Home Room Teachers 1949

Here's a bit of nostalgia and trivia for the oldtimers in town. I have come across a list of the home room teacher assignments at the high school for 1949 and I thought it might be fun to share it. Some of those teachers were still there when I graduated in '62 ! You may see some familiar names here if went to BHS anytime during the '50s or ''60s.

The principal was Mr. Kittle. He had been a member of the staff since 1928. However, in November of 1942, he became Navy Lieutenant Hugh D. Kittle, taking leave from his post at the high school to serve in the military during WWII. His temporary replacement was Harold Dufford. Mr. Kittle's last year as principal of BHS was my first year. I remember him as a good man, admired and respected by all of the students.

Here's the list -

Freshmen Home Rooms
7 Mr. Spotts
8 Mr. Lees
9 Mrs. E. Hutchinson
10 Mrs. Denison
111 Mr. Babb
112 Mrs. O. Hutchinson
113 Miss Weidman
114 Mr. Gabry
117 Mr. Diehl
Cafe A Mrs. Brown
Cafe B Mr. Smith

Sophomore Home Rooms
210 Miss Maffeo
211 Miss McDonald
102 Mrs. Kapp
103 Mr. Chiara
104 Miss Hollberg
107 Mr. Brennan
108 Miss Deininger
109 Mrs. Siegel
110 Mr. Grossman

Junior Home Rooms
311 Miss Andree
203 Mrs. Emick
204 Mr. Adams
205 Mr. Chapman
206 Miss Nelson
208 Mr. Gialanella
209 Miss Dye

Senior Home Rooms
302 Miss Sanford
303 Mr. Beha
304 Mr. Brown
306 Mr. Wilcox
307 Mr. Correll
308 Miss Gray
309 Mrs. Snedeker

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Proclamation :

Your author-here-present was recently summoned before the Mayor and Town Council to receive a Proclamation recognizing work done to preserve our town's history. For that I give my sincere thanks. I feel deeply honored to receive such an acknowledgement. It is gratifying to know that the Council finds some value in my efforts.

Secondriver.blogspot.com, now well past ten thousand visitors, shows us that our community's long and colorful history is of interest far beyond our town borders. A large percentage of visitors come from throughout New Jersey, an even larger percentage come from throughout the United States and a significant number are from outside of the U.S. We do not live in a dark, unnoticed corner of the world, we are at center stage. The world is interested in what has happened here in decades and centuries past and is watching to see what history we will create next. We can be quite proud of our heritage.

The Old Town Miser

There are certain squeaking, creaking sounds that will transport an old-timer back to his childhood in an instant. Take for example the squeak-squeak-bang of the old back porch screen door opening and closing on its rusty old spring hinges or, the squeal-squeak, squeal-squeak of the next door neighbors clothes line being reeled in ... ah yes, shades of 1950. But there are other squeaking noises which can electrify your spine and raise the hair on the back of your neck.

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When you are out and about on Halloween or on All Saints Day this year, keep an ear tuned for a queer sort of sound, the chilling sound of a certain squeaky wheel that can be heard here in the village. The wheel is attached to a rickety old wheelbarrow. The wheelbarrow belongs to the musty old town miser. Perhaps it wouldn't squeak so if the old skinflint oiled it once in a while, but far be it from him to pay the cost for a drop of oil to make it quiet. What makes the sound so queer is that the old miser hasn't been around much since he passed on some time after the late 1850's, yet this squeak-a-squeak still echoes here and there on our streets. What really draws your attention to the squeaky, creaky, rattling old wheelbarrow is how it is often accompanied by the somber voice of the old Dutch Aanspreker and his companion, the Huilebalk. Now that needs a bit of explaining, especially for the benefit of the younger generation who are unaware of how things used to be here in the village.

The Aanspreker was a sort of undertaker in the old Dutch village and one of his duties was to go from house to house to announce the passing of a villager. "Please, ma'am, the baker's compliments, and he's dead." Such message would be followed by the time and place of interment and then the weeping and wailing of the Huilebalk, a professional mourner who would follow the Aanspeker on his rounds to ensure the proper sentiment was established.

Now, the oddity of it all came about at the time of the passing of the old miser's wife. The truth of it was that he was not a poor man, on the contrary, he was rather well-to-do, but he was known to be frugal to what some folks thought was an extreme. He was so universally referred to as "The Old Miser" along with some colorful metaphors, that his actual name has been lost to us. On this sad occasion in his life, he still had the presence of mind to save the usual costs of a funeral by serving himself in the customary capacities. He hefted his late wife into his old wheelbarrow and while playing the roll of Aanspeker, Huilebalk, and poll bearers, hauled her to her resting place. He had not been well loved by the townfolks to begin with and this remarkable spectacle did nothing to enhance his standing in the community.

At a later time, when it was his own time to cross the great divide, the occurrence of it went so unnoticed in the village that no record of it can be found, no doubt to save the cost of keeping such record. However there are those on the other side who take notice of aberrant mortal behavior and who assign appropriate corrective tasks to those new arrivals who seem in need of them. Thus it was given to the Old Miser to push his rickety, squeaking old wheelbarrow about the streets of the village for all time and to invite, with all proper courtesies, those who may appear about ready, to ride in the barrow to their final place. And so it is that the sound of old, squeaky wheels are not well received hereabouts.

The original teller of this tale, the Reverend Thomas DeWitt Talmage of the old Dutch Church, had still another anecdote to relate to us about this character from our village saga. Here it is in his own words -

"I was ready for him when one morning he called at the parsonage. As he entered he began by saying: “I came in to say that I don’t like you.” “Well,” I said, “that is a strange coincidence, for I cannot bear the sight of you. I hear that you are the meanest man in town and that your neighbors despise you.”

Notwithstanding this spirited meeting, the man eventually became a great friend of the young pastor. Eventually he even asked Talmage to officiate when he decided to take onto himself a new wife.

