Think it’s cold? Some of us are experiencing record-low temps. Don’t like snow? Many of us do not appreciate two-foot snowstorms.
But… imagine, if you can, George Washington’s troops at Morristown NJ in the “hard winter” of 1779-1780 in conditions far harsher than we’re experiencing. Worse, even, than the terrible winter at Valley Forge a few years earlier. Most of the men were pretty much outside.
Sub-zero temperatures. Twenty snowstorms. “Shelter” was a log cabin shared by a dozen men and barely heated, if they could find something to burn. There was never enough to eat, and the snowstorms and icy roads made it almost impossible to get supplies to the troops.
The troops’ clothing was threadbare, if not in tatters. The lucky soldiers might have shoes; many went barefoot. Many didn’t survive. And yet they soldiered on. They fought for freedom. For their children. For us.
As we await the next storm, let us remember, and give thanks for, those brave soldiers who made American independence possible despite tremendous obstacles.
Today, an unassuming apartment building stands at 579 Lakeside Avenue in Pompton Lakes. From the 1920s through the 1940s, however, this spot was widely known as Kirby’s Pavilion, a popular lakeside gathering place.
Alfred W. Kirby, born in London in 1874, came to America as a boy and grew up in Jersey City. He later married Elizabeth Bush, and in the early 1920s the couple moved to Pompton Lakes with their daughters, Velma and Dorothy.
The Kirby family’s modest home on Grant Avenue sat beside a 1.25-acre lakeside property where they built the pavilion, which included a general store open all year. During the hot summer months, the bathing beach was a welcome retreat — a place to swim, picnic, boat, or just relax by the lake. (I’m told there was a dance hall as well.) “The swimming area was pretty much where the gazebo is today,” recalled Ball, and the launch for canoes and rowboats is the same one we see today. Some would try fishing from nearby Schuyler Bridge.
Howard Ball remembered Pompton Lakes in those days as “a summer resort for folks from the cities who eventually moved here.”
The family sold candy and snacks and made sure visitors enjoyed their time. While many Pompton Lakes residents spent time there, the pavilion also drew busloads of visitors from nearby cities and towns, including Paterson, Passaic, and Newark, making Kirby’s Pavilion a lively local destination.
Hoping to find a photo of the pavilion itself
During the day, canoes and rowboats were available to rent. (Howard recalled “Victorian types who dressed up to row a boat.”) Most stayed nearby, or dared to get close to the dam, but on one occasion two enterprising fellows rowed up the Pompton River to Pleasureland in Oakland (where one nearly drowned).
Kirby also offered moonlight motor boat trips for the romantically inclined.
Like many other lake venues, Kirby’s had its share of trouble. Accidents, drownings, and near-drownings, while rare, were a danger; at one time, a girl dove to the bottom, only to get her foot tangled in a waterlogged root. Her tale ended well when a local boy rescued her, but some others were not as lucky. The Kirbys installed a fence in the water to give small children a place to play in safety.
If you’ve seen photos of beach-goers during this era, you probably noted that swimmers wore more clothing to go into the water than they wore in public. Pompton Lakes enforced a dress code as well; in 1935, some local boys were actually fined for not wearing the upper half of their suits.
Alfred Kirby passed in 1947, two years after his wife. The pavilion property and his other possessions were willed to his daughters. The property eventually ended up with borough resident Harry Feinbloom. His plans to “beautify” the buildings met with considerable resistance, with petition-signing residents citing “what goes on at the place during the summer” and urging him to build houses there instead. The property now houses two large apartment complexes.
Do any of my readers remember Kirby’s? What was it like back in the day? Got photos? Please leave your thoughts in the comments.
Customers waiting for the beach to open in August 1925.They might have actually worn more clothes to swim than they wore on the drive here.
I discovered this gem about eight years ago while browsing through an old newspaper. “The Pocket Telephone” was drawn by a British bloke, W. K. Haselden, in 1919. It’s as amusing as it was prescient.
