are the danger spots, for
here are dense forests of evergreens filled with resin and
volatile oils. Many of the sections in this division are
covered with scrub pine and underbrush tangled into a
jungle so thick that even hunters refuse to penetrate it.
Once these pines catch fire they burn so quickly and cast
off so much heat that men cannot come near enough to
fight the flames. This section of the State, abused and
neglected by man in earlier times, is one of the greatest
fire hazards in the United States.
When the railroads were built through this region to
carry people to the Atlantic coast resorts there was a great
increase in forest fires. Little attempt was made to extin-
guish the blazes. They were allowed to burn until arrested
by some natural barrier a swamp, stream or road. Not
only have the trees been weakened and destroyed by fre-
FOREST FIRE FIGHTERS 237
quent burnings, but the soil, robbed of its richness through
the destruction of humus and ground litter, has been so
impoverished that it will take 100 years to restore it to
productivity.
The procedure of reporting a forest fire has become an
exact science. High in one of the observation towers sits
the lookout, a licensed radio operator. Smoke from chim-
neys in the villages and hamlets that lie in his district
do not interest him. But let smoke appear where it should
not, or let the chimney smoke appear suspiciously heavy,
and immediately he is all attention.
Around swings his range finder and the smoke is located
on the map plot 62. He watches to see if the smoke is
increasing. If it does, he calls the section warden, giving
his tower location and the number of the burning plot.
The warden calls another tower and gets a location from
the lookout there. From this tower it looks as though plot
6 1 is afire. A glance at the map shows where the two
bearings cross, and the fire is located. The section warden
then calls the district warden, who drops whatever work
he is doing and races for the garage, stopping only long
enough to notify his men. Then down the street and
across the fields, sometimes as much as eight miles, the
truck jounces with its load of men and equipment. On
the way more men are picked up. In the woods, the smoke
leads the crew to the fire.
Just as the causes of forest fires vary, so do the methods
of fighting them. These depend on what headway the fire
has made, on the nature of the vegetation on which it is
feeding, on the terrain whether the ground is level,
uphill or downhill and whether or not there is a high
wind. As a rule, the easiest fires to handle are those near
farms or wherever else it may be handy to set up the
238 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
water pump, drop its suction hose down a well or a cistern
and let the water spray. Hillside fires are next most easily
disposed of, because the draught created by the flames
is deflected by the slope of the hill instead of fanning the
fire. The most difficult fires to handle are those on a level
among the evergreens in Divisions B and C, because of
the heat and speed of the flames. In cases like these the
fire lanes that have been cut and prepared are a godsend.
If the blaze occurs where no fire lanes have been cut the
fire fighters are rushed ahead of the fire to cut lanes for
backfiring.
Backfiring, however, is not undertaken except when
necessary, and only under favorable conditions. In a high
wind there is danger of spreading flames in the wrong
direction unless, of course, the lanes are very wide. The
safest backfires are started on the downhill side of slopes,
where the flames progress far more slowly than uphill.
Except where backfiring is used all forest fires are attacked
from in front and beaten out with shovels.
In these days of fire-fighting efficiency the attack is
more interesting than spectacular. The choking, acrid
fumes of blinding smoke that rise from the charred area
over which the fire has traveled on occasion are hot enough
to scorch shoes. But the army of shovelmen piles through
this, choking and coughing, whether the fire front be a
half-mile or a mile in length. Each tries to beat a gap in
the line of flames, thus putting a stop to further advance
at that point, and then along the line of fire so as to out-
flank it.
Relatively small fires are quickly disposed of, especially
in the northern end of the State where trees of the pine
family are scarcer and where the chief fuel for the flames
is little more than dried grass, dry underbrush and leaves.
FOREST FIRE FIGHTERS 239
But fighting a real forest fire is a he-man's job. The smoke
is so thick that the men are discernible only as shadows.
The heat, the ash dust and the smoke parch their throats,
blacken their faces and send streams of tears out of red-
dened eyes.
There is no such thing as time out for a breathing spell
or food or even drink j and throughout, without a mo-
ment's cessation, the shovels are pounding, sometimes for
hours and hours while even the strongest lungs, joints
and muscles weary. On one occasion, in Division C, the
fight continued eight hours. Then, reeling, the men came
back from the front, black and sooty, red-eyed, swollen-
lipped for want of a drink and so absolutely exhausted
that many were obliged to sit or lie down before pro-
ceeding home. For this work the "extras" are paid $i
for the first and 40^ for each succeeding hour of work.
But it is not the money, it is pride in belonging to a splen-
did service, that commands the loyalty of every man.
STATE POLICE
In 1921, when mounting automobile casualties and the
increase of crime in rural communites were beyond con-
trol of local facilities, the New Jersey State Legislature
authorized the creation of the State Police with a force
of 140 men. In 17 years its duties have been expanded to
include a variety of services, from conducting safety edu-
cation classes to tattooing poultry as a protection against
thieves. Even though the personnel has been doubled.
Col. Mark O. Kimberling, Superintendent, feels that
the present force cannot adequately cope with the growing
population and the increasing traffic on the State's 8,200
miles of roadway.
An applicant must be more than 5 feet 6 inches tall,
weigh at least 135 pounds and be between the ages of
24 and 40. Very few over 32 apply because of the rigid
physical test. Applicants who pass a thorough character
investigation are invited to take the periodic mental and
physical examinations. On these tests they must attain
an average of 65% to be put on the eligible list. When
vacancies occur, those highest on the list are called to the
training station at Wilburtha, near Trenton.
For three months the training classes of 50 to 75 re-
cruits are not permitted to leave Wilburtha except in
cases of serious illness at home. On Sundays they may go
to church with an officer and receive visitors in the after-
noon. The student is carefully watched to determine
whether or not he is temperamentally fit for police work.
240
STATE POLICE 241
Many are eliminated for this reason alone. Life in the
training school under the rigorous schedule is a test of
stamina, mental and physical alertness and adaptability:
5:45 a.m. Rise.
6:OO a.m. Roll call, calisthenics and foot drill.
7:00 a.m. Breakfast.
8:00 a.m. Road run. A quarter of a mile the first
day, and this distance is increased until the
-daily limit of five miles is reached. This
is followed by a shower, more calisthenics,
jiujitsu, boxing, wrestling, broadswords
and horsemanship, motorcycle riding or
automobile driving, until noon.
12:00 noon Dinner.
i :oo p.m. Lecture. These include talks on the legal
phase of a policeman's work, first aid and a
practical knowledge of medicine. The lec-
turers are doctors, lawyers, judges and
police officials.
2:oo p.m. Study of the police manual. This includes
the State, criminal, game, forestry and
motor vehicle laws ; Federal statutes, State
geography, court procedure, courtesy and
consideration toward prisoners and com-
plainants, scientific crime detection, includ-
ing the study of fingerprinting, toxology
and making of moulage casts.
4:30 p.m. Marksmanship, livesaving and resuscita-
tion. Colt pistols are used on the rifle
range. A candidate must be able to shoot
with both hands and attain an average of
85% in marksmanship. The use of gas
242 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
hand grenades to quell disturbances is also
part of the study.
5:30 p.m. Supper.
7:00 p.m. Classroom.
8:00 p.m. Recreation.
9:30 p.m. Lights out.
Those selected for service sign up for two years, but they
may resign at any time. The $100 monthly salary which
begins in training continues for a six-month probationary
period served under the supervision of a veteran trooper.
At the end of nine months a trooper's pay is $1,600 a year.
This is increased annually until at the end of six years he
reaches $2,200 the limit for trooper's grade. At the age
of 50, after 20 years of continuous service, State police-
men are pensioned at half of salary and maintenance.
Troopers disabled in line of duty receive between one-
quarter and three-quarters of their pay, depending on the
degree of disability. Widows or dependents of men killed
in the service receive an amount not in excess of one-half
of salary and allowance.
Following the six months' probation the rookie becomes
a full-fledged State policeman. "Duty, Honor, Fidelity,"
the motto of the State police, are the first three words in
his lexicon, and the rolling road becomes his home for 12
or 13 hours each day, 6 days a week.
A State trooper is subject to call 24 hours a day. To
keep criminals from knowing the exact whereabouts of
troopers at certain hours, there are no set "beats" or
mileage limits. Nor does a trooper know from day to
day to which of the three trooper headquarters or the
25 substations he will be assigned. Transfers are made
"for the good of the service" and are never questioned.
STATE POLICE 243
Troopers are seldom removed from stations except for
good cause.
State headquarters are maintained at Trenton, where
Superintendent Kimberling, former Army officer and
warden of the State Prison, directs the activities of the
department. The three troop headquarters are at Ham-
monton, Morristown and Wilburtha.
A captain, or troop commander, is in charge of each
troop headquarters and eight substations. He is responsible
to the Superintendent for the men and for police condi-
tions in the area. Substations are commanded by a sergeant
or corporal who in turn is accountable to the troop com-
mander.
Although crime prevention is an important part of the
work, the particular responsibility of the State police has
been patrolling the roads that carry the commercial and
pleasure traffic to and from the great cities of New York
and Philadelphia. Despite the efforts of the police to
educate drivers, there is still an appalling number of
injuries and deaths from automobile accidents each year.
State policemen are trained to treat the motorist, as well
as the law, with respect. Minor offenders may receive only
a warning; but the deliberately reckless driver can expect
the full penalty of the law. To this particular public
nuisance the State police have dedicated a parody on
Trees:
I think that I shall never see,
Along the road an unscratched tree,
With bark intact and painted white,
That no car ever hit at night.
God gave them eyes so they could see,
Yet any fool can hit a tree.
TRAINING IN HORSEMANSHIP
Colonel Kimberling has devised an accident-control
system that has cut down mishaps considerably. Every
reported accident is recorded by a pin placed on a huge
map of the State ; in addition, a detailed description of the
accident is filed. When the pins become massed in any
spot on the map, that spot is marked off as an accident
center and is subject to special policing.
In the last few years the airplane has proved very effec-
tive in untangling traffic snarls, especially on holidays.
Observers fly over the highways and by radio inform
headquarters of the extent of traffic jams. The news is
teletyped to station WOR, which broadcasts warnings
of possible delay and suggested detours. Meanwhile, extra
details of troopers are rushed to untangle the traffic knots.
Eight white patrol cars and 55 motorcycles are used for
this work.
RUNNING j PART OF THE TRAINING
EVERY TROOPER WHILE IN TRAINING MUST RUN FIVE
MILES DAILY
School Safety Patrols
The Safety Education Bureau was started in 1929 when
angry Camden County parents protested against the
mounting number of automobile accidents in rural dis-
tricts. Since then the bureau has carried on a broad
program of instruction for children and adults. Police
especially trained for this work are assigned to certain
territories to supervise and instruct the safety patrols of
school children. In country schools in 1937 there were
405 active safety patrols under the supervision of the
State police.
There is a keen rivalry among these young traffic direc-
tors, whose motto is "Safety, Service, Citizenship." Good
work means promotion to the rank of lieutenant or captain.
Advancement is decided upon by a board in each school
246 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
consisting of the principal, a teacher and the trooper in
charge.
Organization and supervision of the school safety pa-
trols is only part of the work of these trooper-teachers.
Twice each month they visit the schools in their territory
to direct safety training from kindergarten to high school
classes. The course is planned to follow the seasons from
October until spring. Instruction in November and De-
cember is devoted to methods of preventing Christmas
accidents, while in March the hazards of roller skating,
bicycling and kite flying are discussed. During May and
June the troopers tell of summer dangers, with emphasis
on July Fourth mishaps.
The State police have proved good teachers, enlivening
the talks with stories and moving pictures. The confidence
placed in the troopers by their young charges is illus-
trated by a recent incident. A little girl about seven called
the telephone operator and asked for the State police. The
operator relayed the call to the nearest barracks, and the
trooper on duty heard a small voice ask that a State police-
man be sent to her home to keep her company.
"Why?" asked the desk man.
"Because my mama's gone to the city and I'm alone
and afraid. A policeman teaches me in school and I'm
never afraid when he's around," the youngster explained.
The trooper on the nearest beat was told to drop in and
see how the child was faring.
Adults, too, may receive instruction through lectures
before civic groups, luncheon and social clubs, church
groups and parent-teacher associations. The police urge the
importance of broadening the educational program, be-
cause a preponderance of accidents occurs as a result of
violation of simple safety rules.
STATE POLICE 247
Crime Prevention
The clocklike precision with which the troopers spring
into action in an emergency has often resulted in the ap-
prehension of a criminal, the uncovering of telltale evi-
dence or the saving of a life. As soon as an emergency
call is received, the telephone operator plugs in the nearest
substation. The troopers make regular calls into their sta-
tions so that the officer in charge has a constant check on
the movement of every man in his detail. In case of a sud-
den call for help, the substation orders a light placed in
the window of a home, store or garage along the trooper's
beat. The trooper, recognizing the signal, calls up the sta-
tion for orders, and off he goes to the scene of the accident
or crime.
An idea of the speed with which the State police func-
tion can be gained from a recent attempted burglary near
Stanhope. An aged woman, left alone in the house, heard
someone prowling donwstairs at midnight. Locking her
bedroom door, she opened the window and screamed for
help. Neighbors telephoned the barracks at Stanhope, five
miles away, and seven minutes later a State policeman was
at the scene. The would-be thief had fled when he heard
the woman's cries, but by noon the next day he had been
arrested, tried and sentenced to a year in jail.
In 1930 the legislature authorized the installation of a
State-wide police teletype alarm system to be connected
with similar systems in New York, Pennsylvania, Massa-
chusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Delaware and Ohio.
This method of communication has been responsible for
apprehending many criminals.
In the crime laboratory at Wilburtha are kept the
rogues' gallery and fingerprint records of thousands of
ONE OF THE TROOP HEADQUARTERS SHOWING NEWEST
TYPE CARS
lawbreakers. In addition, the laboratory is equipped with
almost every known scientific device for checking evidence:
microscopes, cameras, violet-ray and X-ray machines,
equipment for making ballistics examinations and chem-
ical analyses, machines for making photomicrographs (pic-
tures made through a microscope), for enlarging photo-
graphs and making photostats. Fingerprint files, to a great
extent, have taken the place of the rogues' gallery as a
means of identifying criminals. Experts estimate that the
chance of two fingerprint impressions being identical is one
in 64 billion. When no fingerprints are left at the scene of
a crime, the investigators must rely on other devices. A
cast of a footprint or the chemical analysis of a single hair
may lead to the solution of a crime.
The uniformed force of the State police is augmented
by the detective bureau of 25 men. These plain-clothes
men, selected because of special aptitude for the work, co-
operate with the troopers and local police. In 1937 the
STATE POLICE 249
detective force investigated about 1,300 criminal cases, of
which 566 have been completed and 728 are still under
investigation or awaiting trial.
Rendering first aid, policing disasters and quelling riots
are vital parts of the troopers' work. One of the best ex-
amples of their efficiency in this line of duty was the
Hindenburg tragedy. At 7:23 on the night of May 6,
1937, the giant dirigible from Germany exploded and
took fire as it neared the mooring mast of the Naval Air
Station at Lakehurst. A few minutes later, troopers on
duty at the station were connected with the Trenton head-
quarters. Messages were sent out over the teletype, speed-
ing ambulances, doctors and nurses to the scene. At 7:33
every available State policeman was on his way to Lake-
hurst. Their heroic work that night brought praise from
passengers, naval officers and government officials.
Many other demands are made of the State police from
time to time. The cooperation with the Fire Warden in
fighting forest fires has been a factor in keeping the dam-
age at a minimum, and poultry thefts have been greatly
reduced by the State police system of tattooing a number,
registered like automobile license numbers, on the fleshy
part of the birds' wings.
The efficiency and courage of the State police have
earned the respect of the public. Many troopers have left
to accept positions as chiefs of local police departments or
for police work in private industry. Most of them, how-
ever, remain in the service, well satisfied with the healthy
outdoor life and the secure economic future.
RESTORING LOST FORESTS IN THE
MULLICA WATERSHED
The Mullica River and its branches, once important
arteries of commerce for the industries of southern New
Jersey, drain nearly 450 square miles of silent woodland
and barren waste in the heart of the pine belt. Here in
five State forests, scientists are conducting experiments
that look to the rebuilding of the 3,200 square miles of
New Jersey forest area so that the soil of the southern
pine lands, which produced the valuable forest of Colonial
days, will again grow timber, hold the rainfall and give
service to man.
Early settlers in this region found the land covered
with giant pine, cedar and oak trees, an abundance of wild
life and many streams, well stocked with fish. They set up
furnaces, smelting iron from the bog ore found along the
banks of the streams, and built glass works that drew upon
the rich deposit of glass sand underlying the area. In the
vast forests they ruthlessly cut down the trees to supply
charcoal for the furnaces and timber for ships that plied
the clear, swift-flowing Mullica, carrying cargoes to New
York, Philadelphia and other cities.
Today only crumbling ruins of furnaces and mill wheels
are left as reminders of this former activity. Shipyards
along the banks of the Mullica closed long ago. Here and
there ghost towns are decaying. The few people remaining
in the vicinity earn a living in the cranberry bogs and by
exploiting the remnants of the forest.
250
RESTORING LOST FORESTS 251
Much of the timber left standing by earlier inhabitants
was destroyed by fires which again and again ravaged the
area. Even the leafy covering of the soil was burned away
in spots, and wind and rain eroded the thin mold, laying
bare the unfertile subsoil of sand and gravel. Trees forced
by the heat of fires sprouted too often, ever weaker, until
they became dwarfed, crooked and feeble.
It is through these denuded forests that the Mullica
River flows southeastward across New Jersey for 35 miles,
starting at a point near Berlin, Camden County, and
emptying into Great Bay, an arm of the Atlantic Ocean
about 15 miles north of Atlantic City. Its many branches
reach into three other counties Burlington, Ocean and
Atlantic. Along the lower stretches of the river the mead-
ows covered with reeds and grasses are feeding grounds
, > J*STATC FOREST
o C hd rswo rrti
MULLICA
CO
FEDERAL WRITERS" PROJ
252 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
for countless birds. Large vessels can still navigate the
Mullica for several miles above its mouth, and small
ships can travel 20 miles upstream, as far as Pleasant
Mills, but today there are no large towns to attract com-
merce. For 20 miles above Pleasant Mills, where the
stream is joined by four others, it is sometimes called
Atsion River.
The State forest reservations along the Mullica and its
tributaries, centers of large-scale forest planting, comprise
35,000 acres, or more than two- thirds of all the State
forest reserve. Fine groups of trees that somehow escaped
the woodman's axe in the two centuries preceding the
Civil War still stand in scattered spots. Tall fire-towers
give silent evidence of the value the State places on
these forests.
The Mullica, once called Little Egg Harbor River, has
two State forests on its shores, Green Bank and Lower
Bank. Trees cast their shadows on the smooth surface of
the broad stream. Here are picnic grounds and camping
places which are increasing in popularity each year.
The rising quest of outdoor life that has come with the
automobile and motorboat has brought new activity into
the Mullica River region. Many residents of Philadelphia
and Atlantic City have found its forests and streams ideal
for a summer vacation land. Small cottages have been
built in recent years around the Colonial village of Sweet-
water or Pleasant Mills. The summer visitors spend much
time in fishing, hiking and horseback riding along the
woodland paths that lead to berry patches and ghosts of
towns. Hunting also is a favorite sport.
Canoeists, attracted by the beauty of the clear-flowing
river and its tree-shaded banks, make their way up as far
as old Atsion, once an iron center. The tides flood the
RESTORING LOST FORESTS 253
streams as far as old Batsto, where there is a dam. Boys'
and girls' camps may be seen on the shores near cabins of
hunters, fishermen and summer residents invited by the
silent woods. The balmy scent of pine fills the air. Out-
side of the many bogs the soil is dry and porous.
The Bass River branch of the Mullica River reaches the
Bass River State Forest, while the Wading River branch
rises from the springs and brooks of Lebanon State Forest
and Penn State Forest, named for William Penn. Pictur-
esque Oswego Lake, made by damming the Oswego River
branch of Wading River, is at the southern border of
Penn State Forest.
In the Bass River reserve the forest supervisor recently
found an old dam mysteriously repaired and flooding
seven acres. He discovered that the work had been done
by beavers, most of which had vanished from this section,
having been killed for their valuable skins in Colonial
days. The founders of the new beaver colony are believed
to be descendants of those deported from northern New
Jersey about two years ago at the request of human
neighbors.
On the experimental area in Bass State Forest are lob-
lolly pine trees planted in 1913 that have grown 50 feet
high and 10 to 16 inches in diameter. Here also are white
pines which in the same period have reached a height of
40 feet. These are the largest of the experimental plant-
ings, though the foresters also have set out jack, red,
Scotch and Austrian pines, Norway spruce, Douglas fir
and European larch trees.
The foresters have been and still are thinning out the
white swamp cedar trees to relieve crowding and to per-
mit the best trees to develop. Where the soil is shallow,
the oak scrub is cut away to permit the growth of yellow
254 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
pines, which thrive better than oak in this locality. In these
forests and the land around them the deer, protected by
law, have been increasing for the last 20 years. At one
time deer were almost extinct in New Jersey, but they
have been replaced by bringing Virginia whitetail deer to
the State forests.
The State operates two nurseries for producing young
trees, one of them close to the Mullica River near Green
Bank Forest. In recent years the Civilian Conservation
Corps, stationed at several camps in this region, has aided
the State Forester by planting millions of young trees. In
the entire State this corps has set out 40,000,000 trees and
collected between 7,000 and 8,000 pounds of seed.
State engineers have offered plans to save the soft water
of the Mullica basin for the drinking supply of New Jer-
sey cities. This would include the building of an aqueduct
13 feet in diameter stretching 84 miles northward to
Newark. Two reservoirs of 54 square miles would be cre-
ated on the Mullica and Wading Rivers by dams, each
four miles long. Unfortunately these reservoirs would
bury old Batsto, Pleasant Mills, Gloucester Furnace and
other historic points beneath their waters.
Another report made by the State Board of Conserva-
tion and Development favors purchase of the Wharton
tract for its forest and park value. The Wharton Estate,
covering 148 square miles, takes its name from Joseph
Wharton of Philadelphia, who purchased large tracts of
pine land along the Mullica and its branches before the
Civil War. Wharton proposed to build a reservoir which
would furnish a future water supply for Philadelphia.
Since State legislation forbids water to be taken out of
New Jersey, these vast areas in the river basin have re-
mained a part of the Wharton estate. The small cottages
RESTORING LOST FORESTS 255
now at Batsto were built for workers who protect the
Wharton forest lands against timber thieves. The fine old
manor house was rebuilt as it now stands by Mr. Wharton.
Little farming is possible in the Mullica Watershed,
but cranberry culture has been a growing industry in the
bogs that once yielded iron ore. New Jersey's crop is now
the second largest in the United States. In recent years
the development of the swamp blueberry has been fos-
tered in this region as a result of successful experiments
by the Federal and State Departments of Agriculture.
Sphagnum moss is also gathered in the woodland in large
quantities for the use of florists.
One of the early furnaces with forge attached, the
Batsto Iron Works, was built on the Batsto River, about
two miles north of its junction with the Mullica. Across
the river from the village was the Colonial settlement of
Sweetwater, now Pleasant Mills, where lived timber cut-
ters, charcoal burners and teamsters serving Batsto. The
ruins of an old cotton mill which opened in 1821 still
stand. The mill was later converted to the manufacture
of paper, using wood pulp made from the surrounding
forest. In Batsto is the Aylesford House built by Charles
Read, the ironmaster. His daughter Honore, heroine of
the novel Kate Aylesford, was rescued from Tory out-
laws by a young Continental officer, Major Gordon, whom
she later married.
The leader of the bandits was Joe Mulliner, a South
Jersey Robin Hood who robbed the rich and sometimes
aided the poor. He held up wagon trains carrying supplies
to Batsto Furnace and sold "protection" to other team-
sters. Joe's lieutenant, "Big Dan" Johnson, who had a
shrill high voice, would hide himself under a blanket and
call to passing drivers for a lift. When the wagon stopped,
256 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
the gang swarmed out of the bushes and looted the load.
Tradition relates that Mulliner loved Honore Read and
kidnaped her when she failed to invite him to a party at
here home. Honore was returned that night, but the party
was a failure. The militia, stirred to action, tracked Joe to
his den in Hemlock Swamp a few miles up the Mullica
River. They dragged him to a birch tree near the Read
manor house and hanged him. A wooden sign now
beneath the tree reads: "Joe Mulliner, Hung. 1781."
The Mullica River, so important in the State's early
industrial history, received its name from Eric Mullica,
who came to this country with other Swedish settlers in
1663. About 1697 Mullica led a party of Swedes from
their settlement on the Delaware into the wilderness and
cleared a strip of forest land along the north bank of the
river close to the present village of Lower Bank, near the
State Forest in Burlington County. Mullica remained here
until he was 80 years old, when he joined his sons at their
home near Raccoon Creek, close to the present village of
Mullica Hill, which also took the name of this hardy
pioneer who lived to the age of 87.
In the more than 240 years that have intervened since
Eric Mullica led his little band of pioneers into the Mul-
lica region, it has been despoiled to supply the utilities
of a rapidly expanding nation. Now that science has taught
greater respect for the gifts of Nature, future generations
may benefit from the forward-looking program of the
Department of Conservation.
AGRICULTURE
CRANBERRIES
Early New Jersey settlers were introduced by the
Indians to a small red berry with a distinctive acid flavor.
Before long they discovered that the new fruit had a cer-
tain tonic value and was particularly helpful as a cure
for scurvy.
This fruit, the cranberry, is a native of the bogs of the
northern United States and belongs to the same botanical
family as do blueberries, huckleberries and snowberries.
It is closely related to the European cranberry which
grows in colder bogs in Europe and Asia and between
Labrador and Alaska and Michigan and British Columbia.
The American variety is comparatively large, ranging in
color from a light yellow to a very dark red, almost black.
The fruit may be bell-, bugle- or cherry-shaped.
The first colonists were satisfied to gather the cranber-
ries in their wild state. In 1835 the first bog in New Jersey
was set out by Benjamin Thomas near Burr's Mills in
Burlington County. Many bogs were established in the
early fifties, but it was not until after the Civil War that
production was begun on a large scale. Since then the in-
dustry has flourished, enlisting the aid of science in its
fight against its natural enemies, insects and disease.
There are few States with the climate and soil necessary
for cranberry cultivation. Massachusetts leads in produc-
tion with New Jersey in second place. The level, sandy,
well-watered soil of the southern part of the State is par-
ticularly suited for this enterprise, which is rapidly beconv
259
260 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
ing the most important small fruit industry of New Jer-
sey. Burlington, Atlantic and Ocean Counties produce
about one quarter of the entire cranberry crop in the
United States. There is plenty of room for expansion, for
only a little more than 10 percent of land suitable for
cranberries has been cultivated.
The primary requisite in cranberry cultivation is an
available water supply, since periodic flooding is impor-
tant. The most desirable soil is sandy with a top layer of
acid muck or peat and a hardpan base that will retain the
water until it is drained off. Throughout the pine barren
section of New Jersey there are miles of bog land watered
by small streams which can be dammed and controlled to
provide water to flood the bogs.
The preparation of the land takes several years. First
the soil must be cleared of all vegetation, the usual
method being to burn everything after the site is cleared.
The land is then ditched and covered with two to four
inches of clean sand. Cuttings are next planted at six-inch
intervals in rows 16 inches apart. Care is taken to weed
out any cutting showing disease. Working on his knees
and using an ordinary dibble, a man can plant about 10
square rods a day. In about four years the ground is com-
pletely covered by the vines, and they start to bear fruit.
The cranberry plant or vine is a trailing runner along
which are distributed numerous erect branches and roots.
Both the runner and the upright bear leaves, but only the
upright bears fruit. During the winter all the leaves are
red, but in the spring they turn green.
Fruit buds first appear in August. In the following
spring the new uprights grow from the terminal bud.