Talmage goes on - "The entire town was awake that night. They had somehow heard that this economist at obsequies was to be remarried. While I was inside the house trying, under adverse circumstances, to make the twain one flesh, there were outside demonstrations most extraordinary, and all in consideration of what the bridegroom had been to the community. Horns, trumpets, accordions, fiddles, firecrackers, tin pans, howls, screeches, huzzas, halloo, missiles striking the front door and bedlam let loose! Matters grew worse as the night advanced, until town authorities read the riot act, and caused the only cannon belonging to the village (a Revolutionary War relic) to be hauled out on the street and loaded, threatening death to the mob if they did not disperse. Glad am I to say that it was only a farce and no tragedy."
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Be that as it may, there are still those who know about the Old Miser and dread the sound of that squeak-a-squeak for fear that it might be following them to offer them a ride to that other place. Indeed, if you hear the squeak 'n creak 'n rattle of the barrow accompanied by the voice of the Aanspreker and the wails and moans of the Huilebalk on this Halloween, you may be in trouble. Do not look to see who it is. Definitely do not offer to oil the wheel. And it is best to not ask for whom the wheel squeaks ... just turn and run.

Second River's War

There is a time-honored saying, one deeply rooted in our culture. For nigh unto 2,500 years we are told that - "The pen is mightier than the sword." First recorded in history before 406 B.C., the Greek poet Euripides said "The tongue is mightier than the blade." Another bard of towering stature, William Shakespeare, phrased it thus, "... many wearing rapiers are afraid of goosequills." More recently, and probably the best known version came in 1839 from the pen of playwright Edward Bulwer-Lytton who wrote, "Beneath the rule of men entirely great, the pen is mightier than the sword." The truth of this ancient adage is essential to understanding the role of Second River in the American Revolution.

When evaluating Second River's role in the Revolution, three things should be kept in mind -

1) That the goal of the Revolution was to throw off the European domination of America.
2) That the Reformed Church was the religion of a major part of the population in the wealthy Dutch colonies of New York and New Jersey.
3) That the greater part of the war was fought in New York and New Jersey.

As it was, England was the tax collector and Holland dictated all religious matters in these prosperous mid-Atlantic colonies.

History books tend to favor the sword over the pen. Flashing blades are dramatic. Most high school level history books will tell you that the American Revolutionary War began in and around Boston because the first acts of violence occurred there. If violence is the criteria which defines revolution, then Boston deserves all of the credit. However, if a man with a sharp pen and a loud voice demanding freedom defines revolution, then the American Revolution began here. If one looks to when pen and voice were first raised in revolt against European masters in our country, then it is a documented truism that the American Revolution began here in the Village of Second River, the American Revolution began here in the Dutch Reformed Church on Main Street, the American Revolution began here in the person of the Rev. Gerardus Haughoort.

As a life-long resident of this village, I find the good Reverend Haughoort the kind of folk hero with whom I can readily identify. God-fearing, hard-kicking, tenacious as a bulldog, the good Reverend was a visionary, a revolutionary but perhaps not a diplomat. The correspondences from the American to the European Churches are replete with apologies attempting to play down his colorful words and feisty actions. I like him. He was a pious man but not too saintly. Hot-headed, short-tempered, he was 'pure Belleville' in spirit. Never-the-less, he was an eloquent persuader of men.

Educated in Holland and commissioned to work in the American colonies, he was first sent to Freehold, NJ. Word of his impressive talent spread quickly. At the request of Col. John Schuyler and other prominent families of the village, in 1735, he came to Second River. Glad to be here and filled with political ambitions, within two years, Rev. Haughhoort was deeply involved in the politics of the time. Through him, the Village of Second River was thrust onto center stage in the political arena. He had adjusted quickly to his new life in the colonies. He formed the opinion, the radical notion, the revolutionary idea, that those living in the colonies ought to be able to attend to their own affairs and not have to answer to European authorities for every detail of day-to-day life. A forceful speaker and skillful writer with convincing ways, he soon had a following among prominent leaders from Monmouth County to New York City and up through the Hudson Valley. It was the beginning of a decades-long struggle for freedom and independence. At times it cost him dearly. He had alienated his patron, Col. Schuyler, to the point where, for a time, his own church doors were barred to him and he had to preach to his flock from the steps outside of the church. But he was a determined, never-give-in sort of fellow. He battled on. Victory came in 1771. In an action that served as an early Declaration of Independence, the leadership of the American Church formed an organization that would thenceforth be their governing body. It was done. The first step in freeing America from Europe was taken. The concept was electrifying the colonies. If the European Church masters could be set aside, how difficult could it be to dispense with the English tax collectors ? Not long afterwards, buoyed by the actions of the middle colonies and incensed by increased taxation, there was a certain tea party in a place called Boston.

The good Reverend Gerardus Haughoort saw the completion of this first phase of the revolution, but only the beginning of the armed revolution which followed. He passed to his reward in 1776. The Revolutionary War to free America from outside domination, begun with his pen and tongue, would end with flashing blades.

Reverend Haughoort's remains are interred inside the old Dutch Church, here in Second River, from whence his spirit watches as we enjoy our freedom. We of the current generation are the custodians of a sacred icon. We must be mindful that we safeguard what has been entrusted to us that it can be handed down to the next generation so that all can know what transpired here in Second River; Belleville, New Jersey.

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Related articles :
http://secondriver.blogspot.com/2008_02_01_archive.html

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http://secondriver.blogspot.com/2008_07_01_archive.html

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http://secondriver.blogspot.com/2009/07/66-patriots.html

Just A Party 2009

Our Selection for "Hostess of the Year"

What if you threw a party and thousands upon thousands of people came ... and you were responsible for feeding them a vast array of gourmet delights from many cultures, entertaining them, making their children squeal with glee and leaving them so pleased that they would sing and dance all night ? Well, for the fifth consecutive year, our selection for "Hostess of the Year", Councilwoman Marie Strumolo Burke has done just that.

Not since the golden days of Hillside Pleasure Park has it been possible to have such a good time in this old town. It is hard to say which was the best part. Was it watching the children laughing and enjoying the rides and games, or perhaps the live entertainment kicked-off by our own very talented, award winning, high school orchestra and then featuring two of the greatest doo-op groups you will ever hear and still others. Your author-here-present particularly enjoyed following the trail of aromas of the sizzling international cuisine side-by-side with old American favorites. It is best to not eat for three days before going to the party.

