Village of Second River Belleville, NJ

100 Years Ago - part 3

2011-11-13T13:34:00.004-05:00

Memoirs - Chapter 1

Your author-here-present has enjoyed the extraordinary good fortune of acquiring the memoirs of a completely delightful lady who lived in Belleville from 1910 until 1952. Originally a resident of New York City, she made frequent vacation and weekend trips here beginning in 1910 until, so captivated by the beauty of the town and it's people, she moved here permanently in 1914. With an enchanting pallet of glowing, heart-felt, flowering phrases, she paints for us a wonderful word-picture of our town as it was at the beginning of the 20th Century. We will meet her friends and neighbors, many of whose names are familiar to us who know our town's history, and see our town through her eyes as it was in those days. Bertha Feuer wrote these words during her final days with the hope that they would be transmitted to future generations so that they, too, could understand what a special town it was. That will happen. Those parts of the memoirs which cover the period from 1910 to 1918 will be presented here in two parts, this is the first.

A huge Thank-you is in order to Carolyn Acceturo, granddaughter of Bertha Feuer, who provided these memoirs to me, and through me to the Town of Belleville and Susan Carpenter, another granddaughter, who so kindly provided an electronic version of the original hand-written text.

It begins -

To Bertha, the city of Belleville was a real vacation after leaving the crowded City of New York, How she enjoyed the row of houses that belonged to old Joralemon Station at Cortlandt St. between Joralemon Street near Little. The rents that year was only $15 for a whole house of 10 rooms and beautiful grounds to the bargain. Well, at the corner of Joralemon and Cortlandt lived a friend of ours, also from New York.

Previous to 1914, say about 1910, Grader Kahn namely Manz, now deceased, rented that house and we did enjoy many a weekend vacation. Her daughter, Flora, who was as wild as we were, always gathered us all together with her Aunt Rose B. and up to Hill Side Park** for a great time. That’s what the Park was called then. ** [this is a reference to Hillside Pleasure Park, Belleville's great amusement park.]

Later we all decided to move to Belleville and settle down. Our friend Mildred Stone known to us as Millie, jolly and full of fun, rented at 401 Cortlandt St. from the Joralemon Estate. The lumber yard always was at the corner of Cortlandt and Joralemon. The Main St. north of Joralemon, past Eastwood's Wire Works was known to us as lovers lane. Up Belleville way to the Nutley line our children and crowd would walk to the reservoir on Main St. to fish for gold fish and steal a swim in the cool reservoir.

Along the roads of Main Street from Joralemon to the Delawanna Bridge we would walk and pick Elderberry blossoms, when in full bloom. These were to make our pancakes from which were delicious. When the berries were up we would pick them ripe, to make Elder Berry wine.

They were real good old days and the gang of us felt like children that had discovered the Fountain of Youth as we never wanted to grow old. Years slipped by and changes always come about so we moved to Main St., No. 367, a very nice house owned by Eastwood's.

Our main entrance was Main Street, but we also had a side entrance at Joralemon Street. Billy Hamel, one of John Eastwood's employees, would come for the rent and tell us tall tales. How we laughed. It Kept us young.

My friend Millie Grady, a Mrs. Halderman also formerly Mrs. Wells, lived next door to us. Mrs. Halderman taught Sunday school at the Methodist Church. The people now mentioned have all deceased. We had grand days and picnic together.

It was Belleville like the song La Swiss, La Bella or Belleville is Beautiful. Along the Passaic River that flowed thither to dither occasional boats would sail along, especially tug boats. It was everlastingly interesting to us, to get up in the attic rooms where we could gaze quite distances, almost to the skyline of the Palisades of the Hudson River, across Sigler (?) Hill Sides Farm to what seemed to us a vast wilderness. We were able to walk across the bridges of the Passaic, the Rutgers St. bridge, also the Delawanna, to all the different suburbs across the river.

We could walk to Clifton, Nutley, Bloomfield, which was at the border of Soho or where Isaac Hendrick's Copper works were. We could put a foot in the Silver Lake, Newark, or Silver Lake Belleville or Bloomfield and even walk through the woods straight up dirt roads into Glen Ridge and Montclair. For 5 cents car fare we could go almost anywhere. Almost to Eagle Rock for not much more than a nickel. Dear old nickels, then, meant so much to us. Sometimes we would walk to city line, North Newark and then to Newark on the No. 18 bus; in 10 minutes we were to Broad and Market. A very old market was on Broad St, which ran on the old Morris Canal near Commerce St in Newark all the way to Mulberry Street, then the downtown of Newark, was a thrill to us even though it had no comparison to New York’s Chinatown.

We would leave early in the morning for Newark, to the market, and bring home large shopping bags full of all the goodies money could buy. Sometimes the packages were larger than we were able to handle. We would also love to browse over to New York by the way of the Erie Railroad or the Hudson Tubes. We were the gypsies that knew our way around. Dear, merry, laughing days of good 1914.

The part of Main Street from Joralemon St. going toward Newark on both sides of Main St. were real old time beautiful homes as far as Mill St., Belleville, where our town ended and then River road of Newark began. It was also a pretty sight to see, although Belleville once took in territory as far down as Mt. Pleasant Cemetery, Woodside and Forest Hill in 1914 it only started from Mill St. to the Nutley line, taking in the swampy section of Silver Lake, Belleville and good old Soho.

Those were just a few of the neighbors mentioned at that part of Belleville. Tenants of Eastwood. Old man Roberts worked for Eastwood, when they had a team of horses to pull their work. And in the neighborhoods on Ralph Street etc. were many Roberts as they were a large family. In a little house at the corner of Joralemon lived Mame and her family. Roberts. These folks all are deceased now.

Mamie had the finest garden of corn and tomatoes. For 50 cents we could buy a bargain of her. The house was sold so she moved to Ralph street right in back from where we lived. An old type brick building on this street lived Norman and his wife and most of the Roberts family. Up at Washington Ave. opposite the Episcopal Church was Richard's Hardware store, Kenworthy the corner bakery and Levine the tailor.

We would stroll up to Kenworthy's and have an ice cream soda and buy our newspapers of him. Old Westlake, now passed away, had quite a paper route, but we only purchased his papers when I moved toward the Town Hall at Main St., 127, in the year 1918.

(In 1918) ..I moved into two rooms rented from Mary Ella Osborne. The house was an old revolutionary landmark built in about 1765 or somewhat by an Englishman and was one time owned by Hugh Holmes. Mr. Osbourne was one of the first druggists in town and his father-in-law, a Wessely Dickinson liked the place so much that Mr. Osborn bought the place and fixed it up for us to live in. He, his wife Mary Ella, and Julliette Dickinson and Wessley Dickinson, moved in and were happy and proud of the place. They had horse and carriage. Dud Hogs, an old time colored man worked with the horse whose name was Pet and Mr. Dickinson, the bank note engraving inventor, brought a peacock to run around the grounds.

It was a beautiful sight to pass and gaze into the place. Mary Ella Osborne nee Dickinson loved flowers and garden work. Nothing was missing out of those grounds. Julliette was the artist who taught painting. Since Wessley Dickinson invented his engraving machine, his 3 sons Ed, Charley and Clem (?) went to foreign lands to teach students to run the said machines.

Wesley Dickinson worked in his little machine shop in Belleville, Ed Dickinson went to China for two years. While he was gone, Nellie his wife, and daughter Stella, lived with Ella Osborn at the mansion. Clem went to England and Charley to Portugal. While in foreign lands Mr. Wessley Dickinson died, so Charley was not notified until he came back.

The homes on the river were beautiful and there were many old landmarks.
Next door to the old mansion house on Main St. the Cole family lived. Mr. Cole brought the old Osborne homestead from Mr. Mertz. The house ran from Main St. to about 50 ft. and its other 50 ft. facing Stephan St. lived Will Osborne a nephew of Howard Osborn’s. We all got along splendid. Singing Pat used to deliver mail at that time.

There were two great big cottonwood trees very old, every bit of 100 or 150 years of age about the center of the grounds and they were beautiful. Flowers would grow very high and when a bad storm came up what a beautiful sight. Flowers would blow down that looked like a tulip. We would exhibit at Howard Osborne’s Drugstore they were that beautiful. To the Cole family, one of them, Margaret, would swear she seen ghosts under those trees.

Typical Irish Fairy Tales were told by Mrs. Cole herself. She was from County Kerry or Cork Ireland. I would sit hours listening to the fairy tales of Ireland and their haunted castles that sometimes I would go home and dream that I was also haunted, as the rooms at 127 Main St. were immensely large. What a joke. We finally had to move from there. The property was sold after the Osbornes occupied the house 27 years. Ed Dickinson once enjoyed many a day at this old mansion of Main Street.

They are gone the houses on the river. Gone like Rip Van Winkle who slept 20 years in the mountains. I face up and down the street of Main Street thinking to myself about the houses and the characters that lived on the Passaic River. The fire that burnt down a row of houses, the flood, etc.

Howard Osborne’s drugstore was flooded. So were all the houses as far as Main to Second River and the Delawanna Bridge, to Cortlandt Street, Stolz Bakery. Damages were terrific and many lost what belonged to them. Row boats and hip boots were used in some of the Main St. homes. What could be saved was carried to higher floors and attics. John Osborne’s house on John St. was flooded bad enough to rot everything, as the house was built without a cellar. Mr. Howard Osborne related the story to me.

It seemed the deluge was on after the water receded. Thousands of people came to view the flood. There were two of these. The last one was the most serious. Some dam, I believe, the Dundee near Passaic or Paterson, gave way causing the river to rise above level.

[Continued next installment.]

An engraving of one of the many mansions that lined Main Street

Lover's Lane in 1912 from an old postcard.

* * *

Need a Clark Bar ?

A Retired Ghost

2011-10-09T01:04:00.004-04:00

We Second River villagers know well how replete we are with residents who keep one foot in each of the worlds, and, even though we recognize that there are other jurisdictions claiming to be the home of a spirit or two, we know our local demographics, we know the extraordinary population of lost spirits who find this a suitable place to call home, and we are tempted to claim the title of "Ghost Capital" of the East Coast. What's more, we claim to be one of a very few villages anywhere that is home of a "retired" ghost, a story to unfold herewith. It must be admitted that the veil which separates the worlds is tantalizingly thin in our precincts, such that the opportunity to slip through the veil for both spirits and citizens is much facilitated by certain vibrations which emanate from the ground here-abouts.

Now, you must understand that we are a modern, sophisticated people who will never openly admit that we believe in ghosts, but sometimes a thing will happen, a vision will appear, that makes us pause, scratch our heads and say, "Hmm ...". And after all, it is nearly Halloween. So what better time is there for pulling out the musty old manuscript of a Second River ghost tale, dusting off the cobwebs and reading it anew.

Old Second River, before it's banks were adorned with Cherry Blossom trees, was once lined with stately, perhaps somber, weeping willow trees. If ever you have been in such a place, you know the chilling sound of the woeful whine of wind in weeping willows. Add to that, such as could be heard here, the higher octave timbre of a female voice wistfully whimpering over sorrowful remembrances in her heart. Here is an orchestration that could send a shiver up your spine, raise the hairs in the back of your neck and set your fight-or-flight self-defense mechanism on high alert.

Thus, the scene is set for this oft' told tale from our village annals. Indeed, we have been telling each other this tale, confirmed by several generations of historians, for beyond a century-and-a-half. It is repeated here that it may be transmitted to still another generation.

The roots of this story are anchored in the last decade of the 18th Century, just after the end of the Revolutionary War, near to the time when the Village of Second River became Belleville. Benson's Grist Mill stood on Second River near the bridge by which the old Back Road crossed the river. Mr. Benson, most recent owner of the mill had been found, quite dead, in the mill race minus his head. It is said that he was done in by a rival for some fair damsel’s affections. You might say he lost his head over her. Never-the-less, his apparition was seen by several, reportedly sober, townsfolk, howling in anger, demanding revenge, from the old bridge on dark, moonless nights. Now, the townsfolk were not afraid of ghosts, per se, but it was considered a matter of good common sense to not cross the bridge in the dark of night.

Stories of the apparition lingered for a long time, becoming more terrible with each telling, especially in the village taprooms. There was, however, a young lass of the village one who lived near the bridge, who looked with disdain upon ghosts, lost spirits and other such apparitions, who thought she might make use of the natural apprehensions about the bridge for her own purposes. It seems she had become disenamored with young men whom she thought were haughty and arrogant, even supercilious as a group, though perhaps not as brave as they boasted. She, with malice aforethought, would wait upon the darkest night to unfold her plot to terrorize wayfarers approaching the bridge. A young buck who had stayed out a bit too late would be making his way cautiously along the old back road approaching the crossing in the dark of night with naught but a hand held lantern casting light just a few steps ahead. There, at the bridge, with the murmur of the wind in the willows whispering warnings in harmony with the strange gurgling messages of the mill brook, perfectly accented with the hoots of an owl disturbed by the traveler's footsteps, the scene painted with odd shaped shadows cast by the lantern, there was reason here to give pause to the faint of heart. but not to a fearless, though on-guard, young man. But what? .. what ho is this? .. leaping out unto the bridge, a specter clad in gossamer, white powder and candle glow, wielding a detached head looking much like a carved pumpkin but flaming from every aperture, casting wild shadows all about, shrieking wicked shrieks, swearing ungirlish oaths in a high pitched voice, shouting terrible unpleasantries in an otherworldly voice. Then, if the lad had not already turned to run, she would hurl the flaming pumpkin head so that it crashed and exploded at his feet. It was a sight that would encourage the boldest young lad to return from whence he came and forego the notion of crossing the bridge.

This went on for a number of years, the bridge was declared off-limits after dark by rational folk. Too many people had actually seen the ghost to deny the truth of it's existence. But, in the course of time, the hauntings stopped. It seems that the young lass, Mary Ann Andrews by name we are told, had matured and become pretty. It no longer suited her purposes to frighten young men away. She hung up her gossamer gown, put away her pumpkin carving tools to become our village's first "retired" ghost, choosing the flesh and blood life of a winsome, eligible maiden instead. The headless ghost of Back Road Bridge was no more, at least not for Mary Ann's natural lifetime. She lived to an old, old age, surviving 'til the first days of the 20th Century. After her passing, in more recent times, although the spirit has not reappeared to the eye, and the willows no longer grace the banks of Second River, on dark nights it is said that hysterical laughter can be heard in the precincts of the bridge. It is thought that it is the spirit of Mary Ann reminiscing over her pranks.

For those who demand historical accuracy, I offer this epilogue. An elder historian, Charles Gilbert Hine, author of "Woodside", active at the beginning of the 20th Century, has told this tale with details similar enough to what we have heard from other historians to allow us to conclude that it is the same story, but with one remarkable difference. In Mr. Hine's version, the young lady is Mary Ann Adams, daughter of old Sam Adams. Mr. Hine tells us that he was acquainted with the lady, she, having died, ancient in days, just six years before the publication of his book about Woodside, had confessed her identity to him as the haunting spirit of the old bridge. Now there's a task for a modern historian-detective with a brave heart; track down the true identity, if you dare, of our Back Road Ghost! Perhaps if you stand there by the old bridge on a dark and foggy night, when the mill stream is gurgling it's secret messages and the hoot owls are about, she may come to you and whisper her true name in your ear, that is, if she doesn't hurl a flaming pumpkin at you!

>==+==<

For those who find our village spirit stories a little incredible, perhaps because you have never personally encountered one of our resident specters, may I respectfully suggest that you visit our neighbors at the "State Scare Factory", down on Main Street. They are more than capable of convincing you that Belleville is indeed the Ghost Capital of the East Coast!

Visit the State Scare Factory site.

>==+==<

* * *

100 Years Ago - part 2

2011-08-31T02:35:00.008-04:00

Shopping
Up-dated 9/3/11

In this installment of "Belleville 100 Years Ago", we will explore the ways and means and opportunities available to townspeople for that time honored folk ritual known as shopping. Our main business district at this time was Washington Avenue and the connecting side streets between Joralemon and Mill Streets. Main Street, the former business center was nearly abandoned by this time because of a series of devastating floods during the previous ten years. A few businesses remained on Main Street, but the movement was toward the higher ground of Washington Avenue. The reason is made abundantly clear in the photo archives of the Belleville Public Library and Information Center where pictures depicting the extent of the massive flooding on and around Main Street can be viewed.

Shopping a hundred years ago was a very different kind of experience. Shopping malls, as we know them, were still 50 years into the future. But, no matter, most everything you needed was usually available in a neighborhood store. Special interest items beyond the ordinary could be purchased in New York City, only a 40 minute train ride away. Best of all, there was nothing you could imagine needing from anywhere in the country that could not be purchased from the Montgomery Ward catalog. These catalogs continued to be available well into the '80s, but those from this earlier decade were far more comprehensive.

Transportation was limited. Motor cars were still a luxury item, and would remain so for a few more years until Henry Ford perfected the assembly line making them easily affordable. At this time motor cars were owned by only the well-to-do; driving them was an adventure as the controls were not yet standardized and the driver needed considerable skill as a mechanic to ensure a motorized return to his starting point. Shoppers were aided by an electrfied trolley that ran the full length of Washington Avenue. Transportation to Newark was available, but at this time it was actually still easier to go to New York City. Train service to New York was frequent, reliable and inexpensive. In spite of these travel limitations, there were really no hardships.

Trolley to Newark

Grocery shopping, for example, was most often done at a small, nearby store. There were a lot of grocery stores in Belleville. There were not many residents who did not live within two or three blocks of a grocer. There were, however, no large loads for the housewife to carry for several reasons. First; the kitchen "refrigerator" was actually an ice box with minimal storage space. Shopping for food stuff was carried out daily or every second day. Secondly; most housewives shopped the "modern" way, by phone. The lady of the house, would crank-up her phone, tell the operator to connect her to the grocer who would write-down her list. A short time later, a young lad pulling a wagon would deliver the goods to her kitchen door. If there was no hurry for delivery, the grocer might deliver her order on his horse-drawn wagon while on his daily rounds. Although motorized trucks were common, most local merchants still preferred the reliability of the horse. Also; many fresh vegetable and fruit vendors came through the neighborhood each day. Dairy products and bread were delivered to the door daily as well. Food shopping took less of a housewife's time in those days than it would today, so there is no need to feel sorry for her on that account.

Actually, any purchase you made which would not fit into an easy to carry bag, would be delivered to your door, this was standard practice. Since most folks were so accustomed to hands-free shopping, is it any wonder that many an evening of shopping pleasure, especially in the absence of televisions, radios and computers, were spent turning the pages of the Montgomery Ward Catalog or that of their chief competitor, Sears and Roebuck.

If the reader will take a moment to recollect the largest shopping mall ever visited, consider the variety of merchandise offered, multiply that by five, then one can begin to understand what might be found in those 800 to 900 pages of the catalog. Every kind of kitchenware, fashions, lamps, oriental carpets, books, victrola records, toys, exotic teas and coffee, even drugs were offered. Not that there were no drug stores in Belleville, there were several, but if the buyer were not in urgent need and could wait for delivery, Montgomery Ward, at a discount, would send anything that existed, hundreds upon hundreds of drugs, herbs and patent medicines, from Aspirin to opium, Epsom salts to morphine and even Carter's Little Liver Pills.

A glance at the array of advertising by Belleville merchants which has survived gives us an idea of what we would expect to find on the streets of Down Town Belleville 100 years ago. Although, since we are only able to present surviving ads, it may be misleading, but it does seem that there are at least as many confectionery / candy stores as there are grocery stores. It is almost tempting to think that our town folks had a sweet tooth! ... perhaps.

A peek into the past

Washington Avenue looking North towards Williams Street.

Store front at 127 Washington Avenue.

Even this brief survey of merchants who set up shop along our streets and those other recourses available, shows us that our civic ancestors were in want of nothing to be purchased at retail.

