“Pompton Plains, New Jersey” is a famous painting by Jasper Francis Cropsey from about 1867.
Opinions differ on just where Mr. Cropsey placed himself while painting this wonderful view of the Pompton Valley. (Maybe if you could find that boulder…) You can see the Pompton River in the foreground; some speculate that the Morris Canal feeder dam lay just beyond the bend.
But if you look closely, right there in the center, is the First Reformed Church of Pompton Plains. (I’ve written about this church before.)
Do you see it? It’s way off in the distance. If you need a hint, here you go. (You can also click on the image above to see it vastly enlarged.)
We modern folk need to keep in mind that, in the 19th Century, the Pompton Valley was pretty empty. There were few buildings, and vast portions weren’t covered by trees as is the case today.
Other buildings in Cropsey’s painting may be identified. For example, this one – to the right of the church – appears to show the Martin Berry House and a barn in front of it. Look for the gap between the mountains in the full-sized image.
Since we know where the church is, it may be possible to identify some of the buildings on either side from other sources.
“Pompton Plains, New Jersey” may be seen at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
As anyone who has lived in or near the Pequannock valley knows, we get floods from time to time. The convergence of three rivers makes it inevitable whenever there is prolonged and copious rain. I’ll write a post on several infamous floods at some point, but this post is about a flood that took place in April 1927, and a young mother, camping out in a riverside bungalow in Pompton Plains, who rescued her family from one.
I can’t match the breathless writing of this newspaper article, so I’ll just post it. Click on each image for a full-sized and readable version. I’ve added my comments afterward.
Part One of this incredible tale. Click to open full-sized image.
Pretty incredible, right? Imagine you’re in the middle of nowhere (Pequannock Twp was a lightly-populated village at this point), sleeping soundly in what was probably a one-room bungalow right on the river. You are awakened by odd sounds, you swing your legs off the bed and… into knee-deep water.
Since the article only calls her “Mrs. Ormsbee”, I took to the Ancestry website and discovered that her name was AliceShe was born Alice Miller in Beacon NY in 1900. She was 24 at the time this happened. With her was her mother (age unknown, but likely in her 40s) and her two young children, a son aged two and four-month-old daughter.
Part Two of this incredible tale. Click to open full-sized image.
So: It’s the middle of the night, it’s raining , your cabin is flooding, and it’s pitch black outside because the power is out. She leads her mother and two very young kids through the darkness to the bridge, hoping to get to the main road, only to find herself falling into the river because half the bridge is gone. She grabs a canoe and gets her family into it, and they all endure a night of terror until they’re rescued in the morning.
(The article notes she was “embarrassed by their clothing” likely because they were in their night clothes, and didn’t stop to get dressed.)
But what an incredibly brave young woman, at a time when women were widely regarded as kind of helpless, and weren’t expected to do or know much. Her two-year-old son, Roland, because a doctor and died in 1995. I don’t know when or where Alice passed, but I’ve reached out to someone who has her in his family tree. Perhaps I’ll learn more.
Pequannock residents still fondly recall a German restaurant known as the Triangle Hofbrau. In its last incarnation, it stood on Route 23 in Pequannock at the corner of Madison Street. It was an authentically high-class German restaurant, specializing in sauerbraten, roast Long Island Duckling, leg of lamb, reh schnitzel (venison steak), and a variety of seafood.
Triangle Hofbrau’s holiday dinner menu. Literally everything from soup to nuts.
The original Hans’ Triangle Grill, a humble hot dog stand, was opened about 1932 on the Newark-Pompton Turnpike, on a literal triangle of land that intersects Lincoln Park Road. (In later years the location would be home to The Point, Rumsellers, and other establishments. Now, it’s a bank.) It was owned and run by Hans and Hilda Gropp, who had immigrated years before.
In 1933, when NJ began building Route 23, Hans and Hilda purchased land on the southbound side and moved the Triangle Grill there. The grand opening on July 30, 1936 was an immediate success, due in part to the traffic passing by. In those days, the highway’s north- and south-bound lanes were separated by a grass median. Conveniently, an opening in the median permitted north-bound cars to pull right into the parking lot.
At first, the Triangle Grill didn’t have a bar.
Inside, the tap room and dining rooms were finished in knotty pine to resemble an Alpine hunting lodge. A varied selection of choice wines and liquors joined the menu. At some point soon after, the Gropps renamed it the Triangle Hofbrau, and expanded their menu, making it a full-fledged — and authentically German — restaurant.
Over the decades, various changes and additions were made. I believe this was how it looked in the 1930s. The original house (with living quarters upstairs) is still recognizable. At the far right was the original walk-up window for hot dogs and such. The parking lot is unpaved, too.
When the Triangle Grill re-opened on Route 23, there was a walk-up window — you can see the steps at the far right — but an indoor seating area made it obsolete.At some point, the Dutch Colonial roof line was replaced with a standard peaked roof.
The Hofbrau served the area for many decades. The Gropps retired; other owners took over. According to W. Jay Wanczyk, head of the Pequannock Historic District Commission, ownership only changed hands three times in all of its history.
