Hamburg's castle made of wheat: the milling history on Wheatsworth Road

Most Northern New Jersey explorers know about the Gingerbread Castle in Hamburg. Some even remember visiting the whimsical structure during its heyday as the centerpiece of an amusement park between 1930 and 1978. It's one of those places that tends to stick in your mind -- a fanciful fairy-tale castle replete with characters like Humpty-Dumpty and arch-backed black cat, among others.

The Wheatsworth factory, as seen from a HiddenNJMobile.

In near total contradiction to the whimsy of the castle, a large, forbidding concrete building casts a shadow over the abandoned property. A few small turrets and balcony-like structures break up the monotony of the facade, but it's not a pleasant looking place. The windows that aren't boarded up are mostly broken, evidence of a lengthy abandonment. A posted sign informs visitors that an environmental cleanup is in process, not surprising after you notice the traces of painted lettering atop the building which seem to spell the word "synthetic."

Why in heck would someone put something so ugly next to something so adorable ... or was it the other way around? Unfortunately, New Jersey has more than its share of juxtaposition of beauty and industry, but why, when there's so much room in Sussex County, would these two be so close?

A first clue can be found on the old stone gateposts nearby. They're adorned with Arts and Crafts-style Flint Faience tiles depicting idyllic scenes of fields and mills. One even features a steaming bowl of hot cereal, a comforting start for a chilly Sussex County morning, and a millstone is embedded in a nearby wall. Each scene is labeled "Wheatsworth Mills."

Wheatsworth? Like Nabisco Wheatsworth crackers? Absolutely.

Turns out that the Gingerbread Castle's less-than-attractive industrial neighbor was just the last of the wheat-related ventures operated on that spot in Hamburg.

Today, the Wallkill River flows unimpeded past the building and under Wheatsworth Road, but in the day it was harnessed to power a waterwheel for the industry of the day. Joseph Sharp, Jr. built a stone grist mill there in 1808, replacing an ironworks that had made cannonballs surreptitiously for the British during the Revolutionary War. Sharp's mill, by contrast, ground local wheat into flour for American troops during the War of 1812 and no doubt benefited from its location just off the Hamburg Turnpike (now Route 23) after it opened in 1795. That mill was lost to fire in 1834 but was partially rebuilt.

Moving forward to the 20th century, New York-based F.H. Bennett Biscuit Company purchased the site in 1921 to supply flour for its bakeries across the Hudson. Six years later, the company changed its name to Wheatsworth to capitalize on the popularity of the brand name under which it sold biscuits, flour and other bakery goods. Around the same time, the company substantially enlarged the mill building, erecting a taller concrete structure that basically swallowed up the old Sharp mill.

An old sign with a valuable message.

As the story is told, F.H. himself was inspired to add the Gingerbread Castle to the factory campus after seeing a production of Hansel and Gretel at New York's Metropolitan Opera. He hired the opera's set designer, Austrian architect Joseph Urban, to create what became the centerpiece of a children's amusement park where Grimm's fairy tales came to life. Reflecting Bennett's business, the castle appeared to be constructed of cookies and crackers, and after its opening in 1930, visiting children were told that if they touched the building, the appealing treats would turn to stone. 

The National Biscuit Company (Nabisco) purchased Wheatsworth in 1931, taking ownership of the factory/mill building but not the castle. After operating there for six years, Nabisco sold the plant to Canterbury Mills, the last operator to use the building for baking-related purposes. The final owner, a wire coatings manufacturer called Plastoid Corporation, took possession in 1943. While they eventually moved production to another location, Plastoid's corporate offices remained in the building until sometime in the 1980s.

Together, the mill building and Gingerbread Castle were listed on Preservation New Jersey's Most Endangered Historic Places list in 2012. Not surprisingly, the castle attracts the greatest interest and has benefitted from partial restoration and a brief reopening in 1989. The far less photogenic mill/factory building seems ignored by all but adventure seekers despite its arguably more historic past. Reportedly suffering from a collapsed roof and internal deterioration, it would no doubt take a lot of effort to make it habitable again, but who knows? And with the Gingerbread Castle and Wallkill River on either side, the view from any of the factory's windows would be a welcome site for anyone who chose to work or live there.

It's a thought...

Journey to the center of the EARTH

That headline isn't a typo. Yes, we found ourselves journeying to the EARTH Center. Who'd think it would be in North Brunswick?

Okay, okay... I'm playing around a little bit, but when Ivan and I saw a small brown sign pointing us to the EARTH Center off Route 130, we had to check it out. Neither of us had heard of it before, and, well, it was a brown sign, which designates a park. We'd had a largely unsuccessful morning of birding, so maybe scouting a new location would perk us up a bit.