There were many others. One might plan a days shopping while sipping coffee at Mougel's Cafe at 5 Washington Avenue. If a camera was on the shopping list, a stop might be made at the Belleville Pharmacy, the prescription drug store whose ad claimed to be "the only store selling Kodaks and Camera Supplies, Rexall Remedies, Huyler's Candies and was the headquarters for postal card views of Belleville". Mr. W.D. Cornish, Ph. G. was the proprietor. If new clothes were on the agenda, Mr. Testa, the custom tailor at 267 Washington Avenue would be accommodating. His ad implores prospective customers to " Try me for that new suit at reasonable prices". He was also available for cleaning and dyeing. Perhaps the pantry needed restocking, in which case a stop at E.R. Plath at 408 Washington Avenue would be in order. Mr. Plath was a "dealer in superior coffees, teas, rice, spices and extracts. Satisfaction is guaranteed. Prompt delivery. Our wagons deliver daily in Belleville. Our coffee is roasted daily".
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The list of merchants goes on; John Reilly, Jr. sold "sanitary milk" from his establishment at 100 Oak St.
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Jno. Nevin Klien, reliable Drugs only, at 111 Washington Avenue.
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H. Kuntz, meats and provisions, first class market, telephone connection 2539-M Washington Avenue.
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Washington Market, Otto Groner, Grocer and Butcher, phone 2418-J, 122 Washington Avenue.

A look inside Otto Groner's store.

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M.M.Ryno staple and fancy groceries, hay, grain, Chesterfield and Tom Keene Cigars, phone 2416-R, located at 223 Main Street.
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Charles Kuhlmann, dealer in Meats and Groceries, fruits and vegetables, 249 Washington Avenue.
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Gustave Fleur, Groceries, Delicatessen and Stationery, Telephone 2438-J, Belleville, 36 Washington Avenue.
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It seems a fair assessment that free enterprise was alive and thriving in our town a hundred years ago. The many merchants listed here are by no means a complete list. Only a handful of advertisements have survived for a century. The number of privately owned small businesses was impressive. Pride in entrepreneurship was part of the culture of our civic ancestors. There is a certain "home town feeling" that comes with shopping where the storekeeper knows your name and caters to your tastes. Shopping with neighbors in friendly, local stores was a very pleasant experience.

* * *

Belleville High School

2011-04-08T05:18:00.004-04:00

Belleville, New Jersey

The 4 High Schools

No, that's not the name of a DooWop group, it is how many high schools there have been since the beginning of Belleville's high school program. To find the first, we must reach back from our vantage point in this 21st Century, entirely through the 20th to the closing decade of the 19th Century when, in 1896, we find our village's first advanced learning curriculum, the first acknowledgement that more than rudimentary education might be needed by young people to get on in the world. It was slow getting started. Public education at any level began not much earlier.

It was in the middle of the nineteenth century when attitudes toward education were changing such that sentiments leaned more and more toward thinking it a public responsibility to prepare young people for life with advanced learning. The concept was not entirely new as our village, along with our sister Dutch colonies, had been first in the New World, as early as the late 17 Century, to ensure the education of all children in a tax funded school system. Our public school system, however, ended abruptly when the English invaders became the new masters of the colonies. Free, tax funded education was not an English custom. It was abolished. The Dutch church assumed the responsibility of educating the young, but unable to collect taxes to that end, the system was funded by subscription, thus it was no longer free to young scholars.

Modern parents of the mid nineteenth century, a generation steeped in Victorian sensibilities, having seen the consequences of 150 years and so many generations of under-educated children, were demanding a return to a tax funded system to ensure at least a rudimentary education for all children. Belleville responded in 1853. In that year, a public school furnishing six grades of elementary education was established.

High school was not yet a part of the new system. High school was a noble concept existing in only a few places. In those days, students went to grammar school through six grades. This was considered a complete elementary education. The young scholar knew how to read, write, do basic math and had been introduced to the "logic" of geometry. Education beyond that level was considered excessive. A young boy could then begin his apprenticeship at work and a young girl her apprenticeship in the kitchen.

For those with higher educational expectations, after grammar school, there was prep school to bridge the gap between elementary school and college. Trouble was, prep schools were private schools, expensive and available only to well-to-do families. In a world of exploding industrial achievements, it became clear to worried parents who wanted a higher standing for their children than was their own in industrialized society, that something more must be provided in the public school system. The eventual addition of 7th and 8th grades did help to bridge the gap in the public system, cutting down on the time needed in prep school. Still, public schools did not make the young scholar ready for college until finally, there was the addition of the public high school program. At first, in Belleville, high school was a two-year program, but it was not long before a full four-year curriculum was in place and students could be "prepped" for college, trade school or the military in our village public system.

The "Academy", built in 1853, was Belleville's first public school. Later, it was enlarged and re-named School 1. The old, original Academy, now behind and dwarfed by School 1, became our first high school in 1896. Lacking anything remotely resembling modern amenities, it was a challenge to study there, but Belleville's scholars were a hardy lot and they made do.

The situation improved, but only a little, when the high school program was relocated, in 1903, to the newer School 3 built in 1897. Many old photos and period postcards identify School 3 as "Belleville High School". Well, .. that was partly true. School 3 was a multi-purpose school. It housed a complete elementary school system, including grades 7 and 8. The high school program occupied the third floor, so to that extent, School 3 was the high school and remained so until 1915.

1915 was a year which underscored the importance of the high school program. It was then that the Washington Avenue building was completed. It was the first building used exclusively by the rapidly growing high school program. In that sense, the Washington Avenue school was the first high school; that is, the first building dedicated to only the high school program.

The original building was designed by famed Belleville architect Charles Granville Jones. It was a royal beauty. Several photos of the original building still exist. There were three additions to the school. No photos of the intermediate stages have surfaced so far. The final addition completed in 1937, including the gymnasium, is the way we see the building today. The Washington Avenue school, School 6 according to the town numbering system, served the community for 50 years as a high school and serves the community still as a middle school. It is well cared for, looks really spiffy with all new windows and is now surrounded with Cherry Blossom trees.

The new high school, our fourth high school, situated on campus-like grounds adjacent to the stadium, is pleasant enough. Although we call it the "new" school, if the truth is to be told, it is 45 years old now. Your author-here-present, having taken various adult school courses, once trying desperately to learn Italian before a trip to Rome, has thus been a student in the new school. It is reasonably comfortable, but lacks the classic charm and character of the Washington Avenue school. Perhaps I am prejudiced, after all, I graduated from the Washington Avenue school.

The Academy, located on the grounds where School 1 is today, is the historic beginning of learning in Belleville.

School 3 as it appeared in 1908. Several additions were constructed in later years.

The familiar south elevation, side entrance, to the Washington Avenue school.

The grand auditorium and balcony of the Washington Avenue school designed by famed Belleville architect Charles Granville Jones.

The main entrance to the "new" school.

100 Years Ago - part 1

2011-01-12T21:21:00.007-05:00

Our Neighbors

This is the first installment of a project that will be presented here from time to time, between regular featured essays, during the next 18 months. The theme is "Belleville 100 years ago". The target date for the project is August 24, 1912. It was then when everyone in town celebrated their civic pride on "Belleville Day" with much pomp and circumstance. While I am jumping the gun on this a bit, after all it is only 2011, there is a considerable array of material to put into a presentable format. By the time the target date actually arrives, it should all be in place for your enjoyment.

In this first installment, we'll meet the folks in town. These are people worth knowing. Belleville entered one of the two golden decades that occurred in the 20th century while this generation of citizens was active. 1912 was a peak year of the elegant, high-tech Edwardian age

It must be noted that there was significant lag time on this side of the Atlantic when discussing the Victorian and Edwardian eras. In England, where these eras were defined, the Edwardian era began in 1901 with the ascension of King Edward VII to the British throne and lasted until his passing in 1910. In America, however, we had been so enamored with the Victorian Era styles and customs that we were slow to make the change. Movement toward the lavish, fashion conscious Edwardian era in America did not really begin until around 1908 and it continued until war broke out in Europe in 1915 which effectively cut off our access to European fabrics, goods and fashions. Thus, 1912 was the height of the Edwardian era in America and we loved every minute of it.

The American Edwardian era was a high-tech age like no other before it. The gaslight, horse and buggy era was over. With enthusiasm and soaring expectations these folks welcomed the changes happening all around them. It was just 9 years ago that a man, for the first time in all of history, had flown through the sky in a flying machine. Now, these flying machines were everywhere carrying with them the eager sureness that everyone would soon be flying. Those amazing motor cars, a curiosity a decade ago, were now seen everywhere, they had become desirable consumer commodities. Everyone was saving their money in the hope of owning a motor car. Some of them could go faster than 25 miles per hour! That was faster than most people had ever gone in their entire lives. This was exciting. Motor boats were replacing sail boats. Telephones were already commonplace. Victrolas played all the recent hit tunes like the popular American Quartet version of Moonlight Bay, Bob Robert's Ragtime Cowboy Joe, or Scott Joplin's New Rag. Our civic ancestors loved to dance. There was a dance pavilion over at Hillside Pleasure Park. The two-step was in fashion. The teenagers liked the turkey-trot, although that was frowned upon in many places as an inappropriate display for young people .. shades of rock and roll forty years later! Ragtime music, popular a decade and two ago, was making a major come-back

Nothing explains better what it felt like to live in a time or place than does the music. Let's take out one of those old 78rpm victrola records, put it on the record machine, crank it up a few times, set the needle down on the record and listen. Imagine your civic ancestors doing the two-step to this music. This is Ada Jones, a very popular recording star of the time.

Below is a link to a collection of music popular at the time. These are the songs you would have heard in the living rooms, on the front porches and at the many social clubs throughout the town. Let yourself feel the rhythm, it's the rhythm of life in 1912.

Victrola

1912 was a wonderful year! Business is thriving. New factories are moving in. The population is 14,000, growing at 10% per year. The town is boasting 40 miles of streets with 30 miles of them "macadamized". Public sewers are being installed. Electric street lights have been in place for over 25 years. The public school system is among the best in the state.

Let's stroll about the streets in our village, tip our hats and say, "How d'you do", to our neighbors. These are the people who are demanding a newer, better Belleville. Civic pride can be seen in their eyes in every photograph.

Let's begin at Town Hall on Main Street. Yes, that's right, on Main Street. There is a new Town Hall under construction on Washington Avenue, but that won't be ready 'til next year; 1913. For now, the town offices are located on the second floor of a multi-purpose building on Main Street about ten car-lengths south of the old Dutch church, on the river side of the road. There are stores on the first floor and a Sunday School along with the municipal offices on the second. Let's meet our town officials -

Moving along through the center of town, we meet old William "Doc" Hood. He's been active in recreation, athletics and schools for as long as anyone can remember.

William "Doc" Hood

Look ! .. there is William Bennett and his family in their 1910 Rolls-Royce.

And there is Stella and Mary standing by their front gate.

There is a large collection of photos of townsfolk from 1912 available, more than can reasonably fit in this blog space. However, they are assembled into a photo album for you to view. Click here to see the album -

Photo Album

As this project evolves, you will become intimately familiar with every aspect of Belleville as it was a hundred years ago. I hope you enjoy this trip back in time. It may be interesting to see how we have changed. Or, perhaps we haven't changed at all; we are still good people striving to build an increasingly better town. Perhaps the old folks we have met today would be as proud of us as we are of them.

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Woolworths Lunch Counter

2010-11-11T18:24:00.010-05:00

Some of us from the old days, those days before the invention of highway stores and malls, remember when "going shopping" meant a trip to Washington Avenue which, then, was a vibrant shopping center. The catch-phrase was "I'm going downtown" which invariably meant that collection of chain stores, shops and boutiques within a couple of blocks of Town Hall. We were always careful to make the necessary verbal distinction between "I'm going downtown - Newark" which was self-explanatory and "I'm going downtown" which always meant Washington Avenue.

The "Avenue" was usually crowded during business hours. Parking was a challenge, there was only street-side parking, no public parking lots, and traffic was heavy. To say that it was a congested area is a classic example of understatement. Many townsfolk would prefer to take a bus to avoid the crush of auto traffic even though one would have to lug bags full of purchases home on the bus and then on foot from the bus stop to the house. But we were a hardy lot and it didn't seem all that difficult. It toughened us up, especially us cranky little kids who's feet would hurt after two or three hours of tagging along behind Mom as she made the rounds. If we had the audacity to sit down in the middle of a store aisle, we could expect a sharp look followed by an imperious command, "stand up and walk .. you can't sit there like that !"

You could buy most anything you needed on Washington Avenue in those days. Shoes could be bought at Jack and Jill's, Paul's Shoe Store and Miles. Men's wear was available at Michael's; ladies fashions at Mae Moon's, Edmar's, Reinhardt's or Mary Oliver's. There was Rubin Brothers, Singer Sewing Center, Charles the Jeweler, the Star Record Shop where you could listen to the latest 78 rpm hit on a turntable in a booth before buying, an A & P, Sears and Reeds Drug Store, just to name a few. But best of all, there was Woolworths at 177 Washington. Woolworths was best, if you were a kid, because they had a neat toy department and if you begged or pleaded enough, you might go home with a marvelous tchotchke that could amuse you for hours. They always had a great collection of glue-it-together models and toy lead soldiers. Yes, we played with lead toys back then and didn't even die from it.

There is a wonderful, old story about Belleville's Woolworths that might even be partly true. What is true is that it was such a good Cinderella story that Mothers would tell it to their young daughters at every opportunity. We are told that Belleville's sweetheart and famous songstress, Connie Francis, once worked at Woolworths on Washington Avenue. Perhaps it was a summer job, the details are sketchy at best. What it had to do with her becoming rich and famous doesn't register on a scale of one to ten, but the story was so good that Mothers all over town could say to their girls whenever Ms Francis was heard on the radio, "Listen, there's that lady from our 5 and 10. See how famous she has become ? You could do that too if you practice a lot and get a job at Woolworths to pay for the lessons."

And then, like an oasis in the desert, just when your aching feet couldn't take another step, there was Woolworths lunch counter where you could sit up on a stool and eat. You could order a sandwich for between 30¢ to 60¢. Remember how each sandwich was served with two slices of dill pickle and a small handful of potato chips ? A Coke was a dime and came with a squirt of lime syrup if you wanted it. And then, if you had not been too troublesome to Mom, you might hit the jack-pot and get a "super jumbo" banana split for 39¢. It was a good lunch for around a dollar or less depending on how lavish you were. And don't forget the customary 10¢ tip.

Wouldn't it be great to go back there one more time ? Well, maybe we can't, but here's the next best thing .. an old, 1957 Woolworths lunch counter menu has turned up and it is shown here for your enjoyment. Maybe it will rekindle a few old memories. Click on menu to enlarge for easy reading.

Woolworths Lunch Counter Menu - 1957.

Haunted Village

2010-10-13T01:43:00.002-04:00

Belleville is a haunted town. Now, that is certainly not news. Our old village has always been haunted. We wouldn't want it to be any other way. In the shadows of Octobers past, we have become acquainted with the personalities of a few of the spirits with which we cohabitate here in this town. Perhaps the reader remembers the tale told here awhile back of old Andrew's bones, glimpses of which can sometimes be seen skulking about, hiding beneath window sills, listening to conversations in village houses. Not so strange a thing considering he was hanged for having heard too much about certain battle plans during the Revolutionary War. He denied it, of course. But then it is said of him that his bones let themselves down from the hangman's noose after being bleached to a high polish in the sun and that he has since been heard rattling and seen glistening in the moonlight on numerous occasions.

We treasure our "spiritual" heritage hereabouts. We look forward to the occasional hauntings of the good Reverend Gerardus Haughoort, a folk hero here to be sure. Credited he is with having single-handedly starting the Revolutionary War with his firebrand speeches and inflammatory writings. Were it not for his foul temper, he might well have stood with the other founding fathers of our country. But, his sometimes outrageous behavior got him into frequent trouble. Still, we admire him for his accomplishments and listen carefully on quiet nights when, if you are silent, you can hear the echo of his fire-and-brimstone sermons chastising us if we are not running the town as he thinks we ought to. His remains are interred within the old Dutch church from where he ventures forth when he deems it necessary. He really does have our best interests at heart. He's a good fellow, but don't get him upset.

We still marvel at the tale of old Mr. Thomas, the Welsh miner from the Schuyler diggings, who rescued the village from the sky-blackening plague of millions upon millions of passenger pigeons that had descended on us, by his calling forth the miner's gnomes from the old hollering hole. You know the gnomes are still roaming about, they are the real reason for the pot-holes that often appear in our streets. They are actually sink-holes created by the gnomes digging their tunnels.

Not to be forgotten is the Old Miser who carted his late wife to her final rest in his wheel barrow to save himself the cost of a proper send-off. The squeek-a-squeek of it's wobbling wheel is sometimes heard now-a-days as he looks for others that might be ready for the same ride. There are lighter stories though, such as the tree spirits who inhabit our Cherry Blossom trees. A glimpse of them can sometimes be gained, dancing and pirouetting, in the long shadows of late afternoons near the end of Winter.

That most often told story, the most famous of all our village ghosts, is our poor, misunderstood witch, Moll DeGraw of Gully Road. During her lifetime, Moll DeGraw had been known as a witch, for what reason no one ever was able to clearly establish. While some believed her an evil personage who held communion with the powers of darkness and who was able to brew mysterious and forbidden potages for her dark purposes, others swore that she was a simple old soul, adept at finding herbs of curative qualities in the woods. Her ill repute seems to be dated from the time of some mother’s threat to turn her unruly offspring over to "the wicked old witch" Moll DeGraw. The effectiveness of the threat was so gratifying that the lady told her neighbors, who promptly applied it also when occasion warranted. Second River’s naughty children , whenever ill-behaved, were threatened with “the old witch.”

Stories of Molly’s witchcraft began to spread. Some claimed to have heard eerie shrieks from Molly’s little hut on the river road. Others reported outlandish noises after dark, as if of carousels and dark orgies, so they imagined. Others had seen strange men who spoke strange languages enter and leave the hut.

At night, in the taprooms of the village’s taverns, the talk would turn to “the witch” and there would be cursing. When things go wrong, as they sometimes do, there are those who need someone to blame for it. Often as not someone would propose to burn her at the stake. But when the question was raised who was to go after Moll, enthusiasm waned, faces blanched, and the brave villagers would quietly finish their beer and slip off, one by one, to the comfort and safety of their homes

One night, however, Dutch courage was running particularly high and a group set out to the little shack by the river to rid the town of its witch. But it was too late for any exhibition of civil indignation. When they arrived they found Moll DeGraw dead. For many of them no better proof of Old Moll’s witchcraft was needed. Her untimely demise obviously showed a profound lack of consideration for the well-laid plans of that group of high-spirited citizens. To them her death was nothing less than a personal affront.

Old Moll must have liked the village in spite of the ill will directed towards her because her ghostly image can still be seen on foggy nights along the banks of our three rivers as she gathers the spiritual essence of the wild flora which grows there. Haven't you ever wondered why a plant, an herb, a wild flower or such may be found brown, dried-up, while others near it are still green and vibrant ? That's what happens when old Moll's ghost extracts its spiritual essence for her other-worldly purposes.

We mustn't forget the elderly couple whose beloved cottage stood in the way of an intended widening of the road to the town docks. They refused to sell to the developers. The cottage had been their home for all their many years together and they loved it dearly. Impatient, not willing to wait any longer for "progress", the house was torn down whilst the old couple were still in it. It is said that they did not survive the traumatic ordeal. Ever since, they have been known to wander through our town searching for their cottage, from time to time taking up residence in one house or another to see if it feels the same as theirs. They seem harmless enough, these timid ghosts, but townsfolk sometimes complain about how things have been moved here-and-there and objects are found where they were not left. If you should find that happening in your house, not to worry, it's nothing. It's just the old couple rearranging your things to try to make it feel more homey to them. But then, they don't seem to stay in one place all that long. Still, you never know, they just might find your house to be that special place they are looking for and take up permanent residence with you. Think of how it would enhance your property value if you had resident ghosts !

They are a friendly lot, our town spirits. They are eccentric, to be sure, but mean no harm, except perhaps the Old Miser, I'd watch out for him if I were you.

Best of all, we have learned from a recent edition of our town paper, that new ghosts are afoot. If you happen to be down on Main Street this October, and if you are feeling quite brave, you might stop in at "The Scare Factory" located at the State Fair Halloween Superstore, a spooky site that is enriching our haunted heritage in a big way. Created by special-effects professional artist Anthony Giordano already famous for his work in Hollywood and on Broadway for "Shrek the Musical", "The Last Sumurai", "Spiderman 2" and others not to mention six seasons on "Saturday Night Live" on TV, it tends to be very intense, startling and down-right scary. New to town last year when they drew 12,000 visitors, their venue is now enlarged to 12,000 square feet with 31 rooms where 40 ghoulish actors are there to entertain and terrify you. We are told that ninety percent of the display is new for this year. They boast that last year, 32 visitors cried, nearly as many experienced a loss of bladder control and a couple lost their lunch. To them we say, "Welcome to Belleville, the old Village of Second River. You have surely come to the right place !" We delight in our other-world inhabitants.