The vines flower in June and early July and bear fruit
in September or October.
CRANBERRIES 26 1
In January of each year the bogs are submerged and
kept flooded until early May in order to prevent winter
killing and a too early start of growth. Bogs are flooded
again during late May or early June to kill insects, and
the treatment is repeated after the fall harvest. Occasion-
ally a reflow in August is necessary. These periodic reflows
must be very carefully controlled. If the plants remain
submerged too long the entire crop may be ruined. In
most cases the flow must be put on and taken off in 24
hours.
The most troublesome disease is the false blossom,
which is spread by a tiny leafhopper. Growers, working
with the cooperation of experiment stations, are now able
to fight this disease, but in recent years it has been the
main cause for the cutting of the cranberry crop from
some 200,000 barrels a year to a little over 100,000. Other
diseases, such as scald, blast and rot, are caused by fungi.
Insects that injure the plants include the yellow-headed
fireworm, the black-headed fireworm, blossom worm, cran-
berry girdler and the common grasshopper.
Although flooding is the most common way of fighting
these pests, new methods of control are being developed.
Many growers use pyrethrum dust, sprayed by hand
dusters, by traction dusters or from autogiros and air-
planes.
Frosts are another worry to the grower, for the cran-
berry bogs are much colder than the surrounding upland
on clear, still nights because of lack of air circulation.
Growers watch the temperatures, and when conditions
threaten frost during the growing season they flood the
bogs enough to counteract the cold. The water, which is
warmer than the surrounding atmosphere, raises the tem-
perature above the danger point. It is important for the
262 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
grower to know just what minimum temperature the
plants can stand so that the water may be used without
waste or without damage to the plants.
Another problem is that of forest fires. Since many of
the bogs are in woodland, and the vines are combustible,
a system of fire lines or burned-off strips is employed to
protect them. The ordinary methods of fighting forest
fires are used when flames threaten the bogs.
Harvest begins in early September and lasts until late
October. Entire families, men and women, young and old,
spend the season in the fields. They are housed in make-
shift shelters provided by the owners. They are paid on
the basis of the quantity of berries picked. As each box is
filled the picker receives a ticket which represents so much
money and is accepted as currency in the stores in the
vicinity.
Pickers are assigned to certain places and are held re-
sponsible for that section. A group of four or five pickers
may be assigned to a strip one rod wide. Eight to 12 such
groups are supervised by a foreman, who walks up and
down between the strips to see that the plants are picked
clean and that few berries are dropped on the ground.
Unless the picking is carefully supervised as much as 25
percent of the crop may be left on the vines by the work-
ers. The pickers must work hard and fast during the brief
season to make their employment profitable enough to
meet their needs.
The method of keeping track of the harvest is simple.
If 30,000 bushels of berries are to be picked in 40 work-
ing days it means that 750 bushels must be picked daily.
With a force of 200 or 250 pickers the average is three
to four bushels. As the picker presents a filled box he
receives a numbered ticket. If the first ticket issued in the
CRANBERRIES 263
morning is No. 569 and the last one at night is No. 1,232
the grower knows that 663 measures have been harvested.
Recently a new method of picking, called scooping, has
changed the labor problem on the bogs. A cranberry scoop
has steel teeth so arranged that the operator can comb
through the vines, catching the berries in a boxlike com-
partment. It is a heavy tool that requires handling by
men. An ordinary laborer using a scoop can gather 6 to
12 bushels a day, while an expert can average 20 bushels.
The scooping method, used on more than half of the
bogs in New Jersey, reduces the cost of labor and saves in
housing and supervision. But there are disadvantages.
More berries are dropped to the ground, and the vines
are often damaged. Some growers have tried paying on
an hourly basis instead of by piece rates. This slows up
the work somewhat, but makes it more thorough.
Cranberries should be picked and handled only when
dry and should be kept at an even temperature during
storage. A temperature of 34 to 40 degrees is desirable.
The berries are placed in storehouses built to allow free
circulation of air. During cool nights the doors are left
open, and then closed by day to retain the cool air. Some
of the elaborate storehouses are fitted with cold storage
walls.
Methods of cultivating and marketing the cranberry
have been vastly improved since the formation of the
American Cranberry Exchange, which functions as a sell-
ing agency for its members. All the important cranberry
growers are members of the exchange and benefit from
the information it distributes impartially. New discoveries
in producing methods, disease control or handling of labor
problems become common property. There was a time
when an individual grower regarded any improvement
264 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
he had worked out as his personal property to be used in
competition. Now the growers work together to prevent
glutting the market and to develop better methods of pro-
duction. In addition, the exchange has developed an ex-
tensive advertising program to interest consumers in the
cranberry's place in the everyday diet.
The canning of cranberries has also become a profitable
industry in this State. About 20% of the crop is packed as
canned cranberries, cranberry jelly or cranberry cocktail.
Some of the New Jersey bogs have odd names. One, a
few miles south of Toms River, is known as Double
Trouble. The story is that a minister lived "at this little
settlement on Cedar Creek many years ago. Whenever the
muskrats burrowed through the dam it was his job to
make repairs. Once the muskrats dug two tunnels at the
same time. Exasperated upon finding twin leaks, the min-
ister cried: "Here's double trouble!" The name stuck.
JERSEY TOMATOES
The long white road cuts through the fields of green
plants hung thickly with bright red tomatoes. Up and
down the rows men and women, young girls and boys
stoop over the heavily laden bushes plucking the fruit
from the stems and piling it up in baskets. All day they
keep at their task in the hot sun, calling pleasantly to one
another, or singing now and then to while away the long
hours. A steady procession of wagons and motor trucks
winds down the road, each vehicle piled high with a tot-
tering load of baskets. All day and night the wagon train
moves in a steady stream toward the canneries and the
waiting city markets.
In five of the southern counties of New Jersey Glouces-
ter, Salem, Burlington, Cumberland and Camden
33,000 acres of tomato fields stretch mile after mile, each
field sprinkled with its group of industrious pickers, its
piles of overflowing baskets. In Monmouth, Mercer and
Middlesex Counties, too, there are great tomato fields.
During the picking season, July to October, South Jer-
sey looks as though it had been invaded by an army of
gypsies. From Philadelphia and other nearby cities whole
families move into the district and spend the summer trav-
eling from farm to farm. They camp in temporary quar-
ters supplied for them. The parents and all the children
large enough to work spend their days in the fields.
Grandmothers of today can remember when a tomato
was considered poisonous. They were called "love apples"
265
TOMATO PICKING IN THE FIELD
because they were used in France in courtship as a token
of love. The tomato then was a far smaller fruit than that
now grown. It is only within the last 50 years that the
large, luscious and highly nutritive product of today has
been deveolped.
The tomato was discovered in South America by the
Conquistadors, who introduced it to Europe. About 1600
the Italians discovered its value in making sauces, espe-
cially for spaghetti, and no one has been able to surpass
them in this particular use of it. The rest of the civilized
world was content to let the Italians take the risk of poi-
soning, and it was not until the middle of the igth cen-
tury that the tomato was considered seriously as a food.
People began growing a few plants in their gardens, but
no one thought of a tomato farm. The first seeds found
their way to New Jersey from Florida in 1812, when Dr.
JERSEY TOMATOES 267
Ephraim Buck of Cumberland County began experiment-
ing with them.
Few other foods can be enjoyed in so many different
forms. Cooked, pickled or raw tomatoes are equally tasty
and healthful. New Jersey, about 1931, first produced for
sale the latest form of this valuable food tomato juice.
Sales of this delicious drink are mounting steadily.
Most farmers contract for their entire crop with the
canning companies, of which there are 35 in New Jersey.
Among the prominent canneries are the T. J. Ritter Com-
pany and E. Pritchard Inc. of Bridgeton, the Edgar F.
Hurff Company of Swedesboro, the H. J. Heinz Com-
pany at Salem, and the Campbell Soup Company at Cam-
den. The farmer and the canning company agree on the
number of acres to be planted and the price that a certain
grade of fruit will bring.
Tomatoes are divided into two acceptable classes accord-
ing to standards set up by the United States Department
of Agriculture for tomato canning and the manufacture
of strained tomato products. Except for the elimination of
decayed and green tomatoes, called culls, the grower is
not required to grade his own crop. Ton loads of toma-
toes arriving by truck, train or boat at the canneries are
graded by inspectors from the New Jersey State Depart-
ment of Agriculture. These men, trained in the inspection
of cannery tomatoes and other farm produce, are licensed
by the Department of Agriculture at Washington. Three
baskets are taken at random from each truck and exam-
ined. Upon determining the percentage of culls and of
grades one and two by their proportionate weights, the
inspector presents certificates showing the percentage of
each grade to both the canner and the grower.
268 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
If the shipment does not meet with the specifications in
the contract, the canner may reject it; or if he accepts the
load anyway, he pays for it according to the percentage
of each grade. When there is more than 10 percent of
culls in the crop, the canner usually refuses it. The in-
spector has nothing to do with rejecting the shipment; he
merely determines its quality. Payment for his services is
made to the State Department of Agriculture by the can-
ner, or by the canner and the grower together.
Throughout the picking season the roads leading to
Camden, Bridgeton, Salem and other canning centers are
crowded with trucks waiting to approach the weighing
platforms. Sometimes the lines stretch for seven miles.
The success of a farmer's harvest is reckoned by the tons
of tomatoes an acre. An average tomato field will yield
four or five tons an acre, but farmers who use scientific
methods of propagation and cultivation have raised this
to eight and often to twelve or more tons. In 1937 the
farmers of New Jersey received $2,012,000 from the can-
ning companies for their tomato crop.
There is in New Jersey an organization, called the
lO-Ton Canhouse Tomato Club, composed of growers
who have cultivated at least five acres and produced 10
tons of tomatoes per acre. Sponsored by the Canners' Asso-
ciation, the State Horticultural Society and the State Col-
lege of Agriculture, the group accepted for membership
70 qualified growers in 1936. In the following year only
three growers were admitted because the crop had been
damaged by rainy weather. The club publishes an annual
report from which other farmers may learn the successful
methods followed by those who obtain the highest yields.
Individual members write accounts telling what sort of
fertilizers and seed or plants they used, how and when
JERSEY TOMATOES 269
they planted and cultivated their crops, and what methods
they found most effective in fighting disease and pests.
The larger canning companies maintain farms and lab-
oratories where they experiment with different types of
tomato plants. Through careful selection of parent seed
stock and crossbreeding, they have developed heavy, juicy
tomatoes with better color and flavor, especially desirable
for the manufacture of tomato juice. Scientists at the New
Jersey Agricultural Experiment Station have also made
valuable contributions to the development of improved
high-yielding varieties which are adapted to New Jersey's
soil and climate.
New and improved strains are constantly being devel-
oped by the process of crossbreeding. When a promising
plant has developed enough to have some small green
fruit and some buds and blossoms, the fruit is all cut off
so that the strength will go into the remaining blossoms.
Instead of allowing the plant to pollenize itself, the sta-
mens in the blossoms are removed with surgical tweezers.
The flower clusters are then tied up in little balloons of
oiled paper or fine cheesecloth and allowed to develop.
This protects them from receiving pollen borne from
other flowers or plants of unknown parentage.
When the buds are in full bloom, pollen from selected
plants is applied to the style of the pistil of each flower.
The coverings are then replaced. These experimental
plants are then staked and tied, and the fruit is allowed
to develop. A record is kept of the qualities exhibited.
Seed selections to reproduce this strain are based on the
quality of the fruit in terms of flavor, color and ability
to yield heavily.
After eight years of such scientific selection and cross-
breeding, in 1934 the New Jersey Agricultural Experi-
THE BEST TOMATOES HAVE THICK WALLS AND FEW
SEEDS
ment Station developed a super-tomato which they named
"Rutgers" in honor of Rutgers University, with which
the Station is affiliated. The Rutgers Tomato has advan-
tages which make it desirable to all concerned with tomato
production. Because it ripens from the center out, it pro-
vides excellent fruit for the manufacture of a richly
colored tomato juice. Its firm body contains few seeds and
is finely flavored. It can be picked early in July, and it
grows with an abundance of foliage which protects it from
sunscald. This last factor is especially important, because
the bleaching rays of the sun cause heavy damage to un-
protected plants. Analysis of the Rutgers variety has
JERSEY TOMATOES 27 I
shown it to have a high content of mineral salts, iron,
calcium and phosphorus.
Farmers buy crossbred plants from the experimental
farms maintained by the canning companies and from
plant nurseries. The tomato plants are certified by official
inspectors to be true to type and free from disease. Two
farms of the Campbell Soup Company, for example, one
at Riverton and another in Georgia, supplied 50,000,000
tomato plants to New Jersey farmers in 1936. Many New
Jersey tomato growers and most members of the lO-Ton
Canhouse Tomato Club use southern-grown plants in their
fields. Plants are delivered to Jersey farmers 40 hours
after leaving southern soil.
When home-grown plants are used, the seed is sown
during the first weeks of March so that plants of good
quality may reach the fields by the middle of May. Usu-
ally, before planting, the seed is treated with a solution
of mercuric chloride and then coated with red copper
oxide dust. Under certain conditions the soil is also steri-
lized by steam or a solution of formaldehyde to prevent
plantbed diseases.
After the seedbeds have been prepared for planting, the
seed is sown in rows in order to permit air and sunlight
to reach the entire plant. The sowing is done either in
flats of soil, in coldframes or in hotbeds heated by pipes.
The heat in the hotbeds is controlled so that the growth
of the plants may be speeded up or delayed. In the flats
the seed is covered with one quarter of an inch of soil and
watered through a burlap bag to prevent the seeds from
being washed away. Then the flat is covered with paper
for a few days to hold in moisture and heat until the seed
has begun to develop.
Temperature, moisture and ventilation are important in
272 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
the cultivation of tomatoes. Requiring a day temperature
of from 75 to 85 degrees Fahrenheit and a night tempera-
ture of 65, the plants are susceptible to disease if watered
too much or too often. A good ventilation system, regu-
lating temperature and humidity, reduces and often pre-
vents the spread of plantbed diseases. During cold weather
it is often necessary to protect the seedbeds by covering
them with waterproof tarpaulin cloth or salt hay. This
salt hay, which is gathered in the New Jersey marshes,
is more effective than the burlap bags, wooden shutters or
straw mats used by some farmers.
Tomato fields are prepared in April by thorough plow-
ing and harrowing. Fertilizers containing the necessary
properly balanced plant foods are applied, and rows are
marked off about four feet apart across the fields. In May
the plants are set out in the fields about four feet apart
in each row. Nearly 3,000 plants are required for each
acre. They are "hardened-off" or acclimated to field con-
ditions by removing the glass from the coldframes and
regulating irrigation.
Then the struggle begins against the natural enemies
that lie in wait. Particularly vicious is a variety of aphis
which completely covers the plant and sucks out the sap.
Other pests are cutworms, tomato horn and fruit worms,
flea beetles and potato bugs. Many tomato growers keep
apace of the times by using sprayers and even airplanes for
dusting the fields with poison to fight off these menaces.
After raising a fine crop of tomatoes, the farmer still
has the problem of seeing that it is carefully picked and
properly handled on the way to market and cannery. For
the canhouse he requires good, red ripe tomatoes. When
destined for distant markets the fruit is picked as soon as
it begins to redden. For nearby markets it is permitted to
JERSEY TOMATOES 273
ripen almost completely on the vine. Tomatoes that are
not fully ripe when picked are allowed to stand in bas-
kets for only one day. During this time they are kept
under cover. This conserves the heat in the baskets and
gives the fruit time to darken. The picker, like the grower,
is paid according to the grade of tomatoes he gathers.
There are still farmers raising tomatoes by the hit and
miss method j but the farmer who wants to produce the
greatest yield per acre and market his crop with the big
canning companies is the one who follows closely every
scientific improvement in methods of propagation and
cultivation.
BABY CHICKS BY THE MILLION
New Jersey hens lay more than 36,000,000 dozen eggs
annually, or enough to provide every man, woman and
child in the State with 100 eggs a year. Once the farmer
used to expect 60 eggs a year from his hens; now it is not
unusual to get 200. A white Leghorn holds the records
with 352 eggs a year, almost one each day! This amazing
improvement in laying capacity is the result of scientific
breeding, which produces a "pedigreed" chicken.
Next to dairying, poultry raising is the most important
agricultural business in the State. The area around Vine-
land, in Cumberland County, has been called the Egg
Basket of New Jersey; in this one section alone 3,500
poultry farms yield products worth $1,750,000 annually.
Although many New Jersey farmers are today produc-
ing their own chicks, there are still great hatcheries that
ship chicks throughout the Middle Atlantic and New Eng-
land States. In the center of the Vineland area is the
Wene Chick Farm, which produces almost 3,000,000
chicks a year. They are packed the day they are hatched
in corrugated containers, 25 chicks into each of the four
compartments, which are padded with wood wool to ab-
sorb the droppings and to protect the baby chicks against
the cold. A newborn chick has absorbed enough strength
from the egg to do without food for some time, so that
it may safely be shipped when only a day old to con-
siderable distances. Only the sturdiest chicks are shipped.
274
BATTERY OF INCUBATERS
Those which are not able to stand squarely on their feet
on the incubator trays are immediately destroyed.
The Kerr Chickeries, which ship by the same method,
has a 24<>acre farm at Frenchtown in Hunterdon County.
Its battery of incubators, looking like a row of giant re-
frigerators, have a capacity of 1,100,000 eggs. These me-
chanical hens, with temperature, moisture and ventilation
regulated electrically, each holds 52,000 eggs. Real moth-
erhood has gone out of fashion in the poultry business.
Eggs are taken from the nests as soon as they are laid
and placed in the incubator, where it takes three weeks to
hatch them, just as long as it takes when set under a hen.
Before science took a hand in chicken farming the Biddy
of the barnyard, after she had laid about a dozen eggs in
the spring, would set on them and, feeling that one job at
a time .was enough, would stop laying. Now she has no
ONE DAY OLD
excuse to take a vacation. In fact, by using electric lights,
poultry farmers lengthen the days for the hens. The
longer the day, the more they eat; and the more they
eat, the more eggs they lay.
In both of these great egg baskets of the State the
methods of poultry raising are the same. The business has
developed from the haphazard to the scientific. In the old
days the farmer kept chickens merely as a side line, feed-
ing them with anything handy, letting them drink where
they pleased, and lay where and when they pleased. If the
flock increased beyond the needs of his family he sold eggs
and chickens wherever he could.
The layout of the Kerr plant is typical of the large,
up-to-date poultry farm. Of the 240 acres about 80 are
planted with wheat and corn for feeding. The rest is used
for free range, brooding, and housing the breeders.
BABY CHICKS BY THE MILLION 277
(Many smaller farms which raise chickens for their own
use or for selling in the neighborhood use the same
methods on a smaller scale.)
During the busy season, January to July, a force of 60
men is required to carry on the various operations con-
nected with the business. One of the most important steps
is the blood testing of each bird so as to base selection of
the parent stock on standards of health and vigor. These
tests are taken by trained experts within a five-month
period before the hatching season. Each hen is tagged with
a numbered metal leg band; a sample of its blood is taken
from beneath the wing, collected in a test tube bearing the
same number and sent to the laboratory for testing. If
traces of Pullorum disease are found in any of the sam-
ples, the bird, identified by its number, is removed from
the flock and disposed of. This is called "culling out the
reactors."
Pullorum disease is incurable j but, because it is in-
heritable, it can be controlled by destroying carriers of the
germ. If the disease is not checked a whole flock may be
wiped out. Any survivors will carry the germ and en-
danger the next generation. Diseased chickens are likely
to be low egg producers.
Although Kerr Chickeries is the only hatchery in the
State maintaining its own laboratory, there are many
smaller chicken farms making use of the same scientific
methods of breeding. These send samples for blood test-
ing to the laboratory of the Bureau of Animal Industry
of the Department of Agriculture.
Another important phase of chicken farming is the
breeding of hens for high egg production. This is devel-
oped by a process called "trap nesting." When the hen
goes on the nest to lay an egg a door springs into place
278 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
and holds her until she is identified by her number and
a record made of her laying. Those who produce more
than the average number of eggs are separated from the
rest of the flock so that their eggs can be used for breed-
ing purposes. Trap nesting birds requires expensive equip-
ment and extra help to keep watch over the nests and
make the records. But it has enabled poultry farmers to
improve their stock.
There are many varieties of domestic chickens. Among
the more common breeds classed as white-shelled egg pro-
ducers are the Leghorns and Minorcas. The Leghorns
originated in Leghorn, Italy. This breed is used on large
scale commercial egg farms throughout the country. The
white-shelled eggs they produce bring a top price in many
markets. The Minorcas are probably the second most
popular breed of the white egg type. There are also large
flocks of Rhode Island Reds, New Hampshire Reds and
Barred Plymouth Rocks maintained for both egg and
meat production. These are known as dual-purpose breeds.
Although 90% of the poultry raising in New Jersey is
concerned with egg production, some poultry farms spe-
cialize in raising chickens for meat. The Plymouth Rock,
Rhode Island Red and Wyandotte are all highly desirable
meat breeds. The Jersey Giant, which originated in New
Jersey, is developed largely from Asiatic stock. It is simi-
lar to the Plymouth Rock in type, but is longer, deeper
and broader. This particular breed, confined mostly to
farms in the central section of the State, is in great
demand for roasters and capons.
New Jersey poultrymen, by their progressive methods
of production, aided by the experimental work being done
at Rutgers University and by the marketing program of
the State Department of Agriculture, have brought the
State to first rank in the value of poultry per acre.
DAIRY FARMING IN NEW JERSEY
The cows of Sussex are the most important element in
the county. Not only are there more dairy cattle than peo-
ple, but there is ample evidence that the people regard
them with great respect. Housed in modern buildings,
their fodder, care and comfort sedulously watched, these
animals accept calmly the devotion they receive. Sussex
County farmers have proved that the care they lavish on
their cattle is well worth while ; for these cows are among
the most productive in the Nation, with an average annual
yield per animal of about 3,010 quarts.
There are several factors which have contributed to
New Jersey's rank in this important branch of agriculture.
The great metropolitan areas of New York and Philadel-
phia within easy distance over fine roads are ready markets
for the products of New Jersey farmers.
It takes more than a generous supply, however, to sat-
isfy milk consumers. The public has been educated to
demand that milk fulfill certain requirements: that it have
sufficient food content, and be fresh and clean. Pure, fresh
milk comes from healthy, carefully handled and well-fed
cows. Therefore, from pasture land to milk wagon or gro-
cery store, every step of milk production is checked by
State authorities, local health boards and conscientious
producers. Indeed, the growth of the industry in this and
other States may generally be attributed to the confidence
with which people can use milk and milk products.
Other States with dairy farms at a greater distance
279
A SUSSEX COUNTY DAIRY FARM
from market convert much of their milk into butter,
cheese and evaporated canned milk, but New Jersey's
dairy farmers take advantage of the short haul to market
in glass or stainless steel-lined trucks and deliver practi-
cally all of their milk in fluid form within a few hours
of milking.
New Jersey farmers have been greatly aided by the
New Jersey State Agricultural Experiment Station organ-
ized in 1880, which, through research and experiment, has
raised the standard of the State's agricultural products.
On the experimental farms at New Brunswick and at
Beemerville, in Sussex County, the State maintains large
herds of cattle for testing methods of breeding and feed-
ing. It is to the intelligent supervision of State authorities
as well as to their own energy and care that New Jersey's
dairy farmers of today can attribute their success.
Although Sussex County leads the State in milk produc-
tion and in cow population, dairy farming is conducted
generally throughout New Jersey. In the northern sec-
tion, where much of the ground is rolling and unsuited
for cultivated crops, many farms are devoted exclusively
DAIRY FARMING IN NEW JERSEY 28 I
to dairying j but in the southern sections, where the farms
yield tomatoes, potatoes, beans and other garden produce,
dairying accounts for only part of the income.
The flood of 408,000,000 quarts of milk produced by
New Jersey's 136,000 cows in 1937 reached the New
York and Philadelphia metropolitan areas from two great
milksheds: that from the northern section of the State
supplying the New York area and from the southern sec-
tion supplying Philadelphia and New Jersey suburbs.
Coastal cities receive a considerable supply from the
dairy farms in the "Cream Ridge Area" in counties bor-
dering the shore. In the summertime, when their popula-
tion increases substantially, large quantities of milk are
diverted from both the Philadelphia and New York milk-
sheds to the shore.
The metropolitan areas of New York and Philadel-
phia and the smaller cities surrounding them have im-
posed strict regulations governing their milk supply. This
was not always so. The time was when the typical dairy
was housed in a stable next door to a distillery or brewery,
from where the dairyman obtained waste grain to feed his
cattle. Rising land values and more stringent sanitary
regulations both operated to drive the industry into the
country, increasing the average distance from cow to cus-
tomer from ten miles a generation ago to 50 miles today.
Improved methods of transportation, refrigeration and
preservation also facilitated this trend.
Important in this respect was the work of Louis Pas-
teur, the French scientist who in 1871 startled the world
by announcing the discovery of a method for destroying
the organisms in milk which caused it to turn sour or de-
preciate rapidly in quality. Progressive New Jersey dairy-
men were quick to sense the value of this discovery, and
282 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
pasteurization became common practice in this State before
the close of the igth century.
Prior to this time inadequate use of milk, and in some
cases use of impure milk, had been factors in infant
mortality. About 1900 Nathan Straus, the philanthropist,
began a crusade to provide milk for the needy. He estab-
lished free milk stations in New York City to distribute
milk processed by the Pasteur method. The resulting de-
cline in the infant death rate convinced the public of the
food value of milk and the desirability of using milk
treated in this way. Today milk must be pasteurized be-
fore it is admitted into any well-regulated area, unless
it has met the still more rigid requirements of certified
milk.
Pasteurization consists in heating milk to a temperature
of 142 to 145 degrees Fahrenheit, keeping it at that heat
for half an hour, and reducing it rapidly to a temperature
of 50 degrees. By this process the milk is freed of any
harmful bacteria while little if any of its nutritive value
is eliminated. There is evidence that pasteurization does
destroy some of the scant vitamin C in milk, but orange
juice has the same vitamin in abundance, and the loss can
therefore be compensated.
Certified milk does not require pasteurization, because
it is produced under such rigid supervision that any danger
of infection is reduced to a minimum. In 1909, five years
after it had pioneered in America by introducing certified
milk, New Jersey enacted a law governing its production.
Certified milk is expensive to produce and therefore
has a limited market. At present there are only five or
six farms in the State producing this grade of milk. Each
of these farms is under the direct supervision of a board
of five physicians known as the Medical Milk Commis-
DAIRY FARMING IN NEW JERSEY 283
sion. They superintend the activities of a chemist, a vet-
erinarian, a physician, a bacteriologist and a sanitary in-
spector, who check every step in the production. The
chemist sees that the milk contains at least 4% of butter-
fat j the veterinarian tests the cattle for disease and rejects
from the herd any cow which is not in perfect health or
which produces less than three quarts of milk a day; the
bacteriologist superintends blood tests and bacteria counts;
the physician examines the men who handle the milk at
least once every six months and visits the plant at least
once a week to guard against communicable disease; and
the sanitary inspector sees that the barn equipment and
the surroundings comply with the specifications of the
law as to light, air and cleanliness.
Uniforms worn by the men are examined, utensils are
carefully checked for contamination and rust, and the
corners and crannies of the barns are investigated. After
such control, one can be quite sure that milk from certi-
fied farms is pure. In addition, certified milk must be
delivered to the consumer no later than 36 hours after
production.
More extensively distributed are the New Jersey Offi-
cial Grade A Pasteurized and Grade A Raw, standards
for which were set on August 31, 1931, by the State
Department of Agriculture. If a dealer wants the ap-
proval of the State and the right to cap his bottles with
the official cover, bearing an outline map of the State and
the legend, "New Jersey Official Grade A Pasteurized"
or "New Jersey Official Grade A Raw" he must comply
with the regulations specified by the Department of
Agriculture.
