Woodside, the North End of Newark, N.J

I believe that those of long ago who wrote books frequently began with an apology to the gentle reader, and I am inclined to do likewise, or at least to rise and explain.

The fact is, this narrative was originally undertaken merely as a family reminiscence, but Mr. C. C. Hine’s life was so interwoven with the later life of Woodside that what was intended as a brief sketch to illustrate a series of photographs has gradually grown into a book covering the story of the region now known as Woodside as completely as I have been able to gather it. This will account for the somewhat personal view frequently indulged in and for some of the minor details.

Woodside, until it was opened as a residence section, was a purely farming region whose inhabitants went elsewhere for their groceries and religion, and as the average farmer thinks more of making hay than history, the movement must necessarily be somewhat slow.

Dr. Macauley once said of Woodside: “As God made it it was a beautiful place, but as the hand of man left it I have nothing to say.” That the hand of man has desecrated it all those who knew its woodlands and waterways twenty-five or more years ago can readily testify, but one of its good points even man cannot reach, and that is its climate, for it is the coolest part of Newark. This in former times was unconsciously testified to by the drivers of the old horse cars, who were in the habit of shedding their coats upon arrival at the cemetery from the north, there to hide them among the bushes, and again resume them on the return trip to Second river.

This region was then as beautiful a stretch of hill and vale and riverside as could well be found. The river was clear and sparkling, and fish abounded; the call of the whip-poor-will was heard on the evening air, and the brown thrush sang to us from the thicket, while squirrel and hare were always with us.

Groves of trees were numerous and beautiful. “Bird’s Woods” along Second river with its magnificent old pines and hemlocks, the outer edge of the wood fringed with an undergrowth of laurel, while partridge berries gleamed from the depths of the moss underfoot, made an entrancing spot which has seldom been equalled, and the ruins of the old mills along the stream gave a picturesque touch that none who grew up with the region can forget.

Effort has been made to give credit for information received; in some cases authority for statements made is given in connection with the statements themselves, as it is interesting and valuable to know the source, but this is not always practicable, as the same item not infrequently comes from several sources and it is occasionally difficult to blend the varying opinions.

In a few instances statements made by unknown newspaper writers have been used. The stories are given for what they are worth, but all of them are part of the legend of the region and none have been invented merely for filling.

I have honestly done the best I could in gathering and arranging the material. Now and then I have come on a mine of information in such friends as Mrs. Henry J. Winser and Messrs. E. A. Boyden, James S. Taylor and James Swinnerton, but it has been mostly here a little and there a little, and for such help I acknowledge indebtedness to Mr. W. E. Blewett, Jr., Mr. E. A. Boyden, Miss J. F. Bradford, Mrs. R. H. Brewster, Mr. Edward Burling, Mr. R. Smith Carter, Mr. James E. Coombes, Mr. Frank S. Crane, Mrs. Henry Davis, Miss Anna B. Farrand, Mrs. A. H. Gibbs, Messrs. Levi C. and William H. Jackson, Mrs. Margaret H. Kay, Mr. J. Edwin Keen, Mr. John Morris Keen, Mr. Thomas Kinsey, Mr. David Maclure, Mr. James C. McDonald, Mrs. John R. Mathews, Mr. Theodore Melius, Rev. Henry Merle Mellen, Mr. Henry B. Munn, Mr. Lincoln B. Palmer, Mrs. Margaret Perry, Miss and Messrs. Phillips, Mr. Henry C. Rommel, Mr. Arthur E. Sandford, Miss. J. A. Sidman, Judge Alfred F. Skinner, Mr. William Stimis. Mr. James Swinnerton, Miss Laura M. Sydenham, Mr. James S. Taylor, Mr. L. P. Teller, Judge Jay Ten Eyck, Mrs. Mary E. Tucker, Dr. Grenville M. Weeks, Mrs. Emma F. Welch, Mrs. E. M. Wessel, Mrs. Henry J. Winser.

I am also indebted to the Newark Public Library, the New Jersey Historical Society and the New York Historical Society, and to the real estate records of the Fidelity Trust Company.

Through the courtesy and co-operation of Mr. Charles Grant Schaeffer, Principal of the Elliott Street School, the school children entered into a competition for a cover design for this book which resulted in the selection of the design submitted by Miss Edna Eckert, a pupil in the Eighth B Grade.

Woodside was originally included in the Newark grant, which extended north “to the Third River above the towne, ye River is called Yauntakah”. For a long time those of this region in common with those of Belleville, were known as the “Inhabitants of the Second River”. But Newark on March 11, 1743, having become tired of supporting the poor of so large a district, narrowed its borders, drawing a line on the north just below the eastern end of the Gully road to the “Boiling Spring”.

The description given in the Town Meeting of March 11, 1743, reads as follows: “Beginning at Passaick River, at the Gulley near the House of Doct’r Pigot, thence North West (Northeast?) to Second River, thence up the same to the Saw Mill belonging to George Harrison, thence a direct Line to the North East Corner of the Plantation of Stephen Morris, thence to the Notch in the Mountain leaving William Crane’s House to the Southward, thence on a direct line to Stephen Van siles, thence Westwardly (Eastwardly?) to Passaick River leaving said Van siles Bars and Abraham Francisco’s to the Northward of s’d Line: and it was agreed, that all on the Northward of s’d Lines should be esteemed Inhabitants of Second River, and all on the Southward of the Body of Newark, excepting Levi Vincent, Johanes Kiper and his Son Thomas Cadmus. John Low desired that himself and his Father might be reconed or esteemed Inhabitants of Second River, since they belonged to that Society.”

This is a verbatim copy taken from the “Newark Town Records”, but I do not know just what it means unless some previous copyist stood on his head when putting down the points of the compass.

For nearly one hundred years this region was a portion of Bloomfield, or Wardesson, as it was formerly known, and when in 1839 Belleville was set off from eastern Bloomfield, Woodside became a part of the newer township, and so remained until March 24, 1869, when it became independent of all outside control.

At this time its boundaries extended from the mouth of Second river along the west bank of the Passaic to a point immediately below the Gully road, thence west a little south to the Boiling Spring, cutting across Second avenue above Mount Prospect avenue, thence almost northeast to a point on the canal just above what is now known as the “butter works”; thence southeast a quarter mile or so to Second river which it crossed and continued with Mill street as its northern limit as far as the Back road, from which point Second river was itself the dividing line to its mouth at the Passaic.

But, alas! on the fifth of April, 1871, our independence was lost forever and most of us were turned over to the tender mercies of the Newark politicians, who have ever since exercised a wonderful ingenuity in taxing us poor inhabitants to the limit and giving as little in return as possible. In fact the only thing we get for our taxes, aside from the fire department service, is an occasional policeman, who comes twice each year with tickets to sell for ball or excursion. Does the road need paving or sewering, the cost is assessed on the abutting property, and so is it with sidewalks, and even with the shade trees which the city fathers insist are good for us, and having planted them they send us a bill therefor. The Woodsider has never yet been able to ascertain what he is taxed for, unless it is to keep the politicians in good running order. This remark should be qualified to some extent so far as the police are concerned, for no locality could have a better protector than Mounted Officer Niblo, who has long been on this post and who, we hope, will long remain; there is also a patrolman who does his duty as though his job depended on it, but the majority of them seem to have the true politician’s idea as to what is good for them.

The sin was legalized by “An Act to divide the township of Woodside between the City of Newark and the township of Belleville”.

The boundary of Woodside is given as “beginning at the intersection of the centre of the Second river with the centre of the Passaic river; thence (1) running southerly along the centre of the Passaic river, the several courses thereof, to the northerly line of the city of Newark (just below Gully road); thence (2) westerly along the said line of the city of Newark to the centre of the Great Boiling spring, at the line of the township of Bloomfield; thence (3) northerly along said line to the centre of Branch brook; thence (4) northeasterly along the centre of said brook, the several courses thereof, to the centre of Second river; thence (5) down along the centre of Second river, the several courses thereof, to the centre of Passaic River, and the place of beginning.”

All of the township of Woodside not included within the above mentioned boundaries was annexed to the township of Belleville.

James S. Gamble, Horace H. Nichols and Charles Akers, of the township of Woodside, were among the commissioners appointed to see that the division was properly carried out.

The act was approved April 5, 1871.

The transition from independence to slavery was engineered, I am told, by three men for personal and selfish motives, and it gives me great pleasure to record that all three were sadly left. One longed to be sheriff, but must live in Newark to secure the nomination, and did not wish to remove from this pleasant land; the two others were holders of considerable property, and it was their hope that a boom in building lots would set in that would materially fatten their pocketbooks, and so in some dark and mysterious way our model township was ceded to Newark.

But the politician failed of election and the lots did not sell, and “one of the disappointed real estate owners, like Judas Iscariot, went out and hanged himself”.

Once the place belonged to Newark the street car company could, of course, do what it liked with the roadway, and it shortly proceeded to regrade (I had almost said degrade) Washington avenue above Elwood, utterly destroying the carefully laid out parkway on which property owners had spent much thought and money. Terraces and trees were ruthlessly cut down and, to provide a dumping place for the earth removed, Oraton street was cut through and filled in with the Washington avenue debris. “Ichabod was written upon the avenue and the fine name of Oraton could in no way lend dignity to the new street”, which at that time was largely given over to negroes and laborers.

Until 1865 Woodside was a purely agricultural district, except for the factories along Second river, and contained but four roads of any moment. The River road, the Back road to Belleville, the old Bloomfield or Long Hill road and the lower road from Belleville to Bloomfield, known as Murphy’s lane. There was also one cross road known as Division road or Bootleg lane, because of its shape; this is now given over to Halleck street and Grafton avenue, with that bit of Washington avenue which lies between.

The history and legend, dating before 1867, so far as I have been able to find them, will be taken up guidebook fashion by following each road in turn and pointing out its wonders as we proceed.

“The road to ‘Hocquackanong’ was laid out from the north end of Newark, as the path then ran, through the village named, passing the north end of the Acquackanonk meeting house and thence to Pompton”. This was recorded March 16, 1707, and must refer to the River road, though probably all the laying out it received was on paper.

The Indians from Paterson and beyond had a well defined trail along the river bank which led to Newark Bay, and the early settlers probably used this without attempting much improvement.

As we travel northward the River road naturally begins with the Gully road. As far back as tradition goes and the old maps show, the Gully road has existed, but there is a theory that the Indian trail, of which the River road is an expansion, continued down the river bank, and one bit of folk-lore which remains indicates that this may have been so.

The legend tells us that so long ago that those who tell the story cannot compute the time, there lived at the present junction of Washington avenue and the Gully road an aged couple in a simple cot that hardly kept them from the weather. There was then a small stream that claimed the gully for its own, but as time went on the brook gradually dried up, and as gradually people from the back country began to use its bed as a highway. As traffic grew the cottage was found to lie in the way of travelers, and one night it was ruthlessly torn down over the head of its defenseless occupant, for by this time only one was left.

The resultant exposure proved fatal, the old settler being unable to survive the shock, and ever after has his ghost walked the Gully road. The ghost has not been seen for thirty years or more, but one who has actually met the vision, a lady of years and education, tells me that she distinctly saw it one dark Sunday afternoon, about 1879, while on her way to church.

Though a resident here for several years she had never heard of the Gully road ghost, nor did she know that the region was haunted, but in the darkest and loneliest part of the road she encountered a nebulous shape about the size of a human being, standing at a gate which gave entrance to one of the few places along the road. My informant was young then, and more easily frightened than now, but she saw too distinctly to believe that she could have been mistaken. It appears that the lady had disregarded the biblical injunction to obey her husband, for he did not wish her to go to church at that particular time, but she, being contrary minded, insisted, and it seems highly probable that the ghost was sent to warn her back into path of obedience. Hurrying back she informed her husband, but nothing more was seen of the apparition and it was some time later that she learned that the road was haunted and heard the above story from an old settler.

The present level of the Gully road is much lower than it was even fifty years ago, and there is a legend that one hundred and fifty years ago a great freshet cut out large quantities of earth here, but the higher level could hardly have been of long duration, for Mrs. Gibbs recalls that a number of years ago, while workmen were digging a trench, possibly for the sewer, they brought up what are thought to have been Indian relics from a depth of twelve feet or more. Mr. Gibbs’s brother was passing at the moment of discovery and tried to purchase the find from the man in charge, as he regarded it of considerable ethnological value, but the contractor refused to sell, and when Mr. Gibbs and his brother returned to the spot the men had gone and their discovery with them, and to-day the exact character of the find is not known. Other Indian finds in this immediate neighborhood are a stone mortar and pestle and many arrow points on the Gibbs place. On the Sandford place, just above, a stone mortar hollowed out of a heavy block long stood by the well. This was kept filled with water for the chickens to drink from. When the place was regraded this stone disappeared, it having been probably buried.

(Since the above was put in type I have found one of the laborers who was employed in building the sewer through the Gully road. He tells me that this was about fourteen years ago, that the find occurred just east of the entrance to the Gibbs place on the north edge of the road, and consisted of four or five Indian skeletons with many stone hammers, arrow points, etc. My informant is under the impression that the burial place was extensive and only partially uncovered.)

From the fact that Indians would hardly dig to any such depth as indicated above, it is fair to presume that the filling in may have been comparatively recent; possibly some great storm had washed masses of earth down into the gully.

The Gully road is now well paved and lighted and much affected by that brazen highwayman the automobile, but there was a time when it was a dark and lonesome place where no honest man desired to be caught after dark; where it is said smugglers filed by during the silent watches of the night, the deserted river bank here being a favorite rendezvous for those whose deeds were evil.

Sixty years or so ago a stone wall ran from the bend of the Gully road, near the river diagonally to Belleville avenue, across the property now occupied by the cemetery. Beside this stone wall was buried the first person interred on the site of the cemetery—a noted witch, old Moll DeGrow, the fear of whose shade lent greatly to the terrors of the Gully seventy-five years ago.

This witch was used by the elders as a bugaboo to keep the children indoors after dark, and she appears to have been eminently useful and successful in this capacity. The Gully road was as black as a black hat on a moonless night, and one who ventured abroad at such a time never could tell when he or she might be grabbed by the powers of darkness. During the long Winter evenings these farmer and fisher folk were wont to amuse and scare themselves, as well as the children, by relating all manner of ghostly experiences. Mrs. Henry Davis recalls how, as a child, she used to crawl up to bed so terrified after an evening of witch stories that she could hardly move, her one thought being to get under the bed clothes as quickly as possible, where she would all but smother.

Under such circumstances the ghost of a witch was a powerful combination for evil, and particularly so when it was such a witch as old Moll, who was so much a terror to the neighborhood that there was talk of burning her in order to rid the community of her undesirable presence, but fortunately she died before this feeling culminated in a tragedy. Mrs. Henry Davis well remembers hearing her mother (a former Miss King) tell this as a fact.

In the early days of the cemetery, when it was inclosed by a high wooden fence, there was considerable talk of body-snatching, and one of the men in charge of the grounds was strongly suspected.

Old Mrs. Holt walking down the Gully road one night saw, standing in the darkest shadow, an old fashioned undertaker’s wagon, and hearing voices of men, stepped back among the bushes out of harm’s way. Soon she saw three men against the night sky standing on the high ground of the cemetery. One carried a lantern while the other two had a long bundle shrouded in white. He with the lantern stopped on the ridge, while the others kept down the slope. Now they lifted their bundle to the top of the fence where one man steadied it while the other climbed over. When both were over the body was taken down and placed in the wagon. The man on the hill, whose voice Mrs. Holt recognized, called good-night to the men in the road and they responded as the wagon rapidly drove toward Newark.

How John Thompson saw the Devil in the Gully road was once told by himself in a moment of great confidence, for ordinarily he would never speak of the adventure.

About ’68 or ’69 John worked for Mr. Melius on the River road, and it was noticed that when called on to drive down town after dusk for his employer he invariably went the long way round—Grafton and Washington avenues—and when coming back with Mr. M. he would shut his mouth the moment they entered within the dark precincts of the Gully and say never a word until they were well beyond the black shadow of its overhanging trees.

It seems that John was originally a river man and that he sailored under Captain Nichols, whose profanity was one of his notable points; he had a varied assortment of swear-words and a proficiency in their use that made the efforts of ordinary mortals pale into insignificance.

For some reason not explained the schooner was held up in Newark one day, and as the Captain lived in Belleville there was nothing for it but to walk home. John Thompson went along for, of course, neither one of the seamen thought much of the storm that was raging, even if the rain did come down in torrents which soaked them through.

It certainly did look dark and creepy to John as he peered into the black hole of the Gully road, and though he was himself a gentleman of color and matched up with a dark night first rate, he ever fancied daylight for such places, but the Captain went plunging on into the shadows and John could but follow.