Entrance to "The State Scare Factory"

A handome actor from "The State Scare Factory"

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To learn more about "The State Scare Factory", click here.

Belleville's M56 Tank

2010-08-16T00:48:00.006-04:00

There is a new landmark in Belleville. One very much in keeping with our proud and ancient military tradition. The Disabled American Veterans Chapter 22 has acquired an M56 Scorpion U.S. Army tank. The tank will be on permanent display at the DAV headquarters, 612 Mill Street. Mounted on a Belgian block-lined concrete pad, it will serve as a constant reminder of Belleville's commitment to liberty. This particular M56 saw combat service with U.S. forces in the Vietnam War. It was deployed with the 173rd Airborne Brigade. The tank was donated by Picatinny Arsenal.

The M56 Scorpion was an unarmored American self-propelled vehicle, which featured a 90mm M54 gun with a blast shield, and unprotected crew compartment. It was meant to be transported by helicopter or by air drop.

The M56 was manufactured from 1953 to 1959 by the Cadillac Motor Car Division of General Motors for use by US airborne forces. With a crew of four (commander, gunner, loader and driver), the M56 weighed 6.4 tons empty and 7.7 tons combat-loaded. It had infrared driving lights. The M56 was a fully-tracked vehicle with rubber-tired run-flat road wheels and front drive sprocket wheels. It was powered by a Continental A01-403-5 gasoline engine developing 200 horsepower at 3,000 rpm, allowing a maximum road speed of 28 mph. Its fuel tank carried 55 gallons of gasoline giving the tank a maximum range of 140 miles. A good performer, it could navigate through a 48" trench, climb a 60% grade, overcome a 30" vertical obstacle and could ford water 42" deep. It could change direction by pivoting in place.

Creature comforts were non-existent as the vehicle was completely open. The commander sat on top of the radio, and the loader's seat was on top of the right fender stowage box, leaving the gunner and driver as the only crewmen "in" the vehicle. The ammunition rack was located in the lower rear hull, and the loader was provided with a folding platform from which to feed the gun. Twenty-nine rounds of main gun ammunition were carried.

The tank was unloaded and set in place, a task requiring an hour and thirty minutes, to the satisfaction of the DAV members who had come to watch on Thursday, August 12th. This new town landmark, a tribute to veterans and a reminder of the cost of freedom, will be cleaned and painted and a descriptive plaque will be added to complete the display.

A dedication ceremony will be held on September 9th at 11:30 a.m. We will all be glowing with pride each time we drive by and see it standing there.

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Belleville High School Class of 1962 graduates -

A new website / blog has been set up especially for you ! Stop in, enjoy the fun and join the group, your old classmates. Visit us here :

Belleville Class of 1962

Grocery Shopping 1950

2010-06-30T23:43:00.008-04:00

Perhaps you are planning a trip to the grocery store today, one of those tasks of adulthood that befalls you since you are too old for your mother to do it for you, which you take in stride since both you and your family require periodic meals. You may do it by rote, by dint of repetition, by the instructions in the weekly sales flyer wherein you are told what the store wants you to buy or perhaps you practice the Zen of Grocery Shopping and seek out the adventure in it.

You are told by promoters of the modern world that your life is so much more convenient than was your mother's or grandmother's because of all the services and consumer products available to you. Well, let's just see if that is true. Let's go on a grocery shopping adventure. Let's challenge the "good old days" and the old fashioned ways that went with them. As you head out for the store, the "Wand of Ancient Days" is waved over you and, suddenly, it is 1950. The SUV you started out in is transformed into a spiffy, new 1950 DeSoto sedan. Better take a tighter grip on that steering wheel, there is no power steering and leave just a bit of extra stopping distance because there are no power brakes, but not to worry, the car is well balanced so you will hardly notice the difference. The good news is that it has an automatic transmission, an AM radio and a heater ! .. forget about air conditioning.

Here is your 1950 DeSoto. Notice the split windshield, wing windows, heavy chrome grill and wide white-wall tires. Neat, huh ??

If you take a moment to glance at the grocery shopping list you prepared, you will see that it has been shortened. There are several reasons for this. Any milk, butter, eggs or other dairy products you needed were already delivered to your front porch early this morning by the O'Dowd's delivery truck. Any bread, rolls, buns, cakes, Danishes or other baked goods you may have wanted are removed from your list because Dugan's bakery truck already delivered those to your door. The Brookdale Soda truck has left you a case of the family's favorite flavored soft drinks, your bleach and detergents have been delivered and you have probably already selected many of the fresh fruits and vegetables you needed from the back of the farmer's market pick-up truck as it came through your neighborhood. Water ?? .. are you serious ?? .. the water supplied by the town is pure and clear. No one buys water at the grocery store ! Another consideration is that your 1950 refrigerator is smaller than your 2010 model and the "freezer" is a very small box, about half the size of one of your vegetable bins. So, you will not be buying large quantities of frozen foods. But not to worry, canned goods, preserves and dried goods are plentiful.

Your 1950 refrigerator was smaller but otherwise not so different from today's. These old units generally remained functional for 30 or more years; .. good stuff !

We are here in the early years of the "Super Market", so you will not have to. although you may still choose to, go to separate stores each for fresh butcher meats, poultry, fish or such farm produce as you could not get off of the back of that truck this morning. There were a lot of choices for Super Market shopping here in Belleville. There were four major chain stores just on Washington Avenue alone including A&P Super Market at 169 Washington Avenue just across from Town Hall, Acme Super Market at 325 Washington Avenue (Walgreen's today), Universal Food Market at 524 Washington Avenue and Food Fair Food Department Store at 554 Washington Avenue with it's magnificent view of the New York skyline from the back of their parking lot.

We will now offer you a tempting array of fine foods from these various stores at prices advertised at the time. But before you fill up your car with tons of these items because of what seems like very low prices, consider that, in 1950, a family income of $100 per week would have been a generous, middle-class income and you really didn't want to spend much more than $25 for the week's groceries. But, not to worry, you will do that easily at these prices.

A closer look at the relative prices may be needed to grasp the real difference. In 1950, a one pound loaf of manufactured white bread cost 14¢. In 2010, that same loaf of bread cost $2.79. It could be reasonably argued that the cost of the bread is the same but the value of the dollar has collapsed. Using the one pound loaf of bread as a measuring stick, your dollar today is worth 5¢ compared to 1950. Expressed in another way, your family income would have to be $2,000 a week to have the same buying power as $100 did in 1950.

Inside the store, the shopping experience was little different than today. The shopping cart was about the same, the store a bit smaller because there were no automotive, hardware or general merchandise aisles. You were not enticed to buy motor oil or beach chairs; the food store sold food. Otherwise, the store was arranged in aisles familiar to the modern shopper. The checkout was similar in appearance but lacked the modern motorized conveyor. The counter onto which you loaded your purchases was most often a smooth sheet of Masonite-like material fitted with a sliding bar and a pulling handle which the clerk used to pull your items closer to himself as he would ring up your order. The phrase "ringing up" your order came into being because a bell would ring when ever the drawer of the cash register would spring open.

We now return you to 2010. That beautiful DeSoto is transformed, wizard-style, back into your SUV which you pull into the parking lot of the Pathmark here in Belleville or perhaps the Stop & Shop in Clifton Commons. As you embark on your grocery shopping ritual, consider .. who really had the better deal, you or your 1950 counterpart ?? No doubt, the answers will vary, but it might be fun to think about it as you push the shopping cart around this week. And, not to worry about spending your dollars, they're only worth a nickel anyway.

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Notable local author Anthony Buccino (left) has just published his latest book:

For more information, visit -

http://www.anthonysworld.com/

The Capitol Theatre

2010-05-18T21:50:00.005-04:00

Now Playing

"Flaming Youth"

Staring Colleen Moore

Coming Attractions

The Capitol Theatre, the house of a thousand good feelings, had it's beginnings during a time when Belleville was already a significant center of entertainment. Nearby Hillside Pleasure Park was packing in 500,000 fun-seeking customers a year, as many as 50,000 per weekend. It seemed reasonable to expect that a profitable number of those folks, eager as they were for entertainment, might be enticed to come and see this sensational new form of amusement; the motion picture.

It was on April 17, 1922 when the Capitol Theater opened it's doors for the first time. It was located at 362 Washington Avenue, about 1/2 block South of Joralemon Street. It was built on the steeply sloped East side of the avenue which allowed for a natural downward slope of the aisles and seats. It was a 1,400 seat state-of-the-art motion picture theater, it presented the very best of this exciting and popular new kind of entertainment. Movies, still the silent type, were growing in popularity every day. Movie star magazines, already enormously popular, helped to draw in the crowds. It's success was assured from the outset.

The Alpha theater was still operating farther South on Washington Avenue near Williams Street offering movies, vaudeville and other stage entertainment . The Alpha had been there for years and, although moderately successful, was no match for the Capitol. The Capitol was modern and elegant, a custom designed home for the silver screen.

The excitement would begin as soon as you arrived. The bright lights of the marquee told you that something special was happening here. The fountain of lights at the front was a real attention getter as were the brilliantly colored posters at the entrance. The excitement was building as you approached the ticket booth, coins in hand, ready to pay your admission. You had read about the feature playing today in your favorite movie magazine and you could hardly wait to get inside. The cost was modest. In those early days, matinee tickets for youngsters were 15¢. For adults it was 25¢. Evening shows were 20¢ for youngsters and a hefty 30¢ for adults. (That may sound really cheap, but it wasn't. Take into account that a typical adult paycheck at that time was about $15.00 a week. Those coins were spent only after due consideration. As a youngster, you may have had to do a lot of chores to get them.) You had your tickets in hand and perhaps a couple of friends about you. You would march through the lobby surrounded by richly colored, larger than life images of the movies that would be coming soon. They looked sensational. You might quietly hope that you would have some more coins next week. A collector took your tickets, unlatched a velvet wrapped chain and let you pass. You proceeded through the inner lobby and now faced the most difficult decision of the day. Here was the candy stand ! If you were quite fortunate, you may have still had a couple of coins in your pocket. Oh goodness, what would it be ? There was pop corn, soda pop, Clark Bars, Raisinets, Milk Duds, Good and Plenty, Dots, Sno Caps, Junior Mints, Jujyfruits, Sen-Sen, Turkish Taffy, Mary Janes or Bit O Honey. You must choose wisely because you would be in the theatre for several hours.

Finally you were inside. It made you feel special just to be there. The old Capitol was like a palace. The aisles were cushion carpeted, the seats were comfortable, covered with a dark red velour-like fabric. The art deco designed interior included wall scones to illuminate the side aisles and decorative plaster work highlighted in a brushed gold color. Above was a light-encircled dome and a fine chandelier. Before you was the stage and a great, dark red velvet-like curtain. The old theatre was magnificent.

The show started with cartoons, then a feature movie. Afterwards were the coming attractions, newsreels, short subjects, an episode from a serial such as Ramar of the Jungle or Flash Gordon, and then a second feature movie. You were there for the entire afternoon. You got a lot of entertainment for your coins. It wasn't cheap, but you came away satisfied and looking forward to the next time. There were times when free gifts were given to encourage more frequent patronage. These gifts were usually aimed at the adult patrons; the ladies mostly. Perhaps there would be dinnerware, one piece each time you went, or maybe it would be depression glass. Sometimes an organization in town would host a holiday party with free gifts for the kids.

The wonderful old Capitol Theatre is long gone now, replaced by garden apartments. I can't help but wonder if those apartments are haunted by the laughter of thousands of happy children from days gone by. But the grand old theatre will never be forgotten by anyone who had the good fortune to go there. At least three generations of townsfolk have had very fond memories of the place. Modern movie houses lack the special character of the old Capitol Theatre.

A program from the old theatre has survived. It is dated for the week of December 31, 1923.

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If you graduated from Belleville High in 1962, the Class Reunion Committee wants to hear from YOU. The plans are well under way for our 50 year class reunion and we need to hear from you. Even if you don't think you can attend the reunion, at least let us know you are still alive and kicking (or at least breathing). Sad to say, that's not true of all our classmates. Stop in at the Class Reunion Facebook page, catch up on the news and gossip about your classmates and be counted.

Belleville, NJ Class of 1962 Facebook Reunion Page

Or, email me directly at
secondriver.blog@gmail.com.

The Delicates

2010-04-29T13:41:00.003-04:00

There is something in the air in this town that makes you want to really sing. That, coupled with the good vibrations which rise up out of the ground hereabouts, have been the cause of a disproportionate number of fabulous singers and musicians whose hometown was Belleville. The list is imposing. Just to drop a few names, there was big band crooner Vincent (Jidge) Riccio who sang with Les Brown's Band of Renown under the stage name of Jack Carroll, there was town sweetheart Connie Francis and Four Seasons singer Tommy DiVito. The list goes on, but the focus of this essay will be those three deliciously pretty teenagers from the Class of '62, Lee, Peg and Dee known together as The Delicates.

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If you were there at Belleville High during the early '60s, you knew them well. "Beep, beep, beep, beep Thunderbird ! (yeah)." They blended their voices with a touch of attitude that was cool, sophisticated, with moves and a style that made the guys melt in their shoes. And, did I mention that they were pretty? Their string of New York area smash hits included "Black and White Thunderbird", "Ronnie is My Lover" and "Meusurry" the theme song which they wrote and performed for famous New York 1010 WINS DJ, Murray the K.

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The story of the Delicates; Denise Ferri, Peggy Santiglia and Arleen Lanzotti, is a Belleville story through-and-through in which the plot played out during one of Belleville's several golden ages, the 1950's and early '60s. Your author-here-present has never encountered anyone who experienced this time and place who would not quickly acknowledge the value of growing up here in those wonder years.

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For our story, we must drift back to those gentle "Leave It To Beaver" days and call up an image of three young ladies, classmates at School 8 on Union Avenue, who, from as early as second grade, became fast childhood friends. They liked to sing. They especially liked to sing together. Playtime was a time for piecing together songs and harmonies of their own invention which they sang just for the joy of it. When you sing for joy, it adds a quality to your music that might otherwise be missing. Now, extraordinary talent can never go unnoticed, because even ordinary people can sense it. And indeed, our young ladies were found out early. From a reading of their memoirs, we learn that their first performance as a trio occurred in fifth grade when their teacher, Mrs. Eleanor W. Arthur, organized a talent show one Friday night and invited the girls to sing. A career was born that night.

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That was just the beginning. It was Denise's father who contacted Ted Mack of "Amateur Hour" fame. A father's pride is understandable, but no father would subject his daughter to possible embarrassment, so it is clear to the observer that he saw and understood the blossoming talent and felt entirely confident that something good was going to happen. It did. A talent scout heard the audition. The girls were whisked off to New York City. Stardom came quickly after that.

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It was at the tender age of 14 when the girls were invited to write and perform the theme song for "Murray the K and his Swingin' Soiree". There came in rapid succession appearances on Dick Clark's American Bandstand, the Clay Cole Show and the legendary stage shows at the Brooklyn Fox and Brooklyn Paramount theaters. And there were the tours, tours with the best known DJs of the time including Cousin Brucie and Alan Freed. Still, there was no less demand for them back home. One of my favorite anecdotes is this excerpt from Peggy's memoirs -

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I remember my mom waking me up saying, "Quick, call Dee and Lee, Mayor Padula won and they want you to sing it at city hall".

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It almost sounds like a fairy tale story, but then again, this sort of thing happens all the time in Belleville. Best of all, their story is not over. They will be performing this summer at the Meadowlands. You won't want to miss that. Serious rock and roll aficionados will want to learn more about the Delicates than this brief essay can provide. Here is a list of sites worth visiting :
The Delicates own website - http://www.thedelicates.com/ where you can hear their music, see photos and read those great memoirs. (Perhaps they can be persuaded to publish their extended memoirs. It is said they kept a journal of their adventures.)

Also try,

http://www.jerseygirlssing.com/delicates.html

and their Facebook page,

http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Delicates/121190347891298

A sample video is here -

It is a special treat for your author-here-present to highlight the career of these delightfully attractive ladies, first because they give so much credit for their success to their upbringing here in Belleville and also because I, too, was a graduate of Belleville High School, Class of '62. It was a VERY good year.

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Belleville, NJ Class of 1962 Facebook Reunion Page

Or, email me directly at

secondriver.blog@gmail.com.

The 1839 Affair

2010-01-24T15:55:00.005-05:00

A Belleville Dollar, 1839.

There is probably no period in our town's history more misunderstood than 1839 and what transpired in that year. I recall how, in 1989, the entire town erupted into great and wondrous excitations to celebrate our 150th anniversary. But, I wondered, the 150th Anniversary of what ? Our village was settled circa 1674. In 1682, when William Penn had purchased the proprietorship of East Jersey and sent his cousin and agent, William Markem to survey the realm, Markem reported that our village was "a thriving community with a considerable population". In 1697 Second River was sufficiently robust to merit the founding of a congregation of the Reformed Dutch Church headed by the renowned Rev. Guilliam Bertholf; this having been done directly with our independent community; not through another governing jurisdiction.

Our village was acknowledged as a separate entity by no one less than King George II in 1746 when the Episcopal Church was formed. Our village, notoriously active throughout the Revolutionary War during the 1770's, appears on George Washington's battle maps as a separate jurisdiction. We had changed our name from Village of Second River to Belleville in 1797. What then, in heavens name, were we celebrating here in 1989? Well, it turns out that we were celebrating a divorce. It was the termination of an experimental, short-lived, very unhappy, 3-way marriage. Now, that may need some explaining.

A complete understanding of what occurred can only be reached after a careful reading of The Township Act of 1798. It was during the decade that followed the end of the Revolutionary War. The recently approved Federal Constitution, in which existed a specific and itemized list of powers granted to the Federal government, left all governing powers not on that list to the several States. During this transitional period, each of the former colonies, now States, were meeting in their respective Capitals to decide what the mechanisms of government would be, each within its own borders. New Jersey chose a classic Greek model.

It was decided in Trenton that, at the municipal level, New Jersey would not be governed by representative government, but rather by direct democracy. Each and every land-owning, tax-paying, voting citizen would be required to appear at an annual town meeting at which the affairs of government would be openly debated among all citizens present and voted upon. To simplify Trenton's task of overseeing the process, the State would be divided into 103 townships having limited authority. This is where the trouble started. There were far more than 103 towns and villages in New Jersey. It meant that many independent communities were to be married together for township purposes. The powers of the township, as with the Federal Constitution, were strictly limited to an itemized list. All other activities would remain with the local community. The Township Act of 1798 gave the townships these five powers :

1 Manage and improve common lands. (grazing)
2 Establish and maintain pounds (cows)
3 Make provisions for the destruction of noxious wild animals and birds
4 Maintain and support the poor
5 Build and maintain roads

The townships were authorized to collect taxes, but only for the purpose of carrying out these five responsibilities. It was all very idealistic, this ancient Greek model of direct democracy, very noble and absolutely infuriating !

In Trenton it was decided which of the many communities needed to be married-off so that the total could be reduced to 103. In our case, the towns of Cranetown (Montclair), Belleville and Bloomfield were made party to a shotgun wedding after which we would be required to act in concert with regard to the five powers of township. It was at this moment in time when something happened that has caused endless confusion in our history. Trenton chose to name the new township Bloomfield Township. At this point we must pause and reflect on what has just occurred. What must be understood is this; Belleville never fell under the municipal jurisdiction of the municipality of Bloomfield. Rather, all the voters of all three towns were to gather once a year to discuss, in harmony, and vote upon how the 5 responsibilities of a township would be addressed, ... and paid for. (Can you imagine what that might look like if we were still required to do that today?) There is, after all, a remarkable difference between being annexed by another jurisdiction and being called upon to share the governing duties. The voters of Montclair, Belleville and Bloomfield had been called upon to share the responsibility.