New Jersey Grade A milk must contain no less than
Z T /2% butterfat and no less than 12% in solids. It must
284 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
be cooled to 50 degrees not later than 60 minutes after
production. Delivery to the consumer must be made
within 48 hours, in mechanically filled and capped bottles
or single service containers. All herds are subject to the
cooperative supervision of the State and Federal Depart-
ments of Agriculture, and all cows must be tuberculin
tested periodically. The dairy employees are examined
twice a year.
These premier grades of milk, however, constitute only
about 30% of the milk sold in New Jersey. Grade B,
most commonly used, is subject to standards set by the
communities in which it is sold. The milk companies that
gather the product from widely scattered farms are re-
sponsible to the health authorities of the communities in
which they distribute milk. For their own protection,
therefore, they must keep the farms which supply them
under close supervision. They impose regulations as to
housing, fodder, health and handling of the cows. The
farmer who hopes to sell his product through a first class
dealer dare not become careless or allow any contamina-
tion to creep into his herd.
In general, dairy farmers fall into two classes: the pro-
ducer and the produce-dealer. The first has only to cool
the milk immediately to 60 degrees Fahrenheit or below
and deliver it to the distributor's creamery. There it is
tested, weighed, and piped into an insulated truck where
it will be kept cold until it reaches the pasteurization
plant. A producer-dealer must cool his milk, pasteurize it
if it is not to be sold as raw, bottle it, and then make
deliveries. There are about 800 of these producer-dealers
in New Jersey.
After the milk has been cooled a small amount may go
to a machine called the separator for the extraction of
DAIRY FARMING IN NEW JERSEY 285
cream. The milk is whirled around in a metal container.
Centrifugal force drives the milk, which is heavier than
cream, to the outer edge where it is drawn off, while the
cream finds an exit near the center. The skim milk is used
for cultured milks, cheese or animal feeding.
The large dealers, who obtain their supply from many
producers, organize their plants so that the milk passes
from one process to another without exposure to the air
or human touch, and with amazing speed. Drawn from
the trucks, it goes directly by way of pipes into the pas-
teurization tanks. From there it passes through a series
of artificially cooled pipes and is immediately bottled by
a high-speed automatic process which fills and caps 120
bottles a minute.
The last word in high speed production of milk is the
Walker-Gordon farm at Plainsboro, near Princeton. At
this highly organized "milk factory" every step of the
process, literally from the ground up, is studied to effect
the production of the best quality milk with maximum
efficiency. Here the cattle are housed in clean barns, in a
setting of sunny pasture land. The soil of the fields where
fodder is grown is fed with the minerals necessary to sup-
ply nutritious crops so that, although confined to the barn,
the cows are assured a balanced diet. When the fodder is
cut it is dehydrated mechanically. This method eliminates
the moisture quickly and preserves more of the elements
that make for better milk than is possible by sun drying.
The fodder is then stored away in silos as tall as five-story
buildings until the time of use. At that time a train of
small carts carries it from the silos to the clean, white
barns where it is fed in accurate quantities to the cows.
The cows, clipped, clean and manicured, eat their fill and
Courtesy Walker Gordon Milk Co.
THE ROTOLACTOR
then are led to a unique device in mechanical production
of milk the rotolactor.
This giant electric contrivance, capable of milking 250
cows an hour, is comparable to the assembly line in an
automobile plant. Three times a day the cows are driven
from the barns or pastures through a covered runway
and are literally "taken for a ride;" for the rotolactor is
a revolving platform, a merry-go-round for cows. As the
platform turns, the cow steps on, her head is secured in
a stanchion, and she is given a mechanical shower bath.
As she continues her circular trip she is dried by an attend-
ant in a white uniform j then she passes an attendant who
takes a sample of her milk and examines it. Should it
appear abnormal in any way, the cow is not milked in the
rotolactor. If the cow passes muster, the milking device is
applied. This is a rubber nipple which draws the milk
DAIRY FARMING IN NEW JERSEY 287
from the cow mechanically and pumps it into a large
sterilized jar attached to the side of her stall. The milking
continues as the platform revolves.
Meanwhile, one by one, more cows step into place on
the platform and go through the routine. When a cow
has completed the revolution she is released, a record of
her milk is taken, and the milk is discharged through a
sanitary sluice direct to the coolers. The rotolactor is in
the center of an air-conditioned room with tiled walls and
floor. Above the "merry-go-round" is a glass-enclosed
room from which visitors may observe every step of the
process.
But care, cleanliness and food are not the only fac-
tors to be considered by the dairy farmer. Since he is in
the milk business, he must see that he is operating effi-
ciently. This means a study not only of the process and
the equipment, but also of the materials which go to make
his product. And it is, after all, the cows which make the
milk. The amount of milk yielded by a cow varies with
the breed and the physical condition of the animal. In
New Jersey, Holsteins and Guernseys predominate, but
there are also many important Jersey, Ayrshire and
Brown Swiss herds. There are 24 cow-testing associations
under State supervision recording production of milk and
consumption of feed and planning continual improve-
ments in methods of breeding and feeding. It is gener-
ally felt that an animal possessing a wide barrel, which
is the part of the body between the shoulder and the
hips, a wide muzzle and mouth, velvety skin, and coming
from a family long established as a plentiful producer of
milk, will turn out to be a good investment. A first class
cow will give an average of 10 to 15 quarts a day.
The question of what is a reasonable profit for farmer
288 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
and dealer and a fair price for the consumer has resulted
in considerable conflict. In some States there have been
violent disturbances and destruction of property by farm-
ers, who complained that they were not receiving enough
for their milk to pay them to produce it. Because New
Jersey's dairy investment in land, buildings and equip-
ment approaches $100,000,000, one-third of the agricul-
tural investment of the State, and the annual yield comes
close to $25,000,000, it was thought necessary in 1933 to
create a Milk Control Board to regulate the price of milk
from farm to table. The board, composed of five persons
appointed by the Governor, has fixed the prices of milk
in the various areas of New Jersey. It regulates the price
the processer must pay to the farmer, the price he can
collect from the subdealer or storekeeper, and the final
price the consumer must pay when he goes to the store or
orders from his milkman.
The progressive farmer bases his calculation on the
average yearly production of every animal in his herd.
He checks his fodder, pasturage and equipment carefully.
He knows about how much milk to expect from each cow
in a year, and he knows that this must represent substan-
tially more than the cost of feeding a cow. At his disposal
he has the facilities and the experiments of the State agri-
cultural agencies in feeding and caring for cattle.
In addition to the problems of milk production, the
scientists are conducting constant research to introduce
new elements into milk, or alter it to meet special needs.
The vitamin content of milk can now be increased by arti-
ficial means. The addition of colonies of certain bacteria
produces cultured milk, particularly suited to certain types
of digestive disorders.
So that the New Jersey of the future shall not lack its
DAIRY FARMING IN NEW JERSEY 289
quota of capable farmers, the 4-H Clubs, organized under
the Agricultural Extension Service, are doing valuable
work in educating boys and girls in the best methods of
agriculture. The clubs are divided according to the various
branches of agriculture. The 4-H Dairy clubs are com-
posed of young people from the ages of 10 to 21 who
meet regularly to receive training and discuss the various
phases of cattle raising. A member must own at least one
purebred dairy animal no younger than four months or
older than five years. This calf is raised according to the
most progressive methods, fed the best available forage,
and, if a good milk producer, is entered in one of the
local, county or State 4-H contests. The highest reported
record of milk from a cow bred by a 4-H member was
6,616 quarts, more than twice the State average of 3,000
quarts.
For those children who cannot borrow the money for
a calf from their parents the New Jersey Junior Pure
Breeders' Fund was established in 1921 by former Senator
J. S. Frelinghuysen and Julius Forstmann. This fund,
originally of $30,000, has enabled 1,318 young people to
take up dairying. The amount loaned does not exceed
$100, and the interest is 6%. By taking advantage of this
fund, and by buying an animal under the supervision of
the county club agent, the youngster is fairly certain of
a profitable venture. Many of the members of 4-H have
gone on to the colleges of agriculture and to the owner-
ship of large and thriving farms, applying to excellent
purpose the first lessons learned under the banner of
Head, Hands, Heart, and Health.
JERSEY PEACHES
The reputation of a peach depends not only on its
beauty but on its flavor. For the last 32 years the job of
making peaches taste better has been carried on most effec-
tively in New Jersey, but the history of the improvement
of peaches extends far back to ancient China, where some
of the rarest specimens can still be obtained. New Jersey
has been building toward better-tasting and better-looking
peaches to increase the income of the peach growers in
the State.
One of the oldest fruits known to man, the peach was
once reserved only for the tables of emperors and nobles.
During the Crusades they were brought from China,
India and Persia by caravan, and later they were grown
in Spain and England. By extensive culture they became
more common, spread throughout Europe and were
brought to America by early colonists. It is certain from
early letters and writings that the peach flourished
throughout New Jersey in the i8th century.
The peach growers in the Colonies from Delaware to
Connecticut were more successful than the Europeans.
Though at first the crop was limited and probably of
little commercial value, the industry developed by experi-
mentation. In 1806 the catalogue issued by Daniel Smith
of Burlington, one of the first fruit tree nurserymen of
record in America, listed 67 varieties of peaches. It was
not until 1823, however, that Nation-wide attention was
directed to a New Jersey peach. In that year a Mr. Gill
290
JERSEY PEACHES 2QI
then residing on Broad Street in Newark developed the
Grosse Mignonne peach, which originated in France.
Michael Floy, a Hunterdon County farmer, obtained sev-
eral of Gill's peach buds, grafted them to his own stock
and renamed his fruit the George IV, in honor of the
King of England, patron of peach breeding and honorary
president of the London Horticultural Society. In 1824
he sent a sample of this peach to the Society, where it was
recognized as a valuable new variety.
New Jersey grew in importance as a peach-growing
State with the development of such varieties as the Early
and Late Crawford, named for a peach grower of Mid-
dletown. In the middle of the igth century most of the
orchards were in Hunterdon and Warren Counties, but
during the next 50 years the industry shifted to the
southern part of the State.
By the turn of the 2Oth century the industry had almost
gone. Attacked by fruit pests known as the San Jose scale,
peach yellow and peach borer, peach trees were dying by
the thousands. Returns had dwindled to such an extent
that growers were neglecting their orchards, and it seemed
that New Jersey farmers would soon lose this once impor-
tant source of revenue.
This was the situation in 1906 when Maurice A. Blake,
a young professor of horticulture in the New Jersey Agri-
cultural College at New Brunswick, began to investigate
the cause of the decline.
After making a preliminary investigation, he established
a research and demonstration orchard at High Bridge.
In 1908 another peach orchard was set up on the grounds
of the Training School at Vineland, and a third was later
established at the College Farm at New Brunswick. In
these orchards large scale experiments were carried on,
STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
while Blake kept an eye on the crops of other peach-pro-
ducing States and the prices their products brought in the
market. He decided that the only hope for New Jersey
peach growers was to develop new varieties that were par-
ticularly suited to New Jersey climate and soil.
No one realized better than Professor Blake that this
was a task that would take years of patient work. At the
Vineland Training School, in 1914, peach trees were im-
ported from many foreign lands and from other States
for crossbreeding. The new seedlings that developed from
the crossbreeding were numbered, examined and tested
not only in the experimental orchards but on private farms
in various sections of the State. Not until Professor Blake
was positive of the results and possibilities of any one
seedling was a peach given a name.
Today, at New Brunswick, Blake has control of the
largest peach-breeding grounds in the world. On 20 acres
of land he has planted and propagated the most widely
diversified collection of the fruit in existence. A total of
350 named peach varieties have been tested, and no fewer
than 20,000 peach trees have borne fruit in these orchards.
There are nearly 4,000 peach seedlings under preliminary
observation, and experimentation still goes on.
Most famous, most delicious, and the highest-priced of
Blake's crossbreedings is the Golden Jubilee peach. It
received its name from the fact that the "Mother Jubilee"
tree first bore fruit about August 17, 1925, on the 5Oth
anniversary of the formation of the New Jersey Horti-
cultural Society. Eighteen years is a ripe old age for a
peach tree (the average life is from 12 to 14 years), but in
1938 the "Mother Jubilee" tree still yielded her fruit.
No one knows the extent of her family, but in this State
alone it constitutes about one-fourth of the industry.
Courtesy N. J. Agricultural Experiment Station
MOTHER JUBILEE TREE
Among some of the important species and varieties de-
veloped at the College Farm under Professor Blake's
direction are several of rather curious shape. One of these,
the Peen-to or Saucer peach, of China, is broad, shaped
somewhat like a flat tomato. Another curious peach intro-
duced from China is called the Eagle's Beak because of
its long, curved tip. The flesh is very sweet, much like
the so-called Honey peaches, also from China. A third is
the result of the crossbreeding of the Chinese Blood (an
immense peach with blood-red flesh, but rather acid
flavor) with the Sargent's Chinese, a variety which is
white, almost free of red color, and exceedingly sweet.
The New Jersey Station is now experimenting with
crossbreeding the J. H. Hale, a large, well-known variety,
and Prunus Kansuensis, a bush peach obtained from the
mountains of Tibet by plant explorers of the United
States Department of Agriculture. This wild peach can
294 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
withstand the cold when in blossom better than the do-
mestic varieties. If the hardiness of the bush peach from
the Orient can be combined with the size and flavor of
the home peach, the season in New Jersey will be
lengthened.
The latest sensational product of Professor Blake's de-
velopments is the improvement of the nectarine. This is
a peach without fuzz, often seen on the fruit stands. It has
a delicious flavor, but it tends to be smaller than the
peach.
Five counties in the southern part of the State supply
the majority of the industry's output: Burlington, Cum-
berland, Camden, Atlantic and Gloucester. Many tourists
visit this section in the spring to see the flowering trees
that stretch for miles. The peaches are sold in various
centers of these peach-growing counties (Glassboro, Ham-
monton, etc.) at peach auctions and then shipped to the
nearby markets in Philadelphia and New York.
One step which helped the growth of the industry was
the formation, in 1929, of the New Jersey Peach Council,
an organization of leading peach growers who distributed
226,000 peach trees (mostly to Jersey men) for testing
under commercial conditions. Results from experiments
with new varieties have encouraged growers to increase
their plantings.
Today New Jersey, the fourth smallest State, is the
fourth largest peach producer with an annual output of
about 15,000,000 bushels. That is enough to supply a
peach pie to every school child in America, every day
for a month. "Jersey Peaches" are once more market
favorites.
INDUSTRY
THE VANISHED BOG-IRON INDUSTRY
The "Pine Barrens" of New Jersey, a fan-shaped sec-
tion spreading over parts of Ocean, Monmouth, Burling-
ton, Atlantic and Cape May Counties, is a region of silent
woods and bogland, of lazy streams and sluggish rivers.
With cranberries, blueberries, and a few other crops the
inhabitants manage to wrest a bare living from the swampy
lands.
Once these woods resounded with the blows of axes,
the shouts of workmen and the ring of anvils, as flames
from charcoal burners, forges and furnaces lighted the sky.
The streams, now trickling over the flat land, rushed
vigorously enough to supply water power for the wheels
of gristmills, sawmills, forges and furnaces. The rivers,
shallow now and deserted, carried tall ships with heavy
cargoes on their way to New York, Philadelphia and other
large centers.
This was the home of the bog-iron industry, which in
the early history of the country gave New Jersey high
rank in iron production. The metal dug from the banks of
the streams and the beds of watercourses in southern New
Jersey, while softer than the iron from the northern hills,
had the advantage of being more easily mined and could
be shipped quickly and cheaply to the outside markets.
Land transportation, depending on horse- or mule-drawn
wagons, was slower and very expensive. Twenty miles of
road transportation cost 30 shillings a ton, whereas ship-
ping the same distance cost only five shillings.
297
298 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
A successful bog-iron furnace required at least 20,000
acres of timberland for a constant supply of charcoal. The
densely forested tracts, where the iron works were situ-
ated, were usually divided into sections of 1,000 acres each,
one of which would furnish a year's supply of charcoal
for a furnace. By the time the last section had been used
up, trees on the first section had grown large enough to
be cut.
Bog iron is found in the lowlands and meadows of many
parts of the State where water tinged with vegetable mat-
ter percolates through beds of marl or strata contain-
ing iron deposits. The iron material is picked up by the
water and held in solution in the form of iron oxide. As
the water emerges from the ground and becomes exposed
to the air the solids are precipitated and leave the reddish,
muddy iron deposit along the banks of streams or in the
beds of swamps and wet meadows. The process goes on
continuously. An exhausted bed will renew itself in from
20 to 40 years.
As soon as the early settlers discovered the presence of
iron deposits, they set about establishing forges and fur-
naces. By 1750 England was allowing the importation of
American iron free of duty, and the iron could be shipped
as ballast at a slight cost. But as early as 1719 English
iron manufacturers had agitated to curtail the manufac-
ture of iron goods in America. Nevertheless, iron works
sprang up at various points throughout the colony, and
during the Revolutionary War they were taxed to their
capacity turning out much-needed cannon and other muni-
tions for the Continental Army.
Compared to the vast production of today, the yield of
iron before the I9th century seems insignificant. In 1783,
according to a report written by Samuel Gustaf Hermelin,
THE VANISHED BOG-IRON INDUSTRY 2Q9
a Swedish engineer who had come here to investigate the
iron industry, the entire annual pig-iron output of New
Jersey, including that of the hard-iron furnaces in the
north and the bog-iron furnaces in the south, amounted
to only 3,500 tons. Today one New Jersey furnace alone
produces more than 300,000 tons annually.
The bog-iron communities were set up much like the
feudal estates of medieval Europe. Sometimes as many as
600 people would be living in one of these communities
close to the furnace or forge in the heart of the woods.
The center of communal life was the master's -(manager's)
home, called the "big house," usually an elaborate estab-
lishment with a vegetable patch and flower garden. Here
the workmen brought their problems and grievances, and
the stranger could always find supper and a night's lodg-
ing. Schools, stores, churches, sawmills and gristmills were
built for the workers and their families. These were ex-
empt from taxation only as long as they produced just
enough for the needs of the community.
Skilled workers from the iron-producing countries of
Europe were offered every inducement to immigrate, and
yet their rate of pay seems ridiculously low today. Wages
varied between $20 and $25 a month, paid mostly in
goods. In some cases the price of goods such as flour and
pork was marked up 25% over the wholesale cost, while
such things as tea, coffee, cloth, sugar and rum, which
were imported, were marked up 50%. Many preferred
to work for lower wages in cash.
Much of the work was done by slaves and indentured
servants, who were brought overseas under contract to
pay off the cost of their passage in three years' time. Dur-
ing this period they were given food and lodging but no
3OO STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
money. The ironmaster was obliged to supply them with
a suit of new clothes when the three years were up.
Smelting and Forging
The ore was transported by wagons or floated down-
stream in barges to the nearest furnace for conversion into
pig iron. The furnace, a four-sided stack of stone or brick,
20 feet or more in height, tapered from a 24-foot base to
about a 1 6-foot peak. Where possible, the furnace was
built against a rise in the land to permit the construction
of an incline, or ramp, from the top of which the tons of
charcoal, ore and lime could be passed into the structure
to form alternate layers.
The fire was started, and "tub bellows," operated by
water power from a nearby dammed stream, supplied a
forced draft. As the ore heated, the vegetable matter was
burned away, and the lime reacted on the hot iron salts
to form molten iron.
The impurities rose to the surface as slag and flowed
off through a tap hole at the top metal line. The molten
metal, drawn off at the bottom of the furnace, was led
through runners to the "sows" and "pigs," molds cut in
the sandy floor. The sows, as the name implies, were
larger than the pigs.
Near the furnace was the forge, where the pigs were
heated and hammered into bar iron by a giant 400- to 600-
pound hammer, which beat out the impurities. One end
of the hammer was attached to a beam that was alternately
lifted and dropped by a cam on the water wheel. The
blacksmith who operated the heavy hammer was required
to produce one ton of bar iron from 2,800 pounds of pig.
For anything in excess of that amount he received extra
pay 5 for any less he had to make up the deficit.
THE VANISHED BOG-IRON INDUSTRY 30 I
From the bar iron, by the same primitive, slow meth-
ods, were hammered out the pots, pans, kettles, fire irons
and nails for the homes of the settlers, spikes for their
ships and, later, cannon and munitions for the Conti-
nental Army. Early in the igth century stoves, lamp-
posts, water pipes and other iron articles were being man-
ufactured. Day and night the glare from the fire glowed
in the sky above the dark treetops. From about the middle
of April, when the furnace was put in blast, there was no
let-up in the work until January, when ice formed in the
stream and stopped the water wheel. Then the furnace
was blown out, and there was a celebration.
Some Early Furnaces
Charles Read, an enterprising politician, gave the South
Jersey iron industry its greatest impetus. Collector of the
Port of Burlington, a member of the Provincial Assembly,
a Judge of the Supreme Court and an outstanding leader
in public affairs, Read determined to become the greatest
ironmaster of the Province. About 1750, having recog-
nized the possibilities of the bog-iron resources, he set
about developing the industry on some large tracts of land
which he owned. Shortly, however, he was forced by poor
health to dispose of much of his property and to leave
his affairs in the hands of trustees, keeping only a part
interest in some of the iron plants he had started. But the
industry he had set in motion was to continue for 80 years
and to attract to the unbroken forests thousands of people.
Four of the most important bog-iron works grew from
Read's dream: Taunton, Aetna, Atsion and Batsto.
Taunton Furnace, about n miles southwest of Mount
Holly, on what is now called Haines Creek, opened in
1766. Four years later Read offered it for sale, calling
INGOT AND DIGGER FROM TAUNTON FURNACE
attention to the fact that it had an advantage over many
other works farther back in the woods because transporta-
tion to Philadelphia cost only 10 shillings a ton. The fur-
nace, according to Read, had a capacity of 80 tons of pig
iron a month. The plant continued in operation until about
1847, when the mill pond and the adjacent property were
converted into a cranberry bog.
The second of Read's iron works, Aetna Furnace, which
was in full operation by 1768, was about 10 miles from
Taunton, on the southwest branch of Rancocas Creek. It
is not certain just when this furnace closed, but by 1790
the water power was being used to operate a gristmill and
sawmill, the foundations of which are still visible. The
old dam has been rebuilt and the mill pond is now called
Aetna Lake.
Atsion Forge, on Atsion River about 20 miles south-
east of Medford, was an important one with a capacity of
150 or 200 tons of bar iron annually. During its early
days many Indians from the Edge Pillock reservation,
three miles away, were employed there. After the Revo-
lution the forge turned out pots and kettles of various
OLD MILL AND POND AT BATSTO
sizes, as well as stoves. Two of these old stoves, made
probably about 1815, are in the old First Presbyterian
Church in Bridgeton. The products of the forge were
carried to merchants in New York, Albany and Pough-
keepsie on the Atsion, a schooner which ran regularly
between the Mullica River and Albany. Unlike most of
the south Jersey forges, the Atsion Furnace converted
"mountain ores" from north Jersey as well as the bog
ores, and in 1828 was getting $100 a ton for bar iron, as
compared to the present price of about $20 a ton.
Batsto Furnace, established in 1766, figured conspicu-
ously in an episode of the Revolutionary War commemo-
rated by a monument near Chestnut Neck, an important
Revolutionary shipping point on Mullica River. In Octo-
ber 1778 the British had made a surprise attack on
the Chestnut Neck colony and destroyed the storehouse.
Captain Ferguson set out with 800 British troops to dis-
mantle Batsto Furnace, about 10 miles farther up the
river, which was working at fever heat to make muni-
tions for Washington's army. One of the patriots at Chest-
304 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
nut Neck, suspecting the plan, warned the commander of
the militia. As the British pitched camp in the woods a
few miles from the furnace, a general alarm was sounded
by messengers riding furiously through the darkening
countryside. By midnight a force of 90 woodsmen, iron-
workers and farmers had gathered for an ambush. Almost
every bullet found its man as the British advanced at
dawn, and the invaders retired in confusion. Batsto and
its stores were saved.
After the Revolution a glass works was built at Batsto,
and a host of workmen were kept busy. An advertisement
in a Philadelphia paper gives an idea of the variety of
articles produced.
Manufactured at Batsto Furnace in West Jersey,
and to be sold, either at the works or by the sub-
scriber in Philadelphia: A great variety of iron pots,
kettles, Dutch ovens, oval fish kettles, either with
or without covers, skillets of different sizes, being
much lighter, neater and superior in quality to any
imported from Great Britain potash, and other
large kettles from 30 to 125 gallons ; sugar mill-
gudgeons neatly rounded and polished at the ends;
grating bars of different lengths, grist-mill rounds;
weights of all sizes from 7 to 56; Fuller's plates,
open and closed stoves of different sizes, rag-wheel
irons for saw-mills; pestles and mortars; sash-weights
and forge hammers of the best quality. Also Batsto
Pig-iron as usual, the quality of which is too well
known to need any recommendation.
At Batsto also were made the iron pipes that replaced
many miles of wooden water conduits in Philadelphia and
THE VANISHED BOG-IRON INDUSTRY 305
Camden in the early I9th century. The Batsto works con-
tinued in operation until 1848, when, like the other New
Jersey forges and furnaces, it was forced out of business
by the development of the Pennsylvania iron fields.
Relics and Remains
Batsto today is a ghost of the thriving settlement of a
century ago. Beside the macadam road that runs through
the lonely pine woods is an old mill where lumber is still
sawed, and there are scattered frame houses, unpainted
and weather-beaten, inhabited by families who barely man-
age to earn a living from odd jobs and small gardens. The
old company store, a plain stucco building, is closed; the
great stucco mansion with a tower, now owned by the
Lippincott family of Philadelphia, is silent except for
occasional week-end parties. The sound of water pouring
through a gate beneath the bridge is all that disturbs the
quiet.
Not even this much marks a site on Landing Creek, a
branch of the Mullica River, opposite the present village
of Lower Bank, where John Richards in 1813 established
Gloucester Furnace, which employed about 125 workers.
His uncle was Colonel William Richards, then owner of
the Batsto and Atsion Furnaces. Once important as a stop
on the stage route from Camden to Leed's Point on the
seacoast, the village is slowly sinking into the dust. No
one is left.
Only a few iron relics in the soil, the half-obliterated
outlines of the furnace foundation and two long piles of
slag among scraps of castings evidence the work that once
went on here. The old sawmill is now a pile of decaying
sawdust; a portion of a sluiceway and a rusted water
306 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
wheel are the remaining parts of the gristmill; and the
once broad Mullica River has narrowed into shallows.
In Ocean County, about seven miles south of Barnegat,
near the present village of Staffordsville, Stafford Forge
Cranberry Bog now covers the site of old Stafford Forge.
The forge was built on West Creek in 1797 by John
Lippincott, who did a large business here for 10 years.
The bog-iron industry has been dead for more than 80
years. What has become of the furnaces, the villages, the
communal life, the schools, the taverns? Where did the
people go?
Today piles of slag, an occasional dam, a chimney, the
foundations of a house, old cannonballs, crumbling rem-
nants of forges and rotted splinters of the homes of the
men who worked the bog-iron mines are all that remain
of these once busy woodland villages. The forests echo
only the sounds of birds, or the roar of motor cars on their
way to and from the Jersey coast. The lonely rivers flow
through miles of empty country, inhabited sparsely by
people called "Pineys."
The section is traversed by highways, wide and hard-
surfaced, with signposts, gas stations everything to pro-
vide comfort and safety for both car and driver. But off
the road is the barren, fire-swept, decaying land of the
"Pineys." Few tourists come here. There are no gas or
electricity, no service stations, no billboards in the woods.
The few road signs are dilapidated, and, more often than
not, misspelled. It is a different world this pine belt
where once the bog-iron industry flourished. Apathy has
settled on the land as on its inhabitants. They live close
to modern progress, yet remote from it.
TWO CENTURIES OF GLASSMAKING
The early settlers on the American continent needed
window glass badly. They were building log cabins and
leaving rectangular openings in the walls which served
well enough to let in the air and sunshine in the summer.
