Hidden Bargains on the Garden State Parkway

Eagle-eyed travelers along the Garden State Parkway might notice subtle yet distinctive differences to the road's construction as they travel between the New York state border and Cape May. Specifically, in the area between Woodbridge and Cranford, overpasses take the form of attractive stone arches, or in the case of railroad trestles, a combination of stoneface walls and horizontal steel beam. 

Not coincidentally, these small relics of the Parkway's origins also mark a small stretch of the road that's truly a bargain. Those fourteen miles of highway are absolutely toll free.

Not just "no toll plazas, no EZPass." Absolutely free. It's a fine distinction, but hear me out.

The Parkway, like many things in New Jersey, has a complicated origin story, as I was reminded recently when researching a 40 cent difference between the price of gas at the Colonia service areas and every other service area on the Parkway. How is this possible when the NJ Turnpike Authority (and the NJ Highway Authority before it) requires service area operators to maintain the same price for all locations on the road?

The Parkway's early stoneface elements are evident
where the road crosses the Rahway River in Cranford.
Centennial Ave crosses overhead. 

It all goes back to the birth of the Parkway in 1946, when the New Jersey Legislature authorized the State Highway Department to build what was then designated the Route 4 Parkway between Clifton and Cape May, with a spur from Woodbridge to Trenton. Nothing in the original legislation required the legislature to increase the State Highway Department's budget to build a 150-mile long road.  

Ground for the toll-free highway was broken in Clark that year, and the four lane parkway -- including a broad grassy median separating north- and southbound traffic -- began to take shape. A total of 22 miles was built in Union, Ocean and Cape May counties before funds were exhausted in 1952. 

Perhaps the mandate-without-funding method wasn't the best way to go? Governor Alfred Driscoll (namesake of the Raritan-spanning bridge) was committed to getting the highway done and the New Jersey Highway Authority (NJHA) was established in 1952 to complete the project. The NJHA was entrusted to issue voter-approved bonds as a reliable funding source for land acquisition and highway construction, rather than leaving it to the fate of annual state budget negotiations. Bond holders would be paid back with the proceeds from tolls charged at eight planned cross-highway toll plazas and a few on- and off-ramps. Once the debt was paid off, the tolls would be eliminated.*

The legislation that created the NJHA also mandated that the portions of the Parkway that had been built by the State Highway Department with funds from the state budget would be exempt from tollbooths.** Depending on how you define the term, you could say the Parkway is a freeway for that stretch. Considering there was neither a state income tax nor a sales tax at the time, the average New Jerseyan got a pretty good deal from that back in 1952, even if the average 21st century driver doesn't know the difference.

But what's that got to do with the price of gas in Colonia, you ask? 

We get a hint from NJHA brochures issued in the early days of the highway. Chock full of useful details and convenient north-to-south and south-to-north maps, the handouts list the Colonia stations' location as "State Section," indicating that they were constructed with the original part of the Parkway. Indeed, a 2017 NJ.com article notes that the stations were built on private property, though the Turnpike Authority owns the land surrounding them.

Because the gas stations aren't on Turnpike property, they're not required to follow the same pricing rules as the Bon Jovi (Cheesequake), the Houston (Vauxhall) or any of the other service areas. That's why Ivan and I got the pleasant shock of actual cheap gas on a recent drive home from Cape May. 

Whether the big price difference will stick or not, only time will tell, but it's worth keeping an eye on if your travels bring you along that stretch of the Parkway on a regular basis.

At the very least, enjoy your free ride between Cranford and Woodbridge.

*Insert cynical statement here. 

**You can read it in PL1952, chap. 16, page 91, helpfully digitized by the New Jersey State Library here.

Here's to you, Dr. Robinson: finding the 17th century in Clark

One of the fascinating aspects of Northern New Jersey is how history is sometimes obscured within the community that's developed around it. You can walk or drive past a centuries-old building and not realize it, given how it's seemingly shoehorned between a gas station and a Dunkin Donuts. I'm struck by this every time I drive through an intersection where the Merchants and Drovers Tavern stands in Rahway. Several buildings nearby look distinctly Colonial and old enough to be authentic, but there's no signage to confirm it.

Not far from the Merchants and Drovers is a house that had already been standing a century when the tavern and those other structures were built. In fact, the house in question was built in the days of East and West Jersey, 85 years before the start of the American Revolution.

The Robinson House, 21st century...

Now that's OLD. It's so old that when it was built as a farmhouse for physician and surgeon William Robinson and his family, the surrounding land wasn't known as a farm but as a plantation. Today, it's still got a nice piece of land around it -- by Union County standards, at least -- but much of the plantation has been replaced by a much newer housing development. And for a period of time, it was seemingly just another house, maybe appearing not so remarkable in context with its neighbors.

Dr. Robinson came to East Jersey in June 1684, as part of a movement of Scots encouraged to settle in the English colonies of the New World. Finding the area suitable, he returned to Scotland to retrieve his family to settle here in 1686. He'd bought a parcel of land on the Rahway River and built the a house in 1690, eventually expanding his holdings to nearly 750 acres.

