Going to church: the amazingly well-preserved Old Broad Street Presbyterian

I've long been of the mind that keeping a historic building in continuous use is the best way to keep it from deteriorating. An impressive structure on West Broad Street in Bridgeton proves that sometimes, the direct opposite is true.

Standing on a full city block along the main road, surrounded by scattered gravestones from the late 18th century to the present, the Old Broad Street Church owes a good part of its fine condition to the fact that it was largely abandoned in 1836, just over 40 years after it was built. According to the church's website, it may be the most pristine example of Georgian high ecclesiastical architecture surviving in the thirteen original states.

We visited on a recent Sunday afternoon, when the congregation generously opened the doors to a curious public. From the outside, the two-story brick building appears both stately and simple, designed in the manner of the Philadelphia churches of the day. Doors on three sides of the rectangular church welcome visitors; curiously, the only side without a door is the one that faces the road. One of the side doors was open, and as we walked past, I noticed what appeared to be a metal beam running from a metal box diagonally up to the ceiling. Was this some sort of reinforcement, added during a restoration attempt? Hopefully we'd find out.

A bit of neck strain for the folks in the expensive
seats? Photo courtesy Library of Congress. 

Walking inside, we were welcomed by a member of the friends organization, who gave us a brief history of the church, the first Christian congregation organized in Bridgeton. Its original members had been worshiping at far-flung churches and wanted their own meeting place in the growing town. By 1795, they had their own church, complete with box-style pews. The more prosperous congregants usually purchased pews closest to the front of the church, but as our hostess observed, prominence may have come with a cost. Sitting so close to the elevated pulpit, the rich folk had to strain their necks to see the minister in his elevated pulpit. Meanwhile, the view from the back pews was just fine.
 
The building's simplicity reminded me of a lot of Colonial-era Presbyterian churches I've visited, but unlike those, I could easily imagine early Americans sitting in Old Broad's pews to worship. Instead of wood floors, this church had brick, and the white paint on the pews both looked and felt sturdier -- more durable -- than what you usually see in a building that's been converted to central heating. The only concession to weather extremes is that curious metal contraption I'd noticed earlier, a two-stove and piping system constructed at nearby Atsion and installed in 1809. No other modernization has been done to the building since then: no plumbing, no electrical work, no mechanical systems.

This plaster medallion adorns the center of the ceiling.

It's a wonder the ornate plaster ceiling details have lasted so long, given the lack of climate control. That said, the absence of complications like plumbing and a constantly-working furnace may be what saved it. Uneven heating and leaky pipes have been the downfall of countless neglected historic structures.

As our hostess shared the history of the congregation, another docent told us we absolutely had to check out the balcony level, especially the east side. Religion had been part of the curriculum at the local school in the early 1800s, so students were brought to the church for instruction. Separated by gender, the girls sat in the western balcony, the boys opposite. How can we know for sure? The wood of the western pews is pristine, while those on the east are marked with carved initials and names. Come to your own conclusion.

So why was the church abandoned so early in its history? The growing city's population shifted eastward in the early 19th century, and Presbyterians understandably wanted to worship closer to home. They built a new church on the east side of town and left Old Broad Street. As will happen over time, the congregation has seen splits and mergers over its 230 plus year history, but they haven't forgotten their roots. Family plots in Old Broad Street's sizeable churchyard still take in new burials, adding to more than 10,000 graves that include resting spots of several members of Congress, New Jersey Governor Elias Seeley and a good number of veterans of the American Revolution and the Civil War.

The living are welcome, too, just a little less often. The doors of Old Broad Street open for worship during August and a special service on Thanksgiving Day. And if you're lucky, as we were, you'll happen by when they're having an open house. Between the truly striking architecture and the welcoming spirit of the church's friends and congregants, you'll be glad you stopped by.

Pitman Grove: getting that old time religion

You wouldn't know it from its sedate downtown today, but Pitman was once such a popular summer destination that more than a dozen trains a day would bring visitors to enjoy the town's offerings. I discovered the primary reason for that on my recent Gloucester County jaunt, one day before the much-vaunted December 12, 2012. As it turned out, the number 12 was significant to my visit.

You'll find the community of Pitman Grove just off Broadway, marked by a simple metal arch. Stroll down the walkway and you'll find yourself on First Avenue, one of the twelve sidewalks that radiates from the community's literal and spiritual hub, a trellised open-air church, or tabernacle. Each of these streets is meant to represent one of Jesus' disciples. On either side of each narrow pathway are tiny houses on 30x40 foot lots, many decked in Victorian gingerbread and happy pastel shades.

By now you're probably sensing a religious theme, and you're spot on. Pitman Grove is a relic of the Camp Meeting movement that took hold in America following the Civil War. Protestants - in this case, Methodists - would unite in tent settlements for a few weeks in the summer to attend religious services and share fellowship in a rustic setting. Here in New Jersey, the most famous example is the still-in-operation Ocean Grove, though retreats were also established in National Park and other then-idyllic spots.