On the surface, it didn't seem so difficult. There were only those five items to address. Public lands, at that time, meant grazing lands. As the region was becoming more and more industrialized, cows were declining in importance. Pounds also had to do with cows. It seems that cows are not respecters of property rights. Many a cow would, with malice aforethought and criminal intent, eat grass that was not meant for them to eat. If I caught your cow eating my grass, I would capture it and take it to the pound. In order for you to recover your cow, you would have to pay a fine related to the weight of your cow (called "poundage", hence the name "pound"). A share of the fine would come to me to reimburse me for lost grass. In jurisdictions where cows were a significant part of the economy, the pound-keeper was a very important man. Keeping the area free of vermin was not controversial. Paying for the poor was a sticking point in our area. Belleville was a former Dutch colony and was still very Dutch in character. Taking care of the poor was viewed very seriously here. It was our policy towards the poor which had helped us in the 1740's fend-off an attempt by Newark to annex us. Others did not share our enthusiasm or sense of urgency on the matter of helping the poor.

Item 5 on the list of powers, the building and maintaining of roads, was the issue which generated the most debate and outright hostility. It should be remembered that Belleville, during this time, included within its jurisdiction the communities of Nutley, Woodside, Mongomery, Soho and the rapidly developing area around Sunfish Pond. Belleville, the most industrially advanced community in the new township, the community best able to pay taxes, would have to contribute to the building of roads beyond its own growing need and include contributions to those other parts of the township. Roads were the lifelines of commerce by which communities sustained themselves and grew. Deciding on how money would be collected and distributed among the communities for roads was a hotly argued subject. It became intolerable. Not just here, but throughout the State. Lines were forming at the doors of the Statehouse. Town after town sent representatives to Trenton to demand annulments and divorce decrees from their townships. Trenton's idealistic vision of mutual self-government was not being well received at the local level.

The wheels of the legislature turn slowly. Each year several communities would receive their divorce decrees. In 1839 our turn came. A bill to grant us separation, sponsored by Abraham Spear, came forward for consideration. There is at least one vivid account of a wild and dangerous midnight ride through the darkness of central Jersey by Abraham Spear, who, upon learning that our decree was being decided and wanting to exercise his considerable influence during the vote, raced through the night to be in attendance. It was done. On April 8, 1839 our experimental marriage, begun in 1812 as a result of the Township Act of 1798, was dissolved. It was over.

So, there we were in 1989, 150 years later, jubilantly celebrating our divorce. Our brief affair, a flirtatious adventure attempting the mutual, cooperative governing of even a few designated issues, had not worked.

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St. David's Day is March 1st !

Visit the Welsh Gift Shop for an assortment of St. David's Day greeting cards.

Gwenllian, St. David's Day by njp7944
Browse more St. david's day Cards

Lake Watsessing

2009-12-14T22:49:00.012-05:00

Lake Watsessing

History, in the strict sense, is the written word. Our own grand story dates back nearly three and a half centuries. History may also include all the legends and fabulous folk-tales we tell that help define what kind of people we have been. There is, however, another kind of history, literally carved in stone, eager to tell us about the past, if we are willing to read it. It is the geologist's history of the land we live on. The land tells us, with unmistakable accuracy, the story of how it came into being as we know it. We live among three rivers, a valley and pleasant rolling hills. How this all came to be shaped, is told to us by the land itself.

Our land was given its form, attractive features and resources by nature's most ferocious grinding machine, a glacier. While advancing, the glacier scrapes, gouges, gashes and grinds everything in its path. When receding, it leaves every manner of rock, silt and debris in its wake but, above all, it leaves oceans of melt-water. And melt-water must go somewhere. Melt-water forms lakes in the deep depressions ground into the bedrock the while it is trapped between the receding glacier and the mountains of debris. These lake waters rise higher and higher until they find a spillway through which they make their way down to the sea.

There was a network of glacial lakes in north-eastern New Jersey. Three of them are of interest to us; two of them within our town borders and a third which was beyond our borders but never-the-less had a profound effect on our landscape. First, there was Lake Watsessing, a name applied by modern geologists.

Lake Watsessing entirely covered the Silver Lake part of our town. The old, 18th and 19th Century Silver Lake created by damming the mill stream, is shown on the map above for reference only. It was never a part of the glacial lake system. Lake Watsessing was many times larger. Lake Watsessing was bounded on the North by the high ground around Hendricks Field and Smallwood Avenue, on the South by Bloomfield Avenue, on the East by the high ground around the Forest Hill section of Newark and on the West by what is now Watsessing Park in Bloomfield. It's depth was down to bedrock. A small island rose above the waters adjacent to Newark Avenue. The lake, fed by melt-water, was formed because the bed of Second River was still choked with ice. The Lake spilled to the South through Branch Brook Park. For ages it was glimmering, pristine waters.

In the course of long time passing, the bed of Second River became free of blockage and Lake Watsessing began to drain away towards the Passaic River to where the confluence of those two rivers is now. But Lake Watsessing wasn't quite finished yet. It filled a second time. Beyond our town borders was a great lake which geologist have dubbed Lake Passaic. Lake Passaic must have been magnificent to see. It was 30 miles long, stretching from the falls at Paterson down to Moggy Hollow in Somerset County. Its spillway can still be seen at a preserve in Somerset County. In width, it ranged from the mountains in the Caldwells, westward to Boonton. It was estimated to be 375 feet deep. Its effect on our town landscape came when the glacial melt-back reached Great Notch at an elevation 75 feet below the waters of the lake. In a monumental explosion of crushed ice and a great roaring rush, the top 75 feet of Lake Passaic drained off. Where did all of that water go ? The mouth of Third River was still blocked. It came through Nutley forming there a lake that has been named Lake Yanticaw. Nutley took the worst of it, but Lake Yanticaw extended over into Belleville covering the areas surrounding the bed of Third River including the northern half of Fairway Avenue and all the land where the high school and stadium are today. (See map.) That great gush of water and the continuing melt-down could not be contained within this area, so the waters continued down what today would be Franklin Avenue, past the golf course, making its way toward Lake Watsessing. Second River was unable to handle the volume. Lake Watsessing was refilled and so it would remain until the next cataclysmic event.

Lake Yanticaw

The final chapter in this ages-long saga came when the melt-back reached the falls at Paterson. You must visualize this in your mind's eye. It is almost unimaginable. Once upon a warm day in ancient times, the ice block at Great Falls, Paterson broke. Oh my goodness, Lake Passaic, 30 miles long, 6 miles wide, now 300 feet deep, was uncorked ! First Clifton, then Nutley and then Belleville saw a most amazing rush of water. The lower Passaic River valley filled and filled and filled with a massive wall of raging water. Woe be on to any living creature that may have been in the way. Can you imagine how the ground shook? Can you imagine the sound? Lake Passaic drained, Lake Yanticaw drained and finally, for the last time (more-or-less), Lake Watsessing drained. The Passaic River, interrupted for a few millennia, resumed its course.

Great Falls, Paterson

The ancient glacial lakes are a long time gone, but the lake beds, gouged into bedrock remain. Yes, they are filled-in now. But they are filled-in with permeable stuff. They are still willing to hold water if ever there is enough. Here in our modern world, we keep these areas well drained ... mostly.

So, if you are ever driving around in Silver Lake on a really rainy day and the storm sewers start to back-up, don't worry, it's nothing ... it's only Lake Watsessing trying to reclaim the land. And don't call Town Hall to complain about the water. Do call there to thank them that it is not a thousand times worse. The Silver Lake neighborhood is safe because the marvels of modern engineering have beaten Lake Watsessing into submission.

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Home Room Teachers 1949

2009-11-16T00:13:00.005-05:00

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

2009-10-31T00:38:00.004-04:00

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.

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

2009-10-08T17:40:00.005-04:00

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.

* * *

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

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

Just A Party 2009

2009-09-18T16:34:00.005-04:00

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

2009-07-12T02:23:00.004-04:00

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

2009-06-30T19:10:00.004-04:00

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

2009-05-27T19:55:00.008-04:00

Style of the first telephones used in Belleville.

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

2009-04-23T21:36:00.002-04:00

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

2009-03-28T03:11:00.003-04:00

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

2009-03-11T01:46:00.005-04:00

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

2009-02-01T01:18:00.005-05:00

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

2009-01-21T17:58:00.006-05:00

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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We are interested in what kind of articles you most enjoy on your visits here. Please take a moment to vote in our "Reader's Survey" found in the right-hand sidebar.

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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.

Pulling the Goose

2008-12-24T17:08:00.006-05:00

The old Dutch pioneers who settled our village would have been delighted with an icy, snowy holiday season. Avid skaters as they were, they could be found on the lower, wider part of Second River skating figures, speed skating, playing colf on skates or just pushing Grandma along the icy way in one of those popular, highly decorated boat-like push-sleds. There would be booths set up with wooden benches and tables where a sort of eggnog made from brandy, egg yolks, sugar and cream was served or, another popular beverage made with steaming warm milk, aniseed and maple syrup.

Another amusement, but not for the faint-of-heart, was the racing of horse and sleighs along what would one day be Washington Avenue. There have been rumors that wagers were placed on these races although no confirming evidence can be found, possibly because horse racing was banned in most of the Dutch colonies, not that that ever stopped anyone. And then there was a game called "Pulling the Goose". Pulling the Goose was a year-round game, played on the river in boats in Summer and on skates in Winter. Here is an excerpt from our book "A Dutch Christmas in Old Second River 1697", that describes the game -

"A popular pastime, though outlawed in New Amsterdam and either forbidden or frowned upon elsewhere in the colonies, but practiced everywhere, was called ‘pulling the goose’. An unfortunate bird would have it’s head heavily greased and be hung by it’s feet across the stream or, any available icy lane would do. Skaters would rush past, grabbing at the greasy head. The winner was he who could pull the goose free. His prize was generally the goose. Those who failed would often find themselves in a most uncomplimentary posture on the ice and be subjected to the laughter of the others."

In this old engraving, we see a summertime version of the game called “Pulling the Goose”

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Here at The Village of Second River Blog, we wish for all of our readers a spectacular holiday season filled with everything that delights you. And, may the coming year be the best you have ever had.

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Try out the new feature we have added to the Blog. Over in the right side frame is a "Word of the Day in Italian" where you can learn the language a word or phrase at a time, just in case you are planning a trip to Rome. There is a full sized graphic version of it on our website at the bottom of the Home page. There, you can click on the large speaker icon and the word will be pronounced correctly. Click on the small speaker icon and the sample sentence using the word will be spoken. This is an experimental feature, let us know if you like it and we will keep it. Don't forget our new eMail address for the Blog is secondriver.blog@gmail.com .

Roast Turkey

2008-11-23T20:33:00.010-05:00

If you find that your taste buds are quivering just a bit lately, it's probably because the holiday season is arriving and we are anxiously looking forward, with hungry eyes, to what is about to come. Holiday season is feasting time ! And, of course, at the center of many a feast is the honorable turkey. The turkey is a North American native bird, so a roast turkey dinner is a Native American invention which we latter-day Americans have been happy to adopt. Thanksgiving is also a Native American, thousand-year-old, tradition which we have had the good sense to copy. Christmas itself, in the sense of a festive, feasting occasion is an invention of our Dutch civic ancestors. Christmas, elsewhere, was a solemn occasion. It was mainly among the Dutch colonies that it was a joyous, gift-giving, feasting holiday. Our village has enjoyed the best of these special holidays since the beginning.

Actually, the pioneers who settled our village would not be thinking of the American turkey as a strange or exotic creature to be eating. The bird was imported into Europe as early as the 16th century by merchant explorers by way of seaports in Turkey (the country) and became known as "the bird from Turkey", or simply, a turkey. The name stuck even after a proper Latin name was assigned to it. I think most folks would agree that "roast turkey" sounds better than "roast meleagris gallopa" or "roast bloeu" as our neighbors, the Lenape, would have called it. So "turkey" it is !

Since the Village of Second River has been around longer than all but a short-list of other old world settlements in this part of the new world, so it is that we and our civic ancestors have seen the entire evolution of turkey preparation from the hearth to the gas stove.

Colonial Hearth

Throughout the early colonial period, the "kitchen stove" was an open hearth, a log fire, where the turkey would be prepared on a blacksmith-made, crank handled, rotating spit mounted on a pivot on which the bird would be continuously, slowly turned and moved nearer or farther from the fire according to the judgment of the cook. At first, the turkey would be kept close to the fire to sear the skin, sealing in the juices, keeping it moist inside. Then, it would be moved a bit away from the fire for a long roasting. The cooks constant attention was required. An assistant was needed to do the cranking since the cook usually had other parts of the meal to attend to.

Open Grate circa 1790 - 1850

Around 1790, just after the Revolutionary War, a revolutionary new kitchen stove was invented. It was imported from England, curiously, with whom we had just been at war. But, while war may be war, business is business and these popular stoves were imported in considerable numbers by the younger "modern" housewives. It was the open grate stove, a cast iron affair with an exposed fire. Although it had an oven chamber, in front of the open grate the turkey could still be roasted on a rotating spit. This stove could be fueled by either wood or coal. Coal was just becoming available from mines recently discovered in nearby Pennsylvania. This would be the last kitchen stove on which a turkey could be "roasted". Today, although we call it roast turkey, we actually bake them in the oven.

Closed Grate circa 1850-1890

In the middle of the nineteenth century, the open grate stove was being replaced by the closed grate stove which featured an enclosed fire over which cooking plates were arranged. There was an oven on one side of the fire chamber and a hot water tank on the opposite side. The turkey could no longer be roasted before the fire, it had to be baked in the oven. The closed grate stove was similar to and a step toward the familiar kitchen coal stove.

Coal Stove circa 1890-1940

Did I say familiar ? Well, just ask your grandmother about it. She will tell you all about the task of firing up and baking a turkey in one of those. If the reader is old enough, the reader may have actually used a coal stove. Your author-here-present is quite familiar with them. It really wasn't that long ago when most folks switched to the modern gas stove.

It was not easy to convince the older generation to switch to the labor-saving gas unit. Aside from the fact that the manner of cooking is entirely different and older folks were not anxious to learn a new way, the fact is that the gas stove was down-right scary. Even though the gas stove had been available since the beginning of the twentieth century, there was no rush to buy them. From grandmother's earliest days as an apprentice cook, she would have been taught that a red/orange fire was the right fire for cooking and that a blue fire was the dangerous burning-off of toxic gasses which would be carefully marshaled up the chimney. No cooking would begin 'til the fire turned red. Can you imagine the gasp that would come from grandmother when the appliance salesman turned the knob on a gas stove and a blue flame appeared ? "My God, you are trying to kill us all ! I'll have none of those in my kitchen !"

Gas Stove circa 1920-1940

Those of you who are going to bake your holiday turkey in the oven of a modern gas range can thank your mothers from the 1950 era for the convenience of it. It was the post WWII housewife, with her love of labor-saving devices, that openly accepted the gas stove with it's god-awful blue flame and was quite glad to see the old coal stove gone.

Gas Stove 2008

But, what now ? What comes next ? Did someone say microwave ? I hope not. There would be something unholy about nuking a holiday turkey !

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Peek in at the new release at the book store. It's explains how your grandmother was taught to cook back when she was a little girl. It's a fun read and it makes a great gift !

Cherry Blossoms and Autumn Leaves

2008-11-10T23:45:00.004-05:00

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

We are headed hard and fast into deep Winter, that bleak and cold time of year when, for as long as anyone in our town can remember, for more than 70 years now, we have eagerly awaited that first warming sign of early Spring when our town explodes with millions of tiny Cherry Blossoms. It makes us special here in Belleville. It's one of the many good reasons that makes living here pleasant. But look here, there is something new, something to bridge the long gap between one Spring and another. There is a species of Cherry Blossom tree that displays it's flowers in Autumn, (Prunus subhirtella ‘Autumnalis’). And now, we have some !

When the County Parks Department carried out it's plan for a massive re-planting of Cherry Blossom trees to boost up the dwindling numbers in our park, they included a nice quantity of these Autumn blooming type. This year we are beginning to see what they will do. These trees are still young. They are already pleasant to see but will become spectacular when mature. Cherry Blossom trees are already a treat to view in Autumn because of the variety of colors leaves of different species become; red, orange, plum, copper, yellow. Now, an unexpected color, pink, will be added to the splendid array of colors.

Although some are growing along Mill Street, the best blossoms this Fall are in the grove by the "dead end" lane behind the 'Battle of Second River' monument. See them if you can, they are attractive and can only get better each year.

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There's a new release at the bookstore. It's a collection of 127 Italian/American recipes, over 100 years old, from the time when Italian housewives were being transplanted to here in America and were trying to make traditional dishes with items available in the American market place. You may remember some of these recipes. See it here --> http://www.normanprice.com/

The Hollering Hole

2008-10-14T20:40:00.006-04:00

'Tis a favorite time of year, when we open that musty-smelling old tome of the Ancient Legends of Second River. So many there are. And I do like telling these old stories. It should be noted here that Mr. Washington Irving, good author that he was, frequented a health resort on Green Island, once located in the Passaic River in Newark right on the border of Second River. He became acquainted with and collected many stories and beliefs of our Dutch settlers. That was good. From thence, for reasons known only to himself, he transported them up the Hudson to Tarrytown. That was bad. You see, if the truth were to be told, the Village of Second River was "Sleepy Hollow". Be that as it may, here we have a good old tale, one that Mr. Irving didn't take with him. It's still ours.

It was dawn the day before the day of Halloween. A beautiful, clear, crisp autumn day it was, too, not a cloud to be seen anywhere, except perhaps for that odd, shimmering cloud on the northern horizon. It was time to harvest the last crops of the season. Early Autumn crops had been bountiful. The promise of a good late autumn harvest was cause for good feelings. No one would be hungry this Winter. Folks worked anxiously in the fields with one eye to the North, clouds don't ever approach from the North unless, well ... , unless a Nor'easter was coming and a Nor'easter could make a mess of their harvest. The work intensified. That odd, quivering, undulating cloud appeared to draw nearer. There was some cause for concern. The harvest couldn't be completed in one day.

In late morning a voice rang out. It was the watchman in the church steeple, -

"AMIMI, AMIMI !" Amimi was a native American name the Dutchmen had learned from the Lenape for wild pigeons. The odd cloud, it was the coming of a plague of Egypt. A bolt of fear shot through them. Wild pigeons came in huge flocks, not just hundreds or thousands or even hundreds of thousands but millions at a time. They could devour the entire crop in the field and all that had been set out to dry. What to do? What to do?

A scouting party of birds arrived overhead, skimming over treetops, then more. The sky darkened. The air was filled with the eerie whoosh of countless flapping wings. The sun was blotted out by the numbers of them. The villagers had heard stories from other colonies about flocks so big it took three days for all of them to pass over. The villagers watched and prayed that they would just keep moving. All day they came and on into the evening. All through a night of uneasy sleep filled with terrifying sounds of millions of beating wings, they kept coming and coming. But they were moving, not descending.

Now, those devoutly religious Dutch villagers were certainly not a superstitious lot. Everyone knew that if you left the spirit world alone, it would leave you alone. But still, they had a certain concern for their souls. After all, it was common knowledge that birds were often messenger from the other world. But, good heavens ! ... what kind of message was it that it would take so many birds to deliver ?? There were shivers going up and down more than one spine.

Morning came, though the sky remained dark. Then it happened. A travel weary bird spiraled down and took his rest on a tree branch, and another, and another. In a frightening moment, trees everywhere filled with legions of tired, hungry birds. Danger was upon the village. It was an eerie, awesome, scary sight. The villagers were impelled to action. else it would be a hungry winter. Men rolled out the cannon and loaded it with small-shot. Each man brought his musket. Perhaps the birds could be frightened away. They fired and fired again. The women rushed to church and prayed for deliverance. They had heard a strange tale of how the bishop of Quebec had actually formally excommunicated the birds to protect the local farmers. Perhaps it helped, so they prayed some more. A group of young girls, to the chagrin of the elders, formed a circle and began chanting strange incantations. Oooommm. The children rushed home, dressed themselves in spooky garb, perhaps the first Halloween costumes, and returned to the fields to shout and moan and threaten the unwanted visitors with rocks and seaman's curses.

The birds remained. Ten thousand pair of glowing red eyes watched every move in the village. Old Mr. Thomas sat before his cottage puffing little, elegant smoke rings from his pipe. Mr. Thomas, a good Welsh miner, had left his home in the old country to come work in Mr. Schuyler's copper mine. So much did he like the village that he had decided to stay. But, a part of the old world follows a man wherever he may go. While the Dutch villagers had their encounters with headless horsemen, ghosts and witches, these things were no worry to Mr. Thomas. Being a proper Welshman, and a miner at that, his only encounters with the oddities of life were the Knockers, a race of diminutive men who dwelt in caves and tunnels below ground, a region familiar enough to a miner. The Knockers were a friend to miners who, with their rap-a-tat-tat on the mine walls warned of an impending cave-in or showed the way to a rich vein of ore. A miner would be much in fear to go below were he not confident that a group of Knockers lived in tunnels nearby.