“The latest modern horror in the way of inventions is supposed to be the pocket telephone. We can imagine the moments this instrument will choose for action!”
The prescient fellow was named William Kerridge Haselden – call him W.K. – the first staff cartoonist for The Daily Mirror, one of Britain’s most popular papers at the time. He started his employ in 1903 and worked there for about 40 years. He became a national figure during the Great War, churning out a series called “Big and Little Willie” that lampooned Kaiser Wilhelm and his son. After the war the Kaiser, in exile in Holland, admitted they had caused him irreparable damage.
Haselden produced hundreds of cartoons for The Daily Mirror, many of which share this same satirical tone and focus on modernity’s absurdities. I’ll post others in this vein when I find them.
This lovely calendar page is from 1915. I had not previously heard of the Imwolde Brothers, nor of the market they ran. What’s their story?
The Old Newspapers don’t reveal a lot. Herman & Henry Imwolde immigrated from Germany in the early 1900s and opened a shop on Main Street which they called “The Majestic Food Market” – a grocery and butcher store.
Inez Farrel probably worked there, too. She must have liked it, and she surely like Henry, because she married him in 1915.
The shop was somewhere on Main Street. Perhaps it’s in this 1912 photo?
This 1914 account of an unfortunate incident involving spooked horses offers a clue.
“The frightened horses ran down Main street toward Maycock’s bridge…” Well. Anyone in town knows which way is “down” Main Street, and that’s toward Bloomingdale. But “Maycock’s bridge” is new to me. It’s obviously the one that led you over the river to Union Square. Was he a landowner? Bridge builder? Anyway, I deduce the shop might have been on lower Main Street.
The calendar page above featured this on the reverse. The Imwoldes were rightly proud of their store. I’m pretty sure that the attractive girl on the postcard was not Mrs. Imwolde.
Business, and life, must have been good to the family. Inez’s father John Farrel was, at one time, the mayor of Butler. He made a living selling paper boxes. The occasion of the Farrels’ 50th anniversary required a family dinner at the Norton Inn (which is another post that I promise to write). As it happened, Henry and Inez celebrated their tenth anniversary at the same time. Dinner was followed by a reception at Henry’s summer cottage on Glenwild Lake. Yes, life was good.
For those who may be inclined toward researching family histories, the Farrels had two daughters besides Inez – Mrs. Joseph I. Simpson and Mrs. Edward Rodda. All lived in Butler. Two young grandchildren were named in the anniversary article: Lavorra Rodda and John Simpson.
I could find no news about Henry’s brother Herman, not in the Old Newspapers and not on the Ancestry website. There is one who lived in Passaic around this time, but old city directories yield few details. We might never know.
I haven’t found much more to this story. At some point Henry would have retired and/or sold the shop, leaving only a few footprints in Butler’s history. Henry died in 1975, and Inez followed in 1983, having lived in Butler all her life.
If you, dear reader, have anything to add to this tale, kindly leave a comment.
Ever wonder how Sherman Avenue, off the Boulevard in Pompton Plains, got its name? It was one of several roads built during the township’s expansion that began in the 1870s thanks to the new railroad. This photo is from about 1915 when the street was fairly new, unpaved, and not yet cluttered with houses.
Sherman Avenue, about 1915
The street was named for a real estate agent, George W. Sherman, who created a subdivision about 1910 on both sides of Sherman and the south side of Hopper Ave. He billed himself as “the largest real estate dealer in North Jersey.”
Portion of the 1915 tax map of Pequannock Township
Then as now, there was plenty to like about Pompton Plains. A closer look at the ad, below, boasts that “The land is all level, high and dry; no malaria; no damp sea air; the healthiest location in North Jersey.” But wait, there was more: “Sunshine and fresh air [and] pure, sparkling water.”
A 1909 ad for Sherman’s building lots in Pompton Plains NJ
Buyers would also enjoy “Gorgeous Mountain Scenery, fine churches, schools, stores, etc.” and it was all “Only five minutes’ walk to the station”.