A small group of ministers established this particular camp meeting in what was then Mantua, both for its peaceful rural location and convenient rail access. They named the community in honor of Reverend Charles Pitman, a prominent preacher of the time, and the name recognition probably didn't hurt attendance. More than 10,000 people were drawn to the grove for services, prompting the camp meeting association to purchase 70 acres of land and sell or rent small lots where the faithful could pitch their tents.

Community members eventually started to build summer cottages on their lots, and a town grew up around them, with a store, restaurants, a barber, ice cream parlor and more. Pitman incorporated as a borough in 1905, and consistent with residents' religious values, the purchase of alcohol was forbidden in town. According to the borough website, "Pitman was known as a place with no mosquitoes, no malaria and no saloons. To this day, Pitman is a dry town with no liquor stores and no liquor licenses issued. We do, however, have our fair share of mosquitoes!" Some problems just can't be eliminated by statute.

Like many other communities of its type, Pitman Grove eventually came on hard times, prompting the borough to take on about 50 of the properties in the 1970s when the Camp Association couldn't pay the taxes. Many of the homes weren't built for year round use, and some of the more decrepit ones were demolished while others were improved and rented out or auctioned off. The town also invested in upgraded infrastructure, clearly seeing the value in keeping the community viable. On my stroll, I noticed a sign on one house that announced it had been winterized, its utilities shut off maybe until next summer, so I suspect a few of the properties are still seasonal homes.

I don't know if Grove residents are still predominantly worshipers, but I noticed several "Keep Christ in Christmas" signs in front of a few of the cottages. Services are still held at the restored tabernacle during the summer, so I guess the Grove is still a desirable location for the faithful, at least in the summer.

Williamsburg on the Delaware? Visiting colonial Burlington

As much as I'm a New Jersey booster, it's rare that I get really blown away on one of our visits.

My visit to Burlington blew me away. I knew there was history there, but I didn't realize I'd get bombarded by it as soon as I turned off of Route 130 and onto High Street. The vast majority of buildings I saw were well over 100 years old, some even 200 and older. I mean, even the PSE&G customer service office gets into the act, housed in an old colonial-era building and labeled with a hand-painted sign. (No logo there!)

That first impression was confirmed repeatedly as I walked around town. How in heck Burlington doesn't get more notice as a true historical gem, I'll never understand. Consider that it is or has been:

West Jersey Surveyor General's office (similar to the one
for East Jersey in Perth Amboy)

• The Provincial Capital of West Jersey 
• The birthplace of a noted American writer, a hero of the War of 1812 and an early governor of the state
• Site of the oldest home in Burlington County and among the oldest in the state.
• Home of of the state's oldest library and oldest continually-operated pharmacy (not in the same building, of course)

In short, it's a New Jersey blogger's dream!

Captain James Lawrence's birthplace on High Street.

I first stopped by the Historical Society on High Street for a little guidance. This modern building is in the yard behind James Fenimore Cooper's house and the birthplace of Captain James Lawrence of "Don't give up the ship!" fame. A researcher there provided me with a small map and told me that regrettably, no tours were available. I'd brought my handy WPA Guide to New Jersey, which would be of some help, but I wish I'd checked the very informative City of Burlington Historic District website before I left the house. (If you're planning a visit, stop there first!)

One of the many vintage buildings
in E. Broad Street's commercial area.

Burlington comes by its vintage legitimately. Founded in 1677, it boasts the site of the first European settlement in New Jersey, populated by French Walloons on Burlington Island in 1624. The land passed to the English in 1664, ushering in the Quakers who developed this Delaware River community into a major port. Unfortunately the city's shipping industry was eventually overtaken by Philadelphia's, but the prosperity it brought is clearly evident in the 18th and 19th century architecture.

Besides the sheer volume of historical places still existing there, and the number of notables who called Burlington home at one time or another, there's the architecture. A portion of the historic area is on the National Register of Historic Places, but it's worth taking a stroll around to see the rest. You'll want to see the homes of notable past residents, but many built by the less famous also have plaques stating their ages and previous owners.

What struck me was how authentic it all felt -- because it is. Many homeowners have lovingly restored or preserved their property, but there's still a feeling of weathered experience in the buildings, kind of like an older person who's concerned about his health but not afraid to show some wrinkles and gray hair. If it weren't for the cars parked along the street, you could find yourself transported back 150 years or more.

Visiting Princeton in Elizabeth

If you happen to get called for jury duty in Union County, be sure to check out Princeton University while you're there. You'll be walking in the footsteps of some of our most notable early Americans.

No, they haven't moved the county courthouse. It's still in Elizabeth, the county seat. The very seeds of one of America's nine colonial colleges were originally planted there, beside the First Presbyterian Church on what's now Broad Street. A marker commemorating the spot is planted squarely on the outside wall of the parish house, site of the original school building.