Upon his first arrival at the village, Mr. Thomas had reconnoitered the area, looking for a crack, a crevice, a hole, a sign that the Knockers had come to the village with the miners. If they had, there would be a network of tunnels below the village in which they would live with an entrance here or there where they would come from time to time into the outer world. He had found one. It was up along the Second River, on the North bank. It was a small opening between rocks in an outcrop hidden by brush. Mr. Thomas widened the opening just enough to stick his head in. He would not enter or disturb them. He only wanted to know that they were there. As he stared into the darkness, he saw a pair of eyes glaring back at him. All was well. It was an ancient tradition that a miner, when finding such an entrance, would dig such a hole. It was called a "hollering hole". You see, the Knockers mostly helped the miners underground, but on occasion, if the need was great, a miner could shout about his trouble into the hollering hole and, if he were in good standing with the Knockers, they may see fit to help him. Mr. Thomas was content with his life and so had never imposed upon the Knockers. However today was a most extraordinary day.

It was late in the evening, Halloween evening it was. Mr. Thomas took a last puff on his pipe, doused it and stood up. He nodded to his wife. Words were not needed. Both knew what they were about to do. With lit torches and the acrid smell of burning pine pitch, they headed through the darkness down to the river. Mr. Thomas cleared away the brush, helped his wife to kneel down and thrust her head into the hollering hole. She screamed a terrible scream. She shrieked a wonderful, ear-piercing shriek. The scream and the shriek rushed like a raging torrent through the tunnels. Then she shouted, "The Amimi have come ! Please, help us !"

The villagers were hard pressed to describe what happened in the fields that night. They, Dutchmen as they were, could not see the Knockers but admitted to seeing misty steam-like vapors rising up from the ground. And with this came a most unearthly clanging like otherworld hammers striking on perfectly tuned steel anvils accompanied by wailing and screeching. If you have ever heard the cry of a cat whose tail has just been flattened by a rocking chair, multiply that sound by a hundred, make it ten times louder and let it echo back and forth a few times, you may have some notion of the sound that rose from the ground that night. The shrill cry struck a thunderous fear in the birds. One bolted into the air, then another, then a thousand, then ten thousand. In a whoosh rivaling the gale wind of a Nor'easter, they were off and gone. They flew into the darkness of night that Halloween evening, a thing birds never do.

The ladies returned to church to offer a prayer of thanksgiving. Surely the Heavenly Father had saved them. The men rolled back the cannon confident their ruckus and gunfire finally had the desired effect. The girls all went to one house to make fudge and discuss which incantation it was that worked at last. The children ran through the fields noisily arguing over whose costume was most scary and had turned the trick. Old Mr. Thomas sat before his cottage, puffing little, elegant smoke rings from his pipe.

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Some folks say ... and it may be true ... that the old hollering hole is still there !

Just A Party 2008

2008-09-20T23:03:00.004-04:00

It's hard to imagine, after last year's smashing success, that this year's "Just A Party" could possibly be bigger or better . . . but it was ! I hope you were there, it's a thing that townsfolk shouldn't miss. It takes powerful organizing skills to create an event like this but we are fortunate to have such skills in the person of Councilwoman Marie Burke, the prime force behind our town party.

Mayor Raymond Kimble welcomes the crowd and bids all to "enjoy".

Deputy Mayor Kevin Kennedy adds his welcome.

Councilman Michael Nicosia announcing an upcoming event in Silver Lake saluting the "Jersey Boys".
Every bit like our civic ancestors of the old Second River days, the good folks of Belleville are a hard working, civic minded group, intent upon building a superior family town for the new twenty-first century. This was clear to see from the many service groups who set-up shop on the party grounds; the Belleville Public Library and Information Center, the Community Emergency Response Team, the Clara Maass Medical Center, the Silver Lake Civic Association, the Woman's Club of Belleville, the Optimist's Club of Belleville to point out just a few of those in attendance.

But, at the end of the day, we like to party . . . and what a party ! What's your pleasure ? . . . singing, dancing, eating ? Would you like something for the kids ? You will see a small sample of that in the slide shows below. The high-light this year was a magnificent carousel. Maybe you came for the Latin jazz or the great Doo-Op music or maybe to search for a bit of treasure from the vendors. No one went home disappointed.

. . . and if that wasn't enough, there were free doughnuts ! . . . which was very fitting since the art of doughnut making was brought to America by our civic ancestors here in Second River along with the other Dutch colonials in the Hudson Valley area.

I think just about everyone in town was there, but if you were one of the few who couldn't make it this year, here is a selection of photos :

and more . . .

See ya next year !

Plenge's Farm

2008-08-22T19:15:00.007-04:00

Today is a perfect, beautiful day in August. There is bright sun, warm but not hot, a refreshing breeze and the smell of good, rich earth rising from the ground. Farm life in Belleville can be grand. What's that you say ... there is no farm life in Belleville ? Ah, well then, you are just not old enough to have grown up here during the wonder years when there was open space everywhere and the Plenge farm was one of the major landmarks in our town. If you were here, you most likely remember the Plenge Farm roadside vegetable stand on Franklin Avenue at the corner of Joralemon Street or, if you are a child of the early '50's as I am, you may remember it as O'Boyles Milk Bar, a favorite hangout after a Saturday afternoon football game. It is likely that you or your parents bought your fresh vegetables at the roadside stand or, if you preferred shopping at the A & P, which was supplied by the farm, you were still feasting on Plenge's fresh produce. There was no eating of limp stuff shipped in, less than fresh, from remote parts of the world. We ate what grew right here and it was fresh picked and it was wholesome, grown by a master farmer. Oh ! ... the flavor of home grown.

The farm was where today we find the Rutan Estates. Modern-day Plenge Drive goes through the heart of the farm. It ran from Third River along Joralemon Street to the Bloomfield line and back from Joralemon Street to the Nutley line with additional acreage at the intersection of Franklin Avenue and Joralemon Street where the roadside stand stood (Valley National Bank occupies the spot where the vegetable stand once was.) In all, the family's land plus various rented tracts, the farm was 72 acres.

It was in 1908 when August and Caroline Plenge bought farmland in Belleville. August Plenge was an experienced farmer who had been working a tract of land in Elmhurst, Long Island. Urban sprawl around New York City was making it more and more difficult to maintain farming operations in or near Elmhurst so the Plenge family began searching for quality farmland "out in the country". Their search brought them to our town. There was still rich farmland here in town west of Franklin Avenue.

The Rutan family, who had lived in Belleville since the Village of Second River days, long before the Revolutionary War, still maintained a farm in the Third River area between Joralemon Street and the Nutley border. Although the Rutan's used the farm for orchards and the raising of cows, chickens and pigs, August Plenge, a vegetable farmer, saw in it exactly what he needed. The soil was a rich mixture of loam and sand, gently sloping hills facing the best light for growing, an adjacent dairy farm in next-door Nutley to provide ample supplies of manure to ensure bountiful crops and the old Lobster Mill Pond on Third River to provide irrigation. Belleville proved to be excellent farmland as it always had. The Plenge family, August, Caroline and their first three children moved in. The farm had cost $10,000, a huge amount of money in 1908, but Mr. Plenge was confident that he could harvest wealth from the land and he was right many times over.

By 1923, the farm was thriving and the Plenge family was complete now with nine children. The youngest, Robert Plenge was born in this year. It is he, the youngest of the Plenge children, now at age 85, who has written a book about the farm and family in which we who value our town's history, are very much interested (see details below.)

A workday on the farm was most commonly from sunrise to sunset. In addition to the older children who were able to help, there were usually seven or so hired hands who lived at the farm. At dawn, breakfast was served to all in the Plenge kitchen. Caroline Plenge, arguably the hardest worker of all, was known to maintain a meticulous kitchen and dining room while serving her large family and the farm's workforce as well. Any successful farmer will tell you that it cannot be done without an equally successful house manager. After breakfast it was off to the fields.

In 1936, in the midst of the Great Depression, with financial pressures coming from every direction, several members of the large Plenge family constructed the roadside vegetable stand that many of us came to know so well as the most visible part of the Plenge farm. It is ironic that today, just a few hundred yards away, there is a very popular farmer's market. History does indeed repeat itself.

1938 saw a change of remarkable importance. The familiar sight of horse-drawn plows tilling the land gave way to the sight of a Ford tractor ! Business improved quickly and, at least on the Plenge farm, the depression was over.

1942 was a year that shook the foundations of the old farmstead. In August, in a front page headline story in the Belleville Times, the town was informed that August Plenge had died of a heart attack. A sad day indeed it was for the town as well as the family. It was noted in the news that Mr. Plenge had been a popular philanthropist who had benefited many town charities. Mother Plenge had died the previous year. The elder sons took over the operations of the farm.

By the mid '50's the town was changing. Developers were hungry for still more land on which to ply their trade. The town had raised the taxes on the farm. In 1957, under the same pressures of urban sprawl that had caused August Plenge to leave Elmhurst back in 1908, the last crop was harvested. The farm was sold. The beautiful old farmstead would become a housing development. For the first time since the founding of our village in the 17th century, there would be no farming in Belleville.

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This past week, your author here present had the extraordinary good fortune of making the acquaintance of Mr. Robert Plenge, youngest of August Plenge's children. At age 85, he appears to be in better health than most of us. Mr. Plenge, a very pleasant man by nature, was kind enough to patiently answer my many questions about the farm. The occasion of the meeting was the presentation by Mr. Plenge of copies of his new book to the Belleville Public Library and Information Center. Mr. Plenge's book, The Pictures in the Trunk, is a must-read for all who are interested in our town's history. I don't see how anyone can read this book and not come away with the feeling that every member of the Plenge family has become a personal friend of the reader. It is an elegant portrait of what family life was like at that time as well as the experience of growing-up in Belleville. It is a complete history of the farm. I enjoyed it thoroughly. I recommend it to everyone. The book, filled with color photos of the farm in addition to many antique black and whites and sepia tones, gives the older reader a marvelous, nostalgic look at Belleville's past and the younger reader a peek at what once was. Copies of the book are available for $49.95 directly from Mr. Plenge. He can be contacted, by eMail, at lukeplenge@comcast.net.

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A special 'Thank You" is in order to Eleanor Strollo of our town, a friend of the Plenge family, who was instrumental in arranging the interview that has led to this article. The photos of the farm in the slide show above are the property of Mr. Plenge and are used here with permission.

4th of July 2008

2008-07-04T22:55:00.005-04:00

It's the 4th of July, 2008. There are barbeques to prepare, friends and relatives to visit, perhaps a trip to the shore, or maybe just relaxation is on the agenda. But first, there was a duty to perform. In the shadow of the venerable old Dutch church, that icon of our liberty, townsfolk were gathering for a ceremony. It would be a brief, but ever-so-important ceremony. Our small town holds a unique place in a great nation's history. It is best if we don't forget. The old church stood as a watchtower and our citizen / soldiers stood as sentinels at a time when defending liberty was first on the agenda. We came to pay tribute to the three score and six Revolutionary War veterans buried here in the churchyard.

The solemn ceremony, performed each year, is largely the result of the tireless and considerably skillful organizing efforts of one our leading citizens. It is simple, elegant and rich in meaning to those who know their town's history. The marching band arrived as did members of the Boy Scouts. War veterans came, town officials came and ordinary folks, elder and younger, who understand the importance of their town's heritage came. It's a thing not to be missed. There are not so many towns that can do this and those who can should not fail.

A prayer for the souls of departed heroes was offered while all present stood in the ancient churchyard with bowed heads. The colors were raised while we stood at attention. The Pledge of Allegiance was given freely by everyone present. The Star Spangled Banner, played by our marching band, was sung by all who had voice enough to do it. Even those who had long lost their singing voice hummed along. It was an unmelodious but moving moment more rich in genuine feeling than good harmony. To the somber rat-tat-tat of the drum, the roll was called, a reading of the names of the Revolutionary War dead of our town. They were here, all of them, here in the ground below us where we stood in the freedom they have provided for us. We felt as though we knew them. Our streets are named for them and our town historians tell us their stories. They were brave men. Town officials, in a gesture representing us all, placed a wreath at the shrine where the names of the Revolutionary War dead of our town are permanently engraved.

We listened attentively, as if hearing it for the first time, to a reading of the Declaration of Independence, a perfect touch that served to teach the young and remind the old about why we were gathered and why this ground is sacred. "We hold these truths to be self evident . . . " The cannon in the churchyard, manned by townsmen in period uniforms, fired a 21 volley salute. The great gun boomed repeatedly, shaking the ground and filling the air with the old battle-scent of spent gun powder. It reminded me of the Battle of Second River when such cannon were fired to hold back the tide of British swarming through the streets of our town.

The echo of the last cannon shot was heard, the gun smoke cleared. It was over. We went our separate ways, each to their own way of enjoying the holiday, but content that we had taken a moment to remember who we were, the citizens of Belleville, the old Village of Second River.

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Be sure to visit Mr. Anthony Buccino's website where a tribute to our Revolutionary War heroes is maintained.

http://www.anthonysworld.com/bel_amrev_buried.html

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Please note that there is a new eMail address for sending comments about this Blog :

http://us.mc624.mail.yahoo.com/mc/compose?to=secondriver.blog@gmail.com.

English Tea

2008-04-29T19:36:00.005-04:00

There was once a time when elegance prevailed, a golden age when ladies went about in exquisite, high fashions topped with stunning picture hats exchanging pleasantries with impeccable Edwardian social graces while gathering for tea each afternoon. It's a time nearly gone now, yet, not quite. For once each year, these past fifteen years, with a flourish that would be the envy of any hostess, Margery Lordi, President of the Friends of the Belleville Public Library and Information Center, hostess extraordinaire, extends a town wide invitation to all to join her at a traditional English Tea. This year's English Tea was still another triumph for Mrs. Lordi, another chapter in a long-standing tradition.

If you have never availed yourself of one of these stylish affairs here in our town, you will have to exercise a bit of creative imagination to get the look-and-feel of it. In the Carnegie Room with its muraled ceiling, on the second floor of our library, the rich, dark wood, marble-topped tables are set with the finest china tea sets from the personal collections of Mrs. Lordi and other members of the 'Friends of the Library'. A piano is playing softly in the background. The setting is exactly that of an Edwardian drawing room. The head table contains an attractive and tempting array of tarts, cookies, cakes, scones and trifles all expertly made by a corp. of volunteers. At each table are trays of sandwiches and, of course, tea pots and tea cozies flanked by fine collectible cream and sugar servers. The highlight of the affair are the ladies themselves turned-out in fine fashion and, yes, the hats. It's a matter of tradition that only the most picturesque hats should be worn to tea, and so they are. This is elegance with a flair.

It is warming to know that such elegance has not entirely vanished from our town. We are ever so grateful, in this era of liberal flippancy, that we have this role model of a more genteel way of being. One can only hope that this tradition, begun early in the 19th century, will continue on for many years to come. A recipe book containing all the treats offered at this year's tea can be purchased at the library for a nominal sum, all proceeds going to the 'Friends of the Library' who support many of the library's activities.

The 'Friends of the Library' would be happy to have you as a member. Annual membership is unexpectedly inexpensive and easy to obtain. A phone call to the library, 973-450-3434, will get you an application, or just stop in at the front desk.

The Old Dutch Church

2008-02-05T01:07:00.001-05:00

How many generations has it been since the brave, patriotic citizens of our town took up muskets in the cause of Liberty and the Spirit of '76 ? For how many generations afterwards have the town's elders enthralled wide-eyed youngsters of a new generation with tales of those brave deeds of the Revolutionary War, offering as role models of heroism the exploits of our civic ancestors ? How many generations of citizens have safeguarded the heritage so that it might be handed down ? Wouldn't it be a pity if we were the first generation to fail ?

Belleville, the old Village of Second River, was a hot-bed of patriot activity, not to mention the processing center for the Schuyler copper mine, then the largest copper supply in the country. In addition, Main Street was a major thoroughfare for troop movements going south to Monmouth, Princeton or Trenton, which must pass below the old Dutch church tower. We were high on the British "watch list". Much attention was focused on our activities.

In our defense, the Second Essex Regiment, mainly men of the village, was charged with the task of defending the road, the river, the village and the tunnel to the mine. No easy chore was that. British troops were stationed across the river in Arlington watching the mine entrance. Homes along the river were within musket-shot range of British patrols along the Pasaic. Going to the barn to milk a cow or fetching water from the well were life-threatening activities for local citizens. But watchmen and snipers stood guard in the old church tower and the guardhouse at the church had "minute-men" at-the-ready.

The old church tower served the patriot's cause on numerous occasions. Several clashes of troupes occurred within sight of the tower, including the Battle of Second River. History tends to blur these various military actions into a single "Battle of Second River", but it appears that there were several. After the battle at Fort Lee, General Washington was in full retreat, trying to save what was left of his army. British General Howe was in hot pursuit, intent upon Washington's capture and ending the Revolutionary War right here. But the militia men of Second River, together with the Second Essex Regiment and rear-guard detachments from Washington's army were not going to let the war end in defeat here on our turf.

Washington's army made it to Newark where he hoped to stop for rest, new provisions and reinforcements. Sharp, patriot eyes watched for Howe's advance from the old church tower in Second River. Advanced elements of Howe's army were spotted and our citizen army jumped into action. Such a ruckus of musket and cannon fire were arrayed against the enemy, that the forward units, unsure of the size of the opposing force, pulled back to Howe's main army, thus buying time for the patriots.

Thomas Paine, noted author of "Common Sense", was traveling with Washington's army during the retreat. In his recollections of the event, he tells us that twice, detachments were sent out from Newark to join the local militia in these holding actions. [Some accounts report that it was General Cornwallis in pursuit, but we are trusting to Paine's recollections here]. In all, Washington rested four days in Newark, then continued his retreat. The British forces, much larger in number, eventually broke through the lines, but our townsmen and the old Dutch church had done their job.

In September of 1777 there was an engagement which is most frequently referred to as *the* "Battle of Second River". It is for this engagement that a memorial plaque has been erected in the park. The British intended to expand their invasion with a larger force in central Jersey. But first, they had to pass through Second River and beneath the old church tower. Eyes in the tower saw the advance and sounded the alarm. Under the direction of Captains Hornblower, Joralemon, Rutgers and Rutan, a defense was prepared. Skirmishes went on for two days. It began with an artillery barrage of our town followed by musket and cannon battles in the streets. September 14th turned into an all-day pitched battle. With patriot reinforcements pouring in from neighboring communities, front lines eventually took shape near to Mill Street and Union Avenue. The British forces, overwhelming in numbers, eventually broke through. But once again, the local militia had succeeded in delaying the advance and weakening the invading army.

The old Dutch church, icon of the patriot's liberty, survived the war. It also survived natures wrath when in 1819 it was heavily damaged when struck by a tornado, but was quickly refurbished. However, it may not survive the apathy of our modern citizens. It stands today, neglected, ravaged by time, weakened by the pounding of pile-drivers constructing a bridge a few yards away. It is in delicate condition. If we, like the citizens of Boston who preserved the Old North Church of Paul Revere fame, value our heritage of liberty, we will step forward now to save this last remaining icon of our involvement in the War for Independence. Or, will we be the generation that failed ?

Blizzard of '48

2008-01-21T17:53:00.000-05:00

It was sixty years ago this month, in January of 1948, that the goddess of nature decided to treat us to a snowfall. We were happy to see it. We were kids then and enjoyed frolicking in the snow so the goddess of nature gave us some more. As we played, the snow kept coming. Then more snow came down, and wind, and sleet, and it wasn't quite as much fun anymore because now the snow was above our knees. The wind starting howling, freezing our cheeks and the sleet was stinging our faces. Mom made us come inside; the fun was over. And the snow, it kept coming. After a while, that fluffy white stuff we had enjoyed started to take on an ominous look. From the front window of our cottage I watched as it rose up to the window sill. The wind was forming great snowdrifts. After a time, you couldn't see out of the window any more. The lights went out ! For the first time I learned what it was like to live by candlelight just like the pioneers. Now that was a new adventure ! Children love scary adventures and there I was in the middle of one, flickering shadows on the wall, creaking noises, howling wind and all. It was what history would call The Great Blizzard of '48.