But in late 2007, the Triangle Hofbrau closed its doors for the last time. The place was sold to new owners, and Tiff’s Rivaaz now serves delicious food in its stead.
This is how I remember the Hofbrau; I passed it a zillion times, as I grew up on Madison Street. Compare with the earlier photos.
Several additions were made to the Hofbrau, including the huge dining room at left.
Dr. Charles D. Van Romondt (1847-1926) — typically referred to as “C.D.V. Romondt” — was described as a man “whose reputation is wide-spread”, and as “a leader in all plans which tended toward the elevation of the community with which he has been connected for so many years.”
Dr. Romondt’s residence was on Schelling Terrace, just off the Turnpike, and was razed in 2018.
Born in 1847 in New Brunswick NJ, he attended public school there. He was admitted into the College of Physicians and Surgeons at Columbia University in New York City, and graduated in 1872. He practiced medicine there for a few years before deciding to move to Pompton Plains in 1878. According to Emily Slingerland, quoted in a 1964 newspaper article, Dr. Romondt was the first doctor to live in the township. Before that, those seeking medical treatment needed to travel to Bloomfield.
Besides his medical practice, Romondt served as the township’s health inspector, as well as the medical inspector for the schools there. He also found time to be employed as a medical examiner for several insurance companies.
In 1890 he married Anna Doremus ( 1856–1955 ), who assisted her husband during his long medical practice in Pompton Plains.
The doctor was a member of several civic organizations, including the Junior Order of United American Mechanics. This group met at Paul Revere Hall, which isn’t surprising given the Jr. O. U. A. M. built it. You can view the cornerstone — today, the building is known as the American Legion Hall.
He died in 1926 and is buried at the Reformed Church in Pompton Plains.
FARM FOR SALE – The farm belonging to Sam’l Berry, dec’d, on Pompton Plains, is offered for sale, in parts or whole, to suit the purchaser, situated on the main road from Newark to Pompton, also on the road leading to Paterson, and within ten minutes walk of the Church and Academy. For particulars enquire of PETER S. BERRY 157 Charles st, N.Y. or HUGH HEATH, 6 Columbia st Newark, or on the premises.
The “main road from Newark to Pompton” was, in fact, the Newark-Pompton Turnpike. “Within ten minutes walk of the Church and the [Union] Academy” tells us it wasn’t far from the First Reformed Church of Pompton Plains. That’s all I know; perhaps some Berry descendant can add more in the Comments.
Your typical “greetings from” postcard shows a generic illustration of fields, a country road, a lake, or whatever. This one, at least, does appear to have been taken in Pequannock. It shows a lovely view of the river… with Newark’s four-foot water pipeline crossing it.
Postcard sent in 1922
An idyllic scene, ostensibly from Pompton Plains. It’s probably a generic card, as witness the blocky font with the town’s name. “Greetings from YOUR TOWN HERE”.
“Dawn’s Rest” was, in the early part of the 20th Century, one of many places that a weary traveler could put up his feet and relax for a spell. Back in the day, Pequannock — in fact, the whole of north Jersey — was tranquil and restful. It offered a respite from busy city life (by comparison).
Dawn’s Rest ad (1914)
Mrs. Dawn’s place offered “large, airy rooms” just a short walk from the railroad station. Naturally, all the meals were “home cooked”, including vegetables from a no doubt sizable garden out back. And it was open all year, guaranteed to be “an ideal winter home for settled people”.
Dawn’s Rest, Pompton Plains, looking south (early 1900s)
Dawn’s Rest, Pompton Plains, looking north (early 1900s)
We have a pretty good idea where Dawn’s Rest was once situated: on the Turnpike, just south of Jackson Avenue. This 1937 Sanborne map marks it as “vacant”.
Dawn’s Rest location
Today, there’s a strip mall at that location. It’s between the Little Food Inn and the Lutjen building.
So who was “Mrs. A. Dawn”? I can’t seem to find her in either the Ancestry or FamilySearch genealogy databases. Maybe it was a pseudonym.
One of my early and vivid memories: Toward the end of May, 1968, we got rain in north Jersey. Lots of it. Not just in Pequannock, but that’s where I lived then; that was my world.
I’d never experienced the sight of water coming up our street, reaching our driveway, surrounding our house… and, finally, getting into our house. Filling the basement, and inexorably climbing the basement stairs. Heavy stuff for three young boys as their parents did what they could to save our stuff.
Many say this is still the benchmark by which all subsequent floods are measured.
1887 map of Pequannock Twp. Click for full-size version.
Here’s what Pequannock looked like in 1887. It was much larger than today’s 7-square-mile area — it still included Bloomingdale, Butler, Kinnelon, and Lincoln Park. Jefferson had split off in 1804, Rockaway Township in 1844, and Boonton and Montville took their leave in 1867.
Butler kicked off the 20th Century by declaring itself a new borough in 1901, while Kinnelon and Lincoln Park went their separate ways in 1922.