The Captain had used up his stock of cuss-words, and while in the very darkest part of the tunnel commenced all over again and was going fine when a sudden, blinding flash of lightning discovered to John, who was in the rear, a third man walking between them and chuckling every time the Captain swore. Before the light went out John saw that the man was dressed like a parson and that his clothes appeared to be dry in spite of the heavy downpour. A second flash showed a most alarming state of things: the stranger was on fire, smoke or steam was escaping from every crevice, but still he chuckled as the Captain ripped out all manner of strange oaths, and did not seem to pay any attention to his own internal combustion; even in the dark his glee could be heard bubbling forth, nor could the pounding of the storm drown it. By this time the Captain’s attention was also attracted, and when a third flash enabled them to see that their unknown companion had hoofs their worst suspicions were realized and both men broke and ran for Belleville as fast as two pairs of scared legs could carry them, while the Devil laughed long and loud at their dismay.

Another man once ran against a cow in the Gully road one dark night and was considerably worked up over the adventure for the moment. The unfortunate part of it was that he lingered long enough to discover that it was a cow, else we might have had another story of these darksome terrors. The horns and hoofs were there, and all that was needed was a little more imagination and not quite so much practicality. But not all the stories of the Gully road are of such fearful things as these. It was a way of surpassing beauty when lighted by the sun, and a lover’s lane that fairly blossomed with loving couples on pleasant Sunday afternoons, when the sighing of the wind in the trees was but an echo of the happy sighs below. Many a life contract has been signed, sealed and delivered within its confines; in fact I have heard of one youth who proposed on the way back from a boat race, the romantic influence of the place with its glamor of shady nooks being quite too much for his equanimity.

Then there was the English spy who, legend says, was captured by a party of Americans and promptly hanged on the limb of a large tree that stood at the bend of the road. His ghost was for long a sad handicap to the neighborhood and, singular as it may seem, he is said to have played his wildest pranks with those who placed the greatest faith in him. But since the spread of the Mount Pleasant Cemetery down toward his abode little or nothing has been heard of his doings. One theory is that of late he has come within the orbits of so many other ghosts, but of a more respectable and orderly character, that he has become inextricably tangled, much as is reported of wireless messages when many amateurs assault the air.

About fifty years ago Henry William Herbert, who wrote under the name of Frank N. Forrester, resided on the river bank within the present limits of the cemetery, his place being known as “The Cedars”. A queer, romantic figure about which much of fiction as well as truth has been woven.

To Mr. Boyden and others, whose youth was spent about here, this strange figure was a familiar sight, for the recluse used almost daily to walk down town, his shoulders enveloped in a shawl, and always with a troop of dogs at his heels. Those who so remember him rather resent the fact that his brawls have been made much of and his virtues neglected by such as write of him, for they recall him as an attractive man and pleasant companion with many kindly qualities. Herbert generally made a call at the Black Horse tavern which then stood at the “Stone Bridge”, and after a short stay would continue on to the Park House. He was apt to be brusque with those he did not like, and when “beyond his depth” through too great conviviality inclined to be ugly when opposed.

He was born in London April 7, 1807, and was educated at an English college. He came to New York in 1831, supporting himself by teaching and later by writing short stories, historical novels and books on sports, his “Field Sports of America” soon making his name a familiar one to the lovers of gun and rod.

A Newarker, who has written of him from personal knowledge, says:—

“It is a difficult matter to sift the good from the bad in Herbert’s character. He was in truth a most rare and singular being if he did not possess some virtues.

“When writing his celebrated work, ‘Field Sports of America’, he had access to the Newark Library; not content with the privileges there afforded, he cut out bodily leaves from ‘The Encyclopedia Britannica’, evidently unmindful of the selfishness and criminality of the act. There are some men made up of inconsistencies, and a strange agglomeration of moods. Herbert was one of them.

“There is nothing associated with Herbert’s life that is apt to strike a stranger favorably. He was a direct antithesis of Irving, who possessed a certain magnetic influence. The truth is Irving was a good man and Herbert was not. Herbert was endowed with rare genius, and those who have a desire to become convinced of this fact should read his works; they tower as far above the general literary productions of to-day as does the Oregon pine over the tender sapling. His characters are finely drawn—not overdrawn—his heroines are as pure as the purest, and his villains—distinctive in their characteristics—‘act well their parts’. Though not an extensive verse writer, Herbert was the author of some very creditable poetry, his translation of Æschylus’s ‘Prometheus Bound’ and ‘Agamemnon’ show ripe scholarship and otherwise redound to his credit.

“In several of his novels the subject of this sketch has portrayed his own character far better than it has been or can be done by another. Whatever Herbert’s defects, as an author he was of the highest order; he was a voluminous writer and a fine translator. ‘Marmaduke Wyvil’, ‘Cromwell’ and ‘The Roman Traitor’ are works that stand in the front rank of their class, while among his translations M. Thiers’s ‘Life of the First Consul’ is one of the standard works of literature. In his historical novels he approaches nearer Sir Walter Scott than any author I have been privileged to read. He was, in fact, a dual character—an enigma. His genius merits admiration, and it is safe to say that his fame will not die with the century that gave him birth.”

Many are the stories told to show his eccentric character and occasional violence. During summer days he would place himself on the bank of the river with a gun and threaten to shoot passing boatmen unless they came on shore at his bidding, but no sooner did they land than Herbert would disappear, leaving the affrighted oarsmen in a state of perplexity as to what next. It sounds much like a fool trick from this distance, but his reputation made the experience anything but a pleasant one.

Conviviality was the order of the night at The Cedars, Herbert being much in the habit of inviting friends to enjoy what he termed the hospitality of the place. On one such occasion four guests were drinking with him, when the host suddenly sprang to his feet and produced from a small closet two swords and, throwing one on the table, ordered one of those present to defend himself. Recognizing that the affair might terminate seriously, one of the guests kicked over the table, throwing the lamp to the floor and enveloping the room in sudden darkness. The party “broke up” then and there, and the company made for the Gully road that they might live to fight another day. Herbert was thoroughly crazed by this time, and chased his friends up to and down Belleville avenue. Finally the pursued separated and the pursuer kept on after one of them even to the Black Horse tavern (Broad street and Belleville avenue), where an escape was effected.

A race modeled on Æsop’s fable is by no means an everyday occurrence, but Herbert was by no means an everyday citizen. He seems to have been as fond of a joke as he is said to have been of a bottle, and these two loves furnished a modern version of the Hare and Tortoise fable. The following facts are given me by Mr. James S. Taylor, who was an eye witness of the event, and who secured missing details from one of the participants later.

But before going on with the story suppose we hear what the local poet had to say on the subject:—

Herbert was well acquainted with Frank Harrison, veteran of the war with Mexico and keeper of the North Ward Hotel on Broad street, opposite Bridge. At some convivial point in his existence he suggested to Harrison that the two have a boat race on the Passaic, from Belleville to Newark, the prize to be a game supper, and the latter, being game himself, though no boatman, accepted the challenge.

The only condition or obligation of the race was that they should start together, and that the first man to cross the finishing line should win. Each could choose his own boat and suit himself as to rowing. Herbert, living on the river, had a light boat which he knew how to handle, was familiar with the currents and eddies and was moreover a good oarsman, while his opponent knew nothing of the Passaic or its ways. The day was warm, the start was made on time and Harrison received the inverted plaudits of the company assembled for the occasion, for it seemed to these wise ones that there could be but one end to such an event. Herbert was away promptly and soon out of sight around the bend where Second river loses its identity, while the dispenser of strong waters was yet finding himself, but as he rowed our eccentric friend became warm and a black bottle, which he had brought along for company, looked up at him from the bottom of the boat with an invitation he could not resist.

He was now well on his way and still his antagonist was not in sight, therefore, hurry seemed out of place, and then the cool depths of the tree-shaded river bank looked inviting and, thinking to tarry but a moment, he put the boat about for the shore.

Once on shore and stretched at his ease the necessity for any race at all did not appear plain to our hero and he gurgled the time away, blissfully careless as to what might happen out in the hot sunshine. Thus the second boat came along, passed and continued on down toward the goal. Possibly Herbert thought he could at any time overtake his clumsy antagonist, possibly he did not go so far in his speculations; whatever his idea was, the tortoise won the race and the game supper.

Herbert shot himself in the Stevens House, New York, on May 17, 1858. He was buried in Mount Pleasant Cemetery, overlooking the river he knew so well, and his epitaph, which he is said to have suggested himself, is the single Latin word “Infelice”.

In 1743 a Dr. Edward Pigot lived hereabouts, as is noted in the Town Meeting of that year, quoted elsewhere; who he was or whence he came is not for me to say. In 1791 Abraham Sandford, Jr., and Elisha Sandford, lived in an old house on the site of the Herbert house, while building the Sandford dwelling, which still stands nearly opposite the Point House. As early as 1680 the property was owned by Henry Rowe, and remained in the possession of the family until about 1812. Mary Rowe, a witch, lived in a cabin here, and may be the same person referred to elsewhere as Moll De Grow.

After that I find no record of a dwelling here until Herbert built. After his death this house was occupied for a short time by Mr. Joseph S. Rano, a shoemaker by trade, and a great hunter and a haunter of the river and its banks; then came Mr. Sanchez y Dolce, who resided here until the dwelling was destroyed by fire. Then came the cemetery, and it is now the dwelling place of many dead.

Those who only know the Passaic of to-day can hardly realize that there was once a “Green Island” lying off the northern end of Mount Pleasant Cemetery which was a noted rendezvous for wild ducks and geese, with enough water between it and the shore to enable river craft to navigate the channel.

This Green Island was a thorn in the side of the cemetery people, who purchased it for $ 1,000, or thought they did; but soon came those who bluffed them into buying it over again, and this time they paid $10,000. When the Erie came it claimed that the cemetery had no rights in Green Island at all, and calmly pre-empted it for trackage purposes.

Seventy-five years ago this was a hunter’s paradise, and even within the memory of some of us old codgers the fishing for shad and smelts was a well established industry. In fact, the fishing rights of Green Island were for hire, as I am told that one could rent them for a day or a week and do his own fishing. Old Fink, whoever he was, once gathered in five hundred shad in one haul; at least one of his contemporaries does solemnly affirm such to have been the case, and another as calmly tells me that fourteen bushels of smelts were the reward of two hauls, of which he had cognizance.

This almost sounds as if we were again on the lake of Gennesaret. But still greater wonders are recorded by Mr. William Stimis, eighty-seven years of age, who has heard his father say that he had seen 1,200 shad caught in one haul, and he, William, with three others, gathered in 120 bushels of smelts in one night. He also tells of a striped bass weighing sixty-six pounds, sturgeon six feet long and of a host of lesser fish that swam the Passaic.

In Graham’s American Monthly Magazine, 1854, appears a “Memoir on the Smelt of the Passaic River”, by Frank Forrester, from which the following brief facts are taken:—

The author was fond of classical allusions and high sounding phrases, and devotes two of his four pages to telling us how much he knows of things that do not pertain to the subject in hand, but when he gets down to “the delicious little fish known as the Smelt” we learn that it is the smallest of the salmon family, that the American smelt is larger than, and superior to, the European variety, and that its zoological name “osmerus” is from the Greek, and means “to give forth a perfume”, this having reference to the peculiar odor of cucumbers it exhales when fresh.

The smelt of the Passaic and Raritan rivers was an entirely different fish from that of the Connecticut and more eastern rivers, and commanded a far higher price in the New York markets, though much smaller, the majority being under six inches in length while the eastern smelt averages eleven to twelve inches. The whole fish was of the most brilliant pearly silver, with the slightest possible changeable hue of greenish blue along the back, “The peculiar cucumber odor, in the freshly caught fish, and the extreme delicacy of the flesh, both of which are (1854) so far superior in the fish of the Passaic, as to be obvious to the least inquisitive observer”. This Passaic smelt Mr. Herbert found agreed in every particular with the description of the European smelt.

In the springs of 1853-4 no school of fish, either shad or smelt, ran up the river owing, it was believed, to the establishment of a chain ferry about a mile above Newark bay. Mr. Herbert never knew of a well authenticated case where the smelt had been taken with bait, but states that they could be taken with the scarlet Ibis fly, and that he had himself killed them thus on the Passaic.

Two well known figures of the Green Island waters were those of the “Two Horaces”, as they were called, Messrs. Horace H. Nichols and Horace Carter, brothers-in-law, neighbors and good friends. They constructed a comfortable boat for the purpose and might have been seen almost any pleasant afternoon, when the fishing was on, placidly waiting for a bite.

When the Erie came it drove spiles into the tender bosom of Green Island, and in time filled in a solid road bed, and where we once hunted for the roots and buds of the calamus docks have been built and filled in, and our island has lost its identity. All this filling has so changed the outline of the river bank that it is not now evident why the “Point House” was so named, though there was a time when this was a well developed point.

Accounts differ somewhat as to the old-time owners of the Point House property, even the same man does not altogether agree with himself on this point. It is said that Judge Elias Boudinot, a Newarker, secured the property from the state, there being no other claimant for it. It was probably purchased on November 12, 1799, from the Judge by Abraham Van Emburgh who, about 1810-14, left suddenly for parts unknown because of a financial panic in the Van Emburgh family.

The property was sold by order of the court on July 24, 1811, to Thomas Whitlock who, on August 22, 1811, sold it to Peter Sandford; his heirs disposed of it on February 8, 1832, to William Duncan, John Cunningham, Sebastian Duncan and John Duncan. Another account makes Simeon Stivers an owner one hundred years ago, and also mentions one William Glasby and Miles I’Anson as subsequent owners.

That the Point House was a place of resort at an early date would appear from the following anecdote told me by Mrs. R. H. Brewster, a granddaughter of that Phœbe King who furnished the original material for the story, and who lived just below in the King house. The incident occurred before 1820, and came to Mrs. Brewster from her mother.

During certain seasons of the year the men of the neighborhood were in the habit of going on what were known as fishing trips on the river, but though they fished within sight of their own doors, they would remain away from home for two or three days, using the Point House, which was then run by a woman, as headquarters, and here they indulged in what were technically known as “fish dinners”, and these fish dinners, it would appear, were conducive to more or less conviviality. The fact that “Poddy”, husband of Phœbe, was much troubled with gout in later years may have been due to an excess of fish, or something taken at this time—however this is merely surmise.

Phœbe, it seems, came to the conclusion that her good man was eating too many fish dinners, and she said something to this effect, even going so far, when no attention was paid to her first hint, as to suggest that she might blow up the Point House if “Poddy” did not change his method of fishing, but he forgot all about it the next time one of his cronies came along and off he went again. Thus things ran along some two years or more until one day Phœbe discovered a ladder standing against the side of the Point House, next the kitchen chimney, at a time when a “fish dinner” was hatching, and as our story opens a great chowder was brewing over the fire at the bottom of that chimney. Phœbe saw her opportunity and grasped it; procuring a long string, a small bag and what she thought was powder enough to give the fisherman a scare, she proceeded to work. But as the result shows she underestimated the ability of good black powder to do things.

With the powder inclosed in the bag and the bag fast to one end of the string the good wife cautiously ascended to the roof and, carefully placing the bag just over the chimney’s edge, she then came back to earth and, walking as far as the string would permit, let it go and hurried home. The result was even more conclusive than she had anticipated, for the explosion that followed not only distributed the chowder with absolute impartiality to the expectant company gathered around the hearth, but also removed a portion of the chimney.

It would appear that at that time there was a witch in the neighborhood, possibly old Moll DeGrow, whose power for evil was generally recognized, and the recipients of the chowder promptly came to the conclusion that the witch was at the bottom of the trouble, all but “Poddy”. He had a light, and hastened home with it, but there sat Phœbe, placidly spinning and greatly surprised at his tale of woe, and though he tried to get up an argument over the matter it lacked success, being much too one-sided, and it was many years before he was allowed to verify his suspicions. In the meantime fish dinners at the Point House went out of fashion, the new method of serving chowder not being looked on with favor.

For several years the Duncans carried on the printing and dyeing of silk handkerchiefs in the Point House, probably the first enterprise of this sort established in the vicinity of Newark. They secured the raw silk in New York and, after converting it into the finished article, one of the brothers would make up a bundle of handkerchiefs and trudge to New York with it. On leaving this place the Duncans established the woolen mills in Franklin, N. J., which have since been known as the Essex Works.

Apparently the next use to which the point was put was for the transshipping of freight, for we are told that rather more than fifty years ago this was a landing where vessels unloaded coal and other commodities which those from the back country, even so far as Bloomfield, were wont to cart home by way of the Division road and Murphy’s lane.

About 1855 our old Point House, which some say was built 150 years ago, was owned by George Jackson, who manufactured fireworks here, while his brother Charles followed the same trade in a small building just north. He is said to have paid $400 for the property. About once in so often the fireworks factory would explode, and it made such a nuisance of itself because of these irregular excursions heavenward that Mr. Gould, who lived just across the way, purchased the property in order to quiet his nerves.

From fireworks to firewater sounds like an easy transition, and so we come to the Holt regime. The Holts and a brother of Mrs. Holt, Ed. Moorehouse, lived in the King house (which we have passed without knowing it, and to which we shall go back shortly) and some time before 1865 removed to the Point House, and here again was trouble for the neighbors, for while this was not a regular tavern, it would appear that a certain black bottle was part of its furniture, and that that black bottle was a magnet which no servant girl of the time and region could resist. Now a drunken cook is not generally regarded as any great addition to the family menage, as I am informed. It was no small undertaking to find a cook who would go so far into the country as this region then was, and when found, to have her almost immediately go astray via the Point House, was considered highly provoking.