Even after it stopped, the adventure continued. The powerful wind had created some impressive drifts and our house had been on the receiving end. When the front door was opened, my goodness, the outside world wasn't there anymore . . . just a wall of snow !
The task of digging us out fell upon my Dad. I volunteered to help with my little toy shovel, but Mom said, no. She was sure I would get buried in an avalanche. I watched. There he was, hour after hour, one man and a shovel against a mountain of snow. Our house was not close to the street. A long path was needed. But, after what seemed like forever, the path, or should I say tunnel, was done and I went outside for the first time. The path looked like a snow tunnel to me, the top was way over my head, which didn't take much at the age I was then. But what really impressed me was that it was over my Dad's head, too! That was a snow storm to remember.

The town, as a whole had not fared well. Media accounts of the storm and the aftermath reported :

"Families were reduced to primitive status as lights and heat were lost for some time after the storm."

"Washington Avenue was in the worst condition it has been in since it was a cow path."

"Three plows and a road scraper were brought in from a contractor in Passaic. By 4:00 A.M the following morning, one lane in each direction had been opened on the avenue. Afterwards, traffic moved along at 5 mph. Commuters, hoping to go to work, waited at length between the mountains of snow for buses crawling along through axel deep slush. Cars were stranded and abandoned everywhere"

"The entire police and fire department were on 24 hour duty shifts looking for people who may have been trapped and trying to restore some sort of civil order to the town. The entire police auxilary was mobilized. Live power lines were down in many places. Two of the three fire alarm systems in town were out of order. The Red Cross was providing cots and blankets for the much over-worked police and firemen."

The huge volume of snow and the great drifts made the clean-up and recovery a Herculean task. Most side roads had been slowly opened by a community effort, armies of neighbors with shovels. For days, the chink-chink-chink of chain-clad car tires and the scraping of shovels were the most common sounds. Cars were made of heavier stuff in those days so many were able to move once the roads were partially cleared but chains were mandatory if you had hopes of going more than ten feet through the deep ruts.

Eventually, Spring came and we forgot the hardships brought on by the blizzard, but for long afterwards we swapped stories of our experiences during the storm. But I really do think it is better to remember 'The Blizzard of '48" through the mists of time, because it actually wasn't all that much fun to be there.

Christmas Dinner, 1697

2007-12-06T01:49:00.000-05:00

A quick glance at the calendar makes us suddenly realize that the holiday season is rushing at us even faster than we may first have thought. It's nearly time ! It is nearly time for gift giving, which is fun, but, better still . . . it's time to eat ! Forget about diets. This is when the very best, most treasured recipes are brought out from safe-keeping, when those cryptic words on paper are magically crafted into wondrous meals in that wizard's laboratory, Mom's kitchen. Each family has it's traditional holiday dishes, without which the season would be incomplete. How many recipes are there that have been handed down for more generations than anyone can count ? How long has this been going on ? Well, here in the old Village of Second River, this will be our 334th Christmas and our 334th sumptuous holiday feast. In those ancient days, so long ago, the colony was prosperous, the farmland was rich and generous, the fields and streams were abundant with game and fish and the markets were filled to bursting with exotic food stuffs from around the world brought in by an endless fleet of wooden, tall-masted merchant ships. The housewives of the village could produce a Christmas feast no less impressive than those to be found in the modern world.

The old Dutchmen and their wives were a friendly and generous lot. They would not have hesitated an instant before inviting us to sit with them and partake of the feast. It would be marvelous if we could accept the invitation, break bread with them and unite the generations who have lived on this land. Perhaps, in the shimmering mists of our inner theater, we can do just that. It's easy really, just contemplate the steam rising from your cup of coffee, drift back a little and ... yes ! There it is. It's 1697 and we are on the main street of our thriving little village on Christmas day.
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The Dutch word for Christmas was Kerstfeest which, translated literally, means Christmas feast and oh, what a feast it was ! You must imagine yourself inside a warm, comfortable, cozy Dutch home. There was the distinct smell of burning wood from a crackling fire in the kitchen hearth. The house was filled with a delicatessen of aromas; roasting meats, wonderful soups, cakes and cookies. The rooms were illuminated by flickering candlelight and glowing oil lamps lit to a holiday brightness.

When you are getting hungry, thoughts of food can be captivating. When you are quite hungry and surrounded by the vapors of a roasting goose and baking bread, it can sharply focus your attention on the demands of your stomach. When excellent food is before you on the table, it will require your very best manners to restrain yourself as the master of the house offers a lengthy grace proper to the season. But, oh, how that first taste of erwtensoep will seem like a gift from above when you are finally released from restraints.

Many hungry eyes and eager appetites sat around the table as the first course came forth. By tradition, it would most likely be brown bean soup, bruinebonensoep, or the even more popular, erwtensoep (pea soup). It was commonly believed that a bowl of erwtensoep tasted better when it was freezing outside.

The ultimate Dutch wintertime food was stamppot, a mixture of mashed potatoes blended with pumpkin and other vegetables such as carrots or parsnips or, depending on the family’s tastes, perhaps onions and cabbage. The main course may have included any or all of the available meats; goose, venison, mussels over rice, turkey, ham or rabbit. An ample supply of bisschopswijn (bishops wine), a drink little different from a modern sangria, could be expected. One would eat until one could eat no more. But, there was more.

There were the desserts and pastries to consider. There were speculaas, a highly flavored buttery, spice cookie that were traditionally made in carved wooden molds. Marzipan was an almond confectionary molded into entertaining shapes. And don’t forget the candy. Taai-taai, was a clove and cinnamon flavored honey-and-sugar hard candy. A genuine favorite was borstplaat, fudge, that would have been flavored with either chocolate or coffee depending on which had come into the harbor markets in greater supply.

If you were still thinking of food late in the evening, you would not be disappointed. A traditional late-evening snack of apple fritters and doughnuts served up with steaming spiced milk, coffee or hot chocolate would ensure that you did not go to bed hungry. Indeed, Christmas dinner in the 17th century was the sort of thing of which legends are made.
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The steam has stopped rising from our coffee. It's time to return to our own century, or, would you care for a second cup ?
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It's time for last minute Christmas shopping! Don't forget to buy a copy of "A Dutch Christmas in Old Second River 1697" at our bookstore. It makes a really nice gift. It includes a chapter on Dutch colonial recipes.

Cherry Blossom Trees in Autumn

2007-11-19T18:03:00.000-05:00

Those tens of thousands of visitors who come to town each Spring to view our Cherry Blossom tree display are missing out on a real treat when they do not return in late October and early November to see the explosive Autumn display of vibrant colors afforded by our trees. Fall foliage is pleasant to see anywhere, however, our trees offer a unique opportunity to see a stunning array of rich, contrasting shades of nature's very best artwork. There are many different species of trees in the park, each one with it own way of celebrating the harvest season. There are more shades of red than you can count blended with plum hues, yellows, bright orange, burnt orange, amber and elegant shades of copper. Sometimes you see several colors on the same tree. All the new, young trees planted this spring are already making their contribution, now, to this fall extravaganza. Autumn has come late this year. The weather has been so warm that a few of the younger trees were fooled into reacting to the Spring-like temperatures and began blossoming. It was really strange to see cherry blossoms in October ! Better see the Autumn colors quickly though, as in springtime, the display doesn't last long. It would be a pity to miss it.

This second pageant of color is one we reserve for ourselves. If we were the tourist center that we should be, there would be a steady stream of visitors sharing it with us. We certainly have ample opportunity to be a thriving tourist center, not only for our famous cherry blossoms, but as the acknowledged birthplace of the American Industrial Revolution and as one of the very early Dutch settlements in New Netherland, not to mention the Battle of Second River where our stalwart citizens stood off the British army in a holding action while General George Washington made a hasty retreat to save his troupes and his neck. But, alas, no one has attempted to develop our potential. I guess the town just doesn't need the extra business, besides, it would only crowd our streets with tourists wanting to spend money. Perhaps it is better this way; we enjoy this Autumn display in peace and quiet. Some folks may think it odd to put the words 'peaceful' and 'tranquil' in the same sentence with Belleville, but, if you have not taken the time to spend a quiet Autumn afternoon among the cherry blossom trees, you are missing one of the highlights of living in old Second River.

We can look forward to the next couple of years when two thousand more trees will be added to the collection. It is just getting better and better.

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Be sure to check out our web store for some great Christmas gift ideas !

You can now find items from or about Belleville that are for sale on eBay. Look in the upper right corner of this page under "Links" and click on "Belleville on eBay". You will then see a complete list of all currently available items. Check back often; the list changes every few days.

Headlines - 1929

2007-11-07T01:20:00.000-05:00

1929 was the trailing edge of the roaring twenties, the twilight of the Jazz Age, that bewildering era of affluence and "anything goes" self-indulgence. Popular music included such hit tunes as "Puttin' on the Ritz" and "Star Dust". Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians played "Auld Lang Syne" for the first time that New Years eve. Towards the end of the year, the stock market crash would put an end to the affluence and usher in the Great Depression.

And what was happening in conservative, law-abiding Belleville during this pivotal year? Let's look at some of the leading headlines to see what was important to folks then.

Police Ask For Authority To Watch Cafes

Dateline Belleville, NJ - January 11, 1929

In an effort to obtain for Belleville police authority to raid alleged speakeasies, Police Chief Michael J. Flynn Tuesday night asked the Town Commission to enact an ordinance requiring soft drink parlors to be licensed as cafes. This, the chief said, will permit police to raid suspected places and bring the proprietors before the local recorder. Under the present town ordinance, he added, police are without this authority. If the proposed ordinance is passed a maximum fine of $200 can be imposed on offenders, he explained. The chief's recommendations will be considered by the commission.

License Is Refused for Junk Business, Dealer Not A Citizen

Dateline Belleville, NJ - February 1, 1929

The Belleville Town Commission Tuesday again refused to grant a junk license to a local dealer. A town ordinance provides that a junk dealer must be a citizen. During the past six months, the dealer, who is not an American citizen, has been arrested twice and fined $25 each time for operating without a license. The Chief Justice recently denied the dealer a writ to restrain the Belleville authorities from interfering with his operations.

Snowball Barrage Brings Fines For 5

Dateline Belleville, NJ - March 1, 1929

Five young men are minus $2 each today because of their snowball-throwing proclivities. They were fined that sum by the town recorder in Belleville Police Court Monday following a complaint made by the owner of a dry goods store at 126 Franklin Street. The owner said the boys pelted his windows and customers with snowballs to the detriment of his business.

Union Avenue Property Owners Against Paving Street

Dateline Belleville, NJ - August 2,1929

A special meeting was held Tuesday night for the purpose of discussing with the residents of Union Avenue the proposed taking over of that street by the County and the sharing of the cost of improvements. Residents objected to paying any assessment because the people living on the street would derive no benefit from the paving. A petition signed by 47 property owners was presented. They said, "Why should we improve a street which is alright today in our opinion ?"

Dateline Belleville, NJ - August 9, 1929

The Board of Commissioners at the weekly meeting held last night, passed a resolution rescinding a resolution asking the County Board of Freeholders to take over Union Avenue from Belleville Avenue to Joralemon Street and curb and pave it. Mayor Kenworthy explained that inasmuch as the property owners on the street did not want the improvement at this time, the Board felt that the matter could wait.

Kindergarten is a "Useless Expenditure"

Dateline Belleville, NJ - September 20, 1929

"Kindergartens are an absolutely useless expenditure," declared the School Commissioner at a meeting of the Belleville Board of Education Tuesday night. This statement was made following a discussion of the attendance in the kindergartens, the first of which started in Belleville a year ago and to which three have been added since. "To my mind the kindergarten is a serious mistake. The expense is a burden to the taxpayers," he added. A dissenting commissioner said, "the kindergarten is by far the most expensive branch of the schools, but I believe the children get a corresponding benefit."

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days of auld lang syne?

###~Start your Christmas Shopping at our on-line store !~###

Belleville's Bones

2007-10-23T02:07:00.000-04:00

Few towns are as fortunate as we for our wealth of tales to be told about headless nightriders, witches, ghosts, screaming spirits and pirates. With Halloween close at hand, it seems just the right time to carefully, reverently open up the dusty, old tome of Second River's ancient legends and re-tell one of it's best stories.

This one dates back to Revolutionary War days and relates to us the fate of a local resident who was accused, either justly or unjustly, of being a spy for the British forces and how, in his own unique way, he is still among us.

Andrew was known to be a good farmer in our fair village back in the days of George Washington's War. He was also known to be a remarkably good listener, listening with focused attention whenever others spoke. A good listener is always welcomed among people who loved to talk and who love to be heard. Because of this trait, Andrew was gladly admitted to many circles. He was an attentive listener whenever a group gathered to discuss the matters of the day, always nodding, smiling agreeably, saying nothing.

Now, it was well known that there were both patriots and loyalists among the villagers, sometimes even families were divided on the issues of war. Sometimes Andrew would hear a thing or two that was not meant for one group or the other to know about. Sometimes it was thought that he listened even when he had not been invited to join a conversation.

The war was a day-to-day affair in the Village of Second River. While great battles may have been fought elsewhere, the war in Second River was a matter of dodging flying lead balls as one went about ones daily chores. Fetching a pail of water at the well was a risky bit of business. A contingent of British troops were arrayed across the Passaic to restrict access to the Schuyler copper mine and to keep an eye on the village since it was such a hot-bed of patriot activity. With these adversaries so close to each other, neither side could resist the opportunity to send a musket ball whizzing across the river when a head would appear.

Though watchmen were posted in the old Dutch Church steeple and sentries guarded the river front, all those folks who were within musket-shot range near the river lived a nervous existence. It was decided that a raid across the river to push back the snipers to a respectful distance was in the best interests of the villagers. The raid was planned in absolute secrecy. It would be a total surprise. In the quiet hours of a moonless night, local members of the Second Essex Regiment slid across the Passaic to root out the hornets nest. Ambush ! The British were waiting. It took the very best military skills of the patriots to scramble back across the river.

"This is an outrage", shouted the local General. "How did they know ?" Someone was needed to blame for this ! Surely it must be someone's fault that this perfect plan didn't work. A soldier, intent upon calming the General's rage suggested that maybe old Andrew, who heard so many things, was to blame. It seemed like a good idea to quickly find a culprit to sooth the General's anger and embarrassment. Another soldier volunteered that Andrew was sometimes thought to be seen listening at window sills to hear what might be going on inside a house. It must be him ! Indeed !

The raiding party rushed to Andrew's farm. They stormed his house. They roused him out of bed. "It wasn't me", protested Andrew after hearing the accusations. "It wasn't me", he said as they dragged him out to the lane. "It wasn't me", he insisted as they conducted a proper military trial right there in the lane before his farmhouse. They took old Andrew to the banks of the Second River by his home and they hanged him right there from a crooked limbed tree. It is said that the last thing old Andrew gurgled while suspended from the hangman's noose was, "It . . . wasn't . . . me !"

They left old Andrew there 'til his bones glistened white as a warning to others who might be tempted to hear too much. But old Andrew had long gone to the otherworld where the Brethren there were quite surprised to see him since he had not been summoned. When pressed for an explanation for his presence, all he could utter in response was, "It wasn't me"!

Now, the Brethren of the otherworld have ways and means generally beyond our ken. They agreed amongst themselves that Andrew's spirit should be returned to Second River to prove his innocence, if he could. Thus it was that on many a night afterwards, frightened villagers reported seeing old Andrew's bones there, letting himself down from the tree and walking about the village, listening wherever he could, intent upon learning who really did spoil the raid on that quiet moonless night.

Now, it's not that the villagers were a superstitious lot but after a number of sightings, they thought it the Christian thing to do to have the bravest among them take down those bones and bury them. And when the sightings continued, they chopped down the tree as well. But still his bones were seen skulking about the village, listening to every conversation.

It is said that Andrew is still here in town, listening as you speak. He may lurk beneath your own window sill, listening to everything you say. Maybe you are a relative of the one who told and spoiled that raid during George Washington's War. You can tell when he is near. His rattling bones sound like hollow wood wind-chimes as he moves and, given his advanced age, he tends to creak a bit. Or, you may see just a glint of light as the moon shines on his polished white bones. And for goodness sake, be careful what you say. You should, at least, be very careful if you go out on Halloween. Old Andrew is not the only ghost from Belleville's past that still lingers in our village.

Visit our website. There are now Post Cards from Belleville available for you.

NJP

Morris Canal

2007-10-11T12:58:00.000-04:00

If we reach back, let's say about 177 years, we will find something very exciting happening here in Belleville. It is 1830 and the Morris canal is coming. And, it was going to be routed through Belleville. Folks were beginning to think prosperous thoughts. Five years earlier, the Erie Canal had been completed in New York. It was a commercial success so, naturally, it seemed reasonable to build a canal across New Jersey. The Morris Canal would connect the Delaware and Passaic rivers opening up easy trade routes for enterprising business men who could now ship goods to Philadelphia, Newark, New York or even to the Great Lakes region via the Hudson River and Erie Canal. The canal formed part of a network that would connect Philadelphia to Chicago by a convenient inland waterway and Belleville was on the route.

During an early design stage, it was intended that the canal would end in Belleville. One design had the canal flow into Second River from Bloomfield and then terminate where Second River flows into the Passaic. Belleville would have exploded with commerce ! However, lobbyists from Newark argued that, even though it would make the canal longer and more expensive, their city was the logical terminus. Of course, we know who won the argument. Perhaps it was best, we would have become a major port city if the canal had ended here.

It would be the Soho and Silver Lake sections of town which would benefit most. During construction, labor would be needed to help build it and when complete, labor would be needed to maintain it, handle the mules that pulled the canal barges and to load the barges carrying local goods to market. The canal would enter Belleville from Bloomfield. It would flow alongside the Second River where Montgomery Street in Bloomfield is today, intersect Harrison Street in Belleville, briefly flow alongside Mill Street, then head south toward Silver Lake. The closest point to the lake was where Franklin Avenue intersects Franklin Street. Then it would make its way to Branch Brook Park and through Newark to its final destination, the Passaic River near Newark Bay. Aqueducts would be needed to carry the canal over top of both the Second River and the river flowing from Silver Lake to Second River, both of which were intersected by the route of the canal.

The canal was completed in 1830 and was fully open to traffic by 1832. For the next 60 years, the canal was a great economic lift for the town. Coal came in from the mines in Pennsylvania to power factories that, for the first time, did not have to be located directly on Second River for power. Outgoing were the products of the factories, mills and farms. Ice was harvested from Silver Lake and shipped to Newark and New York. By the 1870's almost every city residence had an "ice box" for food storage. The market was lucrative. Belleville, already economically successful, was now growing even faster.

The canal served other than commercial purposes. What a grand place for ice skating in winter when the waterway was frozen. Summer would find youngsters rafting along the canal or adults rowing canoes on Sundays when there was no barge traffic. The mule paths made great bridal paths for horseback riding or trails for bicycling. A short walk to Berkley Avenue in Bloomfield would reward the hiker with an opportunity to watch the workings of Lock 15E, located there, where the barges were raised or lowered.

Nothing lasts forever. By the 1890's, railroads were replacing the canal for shipping. It took five days to travel from Phillipsburg on the Delaware to Newark via the canal. A steam locomotive could do it in eight hours. It no longer made economic sense to use the canal. By the beginning of the twentieth century the canal had been abandoned by commerce. In 1924 the canal was "officially" abandoned by the State and could be filled-in as local communities might require. It's a pity that the State lacked the foresight to continue to maintain the canal as a recreational facility. If they had, we would still be enjoying it today.

There has never been a shortage of heroes in Belleville when the need arises, even on the spur of the moment. On a delightful first day of Summer in 1907, two young ladies, Josephine Schneider and Lillian Hock, both 15 years old, were passing a leisurely afternoon by sailing toy boats on the canal. Dare-devils that they were, they urged each other to wade across the canal. Step-by-step, down the gradual slope they ventured. Well, we've all heard about sliding down a slippery slope. Before they knew it, the girls were in over their heads, flailing about and screaming for help. A Soho resident, William Hearne, who had been walking along the canal, heard their cries, quickly dove into the canal and rescued Josephine. At the same time, Edward Sibley, himself a young lad of just 13, who had been swimming in the canal nearby, rushed to the scene. The Sibley lad was attempting to rescue Lillian, but the terrified lass sank them both to the bottom with her struggles. She had an iron grip around his neck making his efforts doubly difficult. With perseverance, the lad managed to drag her to shore; a job well done. The two very wet and trembling girls were able to go home. We never learn, though, if the girls ever went playing by the canal again.