... and a century ago.

Viewing the house from the street, it's difficult to believe that people lived there until 1965, a feeling that's perpetuated when you go inside to discover a rustic interior with authentic wooden beams and floors. However, it changed with the times, and archival photos show the exterior with additional windows and a dormer on the roof, suggesting that the interior was likely remodeled extensively over the years.

After gaining possession of the house in 1973, the Township of Clark restored the building to its original rustic, New England style look, eliminating extra windows and other features that had been added since Dr. Robinson's day. It's been lauded by historians as a superior example of early American architecture, one of the few still existing in the country that incorporates aspects of medieval architecture.

Likewise, the Clark Historical Society has assembled a fun collection of artifacts from Dr. Robinson's era and beyond. Regular visitors to Colonial house museums will recognize some of the staples -- spinning wheel, candle molds, butter churn, bedwarmer -- but the Medicine Room is a special treat. Besides a representative sample of herbs used by physicians of Robinson's day, artifacts include a blood-letting knife that would have been used to draw the "bad blood" from an ailing patient.

When you visit, be sure to check out the cellar and the attic, too. Upstairs, the Historical Society maintains a wall-mounted, poster-sized scrap book that includes photos of the restoration process, along with maps, an inventory of Robinson's property at death, and documentation on the house's provenance. The cellar, once the probable shelter protecting livestock from bad weather and predators, now holds an assortment of items that range into the 20th century. Depending on your age, you might remember some of them from your grandparents' garage or basement, or possibly from the Smithsonian.

Step outside and you're back in the 21st century, wondering about the mysteries other houses might hold. Could there be a home in your own neighborhood, older than it appears to be?

Par three, swampy Revolution and the Underground Railroad, all in Clark

Somehow, maybe even by mistake, a historic battle site in Union County has been masquerading first as a golf course, and now as a passive recreation area. And as it turns out, it might also have played a role in the freedom of scores of enslaved people before the Emancipation Proclamation.

These days, Oak Ridge Park, on the border separating Clark and Edison, looks a fair deal like the county golf course it once was. With just moderate inclines scattered from place to place, it was probably a fairly easy challenge for new golfers and a reliable walk in the park for the senior duffers. Sand traps and tee boxes have been removed, but much of the macadam pathway is still available for strollers or cyclists who want to get some exercise without battling traffic.

An older home stands near the parking lot, looking a lot like a Colonial-style clubhouse. Or a Colonial era home, which is how it started its life. Before we get to the house, though, we'll tackle the battle.

Not many people know about the Battle of the Short Hills, and I'll wager that if you asked anyone where it took place, they'd tell you it was somewhere in Millburn. It's an understandable assumption, but incorrect. Depending on which historian you consult, you might hear the location referred to as Flat Hills, or Metuchen Meeting House, or even Westfield.

What's known for sure is that a conflict took place on June 26, 1777 in present-day Scotch Plains and Edison, on land known as the Ash Swamp. The British, led by Lieutenant General William Howe, had left Staten Island for points near New Brunswick earlier in the month, attempting to draw Washington and his troops from their perch in the Watchungs at Middlebrook. Having failed to engage the Americans, Howe began to lead his men back toward Perth Amboy.

Washington, however, ordered his troops to follow the British, sending General William Alexander (Lord Stirling) and the 2500 men under his command to harass the Redcoats. While Stirling's outnumbered troops may be said to have lost the skirmish, the battle is considered to have been a strategic win for the Americans. The British horses became mired in the thick swamp, allowing Washington the opportunity to move to more secure ground. (Longtime readers might also recall that the aftermath spawned the local legend about Aunt Betty Frazee, who bravely challenged Cornwallis' request for her freshly-baked bread.)

It's not clear if the house at Oak Ridge played a role in the battle, or if it sustained any damage, but it clearly witnessed the conflict. Known as Homestead Farm or Homestead Plantation, it was built sometime around 1730 by Shubal and William Smith. In the custom of the times for many large farms, the Smiths were slaveholders, and records show that both slave quarters and a cemetery were located on a portion of the property that's now on the other side of present day Oak Ridge Road. Slavery was legal in New Jersey until 1804, when gradual emancipation was instituted.

Interestingly, in the years after the Smiths owned the plantation, the property may have evolved from a workplace for slaves to a temporary haven for those escaping bondage. The home was eventually purchased by Quaker abolitionist and jurist Hugh Hartshorne Bowne, who is known to have been active in the Underground Railroad. While there were no prominent URR routes through Union County, it is known that conductors often stopped at nearby Rahway for fresh horses before continuing the journey to Jersey City. Bowne's cousin George Hartshorne was also known to have harbored escaped slaves in his Clark home, raising the possibility that the house at Oak Ridge might have taken in the occasional informal guest as well.

Whether this story will ever be told on the property is anyone's guess. Since the county closed the golf course in 2009, there have been infrequent talk about the future of the site; most recently plans were floated to build an ice rink. The house seems to be safe, or at least not scheduled for destruction or radical renovation.