The Holts made their own root beer, and there is a story to the effect that while a party of well known Newarkers was in the place one day a keg of this same beer, which stood on the bar, exploded and deluged the visitors with a combination of liquid sassafras and wintergreen that was shocking to see and worse to bear, and it is recorded that those inundated failed to discover a funny side to the experience.

The “Floating Palace”, kept by Ed. Holt, appears to have been a laudable effort on his part to benefit his friends and neighbors by catering to those who frequented the river. This was a boat anchored in the middle of the stream, which was reached by customers in small boats. It appears to be commonly thought that Ed. had a government license, but no local permit to retail liquor, and the boat was supposed to overcome the difficulty by straddling the county line. But one who knew Ed. well and knew the kind of a place he kept tells me that he sold nothing stronger than beer, and endeavored in every way to keep the boat of such a character that respectable parties could stop for refreshment, and that he was ably seconded in this by his Scotch-Irish wife, whose influence was all for good. Under more favorable circumstances Ed. Holt might have developed into a leading citizen. He was a man of character and of very temperate habits himself; a carpenter by trade, he always refused to employ men who were habitual drinkers.

For a short time there was a second floating palace anchored in Dead Man’s bend, nearly opposite the lower end of Green Island, which was thoroughly disreputable, and it is probable that the reputation of this was unjustly extended to Holt’s place, for many people are to-day of the opinion that the latter was not as clean as it might have been. The Floating Palace burned to the water’s edge while Ed. Holt was still proprietor, and the experiment was not tried again.

The Point House was long known to oarsmen as the training ground of some of the famed scullers of the world. Captain Chris. Van Emburgh, mariner, was one of the noted characters who frequented the place; he was an old Passaic river skipper and came originally from its eastern bank.

Quite within the memory of those who are now beginning to be numbered with the older inhabitants, the place was one of the picturesque features of the river. Here were benches placed beneath the graceful willows which adorned the banks of the point; it was a good vantage ground from which to view the boat races when the local Tritons were trying their powers of endurance against outside barbarians. There were boats to let here, as full many a lover knew. But as the river became more and more foul such diversions ceased, and to-day the Point House stands shorn of all its old time attractions.

Old Black Tom was a well known, and many times damned, neighbor of the Point House. This was a large rock which lay almost in the middle of the channel, which at this point came close in to the western shore; at low water it was just covered, and one of the amusements of the boys was to step on the rock from a boat, when the person so doing had the appearance of walking on the water. But what was not so amusing, at least to the river men, was for a boat to run on the rock when the tide was falling. The canal boats which carried bricks or coal above frequently fell victims and, as every one knows how earnestly a rusty canaler talks when excited, there is no need to attempt a reproduction here.

It seemed natural to step from Green Island to the Point House and now, having disposed of the latter, we shall go back as far as the Gully road.

Just at the bend of the road on the north side stood, within the memory of man, a pump which was long a popular warm weather resort. This was on the old King property. Just when the first King came here, or where from, has not been ascertained; all we know is that a Jasper King was living at the junction of the Gully and River roads, an old man, at the time of the Revolution, and that his son, whose name is not now recalled, was a soldier under General Anthony Wayne and was killed in action. He is said to have been one of those who crossed the Delaware with Washington.

This son left one child, a son named Jasper, born July 18, 1775, who was brought up by his grandfather. Because of the confusion of tongues due to the similarity of name, the younger Jasper was nicknamed “Poddy”, this being a sort of explanatory title which is supposed to have described his midship section.

This grandson enlisted for the War of 1812 and was stationed at Sandy Hook, he never saw active service in the field, but served his time out and was honorably discharged. He married Phœbe Budd, January 6, 1795, and about 1817 built the house which formerly stood in the bend of the road. Mrs. Henry Davis, a granddaughter of this Jasper, recalls having heard her mother relate how, when Jasper was a very young child, he was taken by his mother to see the husband and father off to the war, and how the mother lifted him up so that the father, who was on horseback, could kiss the child good-bye. The father was killed in action and the child never saw him again.

The poorly shod condition of the soldiers at this time led to the throwing of their caps in the snow to stand in while waiting for the order to march. (This same tradition has also been handed down in the Phillips family, as noted elsewhere).

A story current in the King family indicates that a detachment of British or Hessian troops was camped at one time near the King house. For it is told how the young child Jasper was induced by these soldiers to bring them apples and potatoes from his grandfather’s cellar. He was too young to appreciate what he was doing, but the grandfather soon caught him at it, and put a stop to it. This story would indicate that the invaders were not always such merciless marauders as is generally supposed. The orchard from which these apples came was situated on the Gibbs’ hill and was noted for the fine quality of its fruit.

The last Jasper, who died October 1, 1854, had two sons, William and John, and eight daughters. John was a ship-builder, his yard being located in North Belleville. William was a brass molder and later had a sash and blind factory in Newark; he was noted as a temperance lecturer and traveled the country over in the cause.

One of the incidents of the Revolutionary period had somewhat to do with the King house. A son of Joseph Hedden, Jr., “the martyr patriot” of Newark, escaped from his father’s house while the British soldiers were dragging the senior out of his bed and into the street. The boy, though but half clad, jumped from a window and ran to the Passaic river at Lombardy street and up the river on the ice and snow to the Gully road.

He stopped at the older King house for information and such scant clothing as they could afford to share with him and, believing that the soldiers were after him left by the Gully road for the Long Hill or Bloomfield road, where he found refuge in the house of a friend named Morris and was furnished with stimulants, food and clothing, and had his frozen feet treated.

The King house was later included in the Gibbs purchase and was occupied by the gardener employed by Mr. Gibbs, and while so used it was destroyed by fire. Mrs. Gibbs remembers the building as a typical old frame farm house snuggled down under the shelter of the hill, embowered in roses and so picturesquely situated as to make her long for the simple life.

There have been many stories in the past of Captain Kidd and his buried treasure, and there has been much digging in the fields hereabout by those who would acquire riches without due process of labor, but the only find that I have heard of occurred where the Gully road joins the River road.

The building of the Erie Railroad necessitated a change where the Gully becomes the River road, and a strip some eighty feet wide was lopped off the Gibbs property. When the fence was moved back certain articles of silver were dug up by the workmen in the slender triangle which now lies between the drive and the railroad. The matter was kept quiet, presumably through fear that the stuff would be claimed, and the pieces disappeared before any one could inspect them.

Where this occurred would have been just in front of the older King house and it is possible that these articles were family treasures buried during the Revolution in fear of a British raid.

A story has come down from the elders to the effect that at some point in the game of war two detachments of British troops were foraging in this region apparently each “unbeknownst” to the other, for the legend has it that while one was on the River road nearly opposite Jasper King’s, the other, which was on higher ground, mistook them for the enemy and fired a volley among them, whereupon the hirelings rushed for the cover of the river bank, which was much higher then than now, and in their excitement threw their guns into the river. Some of these guns were recovered after the war by fishermen.

What has been known to most of those now living as the Gibbs house is an imposing brown stone edifice which was built by Governor Pennington for his daughter Mary when she became the wife of Hugh Toler. In due time the place was sold to Mr. Alfred H. Gibbs, and has since been known as Thornhill. It was a sightly place with the river at its feet.

The next place north was that known of late as the Terhune place, which stands just above the Riverside station. The original dweller on or near this site is said to have been a Maverick, but nothing more than this is known. Then came one Matthew Banks who, according to story, was so lazy that he hoed his corn on horseback. Mr. Banks was quite as much fisherman as farmer, and spent much of his time on the river, and they do say that the old fellow would turn a penny now and then by selling herring for shad to the unsophisticated. Older residents tell me that there was formerly a hill of some altitude between this place and the river which cut out any view of the water from the house, and to which children were taken on Fourth of July nights as a vantage point from which to view the fireworks. Mr. Banks came here about 1820 and was possibly the last slave owner in this neighborhood. He is said to have purchased a negro from John Hawthorn, the quarryman, and, when he sold the place, among the chattels he wished to dispose of was a colored boy aged 14 years, “used to farm work”.

After Matthew Banks a Mr. Small, who was the head printer in the Daily Advertiser office, took up his residence here, and following him, if I have the history right, came Mr. Terhune, who built the present house. Here also lived Mr. Horace Carter while his own dwelling was building on the Gully road, and thus we come to modern times.

“Second day of July in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and ninety-one, Abraham Sandford, Jr., of New Barbadoes Bergen County, bought from Thomas Eagles and wife Mary a certain parcel of land. Beginning at the road that leads from Newark to Second river at the east corner of the land of Abraham Stivers”, etc. So runs the old deed which announces the advent of the Sandford family on this side of the river.

Captain William Sandford, the original settler of the name in this country, came from the Barbadoes Islands in 1668 as the representative of Nathaniel Kingsland “of the same Island of Barbadoes, Esq.” He purchased “all that Neck of Land lying and being between Pisaick and Hackingsack Rivers”. The lower seven miles of this tract beginning at Newark bay and extending to the copper mine, and “Commonly then known by the name of New Barbadoes” fell in due course to Captain Sandford. The Captain was a noted man in his day. In 1682 he was commissioned Attorney of the Province, in 1699 he was appointed by Governor Carteret one of his two deputy governors during the absence of the Governor in England; he was for years in the Governor’s Council and prominent in affairs of church and state.

The Abraham Sandford, Jr., who was the first of the name to settle on the west bank of the Passaic, was a great-great-grandson of William Sandford. He built the house (1794-5) which still stands, but in a greatly remodeled condition, just below and opposite the Point House, and which is to-day occupied by his grandchildren. As the family grew and multiplied this particular branch was known as the “Pine Tree Sandfords”, owing to the fact that a magnificent tree of the species long flourished near the dwelling.

The tract originally purchased by Abraham Sandford, Jr., comprised about thirty acres, extending to the Back road. In 1801 he added to his possessions by purchasing the river front from Simeon Stivers, and in 1817 bought an adjoining half acre from Stewart Elder. Abraham, Jr., had three children: Susan, Maria and Abraham A. The son married Charity Yansen, whose father was a soldier of the Revolution; they resided on the homestead; their children were Elizabeth M., Emma L., Mary O. and Frank. The first and last of these still live in the old house.

Polly Van Winkle was one of the picturesque figures of the River road some two or three generations ago. The neighbors appear to have stood in some fear of her lest she take offense and vent her displeasure by setting fire to their property; thus she came and went much as it pleased her. She appears to have had no home of her own, but carried all her worldly goods in a pack on her back, and when she appeared at some door it was to walk in and make herself at home, declining to go no matter how broad the hints that were dropped. She never wished a bed, always preferring to sleep on the floor close to her bundle, which was never allowed to leave her sight.

Next as we progress northward is the Munn house.

The Munns came to America from England or Wales, and were among the early Newark settlers from New England. Captain Benjamin Munn of Hartford, Conn., served in the Pequot Indian War of 1637. He removed to Springfield, 1649; was probably killed by the Indians, 1675. His two sons, John and James, were in the Indian fight at Turners Falls, 1676. John settled in Westfield, died 1684, leaving a widow and two sons, John and Benjamin. The widow married, 1686, John Richards, the schoolmaster of Westfield, and removed with him and her two boys to Deerfield, where his house was burned in the destruction of the town by the French and Indians in 1704. A few years afterward he removed to Newark, N. J., where he was the schoolmaster in 1718. His stepson, John Munn, married Mary, sister of John Richards and widow of John Ward, about 1720, and had Joseph, Samuel and Benjamin. Benjamin was born 1730 and died 1818—lived all his life on his farm, now the town of East Orange. Two of his sons, David and Amos, served in the Revolutionary War. After the war Amos married a daughter of Silas Dod and settled in Bloomfield—died in 1808, leaving Silas and other children. Silas continued his business till 1825, when he removed with his wife and two boys, William Alonzo and Bethuel, to the old Col. Van Cortland place on the Passaic, just below the mouth of Second river. Here he resided five years—1825-1830—during which time his son Henry Benson and daughter Emeline were born. He then moved to Belleville, where he lost his daughter Emeline, and where his son Silas, Jr., was born.

In 1850 he purchased the Van Emburgh place, consisting of four or five acres, opposite the old Point House.

This tract was conveyed on June 7, 1790, by Gaspars Van Winkle and wife and Aurentee Due, heirs of Gideon and Mary Smith, to Abraham Van Emburgh. Most of the property remained in the Van Emburgh family until sold to Silas Munn, March 16, 1850. At this time there were two small dwellings on the land, one was moved back and converted into a barn, the other was moved, remodeled and added to in 1893 and is still standing. Here Silas died in 1873.

The children of Silas were William Alonzo, Bethuel, Silas, Henry Benson and Emeline. William Alonzo married a sister of John Boyd of Woodside, and removed to New York; his second wife was Hannah Wilson, with whom he removed to Milwaukee, where he died in 1876. Bethuel married Sarah, another sister of John Boyd, and after the death of his mother, in 1866, occupied the house on the River road until his decease in 1899. Henry Benson studied law, moved to Madison and Portage City, Wis., of which latter place he was elected mayor, and from which he was sent to the Legislature. He finally removed to Washington, D. C., where he still resides; he has owned the homestead for many years. Silas, Jr., followed civil engineering, went west and finally settled on a farm near Grant City, Mo., where he now resides.

Next in order stands the Esley Melius house. Old deeds in the possession of Mr. Theo. Melius tell us that on December 11, 1799, Abraham Van Emburgh and Rhoda, his wife, sold to John P. Sandford for the sum of $3.84, at a place called Belleville, a part of a water lot, which the said Abraham Van Emburgh purchased from Elisha Boudinot, Esqr., by a deed bearing date November 12, 1799; this adjoined the lot “now conveyed” to Charles Hedenburgh.

March 20, 1866, John I. Sandford and Rhoda, his wife; Asa Torry and Mary, his wife; Catherine Udall and Sarah Hopson quitclaimed the above water lot to Rachael Sandford, this being part of the real estate of the late John P. Sandford.

March 20, 1860, Rachael Sandford deeded the above water lot to Ezra Gould for the sum of $500.

These transfers show the ownership of the waterfront of the Melius place since 1799, and possibly some time before that date.

The north part of the present Melius house was erected by John Stimis, probably at the same time that he erected his own house, just above, 1805. Amos Munn, son of Benjamin, of East Orange, and father of Silas Munn, ancestor of the River road branch, born 1763, died 1808, was at the time of his death building a dwelling on the lot now occupied by the Foster Home; his executors exchanged the unfinished building for a two-acre lot, which is now part of the Melius homestead. In 1811 the executors sold the lot to Jean Baptiste Bacque. Later there dwelt here one Hedenburgh, if I am correctly informed; then a Vincent whose daughter, Dorcas, married Gilbert Pullinger—the Pullinger reign lasted from 1830 to 1836. Mrs. Pullinger appears to have been a character with more loves than come to most of us. After her came the Duncans, a Zeiss, William Patterson, Ezra Gould and Esley Melius.

By a deed dated October 1, 1853, John R. Sked and Sarah C., his wife, sold the property, which was in shape like the letter L, and which inclosed on two sides the property of Charles Daugherty, to Ezra Gould, subject to several mortgages held by William Patterson and others. And on May 1, 1857, Charles Daugherty and Rachael, his wife, sold to Ezra Gould a lot purchased in 1849 from William Patterson, which squared the Gould property.

April 12, 1866, Peter M. Myers and wife sold the Ezra Gould property to Sarah A. Melius, wife of Esley Melius, and the property has since remained in the Melius family.

Mrs. Melius was a daughter of Samuel Rust, the inventor of the Washington press, which was the foundation on which the great firm of R. Hoe & Co. was builded. The daughter received the best education that the times afforded girls, being placed first at a leading school in Poughkeepsie, then at the West Point Academy on Lake Champlain, and was given a finishing polish at Mrs. Jackson’s school on Broadway, New York, which was located just above Prince street on the site later occupied by the Metropolitan Hotel. She was a woman of strong convictions and was in her day a magazine writer of some note.

There is a story current that Mrs. Melius once held the Erie Railroad up at the point of her parasol by standing in the middle of the track and shaking that weapon at the approaching engine, which naturally stopped all a-tremble, whereupon the lady climbed on board a car and enjoyed a ride to New York. Just how much of this is fact and how much is fancy is not altogether clear at this distance.

The next house that can claim the dignity of age is that built about 1805 by Mr. John Stimis, son of Christopher, and occupied during our early days by Col. Gilbert W. Cumming, and at present by the Andersons.

Christopher Stimis was the first of the name to settle in this neighborhood. He came some time before the Revolution, from a place then known as Weasel which, according to the Erskin Map No. 82 (made for the use of General Washington during the Revolution), was situated along the Passaic river, west side, some 3-4 miles north of the “Achquackhenonk” bridge (the present town of Passaic).