Anyone have photos of their homes on Sherman, or elsewhere in Pequannock Township, from back in the day? Leave a comment!
Thanks to Jay Wanczyk for contributing to this entry.
I’ve always wondered what the original, long-gone village of Oak Ridge was like before it was covered by the waters of the reservoir. There are hints in vintage letters and postcards, as well as in tales told by the descendants of those who lived there. If there are old photos, I have yet to find them.
This photo offers a glimpse of the original Oak Ridge village. Taken in 1965, it’s an aerial view of the reservoir, showing long-drowned roadways. If you think 2024’s drought is bad, this was worse. The 1960s drought, which occurred from late 1962 to 1966, was deemed the most severe drought in the northeast United States over the last century [cite].
The Oak Ridge Reservoir in 1965. Click for full-sized photo.
In this photo, the view is looking the south/southeast. The Pequannock River enters the valley at lower right, meandering its way along the bed. Route 23 is at the bottom… those small rectangles are cars on the highway. Unfortunately, the ghost bridge is just outside this photo. You can, however, see a number of roadways heading north/south and east/west – something I did not see on my early-November visit. The small hamlet of Wallace Corner is probably not in this photo either, but you can see the road(s) that would have taken you there.
You can also see – right above Route 23 – the original path of the Paterson-Hamburg Turnpike (as discussed here).
Should you choose to visit this 19th-Century artifact, know that the Newark Watershed has regular patrols of the area. In fact, in November 2024, the West Milford police were actively ticketing visitors for trespassing.
To quote the earlier posts, the origin of these is as interesting as their content: In 1940, someone stole the black-and-yellow “Railroad Crossing” signs at the two Butler crossings on the Paterson-Hamburg Turnpike. An employee of the NYS&W (New York Susquehanna & Western) railroad was sent to document the scene. Were the vandals caught? Doubtful. The signs were, however, replaced.
In this one, we’ve made a U-turn and are driving south. Between the two railroad crossings stands the venerable old business known then, as now, as Excelsior Lumber.
Click the photo to see it full size. There are interesting details to see.
The full size photo is a real glimpse into the past. Look closely, and you’ll see that there was a railroad siding that ran behind the yard. The car is a late 1930s something (suggestions welcome).
At right is a Sunoco gas station. There are two gasoline pumps sporting glowing globes on top. The car appears to be 1920s. you can see the fellow who pumped the gas chatting with someone in the dump truck. The building was expanded into a full-service garage at some point, but the gas pumps are long gone.
Visible above the tree line is the original, really tall smokestack of the Pequannock Valley Paper Company (about half was removed when the mill closed). And straight ahead, just over the RR tracks, is a RR siding building that we saw in the first photo.
Here’s how this scene looks today.
What became of the classic black-and-orange signs? They probably graced the wall of the thieves’ garage or rec room. Were they ever caught? Was the theft responsible for an accident? I did not find any mention in the old newspapers; perhaps a railroad buff might know more.
And that’s our tour! If you enjoyed the drive, I hope you’ll let me know in the comments.
The second of three “Then & Now” photos I acquired a while back (here’s the first one).
The origin of these is as interesting as their content: In 1940, someone stole the black-and-yellow “Railroad Crossing” signs at the two Butler crossings on the Paterson-Hamburg Turnpike. An employee of the NYS&W (New York Susquehanna & Western) railroad was sent to document the scene. Were the vandals caught? Doubtful. The signs were, however, replaced.
This 1940 view shows the Paterson-Hamburg Turnpike approaching the second RR crossing as you head north, just past Maple Lake Road. The house in the distance was the Smith general store back when the area was known as Smith Mills.
Click on the photo to see it full size.
The old iron bridge ahead was replaced in 2010. Just beyond it is the building once known as the old Smith general store, still standing, as can be seen in the 2019 Google street view.
Here’s a street view of the same scene today. Feel free to drive along. Many more trees now, so the Smith store is just about visible.