But in the winter, when they needed all the sunshine they
could get and less of the cold breezes, they had a problem
on their hands. Some used oiled paper which let in a little
light but, because it was very thin, also kept the cabin
cold. Others tacked skins over the windows and endured
the gloom all through the winter. Only the wealthiest
traders and proprietors could afford glass for their win-
dows, for it had to be imported, and the loss from break-
age on the rough voyages made the cost prohibitive.
The glass industry was founded in New Jersey in 1738
by Caspar Wistar, an enterprising German button manu-
facturer from Philadelphia. There had been previous un-
successful attempts to make glass in America in James-
town, Virginia, New York State, Vermont and New
Hampshire. Wistar came to New Jersey because it was
ideally equipped for the manufacture of glass. It had a
limitless supply of white sand to furnish the chief ingre-
dient, silica, and acres of pine forest to provide charcoal
for fuel.
When Wistar decided that opportunity was awaiting
him across the Delaware in South Jersey, he lost no time
in acquiring a parcel of land. A native of the glassmaking
section of Germany, Wistar realized that if his new ven-
307
m
OLD WISTAR GLASS
ture was to be a success he would need expert workmen.
He bargained with a sea captain, James Marshall, to bring
from Europe workmen who would teach him and his
assistants the secrets of their craft. In return for the for-
mulas and their help he agreed to pay for their voyage,
furnish them homes, food, servants, and give them a third
of the profits of the enterprise. About three miles south-
east of the present town of Alloway he built a glass fur-
nace, workers' homes, a general store and a mansion
house. The little settlement around the glass works soon
came to be known as Wistarburgh.
At first Caspar Wistar and his artisans made only win-
dow glass, in five sizes ; many kinds of bottles, lamp chim-
neys and drinking glasses. But, as their skill increased,
they made ornaments in a great variety of shapes and
colors. They developed a technique of decorating their
colored glass objects with whorls of white or contrasting
colors. The delicate tints of blue and green found in
Wistarburgh glass have, according to many authorities,
TWO CENTURIES OF GLASSMAKING 309
never been reproduced, nor have other makers success-
fully copied the intricate designs that characterize this
antique glass, now a collectors' prize. The Wistarburgh
works also produced a great deal of glass in deep tones,
amber, brown and very dark green and blue. To Wistar
is given the credit for having been the first to produce
flint glass, a particularly clear glass made from powdered
flint. This term is now applied to any colorless glass made
with lead oxide, such as that used for windows.
So wide was the renown of this first glass plant that a
highway was constructed from Philadelphia to the doors
of the glass house. Stages brought the fashionable people
to watch the intricate process and to carry away as me-
mentos some of the novel ornaments produced. The tiny
scent bottles, favorites of the ladies of the day, were said
to be so small and delicately formed that they could be
slipped into a glove without being noticeable.
Caspar Wistar died in 1752, leaving the works to be
managed by his son, Richard. Richard seems, however, to
have preferred the city. He moved to Philadelphia and
left a manager in charge of the glass house. In his absence
the Wistarburgh works gradually declined. The depres-
sion that followed the Revolution finally forced it to close
its doors. Some of the secrets of the process that made
Wistar glass distinctive died with Richard Wistar in
1781.
But the Wistarburgh glass works had started an indus-
try that spread rapidly throughout southern New Jersey.
Glassmakers, having learned the art, would set up in busi-
ness for themselves or be lured away to other glass works
by promises of higher pay or better working conditions.
A glass plant was started at what was to become Glass-
boro, in the Township of Clayton, then a collection of
3IO STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
perhaps a dozen log cabins, by a German widow, Cath-
erine Stanger, and her seven sons. They had learned their
trade under the master craftsmen employed by Wistar.
The Stangers founded their plant in 1775, and became
famous for flasks, bottles and vials which were much in
demand by distillers in Philadelphia and New York. The
brothers proved capable glassmakers but poor business-
men. Only nine years after their plant was opened, it was
purchased at a sheriff's sale by Thomas Heston and
Thomas Carpenter. From them it passed to the Whitney
Brothers and later to the Owens Bottle Works, subsidiary
of the Owens-Illinois Glass Company, present operators
of large plants in Bridgeton.
Despite the failure of New Jersey's two best-known
glass manufacturers, the industry developed rapidly
throughout the first part of the I9th century. The deli-
cacy and artistry of the Wistar and Stanger products were
replaced by more commonplace workmanship on a sounder
business basis. Glassmakers pushed east into Cumberland
County and concentrated their work at Bridgeton and
Millville, which continue today to be the center of glass
production in the State. The Whitall-Tatum Company of
Millville bases its claim to the title of "the oldest glass
plant in the United States" on its descent from a company
founded there in 1806.
Attracted by the sand, fuel and water resources, glass-
makers soon spread over the wide section. By 1837 they
had moved into Atlantic County at Estelville and Ham-
monton. At about the same time important plants were
in operation at Winslow and Clementon in Camden
County and at Malaga in the eastern part of Gloucester
County. In many cases bog-iron manufacturers set up
glass houses near their furnaces.
TWO CENTURIES OF GLASSMAKING J I I
About 1850 a syndicate of glass and iron interests was
responsible for the construction of the Camden and Atlan-
tic, South Jersey's first east-west railroad of any impor-
tance. At first it ran only as far east as Winslow, but in
1854 the road was extended to Absecon, which later
became Atlantic City.
At the close of 1868 the number of glass factories in the
State had risen to 13, with 10 furnaces producing about
$1,000,000 worth of window glass, and 20 other furnaces
capable of a yield of $1,500,000 worth of hollow-ware
goods, plates, saucers, bowls and similar items.
In the boom days following the Civil War, a number
of speculators came into South Jersey and set up glass
works on little capital and less experience. Towns grew
up overnight, only to be abandoned when the great finan-
cial panic in 1873 wiped out many of these manufacturers
and hurt the glass industry in general. Two memorials to
such enterprise are Hermann City and Bulltown. In 1873
the former was a boom town with at least 60 or 70 houses,
a store and a hotel clustered around the glass plant.
Before the year was out the town was little more than a
crossroads spot. It is little more today. Rotting rails for
cars that were never built, ruined kilns, cold for decades
after a brief, intense heat, and crumbling wharves along
the Mullica River are the unpleasant reminders today of
the high hopes of Hermann City. Nor is there more at
Bulltown. A few pieces of brick kilns mingled with glass
on the sandy road are hardly enough to recall the demi-
johns and jugs made here for a brief time.
In addition to speculation, other factors contributed to
the decline of the glass industry in southern New Jersey.
Railroads and highways were slow in linking the region
with the rest of the State and Nation. Coal had taken the
3 I 2 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
place of wood as fuel for the glass furnaces, and freight
charges from the coal fields of western Pennsylvania to
New Jersey made the location of the industries in this
State an unprofitable business. Finally, a more desirable
pink sand was discovered in the Ohio Valley and in Illi-
nois, closer to the source of fuel. Once again glassmakers
followed the call of superior materials and cheaper rates,
and gradually Ohio and Illinois have displaced New
Jersey as the leading glass states.
The glass industry in New Jersey today is centered in
Cumberland and Gloucester Counties. According to the
J 935 U. S. Census of Manufacturers, there were eight
glass establishments in the State, employing 4,666 people,
with a total value of manufactured products of $15,941,-
622. The most important plants are the Owens-Illinois
Glass Company, Bridgeton; Gaynor Glass Works, Salem j
Kimball Glass Works, Vineland; Whitall-Tatum Com-
pany, Millville; and the Owens-Illinois branch in Glass-
boro. The discovery of a lOO-foot bed of glass sand ex-
tending under five southern New Jersey counties may
become an impetus to the industry in the State.
Along with many other great industries that are reach-
ing out into every corner of existence, glass, because of
modern methods of mechanical production, is constantly
widening its field of usefulness. The millions of incandes-
cent electric bulbs and the miles of thin glass tubing for
neon lights could never have been produced by the old
time hand-blown methods. Likewise, increased knowledge
of tempering and grinding fine glass for lenses has made
possible the powerful microscope. The tremendous 200-
inch telescope at Mount Wilson Observatory in California
will have a mirror with a glass base that will expand or
TWO CENTURIES OF GLASSMAKING 3 I 3
contract less than would metal, thus providing the accu-
racy necessary for astronomical observations.
Until the beginning of this century the methods of
making glass had changed very little from those em-
ployed by the artisans of ancient Egypt and Venice and
the latter day European and American manufacturers.
Modern machinery has speeded up production and re-
duced what was once a fine art to a mechanical trade. In
an up-to-date factory, from the weighing of the ingredi-
ents to the final delivery of the finished product at the
end of a carrying belt, the entire process is carried out
automatically. There are still small sections, however,
even in the most highly mechanized glass factories, where
the old methods are used to produce ornaments and other
objects requiring special care. Here one may see the glass
blowers practicing their ancient art.
In the making of glass the chief ingredients are sand,
lime and soda. These, with whatever other materials are
required to produce the desired color, are mixed together
to form the batch. In the old days the batch was mixed
on the floor of the glass house, shoveled into clay pots and
placed in the furnace to melt. The men worked until the
pots were emptied. They then had to stand around while
another batch was prepared. To avoid this delay the con-
tinuous tank furnace was developed. In it the heat plays
along the surface of the pool of glass instead of under-
neath, so that new batches may be added at the melting
end without disturbing the glass that is being melted,
while melted glass can be withdrawn continuously from
the "refining" end without interruption. The capacity of
the modern furnace of this type varies greatly, many
being able to produce 100 tons of glass a day.
The molten glass is raised to temperatures ranging
314 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
from 2,800 to 3,400 degrees Fahrenheit, the hardness of
the finished product depending on the temperature and
the ingredients.
In handwork, now a minor factor in the industry, the
furnace has several apertures for the introduction of blow-
pipes. The glass blower is equipped with a blow-iron, a
tube of iron one-half to one and one-quarter inches thick
and about four or five feet long. The amount of glass
gathered depends on the article to be produced. A wine-
glass requires but little, and one immersion of the tube
in the tank is sufficient. The blower works on a low chair
with two long arms, slightly inclined, along which he rolls
his iron. This enables him to turn the object with one
hand and shape it with the other. When necessary he
works with shears to cut away portions of glass no longer
of any use, with "pucella," or small tongs, for widening
or reducing the open forms, and with the "battledore,"
or pallette, for leveling the bottom of glass receptacles.
In the assembling of a wineglass, three distinct pieces
are joined: the bowl, the leg and the foot. First, sufficient
glass to make a bowl is gathered on the iron and shaped
along the edge of the "marver," a small steel table, to
give it the initial form. Then the blower puffs the glass
out into a hollow bulb similar in size to the pattern from
which he is working. He then adds a piece of hot glass to
the bottom of the bulb and returns the iron to the furnace
so that the joints fuse 5 again he removes the iron and
blows out the leg, retaining a button at the end of the leg
for the glass which is to be the foot. Again he adds glass,
and with his tongs or a burned-wood paddle he forms the
foot of the container. The glass is still crude, however,
with sharp edges and imperfect contour. Another trip to
the furnace and reshaping with the tongs leaves the glass
TWO CENTURIES OF GLASSMAKING 315
ready for the annealing furnace or "lehr," where it is
heated and then slowly cooled.
Heavy glass objects are formed in a mold which con-
sists of two parts, one stationary, the other capable of
being lifted or dropped. The molten glass is placed in the
mold and blown into shape by the worker's breath or by
compressed air.
Most modern, average-priced articles, such as shallow
bowls and saucers, are pressed. The method consists of
placing the glass in the mold and releasing a plunger
which presses the glass to shape.
The making of window glass is a good index of the
general progress of the industry. In the early days, a
huge mass of molten glass was held on the pipe and after
great labor blown into a cylindrical bubble weighing up
to 40 pounds. Then it was cut along the side, opened, and
returned to the furance. When it had reached the required
temperature it was withdrawn, flattened, and cut to size.
The modern practice is to draw the glass out in sheets
through slots in floating planks. These large sheets are
sent through rollers and pressed. They are then ready
for cutting and cooling.
The plate glass method is different. In this instance the
glass is ladled out onto a long table, and there, after it
has settled to the proper thickness, it is rolled out by a
moving roller. Expert polishing with various abrasives
produces a sparkling surface.
Lenses require the most conscientious attention. They
are made from the purest silica and soda, and carefully
checked for deficiencies in strength and clarity. It requires
a great quantity of melted glass to produce an acceptable
lens or mirror surface.
The first successful machine to blow bottles was made
3 I 6 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
in America in 1906. The latest type has six, ten or sixteen
arms each a complete bottle-blowing machine, requiring
at least nine separate parts. A ten-arm machine will make
a complete revolution, producing ten bottles, in from 10
to 60 seconds, according to the size. The "Corning" bulb
machine makes bulbs for incandescent lamps at a rate of
400 to 600 a minute.
The manufacture of tubing and vials for use in chemi-
cal laboratories, formerly a hand process, has also become
a machine operation. An apparatus attached to the glass
tank pulls out mile after mile of tubing, uniform in diam-
eter and thickness of walls, and cuts it into commercial
lengths. Another machine turns the tubing into vials of
uniform construction and capacity. The production of
chemical glassware was enormously stimulated during the
World War when foreign importations were cut off.
Glass is colored by the use of chemicals. For a green-
ish tint a small quantity of marl is added to the batch.
More marl is added for a deeper shade of green. For
blue glass, oxide of cobalt is used; for purple, brown or
black glass various quantities of oxide of manganese are
added. Oxide of iron and manganese are used for amber
and claret hues. Ruby glass, the most expensive type
manufactured, is colored by the addition of gold to the
batch. Formerly a $20 gold piece was dissolved in acid
and added to a batch of 300 pounds of molten glass to
achieve the red in signal lights on railroads and high-
ways. The unminted gold is now used. A special type of
colored glass keeps out part of the heat of the sun's rays.
Research is being carried on continually to produce not
only different kinds of glass but better glass. The goal is
a product that will be transparent, permanent, hard, and
resistant to heat and electricity, all at the same time. A
TWO CENTURIES OF GLASSMAKING 317
glass that will withstand high temperatures and from
which cooking dishes are made, under the trade name of
Pyrex, is one of the fruits of this activity. It was found
that by adding borax to the batch such a glass could be
produced. The first product dissolved in water, however,
and it was only after seven years of experiment that satis-
factory heat-resistant glass dishes were made.
Also highly resistant to heat is quartz glass or fused
glass, but it is much too expensive to be used for kitchen-
ware. The proper quality of clear quartz crystals which
are used in the manufacture of quartz glass can be
obtained in quantity only from Brazil or Madagascar.
Because it transmits a third more ultraviolet rays than
ordinary glass, quartz glass has been an important factor
in broadening the use of these curative rays. Water, run
through a length of quartz pipe, can be purified by ultra-
violet rays which pass through the quartz. For the same
reason the material is particularly desirable for windows
of hospitals, schools and similar institutions. Quartz glass
is also used for telescope mirrors and ultraviolet-ray
lamps. i
One kind of shatterproof or "safety" glass is produced
by the process of case hardening. Quick cooling of the
outside of a sheet of glass compresses the inside and ren-
ders it five times stronger than ordinary glass. It breaks
into minute, harmless particles instead of dangerous
slivers. Such glass is well suited to the needs of airplanes,
automobiles and busses.
Glass bricks are also being manufactured for building
purposes. Ribs on the inside of the hollow blocks scatter
the light in all directions, thus preventing objects from
being seen through them and yet leaving them translu-
cent. A wall of glass brick one foot thick will insulate as
3l STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
well as a wall of concrete two feet thick. A windowless,
air-conditioned six-story department store of glass brick
was opened in Chicago in the fall of 1937.
Spun glass was produced in Venice during the Middle
Ages by dipping a rod into a pool of molten glass and
pulling it away rapidly. It is now produced by machines
and used to insulate buildings, refrigerators and hot-water
tanks. Four inches of spun glass between the walls of a
house provide as much insulation as would ten feet of
concrete. Research chemists of a large glass company,
while working on a totally different problem, recently
discovered that they could produce a fine quality of this
glass in quantity.
In 1937 these chemists demonstrated the production of
"Fiberglas," which can be spun into a colorful cloth that
is soft and warm. The process begins with the melting
of glass marbles in an electric furnace. The flux is forced
out through tiny holes in the bottom. The filaments thus
formed, finer than human hair, are united to form a single
thread one-fortieth of an inch thick. The thread is wound
on spools which can be used on ordinary textile machines.
One marble, about the size of those used by children,
produces 325 miles of thread, and a cubic foot of the fiber
weighs only a pound. This fiber is used as filter for acids,
but it has been spun into sample gloves and neckties.
Glass fibers will not stretch like wool or silk, and cloth
spun from them will therefore not allow freedom of
movement to the body. The chemists admit that it would
be irritating to the skin, but they are now working to over-
come these disadvantages, and people may eventually be
wearing glass clothes.
BLOWING QUARTZ GLASS
LEATHER MAKERS OF NEWARK
A map of Newark dated 1806 shows in one of its
corners the picture of a shoemaker at work at his bench.
Known ever since as the "shoemaker's map," it has been
reproduced in bronze by the Schoolmen's Club of Newark
and dedicated to the memory of Moses Combs, the enter-
prising tanner who began the State's first large scale pro-
duction of shoes shortly after the Revolution.
The shoemaker's map is symbolic of New Jersey's early
leadership in the preparation of leathers and the manu-
facture of shoes. Forests of oak and hemlock, natural
sources of tannic acid, first attracted tanners to New Jersey
in Colonial days. When Newark became a city in 1836,
almost the whole of its working population was employed
in some branch of the leather industry, and leather con-
tinued to dominate Newark for the next 50 years.
Although the loss of its great forests has forced leather
makers to seek tanning materials in other states and
abroad, leather tanning remains an important New Jersey
enterprise.
Though Newark has been vitally interested in leather
working for so many years, its "leather age" is almost
nothing compared to the many centuries that have elapsed
since a prehistoric man first used an animal skin for pro-
tection perhaps for a foot wound. And this became the
first shoe.
In a very few days, however, this man of ancient times
must have discovered that all animal matter decomposes.
320
LEATHER MAKERS OF NEWARK 321
The piece of rawhide that seemed like such a good idea
must have become something of a problem. How was he
to prevent this hide from decaying?
This was the first problem facing the early leather
makers. But just as important was finding a method of
keeping the hide flexible. The process that solves this dual
problem is called tanning. Though no date can be estab-
lished for the invention of tanning, leather articles have
been unearthed in Egyptian tombs that have lain undis-
turbed for 33 centuries. It is known, however, that people
in various parts of the world developed the art inde-
pendently. Centuries ago, the Arabians used a tanning
process that enabled them to produce the beautifully
tooled saddles for which they became famous.
The American Indians developed their own crude
method. After skins were washed and scraped clean of
all fat and tissue and sometimes buried until decomposi-
tion loosened the hair, they were tanned by sprinkling
them with pulverized rotten wood a forerunner of the
oak bark method used in some plants even today.
The early settlers in America learned from the Indians
many new uses for leather. Leather moccasins, coats,
breeches, boots, canoes and shelters earned for the fron-
tiersmen the title "Leatherstockings."
The progress of leather making in the Colonies, how-
ever, depended on European advances which were brought
here by English tanners. The first of these was Experi-
ence Miller, who arrived at Plymouth on the ship Ann
in 1623. He was followed, in 1628, by Thomas Beard
and Isaac Rickman, sent over by the Plymouth Company
to set up their trade in exchange for "their dyett and
house room at the charge of the companie."
Continued English colonization increased the demand
322 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
for leather. The frontier was pushed steadily westward,
and the development of travel and communication re-
quired an increasing supply of saddles, harnesses, saddle-
bags and heavy leather straps for the support of coaches.
Extensive tanning operations to meet this demand began
in Elizabeth and Newark.
As early as 1664 a tannery was established in Elizabeth
by the family of John Ogden of Long Island, and suc-
ceeding generations of the same family carried on the
work in primitive fashion. In 1680 Samuel Whitehead of
Elizabeth came to Newark at the invitation of the town
fathers to "come and inhabit among us, provided he will
supply the Town with Shoes, though for the present we
know not of any Place of Land Convenient." The first
tannery was established in 1698 by Azariah Crane.
The widely scattered farms were served by traveling
shoemakers, who stayed at a farmhouse for weeks while
making shoes for the entire household and dispensing the
gossip of the towns and other farms. The leather soles
were cut to a rather loose pattern drawn to individual
measure and then joined to the uppers, sometimes with
brass or wooden nails, but more often by stitching. When
all had been well shod, the shoemaker moved on.
As the forests gave way to cleared fields, and towns
continued to grow, tanners set up shop in every village or
market center where farmers brought their produce. In
return for their service to the farmers, they received one-
half of the hides. The tannery and vats were usually estab-
lished on a hillside close to a waterfall which turned the
slowly moving wooden cogwheel that crushed the tanning
bark on an oaken floor.
About 1724 a tanyard was established in Acquakanonk,
now Passaic, by Stephen Bassett, a New York tanner
LEATHER MAKERS OF NEWARK 323
attracted by the low prices of skins supplied by the Indians
and the abundance of tanning materials, bark, lime and
salt. He closed his Manhattan tannery and became the
first leather manufacturer in old Bergen County. For
nearly 50 years, until his death, his business flourished.
Slowly, as stagecoach transportation developed, the
larger towns became the centers of shoe, harness and sad-
dle manufacturing. Before the Revolution had ended two
Newark tradesmen were advertising for journeymen shoe-
makers, and in the 1 790*8 Moses Combs opened the first
large shoemaking shop in the State. With prices as low as
50^ a pair, Combs successfully invaded the New York
market. His shoes gained a reputation in other states, and
the value of his shipments increased until he was com-
pleting orders worth as much as $9,000.
Apprentices came to him from the Dutch families of
Essex County, and Dutch took equal rank with English
as the language of the shops. Each apprentice was expected
to produce an average of seven pairs of shoes a week. The
employer was required to supply a home and a certain
amount of^schooling for the young workers. Combs used
to call his boys together after work for moral and religious
instruction, and for years he hired a teacher at his own
expense to conduct night classes which were open to the
neighborhood. This was probably the first free night
school in America.
Like the other leather makers, Combs used ground oak
bark, almost the only vegetable tanning agent known until
the beginning of the I9th century. Then Sir Humphrey
Davy, the English scientist, discovered that tannic acid
could be obtained from hemlock, sumac, chestnut and
mimosa. New Jersey had vast resources of all these in
her forests.
FLESHING A HIDE
Research and mechanical invention went hand in hand.
In 1809 tne perfection of a hide-splitting machine began
a long series of "machine age" improvements that brought
mass production to the leather industry. The splitting ma-
chine, invented by Samuel Parker of Newburyport, Massa-
chusetts, did away with the wasteful process of "planing"
leather to a desired thickness as a carpenter shaves down
LEATHER MAKERS OF NEWARK 325
lumber. The planing process was wasteful because the
leather shavings were useless. With a splitting machine
a skin could be divided into several thin sheets of leather
with very little waste. The resulting economy was meas-
ured in millions of feet of leather.
Seth Boyden, who at his home in Foxborough, Massa-
chusetts, had also developed a machine for splitting the
heavy cowhides, was operating a harness shop on Newark's
Broad Street in 1818. One day he was attracted by the
enameled leather peak of a German officer's cap. It flashed
across his mind that here was a valuable harness ornament.
His analysis of the coatings and varnish led him to the
invention of patent leather. The glossy finished European
products were brittle and of little commercial value, but
Boyden's process of sun drying and baking the varnish
coatings made possible the manufacture of flexible patent
leather.
Although Boyden's inventive interests turned to other
fields, Newark forged ahead to become one of the leather
centers of the United States. By 1860 the city had 30 tan-
neries, which employed more than 1,000 workers. A
decade later leather was again ranked as the city's leading
industry. After about 1875 tanneries began to consolidate
and their number decreased, although their output for
1880 doubled that of 1870. As late as 1890 leather was
referred to as "Newark's chief industry."
At this time the conversion of hides into finished
leathers by curing and tanning still required months of
patient labor. Improved methods have speeded up the
tanning, but the preparatory process remains much as it
was when leather activity was at its height in Newark.
To restore the porous fresh hides to their original flexi-
bility they are immersed in rectangular soaking vats.
326 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
Proper soaking requires from one to seven days, depend-
ing upon the condition and thickness of the hides. When
they are adequately softened, they are transferred to a
lime solution to loosen the outer skin on which the hair
grows. After three to nine days the hides are ready for
the "rehairing" machine. Surplus flesh is then removed
either by hand or with the aid of a "fleshing" machine.
The lime is then removed, and the hide is ready for
tanning.
The older and slower method of vegetable tanning is
still used to produce heavy leathers for shoe soles, belt-
ing, harness, upholstery and luggage. In this process the
hides, suspended on rocker frames, are first immersed in
vats of a weak tanning solution for two or three weeks
and moved up and down in the solution to insure even
absorption. Next the hides are placed in layers, sprinkled
with ground bark and submerged in a stronger tanning
solution. During this treatment, which may last from two
to six months, the solution is changed from four to seven
times. When completely tanned, the hides are placed in
a vat filled with hot water to dissolve any excess tanning
liquor, and then in a scrubbing machine to remove any
remaining sediment or bark.
With a view to shortening the process, a New York
chemist, August Schultz, developed and patented the for-
mula for a tanning solution of chrome salts. The leather
thus treated was stiff and blue and unfit for use. In 1890,
however, a young Philadelphia tanner, Robert Foerderer,
by treating the chrome-tanned leather with an emulsion
of soap and oil, produced a product that was pliable and
could be dyed any color. Foerderer gave Schultz $60,000
for his patent rights and called his new product "vici kid"
"vici" from the Latin, meaning "I have conquered."
LEATHER MAKERS OF NEWARK 327
Chrome tanning has made possible the production of
fine leathers in a great variety of colors, multiplied the
uses of leather and cut the tanning process to a matter of
hours. Cured skins that are to be chrome tanned are placed
in a drum containing the chrome chemicals, where they
are tumbled about for five or six hours. When the skins
emerge they have become leather. To give life and flex-
ibility to the leather, natural oils and greases that have
been dried out in the curing and tanning must be restored.
Again the leather is placed in huge revolving drums
where it is tumbled about in an emulsion of soap and oils
known as fat liquors. Then dye solutions, if the leather
is to be colored, are introduced.
Dried in darkened lofts, the leather is stretched and
smoothed and made ready for the final operation, known
as finishing, or glazing. For dull finishes a revolving brush
is used, while high lustre is produced by friction with a
glass cylinder.
Patent leather is put through a special grease-removing
process and stretched on frames where paints and colors
are applied by hand in several coats, each time being baked
and rubbed down with pumice. Sun baking, for which no
substitute has been found, gives it a hard, bright finish.
New Jersey is outstanding for the variety of its leather
products. Newark has the only sharkskin tannery in the
United States, two of the largest reptile tanneries and one
of the three kangaroo tanneries. Sharkskin is tanned like
other leathers except that the outer scaly skin, harder than
steel, is first removed by special treatment. Of the more
than 100 varieties of shark, only about 10 are used com-
mercially. Many varieties of reptiles are used: alligators
and iguanas from the United States, Mexico and Central
America; boa constrictors, anacondas, lizards and chame-
328 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
Icons from South America; Java ring lizards and Karung
water snakes from the Dutch East Indies j pythons from
India and Indo-China.
Besides these, the hides of calf, sheep, goat, pig, deer,
ostrich, kangaroo, seal, walrus, horse and buffalo are in
constant demand by leather buyers and constitute a vast
international trade.
Goatskin, which has furnished leather since ancient
times, is now used mainly for fine shoes, gloves and high
grade bookbinding. Camden has one plant where 30,000
goatskins are tanned daily to produce ladies' shoe uppers,
handbags and other articles.