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It's time for Christmas shopping! Don't forget to buy a copy of "A Dutch Christmas in Old Second River 1697" at our bookstore. It makes a really nice gift.

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Can't get enough of Belleville's long and colorful history? Visit Mr. Anthony Buccino's site "Old Belleville".

NJP

It's Just A Party 2007

2007-09-14T15:15:00.001-04:00

On Thursday, September 13, 2007, the Township of Belleville held its annual block party. All were invited including neighbors from nearby towns. There were large crowds of friendly people, good food, good music, excellent entertainment and so much fun for the kids. Having just researched for my recent book how the original village settlers entertained themselves, I am absolutely certain that every one of the old Dutchmen, their wives and all of their children would have come to this event, thoroughly enjoyed it and helped to show us how to have a good time. It was a really good place to live then and still is now.

For anyone who missed the fun and excitement, here is a display of a few selected photos. I am trying-out a new photo display technique. Click on a small picture at the bottom and it will appear next. Click on the large picture and it will freeze for viewing. Click again and the display will continue. Hope you enjoy it.

There is a new photo display of cherry blossoms caught in a snow storm over at the website. Here is a link to the page, there are eight snowstorm pictures about half-way down the page. Click on each small thumbnail to see the large version.
http://normanprice.com/_wsn/page2.html

Madman Assaults Belleville

2007-07-25T00:01:00.000-04:00

On a Tuesday morning in January of 1899, a madman armed with a club assaulted Belleville leaving a trail of injury and ruin. A crowd pursued him but none could stop him until finally, one man subdued him and then rescued him from a lynch mob. This is a story best told by those who saw it happen. Here is a contemporary account :

Belleville, N.J., Tuesday, Jan 31, 1899 - Thomas Reynolds, a brawny laborer, ran wild in Belleville this morning.

Reynolds had been sick for some days at his home on Williams Street. His mother and brother, with whom he lived, noticed that he acted queerly, and determined to keep a close watch on him. About 11 o'clock this morning, he escaped. Arming himself with a club, started for the center of the town.

Reynolds entered John Manning's place, on John Street, where he beat two children into insensibility and smashed the furniture and windows. He started down William Street. Near Bridge Street he struck down Nellie Flanagan, twelve year old daughter of James Flanagan, badly injuring her. A crowd of about a hundred began following him.

Near the Stamar residence, Reynolds struck down Mrs. Coyne, making a deep gash in her head, and beating her black and blue about the body. He continued down William Street, and met Mrs. Cummusky. He struck her on the arm, breaking it. Mrs. Cummusky managed to get away from him before he could harm her more. At the Belleville Building and Loan office, Reynolds smashed the whole store front of plate glass. John Ashworth's store was similarly treated. Reynolds struck wildly at Ashworth, who threw up his arm and kept the blow from descending upon his head. Before Ashworth could grapple with Reynolds the latter had run away.

Peter Truester, a barber of William Street had just left his shop when Reynolds began a fierce attack on him. The barber received several severe knocks on the head before Reynolds turned and ran away.

The crowd increased, stones were hurled at Reynolds without effect. No one would attempt to capture him, none of the town officials were in sight. Reynolds broke the windows in Haggerty's Hotel on the corner of Washington Avenue. He crossed the street to Jaroleman's butcher's store where he smashed in the store front.

Jaroleman ran out to stop him. Reynolds struck at him with the club. Jaroleman is a stalwart man and closed with his antagonist. Reynolds wrenched himself away and continued down the street.

Reynolds went to Bennett's bicycle store, where he broke all the windows. Mrs. Bennett, who was in the store with the children, fainted when she saw him, and the children were badly frightened. Mrs. Mary Hannon, who was standing near by, received a blow on the head which knocked her down.

Reynolds went to Blake's store. The crowd stoned him. He turned and started back up Washington Avenue. Near William Street, John McGuirk ran up behind him and tried to snatch the club from him, but Reynolds turned and nearly severed McGuirk's thumb with a knife he also carried. He then went to John Street , turned and continued up the hill.

Jay La Faucherie, the son of Justice of the Peace La Faucherie, finally got near enough to make a grab at the fugitive. Reynolds turned and swung his club at La Faucherie, but the latter eluded the blow and leaped upon the madman. There was a short, violent struggle, in which La Faucherie was aided by several men in the crowd, and Reynolds was overmastered. A rope was procured and Reynolds was tied.

Someone said the Flanagan child was dead. There were cries of lynching. Someone brought a rope and tried to put it around Reynold's neck. The cooler heads in the crowd tried to prevent the others from hanging Reynolds, but they were thrust aside and the madman's chances looked slim. A wagon happened to be passing, and La Faucherie and two others suddenly grabbed Reynolds and threw him into it. The horse was whipped up and driven to the jail. Reynolds is now in a padded cell in the county jail.

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The new book, "A Dutch Christmas in Old Second River" is now available at www.normanprice.com

Great Race of '49

2007-07-06T17:58:00.000-04:00

There was the rolling roar of noises one always hears when a large crowd has gathered. More than twelve hundred very excited townspeople pressed along the edges of Greylock Parkway on this 11th day of June to watch the Great Race of 1949. The road, closed by police, was temporarily re-named "Greylock Speedway" in honor of the spectacular event about to take place. At the center of attention were 20 of Belleville's elite automotive engineers and racecar drivers, between the ages of 9 and 15, who were about to test their skills in front of this huge, anxious crowd.

Each gravity powered racecar, under the contest rules, was entirely built by the young man who would drive it. Each vehicle had to pass a safety inspection by the race committee, especially the brakes and steering systems !

In addition to the prestige of being the best engineer and fastest driver in town, there were serious prizes on the line. There were two beautiful gold trophies to be awarded to the divisional champions (9-11 year old and 12-15 year old divisions). The champions also received merchandise certificates from a local sporting goods store, awarded by the Belleville BPA. Medals were awarded to first, second and third place finishers in each race. Every participant received a racecar driver pin. In addition, four young lads, selected on the basis of good sportsmanship, would be escorted to a Yankees - Tigers game at Yankee Stadium.

It was now 1:00 pm, time to start. Races started on a raised ramp ensuring that maximum speed was reached as soon as possible. A pair of entrants were poised on the starting ramp, tense, eyes straight ahead. The green flag dropped ... go! They're off ! The crowd was silent, only the sound of chattering wheels and wind sweeping over the hand-made chassis' could be heard as they rushed by at a screaming 20 mph. The checkered flag dropped, and the winner is ...

At the end of the day, it was young Master Keller, whose ole Number 14, crossing the finish line at a sizzling 24 mph, who was declared champion of the 9-11 year olds. Young Mr. Greulich, driving his big Number 5, "Silver Bullet", was named the older division champion. During the day, a hotly contested event between two lads had brought the checkered flags down simultaneously. The race was repeated. The flags dropped simultaneously again. The race was finally decided in heats against the clock. Racing is not without its hazards. One driver lost a wheel half-way through the course. He bailed out. His car careened into the crowd. No spectators were injured but the driver came away with a skinned knee.

Indianapolis may have its "Indy 500", but on this day, Belleville was the proud home of the "Greylock Two-Tenths". Two-tenths of a mile, that was the length of the raceway set out on perfectly hilly Greylock Parkway. The event was organized primarily by the Belleville Times - News however, many town businesses and citizens contributed to its success. It was a wonderful event. It was just one of the many reasons why post-war Belleville was such a really good place in which to grow-up.

A Note To Readers:

The new book, "A Dutch Christmas in Old Second River 1697" has finally arrived from the printer and is now available. Learn about holiday customs and traditions as they were practiced in our town more that 300 years ago. You can find a slideshow of sample pages and a description by clicking this link -

www.normanprice.com

Camp Ro-Li

2007-06-19T19:40:00.000-04:00

There was a vision for Belleville. It was a grand vision. Belleville was to become a superior place in which to live and raise children; a model for what living in America should be like. The vision came into being during WWII and was meant to be implemented at the start of the post-war period. It was conceived by the great industrial leaders at Walter Kidde, Wallace & Tiernan and Eastwood Nealley.

During the threatening days of WWII, Belleville was a fine-tuned war machine. It’s fighting men excelled on the battle fronts. Its workers excelled at producing copious quantities of high quality war materials. Its citizens excelled at the tasks of gathering critically scarce materials, raising funds and creating a civil defense program to protect this high-profile- target town. Belleville was to be richly rewarded for its spearhead aggressiveness during the war.

Three five-star Generals of the home front; Walter Kidde, Martin Tiernan and Harry Specht (of Eastwood Nealley) joined forces to create the Belleville Foundation. They provided their prodigious organizing skills and considerable wealth accrued from war contracts for the task of creating this foundation which would launch our town into a post war role-model position to lead America in peace as it was in war. These men developed an eight-point program which would accomplish this goal for the town. It was a program for which they intended to provide the seed money to implement and their personal persuasive skills to ensure its success. One of the highlights of the program was to create as many as possible open space recreation areas for both adults and children. Recognizing the natural human need to avoid confining spaces, they provided the funds and, acting through the town council, commissioned the National Recreation Association to develop a master plan. It was a really good plan.

Although the post war demands of real estate developers blocked much of the plan’s best features, there was one element which was carried out in stellar fashion to demonstrate what might have been if the entire plan had been achieved. It was Camp Ro-Li. The Belleville Foundation purchased a tract of land on the shores of Glen Wild Lake where a summer camp for the town’s children was created. It had been originally known as Camp Demarest, named for the famous Bloomfield resident Charles Demarest. Already a functioning summer camp, it needed few improvements to make it suitable for its new purpose. The Foundation funded the purchase price, remodeling costs and the first two year’s operating expenses after which the administration was given over to the Rotary Club and Lions Club to operate as a joint venture. The name of the camp came from merging these two names ROtary – LIons. It was a wonderful place.

For many years, beginning in 1946, the children of Belleville, ages 8 to 13, could, for a modest fee, spend two weeks at the camp. And what a time they had ! There was swimming (with Red Cross instructors in attendance), boating, hiking, nature exploration, Indian pow-pows, crafts, theater, camp fires, story-telling, barbecues, marshmallow roasts, campfire sing-a-longs at overnight campsites in the woods, treasure hunts, movies, talent shows and just so much more. There were sports including archery, fishing, baseball and volleyball.

Six children would bunk together with a counselor in a wooden cabin by the lake. There were ten cabins in all. The camp was on 5 wooded acres adjacent to a State forest preserve with many nature trails. It had 400 feet of lake frontage with docks, rowboats, canoes, a diving board, areas for both advanced and beginning swimmers and a fishing pier. In addition to the ten cabins, there was a lodge and dining hall, a trading post (for buying life’s necessities such as candy or post cards to send home to mom and dad), craft cabins, nature study cabins and a dispensary with a nurse always in attendance. This camp is remembered so very fondly by those who were there.

It is very likely that there are still quite a few “grown-ups” in town who went to camp there. If the reader has not been there, ask around town; you may hear some pretty wild stories :) .

Your author here present, is unaware of what year the camp ceased operations. It was still there in 1969 and probably through the ‘70s. If any reader here knows when the camp closed, please drop me a line. And, if any reader would like to share their personal recollections of the camp, to be used in a future article here on the Blog, send them along. Be sure to tell me if you want your name mentioned or if you would rather your story be anonymous. Use this e-Mail address : pl90525@yahoo.com

Memorial Day 2007

2007-05-27T20:58:00.000-04:00

Memorial Day 2007 - a time proper for remembering the great sacrifices of American veterans who served in battle and, in the opinion of this writer, remembering the massive efforts in Belleville on the home front during WWII. While generalizing about servicemen from all times is a legitimate way to commemorate the day, I believe that narrowing the focus to specific events helps to make it more real. In this essay I want to put you on the streets of town in the early days of WWII to let you look about and see what is going on . . .

It is June 6, 1942. It has been barely 6 months since Pearl Harbor. The nation is at war, New Jersey is at war, Belleville is at war. The war has just become more personal here. The first war casualty from Belleville in an enemy attack had occurred two weeks earlier and was announced in this week’s paper. Harry Fredricks, Jr., 26-year-old naval gunnery crew chief was lost when his ship was sunk by a German U-Boat in the Gulf of Mexico. Another member of his crew, a 17-year-old gunner, was lost when he refused to abandon ship, but stayed at his gun, firing back at the submarine. It was said to be the first time one of our ships was able to return fire on a U-Boat prowling in the gulf.

The Jensen family of Continental Avenue held a picnic – hot dog roast as a send-off party for their son who was leaving to enter the Army Air Corp. The Gimbel family of Joralemon Street were bidding farewell to their son, a BHS graduate, who was returning to the Air Corp after a ten day furlough. The Kants family of Cortlandt Street have just returned from visiting their son, an Army Sargent stationed at Camp Shelby in Mississippi. The DiLeo family of William Street has a son attending Air Corp Officer Training school where the professional abilities of young men were being re-directed to the war effort. The young man had been an attorney for the past 13 years. Spencer Jones, son of the famed Belleville architect, has enlisted in the Army and is now at Camp Shelby in Mississippi.

The Belleville Defense Council Committee Meetings schedule was just announced. There were 16 sub-committees covering every aspect of the town’s defense and home front contribution including; Defense Council, Police Reserves, Fire Reserves, Vulnerability, Public Relations and Education, Transportation and Evacuation, Health and First Aid, Supplies, Demolition – Rescue and Repairs, Communications, Air Raid Precautions, Decontamination, Consumer Interest, Fair Rents, General Commodities, Salvage

Belleville’s Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts, already much involved in the war effort, had collected thousands of tin cans from town households for which they were commended by the Belleville Defense Council salvage committee. It was noted that the material contained in 800 cans is enough to provide soldering for an entire bomber.

The Food Fair grocery store at 524 Washington Avenue was, in its weekly ad, encouraging patrons to shop together to save on gas rationing coupons. The Peoples National Bank of 237 Washington Avenue – opposite the Post Office (that’s the old Post Office) is encouraging patrons to pay bills by check to cut down on using gas ration points used in driving to offices where bills are customarily paid in person. New Jersey Bell Telephone was announcing that by order of the War Production Board, manufacturing of telephone equipment was suspended in favor of production of war materials

There were those whose advertising seemed a bit more self serving in what appeared to be attempts to cash-in on the enormous outpouring of patriotism and the general fears about war. A lumber company on Cortlandt street advertised “durability for the crisis”, home remodeling “to strengthen your home for national defense. Call us for estimates”
Acme Supermarket is encouraging customers to “help win the war” by using their own shopping bags to conserve paper. Materials for extinguishing incendiary bombs and fires were being sold at a local store at 60 cents for a five-pound bag.

The U. S. Navy was advertising for enlistments of men, ages 17 to 50, with construction experience. Enlistment period was for the duration of the war.

The Belleville Defense Council was seeking nurses aides to relieve registered nurses from mundane duties and place them at the disposal of the Defense Council.

Seven students from Belleville have just completed Defense Engineering courses at Newark College of Engineering.

The consolidation of Belleville’s and Nutley’s Rationing Boards, disapproved by both towns, would go forward in the interest of co-operation with the Federal government.

The meeting of the American Legion Post at the recreation house was cancelled due to a surprise blackout.

Citizens were asked to keep noise levels down during the day so that defense workers on late night shifts could sleep during the day.

Everyone, absolutely everyone was on a war footing. It has not happened this way, with this level of total involvement since then. Isn’t it nice that our kids didn’t have to grow up in such a threatening environment? Perhaps we should thank American war veterans for that.

For additional information on Harry Fredricks, Jr., first of Belleville's sons to be killed in the war, visit the page dedicated to him at the BELLEVILLE SONS HONOR ROLL site:

http://www.bellevillesons.com/bel_w2_fredericks_harry.html

White Water on Second River

2007-04-29T13:59:00.000-04:00

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Sometimes happenings in the present are just as exciting as events in history. But then, you should get used to the idea that you are part of a living history. Indeed, what shall we write in our own chapter of “The Saga of Second River” ?

A storm struck the village last week causing flooding in a number of places. Your author here present, with camera in hand, was there to record the images of the white-water rapids on Second River. Can you imagine that ? White water rapids on Second River ? Our quiet, ankle-deep, mill stream surged into a raging torrent with the roar of rushing water, crashing waves, rapids, swirls, and water up to the edge and in some places over, the banks ! It was not something you see very often.

There were some moments of concern as the water reached the top of the banks. There are some homes nearby between Washington Avenue and Bridge Street which were at risk. And, there were all those new cherry blossom trees newly planted along the walkway by the north bank. The water overflowed just west of Bridge Street because the culvert there isn’t large enough for the rush of water to pass through, but otherwise the banks held.

Things were worse over by the Rutan area and on Fairway Avenue where the Third River overflowed causing damage. Also, the Passaic River rose and flooded Main Street on the north end by the Post Office Annex and the old Kidde site on up to the Kingsland Street Bridge. That episode made the TV evening news where it was said that flood water swamped the vehicles in the Post Office parking lot. Most unfortunate was the drowning of an elderly fellow on Main Street who, it appears , was unable to escape the rising water and rushing currents, a moment which has saddened us all.

Has any reader here ever wondered why Main Street is not the “main street” in town ? Well, we have just seen only a small sample of why that is so. About a hundred years ago, the Passaic River flooded, completely swamping all the homes, mansions and businesses there. Afterwards, Main Street was rebuilt and business went on as usual. But a couple of years later, the river raged again; this time even worse. There are photos in the archives of the extensive flooding on that occasion. This time, the good folks of town got the hint and “Main Street” was moved to the higher ground on Washington Avenue which has ever since been our “main street.”

New Cherry Blossom Trees

2007-04-10T19:00:00.000-04:00

Work in progress.

Here is an opportunity for readers of this Blog to witness our village history as it is happening. This is the first time since 1937, yes, that’s 70 years ago, that such a massive planting of new cherry blossom trees has been undertaken. There will be 2,000 new trees planted in Branch Brook Park over the next three years; a large number of those to be along Second River. This is the first installment.

Back in 1937, when the display was first created, 3,400 trees were planted. For long afterwards we fancied ourselves as the “Cherry Blossom Capital of America” which is really quite true. However, these trees have a thirty-year life span and re-planting programs have ranged from sporadic to non-existent. Thus, last time a count was taken, two years ago, there were but 1,100 trees remaining.

Every citizen of the village should be well pleased to know that, upon completion of the current program, the tree count will have been restored to historic numbers and we shall resume our place at the center of national attention. Yes, our display has been and will now again be larger than our nearest competitor, Washington D.C.

Peter Stryker

2007-03-28T14:00:00.000-04:00

. . . The Reverend Peter Stryker of Second River . . .

It would seem that we have not been good keepers of our village history, thus little remains of the early written record and even less in the way of images of our earliest citizens. What I have uncovered, and wish to share with you, is an engraving of The Reverend Peter Stryker, Pastor of the Second River Dutch Reformed Church as he appeared in 1794. This is one of the earliest images of a citizen of our village.

Rev. Stryker was the spiritual leader of the community from October of 1794 until October of 1809. Originally, Rev. Stryker was pastor of the church in Staten Island. Of such good repute was he, that the villagers were determined to bring him to Second River. In 1790, the community prevailed upon Mr. Abraham Speer to make the journey to Staten Island with the intent of inducing Rev. Stryker to move here. This first attempt was unsuccessful. But our villagers were a resolute people who in 1794 renewed their efforts and were this time successful.

Among his many accomplishments during fifteen years in the community, Rev. Stryker was the first to give his sermons in the English language; previously Dutch was the language of common use. His abilities were fully tested when he became responsible for the rebuilding of the church structure. On the 22nd of May in 1804 a violent tornado tore down the steeple and left the building unfit for use. The villagers were a frugal people but prosperous so that by 1807, under the guidance of Rev. Stryker, a new church building was completed.

It was during his tenure, in June of 1797, that the grand old Village of Second River was renamed and became the Town of Belleville. And so it was that the Rev. Peter Stryker was a leading citizen of both the old village and the new town. The War for Independence had ended more than a decade ago; both the town and the church had recovered from its effects. Now it seemed that things could only get better; and they did.