And now, we’ll make a U-turn and take a better look at that lumber yard – and the gas station across the street.
Who doesn’t like “Then & Now” photos? I have some to share which have never been seen before. The origin of these is as interesting as their content: In 1940, someone stole the black-and-yellow “Railroad Crossing” signs at the two Butler crossings on the Paterson-Hamburg Turnpike. An employee of the NYS&W (New York Susquehanna & Western) railroad was sent to document the scene. Were the vandals caught? Doubtful. The signs were, however, replaced.
This 1940 view shows the Paterson-Hamburg Turnpike approaching the first RR crossing as you head north; just around the bend lies Excelsior Lumber – the same company that is still there today. (The history of the company is interesting!) The building at right, at 160 Hamburg Turnpike, has been replaced by a much larger one.
Click the photo to view it full sized.
If you look closely, above the roadside railing, are houses on Apshawa Cross Road. (There are a lot more trees now than there were then.)
Here’s a street view of the same scene today. Feel free to drive along. Note the railroad siding at far right. It was used for the lumber yard as well as for the Pequannock Valley Paper Company, which was – and still is – behind us.
Here are two views of the stores and merchants populating Main Street in Butler NJ, on a fine Spring day in March 1950. At that time it was a quiet factory town – the devastating fire that would destroy the borough’s largest employer, the Pequanoc Rubber Company, was still seven years into the future.
There’s a lot to examine in these two photos. In the first, taken from Park Place, shows the hulking three-story American Stores Company (Acme) next to Kadish Drugs. The much-beloved Nees Bakery (and other stores) are remembered to this day.
By clicking on the photo, you’ll open a new tab with the full-sized image.
If you chose to stroll up the street, you’d pass Romano’s Market, the Acme, and Kadish Drug Store. You might be tempted by the mouth-watering odors wafting from the open door of Nees Bakery. Further up, you’d pass Louis Levine’s fine furniture store, the Butler News Company, and a variety of others. At F.B. Whittle’s Hardware, you could pick up just about anything you’d need for around the home or garden. Across the street, you might see a train pulling into the Butler depot. Beyond Tintle and DePuyt Taxi Service, a ways up, you’d see the Pequanoc Soft Rubber Mill with its 225-foot smokestack. Just past Harry and Joe’s Cut Rate Meat Market, you could, if you wished, get a room at F.R. Casterlin’s Park Hotel and Stables – at one time it was known from one end of the East to the other – or just have a meal at their well-stocked bar & grill. Truly, uptown had just about anything you might need.
But wait – you haven’t seen what’s down Main Street the other way yet.
By clicking on the photo, you’ll open a new tab with the full-sized image.
At extreme left there appears to be a variety store (“$1.00 and up”). This side of the liquor store and Butler House (rooms to let) you could get your shoes repaired. After the Safeway is Claude Post’s radio and television sales and repair shop. (Those things were heavy, so he would send a repairman to take it back to the shop.) You’d stroll past Tice Hardware, Pink’s drug store, the Brass Rail (where you might wet your whistle with a beer), and more.
Down around the bend you’d spot Butler Coal & Lumber, across the street by the tracks, before arriving at Martin Cook’s Riverside Hotel. If you chose to go further, you’d find yourself at the Butler Argus building, where the next edition was being readied for printing. After that, you’d find yourself crossing the bridge into Union Square… but that’s another post.
If you’ve enjoyed this trip down memory lane, why not let me know? And credit is due to the Butler Museum, which is housed in the historic, brick-red New York, Susquehanna and Western railroad station. Many of the stores listed came from their do-it-yourself tour of Butler, using their Museum Historic Address Highlights page. The museum is well worth a visit.
Finally, as you might note, parking along Main Street was something of an issue then. The newly-formed Butler Business Men’s Association would meet (the same week as these photos, coincidentally) to discuss possible solutions.
Today, there’s parking on both sides from Park Place on up – but that wasn’t possible until the second set of tracks was removed at some point.