A Newark firm which has been in continuous operation
since the Civil War supplied virtually all the leather used
in the lounges, halls and Rainbow Room of Radio City.
This leather was the first of its kind to pass the under-
writers' test for fireproofing of finished leather. Newark,
at one time considered the center for the production of
leather, still has a dozen or more tanning plants which
supply leathers for shoes, furniture and luggage.
THE GOLD BEATERS
The art of hammering gold by hand into thin leaves
for use in ornamentation is one of the rarest and most
ancient of industries. The gilding found on old relics,
books and art objects was prepared for the artist in the
Middle Ages in much the same manner as it is for the
picture frames, signs and furniture of today. In the whole
country not more than a thousand people are engaged in
this highly specialized work, and these are found in only
13 of the states.
In Red Bank, New Jersey, there is a colony of these
gold workers distributed in three shops that owe their
existence to William Haddon, a gold leaf manufacturer
of New York who, after his retirement, practiced his craft
in a small shop in his home at Red Bank. He taught the
craft to others, who have carried on the business for more
than 60 years.
The manufacture of gold leaf begins with the purchase
of pure (24-carat) gold from the United States Govern-
ment. One ounce of gold will produce 2,500 sheets, 3^
inches square, hammered to a thinness of 1/200,000 of an
inch. A book of gold leaf which sells for about 75^ con-
tains 25 sheets packed between protecting layers of paper.
It is difficult to conceive of anything as thin as these
gold wafers being visible to the naked eye. One way of
estimating their thinness is to realize that it would take
about 400 sheets laid on top of each other to equal the
thickness of this single sheet of paper.
329
33 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
The process by which mined gold is reduced to such
extraordinary thinness is one requiring time, patience and
unusual skill. First, the gold is colored to any one of the
10 acceptable shades by the addition of alloys, such as cop-
per and silver. In the deeper, or reddish shades, there is
a preponderance of copper j while a larger proportion of
silver produces the paler shades. As alloys are added the
metal becomes less malleable, therefore it is not adulter-
ated below a 23-carat grade. The gold, with the added
alloy, is then melted in a clay crucible which may not be
used a second time for fear of breaking. Once is too often
to spill a pot of gold in the ashes. The molten metal is
poured into a mold one inch wide and several inches
long, and it forms a bar about Y^ of an inch thick.
This bar is then pressed between steel rollers again and
again to extend its length. During this ironing process the
operator guides the bar so that the width does not in-
crease. When the gold bar has attained a length of about
IO yards and a thickness of 1/800 of an inch it is cut into
squares, and each one is placed between sheets of vellum,
made from calf or lamb gut, imported from France.
These vellum sheets are three inches square. The inch
squares of gold are bound closely in the larger vellum
squares by parchment bands. This pile, called the "cutch,"
is now ready for the first beating.
The "cutch" is placed on a padded granite block 18
inches square which is supported by a wooden block em-
bedded in ashes, to assure the necessary resilience as the
1 8-pound hammer descends. It requires more skill than
strength to guide the strokes of the hammer so that the
little squares in the packet will be evenly beaten.
When the gold has reached the edge of the 3-inch vel-
lum wrapper, the squares are removed with long wooden
THE GOLD BEATERS 331
pincers and are folded and cut in quarters by a steel knife.
Six or seven hundred of these are placed between pieces
of goldbeater's skin, four inches square, bound and packed
as for the first beating. This packet is called the "shoder."
Goldbeater's skin is prepared by a secret process from
the intestines of cattle. In all the world there are only a
few companies, and these are in England and Germany,
that undertake its intricate preparation. So carefully is the
secret guarded that it is said that once, when an employee
of a certain firm seemed to have learned too much of the
process, it was arranged that he marry the daughter of
his employer to insure his loyalty. The intestines of 500
cattle are required to make a single packet containing
about 850 leaves. Alum, isinglass and white of egg are
used in the toughening treatment, and the process is long,
complicated and somewhat revolting.
A "mold" of i,OOO skins sells for about $10 and lasts
not more than two to three years under the punishment it
receives from the hammer on the granite block.
Now the gold leaves lying between the 4-inch squares
of goldbeater's skin are beaten once more, this time by
a 9- to 12-pound hammer, until the leaves again spread to
the edges. The leaves are removed again with the wooden
pincers and placed on a leather cushion. They are now so
thin that it takes only a breath from the worker to flatten
them out, and a specially designed tool, called a "wagon,"
must be used to trim them. It has two adjustable blades
of sharpened reed and looks like a small sled.
The 4-inch squares are again packed in a "mold" of
goldbeater's skins about 5 inches square and beaten with
hammers 7 to 10 pounds in weight for about 4 hours
until they reach the edge of the skins. Then each square,
now reduced to almost impalpable fineness, is trimmed
33 2 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
down with a "wagon" to exactly 3^ inches and packed
between protecting sheets, ready for sale.
To the 2Oth century mind this may seem like a slow
and antiquated process, but the cost of inventing and build-
ing machinery to handle such delicate operations has until
recently been considered too great for the volume of busi-
ness. There are a few firms throughout the country manu-
facturing gold leaf by machinery, but, generally speaking,
the hand-made product is preferred by the trade. A ma-
chine has no eyes to detect flaws, while in the hands of
a careful workman every leaf is scrutinized and a more
uniform product results.
THE ROMANCE OF THE ROEBLINGS
Bridges, cables and Roebling are as closely bound
together as the wires in the cables that suspend such great
bridges as the George Washington Bridge and the Golden
Gate Bridge. For it was John A. Roebling who, in a small
factory in Trenton, New Jersey, wove the first wire rope
and developed an industry that has changed the history
of transportation.
Roebling was not the first man to conceive or build sus-
pension bridges. They were used in remote times in China,
Japan, India and Tibet. The Aztecs of Mexico and the
natives of Peru used this device for crossing chasms or
swirling river currents. They used twisted vines or straps
of hide fastened securely to strong trees or boulders to
support the hanging foot bridges. The method is still em-
ployed in remote parts of the world 5 but these bridges are
comparatively .short and are not intended to carry great
weight.
The first bridge hung on wire cables was over the
Schuylkill River at Fairmount, Philadelphia, built in 1 8 1 6
by Joseph White and Erskine Hazard, who owned a wire
mill. The span was 408 feet long and provided a passage-
way of only 1 8 inches. With the first accumulation of ice
and snow, the structure collapsed. In 1842 another hang-
ing bridge over the Schuylkill was more successful. It
remained in operation until 1872. But these bridges were
mere toys in comparison to Roebling's projects. By spin-
333
INTERIOR OF ROEBLING WIRE MILL
ning wire into heavy cable he was the first one to suspend,
successfully, bridges of 1,000 feet or more in span.
Roebling, son of a tobacco manufacturer, was born in
1806 in Miihlhausen, Germany. His mother had great
ambition for this boy, her youngest son, and by many
sacrifices managed to have him educated at the Royal
University of Berlin. Roebling distinguished himself in
engineering, architecture, bridge construction, hydraulics
and philosophy. Shortly after his graduation he decided
to join 60 or 70 others in migrating to the new land of
promise the United States.
On arriving here in August 1831, the group decided
on farming for their future. Some turned to the South-
land with its great plantations. Roebling, with others,
because of their strong opinions against slavery, decided on
the North and purchased 700 acres on the slope of the
Allegheny ridge, about 25 miles from the then new town
of Pittsburgh. There they founded the village of Ger-
mania, now called Saxonburg.
THE ROMANCE OF THE ROEBLINGS 335
Those were the days when new transportation methods
were being developed to carry goods to the ever-widening
frontier. Railroads were in their infancy, but lumbering
canal boats loaded with coal and merchandise were hauled
along artificial waterways by mules and horses. This cap-
tured the interest of the engineer in Roebling, who had
discovered that he had little talent for farming. In 1837
he got a job as assistant State engineer, and soon he was
building dams and locks on the canals. The problem of
sending the freight boats over mountains interested him
immediately. At the base of a mountain these boats were
floated into cradles that were hauled up by ropes to the
next water stretch. Occasionally the rope, however stout,
would break, and cradle, boat, cargo and passengers would
go crashing down the mountain.
Roebling remembered having read that a German had
twisted strands of wire into rope and decided to develop
the idea. He purchased a quantity of steel wire, went back
to his farm in Saxonburg and taught his friends and neigh-
bors how to weave it into rope. His methods were crude
but the result was startling j the wire rope held under
great loads, and it was flexible enough to pass over the
windlass. Soon this strong, tensile wire rope was replacing
hemp rope for hauling towboat cradles and for towlines.
Canals sometimes had to cross natural rivers over which
wooden aqueducts had to be built. These were costly and
unsafe, for frequently their supporting piles and abut-
ments would be crushed and destroyed by ice in the river.
Roebling conceived the idea of a cross-river aqueduct sus-
pended from wire cables anchored to the land. This, he
argued, would be much safer because it would eliminate
piers and posts in the river.
Learning that a new canal was to be built across the
33^ STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
Allegheny River at Pittsburgh, he laid his plans and cal-
culations before the engineers. He frankly admitted that
what he was proposing had never been done bofere, and
he was staking his reputation on its success. He finally per-
suaded them that the advantage to be gained justified the
risk. The project proved so successful that Roebling re-
ceived many commissions for similar cross-river aqueducts,
several of which are still in use.
It was but a step from a suspension aqueduct to a sus-
pension bridge, but Roebling realized that he would need
larger shops, machinery and possibly mills to develop the
ideas that were taking shape in his mind. His friend Peter
Cooper had iron foundries in Trenton and urged him to
settle there. In 1848 he took about 20 trained men with
him to Trenton, where he designed and built his own
machinery to weave wire rope and cables.
Roebting's Early Bridges
From this plant came the massive cables that made the
bridge over Niagara Falls possible. And where could a
more dangerous and dazzling undertaking have been
found than spanning these hurling waters with a combi-
nation railroad and highway suspension bridge? But to
Roebling it was just another engineering problem. Many
engineers laughed at the idea of carrying a railroad train
over that turmoil of water, on a web apparently so frail.
Failure was freely predicted.
Roebling flew a kite across the gorge to get his first
wire over and from that single wire built up his cables.
The bridge was opened to the public in 1854. On March
1 6, 1855, the first railroad train in history crossed a sus-
pension bridge, and to the amazement of the public the
bridge did not collapse.
THE ROMANCE OF THE ROEBLINGS 337
This accomplishment demonstrated the soundness of
Roebling's claims for giant wire structures and estab-
lished him as one of the outstanding engineers of the age.
Other contracts quickly followed. He built the Allegheny
Bridge over the Monongahela River at Pittsburgh in
1856 and the Cincinnati-Co vington Bridge over the Ohio
in 1867.
In the meantime there was considerable agitation for
a bridge over the East River connecting the cities of
Brooklyn and New York. The idea still seemed to many
like a wild dream, and most Brooklynites preferred the
safety of their chugging ferries. Roebling, in the late fif-
ties, had written to Abram S. Hewitt, distinguished engi-
neer, later to become mayor of New York, suggesting a
hanging bridge that would not interfere with navigation.
But nothing had been done.
The winter of 1866-67 was the coldest, bitterest and
longest New York had ever known. Huge drifts of ice
surged and crackled around the keels of the ferries and
tied up river traffic. Passengers from Albany, coming by
train, reached New York before the Brooklynites could
cross the river. Manhattan and Brooklyn looked across at
each other and remembered Roebling and his dream of
a bridge hanging on steel wire. The demand for the
bridge rose to a clamor.
In May 1867 a charter was granted, and John Roebling
was appointed chief engineer. But he was not to see the
completion, or even the start of what he considered would
be his crowning achievement. On June 28, 1869, Mr.
Roebling was standing on a cluster of piles at the Fulton
ferry slip, Brooklyn, fixing the site of the proposed tower.
He failed to see a ferryboat before it crashed into the
piling. One of his feet was crushed, necessitating the am-
33^ STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
putation of some of his toes. Tetanus set in and on July
22, as he neared his 63rd birthday, he died.
Colonel Washington Augustus Roebling, his son and
associate, was appointed to succeed him. It was January
1870 before actual construction was started. A scow with
a coil of 24-inch wire rope was moored alongside the
Brooklyn tower and the end of the coil hoisted to the top,
passed down on the land side, then carried back. The scow
was then towed to the New York side and the rope carried
over that tower and wound on a huge drum till it hung
above the river. A second wire rope was run in the same
manner and the two were joined around huge driving
wheels or pulleys at each end. An endless wire rope trav-
eler, revolving by steam power, now stretched from city
to city.
One day in August 1870 the hanging of the cable was
started by a man on this slender aerial. In a "bosun's
chair," he started in the traveler from the top of the
Brooklyn tower down the long sag and up to the top of
the New York tower while a million people gazed in
wonder, bands played, and boat whistles shrieked.
The Brooklyn Bridge project introduced several inno-
vations in construction. The foundations of the great
towers were built by the caisson method. While the men
working in the caisson dug out the earth underneath,
others in the open air on top of the caisson laid the ma-
sonry of the towers. On the Brooklyn side the caisson was
sunk about 50 feet. On the New York side it was neces-
sary to go down about 90 feet to bedrock. More than a
hundred men were affected, many fatally, by the dreaded
caisson disease, or bends, during construction.
Washington Roebling spent much of his time in the
caisson chambers. One day he was carried out unconscious
THE ROMANCE OF THE ROEBLINGS 339
from the effects of the bends. His speech was gone. After
that he had to write his instructions to his assistants. By
the end of 1872 he was an invalid and unable to visit the
bridge. From that time until it was finished, except for
six months abroad in an effort to regain his health, he
directed the work from his home in Brooklyn.
With the aid of a telescope he could see the men at
work and the dream taking shape a symphony in steel,
stone and concrete the longest suspension bridge in the
world. And then one day in 1883, with the sun shining,
the waters of the river churned up by craft of all kinds,
a group of dignitaries gathered in the middle of the
bridge and the President of the United States, Chester A.
Arthur, made the dedication address.
Washington Roebling sat in his window, the telescope
held close to his eyes, watching the ceremonies. When the
breeze shifted he could hear the excited tooting of the
river craft and the blaring of the bands. At last! Brooklyn
Bridge was a reality. Colonel Roebling remained partially
paralyzed till he died in 1926 at the age of 84.
About 1900 Colonel Roebling and his brothers, Ferdi-
nand and Charles, decided to withdraw from the com-
petitive field of engineering contracts and concentrate all
the energies of the firm on the perfection of its products.
While the name of Roebling is generally associated in
the public mind with huge wire cables and wire rope, and
it still continues to make these, the company also makes
a wide variety of wire, covering almost every commercial
and technical field, from the 4j^-inch steel wire rope,
down to the infinitesimal wire in the eyepiece of the tele-
scope.
Wire can now be drawn so fine that it would take many
strands to equal the thickness of a human hair. Perhaps
34 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
the most amazing of the products of the industry are the
cables of copper wire used in telephone service. For these
the individual wires are covered with paper of various
colors, which acts not only as a protection but enables men
at the opposite ends of a long cable to identify the wires
with which the connection is to be made. Steel wires about
the size of the common lead pencil seem like a fragile sub-
stance from which to suspend great bridges. Yet these
wires, when woven into cable, can support many times
their own dead weight.
Modern Bridges
The ever-present question which is the largest bridge
may be answered in several ways. If one judges by length
of span, the distance between the towers, the new Golden
Gate Bridge at San Francisco, with its main span of 4,200
feet and its total cable length of 7,640 feet from anchor-
age to anchorage, is the largest in the world. Measured in
cable strength, the George Washington Bridge is the larg-
est, even though the span is only 3,500 feet and the cable
length from anchorage to anchorage is 4,200 feet. But its
cable strength is 350,000 tons as compared to the 193,304
tons for the San Francisco Bridge. The George Washing-
ton Bridge is not yet complete. Its massive cables are
designed to support a second roadway when required by
increasing traffic.
Because of their great size, bridge cables are spun on
the site. Every reach of the wire is laid flat and separate,
and when all are in place they are bound together in
strands. There are 61 strands in each of the four cables
that support the George Washington Bridge. After being
adjusted to a sag that would distribute the load, the
strands were bound together into solid cylinders, each con-
BBBBBi
GEORGE WASHINGTON BRIDGE
342 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
taining 26,474 wires. In addition to the cables there are
35 miles of suspender rope, representing about 10,000
miles of wire. Altogether the wires used in the George
Washington Bridge would reach nearly five times around
the world. Wire rope and parallel wire cables should not
be confused. There is no twist in the cables that sustain
bridges as there is in a wire rope.
The Roebling headquarters are in Trenton, where there
are two great plants. The main one covers over 35 acres.
The second lies a half mile farther south. At the turn of
the century, when the company could crowd no more
buildings on its Trenton acreage, it established about ten
miles below Trenton the town of Roebling, where it owns
over 200 acres. All together, there are more than a hun-
dred buildings in the three plants, many of these of im-
mense size and manufacturing capacity, all devoted to
making one of the great necessities of this age wire.
THE STORY OF LENOX POTTERY
Americans, who accept as a matter of course the out-
standing achievements of their scientists and engineers, are
sometimes surprised to learn that in the field of art, as
well, they have achieved international importance.
Included in the permanent exhibition in the Ceramic
Museum at Sevres, France, among the rare and beautiful
wares of Europe and Asia, are several examples of Lenox
china. They are products of a factory in Trenton, New
Jersey, and the result of long and patient effort on the
part of a man who devoted his life to the accomplishment
of an ideal, despite the handicaps of poverty and discour-
agement and the added burdens of blindness and paralysis.
Walter Lenox, as a schoolboy in Trenton, where he
was born in 1859, use d to stand for hours before a little
pottery which he passed daily, fascinated by the transfor-
mation of the dull lumps of clay into beautiful shapes and
forms as the rapidly spinning potter's wheel turned in the
hands of the artisan. Young Lenox resolved that he would
master this craft, one of the most ancient of mankind, and
produce finer ware than any he had seen.
As an apprentice he learned how to make pottery. In
his leisure hours he studied and experimented with design
and color. Finally he became art director of the Ott and
Brewer factory at Trenton and while there learned from
Irish artisans, imported for the purpose, some of the proc-
esses of manufacturing Belleek a particularly fine ware.
But to accomplish his purpose it was necessary for Lenox
343
344 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
to have his own plant. He was able to raise the money,
but his backers were skeptical. They stipulated that the
building should be designed as a tenement should the
pottery fail.
The manufacture of cheap ware in large quantities
would assure quick and large profits, while delicate and
finely wrought ware would have a limited market. But
Walter Lenox had one aim quality. He was convinced
that if he could produce something truly fine and beautiful
the public would ultimately recognize it.
At this time unscrupulous china manufacturers in the
United States were in the habit of marking their ware with
English stamps in order to sell their goods. No one would
believe that really fine china could be produced in Amer-
ica. Lenox was too proud and honorable to employ such
unworthy methods, and he resolved to stand or fall on
the merits of his products.
Failure followed failure before he produced the lovely,
creamy, richly glazed china that proudly displays the
Lenox stamp. In 1895, just as Walter Lenox was about
to achieve his dream, he was stricken with paralysis and
blindness. Burdened as he was with debt and physical
handicaps, it looked as if his factory would have to be
converted into a tenement. But the artist was not ready
to surrender. He knew that his china was beautiful and
that in time the public would learn to appreciate and buy
it. Harry A. Brown, the secretary of the company, shared
this faith. He became the eyes and legs of the stricken
man. Together they worked to solve the monetary difficul-
ties of the little industry.
The potter called his devoted friend "Dominie," some
one to lean upon, some one to trust. Every day Lenox was
taken to the pottery, and though he could not see, his
THE STORY OF LENOX POTTERY 345
sensitive fingers could trace the graceful forms and feel
the glaze and texture of the china as it came from the kiln.
"Dominie" took entire charge of the business and of the
firm, and one memorable day he was able to announce
that every note had been paid. A miniature kiln was built
in the office j the canceled notes were placed in it and
burned while Lenox stood by, tears streaming from his
blinded eyes. Lenox addressed "his boys," as he called the
workmen, and urged them never to abandon the ideal of
creating beautiful china. Quality first the money would
come after.
The blind potter died in 1920, but his dream lives on
in the modern plant built on the site of the first small fac-
tory, and in the finely textured product which his devotion
and determination developed. Today the Lenox Pottery
occupies more than seven acres of ground. The plant, con-
structed largely of glass to afford the maximum of light,
has the best equipment for china making. The air is freed
of dust by the latest ventilating devices. Yet here and
there throughout the factory there are still reminders of
the ancient potter's primitive methods.
Visitors from all over the world come to watch the
evolution of dull clay and minerals into exquisite fragile
china. It is a process requiring extreme precision and
refinement.
The raw materials, clay, feldspar and flint, are selected
by specialists. They are weighed and tested at every stage
from mine to mixing room so that there will be no vari-
ance in the proportions. Even the water with which they
are mixed is filtered and measured to the last ounce.
Several different kinds of clay are used in Lenox pot-
tery. Feldspar is a crystallike rock formation which when
crushed becomes a glistening white powder. New Eng-
FIRST PIECE OF
BELLEEK MADE
IN AMERICA
land feldspar is used exclusively in Lenox pottery. When
the clay and rock powder have been properly mixed, they
are placed in a huge revolving cylinder containing water
and flint pebbles. This process is called pebble grinding.
After 50 hours the mixture, now of a thick, creamlike
consistency, is forced through a fine wire screen by air
pressure. This process, which lasts for two hours, elimi-
nates all the large particles and results in a fine-textured
fluid called "slip." Electromagnets remove all iron atoms
from the "slip," and it is then allowed to age. No one
knows just why aging makes the clay easier to handle, but
from ancient times all potters have found it helpful to let
the "slip" stand for several days.
The clay is now ready to be shaped. This is the point
at which in the old days it would have been placed on the
potter's wheel and molded by the craftsman's sensitive
fingers as the wheel spun. The modern equivalent of the
potter's wheel is called the jiggering machine. It is turned
by an electric motor, controlled by an operator whose
trained fingers guide the moist clay into a plaster mold.
He knows to the minute when the clay is in workable
condition. The work is so fine that an expert craftsman
can produce only a few pieces each day.
Not all pieces are formed on the jiggering machine.
Some intricate shapes are cast in plaster molds. When the
shapes are complete they are put aside to dry. They are
34$ STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
then carefully gone over with a camel's hair brush to
make sure the surface is absolutely smooth.
When dry and ready for firing, the pieces are gently
packed in coarse clay containers (called saggers) and car-
ried to the kiln, which is 14 feet wide and more than 14
feet high. From time immemorial it has been the custom
for workmen to carry saggers on their heads. This ancient
method still prevails in the Lenox pottery.
One may catch his breath as he watches a workman
climb the ladder with a load of saggers balanced on top
of his head. But the artisans say that never has a single
piece been lost by falling. When the great oven has been
filled completely, the doors are sealed and the fires started.
For 30 hours the delicate china is baked. The heat is in-
creased gradually and carefully until it reaches 2,200
degrees Fahrenheit. Considering that it takes only 350
degrees to bake an ordinary cake, this gives an idea of
the terrific heat used for these delicate vessels. In fact,
the heat is so intense that if it were not for the steel bands
with which the kilns are bound they would burst.
When the pieces are removed from the kiln they are
carefully examined for any imperfection or warping.
Imperfect specimens are immediately destroyed. Those
that pass inspection are subjected to a fine sand blast to
remove any clinging particles, bubbles or ridges.
The china next passes into the hands of the glaze dip-
per, who with remarkable dexterity immerses each piece
in a glazing solution. It is then fired a second time, to
fuse the glaze. If the glaze has been applied unevenly the
whole piece will crack under the heat, which, for this
operation, must reach a temperature of 2,100 degrees.
The piece is now ready for decorating with gold and
colors. This work calls for unusual talent, and is one of
THE STORY OF LENOX POTTERY 349
the reasons for the high cost of production at the Lenox
plant. Of the 325 employees, 39 are skilled craftsmen,
with salaries as high as $90 a week.
Thousands of dollars' worth of 24-carat gold is used
annually for embellishing the ware. No adulterated, so-
called commercial gold is tolerated. In order to conserve
every ounce of gold, all wiping cloths and utensils are
burned to recover any clinging particles.
Color work is done in several ways. On some pieces the
artist does the painting freehand, and on others he follows
an outline design. Sometimes an elaborate design involv-
ing 14 or 15 colors is transferred and then supplemented
by hand work.
At each stage of ornamentation the pieces must be fired
in the decorating kiln. Color firing and gold firing require
different degrees of heat, so that one piece may have to go
into the decorating kiln several times before it is ready
for final inspection. At every point experts pass upon each
piece, and sooner or later the tiniest flaw is discovered.
When a piece falls below standard it is immediately
destroyed.
The insistence of Walter Lenox upon attaining nothing
less than. perfection and the devotion of his helpers have
been amply justified. Today the lustrous Lenox china is
in demand all over the world. There are 1,700 pieces in
the White House dinner service, and sets have been
ordered for the official banquet services of several other
countries.
FROM PHONOGRAPH TO TELEVISION
The 2Oth century family accepts the victrola and the
radio as part of the everyday equipment of the home, and
yet only 60 years ago intelligent, wide awake men and
women scoffed at the idea of permanently recording
and reproducing the human voice or any other sound.
In 1877 Edison applied for a patent for the phono-
graph, and 10 years later Charles Summer Tainter and
Alexander Graham Bell invented a new recording method
and announced another sound-reproducing machine, which
they christened the graphophone. These first machines
were grotesque-looking contrivances. The records were
cylindrical, and the sound was amplified through a large
megaphone which, following the overornamental style of
the period, took on fearful and wonderful shapes. The
sounds were rasping and distorted, but listeners were
grateful and enthusiastic.
The first great advance in the phonograph was made
by Emile Berliner, who had aided Bell in the develop-
ment of the telephone. Instead of a cylindrical record,
Berliner used a disc. His instrument, called a gramophone,
was marketed in 1896 through the Berliner Gramophone
Company. Competition between the manufacturers of the
two types of machine opened the field for new develop-
ments.
One day in 1895 Berliner brought his instrument to a
young machinist in a shop back of a carriage facory on
Front Street, in Camden, New Jersey. The machinist was.
FROM PHONOGRAPH TO TELEVISION 351
Eldridge R. Johnson, who had won a reputation as a
maker of working models for inventors.
Johnson studied and experimented and finally per-
fected and patented a silent spring motor which ran with
uniform speed and so did not distort the sound. This
motor was so much superior to Berliner's model that
Johnson received a contract to manufacture it for the
Gramophone Company.
Johnson then turned to the improvement of the record
itself. In 1898, by combining the flat disc with Bell and
Tainter's method of recording, he turned out a record of
exceptional merit which reproduced a popular song of the
day sung by himself, I Guess Pll Have to Telegraph My
Baby.
Then began a series of financial troubles. The Berliner
Gramophone Company was operating at a loss, and John-
son was left without financial backing. Johnson finally took
control of the company. He could continue production
only because the employees in his little shop had faith in
his invention and in him. Each week they turned back part
of their wages and accepted in exchange a small interest
in the business. The stock they bought made them rich.
Eventually Johnson triumphed over all business rivals,
and some say that this fact prompted the choice of the
name "Victor" for his machine and records. In 1901 he
registered this name in the United States Patent Office,
and later that year the Victor Talking Machine Company
was organized. Johnson kept a controlling interest in the
company, and the bulk of his stockholders were the faith-
ful employees in his first little machine shop.
In the autumn of 1901 the Victor talking machine won
its first gold medal over all competitors at the Pan-Ameri-
can Exposition at Buffalo, and within a year the company
352 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
advertised that it had 10,000 dealers. Its business during
this first year amounted to $2,000,000, and partly respon-
sible was the support of the general musical firm of
Lyon & Healy in Chicago.
A spurt of competitive production by the Columbia
Gramophone Company, still using the cylinder recording
principle of Edison and Tainter and Bell, caused the
Victor Company to devise new methods for increasing
sales. Johnson first gathered a roster of artists which in-
cluded the great actress Sarah Bernhardt, Adelina Patti,
Enrico Caruso and other great opera stars.