However, in 1809, the good Reverend choose to answer the call of another church. He became pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Amboy. Much beloved was he in our community and much dismayed were the good folks here at his leaving. The villagers persisted in persuading him to return. Next year, in 1810, he acquiesced, returning to Second River for an additional two years. In 1812, for reasons of health, he retired. In a manuscript left by one of his sons, it is said that he was advised by his physicians to “take a long journey on horseback.” In our last view of the Reverend Peter Stryker, we see him riding off into the sunset, seeking peace of mind.

Second River’s First Born

2007-03-11T21:11:00.002-04:00

In a town as old as this one, it can be a real challenge to determine who was the first person born here. Records are sparse when they exist at all. In fact, for the first twenty-three years of the settlement’s existence, there were no records kept here at all. Yes, this is work for a hard-nosed historian-detective . . . ahem . . . ok., I have a candidate to offer.

The historical evidence that has been uncovered at present, favors a first settlement date of 1674 for our village. A detailed explanation of the settlement date is a topic for another essay, but it has to do with the terms and conditions of the treaty ending the Third Anglo-Dutch War. However, the Dutch Reformed Church, keeper of vital records in the 17th century, was founded in Second River in 1697. For those years in between, records of vital statistics were kept in Bergen (Jersey City). This is where the good folks of The Village of Second River, Dutch as they were, had to go to receive Divine Rites in those days. It is from scouring these ancient records that we find our candidate. Future historian-detectives may one day demonstrate otherwise, but for now I offer you this one:

It’s a Girl !

Elisabeth Merselis was born in The Village of Second River on March 3, 1682. Her parents were Merselis Pierterse and Pieterje van der voorst. She was baptized in the church at Bergen on April 18, 1682. The witnesses were Pieter Merselis and Hillitje Jans.

We hear of her again when, at the age of nineteen, she marries Adriaen A. Post at Bergen Dutch Reformed Church. The ceremony was held on April 21, 1701. At this time she moved to Bergen where her husband lived. We further learn that she had five children; Garret, Claertje, Adriaen, Marcelus and Elisabeth.

It seems that we just missed her 325th birthday. Perhaps next year we can celebrate Elisabeth Merselis Day on March 3rd !

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http://cherryblossomvillage.blogspot.com/

Flying "Billie" Walsh

2007-02-25T16:21:00.000-05:00

There was a Miss Wilma Walsh, better known to her friends as ‘Billie’ who, back in 1929, was a teacher at Belleville High School. But Billie was different than most other teachers, Billie had earned her pilots license. That was no small thing in those pioneer days of flying. Her ‘home base’ as a pilot was old Roosevelt Field in Garden City, Long Island. It was there where she got her flight training and with 60 hours of solo time to her credit, she received her ‘wings’, a coveted pilot’s license.

Roosevelt Airfield was named in honor of President Theodore Roosevelt's son, Quentin Roosevelt, who was killed in air combat during World War I. It was the takeoff point for many flights that were important in the history of aviation. Charles Lindbergh's 1927 solo transatlantic flight originated at Roosevelt Field. It was also used by other pioneering aviators, including Amelia Earhart and Wiley Post. Miss Walsh was in good company. At its peak in the 1930s, Roosevelt Field was America’s busiest civilian airfield.

Billie was as proficient at flying amphibian aircraft as she was at piloting land based aircraft. To her credit, she was the first pilot to successfully land a sea plane at the marine base at Newark Metropolitan Airport.

While vacationing in Europe in the summer of ’29, this resident of Van Houten Street, regarded as a very pretty aviatrix, flew as a passenger on such pioneer airlines as Imperial English Airways and Royal Dutch Airways. Her favorite personal aircraft was the high-powered, sporty ‘Bird CK’, an open cockpit biplane.

Here’s a 1929 photo of Miss Walsh with her own plane

Here’s a modern photo of a fully restored biplane, of the kind she piloted, a Bird CK

Hey !

2007-02-08T20:02:00.000-05:00

Hey ! So many young people and not a few older folks have adopted this as an every day greeting when they mean ‘hello’. For this I commend them. It brings us back, full circle, to the old language of this place. The old language is not English. No, it’s not even Dutch as some who know their town’s history might have guessed since the village was first settled by the Dutch. Indeed, the old language is ten times older than that, it is Lenape. The Lenni Lenape people were here since a time long out of memory and beyond the reach of history. They were here for even longer that some of us old history buffs first thought. We knew there was a race of wooly mammoth hunters who frequented the area as the ice age receded but we thought those hunters preceded the Lenape. However, certain findings among the archaeological artifacts have shown us that the Lenape WERE the mammoth hunters. They were here in what we call our town even before most of our own civilizations ever came into existence. So, isn’t it proper that we should honor these ‘grandfather people’, as they called themselves, by saying ‘Hey!’ when we meet. What does ‘Hey’ mean, you may ask. In Lenape, it means ‘hello’. My goodness, isn’t that ironic.

Want to have a little fun ? In this multi-cultural society we live in where we don’t really understand each other anyway, next time you stop in at Dunkin Donuts try saying this : “mili kapi” (pronounce it -MAY-lee KUP-ee).
See what you get ! By the way, it means, “give me coffee”. Or, if it’s lunchtime, you might say to your companions of the moment, “mitsitam” (may SEE tum). Which, of course, means “Let’s eat”. They will be dazzled by your wealth of knowledge, or maybe ask you what you’ve been smoking. Should you come upon a fellow who appears to be experiencing an evil moment you may say to him, “kulamulsi huch?” (koo la MA see huch), and if he doesn’t take a swing at you, you may have time to explain that it means “Are you o.k.?”

It is such a very old language, this Jersey-speak is, this language of the Lenape. You will be doing history and future generations a great favor if you remember just two or three phrases of this ancient tongue, just to help keep it alive. It would be a pity if a language handed down since the ice age is forgotten. And besides, it’s the old language of your hometown.

Well, for now, let me just say, Lapìch knewel !

A Saturday Night Date

2007-01-20T22:48:00.000-05:00

It’s Saturday night in old Belleville, April 29, 1925. You are a hard-working young fellow who just got paid. Your pocket is full of money, maybe as much as $10.00 if you have a really good job. You have a date with one of the cutest girls in town and you want to make a good impression on her. You pick her up at her house and help her into your Model-T roadster then head over to the malt shop where you treat her to an ice cream sundae, an extravagant expenditure that will cost you 25¢ each. While there, you convince her that it’s a great night to go to the Alpha Theater on Washington Avenue near Williams Street. A lot of your friends will be there, it’s a popular place. There is a great movie playing called “Romance and Rustlers” with none other than World Champion cowboy Yakima Canutt in the starring role.

The movie sounds pretty exciting. “Bud Kane, a young cowboy, saves his employer's daughter, Ruth Larrabee from a bolting horse. The two fall in love, and Ruth is heartbroken when Bud's hat band is found near the hideout of a gang of rustlers. Assumed to be a member of the gang, Bud is ordered off the spread by his boss. In an attempt to catch the real rustler, Bud is picked up by ranch foreman and held prisoner until the arrival of the sheriff. Ruth, meanwhile, has discovered that the foreman is actually the real gang leader. Confronted with the truth, the foreman attempts an escape, but the freed Bud catches up with him, and the crooked foreman is handed over to the sheriff. “ ... Wow, sensational !

There will also be several on-stage vaudeville acts, usually consisting of a stand-up comic, a song-and-dance routine, perhaps a dramatic performance or maybe a musician or perhaps even a hypnotist to mystify the ladies. Admission will be 10¢ each and worth it because it will please your date.

Afterwards, a quiet dinner for two at one of the local restaurants, there’s a nice one at the corner of Main and Rutgers right across from the Dutch church. A three course meal will cost you around a dollar apiece which is not so bad as it will give you some time to talk about the movie, laugh again at the comic’s jokes and re-hash the gossip you heard from the friends you met at the Alpha.

By now it is getting close to your date’s curfew hour but you figure that your speedy roadster, at a racy 25 miles per hour, will get you up to Riviera Park at the north end of town in time for a couple of dances in the ballroom, maybe a ride on the carousel and a soda before you take her home. It was an expensive night. When you add in 10¢ each for the park admission, another 10¢ each for the carousel and 30¢ for two sodas plus 10¢ a gallon for gas for your roadster, you probably spent $3.50 on the evening. But, it’s o.k. because she thinks you’re as rich as Rockefeller and she let you kiss her good-night. Hey, you can always earn another $10.00 next week.

Lost In The Woods

2007-01-03T20:11:00.000-05:00

Here is an interesting article I found in a sixty-eight year old newspaper about a young child who had become lost in the “woods” in the derelict remains of old Hillside Pleasure Park. The amusement park, one of the largest to have ever been built in New Jersey, had closed in 1927. By 1939 most traces of it were raised leaving only untended undergrowth on the site; the “woods”. In this article the reporter appears to be magnifying a minor incident into a great adventure, never-the-less, what we see is that feelings of nostalgia and fond memories of the old park were not far below the surface of the public’s collective memory.

Dateline - Thursday, September 21, 1939

LOST IN WOODS, CHILD REVIVES OLD THRILLS.

Once Was The Time Hillside Park Caused Chills

It has been years since Riviera Park held any terror for most folks who are willing to say they remember that far back to the days when it was old Hillside Park.
In those halcyon days of yore the Indians and cowboys and girls engaged in some hectic battles while a stage coach robbery helped add the thrills that made the youngsters’ hair stand on end. There was a nickelodeon “way out west in Belleville” and canoes on the “lake,” with wild animals in cages up in the woods. There the balloon tugged at it’s ropes eager to be aloft with its daredevil parachute jumpers, as a climax to the show.
And, shucks, come to think of it, boys were scared as youngsters in “them thar hills” as they shinnied over the fences into the woods.
All this came back this morning as a reporter glanced over the police blotter to see how the bluecoats had been earning their pay during the week.
Here is what appeared: “Mrs. O’Brian, 143 Linden Avenue, reported her three-year-old daughter, Patricia, lost in the woods in Riviera Park. She was found in Bremond Street.”
Golly, they were hair raising days when the lads jumped over the fence, and they, too, got lost in the woods --- real woods, then.

A Dutch Christmas in Belleville

2006-12-22T23:33:00.000-05:00

A Dutch Christmas in Belleville

Christmas has been celebrated in Belleville, the Village of Second River, for 331 years. Only a handful of other places in America can boast of more. The village was, of course, settled by the Dutch so their holiday celebrations were a continuation of those they remembered in Holland. Three centuries ago the holiday season began on December 5th.

December 5th was St. Nicholas Eve, the time for presents and the beginning of a month-long holiday season. All youngsters eagerly waited the coming of Sinterklaas who would arrive in the harbor in a great sailing ship richly laden with gifts and goodies .... and a switch. It was believed by all Dutch children that Sinterklaas was the Bishop of Spain who brought with him a magical flying horse which he needed in order to visit all in a single night. He did have some help, a small Moorish fellow known as ‘Black Pete’ who was his elf. Indeed, Sinterklaas is always seen with the great white flying steed and Black Pete.

Instead of leaving cookies and milk, as might be done today, children left their shoes outside the door filled with tasty hay for the magic horse. They all knew this happy verse by heart:

Look, yonder comes the schooner,
All the way from Spain.
There stands good St. Nicholas,
Coming back again.
Frisking up and down the deck,
See his horsie go !
How prettily the pennants
Flutter to and fro !
Black Pete, he smiles upon us,
With gifts his bags are rich,
Who’s good, shall have some goodies,
Who’s naughty, gets a switch !

Christmas Day, December 25th , was a solemn religious holiday, very un-like today. However, the holiday season did not end then but continued on until Twelfth Night Eve on January 5th. Here was a day of exuberant merrymaking ! The Dutch settlers of Second River were hard working pioneers, but surely they did enjoy merrymaking and they enjoyed their winter holidays at least as much as we.

Vrolijk Kerstfeest !

Remembering the Victory Ship Walter Kidde

2005-05-27T00:07:00.000-04:00

Memorial Day 2005 has come now upon us. Customarily, we pause in our merry-making just long enough to remember, in a passing thought, heroes past and present. It is a good exercise; that is, remembering heroes. We owe our life-style to them. Ordinary folks they were who found themselves in extraordinary circumstances and, when called upon, did extraordinary things.

We owe much to many. Sometimes however, to make it more real, I like to narrow my focus. In this year’s remembering I would like to raise my glass in tribute to the crew of an old WWII Victory Class ship, named after one of Belleville’s great captains of industry, the S.S. Walter Kidde. She is a part of our town’s history by virtue of her name. Walter Kidde put as much energy and creative genius into the battle of the home front as any General did in those other battles. Kidde’s army was all those folks who toiled in the plant on Main Street adding to Belleville’s prodigious output of war materials. The government, in naming this particular Victory Ship, acknowledged his contribution as well as the contribution of the tireless work force of our town.

The Victory Ship Walter Kidde, 455 feet long and 62 feet wide, sleek and fast, capable of 17 knots when at maximum power, could outrun a U-Boat. In your mind’s eye, place yourself on her deck for a moment in those dark waters of war. She was armed with a 5-inch gun aft for use against submarines, a bow-mounted 3-inch anti-aircraft gun and eight 20 mm cannon. With this minimum of firepower, her crew was expected to defend the 10,850 tons of tanks, jeeps or aircraft that she could carry. In wartime she was manned by a crew of 62 merchant sailors and 28 U. S. Navy Armed-Guard personnel who operated the guns and communications equipment.

There were 534 Victory class ships built for the war effort making it difficult to learn the history of just one of them but we do get two “snap-shots in time” of the Walter Kidde. We know she was built in Baltimore, launched in 1944, and was at war during the last two years of WWII. We also know she survived the war to become a peace-time merchant ship, re-named the Yorkman, with the Calmar Line.

So, this Memorial Day I shall raise a glass of good scotch to the gallant crew of the Victory Ship Walter Kidde and reflect upon their bravery. I would like to think that her crew knew they were on a good ship named after an industrial leader in a town of dedicated people.

Here you can see a photo of the Walter Kidde in civilian garb courtesy of Armed-Guard.com.

Open Space

2005-05-17T13:52:00.000-04:00

What I remember most about early childhood, in the late ‘40s and early ‘50s, in Belleville
is open space. There were endless places to run, to play, to feel the freedom of open space. Back yards were un-fenced, and as long as you didn’t trample the neighbors petunias, you were free to run about. Back yards, back then, were filled with fruits and flowers. I remember a plentiful supply of raspberries, strawberries, mulberries, grapes, apples, pears and more. Wow, talk about fast food ! How about just reaching out and finding food right in the middle of what ever game occupied us at the moment.

Back yards were not the only open space. I lived in the shadow of Soho hospital, right across the street from the “hospital grounds” with it’s acres and acres of green, open space. It was un-fenced in those early days, and easy to go to. There were fields for games and slopes for sleigh riding. You could actually see long distances.

There were an assortment of wooded properties scattered about the neighborhood. Opportunities for more freedom, they were. Of course you were not supposed to play on these private properties, but when you knew there were Indians hiding behind the trees, you just had to go in there with your cap-gun and chase them out.

Perhaps best of all were the safaris we would take into the “swamp”. Today it is called the Rutan Estates but then it was many acres of marshy land by the third river where we went hunting with our hand-made sling-shots. Many a wild critter lived in great peril while we stalked them in those woods.

Yes, open space, but so little of it is left today. So much of it has given way to “progress” as the developers mistakenly call it. Younger people today often ask us older folks what was so terrific about the “good old days”, anyway. It’s a difficult question to answer, because there is almost nothing to compare it to in today’s world so that they might understand. I grew up on sun-soaked grassy fields and they have grown up on concrete and small, confining back yards. What can I say, I grew up before progress happened. Really, open space is better.

A Grand Old Name

2005-05-08T00:25:00.000-04:00

The place-name given by folks to their hometown reveals much about the character of the land they have chosen to settle. While one might wonder about such places as Flushing, NY or Ashland, PA, there is nothing to puzzle over when folks call their home “Beautiful Village” …. Belleville. It may seem strange for a moment that these Dutch settlers gave a French name to their home in English speaking America. Yet, it speaks of their expectations, tells us that they believed they would become world renowned and so chose a name in the then international language, French. It is an old name by American standards, but not the oldest name given to this place.

If the old mastodon hunters, who ambled along what we now dare to call Main Street, ever had a name for this place, we shall never know it; although it may well have been a combination of a raised eyebrow coupled with an agreeable grunt that meant “nice place, huh?”

The Lenape, who lived here longer than any race of man, gave to the larger general area the name “Pahsayek” (Passaic) which meant “The Valley”, a name which survives as that of our bordering river as well as a town and county north of here. The eastern section of town is still known as “The Valley”. Most, but not all, Lenape names for near-by places have been erased from the map and from our collective memory. The Third River is still called the Yantacaw on some maps. Yantacaw is a Lenape word meaning “Dancing Place”. It is no mystery why that name was given. From the place where the Yantacaw flows into the Passaic and on south to Center Street was sacred Lenape land where the annual Thanksgiving rites were held since time immemorial. It was not just the locals, but all Lenape would make the yearly pilgrimage to this sacred power place. The north end of it was, of course, the dancing place. This may seem to be a bit of Nutley’s history and perhaps it is, but one must consider that Nutley was once Nut Lea, was once Franklin, was once the north end of Belleville (until 1874) which was once Second River. So, in the end it is also a part of Second River’s history.

The name Second River is, at it’s roots, a simple and descriptive cartographer’s term applied by Henry Hudson’s survey crew as they explored the Passaic River basin in 1609. The first white man to set eyes upon the site of what would be our town was either Henry Hudson himself or Robert Juet, his first officer. Juet kept a meticulous journal of the voyage, however, he neglected to mention which of them was supervising the surveying party that day. So, we must make do with wondering which of them “discovered” our town site. They jotted names down on their map as they slowly worked their way up the Passaic in a long boat, sounding the bottom as they went, First River, Second River, Third River.

As a side bar, yes, there is a First River. It flows ignobly through the storm sewers of Newark. You can still see it sometimes gushing, sometimes trickling out of an old pipe into the lower Passaic. It’s a pitiful sight.

The name Second River stuck to this area from the time of Hudson’s third voyage in 1609, through the settlement period of the late 1600’s, through both the Dutch and English colonial periods and on through the Revolutionary War. The name “Village of Second River” is seen on George Washington’s military campaign maps.

Place-names are not forever. It confuses history and confounds historians but, people change place-names. True, it tends to cast the shadow of obscurity over a long tradition of events and the accomplishments of a people but it happens with some frequency. And so it was that the good folks of the Village of Second River, discontent that their town was named after the local stream, wanting a more noble sounding name, decided to change the name of their village. On the 24th day of June in 1797, Second River became the Village of Washington.

It is unlikely that anything of historical importance ever happened in the Village of Washington because, two days later, the good folks of Washington, discontent with the name of their town, changed it. On the 26th day of June in 1797 the Town became known as Belleville.

Today, 208 years later, the name still stands. I guess the good folks of Belleville are content living in their Beautiful Village.

Introduction

2005-05-01T17:45:00.000-04:00

I live on ancient land. Yes, I know, dirt is old and all land is ancient. Still, this land is ancient in a special sense. Mastodon hunters once dwelt here. Lenapes, called the ‘grandfather people’ by their peers, made a home for uncounted generations on this land where I cut my grass. A Revolutionary War skirmish, the Battle of Second River, was fought a short walk from here where I sit writing. Birthplace of the American industrial revolution, this town’s factories poured copious quantities of war materials as well as fighting men into the victorious battles for freedom during World War II. Today, this town sits in the dawn light of the twenty-first century, worn, hard-used, waiting for it’s people to cause it to blossom again. I believe it will, it is good land.

I feel an attachment to this place. I have been here a long time. I was brought here as an infant in the late ‘40s by my parents who lived their entire adult lives here. I have always lived here, went to school here, raised a family here and sent my children to school here. At an early age, while still in school, I became fascinated with the history of this village which, by American standards, is very old. For the decades since, I have soaked-up the history, legends and wonders of this place once known as the Village of Second River, now known as Belleville. It is a thing worth sharing.

This is but a tiny corner of cyber-space, but I should like to put it to some good use by sharing with those who may stumble into it what I have discovered about this ancient land along with what I have experienced while growing-up here. Perhaps you will find it interesting.

To be continued ….