We are making history here. Each year the crowd gets larger, the word is out now. "Don't miss it", is the word on the street. If by some unfortunate chance, you were otherwise occupied the evening of the party, you can see a video above [click on the "start" icon to load it] and the slide show below. A viewing tip for the slide show - you can pause the display by placing your cursor over a picture and clicking on the "pause" icon. If you click on one of the small pictures to the right, it will be the next one to appear enlarged. Enjoy ! ... and hope to see you there next year.

66 Patriots

In the old Dutch church yard, here in the Village of Second River, Belleville, NJ, are buried 66 patriots from the Revolutionary War. We owe them our freedom.

The Roll Call
John Bayley
Henry Brown
Isaac Brown
John Brown
Henry Cadmus
Isaac Cadmus
John P. Cadmus
John H. Cadmus
Peter Cadmus
Lt. Col. Thomas Cadmus
James Campbell
Minard Curen
Capt. Amos Dodd
Thomas Doremus
Anthony Francisco
John Francisco
Jacob Freeland
John Garland
Garrabrant Garrabrants
John Gilliland
John Harrison
James Hornblower
Josiah Hornblower
James Jacobus
John Jacobus
Henry Jacobus
Richard Jacobus
Capt. Henry Joralemon
Helmich Joralemon
Lt. Capt. James Joralemon
Capt. John Kidney
Abram King
Aurey King
William King
John King
Isaac Kingsland
John Kingsland
John Luker
Joseph Miller
William Nixon
Ensign John Peer
Jacob Pier
Jacob Riker
Daniel Rutan
Capt. Anthony Rutgers
Gerard Rutgers
Robert Rutgers
Capt. Thomas Seigler
Capt. Abraham Speer
Capt. Cornelius Speer
Capt. Henry Speer
Francis Speer
Lt. Herman Speer
James Speer
John Speer
John Spier
Lt. John Spier Jr.
Christian Stimets
Capt. Steven Van Courtlandt
Daniel Teurs
Thomas Van Riper
Simeon Van Winkle
Michael Vreeland
Capt. Ezekial Wade
Samuel Ward
John Winne

The Belleville Stagecoach

You could hear it coming from as far away as the top of the hill in Kearny at the intersection of what today is Ridge Road and the Belleville Turnpike. First, there would be a shrill, rousing bugle call such as would stir the blood of a foxhunter in the field followed by a hearty "Hi-Ho-Halooo !" Then the hoof beats and clatter of a smart-looking coach-and-four came careening down the pike trailed by a towering cloud of dust, taking dead aim at Mr. Rutger's bridge. The ruckus of the passing of horse shoes and coach wheels over the wooden planks of the old bridge was sure to get the attention of anyone in the center of our quiet, little village. It was the Belleville Stage, fresh in from New York City. The high-spirited horses would be reigned to a halt, prancing and pawing , in front of the hotel on Main Street.

We tend to think of stagecoach travel as a thing from days of the old wild West, as a way of traveling to Tombstone or getting outa Dodge. But, from just after the Revolutionary War 'til just after the Civil War, you didn't have to go any further West than Main Street in Belleville to see a stagecoach in daily use. Service began shortly after the first bridge was built across the Passaic at Belleville in 1790 and continued 'til 1865 when railroads replaced the coaches for the trip to New York.

The coach of choice was universal, no matter if it was running on the Belleville Pike 'cross the meadowlands or on the Santa Fe Trail 'cross the desert. It was the New Hampshire-built Concord 9-passenger stagecoach. Perhaps not as comfortable as a DeCamp bus, but a lot more exciting. This 9-passenger coach generally carried 21 passengers. Hmm ... that may need some explaining. Inside, there were two facing bench seats seating 3 passengers each and a fold-down jump seat for 3 more. O.k., that's 9. But then there was the roof. When Wells Fargo used these coaches for hauling freight, the top was loaded with goods. However, on commuter runs, there were seats on the roof. 3 rows of benches each holding 3 more passengers plus another seat mounted on curved iron bars that trailed behind the roof that could "safely" hold 2 more. Since a "shotgun" rider was generally not needed between Belleville and New York, another passenger would sit next to the driver. If it was any consolation, every seat was nicely upholstered and thickly padded. Such luxury ! ... and it must have been so much fun to ride in that back seat trailing behind the roof. You couldn't have that much fun at an amusement park ! On arrival in Belleville, those passengers who had not suffered a ruptured spleen, could have dinner at Mr. William's hotel.

A stagecoach driver had to be a master horseman. He controlled a team of four horses with multiple strands of reigns arranged such that he could control each horse individually or all together with his left hand so that his right hand was free to manage the friction brake lever, whip or bugle as circumstances may require. And, of course, there were all those cranky passengers. Some say managing the horses was the easy part.

Over the years, there were a succession of owners of the stage line. Joseph Sandford started the line. Later, John Dow and John Williams were proprietors, then John Williams and Jacob Robinson. They, in turn were followed by a Mr. Tuey who sold out to T .P. Seaman. In later years, a Mr. John Grice, Thomas Farrand and a Mr. Lewis were among the various owners.

One of the more interesting stories about the owners was that of John Dow who had purchased a slave, Jake, to serve as a driver. Slave ownership was frowned upon in these parts, and examples of it are exceedingly rare in our history. But, sometimes the only way a slave could be freed was to buy him. The problem was that money had real value in those days and did not flow freely, but arrangements could be made. When Mr. Dow bought Jake, he informed him of the purchase price, telling him he would assign a value in wages to the work Jake performed. When Jake had worked long enough to pay back his purchase price, he would be set free. Jake was a faithful worker during those days and Mr. Dow was an honorable man who gave Jake his freedom as promised. Beyond that, John Dow sold to Jake his own interest in the business. Thus Jake went from slave worker to business partner in the Stagecoach Line of John Williams and Jacob Robinson.

Some of the first stagecoach robberies in our countries history occurred within our precincts. From a past town historian, Richard Shafter, we have this -

In the fall of 1812 Mynheer Van Der Planck, Holland’s minister to the United States was robbed within the boundaries of Belleville. His coach-and-six had lumbered along dark and spook-ridden Gully Road when suddenly there was a shout. Several rough-looking men jumped from the shadows, pulled the driver from his seat, invited the nervous minister into the roadway, and forced him to divest himself of his moneys and valuables with which he seems to have been rather well provided.

