Wilderness on the Hudson: war, peace and farming in Dutch New Jersey

You might remember that a couple of years ago, we discovered the East Coast Greenway and wondered what it would be like to take the full 93 mile New Jersey portion. Well, we recently checked out the northernmost portion from the George Washington Bridge down a few miles along Bergen County's busy River Road.

Photo by Michael Herrick, Dec 11 2010,
courtesy HMDB.org

Due to Fort Lee's notoriously bad parking situation, we started the walk in Edgewater, with monk parakeets coasting and squawking overhead. As we threaded our way along sidewalks and narrow dirt paths, we noticed a blue historic marker just off the road alongside the driveway for the American Legion. The title alone - Vriessendael - transported us from the frenetic traffic of 21st century North Jersey to the peaceful woods of the 17th century wilderness of New Netherland.

We'd stumbled on the first known European-settled colony of what's now Bergen County.

Before we get into the Vriessendael connection, a little background is in order. Contrary to what most folks commonly believe, it wasn't the English who originally settled in what's now New Jersey. It was traders from the Netherlands, who arrived in 1624 as representatives of the Dutch West India Company. And unlike the English who'd originally come to the New World for religious reasons, the Dutch were primarily here to establish commerce and enlarge their sphere of trade.

You could probably say that at its roots, New York was America's first company town. Rather than having elected government or a religious leader, New Amsterdam, as it was called, was managed by the company, with a director essentially serving as the branch manager. After discovering the vast riches of beaver pelts, lumber and other natural resources to be had, the Dutch established trade with the local Lenape tribes, who were largely willing to do business. Thus was begun a complex, sometimes wary yet mutually-beneficial relationship between the newcomers and the natives.

A few years after setting up shop on Manhattan, the company started to present patroonships, or land grants, to its invested members as a way of encouraging settlement and building the colony's population. Like lords in the old English system, patroons had the right to hold their land in perpetuity in return for establishing the settlement (in the Dutch case, a minimum of 50 families within four years of the start of the colony). To ensure a civilized and orderly community, the patroon could appoint government officials and establish civil and criminal courts. Settlers were considered tenants of the patroon, working for him and paying tribute in the form of money, goods or services.

Sea captain and trader David deVries was among the patroons. As early as 1632, he established an initial but ultimately unsuccessful patroonship in present-day Delaware. Next, he tried a location in Staten Island, but became the unwitting victim of what might be termed a poor corporate takeover, attempted by a bad manager.

Willem Kieft, the new director of the New Netherland colony, was getting heat from company leadership in Amsterdam. Like today's corporate leaders, they were looking to cut costs for the colony, mostly in the form of security (the army in place to protect the colony), and in the payments the West Indies Company made to the native tribes for rights to use the land.

And true to what we see in modern corporate America, Kieft came up with a less-than optimal plan to appease the home office. Only problem was, it wasn't going to fly locally. First, against advice from folks who'd been in Manhattan much longer than he had, the striving director attempted to collect financial tribute from tribal chiefs. When they turned him down outright, Kieft attempted to get his way by accusing the Indians of theft and then sending soldiers to Staten Island to retaliate. The supposed theft? Pigs from David de Vries' patroonship. Angry natives then retaliated by raiding the property, burning down de Vries' house and killing four of his employees.

Kieft had set a pretty nasty precedent, antagonizing the Indians who vastly outnumbered the Europeans. As he became increasingly more bellicose, de Vries and others attempted to dissuade him from continuing hostilities, all to no avail. The Indians had been their friends for many years before Kieft had arrived in the colony, and many of the longtime settlers, including de Vries, started calling for the director's removal.

Through this time, de Vries forged ahead with his plans to create yet another patroonship, this time on the shores of the Hudson at present-day Edgewater. Vriessendael was established in 1640, as a plantation of corn and tobacco fields with the requisite accommodations for additional settlers. It lasted for three years, finally succumbing to one of the repeated warring disputes between Kieft's forces and the Lenape.

Finally thoroughly disgusted with the colony's leadership and Kieft's treatment of the Indians, de Vries left for Holland in 1643, never to return to New Netherlands. As for Kieft, he somehow lasted another four years before being fired by the Dutch West Indies Company. His bosses didn't even get a chance to call him out on the carpet: he died in a shipwreck on the way back to Holland to defend himself.

I think we can be pretty well assured that our future jaunts on the East Coast Greenway will uncover several more stories of New Jersey's past. Hopefully they'll be a bit happier for the folks involved.

For a more comprehensive history of the New Netherlands colony, I strongly recommend Russell Shorto's The Island at the Center of the World. Though it only mentions New Jersey's Dutch settlements in passing, it's a fascinating, thought-provoking work.

Discovering the colony near the foot of the GWB

Not far from the site of the actual Fort Lee in Fort Lee, there's a tiny enclave that's been both a haven for the well-to-do and a camp for Depression-era day laborers. Edgewater Colony's history that reflects several parts of American history and experiences, and you'd barely know the community is there, but for the small sign at the entrance near River Road.

I found it as I was driving to visit the famous parakeets of Edgewater. The entrance looked pleasant and welcoming enough, but I sensed that maybe it wasn't a driving around kind of place. Thus, I waited till I got home to do my exploring online. When I did, I found I'd discovered what's essentially an accidental planned community. Residents own shares of the cooperative community rather than the ground below the houses they buy there, so there are no property lines, and it's run by its own board and bylaws though still part of the town of Edgewater.