Then the company began research to improve phono-
graph construction, and out of the experiments came the
"victrola." The general use of this name, coined by the
company, testifies to the widespread popularity of the
product. Up to that time the phonograph's sound delivery
had been by means of tin or brass horns of all sizes and
shapes. Johnson turned the horn downward into the cabi-
net of the machine itself, and the phonograph, for the first
time, became an ornamental and attractive piece of house-
hold furniture. The handsomer models, priced at $200,
had a brisk sale, and the Victor company had the phono-
graph field virtually to itself. Soon Columbia adopted a
disc and cabinet machine, and seven years later Edison
himself discarded his original cylinder for the disc. Fol-
lowing Johnson's example, he installed the new machine
in a handsome cabinet.
Victor's purchase of a half interest in the Gramophone
Company of London in 1920 opened the world markets
of Europe, Asia, Africa and Australia, in addition to mar-
kets already controlled in North and South America. It
was worth the $9,000,000 it cost.
When in 1924 the interest of the public shifted to radio,
Courtesy R. C. A.
"PUTTING IT ON THE WAX" AT OLD RECORDING STUDIO,
CAM DEN
Nipper, the little fox terrier -with his ear cocked for "His
Master's Voice," the trade mark adopted by the Victor
Company, seemed to be facing a dark future. But a new
method of electric recording and reproduction developed
in the research laboratories of the great communication
companies brightened the outlook. In 1925 Victor began
the manufacture of another sound-reproducing innovation
which put the company on a full production schedule
the orthophonic victrola. Recordings could be made with
such high fidelity that the great musical artists here and
abroad flocked to the studios. Shortly afterward the com-
pany completed negotiations with the Radio Corporation
354 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
of America for rights to combine the orthophonic victrola
with the radio.
In 1929 RCA, which had been a subsidiary of the Gen-
eral Electric Company, separated from the mother corpo-
ration and planned to begin production of radios inde-
pendently. The Victor company was purchased, and the
plant in Camden was devoted mainly to the manufacture
of radios. Though the popularity of phonographs dwin-
dled, research in the reproduction of sound continued
along with experiments in the field of radio.
The efficiency of the radio advanced rapidly, and the
New Jersey company expanded until it was producing
radio devices for almost every conceivable use. In addi-
tion to the transmission of sound, radio waves are used
today in medicine, for industrial safeguards and in various
other fields. A machine in a factory may be surrounded
with waves so that if anyone approaches, the machine is
automatically shut off.
In Camden, the capital of radio and the phonograph,
more than 14,000 are employed in the 31 buildings dur-
ing peak times to turn out the radios, phonographs and
records that reach all parts of the world. From this same
plant have come many of the developments that make
talking pictures a successful reality. When the first sound
movies appeared, the sound was reproduced from large
phonograph records, but with this device there was a con-
stant danger of breakage, and the records could not be
cut and edited to synchronize with the films.
Finally a method was developed for converting sound
into electrical impulses which are then reconverted into
light waves. The light waves actuate a needle which
scratches the film beside the pictures of the action. Thus
a sound picture today is an actual photograph not only of
Courtesy R. C. A,
ASSEMBLING THE GRID OF AN ICONOSCOPE (TELEVISION
TUBE) IN THE R.C.A. RESEARCH LABORATORIES, CAMDEN
the actors but of their voices, which appear as zigzag lines.
Recently this technique was improved in the Camden
laboratories by the use of ultraviolet rays for the beam
instead of ordinary white light. Because it can be focused
STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
more sharply, the ultraviolet beam produces a truer,
clearer picture of the sound.
With this history of experimental success, it was only
natural that RCA engineers should conduct one of the
first successful demonstrations of television out of doors
in the full brilliance of the midday sun. A special fire
alarm was sounded, and, as the firemen rushed to the
scene, the eye of a television camera was poked from a
window to record the event, while a microphone picked
up the clang of the bells and the scream of the siren. A
mile away, across the city, a small group of spectators ob-
served a greenish-hued picture of the action on a television
apparatus, 5 by 7 inches. The ultimate home receiver may
show a pale yellow picture.
Two new devices developed by Dr. Vladimir K. Zwory-
kin, ace research man of the RCA laboratories, made this
demonstration possible. He calls one of them an "icono-
scope," which is the electric eye of the television camera.
The other is the "kinescope," the receiving mechanism
which projects the picture on the television screen.
Three major problems must be solved before television
can come into general use. The size of the image trans-
mitted is still too small for more than a limited gathering;
the cost is prohibitive, and the television broadcasting
radius is restricted to 30 miles. But research is yielding
results, and engineers are rapidly achieving the goal of
satisfactory reception regularly sustained.
DELAWARE BAY OYSTERS
The oyster was a favorite food of the Indians long
before the coming of the white man. Over the Burlington
Path and the Minnisink Trail, from the mountains to the
New Jersey coast, the Indians made annual pilgrimages
and held great oyster feasts. They, of course, knew noth-
ing of oyster cultivation, but simply raked the oysters
from the natural beds with pronged sticks. For the most
part they ate them raw; but they also dried quantities of
them for future use. Much of the wampum used for cur-
rency and decoration was made from the shells of oysters
and clams.
The Indians taught the white settlers to appreciate the
strange-looking bivalves, along with sweet corn, succotash,
turkey and cranberries. As the years have passed, the State
has improved the cultivation and marketing of this valu-
able article of diet, until the oyster industry has reached
great proportions, representing an investment of $18,500,-
OOO and a gross annual business of more than $3,500,000.
In New Jersey, which ranks fourth in the country's oyster
production, about 2,000 people are employed in the in-
dustry in a variety of jobs: boatmen, planters, sorters,
shuckers and packers.
New Jersey was a pioneer in scientific oyster propaga-
tion, just as it was in scientific agriculture. Under the di-
rection of Dr. Julius Nelson of the New Jersey State Agri-
cultural Experiment Station at Rutgers University, much
was learned about the habits and peculiarities of this
357
STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
humble creature. One phase of the investigation carried
on by the scientists was protection of the growing oyster
from contamination. Almost every oyster-producing State,
through the Federal and State Boards of Health and its
State Board of Fisheries, has established rules governing
the planting and dredging of oysters and the packing and
shipping of them to market. Oysters may be handled only
by workers who have passed a health examination, and
they may not be harvested from waters that have been
polluted.
In New Jersey, oysters used to be produced mainly
from Raritan Bay, the Shrewsbury River and Barnegat
Bay. The first two of these are now impractical for breed-
ing. Barnegat Bay is still a rich oyster field, but the indus-
try now centers around Delaware Bay near the outlet of
the Maurice River at Bivalve, at Port Norris and at sev-
eral other points in that vicinity. The Maurice River Cove
has over 31,000 acres of oyster beds, possibly the largest
single acreage in the world. Owned by the State, the beds
are under the control of the State Board of Shell Fisheries
and are leased to operators upon certain conditions. In
other words, a man may not actually own an oyster bed.
But he is given the privilege of gathering oysters year
after year from the same spot as long as he pays his lease
fee of 50 cents an acre.
The average plot of ground leased for oystering meas-
ures from 25 to 30 acres. An operator may obtain several
leases if grounds are available. He recognizes his own acre-
age by stakes planted at the corner boundaries. These may
be marked by a feed bag, a tin can, a splash of paint or
any other distinguishing mark. All lessees are protected in
their rights to the stock on their grounds, and this protec-
tion is enforced by guard boats which are provided,
DELAWARE BAY OYSTERS 359
manned and operated by the State. Oystermen must also
pay a dredging fee for each boat they use.
From Colonial days until recently the oyster beds in
Delaware Bay were a battleground for warring oystermen
from the two states bordering the bay. There were violent
disputes calling for police interference. But on October 9,
1933, the U. S. Supreme Court settled the controversy by
decreeing that the oyster beds of Delaware Bay lying east
of the main ship channel belonged to the State of New
Jersey. This decision added $1,250,000 to the value of the
State's oyster industry, and there has been no trouble since.
The cultivation and gathering of oysters are rigidly
controlled by the Board of Shell Fisheries, which employs
a director who must be an experienced oysterman. Opera-
tions are conducted very much as in farming. The grounds
are planted and the crop is harvested j but instead of
horses and reapers, schooners and dredges are used. The
insects which are so destructive to plant life have their
counterparts in undersea pests which molest the oysters.
Drumfish weighing 40 to 50 pounds crack or crush the
oystershells with their powerful jaws and eat the meat.
Starfish have for the most part been eliminated by local
action, but drills are still the most vicious of the oyster's
enemies. They are conical-shaped mollusks that drill
through the shell, discharging a fluid that dissolves the
oyster. The drill than sucks out the liquefied oyster.
Recently a successful method of exterminating drills
has been put into operation by the Works Progress Admin-
istration. Basketlike traps, made of open mesh wire and
containing young oysters, are placed on the borders of the
seedbeds to attract the drills. The numerous traps are
connected by subordinate ropes to master ropes which are
kept on the surface by floats. Once a week men visit the
360 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
baskets, shake off the drills into their skiffs and reset the
traps for further catches. The drills are taken ashore by
the millions and destroyed.
Sometimes storms carry mud or sand over the beds and
suffocate the oysters. Another enemy of the oyster is pol-
luted water. Against this nature has provided its own pro-
tection. Around the oyster is a membrane called a mantle,
through which all water must pass. This mantle strains
out any foreign substance and is so sensitive that it detects
any dangerous matter in the water. Automatically the
oystershell closes up before too much harmful water has
entered. When the water is too cold (48 degrees Fahren-
heit or less) the shell closes and the oyster hibernates, just
as does a bear or a frog, and remains in this state until the
water has become warm again.
The oyster beds of Delaware Bay extend halfway across
the Bay from Cape May to Oyster Cove, just south of
Stow Creek in Salem County. Midway between these
points are the natural or seed grounds provided by nature.
Here conditions of wind, tide and shore line provide ideal
conditions for development of the seed oysters. To the
north and south of these natural grounds are the planted
grounds where oysters dredged from the natural beds are
planted.
Oysters multiply by spawning. During the summer
months, when the water reaches 70 degrees, female oys-
ters on the planted grounds eject microscopic eggs by the
million. The eggs, rising to the surface of the water in a
cloudy mass, are fertilized by contacting the more abun-
dant floating sperm of the male oysters. During this free-
swimming period these potential oysters have the power
to submerge or raise themselves in the water. In strong
tides they sink to the bottom, where they remain until the
DELAWARE BAY OYSTERS 361
danger of being swept out to sea has passed. Normally
their drift is toward the natural seed grounds. When, at
length, shells begin to form, the young oysters or "spats"
sink permanently and attach themselves to whatever clean
surface is available. Since the bottom of the bay is either
sandy or muddy, and the young oyster can only attach
itself to a clean surface, the State periodically spreads old
oystershells over the bottom of the natural grounds, and
to these the tiny organisms cling as they grow. From then
on they are known as sets.
The natural or seed grounds, owned and controlled by
the State, are a common property from which all licensed
oystermen may gather seed, or sets, for their own licensed
planting grounds. Each oysterman's license fee depends
upon the tonnage of his boat, and, in the months of May
and June only, each man may gather as many seed oysters
from the natural grounds as his skill permits. During the
other ten months the natural grounds are left to replenish
themselves.
Seeking seed for planting, on May i the fleet of grace-
ful white-sailed and freshly painted ships sets off for the
natural seed grounds. From the Maurice River alone
more than 100 boats leave at one time, necessitating ex-
pert seamanship to avoid collision. All propeller wheels
are removed as required by law, for in shallow water a
propellor would disturb the seed, and waste oils would
endanger the young oysters.
At the seed grounds the oystermen cruise around, drag-
ging dredges hung from both sides of the boats, slowly
scraping from the bottom the old shells on which the spats
have grown to the average size of a 25^ piece. As soon as a
catch has been hauled on deck the crew sets to work cull-
ing out those shells to which no seed oysters are attached.
OYSTER FLEET
Shells without attached seed are shoveled back into the
water as required by law. State guards keep a sharp eye
on the oyster boats to see that the unseeded shells are
thrown back. Even the most hardened oystermen use rub-
ber ringer stalls in this work to avoid being cut by the
sharp edges of the shells.
When he has gathered a load the captain hastens to his
individual oyster ground to plant the new seed over bot-
tom that he has dredged clean the previous year. Each
oysterman divides his plot into sections marked off by
stakes, each section containing oysters in different stages
of development from the newly planted spats to mature
oysters ready for market.
Harvesting begins in September. On the planted
grounds the scene is not so picturesque as at the natural
beds. The white sails and sometimes the masts as well
have been removed, and powerful motors propel the
schooners and work the winches. The captain, usually the
owner, stands in the stern, handling the wheel and the
DELAWARE BAY OYSTERS 363
ropes that apply the power to lower and raise the two
dredges amidship. The deck crew of four or five men,
often relatives of the owner, stand by to handle the
dredges after the winches have drawn them to deck level.
These dredges are large, heavy bags made of iron rings.
Holding open the mouth of each dredge is an iron frame
edged with teeth on the under side. When the engine has
lowered the dredges to the bottom they trail behind the
schooner, like hand rakes on a lawn, gathering in oysters.
When the dredges are raised to the rail the members of
the crew hook the teeth of the dredges to a deck bar. The
frames of the dredges now being locked in position, the
oystermen seize the lower ends of the iron-mesh bags and,
upending them, spill the contents on the deck. The dredges
are then lowered again and the process is repeated. Ver-
tical and horizontal rollers on the sides of the boats keep
the dredges and chains from cutting into woodwork.
When the ship is finally loaded, it turns either to the
storage floats, to the wharves where the oysters are sorted
for market, or to the shucking house. Then it chugs out
for another load.
At the shucking houses the oysters are removed from
the shells. The people who do this work are called shuck-
ers, and they become so expert that they can open oysters
as fast as a hungry oyster-eater can devour them. The
shuckers grade oysters according to sizes, small, medium
or very large. Opened oysters are placed in cans which
are packed in cracked ice to be sent long distances.
Shellpile, opposite Port Norris on Maurice River,
where oysters are shucked and shipped, derives its name
from the immense piles of shells that accumulate in the
process of shucking. The empty shells find a ready mar-
ket. Some are converted into agricultural lime for fer-
364 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
tilizer, some are rough-ground for use on poultry farms
to provide a stronger growth of eggshell, and the rest are
purchased by the State to spread on the natural seed
grounds.
Recently there has been established at Port Norris a
packing plant where oysters are vacuum packed in eight-
ounce enamel-lined tins. Oysters are edible at any time,
even in the R-less months j but since May to August is
the spawning season, they are not dredged for market so
as to enable the stock to multiply.
The possibility of finding a pearl in a New Jersey oyster
is very remote. Certain chemicals and warm water are
needed to create pearls. Therefore the waters of the
Pacific and Indian Oceans are more friendly to the devel-
opment of these valuable gems.
Oystermen in Delaware Bay are the stalwart, supple,
weather-bronzed descendants of the pioneer Swedes and
English who settled the Delaware Basin and began the
oyster industry. While ashore in the idle months they
apply themselves to fixing up their boats and houses.
Being skillful seamen, they are in demand for taking out
summer fishing parties. From a curious stranger they may
withdraw into silence, but to overtures of friendly interest
they respond with cordiality. Theirs is a simple, closely
knit community life. They like their work and encourage
their children to follow them in it.
OYSTER
"SETS"
^^
THE AGE OF PLASTICS
Webster's dictionary defines plastic as "capable of being
molded or modeled." Quite recently the term plastics
has been adopted to cover a great new industry that is
fast entering every corner of modern life, from kitchen
to office, from factory to palace.
Celluloid, Bakelite, Pyralin, Catalin, Lucite, Plastacele
and many other substances belonging to this vast group of
new products have become indispensable to 2Oth century
civilization. In the interiors of buildings and ships plas-
tics have replaced iron and wood. In homes they insulate
electric appliances and supply heatproof handles for pots
and kettles. Combs and buttons are made of plastic; father
smokes a pipe with a plastic mouthpiece, and uses a plastic
ashtray when mother watches him; and the windows in
the car are safe only because a thin sheet of a cellulose
plastic cemented between two sheets of glass makes them
shatterproof. In fact, a list of all the products made of
plastic material would make a sizable book.
Since 1873, when the Celluloid Manufacturing Com-
pany moved to Newark from Albany, New Jersey has
been active in the production of plastics. In 1936 the value
of plastics produced in New Jersey was $15,000,000, about
one-third of the output of the entire Nation. Large pro-
ducers that have followed the lead of the Celluloid Cor-
poration in manufacturing various types of plastics are the
Du Pont Company in Arlington, the Luzerne Rubber
Company at Trenton, the Naugatuck Chemical Division
365
366 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
of the United States Rubber Company, Passaic, the Rich-
ardson Company, New Brunswick, and the Bakelite Cor-
poration, which in 1910 set up a factory at Perth Amboy
and now has two large plants, one in Bound Brook and
another in Bloomfield.
Civilization has progressed as man has learned to adapt
to his needs materials of the three natural kingdoms: ani-
mal, vegetable and mineral. Down through the centuries
he learned to till the fields, domesticate animals, utilize
metals, the power of the wind and the water. More re-
cently, in the I9th century, man's ingenuity enabled him
to turn the wheels of great engines by harnessing steam,
electricity, oil and gas.
All this had been done with the materials supplied by
nature. The metals came from the earth. Water was a gift.
Fire burned only because of oxygen in the air.
In the middle of the igth century, however, there de-
veloped a shortage of certain natural products. There was
not enough amber for combs and ornaments, bone for but-
tons, ivory for piano keys and billiard balls, to supply the
increasing demand. Scientists and chemists began to look
for substitutes. Here, indeed, was a new kingdom to be
conquered. In this, which is coming to be called the fourth
kingdom, men were seeking by formulas and scientific ex-
periment to supplement the materials made in nature's
laboratory.
To spur research a $10,000 prize was offered about
1860 for an ivory substitute in the making of billiard balls.
John Wesley Hyatt, born in Starkey, New York, Novem-
ber 28, 1837, was working as a journeyman printer in
Albany when he decided to try to produce the much-
needed material and win the prize. He had little knowl-
edge of chemistry, but he started conducting his experi-
THE AGE OF PLASTICS 367
ments in his spare time, at night and on Sundays.
Although he discovered several compositions, none was
good enough to replace ivory billiard balls.
With the help of his two brothers Hyatt set up a fac-
tory to make checkers and dominoes out of pressed wood.
Meanwhile he continued his search for an ivory substi-
tute. Finally, about 1868, he mixed flakes of paper, shellac
and collodion (a cottonlike substance mixed with alcohol
and ether). Together these materials hardened into a new
product. Billiard balls made from it sold by the thousands.
Inspired by success, Hyatt continued his experiments.
He treated ordinary cotton with acids to form what is
called cellulose nitrate or pyroxylin, added camphor and
produced a plastic that would take any shape and harden
quickly. It was a new product and must, therefore, have a
new name. Hyatt's brother, Isaiah, an editor, chose "cellu-
loid," a combination of the word "cellulose" and "oid"
(from the Greek word meaning like).
Dentists were the first to make use of this new product
to replace the dental plates of hard rubber then in use.
The Hyatt brothers organized the Albany Dental Plate
Company and prospered.
In 1871 they established the Celluloid Manufacturing
Company and began making knife handles, piano keys,
brushes and novelties. Two years later the factory was
moved to Newark. Celluloid entered the political picture
in 1872 when the first campaign buttons of that material
were used in the contest between Grant and Greeley.
Toward the end of the century, collars made of celluloid,
which could be kept eternally fresh with a damp cloth,
were a popular innovation.
The successful development of celluloid accelerated
plastic research throughout the world. In Newark the
368 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
Reverend Hannibal Goodwin was handicapped by the
continual breaking of the glass stereopticon plates he used
to illustrate his Sunday School lectures. The minister saw
that the celluloid developed by the Hyatt brothers might
be used to replace the glass plates which were so easily
broken. His problem was to make celluloid as clear as
glass.
In his parsonage attic Goodwin went to work. Occasion-
ally his wife and family downstairs were disturbed by ex-
plosions. The walls of the old house, still standing on
Broad Street, bear the stains and scars of the experiments j
but by 1887 ne h a d succeeded in making and patenting a
transparent film that was flexible enough to be wound on
spools. This was the beginning of the motion picture.
In Germany, too, the search for newer and better plas-
tics was continuing. In 1890 Dr. Adolph Spitteler, a Ham-
burg teacher, tried to make a white writing board as a
substitute for the blackboard. He was experimenting with
various chemicals with poor results, when one day he
mixed ordinary sour milk with formaldehyde, a colorless
gas. The result was a hard shiny substance that resembled
the cow's horn rather than its milk. This material,
known as casein plastic, is made into buckles, buttons and
novelties.
About this time a new adventurer, Dr. Leo Baekeland,
a Belgian chemist, entered the field. He had just perfected
and sold to the Eastman Kodak Company his patent for
Velox photographic printing paper and was looking for
new fields of endeavor. He decided that if he could find
a substitute for expensive shellac used in varnishes and
insulating materials he would have answered a problem
that had been facing chemists for years. Dr. Baekeland's
NT GEARS
PLASTIC
first work was to check the attempts of his colleagues to
find out where they had failed.
He proceeded slowly and carefully, observing the reac-
tions between various materials he was using. As he
watched the changes taking place in the test tubes and
retorts, he saw a promise of an entirely new material
something far beyond a substitute for natural resins.
In 1907 he was successful in obtaining a hard substance
by combining phenol and formaldehyde. This new mate-
rial had many of the properties of amber, but it was much
stronger and harder, and it was almost impervious to heat.
Once it had taken form under terrific heat, nothing could
melt it. The new substance was called Bakelite resinoid
after its inventor.
At the time of its invention, Dr. Baekeland estimated
WATERPROOFING WITH
RESENOID
Courtesy Bakelite Corp'n.
that this new product could be used in 43 industries.
Today Bakelite is used in hundreds of different ways.
Bakelite was first introduced to industry when the Boon-
ton Rubber Company, Boonton, New Jersey, molded it
for use as insulating material at the request of an elec-
trical company.
Generally speaking, there are two forms of plastics in
use today: thermoplastics and thermosetting plastics.
Thermoplastics, to which group celluloid belongs, may be
softened and remolded after they are formed j but the
thermosetting plastics can never be recast or remolded.
Bakelite is a member of the thermosetting plastic family.
Modern plastics, made from a soft mass, are cast and
molded into various shapes. In the production of molded
materials the liquid resinoid is allowed to harden. Then
it is pulverized and mixed with a filler such as wood,
Courtesy Du Pont & Co.
LUCITE
flour or asbestos. Under heat and pressure the substance
becomes soft enough to be formed by dies into any desired
shape. After it is shaped in this manner it is again allowed
to harden. Molded Bakelite is a plastic of this kind.
37 2 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
Plastics for casting are poured while in a liquid state
into forms where they harden. The product is furnished
to the trade in sheets, rods and tubes which are cut as if
they were wood or steel. Decorative and colorful plastics
are made by the casting process.
When plastics enter into the construction of laminated
sheets for use in radio cabinets, wallboards, electrical in-
strument panels, gear wheels and kindred products, a
slightly different process is used. Instead of forming
sheets of the plastic by molding or stamping, the resinoid
is made in the form of a varnish. Into this liquid is dipped
either paper or cloth. When many coats have been applied
and dried, the stiffened cloth or paper is cut to the re-
quired size, and placed in layers one on top of the other.
These are pressed together under terrific pressure and
heat, and the whole mass solidifies into one sheet. This is
called a laminated plastic because it is built of layers. It
is much tougher than a plain plastic sheet would be,
because the cloth or paper acts as a reinforcement.
Strangely enough, the plastic industry got its greatest
stimulus during the business depression. Manufacturers
everywhere were losing money and needed new products
to stimulate sales. Newer, more durable and more beau-
tiful plastics made their appearance in almost every con-
ceivable shape. The "gadget" industry called on the
plastic chemists to find new materials for ashtrays, ciga-
rette holders, automobile accessories, ornamental jewelry,
scuffless heels and countless other small items that are
bought in great quantities.
Industries that had existed for years without using plas-
tics began to employ them in an effort to brighten their
wares. A large manufacturer of grocery scales found that
his salesmen had to be brawny as well as brainy to demon-
strate their ware. Some of the counter scales weighed as
THE AGE OF PLASTICS 373
much as 165 pounds. A new plastic called Plaskon, one of
the ureaformaldehyde resins, was invented to take the
place of metal. Besides cutting the weight of the scales
from 165 pounds to 55 pounds, Plaskon, which is made
in bright colors, has been extended to include poker chips,
buttons, boxes, radio cabinets and frames.
Other recent plastic products are: Catalin, a phenol-
formaldehyde resin made in many colors for buckles,
beads, chessmen, etc.; Lumarith, a cellulose acetate used
in making noninflammable motion picture film; and
Lucite, a methyl methacrylate plastic recently perfected
by the E. I. Du Pont de Nemours Company which is
carrying the industry into still another field.
This highly transparent and nonshattering plastic is so
strong that it can be readily carved for ornamental use.
Because it retains transparency and can be more accurately
molded than glass, Lucite has been introduced in reflectors
for highway lighting. Placed at regular intervals on either
side of the road, these reflectors pick up the light from
oncoming automobiles and illuminate the roadway so
effectively that much of the glare from headlights is
eliminated. This is a long step toward overcoming the
dangers of night driving.
In Washington, the new Library of Congress contains
$100,000 worth of Bakelite laminated plastics, used both
for decoration and utility. A comparable sum was spent
on plastics for the de luxe staterooms on the new British
liner Queen Mary.
The work of improving and inventing plastics goes on.
The field is almost unlimited. Even the inventors cannot
foresee all of the new uses to be found for their products.
It is possible that plastic houses will be built before many
years; or that some article, hitherto undreamed of, will be
placed on the market and revolutionize modern life.
CEDAR MINING IN NEW JERSEY'S
SUNKEN FOREST
Mining and lumbering, two industries that seem to
bear little relation to one another, have been combined
uniquely in the swamplands of southern New Jersey in
a district that looks as if it would yield nothing but mud
and mosquitoes. A century or more ago a sunken forest
of white cedar was discovered in the Great Cedar Swamp
which stretches for seven miles across the neck of Cape
May peninsula, following the shores of Dennis Creek and
Cedar Creek, that drain the swamp's overflow.
Early settlers of the region dug into the thick muck of
the swamp and brought up great trees that had lain for
centuries covered more and more by the accumulation of
swamp ooze. From these they cut logs and shingles for
their homes.
Cedar mining was an important industry in South Jer-
sey until about 50 years ago. Then, as cheaper lumber
was brought in from the northwest, the industry fell into
a decline. Recently a small company of men engaged in
removing peat for fertilizer from the swamplands near
Haleyville in Cumberland County discovered another
sunken forest. Logs buried from 4 to 20 feet deep are
now being mined and sent to the sawmill at Dennisville
to be made into planks. Cedar is valuable for use as shin-
gles, siding for boats, and for other purposes where it will
be called on to resist water.
It is this quality of resistance to dampness that has pre-
374
Courtesy Wide World Photos
SEARCHING FOR CEDAR LOGS
served the buried cedar logs. Lumber cut from them is as
usable as that made from living cedar and gives off the
same fragrance as if it had been cut yesterday in the green
forests.
It is not uncommon to find buried cedar logs in swampy
places throughout the United States - y but there are few
places where men have troubled to dig for the hidden
treasure. No one can estimate how long these logs have
lain in their mucky bed. The count of the annual ring
growths on one of the logs recently mined showed that
the tree was 500 years old when it fell. There is a tradi-
tion of a log found a century ago with more than 1,000
rings.