Christopher married a daughter of the house of Coeyman and built his home, on land that had come to his wife from her father’s estate, a few hundred feet north of the present Melius house. When the Revolutionary war came Christopher enlisted, and while in the army took a heavy cold and died of hasty consumption.

Christopher had two sons, John (1) and Henry (1).

John (1) had five sons: John, Peter, Christopher, Henry and William (the latter is the only one of this generation now living).

Henry (1), who lived in the old homestead just south of John, had four sons: John, Abraham, James and Thomas.

The above information comes from Mr. William Stimis, now 87 years of age, a grandson of Christopher. His memory is clear and he is quite certain of his facts.

While the first Stimis did not keep a tavern in the ordinary sense, he did know how to brew beer, and for many years the house was a stopping place for thirsty souls. Even as late as the Revolution the brewing of beer was continued, for I am informed that the place was frequented both by Hessians from across the river and by such Continental soldiers as happened in the neighborhood.

There is a story which has been handed down in the Stimis family to the effect that some Hessians, while on this side, were hard pressed by a superior force of Americans, and in their haste to get away were compelled to bury certain treasure or loot of some sort in the field back of the Stimis house, toward Washington avenue. This treasure has been dug for within my own recollection, but so far as known was never found. The Hessians also left behind in the Stimis house some muskets and a camp kettle which are still in the possession of members of the family.

One of the characters of the River road some fifty or more years ago was “General” James or “Old Two Bottles”, as he was more familiarly known. General James was a shoemaker who lived under the bank, two hundred feet or so below the limekiln; in fact at about the spot known to my youth as “the Cedars”, where we boys learned to swim and had our clothes tied in knots to a chant which, as I remember it, went something like this:—

By wetting the article of clothing and pulling hard two boys could draw tight a knot which took both hands and all the teeth the owner of the aforementioned article had to work loose.

The General lived near the water’s edge in a little hut of stone and wood. The old shanty leaked so that when the rain fell he and his wife sought refuge under the family umbrella, so the story goes.

Near his house was a spring of good water, but what interested the youth of the neighborhood more was the legend of a cave close by where Captain Kidd is said to have stowed treasure. This was supposed to be at a spot where were more stones than nature would seem properly to have gathered together, and this the boys would now and then pry into, but so far as known nothing came of it but an occasional backache.

Presumably his close contact with the river bred a contempt for water that became more and more pronounced as the old fellow advanced in years, when to the few who can now recall him he was a well known character. Possibly he once drank some water which did not agree with him—possibly he supposed it was only intended for the floating of boats (none has as yet made this point clear), but, whatever the cause, our friend was very particular not to tamper with his constitution by drinking any more of the stuff. Hence the jug which was his constant companion when visiting Newark.

The General had a private path, just above the reach of high tide, which came out on the main road near the Point House, and every Saturday afternoon wife Rachael and he would journey southward. They always walked single file, the old lady some fifty to one hundred feet in the rear—presumably this was to insure the safety of the jug, a rear guard, as it were, to protect the supplies, a precautionary measure which would naturally occur to a military man.

Possibly our “General” was a veteran of the war with nature: that certainly is a satisfactory way to account for his title. Just how he came by the secondary title of “Old Two Bottles” is not quite clear, but it is said that it was the result of high words in the family. Mrs. General, it seems, longed for something more substantial than the rear to guard, and appears to have made an unwelcome suggestion that two bottles would be better than one jug and, being some distance behind the conversation was carried on in an elevated tone of voice, and as the General’s rate of locomotion was about a mile an hour the neighbors came easily by the story.

The General and his wife occupy unmarked graves in the neglected burial ground above the Weiler house.

The next house of which there is any memory was a brick structure at the southwest corner of the River and Division roads. This was the property of, and presumably built by, “Jim” Alexander (James G. Alexander?), who came from Newark and passed the place many times as he drove the stage from Newark to Belleville. Alexander was a North of Ireland man who came to Belleville after a brief sojourn in Paterson. For a time he drove a stage between Belleville and New York, and also between Belleville and Newark. He married a Coeyman and thus came into possession of a farm which extended from Grafton avenue south to the Henry Stimis place, and from the river back to Summer avenue. He is said to have run the limekiln at one time.

Alexander’s house burned and he removed to Belleville, where he became somewhat eccentric, parading the streets barefoot and with a silk hat on his head, in which costume he would preach whenever the curious were willing to form a congregation. There are stories current which indicate that he had a ready wit and a tongue sharper than a two-edged sword.

We have come to the Division road, now Grafton avenue, so far as this end of it is concerned. Opposite, on the river bank, stood for many years the limekiln erected by three Englishmen: Thomas Vernon, Thomas Farrand and John T. Grice. This performed its offices without doing serious damage to the landscape. The last to burn lime here was Mr. Francis Tompkins, but the old Newark Lime & Cement Company was finally too much for him, and he went under. Between the burnings of lime there was little activity about the place, and as time went on it became little more than a picturesque wreck, and thirty years ago or more the old kiln ceased work entirely. Then came Mr. Benfield who, as some of his facetious neighbors were fond of saying, had a process for extracting gold from stone fences. So far as I have any knowledge of the matter, the process was all right, but it cost more to extract the gold than it would bring in the open market, and so in a certain sense the experiment was not a success, and it resulted in the erection of unsightly buildings which have been added to from time to time by others who would do things here, until from being a picturesque ruin the place has grown to be one of the ugliest sights on the river bank.

Above Grafton avenue, on the corner, stood the frame house of John McDonald, who married a Coeyman (he was a calico printer by trade), and opposite, between road and river, stood a small frame house occupied by James Coeyman. Above, on the west, was the brick house of Levi Coeyman, and next the frame house of John DeHush Coeyman, while on the site now occupied by the large brick house built by Peter Weiler stood the home of Minard Coeyman, the hive of the Coeymans. Just above, where the brook crossed the road, was the house of Henry Coeyman, and just beyond that of John Coeyman, later occupied by William McDonald and by one Worthington. A cannon ball and numerous Indian relics have been ploughed up on this property. The last three buildings were torn down by Mr. Weiler when he built about 1860. The only other house below Second river was the original Van Cortlandt stone house.

Peter Coeymans of Utrecht, in the Netherlands, had seven children. His five sons sailed from Holland in the ship Rensselaerswyck, October 1, 1636, and settled in Albany, N. Y. The youngest of the boys was Lucas Pieterse Coeymans. “May 14th, 9th year of William 3d of England (1698) Leukes Coeman of the towne of Newark yeoman”, bought of Gerrit Hollaer of the city of New York, land lying on the Passaic river, in the “toune” of Newark and County of Essex, “where the said Leukes Coeman now livith”. This deed was acknowledged January 17, 1699.

The children of Lucas Peterse Coeymans and Arientie, his wife, all of whom were born in Albany, N. Y., were:—

Geertie Koemans, who married Harmanus Bras, October 5, 1695, at Hackensack.

Marytie Koeymans, who married Cornelis Tomese, August 8, 1696, at Hackensack.

Johannes Koeymans, who married Rachel Symen Van Winckle (of Acquackanonk), March 6, 1708, at Hackensack.

Januetie Koemans, who married Gideon Symen Van Winkle (of Acquackanonk), March 13, 1708.

Very little has been preserved concerning the Coeyman family, and probably the only way to trace the line from Johannes down to Minard would be by a long search of old titles. Minard Coeyman is said to have served during the Revolution under Colonel Van Cortlandt.

Minard had sons: Henry M., Peter, William, Thomas and John.

Henry M. had a son, James A., whose son, Albert J., now lives in Belleville.

Peter had sons: Levi and Minard.

There is a legend in the Coeyman family to the effect that it at one time owned all the land between Second river and the Gully road, and that the land purchased by Van Cortlandt was sold to him by a Coeyman. That, if correct, would carry the property north to Second river. Its southern boundary has only been traced as far as the present Melius property. Mr. William Stimis tells me that the first Christopher Stimis who came here married a Coeyman, who received as her portion of the estate six acres, which included the land occupied by the late Henry Stimis and extended to the present Melius property. Mr. William Stimis thinks that his grandmother, the wife of Christopher, above, was a daughter of Andrew Coeyman and a sister of Minard Coeyman, but he is not sure of this. Mr. Daniel F. Tompkins has made the statement that the Coeyman property once extended from the Gully road to Second river and westward to include Forest Hill.

A Coeyman reminiscence tells how, in order to save their bedding and household linen from the rapacity of the soldiers it was placed on the barn floor and covered deep with hay, and how the soldiers came along and began to use up the hay and the pile went down and down and down, until there were only four feet between the invaders and discovery, but at this point the troops left the locality and the bedding remained in the family.

The army lay on the Coeyman farm long enough to cut down every forest tree that stood thereon, and all the fine old trees that we knew thirty years ago are said to have come into being since then. The same story is told of General Wayne’s troops, who camped along the Back road, and probably the above refers to this same time.

November 21, 1776, General Washington and the troops from Fort Lee left Hackensack by the Pollifly road, crossed over to the old Paramus road and reached the bridge at Acquackanonk (now the town of Passaic) about noon. Crossing there the bridge was destroyed to delay the pursuing British under Cornwallis. On the 22d Washington and 3,500 or more troops left Acquackanonk for Newark. The forces were divided, some going over the hill to Bloomfield, the others keeping down the River road and thus entering Newark.

This was one of the most bitter periods of the Revolutionary struggle; everything was apparently going against the American cause, and it was a bedraggled and disheartened company that marched down our River road on that 22d day of November. Thomas Paine participated in this retreat across New Jersey, and it was this that inspired his “Crisis”, which begins: “These are the times that try men’s souls”, and it was at Newark on November 23d that Washington wrote: “The situation of our affairs is truly critical, and such as requires uncommon exertion on our part.” The way in which Washington handled this, as other desperate situations, has placed him in the front rank of commanders the world over. His “Fabian” policy of masterly inaction in front of forces vastly superior to his own, combined with his ability to recognize and take advantage of the opportunity when it arrived, was marvelous.

Cornwallis did not attempt to cross the river until November 26th. Apparently he had no wish to capture the American troops, as he spent something like a week in the Passaic Valley, foraging on the country as he went, and progressing in a most leisurely manner.

Stephen Van Cortlandt, twelfth child of Col. Stephanus Van Cortlandt by his wife, Gertrude Schuyler, was born 11, August, 1695; married 28, August, 1713, Catalina Staats, daughter of Dr. Samuel Staats by his first wife, Johanna Rynders. He resided at “Second River” (now Belleville), Essex County, N. J. Issue:

1. Johanna Van Cortlandt, born 3, February, 1714; died without issue.

2. Gertrude Van Cortlandt, born 23, February, 1715; married Johannes Van Rensselaer.

3. Stephanus Van Cortlandt, born 19, September, 1716; died without issue.

4. Samuel Van Cortlandt, born 22, December, 1717; died without issue.

5. John Van Cortlandt, born 16, February, 1721; died 29, June, 1786. Married Hester Bayard.

6. Philip Van Cortlandt, born in 1725; died 1800 without issue. He commanded a New Jersey Regiment in the Revolution.

7. Sarah Van Cortlandt died without issue.

John (above) had a son Stephen, born 11, August, 1750, and Stephen had two daughters—Elizabeth, who married John Van Rensselaer, and Hester, who married James Van Cortlandt. (The above is from Mrs. Catharine T. R. Mathews, nee Van Cortlandt, an authority on the family genealogy.)

The old Van Cortlandt house, which is described below, stood about midway between Second river and the G. L. R. R. tracks, facing the Passaic, and also the road, for at that time the highway kept very close to the water’s edge but, owing to the frequent flooding of this low land and consequent washouts, the road was finally set back to its present line. Fifty years ago this was known as the “new” road.

There is some uncertainty as to when this house was built, for if Dr. Staats gave the house now known as the Belleville Hotel to his daughter at the time of her marriage, as some think, Stephen Van Cortlandt would hardly have erected a second dwelling, at least until a son or daughter married and desired to start a new establishment. During the later years of its existence the old house is said to have been haunted by a ghost nine feet high and hump-backed, and the place had an uncanny reputation—misfortune was said to follow its tenants. Old residents told of skeletons in its musty closets, and one of the Van Cortlandt family is said to have become insane while living here, but what the tragedy was, if any, has not been recorded.

Mr. Silas Munn says in his fragmentary diary that when he moved into the old Van Cortlandt house many people said that it was the abode of “hobgoblins” and that ill fortune followed its occupants—then followed the statement that at the end of two years he was taken down with malarial fever—lost a flock of sheep—two valuable horses, one of which was killed by a foul with another on the road, and lost so much money in his business that he was obliged to suspend and take boarders. Bad luck seemed to follow all its subsequent occupants till finally, in 1878, the old house was destroyed by fire.

The house was after the pattern of those built by the Dutch farmers at an early day. A broad hall ran through the centre, at either end were heavy doors, divided horizontally, so that only one-half need be opened at a time and thus leave the occupant free to talk with a caller without intrusion. A broad garden extended from the road to the house, a spacious barn was nearby, while orchards of rare apples and pears extended on either side and on the opposite side of the road was another orchard of fine fruit. The property in 1829 adjoined that of Minard Coeyman. It was then known as the estate of Colonel Van Cortlandt. Silas Munn, under date of September 2, 1829. writes that he was requested by Minard Coeyman to attend with G. Dow and fix the line between his land and that of the estate of Van Cortlandt, when it was found that the estate had inclosed 300 rods of Coeyman’s land.

The first Mrs. John Van Rensselaer, who has been heard by Mrs. Kay to say that she was married in the house south of Second river, used to caution the young girls of her acquaintance against too long delay and overmuch prinking, and she was somewhat fond of citing herself and her sister as examples.

It seems that when John Van Rensselaer came down from Albany to spy out the land and its fair daughters, he came to the Van Cortlandt house, where the two girls were living, and word was brought upstairs to the young ladies that the gentleman was below awaiting them. Whereupon “Bess” was for going down immediately, dressed as she was, but the sister, thinking that a few more furbelows would add to her charms, remained behind and spent a half hour or so before the glass.

This, of course, gave “Bess” an opportunity with the visitor which she improved to such good purpose that the matter of the future Mrs. Van Rensselaer was practically settled by the time the much beautified sister appeared on the scene. The story I have from Mrs. Mary E. Tucker who, when a girl, was told the incident by Mrs. Van Rensselaer herself.

About 1830 an Englishman named Duxbury was living in the Van Cortlandt house. He had been brought over to act as general superintendent of the print works. John Van Rensselaer, whose father married Elizabeth Van Cortlandt, became very much interested in Margaret Duxbury, and they were finally married. Thus two John Van Rensselaers in succession went to the old house for their brides; the children of John 2d were James, Cortlandt and Catherine.

On the Erskin map No. 79, known as “From Newark, through Acquackononk to Gothum” this house is marked “storehouse”, while to the house north of Second river (now the Belleville Hotel) is attached the name of Stephen Van Cortlandt.

This same map shows the old Coeyman house to have been occupied by Hendrick Coeyman; another house just north of this is not named, and these three are the only houses noted on this map on the River road between Second river and the Gully road, though the old Stimis house must have been standing at this time, and it is probable that the first King house was also then in existence.

Mr. James S. Taylor tells me that in hauling for shad on the reef just below Second river, which was formerly only two feet under water at low tide, it was no uncommon thing to scoop up occasional shells from the bottom of a bigness of three to four inches in diameter. The Decatur Powder Works were formerly situated just above on the north bank of Second river, and whether these shells were a relic of that institution or were some reminiscence of the Revolution no one seems to know.

But few of the stones are left in the old Coeyman burial ground, which lies just north of the Weiler house. The following is a complete list of those standing at the present time:—

Sacred to the memory of Thomas Holden, oldest son of Levi and Hannah Holden, who was born in Massachusetts on the 5th day of September, 1779, and departed this life 20th day of May, 1820, after a very protracted and severe illness. Aged 40 years, 8 mo. and 15 days.

L. H. In memory of Levi Holden, son of Thomas and Anne Holden, who was born in Massachusetts August 19th, 1799. Drowned 19th July, 1806.

The New Jersey Historical Society has in its possession two Indian stone hatchets and a number of arrow points which were dug from the river bank 300 to 500 feet above Grafton avenue by Mr. William Jackson. Indian relics have been dug up at numerous points along the River road.

About 1837 there was much mystery concerning a certain “Button” factory on Second river, near the Passaic, which was run by one Thomas Thomas. Twice each year a vessel would ascend the Passaic and drop anchor opposite Grafton avenue; no one ever came ashore from her, and all sorts of rumors were spread in regard to her. Some said she was a smuggler, others a pirate. After nightfall there were mysterious trips from the “Button” factory to the schooner, men trundled heavy casks down to the water’s edge and these were transferred to the vessel which, in due time, sailed away with the awful secret buried deep in her hold.