The night swallowed the ill-doers again without a trace, leaving the bereaved Mynheer in the middle of the road, waving his ringless fingers, stamping on his empty money bags and fuming at this insult to his august person. But his anger could not recover the loot. Nor did the efforts of the Belleville and Bloomfield authorities. Mynheer Van der Planck left Belleville disconsolate, vowing never to return.

This robbery, which narrowly escaped having international repercussions, was the second to have occurred on Gully Road. The first took place in 1793, but because the persons involved were not especially distinguished nothing but the bare fact is to be found on the records.

The two photos below are not from the Belleville collection, however, they are presented here to give the reader the look and feel of the stagecoach age. The first is a beautifully restored example of a Concord 9-passenger coach rigged for use as a freight carrier by Wells Fargo. The second is an image of a fully loaded commuter coach.

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Here, for your consideration, is a link to a collection of books by one of our regions most talented writers, Mr. Anthony Buccino, you may want to add a few of these to your Summer reading list.

Click here.

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Additional summer reading can be found here -
Timeless Tales of Adventure from AbeBooks

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Belleville's First Telephone

Style of the first telephones used in Belleville.

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As we continue to experience the year 2009, such as it is, let us pause for a moment in our various deliberations and acknowledge this year as the 130th anniversary of the first telephone here in Belleville. We were not slow to join in the technology revolution of the 1870's and 1880's.

Alexander Graham Bell patented the first telephone in 1876 (a topic of considerable debate. Today's history students may want to research Antonio Meucci and come to their own conclusions). Bell exhibited his device at the Philadelphia Centennial Exhibition of 1876 where the remarkable instrument generated such a level of interest and excitement that the Bell Telephone Co. was formed to answer the demand on the 9th of July in 1877. We have been paying telephone bills ever since. The appetite for this marvelous device was voracious. Ever so quickly, wires spread across the land, faster than a spider can weave its web. In 1878 an exchange was established in the Kinney Building at Broad and Market Streets in Newark and by early 1879, Belleville had its first telephone. This urgency to talk is all the more remarkable when one considers the priorities. Street lighting on Main Street came five years later in 1884 and public sewers around 1912; everything according to greatest need . . . well, sort of.

This first telephone, actually a pair of telephones, were installed for the Aqueduct Board, one located at the reservoir, the other at the pump house. Soon after, in the early 1880's the first public pay station was installed at the Belleville train station and then another at Osborne's Drug Store on Main Street, where Mr. Osborne, or one of his clerks, would collect the charges for each call made. The Osborne pay station became such an important communication center in town that it was necessary to hire a manager to operate it. That task went to old-time resident William Dow Holmes, former Post Master, better known to town folks as Deacon Holmes. Mr. Holmes would collect the calling charges and would answer incoming calls. If the call was urgent, he would send out a runner who would locate the person called and summon them to the phone. For less important calls, Mr. Holmes would write down the message, put it in an envelope and send out a boy to deliver it, not so very different from a telegram message.

Osborne's Drug Store was located in the "center" of Belleville's business district. At least it was the center as folks saw things back then. Using today's landmarks to find where it was, you would start in front of the old Dutch church and proceed about ten car lengths south. It was on the river side of Main Street in a large building that housed several other stores including Sanford's butcher shop, Townsend and DePuy's grocery store, Snow's candy store, Sussman's barber shop and the Post Office. The upper rooms of the building were used as Town Hall and as a Sunday School. The photos below, courtesy of the Belleville Public Library and Information Center archives, depict the store front and then the building as it appeared during the great flood of 1902. There is also a view of the building from the river.

By the turn of the century, there were 26 telephone subscribers in town. In 1900, a switchboard was installed in Osborne's Drug Store. By 1901 there were 34 residents with telephones and by 1902 there were 46.

The familiar "Number, Please", that we old-timers from the 1950's pre dial-up era remember so well when we picked up the receiver, was not yet in use. [ If you ever had a telephone number starting with BE-2, then you can count yourself as an old-timer.] To use these early phones, you would pick up the ear piece, turn a crank on the side of the wall box to "ring" the operator, then, leaning forward to speak into the mouth piece, tell the operator the name and / or address of the party you were calling. There were no telephone numbers yet. The operator would look for the party in a directory, ring the party and, if they answered, plug you in. Amusingly, the farther away the party was, the louder a person spoke. No, it wasn't necessary to speak louder, it just seemed like the right thing to do to many folks when the party being called was in another town. It took a while for folks to understand that you didn't have to shout to be heard in Nutley.

If you remember having one of those BE-2 numbers, unless you were quite well-to-do and paid for a "private" line, you most likely had a party line with a letter attached to your phone number. Your number might have been, for example, BE-2-1234J. The "J" was your party extension meaning you were one of 10 households using that same line. It would not be unusual for you to pick up your phone and, instead of hearing that terse "Number, please", you would hear one of your neighbors gossiping about who knows what. Most people were polite about it and would more-or-less quietly hang-up although there might be an occasional hostile outburst - "Would you please get off the line, you've been blabbering for twenty minutes now !" Privacy on party lines was non-existent but your phone bill was around $2 a month, affordable to most folks, so you put up with the inconvenience. How lucky we are today, although our phone bill isn't $2 anymore.

You can help commemorate this 130th year of the first telephone in Belleville if, next time you pluck your cell phone out from your pocket to answer a call, pause for just a second and reflect on how nice it is that you don't have to run down to Osborne's Drug Store to take your call.

Osborne's store front

Taken during the flood of 1902, Osborne's is on the left.

Taken during the flood of 1902. Note the telephone lines.

View from the Passaic River, the back of Osborne's is on the right.

Hillside Pleasure Park

Would you have ever imagined that Belleville was once the home of one of the largest amusement parks ever built in New Jersey ? ... larger than old Olympic Park, larger than the legendary Palisades Amusement Park ? It was known as Hillside Pleasure Park. In it's golden age, 500,000 fun-seeking folks would crowd through it's gates each year, 50,000 on most weekends. It was big, it was always crowded, it was just one of the many reasons why Belleville was such a great place to live.