The submergence of these cedar trees is explained in
several ways none of which has been proved conclu-
sively. One school of thought has it that the land on
which the trees stood sank gradually. As water began to
stand around the trees the earth softened, the trees lost
their hold, and overturned. The land continued to sink
and eventually the growth was entirely buried beneath
the silt. Another theory maintains that a great hurricane
once leveled the entire forest of about 12 square miles.
376 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
The felled giants then slowly sank beneath the ooze.
Among the many legends of South Jersey is one that
attributes the submergence of the cedar forest to the flood
that prompted the building of Noah's Ark.
The surface of the swamp is largely covered with brush
and a few stunted trees surrounded by pools of water.
There are higher spots, however, where the ground is dry
and where farming has been made possible by the use of
dykes that keep out floods.
That South Jersey land is sinking has been well known
for a century or more. Commodore Stephen Decatur when
a guest at Cape May Point measured the loss each year
from 1804 to 1820 and found that the coast had receded
about 1 60 feet in that time. The State geologist 70 years
ago reported the sea still advancing. The silt that has
buried the trees has also filled some of the streams. There
are records and pictures of large ships built along Dennis
Creek where only motorboats now run. There are great
areas of salt marsh on the coast of Delaware Bay once
said to have been farm land.
When the first white settlers came to southern New
Jersey they found themselves much hampered in their
explorations of the interior by the Great Swamp, which
prevented their building roads across the land, and they
had to use boats to travel. It is not certain how or when
they discoverd the sunken forest, but it probably was very
early in the State's history. There is a cabin made of hand-
hewn cedar timber on the grounds of the Hancock House,
at Hancock's Bridge near Salem, that is said to have been
built by the Swedes more than 200 years ago with cedar
mined from the swamps of New Jersey. In 1740, when
Independence Hall needed a roof, hand-split shingles
from the Great Cedar Swamp's logs were used, and about
CEDAR MINING IN JERSEY'S SUNKEN FOREST 377
30 years ago the Hall was reshingled with Cape May
cedar.
For many years there has been at Dennisville a saw-
mill that cuts the logs into planks and shingles. Captain
Ogden Gandy, now 90 years old, runs the sawmill. He
remembers the days when ships of 200 to i,OOO tons were
built along Dennis Creek. At that time most of the men
in this neighborhood were seafarers. Between voyages
young Gandy used to mine the cedar logs and help to
cut them into boards and shingles.
It is said by some people that shingles made from these
cedar logs will last for 100 years, although Mr. Gandy
does not claim a longer life for them than 60 or 65 years.
One of the customers of the Dennisville sawmill was a
water tank builder. One day he told Mr. Gandy that he
would buy no more of his material, because it was too
good. "Tanks built of your cedar last a lifetime," he said,
"and I never get repeat orders. I can build a tank of soft
Southern pine and in a few years my customer will need
another tank." The tank builder never bought another
foot of cedar.
The cedar wood is used in boatbuilding, although it is
not tough enough for the hulls of large ships. It is used
for the center boards of boats and for parts of motorboats
and other small craft.
The men who go out into the swamps to mine the sub-
merged cedar are called "swampers." Armed with progues,
which are iron rods about 1 2 feet long, pointed at one end
with a ring or loop at the other, the swampers poke
around in the deep muck until one of them strikes a sound
log. With his progue the swamper finds out just how the
log lies; then he and his helpers shovel off the muck until
the log is in view.
Courtesy Wide World Photos
LONG CEDAR PLANKS CUT FOR BOAT BUILDING
With log saws, very much like those used to cut ice
from lakes and rivers, the logs are cut into six-foot lengths.
While the men are cutting the logs the water flows into
the hole made by taking off the muck. In many instances
the water will be deep enough to allow the sawed-off sec-
tion to float to the surface. This, of course, is a help to
the swamper, for then all he has to do is attach a rope to
the section, place a couple of skids under it, and haul it
to solid footing.
When the logs do not float to the surface the swampers
are obliged to fasten a rope or chain around the section,
pull it to the surface, and then lift it with skids and man
power.
In the last few years a tractor, or perhaps an old auto-
mobile engine, or, if conditions permit, a truck has been
used to haul the logs out after they are cut. The logs are
dragged to a point where the ground is solid enough to
CEDAR MINING IN JERSEY^ SUNKEN FOREST 379
enable them to be loaded on trucks and hauled to the
sawmill.
They have to lie in the sun for some time to dry out.
Then the outside slabs are cut off, either thick or thin,
according to the quality of the log. The balance of the log
is cut into strips for the manufacture of shingles. Some of
the board lengths are kept for use in boatbuilding.
Because of the inaccessibility of the swamplands and the
difficulty and expense of extracting the logs from their
ancient burial place, it is not likely that cedar mining will
ever be a major industry. But those who have made use
of this prehistoric cedar value it for its lasting quality.
TRANSPORTATION
JOHN FITCH AND HIS STEAMBOAT
Whistles from tugboats, ferries and factories salute the
arrival of every new transatlantic liner on her maiden
voyage to New York Harbor. Streams of water are
sprayed from a municipal fireboat, planes wheel overhead
with newsreel cameramen, excursion boats and small craft
of every kind cluster about the giant vessel, while trim
gray patrol boats of the Coast Guard regulate the harbor
traffic. From the skyscrapers of Manhattan and from the
shores of Brooklyn and Staten Island thousands of people
watch the new liner as she noses her way up the channel,
past the Statue of Liberty and into a berth on the Hudson
River.
There were no whistles, planes or skyscrapers on an
August day in 1807 when an awkward little boat with a
tall smokestack churned steadily up the river toward
Albany at the then amazing speed of four miles an hour.
No photographers recorded the scene, but there were thou-
sands of watchers on both shores of the river to shout and
cheer with a fervor that is unknown to the placid throngs
who turn out these days to see a new ship come in.
The little steamboat, the Clermont y built by Robert
Fulton, was hailed as one of the wonders of the world.
Back of the demonstration that brought permanent fame
to Fulton was the story of another man's struggle, dis-
couragement and tragic death ; a story that has been almost
lost in the crowded record of America's progress.
Nine years before the triumphal voyage of the Cler-
383
384 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
mont y Colonel John Stevens, at his home in Hoboken,
New Jersey (now the site of Stevens' Institute of Tech-
nology), had perfected a steamboat which he tried out on
a run from Belleville to New York. This boat he called
the Little Juliana. In 1807 he applied for a lease to oper-
ate his second boat, the Phoenix, as a steam ferry between
Hoboken and New York. This was the first steam ferry
in the world, but it had a short career, for Robert Fulton
had obtained from New York a monopoly to operate boats
on the Hudson, and Stevens was ordered to take his boat
out of service.
Nothing daunted, the Phoenix steamed jauntily down
the bay to the open sea and headed for the Delaware
River, thus making a record as the first ocean-going steam
vessel.
But 20 years before the sensational voyage of the Cler-
mont, another boat on another river had dazzled the im-
agination of a group of prominent American citizens,
members of the convention gathered in Philadelphia to
frame a Federal Constitution. This was the first boat in
America to be propelled by steam for any distance, the
invention of John Fitch, an obscure clockmaker and silver-
smith, born in Connecticut in 1743.
At the outbreak of the Revolution Fitch had been made
a lieutenant in the Colonial Army. It soon became ap-
parent that he would be of more service to the cause as
a gunsmith and armorer, and Washington ordered him to
Trenton. He worked long hours on weekdays and even
Sundays in his gun shop, making arms for the fighting
men. His few spare moments were devoted to study.
Books were rare in those days, but Fitch read every one
he could find. When the British entered Trenton in 1776,
Fitch fled with what belongings he could gather to Bucks
JOHN FITCH AND HIS STEAMBOAT 385
County, Pennsylvania, where he buried part of his little
hoard of savings. The English had heard of his activities
as a gunsmith and destroyed his little shop on King Street.
At the close of the Revolution Fitch sought an appoint-
ment as a surveyor in the western country soon to be
opened up to settlers. He had traveled as far west as Ken-
tucky. There he had invested some of his savings in land.
Soon after this fresh start he had been captured by sav-
ages while on a voyage down the Ohio and had been
marched by them through the wilderness as far west as
Detroit. From his experience with the Indians he retained
a vision of the vast opportunities that were offered in the
unexplored country j great rivers, and miles of woodland
ready for the hand of the enterprising white man. So far
the only means of reaching this new treasure-land was by
horse- or mule-drawn wagons, or hand-propelled boats.
One day after his return to Pennsylvania, Fitch was
walking along the street in Neshaminy. His progress
somewhat slowed by rheumatism contracted during his
wilderness journeys, he looked rather enviously at a dash-
ing horse-drawn carriage that sped by him. Speed that
was what was wanted in this new country and power that
would draw heavy loads.
He had read of the Englishman, James Watt, who had
discovered the power of steam. To Fitch and others the
idea had occurred that steam might be used to propel
wagons. Although he had never seen a drawing of a steam
engine, he began to design an engine for wagons. After
working with the idea enthusiastically for a week, he de-
cided it would be impractical to operate a heavy vehicle
over the rough roads.
But he did think that a steam engine might move a boat
against tide and wind and at greater speed than was pos-
386 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
sible with sail or oars. Afire with his new idea, he set to
work on drawings for a boat with an engine. Three weeks
later he took his drawings to a friend, the Reverend
Nathaniel Irwin, who was much interested in the young
inventor's idea. The minister took from his shelves a book
with a description and drawing of a stationary steam en-
gine. This was the first that Fitch knew of an engine in
operation, although one had been used for pumping at the
copper mine in Arlington, New Jersey, since 1753. News
traveled slowly in those days, but ideas for inventions
were developed in all parts of the civilized world among
people who had no communication with one another
ideas born of the necessity for improving man's mode
of life.
When Fitch saw that a practical use had been found for
steam, he set to work with renewed enthusiasm to carry
out his plan. Like all inventors and men of genius who
can see into the future beyond the actual accomplishment
of their own hands and brain, Fitch visioned steamboats
traveling up and down the rivers of the new country,
carrying food and clothing to the new settlers in the wil-
derness, bringing back wood, furs and other products to
JOHN FITCH'S STEAMBOAT OF 1786, 1787
JOHN FITCH AND HIS STEAMBOAT 387
the cities on the coast. He gathered all available literature
on the steam engine and saturated his mind with it. His
first model, built of brass, had wooden side paddle wheels j
but he later abandoned these in favor of a row of oars or
paddles suspended from a frame.
Fitch Seeks Aid
He traveled to Mount Vernon to see General Washing-
ton to enlist his interest in presenting his idea to Congress
not only to protect his patent rights but to secure finan-
cial aid. He interviewed the members of the legislatures
of Virginia, Pennsylvania, Delaware, New York and New
Jersey. The last-named State was the first to grant him
exclusive rights to construct and operate steamboats on the
rivers and streams under its jurisdiction. This was in
March 1786. The other states followed New Jersey's
example shortly, but Congress still withheld its support.
From Virginia came a rival claim, made by a young
man named James Rumsey, who said that he had in-
vented a steamboat. Fitch refuted his claim by proving
that the boat was propelled only by a stream of water
sucked in at the bow and forced out at the stern by a
steam engine. Rumsey's boat, moreover, moved at only
two miles an hour and never traveled more than 400
yards.
But Fitch needed more than legal rights to carry out his
plan successfully. Money was necessary to build models,
and money was one thing that John Fitch did not have.
He has come down in history as "Poor John Fitch."
Although the "poor" probably refers to the unjust treat-
ment he received and the chain of unfortunate circum-
stances that thwarted his ambition, it is probably true that,
if John Fitch had been able to command enough money
388 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
to work out his experiments, his sad story would have had
a very different ending.
He tried to enlist the support of the American Philo-
sophical Society of Philadelphia, of which Benjamin
Franklin was president. But Franklin, whose many inven-
tions were already being widely used in America and
Europe, was merely amused at Fitch's efforts. Having
seen the plans and the first working model, Franklin re-
marked: "The amount of room taken up in the hull by
the engine and fuel and the excessive cost of upkeep
makes this type of navigation unfeasible. I do not believe
it will ever prove practical."
Fitch's enthusiasm and many letters of appeal gained
him enough backing to organize "The Steam Boat Com-
pany," as fantastic a title in those days as would be "The
Mars Transportation Company" today. When the com-
pany had accumulated $300 in subscriptions the intrepid
inventor started to work to build his boat. He had man-
aged to secure the aid of a young watchmaker named
Henry Voigt. Together they labored hours over models
and plans until on July 27, 1786, they announced that
they were ready to demonstrate the successful operation
of a boat by steam.
The boat was about 45 feet long, with a row of pad-
dles on either side attached to an endless chain. Not much
larger than a fisherman's dory, most of the space in the
hull was taken up by the bulky engine, and what little
room remained was occupied by the piles of wood required
for fuel.
The noise and confusion caused by the crude engine
scared many of the onlookers, who expected it to explode
at any minute. Not a few of the crowd moved away before
the tiny vessel had a fair trial. One person, however, had
JOHN FITCH AND HIS STEAMBOAT 389
faith in the future of Fitch's ideas. He was the Spanish
Ambassador to this country, who wanted the rights to the
invention for his own country. Fitch refused his offers of
financial aid, preferring to keep his invention for the
improvement of America's commerce.
The Steamboat Runs
The inventor returned to his workshop, determined to
improve on his first attempt. On August 22, 1787, with
all members of the Constitutional Convention except Gen-
eral Washington present, John Fitch's second steamboat,
its engine chugging steadily, moved sedately up the Dela-
ware River against the tide, its paddles swinging rhythmi-
cally on either side. Despite the success of the demonstra-
tion, people could not see that steam would ever operate
a boat as quickly or cheaply as sails or oars. Moreover,
JOHN FITCH'S STEAMBOAT 1788, 1789, .1790
39 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
they looked askance at the snorting little demon that fur-
nished the uncanny power, and expected the whole con-
traption to blow up.
There were, however, a number of people, inspired by
Fitch's enthusiasm, willing to finance further experiments
in overcoming defects in the engine. Once more the in-
ventor and his mechanic went to work. By July 1788 they
were ready to launch another boat on the Delaware. The
new model had a row of paddles, shaped somewhat like
snow shovels, at the stern. The whole countryside turned
out for the exhibition. Both shores of the river were lined
with cheering spectators as the little craft plowed against
the current up to Bordentown, making eight miles an
hour.
Just before reaching the dock the boiler sprang a leak
so that the engine would not work. They had to cast
anchor and wait for the next tide to float them ashore.
Nevertheless, John Fitch's boat had done what had never
been done in the world before. It had been impelled for
twenty miles by steam against the tide. This little accident
was of the sort that turns enthusiasts into scoffers. But to
a man like John Fitch, who had faith in his ideas and
determination to succeed, it acted only as an incentive.
Fitch and Voigt returned to their workshop and by
October had completely redeemed themselves. Two suc-
cessful trips with boatloads of passengers were made to
Burlington in 190 minutes.
Fitch's crowning achievement was his commercial steam-
boat of 1790. All that summer the boat carried passen-
gers and freight to and from various points along the
Delaware and Schuylkill. It was operated on a schedule,
just as are the steamboats of today. But it was not a finan-
cial success. The public did not patronize it, for they saw
JOHN FITCH AND HIS STEAMBOAT 391
no practical use for steamboats. Time meant very little in
those easy-going days, and it was hard to convince them
that coal and wood would ever be more effective than
wind.
Fitch was eager to present the Nation with his precious
gift. He was sure that steam navigation would play a great
part in the opening up of the west by conquering the
waters of the mighty Mississippi ; but his pleadings fell
upon deaf ears, and he was consistently ignored by the
Federal Government.
Money for further experiments was hard to find. One
boat, built for use on the Ohio River, ran aground in a
storm and was wrecked. There were constant accidents
that discouraged his backers, while powerful friends of
Rumsey did all they could to balk his efforts.
Fitch Goes to Europe
The various uses to which the new steam power could
be put was a subject that was occupying the attention of
inventors and scientists the w6rld over. Considerable ex-
perimentation was going on in England, France, Holland
and other European countries at this time. Discouraged
by the attitude of his fellow countrymen and anxious to
see what could be gained by further investigation, Fitch
managed to secure the aid of a few faithful friends to
finance a trip abroad.
With the idea of exploiting his plans in some of the
continental countries, he took into his confidence Aaron
Vail, the U. S. consul at POrient, France. Unfortunately,
Fitch had chosen an inopportune time to promote his idea
in France. This was the year 1793, and the turmoil of
the French Revolution put an end to his plans. Leaving
his drawings and specifications with Vail in France, Fitch
392 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
traveled to England. Perhaps another reason for his fail-
ure to get a hearing was that among the number of people
in Europe at the time studying the problem of steam
navigation was Robert Fulton. Fulton had what Fitch
had not a rich, enthusiastic, liberal and influential patron,
Chancellor Robert Livingston of New York. He also had
at his disposal the very best machinery that could be made
in Europe, whereas Fitch had made his own with the
help of an ordinary blacksmith. There seems little doubt
that Fulton had access to Fitch's drawings while they
were in the hands of Aaron Vail, for when the Clermont
sailed up the Hudson in 1807 ner engine was designed
from plans that had originated and been patiently worked
out by the obscure and forgotten genius.
In the depths of his discouragement, two years before,
Fitch had said one day, when he was 48 years old, "The
day will come when some more powerful man will get
fame and riches from my invention; but nobody will be-
lieve that poor John Fitch can do anything worthy of
attention."
Return to America
Wearied and discouraged, and completely out of money,
Fitch shipped for home as a common sailor. For a while
he wandered about Philadelphia, trying desperately to
gain the backing he so badly needed. Frantic at the blind-
ness of Congress, utterly powerless to obtain recognition
that was justly his, hungry and poorly clad and half-
demented from discouragement, he turned his back on
the scene of his disappointment and proceeded to his
land in Kentucky. He found it occupied by squatters whom
he had to eject.
He tried to gain the support of his Congressman from
JOHN FITCH AND HIS STEAMBOAT 393
Kentucky, but met with the usual rebuff. Heartbroken,
penniless and tired of the long struggle, Fitch committed
suicide during the spring of 1798. He was buried in a
pauper's grave in the churchyard at Bardstown, Kentucky.
His death went unnoticed, and by the time Fulton
launched his Clermont in 1807 Fitch was no longer even
a memory. The success of Fulton's vessel struck the world
like a bombshell, and credit for the invention of the
steamboat went to Fulton on a sweeping tide of public
admiration.
In 1887, exactly 100 years after Fitch's first steamboat
was launched on the Delaware River, the Legislature
of Connecticut, the State in which he was born, placed a
bronze tablet to his memory on the east wall of the State
Capitol. The memorial reads: "First in world's history
to invent and apply steam propulsion of vessels through
water." The tablet was dedicated with appropriate cere-
monies.
The citizens of Kentucky, Fitch's adopted State, were
spurred into action as a result of the Connecticut memorial.
The inventor's body was removed from its obscure burial
place to the Bardstown Public Square. A fund of $15,000
was obtained from Congress to erect a suitable memorial
to Fitch's memory, and the body of the illustrious pioneer
in steam navigation was placed in a sarcophagus.
At Trenton, along the banks of the Delaware on John
Fitch Way, a memorial boulder, placed in 1921, honors
the man whose crude engine was the first to disturb the
placid waters of the river.
THE FIRST RAILROAD IN NEW JERSEY
James Watt, a studious lad, seated in his mother's
kitchen in Greenock, Scotland, watched the lid of the
teakettle rise from the pressure of the steam within. He
realized then that steam was power. This discovery, and
the boy's ability to apply it in the first stationary steam
engine, brought about the railroad.
In 1788, at his home in Hoboken, Colonel John
Stevens, engineer, read of the invention of the young
Scot in an English journal and ordered one of the Watt
stationary engines shipped to him. Stevens was one of
the forward-looking men of the country. He had served
as an officer in the Revolution and at the age of 27 was
appointed State Treasurer. He realized that transporta-
tion was to play a great part in the development of the
country that he loved, and he saw in the Watt steam
engine promise of a solution of this problem. At first he
devoted his experiments to applying steam to navigation,
although there were many others working in this same
field.
When the adaptation of steam power to boats was as-
sured by the successes of John Fitch, Robert Fulton and
Stevens' own Little Juliana (the first regularly operated
steam ferry in the world), the indefatigable engineer
turned his attention to the development of a steam-pro-
pelled wagon.
This was a period when a change in the method of
hauling freight from one part of the State to the other
394
THE FIRST RAILROAD IN NEW JERSEY 395
was under consideration. Canals, expensive as they were
to build and to maintain, seemed to be the only alterna-
tive to the horse-drawn wagons traveling the almost im-
passable roads.
As early as 1812 Stevens had urged De Witt Clinton,
later Governor of New York, to abandon plans for the
proposed Erie Canal and to substitute a railroad. He
claimed that a speed of 20 to 30 miles an hour could be
attained with railroad cars and declared that 100 miles an
hour might be achieved. He had traveled in vain to New
York, Pennsylvania and even as far as North Carolina,
trying to have the legislatures appropriate funds for his
railroad-building plan. But he was considered a vision-
ary, and Chancellor Robert Livingston of New York bade
him try out his railroad himself in order to see whether
there was really anything practical in his plan.
The Colonel was an old man well in his seventies, but
he was indomitable. In 1824 he completed construction
of an experimental "steam waggon," as he called it, and
built a circular track on the grounds of his Hoboken es-
tate (now occupied by the athletic field of Stevens' Insti-
tute). He invited the members of the Society for Internal
Improvement, of which he was the founder, to witness
the result of his years of study and experiment. The
engine was mounted on a platform with ordinary wagon
wheels which were geared to the track by casters placed
at the end of vertical posts on each corner of the frame.
The fire was built, the water connected with the tubes
from a barrel, steam generated in confinement, just as the
steam had been generated in the kettle in Greenock, the
throttle was opened, and the wheels of the "steam wag-
gon" turned. Around and around the wooden track at
12 miles an hour traveled the first locomotive built and
396 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
operated in this country. The boiler and steam valve used
that momentous day are now in the Smithsonian Institu-
tion in Washington.
John Stevens, 76 years old when he accomplished this
marvel, could not expect to realize his dream of wide
railroad development. But he had made the initial step,
and his sons would carry on for him.
In 1830 the two sons, Robert Livingston and Edwin,
became president and treasurer respectively of the Cam-
den and Amboy Railroad, chartered by the New Jersey
Legislature. The cars were to be horse-drawn and used
primarily for freight. Despite the successful performance
in England of a locomotive made by George Stephenson
called the Rocket y few people considered steam locomo-
tives seriously. Nevertheless, Robert L. Stevens, follow-
ing in the path laid out by his father, sailed for England
to investigate the new engine, authorized to order one
should it appear practicable.
Stevens had been studying the problem of rails and
on the way over whittled out in wood the model of a
design for T-rails, which are the standard rails in use
on all American railroads today. Arriving in England, he
had considerable difficulty in finding a firm that would
manufacture the iron rails according to his specifications.
Finally, by placing a generous deposit against the pos-
sible breakdown of the machinery, he persuaded a mill
operator to undertake the job.
An improvement on the Rocket called the Planet gave
so satisfactory a demonstration that Stevens decided to
order one engine for the new American railroad. Pending
the arrival of the new engine, Robert and Edwin Stevens
had the roadbed laid at Bordentown. Rock was trans-
ported from the quarries at Sing Sing, New York, and
THE FIRST RAILROAD IN NEW JERSEY 397
laid much as a cobblestone road would be spread, the
spikes to hold the rails down being driven between the
stones. But the failure of a shipment of rock caused the
road builders to try wooden ties, which were found to
be far more satisfactory.
The John Bull y as the locomotive was called, with all
its component parts and the six and one-half miles of
rail, reached Bordentown in 24 shiploads during 1831.
The arrival caused considerable excitement; but to young
Isaac Dripps, the mechanic who had undertaken to as-
semble the engine, it was a matter of deep concern. The
parts were uncrated and laid on the ground. Then it was
discovered that Stephenson and Company, the English
makers of the engine, had neglected to send the drawings
by which it could be assembled. Here was a picture puz-
zle in iron that would have dismayed most mechanics,
but it did not deter Isaac Dripps. He had never seen a
locomotive, but he set to work doggedly, fitting one part
to the other, and by trial and error the John Bull finally
took shape after several weeks of hard labor.
The locomotive was fitted on its wooden platform and
to this was attached the tender, another wooden plat-
form which carried pinewood for fuel and a whisky barrel
filled with water. The barrel and the engine were con-
nected by a leather pipe made by a local cobbler. Behind
the tender were two carriages with flanged wheels to fit
the tracks and with benches for the passengers. The en-
gine had been tried out several times to see whether
Dripps had managed to get all the parts just in the right
places, and now, on November 12, 1831, all was ready
for the final test. Invitations had been sent to members
of the legislature at Trenton. All Bordentown and vicin-
ity turned out for a gala day. In the gathering were many
A PIECE OF CAMDEN & AMBOY R. R. TRACK SHOWING.
STONE TIES
farmers ready to celebrate the failure of the experiment,
for if this newfangled thing worked they stood to lose
the business of supplying horses and their feed to the
railroads. They could not foresee that success would help
every Jerseyman who had anything to sell to the great
outside world.
When Ben Higgins, assistant to Dripps, stoked the
boiler with pinewood, and the great plumes of black smoke
shot from the funnel, the people backed away. It must
have been a fearsome sight. The visitors were reluctant
to accept invitations to ride. But there was one in the
crowd who was not afraid, Madame Murat, wife of Prince
Murat, exiled French nobleman who was living in Bor-
dentown at the time. She tucked her bonnet down tightly,
drew her billowing skirts close to her legs, and was helped
ry Cc
THE JOHN BULL
up to a seat in one of the carriages. Following her exam-
ple, the rest of the company stepped gingerly on board;
Robert Stevens gave the word to the faithful Dripps, and
the throttle was pulled open. The wheels spun ineffectu-
ally for a while but finally gripped the tracks, and the
Camden and Amboy Railroad was functioning. Later,
their clothes strewn with ashes and their eyes filled with
smoke, the group of dignitaries and their friends made
their way triumphantly to Arnell's Hotel, where a gala
luncheon was served.
Following the demonstration the John Bull waited pa-
tiently in a shed while the railroad was finished between
Bordentown and South Amboy. In September of the fol-
lowing year it was placed in regular service.
In 1891 the Pennsylvania Railroad, which had leased
4OO STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
the Camden and Amboy 20 years previously, erected a
monument at Bordentown in honor of the John Bull.
Sunk in a granite slab is a bronze tablet with this in-
scription:
First movement by steam on a railroad in the State
of New Jersey, November 12, 1831, by the original
locomotive "John Bull," now deposited in the United
States National Museum in Washington. The first
piece of track in New Jersey was laid by the Camden
and Amboy Railroad between this point and the stone
3500 feet eastward, in 1831.
The Camden and Amboy, however, cannot claim the
honor of being the first American railroad with locomotive
power. The Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, the oldest com-
pany in continuous service in the United States, sent out
its first train from Baltimore on August 28, 1830. It ran
to Ellicott's Mills, a distance of 13 miles, drawn by an
engine called the Tom Thumb, built by Peter Cooper.
There was also the Carbondale and Honesdale Railroad
in Pennsylvania, which made a trial run with an English
engine, the Stourbridge Lion, August 8, 1829.
The railroads developed so rapidly that the little John
Bull was soon out of date. It was stowed away in the
care of the Smithsonian Institution along with the boiler
and steam valve of Colonel John Stevens' earlier locomo-
tive that had raced around his circular track at Stevens'
Castle.
After 62 years, in 1893, the iron picture puzzle that
Isaac Dripps had so laboriously put together for Robert
and Edwin Stevens was run out of the Museum and given
another opportunity to display its prowess. Beside a mod-
THE FIRST RAILROAD IN NEW JERSEY 40 1
ern locomotive, it looked like a beetle. It was taken to
New York and there hitched to the old carriages that it
had first drawn. There had been a long search to find
them. One was being used as a chicken coop ; the feathered
passengers had to be dispossessed. The John EM and its
ancient tender and carriages were put on the railroad
tracks and pointed due west. The boiler was stoked, water
fed the tubes, steam generated once more in the old en-
gine, and with a snort the train was under way for Chi-
cago, 930 miles distant. The journey was made without
breakdown or accident. In every city and village along
the way it was hailed by enthusiastic crowds. Its holiday
ended, the antique locomotive was taken back to Wash-
ington, there to remain as a symbol of great American
achievements.