It seems that Thomas was engaged in manufacturing money which was sent to Brazil. Mr. William Stimis, who ran the milling machine in the “Button” factory states that copper coins of two sizes were made. One marked “40” was the size of a silver half dollar, and one marked “80” the size of a dollar. Jos. Gardner was engaged to engrave the dies. The place was raided two or three times on the theory that counterfeiting was going on, and Gardner was arrested at least once.

NOTE—The following was received from Mrs. Mathews too late to insert it in its proper place. Mrs. Mathews thinks that the house south of Second river was built by John Van Cortlandt (5), son of the Stephen Van Cortlandt who married Catalina Staats. It was his grand-daughter Elizabeth who married John Van Rensselaer in the old house.

NOTE—The inscription below was omitted from its proper place in the list of those stones now standing in the Coeyman burial ground:—

Division road, or Boot Leg lane, was merely a cross road, connecting the River and Back roads. This followed the present lines of Grafton avenue and Halleck street with that bit of Washington avenue which lies between, the jog being accounted for by a hill, which it was necessary to circumvent.

The first house built on the lane was that of James Campbell, a silk printer by trade, who worked in the factory of his brother, Peter, in Belleville. This was situated at the foot of the hill in what is now the northeast corner of Washington and Grafton avenues. It was later occupied by Mr. Kennedy, the florist. The next house was built by Mr. William Stimis (who gives me these facts) about opposite the above on Washington avenue.

The third house erected was that of Mr. William Tobey (Halleck street), an Englishman who was employed in the Bird factory. Mr. Tobey is described as a stocky man, genial, full of story and pleasant wit, and he appears to be remembered as something of a character. The place was added to by Morrison and Briggs, and here Charles Morrison is said to have lived for a time. Then came Mr. Stent, the architect, who designed the present entrance to Mount Pleasant Cemetery. The house is at present used for beer bottling purposes. Halleck street was at one time known as “Tobey’s” lane.

The fourth house was that of Gilbert Stimis, on the south side of Halleck street, and the fifth and last until we come to modern times was the Edgecombe house, erected about 1858. The family consisted of the mother and three daughters. They are said to have come here from Paramus.

Mrs. Charles Holt, who is 71 years of age, recalls the time when the Phillips farmhouse was the only house on the lower Back road, between the cemetery and Elwood avenue, and when this stretch was known as “Phillips’s lane”.

As Mr. James S. Taylor remembers it, the only houses along the old Back road, as far back perhaps as 1850, were, beginning at the south:—

First, the John C. Bennett house, built in 1852, at the S. E. corner of Chester avenue; then, almost opposite, the Miles I’Anson house, which now stands on a knoll along the northern border of Chester avenue. Next the Phillips homestead, on the west, just below Delavan avenue, which has since been moved back to Summer avenue. Above this there was no house until the bend, now known as Elwood place, was passed. Some distance beyond here stood a small stone house on the right occupied by an Irishman. This was probably Pat Brady, who in the fifties built just below the present Bryant street. Pat had the reputation of being a child of fortune. It is remembered that, while very poor, he suddenly became well-to-do, and this was only accounted for by the fact that he might have “found a purse”. About opposite the Brady house stood the “Magazine” house back in the field.

Probably the next was the Thomas Coeyman (son of William, who comes next) frame house, opposite the Elliott street school. Then came the William Coeyman house of stone, on the left and just above the head of Halleck street. William Stimis states that his father, John Stimis, worked on this house, which was erected about one hundred years ago. About half way between Irving street and Montclair avenue stood the house of Peter Coeyman (Peter and William were sons of Minard Coeyman of the River road). Next was the Alexander house, a long, low, story-and-a-half frame on the left just south of Verona avenue. Following this was the Jesse Bennett house on the S. W. corner of Verona avenue and opposite this on a lane which probably ran to the River road stood the Riddle house, formerly the J. F. King house. Next the house of Benson, the miller, which still stands at the S. E. corner of Summer and Sylvan avenues. While still further afield, toward the rising sun, stood the house of Jonathan Bird.

The Back road, in a deed made in 1812, is called the “Drift road”, while in 1820 it was “the road leading from Garrit Houghwort’s to Captain Stout’s mill ‘dam’“ (present cemetery to Second river). Now this highway of other days answers to three different names: as Lincoln avenue, Elwood place and Summer avenue. Mr. William Phillips has heard that in 1805 this road was merely a farm lane running not further north than the present Elwood avenue; that here it stopped at a farm, the owner of which would not allow it to pass through his property, and presumably this accounts for the turn at Elwood place, it being a laudable effort to get around the obstructionist. But, as will appear a bit later, General Anthony Wayne marched up this road in 1779, and it seems probable that the date, 1805, is too recent.

When we were boys the Back road began at the “Strawberry” lot, a great ball field where the “Waverlys”, the “Newark Amateurs” and others furnished forth many a holiday. A member of the latter was, I have heard, the first in this neighborhood to pitch a curved ball which, in those days, was a great event. Part of the “Strawberry” lot is still the home of the athlete, for here the Riverside Athletic Club reigned for many years.

Chronologically speaking the history of the Riverside Athletic Club belongs to the second part of this book, but this seems the best place to dwell briefly on the subject.

The club was organized about 1882, with some twenty-five members, among the more prominent of whom were L. P. Teller, William H. Brown, Paul E. Heller, Henry W. Heller, Frank Cadiz, Edmund Pierson and one Linehan. It was known as “the school of the bowlers”, and turned out more good, successful bowlers than any other athletic club in Newark; in fact it almost immediately took a prominent place in athletics generally, its track team was among the best, it was successful in football and had a fine reputation for square, manly sport.

Starting without money, the members laid out the grounds and built the track and tennis courts themselves, but so popular did it become that within two years there were something like three hundred members and the club continued to thrive for many years. Interest began to wane, however, as time went on, and about five years ago the club disbanded.

Shortly thereafter the Park Presbyterian Church purchased the clubhouse, and it was turned over to the Park Athletic Association, a church organization, and is still so occupied, though I believe the association is at present independent of the church.

On the slender point made by the opening of Washington avenue stands the house erected by Mr. Scharff, and which was the home of a Millerite in the early days of Woodside, one Flavel by name, a baker by trade. Whether working over the hot fires of the bakery awoke in Mr. Flavel a desire to reach Heaven before his time, or whether he was one of those uneasy mortals who do not like to stay long in any one place, has not been explained, but he was a Millerite, that point is established. The neighbors still remember how he used to adjourn to the roof, “in his nightgown”, as one unsympathetic informant puts it, for the purpose of being translated, but there was always some hitch, and I believe he finally gave it up and ultimately took the route that is open to all of us.

The “Strawberry” lot belonged to Joseph West, whose house stood, according to the map of 1849, where Washington avenue now cuts into the brotherhood of streets here. The old pump presided over by “Mose” in the days of our youth, and from which the street car horses were watered, was probably the pump attached to the West house. This house may have been built by Gerard Haugevort; it was occupied by him probably 75 years ago. It was also occupied, about 1845, by old “Mammy” Pullinger, who started life on the River road, as a groggery and a rather low resort. When Washington avenue was cut through Mr. Nichols moved the building a few hundred feet down the Gully road, where it stands to-day.

Adjoining the West property on the north, and on the west side of the Back road was a narrow strip of land owned by Jesse Bennett, then came the Miles I’Anson property, which extended to that owned by John Morris Phillips, who also owned to the bend in the road, now Elwood place—this on the left. On the right the earliest map giving the names of owners, and which is probably not older than 1865 shows, for the same stretch, H. H. Nichols, John C. Bennett, Stoutenburg & Co., Romaine and Parker & Keasbey.

There is a story of one of the old residents here who was not given to taking impudence from anyone, particularly from those in his employ. He at one time had an obstinate Irishman to deal with, and dealt with him after the following fashion:—

It seems that for some piece of impertinence our citizen knocked his Irish employee down and jumped on him, remarking as he did so: “I’ll teach you to be a gentleman”, to which the under dog as promptly responded, “I defy you”. Our friend soon had his misguided opponent by the ears and was thumping his face into the dirt with a right good will (“laddy-holing” I believe this particular process is called), and with each movement of his arms he repeated over and over again his earnest desire to make a gentleman of the Irishman, to which the latter continued vehemently to respond, “I defy you! I defy you!” Whether he succeeded in his laudable efforts is not recorded, but he can at least be commended for his zeal in the matter.

About 60 years ago a number of Englishmen settled in the northern part of Newark. This immigration was due to two causes: financial depression in the mother country and the Chartist agitation, 1839-1848. Among those who came over at this time was Mr. Miles I’Anson, who settled in the Woodside district, where he purchased a farm of about 30 acres, including the property south of the Phillips homestead, extending about as far as the present May street, on the west side of Lincoln avenue.

It was Mr. I’Anson, it is said, who first suggested the name of Woodside for this locality.

A search of the I’Anson property made by Mr. Daniel F. Tompkins for Mr. I’Anson contains many interesting items and names, and is here quoted from at length.

By a deed dated December 10, 1812, Richard L. Walker and wife sold the Back road property to Peter Maverick. It is described as being located on the “Drift” road, being bounded southeast on the Drift road northeast by land now or late of David Phillips, northeast (northwest?) and southwest by land now or late belonging to Isaac Plume.

Peter Maverick and his wife Mary on October 5, 1820, mortgaged to Hannah Spencer the above lot and a lot beginning at the southeastern corner of John Hawthorne’s lot on the western side of the “New Road” (probably the Bloomfield turnpike and below the Woodside line), leading from Garret Hogwart’s to Francis King’s; thence on the eastern line of said John Hawthorn’s lot of wood; thence to the northern line of the lot of land belonging to the estate of Isaac N. Kipp, dec’d; thence to the western line of said “New Road”.

January 19, 1833, William Dow, Sheriff, sold to Hannah Spencer the above two tracts of land.

April 1, 1833, Hannah Spencer sold both of these tracts to James Flintoff and George Flintoff.

May 11, 1839, the administrators of James and George Flintoff sold both tracts to William T. Haines.

January 5, 1842, William T. Haines sold the Lincoln avenue lot to David Day.

January 7, 1842, David Day and wife sold the property to Miles I’Anson.

November 19, 1841, William T. Haines and wife sold to William Barnett a part of the tract (as supposed) above referred to as situated on the western side of the “New Road”.

June 9, 1846, William Barnett and wife sold their land to Miles I’Anson.

April 7, 1803, the executors of Isaac Plume, deceased, sold to John Hawthorne land at the northwest side of “the Road or Drift Way Leading out of the Public Road from Newark to Belleville”, thence east to Ebenezer Smith’s land, thence north to David Walker’s land, thence west to the road. (This is copied as the search gave it.)

September 14, 1822, Abraham Reynolds, Sheriff, sold the same land to James Kearney, Esqr., except in the 6th course “sold under Decree in Chancery, dated April 2, 1822, wherein Gerard Haugwort (the various spellings of this name follow those in the search; the correct spelling is probably Haugevort), administrator of Hester Sip, dec’d, is complainant, and John Hawthorn and Margaret his wife, Aaron Munn and Nathaniel Lindsley are defendants.”

September 14, 1822, James Kearney sold to Gerard Haughworth the same land last above.

August 13, 1823, John Hawthorne quitclaimed to Philip Kearney for all his interest in the last above described land.

The last will of John Hawthorne, dated August 18, 1841, and proved April 22, 1844, gives to John P. Hawthorne the lot of land containing 14 acres, called the Hogworth lot.

April 1, 1845, Philip Kearney quitclaimed to John Hawthorne for all his interest in the same land last above described.

March 28, 1845, John P. Hawthorne sold to Miles I’Anson land beginning at a corner of the said Miles I’Anson’s land on the west side of the Road leading from Newark to the Belleville Paint Works; thence south along said road, etc., the lot containing about 14 acres and bounded south, west and north by land owned by Miles I’Anson.

December 14, 1853, Miles I’Anson sold to Robert Smith about an acre and a half, apparently to straighten the latter’s line.

Not so very many years ago, those who journeyed back and forth to Belleville by way of the old “Back road” passed the Phillips farm.

At the south end of the estate stood a quaint little dwelling, bearing unmistakable marks of antiquity upon its weather beaten boards and crumbling shingle roof. This house had been the dwelling place of several generations of the name.

Colonel Phillips, the founder of the family in America, was an officer in the English army under Oliver Cromwell, and on the accession of Charles II. to the throne of England, in 1660, he with others was obliged to fly to America. He first settled in Killingworth (now Clinton), Connecticut, and subsequently removed to New Jersey, purchasing nine hundred acres of land near Caldwell. One of his grandsons, David Phillips, settled in Newark and married Sarah Morris, grandaughter of a Doctor Morris, who was also an officer under Cromwell, and who fled to America with Colonel Phillips.

David Phillips had this property from Morris Phillips, and he from Samuel Morris. David Phillips began his housekeeping in the little house which stands on the Lincoln avenue property, “purchasing 16 acres of land for which his family received a deed from the proprietors of East Jersey in 1696”, and here Morris Phillips, the father of John Morris Phillips, was born and here he died. This Morris Phillips was one of the proprietors of the quarries at Belleville which furnished the stone used in building Fort Lafayette, Castle William on Governor’s Island, old St. John’s Church in New York, which has recently been closed by the Trinity corporation, and the old State House in Albany.

The farm house still stands on the property, though it has been moved back to Summer avenue in the rear of the house erected some years ago by Mr. John M. Phillips near the original homestead site. The old farm had gradually acquired that human interest which only comes of long tillage and close association with man, its fine orchard of ancient apple trees, the wood lot on the eastern slope of the hill which lapped over into the Mount Prospect avenue region, and which held for the man so many boy memories of dog and gun, and the fertile flat lands which stretched north along the old road. All these combined to entice the man back to his boyhood’s home, and it is small wonder that Mr. John M. Phillips, who had a keen sense of the beauties and wonders of nature, acquired the place for his own at the first opportunity. Here was an ancient well of delicious water, which tradition tells us was known to and used by the Indians. Up to very recent times this stood with its long well-sweep picturesquely adorning the landscape.

In the winter of 1779 General Anthony Wayne marched his troops up the Back road to the fields between the present Elwood avenue and Second river, where he went into camp. Mr. Frank Crane tells me that when a boy it was a common thing to find along this hillside, all the way to Second river, hollows in the earth which are supposed to have been dug by the soldiers for shelter.

Just about the time the troops reached the Phillips farm, Mrs. Sarah, wife of David, mentioned above, had finished a baking of bread; this she took out and gave to the hungry soldiers with pretty much everything else in the house that was eatable. It has been handed down in the Phillips family, as elsewhere, that the soldiers when they halted stood with their feet in their caps to protect them from the snow—those poor naked feet which had been cut and torn by the sharp crust of the snow until they marked the white highway with a trail of blood. The old grandmother many times told the tale to the family gathered about the warm hearth of the old farm house on wintry nights, and the boy John never forgot it.

A rather interesting tangle over the northern end of the Phillips tract has taken much patience to unravel. This concerned a small slice of land now largely occupied by Phillips Park and Elwood avenue.

About 1825 Benajah Perou purchased a certain parcel of land from John Morris Keen, of which the above was part. Perou was a seafaring man and, in the spring of 1828, sailed for New Orleans, and nothing was afterward heard from him. Being unmarried his heirs were his six brothers and sisters, and in 1845 this property was divided amongst them, each receiving a long narrow strip, 66 feet wide, fronting on the “road from Newark to Belleville Paint Works”, and running back into the sunset.

Daniel Perou received as his share the northernmost strip, known as lot No. 6. He was living back in the country and, in 1849, died intestate and unmarried; thus his 66 foot strip fell to the five remaining brothers and sisters, or their heirs, none of whom appear to have paid any attention to the property. In the meantime said brothers and sisters had been getting married and having children, and these children had insisted on growing up and doing likewise, until generations arose who knew not that they were interested in the property.

Naomi Perou, one of the sisters of Benajah, married Morris Phillips, and in due time became the mother of John M. Phillips, who was one of the last of the line to be born in the old farm house. And as time went on and John M. prospered he began to buy up the interests of others in the adjoining property until he owned all of the Perou tract, or thought he did. But by the time an attempt was made to definitely fix the title to lot No. 6 there were found to be more than three hundred shares into which this lot must be divided, each one amounting to something less than three inches in width, and extending from Lincoln avenue to Mount Prospect.

The hunt necessitated to clear this title led all over the country. One heir was traced as far as New Orleans, and lost; another vanished in the Civil War; another moved to Mystic, Conn., and could not be traced to his final end, and so it went. One was found in Kansas and another in Western New York.

It cost more to perfect the title than the land was worth, and when it was perfected the lot—or all that was left of it—was given to the city for a park, a memorial to the late John Morris Phillips.

It is family tradition among most of those whose ancestors resided here during the Revolution that Gen. Anthony Wayne camped along the old Back road, but so far as can be ascertained the books are silent on the subject. The New York Historical Society can find nothing in its archives, and if the New Jersey Historical Society has anything bearing on this point it does not know it.