Its entrance was on Washington Avenue near to the Nutley town line. I first learned about the park from old-time residents back in those long ago days when I was a youngster here in town. "Really ? ... where was it ?", I would ask with youthful curiosity. "Oh, it was about where McDonald's is today", they would explain. Hmm ... that didn't sound too impressive. You have all seen McDonald's, how much of an amusement park could fit there, I wondered. Maybe a merry-go-round and a hot dog stand ?

It was years later when I discovered to my amazement just how big this park really was. First, I found an advertisement from 1912 describing the features and attractions; it was a long, long list of both live and mechanical amusements. Wow, no way this would fit into McDonalds parking lot. Then I found a site plan of the old park. Wow, again, it was one hundred and ten acres ! To fully appreciate how large this park was, let's go for a ride around the perimeter of it using today's landmarks. We should do this in style. Let's go in an old open roadster, the kind folks would have used back when the park was in its hey-day. C'mon, button up your dust coat, climb in and pull down your goggles while I start this thing. Let's see if I remember ... turn on the magneto, open the fuel line switch, advance the fuel lever (there's no gas pedal y'know) advance the spark lever just a bit, open the hood and depress the fuel plunger a couple of times to prime the carburetor, go around front and with left hand carefully placed on the crank, give it one hard upward yank and, if the gods are smiling, it will start. Sputter, putt-putt, hang on, we're ready !

We will begin the tour on Washington Avenue in front of the now defunct Elite Ford’s showroom facing south. The driveway entrance to the used car lot was just about where the park’s main entrance was located. The picnic grove occupied most of the space that now serves as a used car lot. Just to the rear stood the food concession stands. Farther back, to the left near the property line was the Great Roller Coaster. To the right of that was the dance pavilion. Still more to the right was the razzle-dazzle and the carousel. Behind all of that was the racetrack and grandstand for harness racing which served double duty as a venue for those exciting wild west shows and a departure point for balloon ascensions. Then there was the vaudeville music hall. We proceed to Greylock Parkway and turn right. The houses fronting on Greylock Parkway were always there, the park precincts began just behind their back yards. Turn right again onto Floyd Street and continue to its end. Pause there for just a moment and listen for ancient echoes. “Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, step right up”. We are in the old midway. Turn right onto Beech Street and follow it around to Bremond Street. Part of the lake, added sometime before 1912, was here. The lake was the largest single feature on the grounds, extending for some distance from where we are now. It was used for boating with a part, closer to the front reserved for swimming. An attractive rustic wooden bridge crossed the lake at one point separating swimming from boating. We can almost hear the rag-time music pouring out from the bandstand competing with the old steam calliope sounding from the carousel. We continue on to Greylock Parkway, turn right then right again onto Bell Street. Proceed as far as Crest Drive. The ten acres around us and to the left were the menagerie, home to all manner of exotic animals. The lions were the favorite. What a fuss they made at feeding time. We continue on to the end turning left onto White Oak Terrace. Just before the turn, to our right, down where the ground is more level, is where the athletic fields for baseball and football once were. The traditional rivalry between Belleville’s and Nutley’s football teams began here.

We continue on to Union Avenue, turning right when we arrive. The woodland part of the park is to our left, stretching back to Adelaide Street. The wooded section with it's paths for moonlight strolls and trails for horseback riding was sold to developers just before WWI. Afterwards, the park ended at a stockade fence along Union Avenue. Union Avenue, which previously ended at Greylock Parkway, was now extended. As we proceed, Sunset Avenue will appear on the left. A dozen car lengths on, just as we approach the Nutley town line, we momentarily leave the precincts of the park. We continue to King Street, turning right, then right again on St. Mary’s and left onto Carmer Avenue. We are again in the park, on it’s northern edge. We proceed the full length of Carmer Avenue to Washington Avenue, turn right and, passing the bowling alley, McDonalds and the car dealer, all of which were part of the park, we return to the beginning. The park's hotel and restaurant were near to the bowling alley. The roller-skating rink was behind McDonald’s north parking lot. The roller-skating rink was still there 'til the 1960s. We have just circum-navigated old Hillside Pleasure Park. It is 1.7 miles around the circuit. Not a bad place to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Even after the great park closed its doors, this large area was designated for redevelopment as a permanent recreational facility for the towns people, ... but that's a story for another essay.

ENGLISH TEA

It's that time of year when The Friends Of The Belleville Public Library And Information Center present their annual English Tea with hostess extraordinaire, Marge Lordi. You really shouldn't miss this event, it's one of the cultural highlights of the year. Ladies, do wear your prettiest picture hat and gloves, it's that kind of affair, very stylish and delightful. Try the delicious home-made English and Welsh treats provided by Marge Lordi herself and members of the group and see a wonderful collection of proper English teapots and tea cozies. It would be a pity to not be there. Pre-registration is required. Contact the Library at 973-450-3434, or just stop in at the Library front desk to register and get your tickets. It will be held on Sunday, May 3rd at 2:00 P.M. You know it's going to be good with Marge Lordi in charge.

Here is a link to some photos from last year.

http://secondriver.blogspot.com/2008_04_01_archive.html

Tree Spirits

Visit Cherry Blossom Village

It was Professor Joseph Campbell of Sarah Lawrence College who taught us that the legends, myths and old folktales of a people are the most important part of history explaining better than wars, industries and technologies who we really are. In our village, there is an abundance of these tales making our place in history secure and our understanding of ourselves and our past clear.

Some of the old town tales are of the spooky, bone-chilling kind suitable for Halloween or for scaring children into good behavior, but there are some a bit more romantic which reveal a softer side of our village nature. There is the story of the schoolmaster and the well-to-do village lady ... oh, wait ... that was one that Mr. Irving packed in his bag and transported up the North River to that other "Sleepy Hollow". Ahh, here is one, yes, I think you will like it. It's just right for this season as the Cherry Blossoms are about to bloom -

It is believed since ancient times that each tree is a spirit; a spirit that seeks ways of expressing its own innermost nature in the outer world. Many are the legends describing these magnificent beings and the tales of those who have chanced to see what is not meant for man to see.

