Where the Naugles hide

"We have to go to the Naugle House." It was either that, or words to that extent, that Ivan declared as I steered the car down Route 17.

"What's a naugle," you ask? Yup, I asked, too. If you get enough naugle hide, can you make a nice recliner? How many naugles would it take? As we considered various naugle-related questions, we left the highway for some back roads and eventually ended up at Saddle River County Park in Fair Lawn. This, Ivan explained, was a true example of hidden New Jersey: a small gem off the beaten path.

Right on the side of the driveway to the park was a small wood and stone house with plywood-clad windows, surrounded by a chain link fence of recent vintage. This sign was next to the house:

"Built by a Naugle?" I exclaimed. Like, what's a Naugle? I mean, it's not often that wayside markers are so imprecise as to not identify someone by their full name (unless really famous like Lafayette, that is), so maybe a naugle is a what and not a who? At the very least, this sign seemed to prove that naugle isn't a verb -- there wasn't any naugling going on at this place. Think about it:  it was a possibility. I'll leave that for you to consider.

Our friendly Fair Lawn tourguide
introduces us to the Naugle House
which didn't start out
as a Naugle House.

Ivan was a bit surprised to see the house in a derelict state, as he could remember it being occupied throughout his school years. In fact, he'd brought college friends there to visit, and they'd met a man there who'd shook the hand of a man who shook the hand of a man who (add a few more generations here) had shook the hand of General George Washington. I guess he had his own little six degrees of Kevin Bacon going on there. (So when you meet Ivan, be sure to shake his hand so you can join in the chain). And yes, he confirmed, a family named Naugle had lived in the house.

So, me being me, I did a little research once I got home. First off, there are two other Naugle houses (if not more) in Bergen County, both in Closter. These folks apparently got around, but the Fair Lawn house seems to be the only one that someone has claimed was actually built by a Naugle. Imagine that: you've got a handy guy in the family, but he refuses to help you build your house.

This specific Fair Lawn Naugle house was built sometime in the 1740's or '50's, according to Preservation New Jersey, which placed the building on its Most Endangered list of 2007. The story on the wayside marker is in some doubt, as the property was originally deeded to a Vanderbeck, whose sister married a man named Brouwer who moved into the house and was eventually the paymaster for Lafayette's Light Division. Additionally, it's been determined that Lafayette visited the house in the 1790s, not 1824. No Naugle lived in the house until the 1800s, and then intermittently after that. In other words, the Fair Lawn College Club had the story totally wrong.

Regardless, it's a great example of how history can morph and grow into local legends that make a place remarkable even if the story may be specious. And ultimately, the Naugle House is teaching local residents an important lesson about growth, development and the power of small groups of people with a common purpose.

In 2004, descendants of the Naugles sold the property to a developer, along with adjacent land, with the vision of building several townhouses. (Yes, more new construction is just what Bergen County needs.) Long story short, local residents passed an open space referendum in 2005 to preserve the house. The whole thing moved forward largely through the action of a persistent group of fourth grade students who prodded the borough to buy the property from the developer. The sale is expected to go through very soon.

Now, the house awaits stabilization and eventual restoration, which could take as long as 20 years to complete, considering the need to apply for and receive grants. For the time being, local historians are doing further research to uncover the full story of the house, from its construction to now. Hopefully, they'll be able to get to the bottom of the facts, but even if they don't, it'll be a pretty cool place to visit, incomplete history and all.

Behold... the globe

One last thing about the Fair Lawn jaunt: before we left town, Ivan told me there's something in the library that I had to see. I've come to trust his judgement on that kind of stuff, so off we went.

Here's what he led me to:

Yup -- you got it.  It's a 6 foot wide, 7 foot tall, 350-pound Rand McNally geophysical relief globe. And it rotates on its axis.  According to a sign posted next to it when it was donated by the Rotary Club in 1967, it's the "largest, most accurate and detailed relief globe ever made. The prototype was created at a cost of 1/2 million [sic] dollars and took two years to complete." The sign also stated that on the globe, Mount Everest is 3/4 inch high, constructed of epoxy and reinforced with fiberglass laminations.  It takes three minutes to make a full revolution.

I did a little more research and discovered that this specific globe cost more than $12,000. The Fair Lawn globe had brothers at the Library Of Congress and the Buhl Science Center in Pittsburgh, though I couldn't find confirmation that those are still on display. In any case, globie here is not one-of-a-kind, but it's close.

Exploring the Town for the Motor Age

Rain came down in sheets this past Sunday, so the usual birding/exploration jaunt was curtailed quite a bit. As an alternate, Ivan suggested a trip to the Town for the Motor Age -- Radburn.

New Jersey is home to a number of experiments in community planning, from the uber-exclusive Llewellen Park in West Orange, to the cooperative labor enclave of Roosevelt, and, of course, the concrete houses scattered around the state. Radburn, nestled within the Bergen County town of Fair Lawn, was conceived as a truly walkable living and working place that insulates pedestrians from motor traffic.

Designed and built in 1929 by Henry Wright and Clarence Stein, Radburn adheres to Aristotle's dictum that cities should be built to give inhabitants security and happiness. Rather than looking at property from an individual use standpoint, the development was considered as a whole, taking the totality of residents' needs into consideration. The architecture has an attractive brick, quasi-Tudor look.

Essentially, homes were placed along culs-de-sac, with the front of the structure directed to common park areas. "Service" areas of the home, like the kitchen, were set on the street side of the home so the living areas would have a nice park view. Sidewalks meander nicely through the area, emphasizing walkability. In a state where having a car is virtually a requirement, it was awfully visionary of Radburn's planners to create a haven where kids didn't even need to cross a street to get to their grade school. Instead, there's a charming underpass decorated by murals the kids painted themselves.

Governed by a non-profit community association and designed for a population of 5000, Radburn currently has about 3100 residents living within a variety of homes. Most are single family homes, but townhouses, two-family houses, apartments and condos are available. Thus, a person could have a suitable place to live in the community throughout all stages of life: childhood, young single, married, parenthood and then retirement.

In fact, you probably could live your whole life within Radburn's confines, considering what's there for your use. Food shopping is within walking distance, while the historic Radburn Plaza building offers services from salons to lawyers. There's also a considerable variety of recreation options: playgrounds, tennis courts, pools, an archery plaza, basketball courts, and a ball field. There is also a community center which houses administrative offices, library, gymnasium, clubroom and maintenance shops. If you want to get away, the Radburn train station is served by New Jersey Transit's Bergen Main Line.

Unfortunately, the Great Depression spelled bankruptcy for the community's developers, and the full, expanded vision for Radburn was never realized. Nonetheless, it continues to make an impact on residential design as planners still visit to learn more about the concept and how it works. All in all, pretty darn cool.