The only mention of the event that I have been able to find is an unsigned article which appeared in the Daily Advertiser of December 12, 1884, which is quoted here entire, as it contains much of interest. The Advertiser says:—

“The attention of an Advertiser reporter was recently called to a tradition that Gen. Anthony Wayne with 2,600 men was camped for a considerable time during the severe winter of 1779 in the vicinity of what is now Elwood avenue, and the old Belleville road in this city. It was rather doubted whether this could be possible, and all accounts of it lost. Such an event would certainly have left an impression which could not be entirely obliterated even in a hundred years. From information obtained, however, from the late John M. Phillips, whose grandfather was a revolutionary soldier; William A. Wauters, whose grandmother owned the woods in which it is alleged Wayne camped, together with a personal inspection of the ground made by Mr. Daniel F. Tompkins, of Woodside, his son and the writer, the following facts were ascertained:—

“General Wayne, with a detachment of the American Army, after the evacuation of New York, regained for a portion of the winter encamped in the Coeyman woods, in what is now Woodside. His encampment extended from a point a little west of and in line with the old Belleville road and north of Elwood avenue, along the ridge up to Second river. Traces of this encampment are found in the excavations which the soldiers made for their huts. The excavations are found also along the line of the Montclair & Greenwood Lake Railroad at the south side of the bridge across the Second river. They are found also on the side of the hill west of Mount Prospect avenue, and south of the line of Elliott street, and extending north several hundred yards, the most marked being at the northern limit. In one of these excavations the stones which marked the temporary fireplace still remain. The troops cut down the growing timber from these woods, and the owner, Minard Coeyman, was paid for it by the government. About half a mile northwest of this ridge the old barn, in which were slaughtered the cattle for the use of the army, still stands. It belongs to the Crane family. Mr. Nathaniel Crane, who was born in 1808, well remembers hearing his father and uncle talk about the encampment. Wayne had several field pieces with him, and the men used to take the horses down to Second river to water at a point 100 yards from the railroad bridge, and near the ruins of the old copper works, opposite Woodside Park. In February Wayne moved his army to Morristown. The close proximity of the British is given as the cause of Wayne breaking camp. In his position at Woodside he was liable to be flanked. Jasper King, father of the late William King, of East Orange, was a boy at the time Wayne was at Woodside, and his father was a soldier in Wayne’s army. Jasper went with his grandfather and his mother to say good-by to his father at the encampment in Coeyman’s woods.

“Jasper King related to the late John M. Phillips that when the roll was called the soldiers came out from their tents and some of them threw their caps on the snow and stood on them with their bare feet. He said it began to snow as the troops started on their march to Morristown and some of the soldiers left marks of blood on the snow as they marched. Their way was along the old Bloomfield road, which may have been reached by crossing the fields past the old Crane Mansion, or by the way of Keen’s lane, the outlines of which can still be traced southwest to the Bloomfield road. From Bloomfield the march was through Caldwell, where the snow became so deep that the artillery was left behind and remained imbedded in the drifts on a by-road near where the penitentiary now stands, until spring. At Bloomfield a picket was posted to guard the rear. One of the men climbed onto the fence to see if the British were pursuing. In the act his gun was discharged, killing him instantly.

“The story of Jasper King is corroborated by the known fact that on February 3, 1779, a snow storm set in, which lasted three days, and the snow was said to be eight feet deep on the Bloomfield road. The inference that Wayne’s encampment at Woodside was in the winter of 1779 is made more probable from the fact that in his attack on Stony Point in July, 1779, he had no artillery. That Wayne was on the coast and near New York in the winter of 1779, is made exceedingly probable also by the following letter from Lord Stirling, which if he had been at Morristown with Washington would have been directed to the Commander-in-Chief:—

“‘Ramapogh, Jan. 5, 1779.—Dear Sir: From every intelligence I have received I am induced to believe that Count D’Estaing is on this coast; in consequence of it I need not explain matters to you. Notwithstanding my situation of body, I will be at Paramis to-morrow and should be glad to see you there as soon as possible, to concert every necessary measure that may occur to us both.

“That Wayne had artillery is evident from the fact that Mr. Tompkins found a grape-shot on the ground of the encampment. He also found a sword, which, evidently, had been worn by a noncommissioned officer.”

“During the winter of 1780-81 the British were at Belleville and may have used the same encampment previously occupied by the Americans. It is known that they occupied ground near where the new steel works of Dodge, Blake & Lyon now are. During this time a party of British stopped for the night on Keen’s lane, mentioned before on what is now Mr. Henry J. Winser’s lot, on Washington avenue, opposite Carteret street. Another party coming from Newark along the Passaic, stumbled on the pickets of the first party and immediately began firing. There was quite a skirmish in the darkness before the true state of affairs was learned.”

“The old house in which the grandfather of the late John M. Phillips lived stood flush with the old Belleville road at the time of which we write, and was visited frequently by the American officers. It now stands in the rear of the new house on Lincoln avenue, and is well preserved. A middle-aged Irish woman came to the door at the knock of Mr. Tompkins the other day and seemed inclined to deny an inspection of the premises; but when it was made known to her that the visit was to see the house where the men who whipped the British a hundred years ago had lodged, she accorded a right royal welcome. A mere glance was sufficient to prove that the house was not of modern date. There is no plastering, and the joists that support the upper floors are thick and strong and as substantial as when put in, more than a hundred years ago.”

“While the British were encamped on this side of Second river, near the steel works, the grandfather of Mr. Tompkins, who was a scout in the American Army and noted as an athlete, was reconnoitering, with four companions, on the old Belleville road. They accidentally came upon a picket post in the dusk, the officer of which rode up and cried out: ‘Who you be for?’ Tompkins, to gain time, asked the same question, ‘Who you be for?’ ‘For King George’, said the English officer. ‘We be for the Continental Congress’, shouted Tompkins as he sprang into the woods. There was a fence that stood in the way, and as Tompkins vaulted over it the entire picket guard fired. Two of Tompkins’s companions who, instead of jumping the fence had climbed over it, were killed, but the former escaped by the balls passing under him as he jumped. One of the scouts who was killed on that occasion lies buried in the old Bloomfield grave yard. The enemy probably not knowing that they had killed any one, left the bodies where they fell.”

The march of improvement, in the opening of Woodside avenue, has recently caused the destruction of the “Magazine house”, a low stone building which stood back of the present Summerfield M. E. Church. This dated back to about 1812, when it was built for the storing of powder made at the Decatur Powder Works, which were located on the site of the present De Witt Wire Works, Belleville. There was a spirit of mystery and adventure about the place that somehow tickled my boyish fancy greatly, and I always passed it with a sense of adventure, but the above is all that can be said of the spot. When Jacob Rutan was building the calico print works on Second river he lived here and his wife, Elizabeth, a member of the King family, formerly of the River road, boarded the men who were doing the mason work. How they all slept in this small building is a mystery.

Just below the powder house; in fact, opposite the point where Elwood place runs into Summer avenue, the John Morris Keen lane led away to the Bloomfield road. This, it appears, was part of a lane from the River road, the easterly section of which was known as the Stimis lane. Whether the latter was opened for the purpose or, being established, was merely used because convenient, has not been made plain, but I am told that formerly a paper mill stood on the Bloomfield road, and that the paper was made from reeds gathered on the Hackensack meadows, brought up the Passaic river, landed possibly at the Point House landing and carted from there via the two lanes to the mill.

The Back road, in the Elliott street neighborhood, seventy-five or more years ago, entered a deep gully surrounded on all sides by dense woods. It is possible that this gave the early name of “Drift” road to the highway, as it was a place into which snow could easily drift and cause trouble to travelers. This was a noted spot for highway robberies, many such having occurred here, and the place was long dreaded by those who were compelled to pass this way.

The only actual hold-up of which I have heard is said to have occurred in 1856, when four men who came out of the woods from the direction of the Magazine house attempted to rob a passing farmer. What success they had I do not know, but it appears that they were recognized and later arrested. One of these, at least, was a Woodside man, but the names of the others have been forgotten.

Tom Coeyman built about sixty years ago at the upper edge of this gully. His house stood near the junction of Summer and Grafton avenues, and this seems to have relieved the gloom of the place, for so far as known there were no robberies after the one mentioned above.

Probably before our time the Back road was the dwelling place of “Owney” Carroll and his good wife Peggy. Both were convivial souls, and each a character in his or her way, but our most vivid memories cling about the old lady. One old resident recalls that in his youth the couple lived where now stands the Elliott street school, and that one time when he was passing with a load of wood Peggy was discovered in a somewhat awkward predicament.

It seems that one or the other—or possibly both—had been looking on the wine when it was red, as was their custom, and that the husband had concluded that his better half would be improved by a bit of fresh air and, having thrust her forth, locked the door. Now Peggy does not appear to have taken this in good part and, finding an open window, she proceeded to crawl within; but, when about half-sill over, the sash came down on her back and pinned her fast—just as our informant was coming down the road with a load of wood.

In the course of years Mrs. Carroll became a sort of attache of our back door, and I have a general recollection that the old lady’s methods did not always meet with the entire approval of my mother. She certainly thoroughly disagreed with one of Peggy’s capers. My mother was a great lover of plants, and among her treasures was a lemon tree which actually bore lemons; these Mrs. Carroll discovered one day while cruising about the back yard and, carefully gathering the treasured crop, she brought the fruit to the back door and tried to sell it to my maternal ancestor. Mrs. Carroll did not call at the house again for some time.

Those who sought knowledge at that fount known as the Elliott street school, when it was but a country schoolhouse, delight to recall how they were allowed to roam the woods that then bordered the old road on the west, for the first flowers of spring, and how the schoolmaster would ring the bell from the schoolhouse door summoning a return to study, and the children would come scampering back with hands full of bloom—windflowers and hepaticas mostly, whose blue and white are so emblematic of the springtime heavens. To those who can hark back so far that patch of woods is remembered as a wonderfully attractive spot.

Jesse C. Bennett came to this country from Stockport, England, in 1833, to superintend the calico print works, which lined the south side of Second river from the Back road to the De Witt mill pond, and he built a house at what is now the southwest corner of Summer and Verona avenues.

Mr. Bennett was an Episcopalian, and as dancing was one of the accomplishments of the day and not barred by that creed, he engaged a master of the art who once in so often gave the small Bennetts (there were twelve of them) lessons in an addition at the rear of the dwelling which provided a suitable room. As time wore on Mr. Bennett became a Second Adventist and turned this rear room from a dancing hall to a place for prayer. One of the fervent brothers of these times was Mr. Harry Harvey, who was given to long prayers; in fact he thought nothing of praying for an hour at a stretch. For these exercises the children were brought in and ranged under the long mantelpiece on one side of the room, but an hour was a long time to be good in those days, and generally one or two or three would steal awhile away without being noticed. This gradually emboldened the others, and one time while the heads of the elders were bowed in devotion the entire youthful congregation managed to get out unnoticed, and there was considerable commotion when the fact was discovered and, as I understand it, the commotion was not entirely confined to the elders.

Later Mr. Bennett became a Methodist and joined the church of that denomination in Belleville.

Mr. Bennett once had a man working about the place who was fresh from the Emerald Isle and he, venturing out one evening shortly after his arrival, came running back a badly scared Irishman, and announced that the woods were full of fairies, for he had seen their lanterns. It proved to be his first acquaintance with fireflies.

The calico print works which lined the south bank of the Second river from the Back road to the De Witt mill pond developed into a large industry under Messrs. George and Jonathan Bird. This part of the river bank has been a mill site for more than one hundred years.

The first on record was the grist mill of Captain Bennett. His mill was a small affair which stood on the bank where the Back road crossed. Next came a Captain Stout, who rebuilt the mill. Both of these lived in the dwelling later known as the “Bird” house.

About 1824 the Stout mill and lands were sold to the Eagle Printing Company, which erected a large factory for the printing of calicoes along the south bank of Second river, extending from the Back road to the De Witt mill pond. The concern employed several hundred hands and conducted a business of great magnitude for those times, but it finally fell on evil days and failed about 1855.

At this time the Back road was so narrow that wagons could hardly pass; indeed, so much of a country lane was it that even as late as 1850 the passing of a load of calicoes from the mill was an event to call the few inhabitants to the windows to see the sight.

After this Andrew Gray and one Wright successfully conducted the business for some time, and finally George and Jonathan Bird became the proprietors. Jonathan Bird lived in the stone house that has since been known as the “Bird” house, and here dispensed a hospitality that was famed for many a mile around. In due course George Bird died, and later Jonathan sold to a stock company, of which John Eastwood was a member. This company put in some expensive machinery but, owing to internal strife, the business was abandoned after a brief existence.

After remaining idle for some time the hat manufacturing concern of Moore & Seeley purchased the buildings, but before they did much the factory burned, and was never rebuilt. The story given out to account for the fire was to the effect that it was due to Chinese cheap labor. According to this version the hatters introduced Chinamen and the Irish element, which predominated at the time, objected, and the fire gave point to their objections, but there are some still living who account for the fire in a wholly different way.

There was a time when the Back road bridge across Second river was haunted by a headless ghost—at least I am so informed—but it seems that when off duty the ghost was known as old Sam Adams’s daughter, Mary Ann.

When I was a boy the ruins of the old grist mill still stood close to the southeast corner of this bridge. It was then known as Benson’s mill, a man of that name having been the last miller. Some time some one was either murdered and thrown into the mill race here, or else was accidentally drowned. In either case the situation furnished the proper material for a mystery, and it would appear that there was talk of an apparition having been seen on the bridge shortly after the occurrence.

This was taken advantage of by Mary Ann Adams to frighten the boys, and as a result few people cared to cross the bridge after dark, as too many had actually seen the ghost to leave any doubt of its existence. This, of course, was long ago, when Mary Ann was young. She died some six years ago, an old woman.

There is a legend that Washington once rested at the grist mill, and that here his troopers purchased feed for their horses. This was probably during the retreat from Fort Lee.

Somewhat south of the mill stood the miller’s house; in fact the building is still standing on its old foundations, at the southeast corner of Summer and Sylvan avenues. Here was born Col. Henry Benson, whose accidental death at Malvern Hill during the Civil War furnished Belleville with its first military funeral.

The old Bloomfield or Long Hill road is frequently spoken of by the older inhabitants as a former Indian trail “from the mountain to the river”. This may have been one of the many paths which intersected the great Minisink trail extending from the Shrewsbury river to Minisink Island, in the Delaware river below Port Jervis, where the council fires of the Leni Lenape constantly burned. This particular branch probably passed through Great Notch on the First mountain, meeting the main path near Little Falls.

The white man’s road began where what is now Second avenue joins Belleville avenue, and labored up the grade to the present Prospect place, where it turned toward the north for Bloomfield. The old road is less prolific in story and incident than any other part of this region. Those interviewed have invariably wished that I might be able to talk with some one now gone who was full of ancient lore, but as dead men tell no tales I have found myself at a disadvantage.

Not only have the inhabitants gone, but the old road itself is largely a memory, for those who are now exploiting this region have almost obliterated the former highway, finding that its meandering course interfered with their straight lines, and not having in mind the attraction that a bend in the road, the curving line of beauty, with its mystery of a fair, unknown country beyond, has for the stroller.

Along this road during the early days of the last century passed the eccentric preacher Lorenzo Dow, on his way to the little Methodist church beyond Sunfish pond. Dow was an occasional visitor in the vicinity and left a memory of peculiar sayings and doings that flavored the local gossip for the better part of a hundred years. It is said that a toll-gate once stood near the canal bridge, which was kept by Archibald Jacobus, and those who were boys when I went skating on Sunfish pond will recall the ruins of an ancient grist mill whose wheel was turned by the waters of the pond. Concerning this Mr. Walter S. Nichols remembers when a boy making regular journeys to this mill with a grist of corn for the grinding—this was in the fifties, after the Searing mill on the canal had been abandoned.

Until the toll-gates were removed, some twenty-five or more years ago, from the Turnpike or “New” road, as the present Bloomfield avenue was called, the old road was the avenue for pleasure driving and also for much heavy traffic between Newark and Bloomfield. This made the highway of prime importance and may help to explain the inflated values set on land in this region before the panic of ’73.

The Adrian Scharff house, which stood just within the Woodside line, was erected some time before 1850. It seems that Mr. Scharff brought his old world ideas with him to this country and thought he must either have a river frontage for his home or a view. He had almost decided on the site now occupied by the Mount Pleasant Cemetery, but finding that that was not available, contented himself with the next best spot near the hilltop.

Beyond the Scharff house the road ran through dense woods for a short half mile to the Robert Smith property—known as “White-house” Smith to distinguish him from “Brick-house” Smith further north. The records show that this property was sold by Thomas Saffin to Thomas Havens, and by him to Ebenezer Smith. When this house was built is not known, but probably it was erected by Ebenezer Smith, father of Robert.