In the old Village of Second River, so well known for its headless horsemen, shrieking ghosts and wandering spirits, isn't it apropos that ancient village spirits should find a home among the sakura along the old mill stream. From the far-off lowlands they came in wooden sailing ships to a delightful place where a sparkling silver stream flowed into a quiet, blue river. With vigorous efforts they cleared the land, built their homes, planted their crops and fought-off the soldiers of an oppressive king to preserve their freedom. They created a place by the flowing waters which they called "The Beautiful Village". It was resplendent in Spring with flowers on rolling hills, glittering in Winter when young lads would speed-skate on the ice while pretty girl skaters would frolic in dainty pirouettes on the frozen stream. In the long course of time passing, they were gone, but their spirits returned again and again to watch over their village; the men spirits to reside in the oak trees while the ladies preferred the willows.

By the middle of the last century, events conspired ... was it the will of the spirits ?... to cause the transporting in ships from a far-off land a stunning collection of flowering cherry trees. They were planted by the mill stream in the old village. What a perfect place for feminine spirits to inhabit the trees and express their girlishness, striking pretty poses, adorned in delicate blossoms, dream-dancing the ballet of the cherry blossoms. True enough it is that the sakura look like exquisite ballerinas posing in their Spring finery. If you come to see our sakura by the rippling water and chance to see an elegant pirouette swaying in the breeze or a fine arabesque, you will know that the old village spirits have returned to live once again in their beautiful village.

There is the tale of a lad returned from the war, hard used in battle, hobbled by his wounds. He could be seen on most days walking along the path among the Cherry Blossom trees. It was soothing to him to be among them. He came in every season. The sakura were charming while in blossom but he enjoyed them as well in summer as they relaxed in the warm sun renewing their energies. Autumn was a wonder when each tree would express itself with a different color palette and all together they were dazzling. It was on a late Winter's day when the sakura were bare, the pose with which they would display their beauty in early Spring was sharply defined against the cold, blue Winter sky, when he caught a glimpse of a shadow nearly obscured by brilliant sunlight playing on snow. The sakura spirits would rather you didn't see when they step out of their sleeping trees to rehearse the Cherry Blossom Ballet in the time just before Spring, but a sharp eye on the long shadows of a late Winter afternoon will sometimes reward you with a glimpse.

The lad saw among the deep shadows a dancing figure so lovely that his heart leaped and his knees nearly buckled. You know how it is when you see that special girl for the first time. After awhile this charmingly cute village-girl spirit became aware of his gaze. Amused by his adulation, she teased him a bit by striking her prettiest poses. She held his gaze for a long time. He became lost in his vision. How could he know that she was a tree spirit three centuries older than he? He only knew she was perfect. Of course, spirits are ageless, neither young nor old, but he was a long time passing from joining her. She, too, was becoming enchanted by the noble warrior spirit she saw deep within the woebegone soldier. She determined to use her best skills to engage him 'til the time might be right. And so it was that season after season, year after year, he came to the Cherry Blossom grove to admire her. So enamored was he that he came to adore her when she blossomed, when she relaxed in the Summer sun, when she was glowing in Autumn and, best of all, when she rehearsed her ballet in late Winter. At the turn of many seasons, when the time was finally right, both the tree and the old soldier were gone. He had joined his beloved tree spirit.

Watch on a breezy Spring day, when blossom petals are swirling all around you, if your heart is light, you can see them dancing together among the swirls in the Cherry Blossom grove where they first met.

Maria Varick Joralemon

There is a tale to tell, a chilling tale of fierce, marauding redcoats, of dark-of-night escapes in the bitter cold of Winter and a remarkable woman who fed an army. The tale is told to us by one of our own fellow citizens who lived here through these events during the Revolutionary War. Here, in her own words, in just the way she wanted us to read it, is the story of Maria Joralemon:

I am Maria Varick Joralemon, of Holland ancestry, wife of Theunis Joralemon, of Belleville, New Jersey, also of Holland ancestry. My brother was John Varick, who suffered a long imprisonment in the City Hall Park Jail, New York City, because he had a son who was an officer of rank in the American Army. My brother never recovered from these hardships, and remained an invalid the rest of his life. But we both never tired of hearing about the adventures of Richard Varick, his son : -
Dick was Secretary to General Schuyler, Inspector General at West Point, and a member of General Washington's Military Family. I could fill a book with the tales the lad would tell us, when he came home for a few days leave.

"Aunt Maria", he would wheedle, trying to put his arm around my waist - and please notice, I just said "trying", because he never could succeed.

"Aunt Maria, if I tell you another adventure we had the other night, over in the big city, will you give me some more nut strudel, and another mug of ale?"

Ah - I can just see us now - all sitting around the blazing fire, in the old Joralemon house in Belleville. It was a beautiful house, all built of stone, standing on a high terrace surrounded by trees and shrubbery. A large orchard flourished on the eastern side, while white farm buildings and vegetable gardens were on the western side. The front of the house was glowing with flowers from the earliest Spring, when tulips swayed in the breeze, until late Fall, when the golden and crimson chrysanthemums made the air fragrant with their spicy odor. From the verandas which stretched in two tiers across the front of the mansion, you could see the blue waters of the Passaic River, and the low hills of New York. There was lovely furniture in that house - my husband's family had brought a great deal of it from Holland, and my brother had given me quantities of the old Varick mahogany, which had come from Holland also. I well remember the old fashioned bureau, hand carved and high and broad, which one day some fierce British soldiers wrecked and hacked with their bayonets. But that was only one example of their many acts of vandalism. It makes my blood boil to think of it. But, as Theunis, my dear husband, who is a mild man and a peace lover, says to me:

"Calm thyself, Maria, and attend to thy maids and thy kitchen."

But, I still do feel that terrible thrill of fear that I experienced on a bitterly cold night in December. We were awakened by a thundering noise on the door, and voices shouting :

"Make haste, make haste, the British are coming."

Oh, such a panic we were in ! Up we got and packed our things as quickly as possible, and harnessing four horses to the big sledge, we hastened over the snow for miles and miles until we reached the American Camp at Morristown. There we stayed in safety for over a week.