That in itself isn't all that remarkable; it's the history of the place that makes it interesting. Originally known as Burdette's Landing, the area seems to have been part of Fort Lee (again, the fort that the town is named for) during the Revolutionary War, acting as a vital ferry link to Fort Washington on Manhattan. Nearly a hundred years later, the area became the site of the Fort Lee Park Hotel, a massive riverside resort hosting wealthy New Yorkers seeking fun and entertainment outside the city boundaries. The hotel burned to the ground in 1914, leaving the property open to less well-off working-class families who set up homesteads there.

The foundation for what became Edgewater Colony was set in the 1920s when Hartnett's Camps opened as yet another vacation haven on the shores of the Hudson. Unlike the old Fort Lee Park, however, the accommodations were more rustic, with bungalows that rented for $30 per season. When the construction of the George Washington Bridge started nearby in 1929, the men doing the nuts-and-bolts work adopted Hartnett's property as their temporary home, just a few miles from their worksite.

Mr. Hartnett (I haven't been able to find his first name) died in the 1940s, leaving a will that gave the the bungalow renters first rights to buy shares of the property for $1300 each. Those who decided to stay eventually incorporated into a formal cooperative that to this day maintains the roads and other common elements.

Reading the Edgewater Colony website, it sounds as if it's a tight-knit, friendly community whose residents appreciate and take pride in the location's heritage. It's kind of nice to see how down to earth the place is, especially given how pricy and exclusive some of the neighboring areas have become. In fact, if you see an opportunity to buy in, it might be worth a shot: the share price hasn't gone up since the original offering, making the Colony one of the most reasonably-priced places in Bergen County.

Meeting the Edgewater parakeets

Given the seasonably warm weather we'd been having, I decided to take a solo trip to check out the Monk Parakeets of Edgewater. I've known about them since I worked for PSE&G. The birds tend to build their enormous nests next to pole-top transformers, which is a fire danger and has the potential to short out the electrical service to entire neighborhoods.

Parakeets, nicely obscured.
Kinda nice photo, don't you think?

Parakeets flying free in the New Jersey suburbs? Yup... more than 200 of them, apparently, and they've pretty much been spiritually adopted by Edgewater residents, who put out bird feeders for them and enjoy their antics. The birds themselves are about a foot long with a 19 inch wingspan, and are mostly a delightful shade of green, with a gray chest and underbelly.

Finding them could be an adventure. Edgewater isn't a huge town, but I didn't really relish the idea of driving slowly up and down streets, looking for flashes of green and listening for squawks. Before I left, I did a quick Google search to see if I could locate a street, at least, where they'd been seen, and go from there. That, I was able to find.

My route took me close to the Lincoln Tunnel and then north through Union City and then Weehawken (note to self: next time, stop at the park and look for the site of the famous duel between Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr). The whole time, I wasn't more than a few blocks from the shoreline of the Hudson River, sometimes with spectacular views of Manhattan. No doubt, some pricey apartments along the way.

Once in Edgewater, I quickly found the street I was looking for, but as I drove it slowly, I saw no evidence of the parakeets. Hmm... maybe they'd moved? I went back to River Road, the main drag, and figured I'd try another cross street a little farther up.

Waiting for a traffic light, I saw important evidence in a park on the opposite side of the street. One of the trees had a few very large nests constructed of sturdy sticks. Yup: former parakeet condos. There could be something nearby! I made a quick left and parked the car a few yards up from the tree.

Before leaving the house, I'd made the strategic decision to bring only the camera. Somehow, I felt that using binoculars in a residential neighborhood would look a little suspicious. This thought, however, did not occur to me when it came to the moderately long lens I was using, and the unipod I set up to ensure I got some shake-free closeups. Accustomed to visiting birders, the locals wouldn't think twice about bins... it's the camera that might seem a tad weird.

In any case, it didn't take long for me to spot the birds just across the street from where I'd parked. They seemed to be attracted to two trees -- one vine covered and the other totally lacking any foliage. Some were perched there as if it was their 9-5 job; others flew in and away periodically. It took a few moments for me to grasp that I'd actually found them so easily (initially I was convinced they had to be really weird pigeons or something), but once I had, I started snapping photos rapidly. I didn't know what kind of shots I'd get, but that's the glory of digital photography: you just shoot and ask questions later. What you're seeing here are just a few examples of what I was able to crop from larger photos. I'm starting to think that maybe there's something to this nature photography stuff (another note to self: resist urge to buy several expensive camera lenses).

A guy from a nearby pizza place came out to ask me if I was taking pictures of the birds. He proudly told me they'd been there about 15 years and that "they own those two trees." Good location info, and I'm glad I got there before the leaves start to bud and obscure the swarm of perched birds.

You might be asking why it is that tropical birds have made a home in Northern New Jersey. Well, it's a good question, with many hypotheses. These guys have settled in several places around the country, including, most locally, Brooklyn. The unproven theory is that the original birds escaped from a shipment at one of the airports about 30 years ago, but nobody really knows. Like so many New Jerseyans, they came from somewhere else, and regardless of how they got here, they seem to be sticking around for the long haul, through tough winters and sizzling summers. You've got to give them credit for that. And at least they don't have to pay property tax.