Ebenezer Smith, born February 24, 1791, who was one of a large family, was the son of Scotch parents who immigrated to this country before his birth. Ebenezer had two sons, Robert and Ebenezer, Jr., and one daughter. Robert fell heir to the “White-house” Smith property. Ebenezer, Jr., married a daughter of Matthias Baker, and thus came into the property on which his son, Matthias Smith, erected the home of the “Brick-house” Smiths. Ebenezer, Jr., had two sons, Robert (2) and Matthias. Robert (1) lived in New York and used this as a summer home; he died in 1858. Robert Smith was a lover of fast horses and was in the habit of driving from Jersey City to his home. He had one horse, of which he was particularly proud, that would cover the distance in an hour.

In those days the Hackensack meadows were covered with a dense cedar growth which was a hiding place for those whose deeds were evil, and the road was the scene of many hold-ups. On one occasion Mr. Smith, while driving home, overtook a woman who asked for a ride, and he took her in his trap, only to discover that the supposed woman wore heavy boots; he then concluded that they would later meet with others who would assist in relieving him of the necessity of carrying his money home. Having made up his mind to rid himself of the passenger, he dropped his whip and requested her to get it, as he could not leave his restive horse; and, of course, once she was out, he did not wait for whip or passenger.

The children of Robert Smith all of whom are now dead, were Charles H., Eugene B., Robert A., Sarah and Agnes W.

This property was purchased by Peter H. and John H. Ballantine just before the panic of 1873 (the deed is dated January 31, 1873) when prices were greatly inflated, and they paid therefor the sum of $217,000, paying $50,000 down and giving a mortgage and bond for the remainder. It was not long before the new purchasers saw the error of their ways and desired to relinquish the property and the $50,000, but to this the Smith estate would not agree. It is hardly probable that they will ever see a profit on the investment, as interest at 5 per cent (and it was more than five in those days) would in itself now amount to almost twice the original outlay, and when the taxes and assessments to which the property has fallen heir are added to the loss of interest, even eighty dollars a foot can hardly seem a large sum to the Ballantine estate.

Passing the Robert Smith place we come to the home of the Bartholfs, which was erected more than sixty years ago, as it is so designated on the map of ’49. Who Mr. Bartholf was or where he came from I have not ascertained. The records show that John G. Bartholf purchased the property from Samuel Morris, who had it from Zebulon Morris, to whom it came from John Morris. This was probably that John Morris who was a resident of the old Bloomfield road during the Revolution.

Mr. John Morris Phillips, in the Daily Advertiser of February 19, 1880, stated that John Morris was his great-grandfather, and that it was to his house that the son of Joseph Hedden came when he fled from the British (referred to elsewhere), having nothing on but his night clothes and a pair of stockings. His feet were frozen to the bone as a result of the exposure.

Some time in the sixties Mr. Albert Beach acquired this property which he at first used only as a summer home. The house was taken down in November, 1909.

The Keen homestead adjoined the Beach property on the north. Just when the farm house was erected is not known, but that it is pre-Revolutionary there is no question.

In 1765 Thomas Keen, a native of England, and Miss Clorinda Lake, of Holland, were married on Long Island, and subsequently settled at Belleville, Essex County, New Jersey.

Their son, Joseph Lake Keen, was married to Abigail Morris in 1790.

Their son, John Morris Keen, was married to Peninah Sanford in 1820.

Their son, Zebulon Morris Keen, was married to Hanna Maria Garrabrant in 1863.

Their surviving son, John Morris Keen, was married in 1908 to Helen Virginia Brainard.

The grandfather of the present John M. Keen was born in 1797, and Peninah Sanford was born in Kearney (New Barbadoes) in 1792. She was a descendant of Capt. William Sanford, mentioned elsewhere.

The Keen homestead still remains, the house being substantially unchanged, but the barns, cribs and smoke house have long since been removed. Pear trees standing in the yard over twenty years ago were said by Mrs. Peninah Keen to be over two hundred years old. This same grandmother, who began life in 1792, has stated that Washington, in one of his journeys to and fro, came up the old Keen lane and stopped at the farm house for a glass of water. This lane has been in use for at least one hundred and fifty years, as seventy-five years ago trees lined its borders which were then not less than seventy-five years old.

Almost opposite the Keen home lived the “Brick-house” Smiths. This building was erected fifty-three or fifty-four years ago by Matthias Smith on the site where formerly dwelt his maternal grandfather, Matthias Baker. The latter had the property from Isaac Soverhill.

The Sidman family dates back to the time of William the Conqueror, when the first ancestor of whom there is any record is said to have come to England from Normandy. He appears to have been a favorite of the great William and received from him a considerable grant of land on the river Syd and from this the family derived its name—Sydenham, which was later shortened to Sidman.

The introduction of the Sidman family to this neighborhood began with a romance, when John Sydenham ran away with Susannah Handcock, in 1711. It seems that Edward Handcock, “yoeman” (or Handcook, as one document gives the name) was living on this property in the year above mentioned, and that John Sydenham, who happened along from no one knows just where, fell desperately in love with Susannah, an only daughter, but the stern father frowned on the young man’s suit and Susannah was locked in an upper room.

However, John brought around a ladder one night, and the two adjourned to the parson. That they were promptly forgiven is evidenced by the following extract from a deed, made in 1711 by Edward Handcock, in which he says: “for and in consideration of the love, good will and affection which I have and do bear unto my loving son-in-law, John Sydenham, etc., and my only daughter, Susannah, his wife”. He then deeds to his son-in-law four acres of his land situated on the “highway to Acquacanong”, and six acres on the “highway to Watersson”, which latter adjoined land owned by Jasper Crane and by John Godon.

The following genealogy of the family is furnished by Miss Laura M. Sydenham of Plainfield, and is taken largely from the family Bible:—

John Sydenham (1) married Susannah Handcock, 1711. They had issue: John (2), born March 16, 1714; died in 1754. Samuel, who died intestate and unmarried in 1759. There is some doubt about this Samuel, there being but slight mention of him in the records, but it is presumed that he was the son of John Sydenham (1).

John Sydenham (2) married Martha Longworth, December 8, 1741. They had issue:—

Dorcas, born November 30, 1742.

David, born October 11, 1744.

William (1), born July 8, 1746.

John (3), born May 10, 1748. He removed to parts unknown on the upper Hudson river, and nothing further has been learned concerning him.

Susannah, born February 15, 1750.

William (2), born November 15, 1751.

Thomas, born November 4, 1753; died August 12, 1816.

Thomas Sydenham married Sarah Fordham, in October, 1779. They had issue:—

Susannah, born 1780; died 1852.

Martha, born 1783.

John (4), born 1785; died 1859.

Mary, born 1788.

Sarah, born 1791; died 1831.

David, born 1795; died 1822.

Bethiah, born 1798; died 1844.

John Sydenham (4) married Amelia, daughter of Matthias Baker, August, 1817. They had issue: Mary E., Martha A., Albert T., Sarah E., John E., Matilda L., Harriet and Julia.

John Sydenham (2) married Martha Longworth, as stated above; she was born August 23, 1724, and died May 12, 1804. Her sister Mary (born April 22, 1737, died September, 1793) married a Mr. Eckley. The sisters both resided in the Sidman house now standing. One Isaac Longworth, who owned a store in New York in 1759, and was the owner of a sloop which traded up the Passaic river, is believed to be the father of Mary and Martha, and also of a son Nicholas, who removed west to Cincinnati, and became the progenitor of that branch of the family.

The house now standing is not the Hancock house of 1711, though it is known to be more than one hundred and fifty years old. The Dutch oven, where bread and pies were formerly baked, is still a part of the structure, and the long-handled, wooden shovel, used to remove those edibles when baked, is still a part of its furnishings.

The present spelling of the name Sidman has been in occasional use for at least one hundred and fifty years, as the name is so spelled in the grave-digger’s bill for John (2), who died in 1754. In the paper detailing the settlement of the estate of John (2) the name is spelled Sidnham. In an inventory of his goods is mentioned “Hagar, a negro girl”, who was valued at £40. In a document dated in 1816 the name is spelled Sidingham. The present spelling came into general use with David, son of Thomas, who refused to sign his name other than Sidman.

Miss Laura M. Sydenham tells me that when she was a child a certain hollow on the crown of the ridge which had the appearance of having been surrounded by a heavy stone wall, and which was situated in the fields, she thinks, somewhere between the house of Mr. Elias G. Heller and the Presbyterian church, was pointed out by the elders as the site of a fort erected for protection against the Indians, but nothing more definite than this is known.

Miss Sydenham also remembers having been told that a Tory, whose house was burned because of his unpatriotic tendencies, resided between the present Sidman house and Murphy’s lane.

The woods on the Sidman place were used to some extent as a camping ground by certain Indians. Miss J. A. Sidman recalls having heard her grandmother tell of an invitation extended to her by these Indians to dine with them and, as she preferred not to offend the red-skinned neighbors, the invitation was accepted; but this proved to be one of the times when a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, for she arrived in time to see the dinner preparing and the careless and uncleanly methods of her hosts so nauseated her that she invented some excuse and came away.

Another of the early memories is Mollie, an old Indian basket maker, who frequented the neighborhood, securing her material from the Sidman woods. She frequently slept on the floor of the kitchen, always in a sitting posture. One day other Indians came this way and the wild instinct returned to the old basket maker who, after an excited conversation with her new-found friends, departed with them never to be seen again in the neighborhood.

The upper end of Branch Brook park, which was formerly a part of the Sidman domain, was known as “Blue Jay” woods.

Some years before his death Mr. Daniel F. Tompkins called at the Sidman house and made the statement that he had found in New York a document which contained information to the effect that Washington contemplated establishing his winter camp at “Sidman’s (Sydenham’s) Clove”, but owing to its proximity to the British lines the idea was abandoned and instead he fixed the camp at Morristown. Mr. Tompkins believed that this referred to this Sidman property which then covered a considerable tract, but no member of the family had ever heard any part of the estate called the clove, and nothing further was developed. A brief search among the records of the New York Historical Society fails to reveal the source of Mr. Tompkins’s information.

On the corner of the old road and Murphy’s lane stands another Keen homestead. The original house, which has been added to until it has lost much of its identity, was part of the Crane estate and came into the Keen family through the marriage of Alfred Keen with a sister of Nathaniel J. Crane. The older part of the house was probably built a hundred years ago. The front part was erected by Alfred Keen about fifty years ago.

The old Moses Farrand home formerly joined the Keen property, extending to the canal. The building was torn down some years ago. It was a fine old place in its day, having been erected, it is said, near the close of the eighteenth century. The rooms were spacious for those days, while a great central hall extended from front to rear. The walls were thick and massive, the brown stone of which they were constructed is supposed to have been taken from the quarry at Soho.

Dr. Edward D. Griffin pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Newark from 1801 to 1809, was in the habit of riding out to this house to conduct religious services for those living in the neighborhood.

The family record in the old Farrand Bible, now in possession of Miss Anna B. Farrand, begins with Moses, who was born in October, 1728, and died September 19, 1805; following him comes Samuel, born July 25, 1759, died December 26, 1826; he married Sarah Andruss, who was born December 30, 1769, and died in June, 1874; Joseph, born January 10, 1792; Moses Andruss (2d), born October 11, 1793, died January 26, 1862; Rachael, born August 13, 1795, died August 19, 1816; Sarah Ann, born August 4, 1797; Charles, born July 29, 1799, died in June, 1874; Joseph, born December 20, 1801, died August 19, 1830; Phœbe, born November 23, 1802; Samuel Edward, born June 2, 1803; John Herman, born June 2, 1805, and Samuel Edward (2d), born May 19, 1807.

The oldest Farrand home in this region was situated on our old road, but across the line in Bloomfield. Here Washington is said to have been a guest. This property fell to Charles, father of Miss Anna B., who has given me most of the family history.

The Farrands, name originally spelled Ferrant, were Huguenots, and presumably were part of the emigrants who left France owing to the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, following which several hundred thousand Frenchmen were compelled to seek refuge in other lands. A considerable colony of these settled in the neighborhood of New York during the early part of the eighteenth century.

There is nothing further of interest concerning the old Bloomfield road; the short stretch beyond the canal which lies within the confines of Woodside offers no discoverable history or legend that may be used for this sketch.

The Lower Road From Belleville to Bloomfield.

One who knew Murphy’s lane in years gone by would naturally begin with Charlie Van Riper’s flower garden. When we were young, Charlie Van Riper lived in a frame house, the northern windows of which overlooked Second river. The foreground of his view was a neglected expanse through which meandered Murphy’s lane, and also a second cart track which, as I recall it, merely shortened the distance a few feet for those seeking “Murphytown” from the south. This cart track, which is now Sylvan avenue, west of Summer avenue, ran close by the old-fashioned flower garden, which Charlie knew so well how to encourage to do its best, with its marigolds and hollyhocks, and all the old friends set out in little odd-shaped beds bordered with box. Charlie was as generous with his flowers as his flowers were generous to him, and many a child who stopped to gaze through the picket fence into that wonderland of gorgeous color went on his way with a bunch of blossoms given to him by the kind old soul.

That portion of the wild land which was not interfered with by the traffic of Murphy’s lane offered inducements to the youngsters that I am inclined to think they rather preferred to the Van Riper flowers, and these were the hazel bushes which grew in abundance, the ripened fruit of which was a great attraction.

“Bird’s Woods”, where “The slant yellow beam down the wood-aisle doth seem like a lane into Heaven that leads from a dream”, should have had a Sidney Lanier to immortalize its cool and delicious depths. It was the picnic resort of many a Sunday school, but picnics in the early days were simple affairs and did not call for changes that seriously marred the beauty of the forest. The growth was almost wholly pine and hemlock, and the balsam-laden air is refreshing even yet to think of. A few swings and a sheltered platform, where lunch was served, were the only attempts of man to improve on the situation.

Second river with its babbling waters, the ruins of the old paint mill, and the old dam, with its waterfall at the woods’ end, all combined with the forest to lend enchantment and to a child furnished possibilities for entertainment that were inexhaustible. How well I remember the rush of small feet when the Sunday school children reached the entrance to the woods, and how they spread out like a fan through its coverts of mystery, each one intent on finding something new or re-discovering some old friendly spot.

Then the woods were full of sound, and I can still recall the infectious laugh of Mr. Hine, who, as superintendent of the school and chief promoter of jollity, urged the children on to a full enjoyment of the occasion and his call to a stray robin that might at the moment be voicing his approval of the place, “That’s right, old fellow. Go it!” and then he would whistle to the bird in the tree in a way that started him all over again. We will never see the like of “Bird’s Woods” again.

As nearly as can now be recalled the line of houses on Murphy’s lane was in the following order: Joseph Johns (later John Tyner), William T. Wauters (later John Beardsley), John Murphy, Thomas Murphy, James Murphy, Pat Murphy (the chief ingredients of “Murphytown”), Bill “Whitehead” Bennett, N. J. Crane and Alfred Keen (on the corner of the old Bloomfield road).

The Shields Guards was, before the Civil War, one of the institutions of Murphy’s lane. The armory in which the guns and accoutrements, loaned by the state, were stored, was situated some distance back from Charlie Van Riper’s house, near the present Mt. Prospect avenue. There were many Irishmen in the neighborhood and they formed this company as a rival to the Continental Blues, which numbered Belleville’s best among its members.

Among Mr. Hine’s papers is a note to the effect that about 1822 a Sunday school was carried on in Woodside (for how long he could not ascertain) in the house of Mr. Joseph Johns, on Murphy’s lane. This was an old stone house containing two rooms on the ground floor, in one of which, about fifteen feet square, the Sunday school was held. The house stood at the lower end of Murphy’s lane, very near Second river. It was torn down during the winter of 1886. Mr. Hine says:—

“Mr. Johns himself does not appear to have been exactly a saint, but his wife, Peggy, was a woman of exceptionally fine character and a devoted Christian. She died thirty-three years ago (this was written by Mr. Hine in 1887), and those who were children during her later years speak of their visits to her house as among the bright spots in their child life. From the best information I can obtain, it was she who gathered the children of the neighborhood together for Sunday instruction, but I learn also of students from a seminary in Bloomfield who came down there to teach, and who also established a school in Franklin; they called it Pobishon. Whether that was an Indian name of the region or merely a local title, I do not know, but children from Belleville used to go to both schools.

“I have not been able to find out whether this ancient Woodside school was divided in classes or taught in a body by the person conducting it; but the exercises were simple and now and then a tract would be given to a child, who in those early days, set great store by the simple gift. I only know of two persons now living who attended this school of sixty-five or more years ago: they are Mr. Henry Stimis, who lives on the River road in Woodside and his sister Eliza, who are well known to many of us. Mr. William Wauters, who was a cousin of Mrs. Peggy Johns, has for many years, and until recently, been a resident of Woodside, and is the father of two former faithful workers in this school, the Misses Lizzie and Lucy Wauters.”

In view of the fact that the first Sunday school in Newark was held in 1814 (Daily Advertiser, Oct. 27, ’83.) it speaks well for this country region that one was held here only eight years later.

As nearly as I can gather from current remark, Mr. Joseph Johns was a remarkably fine specimen of an awful example for a temperance lecture—certainly that appears to be the impression he left behind among the neighbors. A story still survives which indicates that Mr. Johns was also somewhat original in his method of doing things.