Colleges at the time were vastly different than they are today; the students were younger and primarily studied for the ministry. Jonathan Dickenson, the pastor at First Presbyterian, helped establish the College of New Jersey in October 1746 as an alternative to the less enlightened religious philosophy being taught at Yale. With his death the following year, the presidency of the school shifted to the Reverend Aaron Burr, father of the more famous man with the same name. He moved the school to Newark and eventually to Princeton, whose remote location he felt would provide little distraction from his students' scholarship.

Though The College of New Jersey had a brief stay in Elizabeth, the town's educational heritage had a major impact on American independence. The Parish House I mentioned earlier was built on the site of Elizabethtown Academy, which educated Revolutionary-era notables including Alexander Hamilton and his future nemesis, the younger Aaron Burr.

Hamilton made quite an impression on attorney and future New Jersey Governor William Livingston, who invited the student to live at Liberty Hall just a few miles away. The contacts the future Treasury Secretary made through Livingston were the foundation for his future accomplishments. He even established his reputation as a ladies man by wooing one of the venerable three graces, the beautiful and coquettish Catharine Livingston.

The Academy didn't survive the war, as many students joined Hamilton and some of the faculty in joining the Continental Army. The building itself, converted to a storehouse, was burned by the British in 1780.

Oh, the humanity! Wandering around Lakehurst.

First it was the railroad hub for the Pinelands.

Then it became a popular resort.

Then it was the site of the nation's first international airport and the place where the growth of the passenger airship industry came to a fiery halt.

And now its population has soared, thanks to the host of retirement communities built there over the past 30 years.

Yup, I'm talking about Lakehurst, Ocean County. On one of our rare non-bird-related jaunts, Ivan and I made our way down the Parkway to Route 70, drawn by the lure of another type of flying object. We hadn't registered in advance for a tour at the Naval Air Engineering Station, but I was confident we'd uncover something worthwhile. Any small town that gained international notoriety for a disaster had to have plenty of interesting stuff. Plus, it's in the Pinelands, where the unusual is commonplace for explorers.

Leaving the highway and heading to the compact downtown, we saw that the locals take pride in their connection to the history of the airship. Whether you call them blimps or dirigibles or something else, they're represented in a lot of signage and outdoor artwork around town. Awnings on borough hall proclaim Lakehurst to be the Airship Capital of the World (take that, Friedrichshafen!), and even the local laundromat sports a large painting of a Buddhist-themed airship. Om, the humanity?

That's the south side of the highway. The Naval Air Engineering Station is down a road to the north, obscured by the region's signature pines. Signs warn passers-by about security measures and low-flying aircraft, reminding us that even though it's a historic landmark, the airfield is still an active military base. It's difficult to get a clean photo of the massive airship hangar from the road or a nearby housing development, though the building towers above the scrub pines in the foreground. Disappointing, yes, but we had other destinations to check out.

First, however, it was time for lunch. Regular readers know that I'm a diner burger aficionado, and it was time to see where the local contender stood in the pantheon. We'd passed the Lakehurst Diner on the way in, and we had to know: do they have a Hindenburger Deluxe on the menu? Sadly, management had seemingly overlooked this golden opportunity for a local special (well-done cheeseburger with sauerkraut, anyone?), though they offered a "Blimp" steak sandwich. I guess you have to take what you can get.

Following a tasty cheeseburger meal, we returned to the other side of the highway for the highlight of our visit, the Lakehurst Historical Society in tiny Old St. John's Church. It's the only town museum I know that's surrounded by a graveyard, having served as the community's Catholic sanctuary until the congregation outgrew it. Starting in the 1980s, an influx of retirees from Northern New Jersey started coming to the worship regularly, forcing the parish to move first to a community center and then to a newly-constructed church not far away.

Outside, the museum/church is a tidy, picturesque white wooden chapel. Inside, it's an interesting panoply of historic artifacts, juxtaposed with classic Catholic symbols. The Stations of the Cross are still on the walls, hanging above old railroad tools and World War II-era ration stamp books, and there's a painting of Jesus looking over a collection of vintage clothing. The community's first jail cell stands in a corner not far from the entrance to the sanctuary. That would make a novel confessional, don't you think?

We expected to see a few Hindenberg artifacts and maybe something or other on the Jersey Devil, but it turns out that Lakehurst has other notable yet lesser-known claims to distinction. An entire display case is dedicated to the Pine Tree Inn, an expansive Victorian resort that operated from 1898 to 1937. Well-to-do visitors from New York and Philadelphia flocked there from 1898 to 1937 to escape the city and enjoy the quiet beauty of the Pinelands. For much of the hotel's last decade of operation, many of its guests probably got to Lakehurst via the Blue Comet, the Jersey Central Railroad's answer to the Twentieth Century Limited (more on that in an upcoming post). The Historical Society has plenty of information and objects to tell the story of both, and more!

From the earliest days of the area's bog iron and charcoal industries that supplied the Continental Army during the Revolutionary War, to present day, if you're curious about something in Lakehurst, somebody at the Historical Society can probably tell you about it. Just be sure to stop by on Wednesday or Sunday afternoons, when they're open.

Now, to get that airship hangar tour set up....