THE MORRIS CANAL
In the i82o's America was expanding, and there was
great enthusiasm for artificial waterways to transport
heavy materials such as coal and iron from the isolated
interior to the growing manufacturing centers along the
Atlantic seaboard. There were vast stretches of country
rich in iron and coal that were forced to depend for trans-
portation on the slow-moving horse- or mule-drawn wag-
ons traveling the often impassable roads.
One day in 1822 a Morristown, New Jersey, man
named George P. McCulloch was fishing at Great Pond,
or Lake Hopatcong as it is now called. It occurred to
him that the amount of water spilling out of that lake
would be enough to maintain a canal running from Hopat-
cong east to Newark and west to the Delaware. At that
time coal from the mines in the vicinity of Easton, Penn-
sylvania, had to be transported to eastern cities by the
long water route down the Delaware and up the New
Jersey coast, or by wagons which could haul only a ton.
Fox Hill, between Denville and Parsippany, was a grade
of almost 30 percent. It took powerful horses and oxen
to haul even a small load over the hill.
Following the discovery of iron ore all over Morris
County, forges had sprung up before the Revolution. In
a single stretch of the proposed canal between Rockaway
and Andover, a distance of 15 miles, there were 56 forges,
most of which had been forced to shut down because they
had practically exhausted the local supply of wood fuel.
402
THE MORRIS CANAL 403
Large shipments of coal through the canal would mean
the rebirth of this industry.
McCulloch's idea gained in popularity, and a bill was
introduced in the 1824 session of the New Jersey Legisla-
ture in an attempt to obtain State funds for building the
canal. The legislature did nothing about it. The canal
backers, however, got a charter authorizing them to build
a canal with private funds, if the money could be raised.
Under the name of the Morris Canal and Banking Com-
pand the corporation was launched in a spirit of specula-
tive enthusiasm. The charter was so liberal that it per-
mitted the company to issue its own currency. Years later
the company was forced into bankruptcy as a result of
the privileges which seemed so desirable when it began.
The original charter provided for a capital stock of
$2,500,000. The right to condemn land for canal pur-
poses was granted. The State retained the right to take
over the canal at a fair valuation after 99 years or to
extend the charter 50 years, after which ownership would
pass to the State without payment. Another provision
granted the heirs of the original owners the right to re-
possess the land that they had given or sold in case the
canal was abandoned. Some of the land was given out-
right. Some was bought for the nominal sum of 6^ an
acre, and some was seized without due process of law.
Interest in the Morris Canal and great expectations for
its money-making possibilities were stimulated by the suc-
cess of the Erie Canal in New York, completed in 1825.
But the New Jersey route offered serious obstacles for
the engineers. In order to traverse the 55 miles from the
Hudson to the Delaware the canal would have to wind
for almost twice that distance through the hills, climb to
THE MORRIS CANAL
LOCKS AT DENVILLE
AS THEY LOOKED
WHEN THE CANAL
WAS IN OPERATION
a height of 1,000 feet, and descend more than 700 feet
over the humpbacked ridge of New Jersey.
The only solution was to build planes, or inclined tracks,
connecting one level of water with another. A boat was
floated onto a cradle that ran under the water on tracks.
When the boat had settled securely on the cradle, both
were dragged uphill by chains wound on drums. Power
was supplied by the overflow of water from the upper
to the lower levels. When the cradle reached the top it
was run into a lock; water was admitted, and the boat
floated off the cradle again. From there the boat proceeded
by mule power to the next plane, where the operation
was repeated. In this way the boats were literally carried
over the mountains. For gentler changes in elevation, ordi-
nary locks were used without planes. When the canal was
completed it had 23 planes and 23 locks.
Construction of the Morris Canal began in 1825, soon
THE CANAL
CROSSES THE PAS-
SAIC RIVER ON AN
AQUEDUCT
after the first money had been raised. Six years later the
waterway was opened to traffic between Newark and Phil-
lipsburg. Hand labor was the backbone of the construction
job. Concrete, as used today, was unknown. All masonry
had to be of stone construction, held together by lime
mortar. There were no compressed-air drills or dynamite,
no steam shovels or motor trucks, no iron girders or "I"
beams. A working day was from sunrise to sunset. The
wages were 90 cents a day or even less.
Rocks were blasted by drilling holes with hand drills
and then filling the holes with black powder. After tamp-
ing them with clay and dropping a glowing coal on the
clay, the blaster ran for cover. Practically every foot of
earth and stone was removed from the canal excavation
by hand. Even wheelbarrows were scarce. Horses and
oxen were needed for farm work and were grudgingly
loaned or leased for canal construction.
The organizers of the canal company, more interested
in the project as a stock-selling proposition than as a use-
ful enterprise, were short-sighted in making their plans.
The canal was built only 52 feet wide at the top, 20 feet
406 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
wide at the bottom and 4 feet deep. Compared with the
other canals of that day, it was far too small. The 7O-ton
barges in use on the Lehigh Canal in Pennsylvania were
too large for the new canal. This meant that the coal,
instead of being carried direct from the mines in Penn-
sylvania, had to be transferred from the large boats to
smaller ones carrying only 25 tons.
Although the canal was designed primarily for com-
merce, people were so delighted with the picturesque
waterway that a packet boat drawn by three horses made
daily excursions between Newark and Paterson. Fares
were 25^ to Bloomfield and 50^ to Passaic. This was a
favorite holiday trip for Newarkers.
From Phillipsburg on the Delaware, opposite Easton,
the canal ascended Pohatcong Mountain, came down again,
and idled past Port Murray, Rockport and Hackettstown.
Passing Saxton Falls, it edged along Sussex County at
Waterloo and Stanhope and then touched Lake Hopat-
cong, its water source, and came into Morris County. Here
it made a snakelike way to the east, passing Morris Land-
ing, Kenvil, Wharton, Dover, Rockaway, Boonton, To-
waco, Mountain View. At Little Falls it crossed the Pas-
saic River in a wooden aqueduct, finally turning southward
through Belleville and Newark to Newark Bay.
The inclined planes, which had delighted visiting leg-
islators and other observers when they were first tested,
sometimes provided unexpected thrills. Upon one occa-
sion a car carrying the barge Electa was beginning the
descent of the Boonton plane when the sprocket chain
broke. Laden with iron, the boat tore down the track at
terrific speed, striking the water at the bottom with such
force that it ricocheted over a 2O-foot embankment into
THE MORRIS CANAL 407
a clump of trees. The captain's wife, extricating her-
self from the branches, "allowed" she had come down
pretty fast, but thought "that was the way the thing
worked." After more serious accidents, hemp ropes were
substituted for chains, and damage to boats, canal equip-
ment and human beings was somewhat reduced. Eventu-
ally the hemp ropes were replaced by wire cables.
Although it was doomed to financial failure and decay,
the new waterway brought prosperity to the adjoining
country during its comparatively brief existence. Before
the barges came with coal from the Pennsylvania mines,
Boonton was a village with grass-grown streets. It sprang
into life with a blast furnace, four forges and a mill for
manufacturing iron sheets. The machinery and expert
workers were brought from England, and soon 200 peo-
ple were employed by the East Jersey Iron Manufactur-
ing Co. Forges and iron works flourished throughout the
northern part of the State. Little towns such as Port Mur-
ray, Port Golden, Pequannock, Pompton and Rockaway
were developed. The canal proved an industrial godsend
to Newark, where factories eagerly awaited cheap coal.
The city doubled its population between 1830 and 1835.
In 1836 there was a wave of national prosperity; Mor-
ris Canal stock, which had sold at 32 in 1834, rose to 188
in a year. The dirctors purchased $6,000,000 worth of
improvement bonds of Indiana and Michigan, then young
and struggling States. After selling these to the public,
some of the money was used to extend the Morris Canal
to Jersey City, but most of it was dissipated. Then the
canal was mortgaged for nearly $1,000,000, but the stock-
holders' interests were not protected. The company went
bankrupt and thousands of investors lost everything.
408 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
Out of the proceedings, however, came a reorganized
canal company. In 1844 tne cana l was enlarged, enabling
the heavier Lehigh boats to come directly from the mines
through the Lehigh Canal, across the Delaware and
through the Morris Canal. These were made in two sec-
tions hinged together, to enable them to pass up and over
the steep inclines of the planes. From then on the canal
begun to prosper. At the peak of its prosperity in 1866
there were as many as 1,200 boats in operation, an aver-
age of 12 boats a mile.
But the reorganization came too late. Whereas the
usual time for the trip between Phillipsburg and Jersey
City was five days, railroads were now able to haul coal
between the two points in eight hours. Each car, carry-
ing almost as much as a canal boat, continued to draw
tighter and tighter the noose that was slowly but surely
choking life from the canal.
Besides the railroad competition, which alone was
enough to kill the canal traffic, there were other forces
at work. The canal basin in Jersey City had become enor-
mously valuable for other purposes. The Lehigh Valley
Railroad, which had leased the canal in 1871, had found
it a burden to carry. The revenue was not sufficient to
pay for the upkeep, but under the terms of the lease the
railroad company was obliged to keep the canal navigable.
When traffic had dwindled to little or nothing the com-
pany demanded that the State take over the property.
This was in 1903. Finally no craft were seen along the
quiet waterway except a few canoes or motorboats on
pleasure voyages to and from Lake Hopatcong.
Probably the most insistent demand for abandonment
came from Hudson Maxim, one of the inventors of smoke-
THE MORRIS CANAL 409
less powder, who owned many hundreds of acres at Lake
Hopatcong, the primary source of water for the canal.
Under the charter the canal company had been permitted
to construct a 6-foot dam to hold the water of the lake
in time of flood and heavy rainfall, thus ensuring a suffi-
cient supply for operation in abnormally dry seasons. As
a result the surface area of the lake, already the largest
in New Jersey, was more than doubled in size. But if, as
permitted by law, this 6-foot supply was drawn off, parts
of Lake Hopatcong would become a mudflat, reeking
with decaying vegetation.
While it was conceded that the canal was worthless for
transportation and that in the cities the sluggish waters
were a menace to health, there were many who fought
strenuously to preserve its rural sections as beauty spots.
The Morris Canal Parkway Association was formed to
champion the cause of the derelict. It was not concerned
with the sections of the canal that ran through cities. The
members were willing to compromise with Maxim and
guarantee that only the overflow waters of Lake Hopat-
cong would be used. They pointed out that with the dis-
continuance of canal boat traffic the enormous amount of
water needed to work the locks and planes would be saved.
But the State Assemblymen, in whose hands the fate
of the canal rested in 1924, thought otherwise. During
the countless hearings that took place they heard the old
canal referred to as "an open sewer" and "a man-made
octopus sapping northern New Jersey of its water." And
so it was that the old Morris Canal, doomed from its
birth, was finally abandoned officially.
The canal is now dead, a dried ditch, its towpaths over-
grown with brush and weeds, its locks, planes and bridges
41 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
obliterated. Only here and there remain shallow stretches
of stagnant water.
There are many who remember it in its day of good
service when tired mules tugged and pulled the clumsy
barges j when man and beast rested while a spinning water
wheel dragged the boat and cargo uphill to the next level j
when the air resounded with shouts and cracking whips.
Mules were driven not by lines but by shouted com-
mands. "Gee" meant go to the right, "Haw," left. Those
words were and are still used in driving oxen. But an-
other, doubtless of French origin, "petitwhoa," meant, in
mule, not to "whoa" at all but to "dig in your toes." This
was used when a boat loaded with 70 tons of coal or ore
had to be started out of a lock. A too sudden surge or
yank would break the towline. This would have meant an
outburst of profanity and possibly a beating with the huge
blacksnake whip that the driver always carried. So the
mules soon learned that "petitwhoa" meant just that
"whoa, a little."
When an old mule had outlived his usefulness, he went
to his reward. He was led to the nearest canal-mule ceme-
tery, knocked over the head with the dull end of an axe
and buried in a shallow grave. One of these canal-mule
burying grounds is a part of the seventh hole of Rock-
away River Golf Course at Denville.
Canal boats had to be steered, otherwise they would
run "spang" into the bank as the mules towed them along.
The boatman, usually the captain, did the steering while
his hand drove the mules.
One of the few pieces of poetry originating on the Mor-
ris Canal was sung to the tune of Climbing Up the Golden
Stairs. A verse went something like this:
THE MORRIS CANAL 411
Old Bill Miller
Ridin' on the tiller
Steering 'round the Browertown Bend;
Old Davy Ross
With a ten dollar hoss
Comin' up the Pompton Plane.
The "canaller's" life was a sort of gypsy, vagabond ex-
istence, out in the open with little hard work. When it
once got into a man's blood it stayed with him. There are
many cases where "canalling" was the chosen occupation
of entire families through generations.
The number of people who sometimes lived in a small
boat cabin was almost unbelievable. There were no toilet
accommodations of any kind. Bathing was done with a
tin basin on deck. When washday came the clothes were
strung from the towline posts.
Aside from the boatmen, the workmen were mostly
lock tenders, plane tenders and towpath walkers. The last
were just what the name implies. They walked the tow-
paths, covering a beat of from 6 to 10 miles, on a sharp
lookout for possible leaks which might flood an entire
area. The chief enemies of the towpath walker were musk-
rats who burrowed into the banks to make their nests. A
colony would almost honeycomb a bank in a few days if
not prevented.
In Newark there are several living reminders of the
waterway. Plane Street is the site of one of the planes
on the canal. On Orange Street, just below First Street,
is one of the old drums used to pull the boats up the rise
and over Orange Street. The Newark subway is built on
the old canal bed where it ran under Broad Street between
the old post ofEce and Kresge's Department Store and
412 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
under the old Center Market, as far as Mulberry Street.
Here the boatmen were forced to pole the barges through
the dark, damp tunnel, ill smelling and alive with rats.
Near Waterloo, in Sussex County, there is a small section
preserved by the State, the only part of the 109 miles
that is still usable.
ROUTE OF
MORRIS CANAL
THE LINCOLN TUNNEL
The Lincoln Tunnel, latest vehicular traffic link be-
tween New York and New Jersey, is buried 20 feet or
more under the mud bed of Hudson River. Built in four
years by the Port of New York Authority, at a cost for
the south tube of about $45,000,000 and 15 lives, the
Lincoln Tunnel provides direct access from Weehawken,
New Jersey, to 39th Street, Manhattan, lessening the
congestion of the Holland Tunnel in rush hours and the
necessity of traveling the crowded downtown area of New
York City. It will connect by means of Manhattan's non-
parking crosstown streets with the New York-Queens
Midtown Tunnel now being constructed under the East
River to form a direct route from New Jersey to Long
Island. Completion of the twin or north tube has been
deferred, and meantime the south tube is operated on a
two-way traffic basis.
It must have been close to this spot that Colonel John
Stevens, the Hoboken inventor and engineer, planned to
lay his vehicular tunnel under the Hudson in 1806. But
the site and the idea are the only similarities. The iron
and concrete of the Lincoln Tunnel do not bear much
relationship to the wooden tube that John Stevens pro-
posed to lay on the Hudson River bed. The colonel drew
plans for a tunnel with an eight-foot diameter to be con-
structed in sections and sunk to the river bottom. He even
took depth soundings to show that his project would not
interfere with river shipping. One thing he did not count
413
41 4 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
on: the difficulty of getting American capitalists to invest
in so novel and fantastic a scheme. He never got the
money.
Technical advances made a tunnel beneath the Hudson
a reality in 1908 when the Morton Street tubes of the
Hudson and Manhattan Railroad were put into service.
The facilities for individual vehicles, which John Stevens
dreamed of, were not provided, however, until 1927,
when the Holland Tunnel was finished.
The Lincoln Tunnel was projected shortly after com-
pletion of the Holland Tunnel, but because of the 1929
crash construction was postponed until the Federal Gov-
ernment came to the Port Authority's aid with a loan of
$37,500,000 on September i, 1933. A loan of $26,000,000
was made available four years later. All Federal advances
subsequently were repaid. The Government also provided
outright grants of $4,700,000 to construct certain west-
ward extensions of the approaches, and $3,100,000 to be
applied to labor cost.
Early in the spring of 1934 a shaft 30 by 40 feet was
dug 55 feet deep at the base of the Palisades. At the bot-
tom of the shaft the 4OO-ton "shield" was constructed,
and the actual work of boring the tunnel began. The
shield, a British invention first used in a simple form in
1825, is substantially a large steel pipe with a sharp edge
at the front to cut through the earth. A short distance
behind this cutting edge is a heavily braced steel bulkhead
with openings which can be closed when necessary. Inside
this "pipe" and protected by the bulkhead the men work.
As the shield was shoved forward by a ring of 28 hy-
draulic jacks operating under a pressure which could be
raised to as much as 8,000 pounds per square inch, the
THE LINCOLN TUNNEL 415
tunnel builders, or "sandhogs," put together cast-iron and
steel rings which form the skeleton of the tunnel.
Each of the rings, two and one-half feet wide and 31
feet in outside diameter, is composed of 14 segments and
a key piece. The sections were lifted into place by a giant
mechanical arm called an erector, and bolted together by
a newly invented hydraulic wrench which permitted con-
struction of 45 feet of tunnel shell in one day. The pre-
vious record had been 24 feet.
The work of constructing these rings went on inside
the shield, which fitted like a thimble over the first sev-
eral feet of the tunnel. Where passing through rock at
each end of the tunnel, the space between the outside of
the tunnel rings and the rock was filled with cement and
sand forced through holes in the segments under 90
pounds of pressure. This is known as "grouting" and
serves to protect the tunnel by filling the voids.
Operations were started in solid ground at each side
of the river. Here solid rock was encountered, which the
Courtesy N. Y. Port Authority
CHART OF TUNNELING OPERATION
41 6 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
men had to blast away. As the work progressed, test holes
were drilled diagonally upward so that the point at which
soft ground began could be determined. Once water-bear-
ing material was reached, a concrete bulkhead, 10 feet
thick, was built so that the forward part of the tunnel
could be sealed airtight to allow the use of compressed air.
Now began the most dangerous part of the work. Erec-
tion of the tunnel rings proceeded in the same manner,
but under entirely different conditions. Air under pressure
was forced into the area in front of the concrete bulkhead
to counteract the inward pressure of the water and the
river mud. Instead of solid rock, the shield now encoun-
tered soft mud through which it could force its way
without blasting. All the front openings of the shield ex-
cept two were sealed, and these were equipped with hy-
draulically operated steel doors which could be opened
to allow silt to ooze into the tube. Some of the silt was
retained in the tunnel as ballast j the rest was removed
by small cars such as are used in mines. The mud ballast
deposited along the floor served to weigh the tunnel down
until it was ready for concreting.
In general, there was a tendency for the tube to rise,
because the weight of the hollow, air-filled shell was less
than the weight of the greenish-gray mud which it dis-
placed. For the same reason, an empty milk bottle will
spring to the surface once the weight which keeps it un-
der water is removed.
The driving of the shield along its intended line was
directed by the engineers, and its position constantly
checked by precise survey methods. Any tendency of the
shield to deviate from its true course was corrected by
applying the force of the jacks unequally to bring it back
to its true course.
THE LINCOLN TUNNEL 417
A finished tunnel passing (as does this one) through
Hudson River silt has been found to move imperceptibly
with the tides of the river and with the changing seasons.
In the case of a previously built tunnel, the rise and fall
with the tide was found to be only one-eighth of an inch,
each year it rises and falls one-quarter of an inch. Over
a period of years the structure also settled slightly. No
such figures are yet available for the Lincoln Tunnel.
Compared with the George Washington Bridge, the deck
of which is 6 feet lower in hot weather than in cold, the
tunnel movement is inconsequential.
In the confined tube, sweating in the high temperature
and constantly exposed to threats of explosion and inunda-
tion, the sandhogs worked under air pressures that ranged
between 8 and 45 pounds above normal. They were not
allowed to smoke because of the danger of fire; in the
higher pressures they could not whistle because the com-
pressed air was too heavy to put into vibration. Air pres-
sure was the tyrant which ruled their work; it determined
their wages and working hours, protected them against
flood or threatened them with illness and fire.
The hours and pay for these "human moles" are regu-
lated by the amount of pressure under which they work.
Up to 1 8 pounds of pressure, they receive a minimum of
$10 for an eight-hour day. The wages increase and the
number of hours they may work decreases until a man gets
a minimum of $13 for a day consisting of two periods,
each of one-half hour, at 48 to 50 pounds of pressure.
Unless great care is taken, the change from compressed
air to normal air pressure causes a painful and dangerous
illness known as caisson disease or the "bends." The nitro-
gen forming part of the air breathed in while under com-
pression is not freed immediately when pressure is re-
41 8 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
moved but, for a time, remains in the blood stream and
tissues. When the individual returns suddenly to a nor-
mal atmosphere, the internal pressure of the compressed
nitrogen is not counterbalanced by an external pressure,
hence it forms gas bubbles that cause agonizing pains in
the joints of the body, distention of the heart and loss of
the sense of balance. In extreme cases it may even cause
death.
To guard against this disease, the sandhogs enter and
leave the tunnel through large boilerlike tanks or air-
locks which are built in the concrete bulkhead. There were
four such locks in the Lincoln Tunnel bulkhead two for
men and two for materials. The locks are equipped to in-
crease or decrease the air pressure gradually.
Shifts of 20 to 30 men, on entering the tunnel, stay in
the airlock only a few minutes until the pressure equals
that in the working area. When they leave, they are re-
quired to remain in the lock for a period which depends
upon the working pressure and ranges up to 50 minutes,
so that the body has ample time to lose all the high-
pressure nitrogen. Sandhogs must be served coffee on
reaching a normal atmosphere.
A newspaper reporter once went down into a tunnel to
observe operations and carried with him a bottle of whisky.
While there, he took a drink and recapped the bottle.
Later, in the airlock as the air pressure was being reduced,
the bottle exploded. The high air pressure in the partly
empty bottle had enough power to shatter the glass when
the external pressure did not offer resistance. This is an
exaggerated example of what happens to sandhogs with
the bends.
Although cases of the bends have been greatly reduced
today, the Lincoln Tunnel diggers had to wear badges
THE LINCOLN TUNNEL 419
bearing the notice: "Compressed air employee. If ill rush
by ambulance to hospital lock at 38th Street and Eleventh
Avenue or south of Pier K at Hudson River, Wee-
hawken."
At one period during the progress of the work, in 25
working days 1,040 feet, or approximately one-fourth of
the underriver section of the tunnel, was bored. This was
a record in underwater tunneling. At the start, however,
progress was much slower because of the rock. At times
the upper part of the shield was cutting through muck
while the lower part encountered rock. In this area it was
particularly necessary to drill for a distance in front of
the shield to discover soft spots. If the shield should cut
into the soft spot unexpectedly, the compressed air might
force its way through to the surface, allowing the water
and muck to enter the tunnel and, incidentally, causing a
violent disturbance in the water above. This is known as
a "blow."
The two sections of the tunnel were to meet at the
New York wharf line. A huge steel box, 52 by 45 by 100
feet, with cutting edges along its open bottom, was low-
ered into the river. The sandhogs worked in the bottom
of this caisson in pressures up to 45 pounds and high tem-
peratures, digging out the muck and rock. As they dug,
the caisson sank while the air pressure kept out the river.
In December 1934, after six months of work, the caisson
was brought down to final position at a depth of 100 feet,
the bottom paved with concrete and the compressed air
removed. The structure awaited the shields approaching
from either side. On August 2, 1935, about a year and
a half after digging had begun, the first tube of the Lin-
coln Tunnel was "holed through." The shields, which had
finished their job, were taken apart, and the two sections
42O STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
met inside the caisson, the centers within one-quarter of
an inch of each other!
When the two sections of the 8,21 5-foot tube had been
joined, the bulkheads and compressed air were no longer
necessary. The interior was lined with 16 inches of con-
crete and faced with tile, the brick roadway (21^2 feet
wide) was laid, and telephone, telegraph, electricity and
ventilating systems were installed. The caisson, concreted
permanently in place, served as the foundation for one
of the ventilating plants; the others were built at the
shafts in Manhattan and Weehawken, where the work
began.
The white tiled walls with blue borders went up, and
the ceiling of glass tiles, stippled to reduce glare from
lights, was placed. This is the largest glass ceiling in the
world. If one man alone could have built the Lincoln
Tunnel, he would have had to work more than 720 years.
If he could also have manufactured and transported all
the materials, he would have spent an additional 17 cen-
turies! Fifty thousand tons of iron and steel alone were
used for the tunnel skeleton, which was fastened together
with 346,000 bolts, each weighing 10 pounds with nuts
and washers.
Ex-President Herbert Hoover was present at the cere-
monies in the tunnel on October 15, 1937, to celebrate its
completion. The formal dedication took place the follow-
ing December 21 in the presence of Governors Herbert
Lehman of New York and Harold Hoffman of New Jer-
sey, Mayor Fiorello La Guardia of New York City and
Secretary of the Interior Harold Ickes.
Meanwhile, work had begun on the second tube of the
tunnel, which was holed through in the spring of 1938.
At that time the Port of New York Authority decided to
THE LINCOLN TUNNEL 421
postpone completion of the second tube until connecting
links with New Jersey's major highways had been fin-
ished. The north tube, like the one already in use, will
measure 4,600 feet under the river, but will be only 7,400
feet from portal to portal.
The ventilation system, which in gerjeral follows the
plan developed for the Holland Tunnel, changes the air
in the tunnel completely every one and one-half minutes.
The intakes are spaced along the curbs near the tunnel
floor j the vitiated air, lighter than the fresh air because
of the presence of the heated gases of automobile exhausts,
rises and is sucked out through ducts placed about 1 5 feet
apart along the ceiling. The system is so planned that
even if a considerable number of the 32 gigantic fans
which keep the air flow regular were to break down, traffic
could continue uninterrupted.
Traffic in the tunnel is planned and controlled with the
same care. Vehicles with Diesel engines, trucks carrying
gasoline and explosives, or any vehicle over five tons with
a speed less than 20 miles per hour are forbidden. Service
trucks maintained by the Port of New York Authority
make necessary tire repairs and provide towing facilities
free of charge. The~policemen on duty alternate two hours
in the tunnel and two hours on the plaza to keep the
cars spaced 75 feet apart and moving steadily at 30 miles
an hour.
In addition to the Lincoln Tunnel, the Port of New
York Authority owns and operates the Holland Tunnel,
George Washington Bridge, Bayonne Bridge, Goethals
Bridge, Outerbridge Crossing and the Port Authority
Commerce Building. Created in 1921 by an agreement
between New York and New Jersey with the approval of
Congress, the Authority is a nonprofit public agency, the
422 STORIES OF NEW JERSEY
purpose of which is to develop the Port of New York
area the commercial, industrial and financial center of the
Nation. The 12 commissioners, six from each State, are
appointed for a six-year period. They serve without pay.
The Port Authority obtains its funds by borrowing on
its credit. It sells bonds, which are promises to pay a cer-
tain amount of money with interest. Those who buy the
bonds do so because they believe that the Port Authority
will be able to pay back this money with its income from
the revenues collected from its facilities. In this the Port
Authority is unlike other government agencies, which are
supported by taxes. By the Port Authority method, the
various facilities are paid for by those who use them. Resi-
dents of New Jersey and New York who do not use the
tunnels or bridges therefore do not contribute one cent
to their support.
Motor traffic over the Hudson doubled between 1925
and 1931, when 26,000,000 vehicles crossed the river.
Some estimates indicate that within the next 25 years
280,000 vehicles will travel across the Hudson daily. The
Lincoln Tunnel is the latest step in planning for this
future.
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