It seems that he once had a sum of money in shape like a parcel of bills of tempting thickness, and Mrs. Johns, believing that it would be rather more safe in her possession than in his, tried to persuade him to give it up, but, failing in this, she firmly insisted that half of the amount belonged to her, and that he should at least divide. To this proposition he agreed and, taking the package to the chopping block, with one whack of an axe he cut it in two and handed one bundle to his wife, saying “there’s your half”.

When he came to and realized the destruction he had wrought, he was at great pains to paste the bills together again, and in this condition they were put into circulation. For some years it was a common thing to find some of “old Johns’s money” among change received at the Belleville stores.

Beyond the Johns house stood the dwelling of William T. Wauters—Wauterse, as his Dutch forefathers spelled it. The house is shown on the map of 1849, but could not have been erected a great while before that date.

It seems that Polly Van Winkle, mentioned in connection with the River road, was an inhabitant of Bloomfield and used Murphy’s lane as one of her routes to and from the water side. She left the same general memory here that she did elsewhere—a little, old woman, bent nearly double with years and the weight of an enormous pack, which was her constant companion.

Not much has been learned of the Murphys, who appear to have been brought over to work in the calico mills, and who settled so thickly about midway of the lane that the spot became known as “Murphytown”.

Some time before the Civil War a small band of gypsies, headed by one James Trail, who had been in the habit of camping in the woods on the south side of the lane, purchased some of the Murphy property for the purpose of establishing a winter home. In those days this was an out of the way spot and quite suitable for the nomads.

During the warm months these gypsies wandered over the country and at one time, while in Tennesee, they came upon a gullible person named Ferris. Him they induced to bury a pot of gold, or at least to allow them to bury it, at an auspicious moment when the moon and stars favored increase, on the theory that if left a certain length of time, long enough to allow them to get well out of the country, it would multiply the dollars to a marvellous extent.

At the proper time Mr. Ferris dug up the pot and found it heavily laden with—lead, and was sorely vexed. So far the plans of the gypsies had worked as they wished, but what they had not counted on was the persistence of their victim, who managed to trail them to their winter lair. He then sought out ’Squire Sandford of Belleville, and offered him a reward if he would capture the thieves and get the money back, which the ’Squire did in short order.

All who knew ’Squire Sandford in his active days know how useless it was to attempt to bluff him, and it is hardly necessary to state that the gypsies promptly came to terms. This resulted in their giving up the property on Murphy’s lane in order to avoid further trouble, and the ’Squire received half of the land in lieu of a money reward.

On the far edge of Murphytown stood the home of Bill “Whitehead” Bennett. There were many Bennetts in the neighborhood, and it was necessary to distinguish one “Bill” from another—this one appears to have been a blond. The records show that the heirs of Joseph Crane sold this property to John P. Durand, and he to Simon Sainsimon, he to Daniel Crane, he to Aaron I. Crane, he to William Bennett, he to Abram S. Hewitt, and he to Dr. Grenville M. Weeks. The following items in regard to the ownership of the property I have from Dr. Weeks.

Early in the fifties Peter Cooper and Abram S. Hewitt bought a tract comprising about 38 acres just beyond “Murphytown”, their intention being to make a homestead of it, but they did not build. In 1860 Dr. Grenville M. Weeks who was then a young man, living in Bloomfield, discovered the place and, liking it both for its beauty and for what he thought would be its future possibilities as the city grew, saw Mr. Cooper and asked if he would sell. The latter said no, as he had purchased intending to make his home here, but that since then he and his son-in-law had been looking at a place near Greenwood Lake, and they might sell a year hence, if they decided on the latter place, as Hewitt thought the city would crowd them out of this spot.

In ’61 the Doctor again called on Mr. Cooper, who said, “Well, are you as hungry after that place as ever?” and when the young man said yes, the owner wanted to know how much he would pay down. The Doctor who was only twenty-one, had a half interest in a small drug store in Bloomfield, which had netted him $500, a very considerable sum to him, and when he said he had $500, Peter Cooper said, “$500! Young man, have you any idea what the relation of $500 is to a $10,000 place?” The Doctor then thought he could raise another $500, and the owner said, “I will make a contract and give you a deed when you can save another $1,000 and give me a mortgage for $8,000.” The Doctor had by this time entered the Navy, and was thus enabled to secure the second thousand and the deal was consummated.

In the course of time John I. Briggs bargained for the property, agreeing to pay $15,000, and paid $100 down to bind the contract, but he never paid interest on the mortgage, and the Doctor was compelled to foreclose.

Next came Jeremiah Counsellor, a conductor on the M. & E. R. R., and a well-known character, and he asked the Doctor for an opportunity to sell the property, stating that he would sell it inside of a month, and that he wanted as his commission half of all he could get over $50,000. This was just before the panic of ’73, when prices were largely inflated and the Doctor was naturally pleased, as, having been attached to the government service most of the time, he had not appreciated the rise in land values. Shortly thereafter the sale was made to Mr. James Yereance, a New York business man, for $57,000, $25,000 being paid down. The interest was paid for some years, but Mr. Yereance was finally unable to meet the payments, and an amicable arrangement was made whereby part of the property was deeded to the father of Mr. Yereance and the remainder was bought in by the Doctor at Sheriff’s sale. The Doctor speaks very highly of the honest manner in which Mr. Yereance treated him all through these transactions.

Dr. Grenville M. Weeks carries with him a useless right arm as a memento of the Civil War. He was surgeon on the Monitor when she sank, and tells such an interesting story—not only of this event, but also of the conception and building of the Monitor, many points of which he says are not commonly known—that a brief outline of his story is embodied here:—

Dr. Theodore Ruggles Timby, who died November 10, 1909, at the age of 91 was, the Doctor believes, the real inventor of the Monitor. In 1843, Dr. Timby gave thought to the immense unprotected stretch of coast which this country presented to an enemy, and recognized how impossible it would be to construct forts that would cover its vast extent. It then occurred to him that if floating forts could be constructed which could be taken to any point threatened, the difficulty would be met. It is said that the old circular fort on Governor’s Island first suggested a revolving turret to him.

By much thinking he gradually evolved the Monitor type, and fifteen years before the Civil War broke out had perfected his plans and submitted them to the various European governments, even sending them to China, but they all scouted his idea, some one of them remarking that every inventor had his soft spot, and evidently that of Dr. Timby was the thought that he could float an iron ship.

Dr. Timby returned home and continued to work over his plans, placing airtight compartments in bow and stern, and in such other ways as he could devise meeting the objections that had been raised.

When the Civil War came the inventor managed to get his plans before Mr. Lincoln, who immediately became interested, and who used frequently to visit his workshop in Washington to discuss them. Finally Mr. Lincoln, who had some knowledge that the Merrimac was being constructed and knew that something must be done to meet the emergency, sent Dr. Timby with his plans to three of the wealthiest and most prominent men in New York, with a request that they submit the plans to the best engineer they could find.

These took the model and plans to John Ericsson, then regarded as the best engineer in the country, and he, after shutting himself up with them for ten days, submitted a report in which he stated his belief in the feasibility of the plan, and that he could construct the vessel in one hundred days. The order was immediately given to go ahead, and at the end of the one hundred days the “Monitor” was floating on the waters of New York harbor, to all appearances a success.

An interesting addition to this story, which belongs here, comes from Mrs. Lucy Cate Abercrombie of Forest Hill, and, while it is not part of the Doctor’s narrative, it helps to complete the history.

When Ericsson announced that the Monitor could be built, he was called to Washington for consultation and, among other questions, was asked where the plates necessary to armor the proposed vessel could be secured. He responded that he did not know, that such plates were only made in Glasgow, and that it was impossible to secure them from there, but that there was a man in Baltimore who had invented machinery for rolling large plates, and perhaps he could do the work.

This was Mr. Horace Abbott, the grandfather of Mrs. Abercrombie, who had perfected a machine for rolling heavy plates, by the invention of the third roll, but he had put his last dollar into the invention and the stagnation of business due to the war was writing ruin for him in very large letters. Mr. Abbott was sent for and a contract was signed, and in forty-eight hours thereafter the first plate had been rolled, and this led to other government work. Thus the Monitor not only saved the fortunes of the Union, but also those of one of its inventive citizens.

Mr. Abbott’s invention revolutionized the methods employed in rolling heavy plates; it has never been materially changed and is in use to-day in every rolling mill in the country.

Word was sent to Lincoln that the Monitor was afloat and he, knowing that the Merrimac was almost ready, ordered it to proceed immediately to Hampton Roads. Ericsson, however, responded that this was impossible, that the vessel was intended only for harbor defense and would not last in a sea, as she was merely an iron deck set on a scow with an overhang at each end of twenty-five feet, and that the force of the waves under this overhang would lift the upper works from the hull. He had not followed Dr. Timby’s plans as to the hull, which would have saved the vessel in the storm off Hatteras referred to below. The only excuse for the twenty-five foot overhang that can be thought of now is that the short hull was sufficient to float the structure and cost less than a longer hull. The President, however, sent peremptory orders that the Monitor should go, and we all know the result.

Some years after the close of the war Dr. Weeks met the engineer of the Merrimac in Dakota, and as the conversation drifted to the days that had been, the engineer told how the Southerners were highly elated at the first success of the Merrimac, and felt that nothing could stop them, and when they came out of the James river on the morning that the Monitor arrived, the captain was annoyed to see what he supposed was a raft lying between him and his intended prey, the Minnesota, and not realizing what it was or that it could offer resistance, ordered full speed ahead, expecting to ram and destroy the obstruction.

“You can imagine our amazement”, said the engineer, “at the shock of the impact, which threw us to the deck; it was like running on a ledge of rock. The iron prow of the Merrimac, which was made for ramming, was bent and useless, and had we not struck a slanting blow the result to the Merrimac would have been serious.

“But what finally overwhelmed us were the enormous balls, eleven inches in diameter, which came thundering at our railroaded sides until they began to make breaches. Finally one of these ripped through us from stem to stern, killing or wounding seven or more, upsetting gun carriages and causing terrible devastation. Then it was that we realized that destruction awaited us unless we could escape.”

One of the mistakes made by Ericsson was the placing of the conning tower, from which the vessel is fought, aft of the turret instead of on its top, as the plans called for. Because of this the officer in charge was compelled to swing the bow forty-five degrees out of her course in order to see ahead. This delayed the fight greatly and also caused Lieut. John L. Worden, who fought the Monitor, to be almost blinded by smoke and burned powder. This fact led to the transferring of Dr. Grenville M. Weeks to the Monitor, as it was necessary to relieve Lieutenant Worden and the Monitor’s surgeon, Dr. Daniel C. Logue, went with him to the Brandywine, while Doctor Weeks, who was surgeon on the Brandywine, was ordered to replace Dr. Logue.

Captain Bankhead succeeded Lieutenant Worden in command of the Monitor and, as the Doctor says, there was a certain poetical justice in the succession of Captain Bankhead to this command. It seems that a board consisting of General Bankhead, the Captain’s father, and Colonel Thornton of the army, and Joe Smith of the navy, had been appointed some years before to determine whether this was a great piece of folly, as the Europeans thought, or whether it was of value, as the inventor believed. Thornton and Smith reported against the invention, while General Bankhead made a minority report in its favor. The Bankheads were Southern men, but loyal when the Civil War came.

The Monitor was ordered to Charleston, S. C., and on December 29, 1862, was taken in tow by the Rhode Island, a powerful side-wheel steamer. A West India hurricane was raging up the Atlantic Coast, and two days after the start that very thing happened to the Monitor that was predicted by Ericsson, the tremendous lift of the seas under the long overhang of twenty-five feet caused the deck to break away gradually from the hull, and soon the cabin was awash and the heavy dining table was crashing into the stateroom doors and cabin sides as the rolling of the clumsy little vessel rushed the water from side to side.

At this point the Doctor went below for something and found an engineer so sick in his stateroom that he did not realize their perilous position, and when the man refused to move the Doctor attempted to force him out, but now a wave swept over the deck and the Doctor, supposing the Monitor was going down, sprang for the companionway and had to fight his way up through a solid wall of water.

Once outside he sought the top of the turret with the Captain; in the meantime rockets had been set off to notify the Rhode Island that her tow was sinking and the latter had cut her loose. By this time the fires were nearly out and the Monitor was so waterlogged that she did not rise to the seas, but dived into them, while her officers and men could with difficulty hang on, shutting eyes and mouth until the flood had swept astern.

The Rhode Island immediately proceeded to lower a boat on its port quarter, but while this was being done one of the most desperate situations of this desperate night occurred. In some way an end of the immense tow rope which had been trailing astern became entangled in one of the paddle wheels and stopped the machinery. Thus she lay helpless for the time being. In the meantime the Monitor, which was still slowly running under her own power, her fires as yet not having been drowned out, was bearing down on the Rhode Island. In the darkness the proximity of the two boats was not discovered until the Monitor was on the point of ramming. Just at this critical moment the paddle wheel was cleared and the Rhode Island began slowly to forge ahead, and consequently the blow was not severe enough to cause serious damage, but it was a heart-rending moment to those on both of the vessels, who felt that they were very close to eternity.

The collision smashed the boat which was being lowered but another quickly took its place and, recognizing how easily it could be stove, this was well guarded with rope fenders.

It was midnight and very dark, the two vessels had drifted apart again, but finally the small boat was discovered close in on their starboard quarter. It did not dare come alongside, however, for fear of being smashed, and the men were compelled to jump.

The Doctor was one of the last to leave the Monitor, and by this time the small boat had drifted so far off that he fell short into the icy water, but those on board caught him by the hair and collar and he was dragged to safety. The Doctor will never forget seeing one of the engineers, who had been the life of the party and who was loved by all, miss the boat by five feet as he jumped, and go down in the darkness never to be seen again.

There were sixteen in the small boat, but it was staunch, and they felt comparatively safe. The waves were tremendous; at one moment the boat was riding the crest of a mountain, the next it was engulfed in the depths. While thus momentarily between two great seas they dimly saw the bow of a second boat from the Rhode Island hanging above them, which the next moment would come down athwartships and grind them to pulp. A shout of warning enabled each helmsman to throw his tiller over and sheer off to some extent, but what saved the situation from becoming a catastrophe to all was the Doctor’s quick wit. He tells the story very modestly himself. Springing up and bracing his feet he grasped the bow of the oncoming boat as firmly as possible and pushed it to one side and this, with the prompt action of the helmsman, just prevented the impending collision, but, as the one boat came down on the other, the Doctor’s arm was gripped between them and he was pulled down to the water, his arm was dragged from its socket and hung attached to his body by a few stretched muscles. The intense pain caused him to faint, and had it not been that the cold water revived him as his head went under he would have been pulled overboard.

When the boat reached the Rhode Island they found a spar extended from which depended ropes up which the sailors scrambled as only a sailor can, and then the Doctor thought of death, and it was not pleasant in spite of the intense pain he was enduring. One sailor lost his grip and fell into the sea, never to be seen again.

What could a man so maimed as the Doctor was do to save himself under such circumstances? Nothing. There seemed no hope for him, and he thought of descending into that watery grave and slowly disintegrating in the ooze at the bottom of the ocean; and the horror of it took hold on him, for he was a young man and wanted to live.

Finally all were out of the boat but the men at bow and stern, the Doctor, and George W. Tichenor, when the latter shouted that they must do something to save the man who had saved them all. A rope was then thrown from the vessel and a bowline passed over the Doctor’s right shoulder and under his left arm, and the poor, maimed body was dragged on board as a bag of potatoes might have been, but he was saved. It was good to feel the wooden deck under foot once more.

The last property on this old road was the Crane estate. The first of the name to settle here was Jasper Crane (born 1680), and he is supposed to have come here about 1730. The family genealogy goes back to an earlier Jasper, born 1600, who is said to have been a son of Gen. Josiah Crane, who was in the service of King James I. of England. Jasper married in England, as his son John was born there in 1635. Jasper came from England about 1639 and was one of the early settlers of New Haven, Connecticut, where he was a magistrate for several years. From there he removed to Branford and from the latter place to Newark in 1665. Here he was a magistrate, was first president of the Town Council and was first on the list of deputies to the General Assembly of New Jersey for six years after the settlement of Newark.

John Crane, born 1635, had a son Jasper, born 1680 (the first to settle here). His son Joseph was born 1722; this Joseph had a son Joseph, born 1767, and his son was Nathaniel Jonas Crane, born 1808.

The old Crane stone house is supposed to have been erected about 1760 by Joseph Crane; this was taken down about 1890. The small wing at the right of the building is believed to have been the older part of the house. Those now living remember that in the attic of this part were several swords of various descriptions which Nathaniel J. Crane has said were used by members of the family who fought in the French and Indian War. The barn which stood in the rear of this house is the one referred to elsewhere as having been used as a slaughter-house when General Anthony Wayne was camped under this ridge.

Beyond the Crane house is the Keen homestead, which is mentioned in connection with the old Bloomfield road.

Note for page 126.—Information concerning the Sidman family which was received after this book was in type and inserted at the last minute, shows that Jasper Crane owned land here as early as 1711. See page 100.