But, beside all these terrible memories , there is a very pleasing one that I shall never forget.

One beautiful winter's day, when the sun was shining clear and bright and the first warmth of coming Spring was in the air, my husband hastened to me with the astounding news that three hundred American soldiers and officers were marching to our house for rest and food and shelter. Three hundred !! I closed my eyes a moment, drew in a deep breath, squared my shoulders like this, opened my eyes and said :

"Very good, Theunis, everything will be ready for those three hundred dear American boys who are fighting so hard that we can keep our beautiful homes and so that we can live our free lives in this beautiful land. All will be ready for them."

My husband silently embraced me, and then I started for the kitchen and the smoke house - the pantries and the store rooms.

When the soldiers arrived, I was so sorry for them, they looked so weary and bedraggled. The roads were icy and snowy and their shoes and boots were in a dreadful condition. The young officers were in scarcely any better attire, and all were cold, tired and hungry. We welcomed them all. I so wanted to gather them all in my arms and kiss them, for they all needed a mother's watchful care. But we did all we could for them, and soon the tired soldiers were asleep in the big hay mews, and the officers were made comfortable in the guest rooms.

Then it was that my daughters and my daughters-in-law, and my servants and I worked like beavers. Great stores of potatoes, apples, winter rye, wheat and corn were brought out, as well as whole muttons and geese and ducks for roasting and hams ready for slicing for the tables; jugs of cider and ale were filled and placed in readiness. Tables were hurriedly laid out in the big room, even in the handsome best room, which had not been opened all winter. Blazing fires soon took the chill off the unused rooms, and by the time that the dear lads were rested, we were ready for them.

A finer sight I never saw, and it is one that I want to bring to you as a lasting memory. For to feed the hungry and help the needy are the good deeds that the dear Lord asks of us, and for those deeds He promises His Blessing. And we have been blessed - we, Theunis and Maria Joralemon, and our children and our children's children. What more can be desired ?

So with deep happiness of a thankful heart, I make my curtsy, and bid you all goodbye. Many women of my time have done more heroic deeds, many have made great and noble sacrifices, but of me it can be remembered - Maria Varick Joralemon fed three hundred American soldiers at one meal, and would have fed three hundred more if they had marched that day through Belleville.

-

It should be noted that Maria Joralemon refers to the town as "Belleville" not the "Village of Second River" as the town was known during the Revolutionary War. Not a bit odd, since, after all, it was her generation that, fourteen years after the war ended, re-named the town they had fought for as the "Beautiful Village." Maria Joralemon, as she offers us her recollections in later days, appears to be allowing civic pride to overrule any "good-old-days" sentiments.

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Have you visited Cherry Blossom Village yet ?
http://cherryblossomvillage.blogspot.com/

Walter Kidde

Remember, March 3rd is ELISABETH MERSELIS Day, the first person born in the Village of Second River - 1682.

It's a well known fact among older generation folks here in town that it was Walter Kidde who helped Belleville win the Second World War. While thousands of our own fighting men engaged our enemies around the globe, from Tokyo to Berlin and many unpleasant places in between and beyond, our highly skilled work force toiled without tiring in our factories producing copious quantities of war materials that would not fail at the moment when our town's sons most needed them to work right. There was no slip-shod work going on here. You didn't know whose son might need the equipment you were producing in a perilous moment. So, every piece was made as though someone you knew might need it in battle.

During the war, the folks at Belleville's Walter Kidde Company were making self-inflating life rafts and flotation vests, special design fire extinguishers for ships, tanks and aircraft, fire suppression systems for aircraft engines and compressed carbon dioxide devices for operating retractable landing gear and bomb bay doors and compressed oxygen systems for B-17 and B-29 bomber crews among so many other items. So well known was the value of the output of our factories, that our town became a high profile target to the enemy. Civil defense was a major issue taken very seriously here during the war years.

Somewhere out in the far Pacific, a wounded Grumman Hellcat is spiraling down. As the pilot ditches the plane in the sea, he pulls the cord on his Belleville-made flotation vest and escapes along with a Belleville-made inflatable raft. The vest and raft keep him afloat until he is rescued. A distance away, on the deck of an aircraft carrier, asbestos clad men, known as "Asbestos Joes", watch as a smoking war bird tries to set down on the deck. A Kidde fire suppression unit prevented the gas tanks of the plane from exploding in air giving the pilot a chance to come in. When the skidding craft bursts into flames on touchdown, the "Asbestos Joes" rushed straight into the flames, armed with Belleville-made flight deck equipment, doused the flames and saved the pilot. Wherever there was combat, Belleville was present in carefully crafted equipment to protect the fighting men.

In June of 1942, a crowd of 3,500 gathered around a podium just outside the Kidde plant. Mayor William Williams was introducing Colonel Casey Jones of the Army Air Force who would be followed by Walter Kidde, the genius who led the army of defense workers at the plant. The gathering was reminded that it was one of their devices that had saved famous aviator Eddie Rickenbacker when he was downed in the Pacific. They were told of Navy pilot Ensign George H. Gay who had been shot down the previous week during the battle of Midway, but was saved first by a Kidde flotation vest and then a Kidde life raft from which he then had a ringside seat to watch the battle. "Aren't you proud", said Mr. Kidde to the group gathered, "that our valves held, that the raft functioned and because they did, Ensign Gay survived to tell us this story of the battle." They were reminded that every type of tank in the Armored Service had two types of extinguisher and both of them were made here. Every battleship, PT boat, fighter, bomber and land base was protected by Belleville-made Kidde devices. "Men's lives depend on you !", they were told by Major Seddley Thornbury of the Armored Service. But everyone here already knew that. The booming voice of Colonel Casey Jones left them with a fiery battle cry "Let's beat that bunch of b------s and beat them well !" Everyone returned to their battle stations in the plant ready to pour it on.

Belleville's army in the Kidde plant gave their sweat, gave their blood in many collection drives and gave their money such as when, in January of 1945, they collectively contributed to purchase a B-29 long range bomber for the Air Force. It was christened by Mrs. Kidde, who, instead of using a traditional bottle of champagne, sprayed it with a fire extinguisher. It had been named "The Extinguisher" and bore an appropriate logo on its fuselage. In addition, over a thousand men who had previously worked at the Belleville plant, were involved in active combat and were users of the materials they had once helped to produce.

In the same year, the Armed Services paid tribute to the man and the town first in naming a long range bomber "The Belleville" and then in launching a Victory Ship names the "S. S. Walter Kidde". The Ship, sleek and fast, capable of 17 knots when at maximum power, could outrun a U-Boat.

Walter Kidde, the man, was born in Hoboken, NJ on March 7, 1877, was an adolescent during the classic gas-light era of the 1890s and became a college graduate from Stevens Institute of Technology in 1897. After a brief apprenticeship with a consulting firm, he opened his own office at age 23; Walter Kidde Constructors. Among his notable achievements during this time was the development of the ship yards at Port Newark and Kearny. During his term on the New Jersey State Highway Commission, he oversaw the construction of the first traffic circle at Camden, the design of the first clover-leaf intersection and , in 1932, the design and construction of the Pulaski Skyway. But, by as early as 1918, his attention was becoming increasingly focused on the manufacturing of fire fighting equipment. Engrossed with the development of his company and products, he declined an offer to run for Governor of New Jersey for the GOP in 1927.

It was a dark day for us when on Tuesday, February 9, 1943, Walter Kidde died suddenly of a heart attack in his home. The loss of his presence at this moment in time was a greater blow to the community than later generations could know. He had great plans for rewarding his army in Belleville for their Herculean war effort, plans that were to make of us a role-model community in the post-war era. He felt it was a just reward for a town that was giving so much of itself. There would be music and art centers, outdoor stadiums and theaters, expansive recreation areas, parks, tennis courts, children's playgrounds and just so much more. Many plans were already in the design stage and start-up funding provided. A foundation had been established to carry out his plan. But, without Walter Kidde's presence, organizing genius, fiery drive and desire to give back to the community, little of it came to be. We had a hero once, but he died too soon. In June of 1945, a monument was erected on the banks of the Passaic River, directly across from the entrance to the plant, to honor the memory of this great man. The Army may have had General MacArthur, but Belleville had Walter Kidde.

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Old Episcopal Church - Main Street

Over the years there have been a number of architectural gems built in our village, of such outstanding quality that, had they survived, our town would have been high on the list of tourist attractions in the State. One of the finest was the old Episcopal Church on Main Street. It's old world architecture was as elegant and picturesque as any you will find in Cotswold, Kent or Norfolk in the English countryside where such treasures can be viewed today.

The congregation of the Episcopal church had its beginnings when, in 1746, by royal proclamation, HRH King George II of England authorized the formation of the church. The charter specifically identified church groups in the separately recognized communities of Second River, Newark, New Barbados, and Acquackanonk Landing.

First services in Second River were held in 1751. For many years, services were held in such quarters as the congregation could secure. For a while, they were held at the Dutch Reformed Church, later in a grain storage room at an old mill on the river and still later at the Academy. Finally, the time came for the congregation to have a house of worship of their own and this would be done in grand style.

The cornerstone of the new structure was set in 1836. In 1837 it was completed. Later the same year, it burned to the ground. A reader of an earlier version of this article has drawn attention to the fact that the fire of 1837 was actually an act of arson. A bit of research has uncovered this information : "June 24 1837. On the night of this date the church in Belleville was destroyed by the wickedness of an incendiary. Isaac C. Baker the contractor was fully committed to take his trial for the foul deed. The contractor covered the building with insurance and then set fire to it. He served four months in prison but the insurance was not obtained."

Determination always succeeds. In 1839 a new structure was begun. While a new church was under construction, the congregation was permitted to use the Methodist church and occasional services were performed "in the upper room of Mr. Dow's Store on Main Street." Completed in 1841 with spectacular results, the new church was a sight to behold. The new structure was an outstanding example of early Georgian Gothic architecture with a Norman fortress tower on the East front capped with a stately bell tower. The bell was that one from the earlier, ill-fated church, which had been imported from England. The Bell had been damaged in the fire but was re-cast, along with the fire-melted brass and silver altar vessels, and set in the new tower. The tower held a stained glass rose window 5'-2' in diameter. It had been constructed of the finest brownstone as might be hewn from the renowned Belleville quarries. Lancet windows, 12'-6" tall at the arch spring line, were framed with hand-tooled sandstone and set with magnificent stained glass. This impressive structure served the congregation and graced the community for 50 years. In 1912 it was closed, replaced by a structure on Washington Avenue.

Still standing and in structurally sound condition in 1939, it was the subject of a WPA survey of historic American architecture. The old church was slated for refurbishing and additions in 1944 as part of the Belleville Foundation's plans for culture and recreation facilities throughout our town. The Foundation, funded principally by Walter Kidde, Wallace and Tiernan, and Eastwood Neally, intended that the church building serve the community as a music and art center for concerts, exhibitions and as a museum for Belleville's history. The Federal Recreation Survey in 1944 recommended that the building be additionally used for the training of recreation personnel for the community. These plans never reached completion and in 1958, the building was demolished. A pity, it was a proud and beautiful building. An altar, constructed of stones saved from the demolished church, was set in the churchyard at the site of the original altar.

The churchyard still exists and can be visited today. The display above is based on old postcard views, archival photos and engineering drawings from the Federal "Historic Architecture" survey.

We are still hopeful that the last of the great, historic buildings in our town, the old Dutch Reformed Church, can be saved.

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This article has been updated and expanded since first published. A quantity of new information and photos, provided by the Belleville Public Library and Information Center's Chief Archivist, was added to that information in our own files allowing an enlarged presentation.

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There have been some new features added for your enjoyment. In the sidebar, you will find "Famous Quotations from Famous People". It refreshes with a new quote every 20 seconds. Our "Word of the Day in Italian" is still there for those who want to brush-up on their language skills for a trip or maybe just to better enjoy Italian operas. If you scroll down to the bottom, you will find a presentation of Washington Avenue as it was in 1949. It is based on news items and advertisements from the 1949 Belleville Times. Names and addresses of each business are given from South to North. Viewing note - place your cursor over a slide to pause the display for reading.