Access to Davidson's Mill Pond

The Brunswicks can offer some interesting surprises. While easy access to the Turnpike and Routes 1, 18 and 130 has fostered a great deal of development, pockets of bucolic scenery and farmland are still scattered about the remaining open space. Our trip to EARTH brought us past a few houses on winding Riva Avenue, but we soon found ourselves at the scenic Davidson's Mill Pond Park.

The park itself has a couple of lovely ponds and the stone remnants of the foundation of its eponymous mill. It's a nice place to walk your dog, have a picnic or just sit and meditate on a nice day. We, however, were more driven to find out what all of this EARTH stuff is about. The answer, as we saw from a directional sign, was past a wooden gate and down a paved drive, so we parked by the Mill Pond boat launch and started our stroll.

Almost to the EARTH Center!

EARTH, as it turns out, is an acronym for Environment Agriculture Research Teaching Health, and the center is part of the Rutgers Cooperative Extension. As you might now, each county has an Extension of the larger New Jersey Agricultural Experiment Station. Basically, it's the public outreach arm that Rutgers operates to fulfill its obligation as the state's land grant university. Each Extension offers an array of classes and educational services on topics like gardening, home economics, nutrition, horticulture and the like. They're a good resource if you can't figure out why your tomato plants aren't producing, if you find an invasive species in your yard that defies identification, or if you're looking for an environmentally sound solution for a stink bug infestation in your house.

These tall grasses looked like a great buffet
for seed-eating birds! 

We seemed to be the only birders at EARTH. While we were getting a lay of the land, a few people came by, walking their dogs or checking out the short trails meandering through the woods, but no one had binoculars. We were also the only people who showed any curiosity about the solar installation, cultivated rain and butterfly gardens, and the small building that looked like a kids' clubhouse.

Ivan was on the lookout for sparrows, so he was drawn, magnet-like, to the large acreage of grasses beyond. About five feet high and gone to seed, the grasses were sectioned off with flexible fencing and labeled in a way that seemed to denote the nutrients they'd been given. Some got commercial fertilizer, while others got compost or manure, or nothing at all. It looked like a good experiment to teach kids about cultivation techniques.

We weren't seeing many birds, but then it was midday and they were probably laying low for the next several hours. Just as we were reluctantly agreeing that our time there was only a reconnaissance mission for future visits, sparrows started to emerge. One would pop up, fly 30 feet or so and duck back down into the growth. Occasionally one would perch on the fencing for a minute or two before going back into hiding, but for the most part, we had to try to identify them on the wing.

Another view of EARTH

We had more luck near an open-air structure several feet away. A host of savannah sparrows and phoebes bopped around in the open, allowing us to get a good look for a few minutes before they went back into hiding or flew away.

Noting a stand of pine trees in the distance, Ivan went to check for signs of owls while I found a bench and quietly took in the surroundings. How is it that we'd never heard of this place? It looks to be great habitat for grassland birds, and raptors should also be around, drawn by seed-eating rodents. Some other birder had to have found it before us, yet it hasn't shown up on any lists or bulletin boards.

Was it our own little discovery? Right now, it seems to be. Regardless, we'll be returning to EARTH sometime soon. It's inevitable.

Milling around in Stillwater, generally speaking

Our visit to White Lake built up a thirst, so we found ourselves wandering in search of liquid refreshment. We found it at the general store in Stillwater.

Stillwater General Store always
seems to have someone parked
directly in front of it. 

If you've done any wandering through the less built-up areas of the state, you've probably run into a historic general store building or two. I say 'historic' because many of them don't serve the 'general' purpose anymore. Instead of selling various groceries and housing the community post office, they've been converted into gourmet sandwich shops or coffee houses. There's nothing patently wrong with that -- repurposing buildings is often the best way to preserve them -- but they lack a certain authenticity. They often sell fair-trade coffee by the pound instead of penny nails, and if you need toilet paper or soap you'd better be prepared to drive a distance to a big-box store.

The minute we pulled up to the Stillwater General Store, it was clear which category it falls into. An out-of-service Texaco Fire Chief gas pump stood in front of the porch, paired with one of those vintage advertising signs. Both came by their weathered appearance honestly, as did the screen door that had clearly welcomed generations of local residents. Once inside, we passed a wall of post office boxes on the way to the beverage cooler. To be honest, I was so focused on getting something to drink that I didn't study the groceries on the shelves, but it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that they probably focus on the bare necessities someone might need when a trip to a distant supermarket was out of the question. Oh, and when we made our purchase, the proprietor said something about pie. I'm still regretting passing that up. I mean, Sussex County pie must be really good.

Our thirst issue resolved, we noticed that the general store wasn't the only interesting building in town. A short walk brought us to the home of Casper Shafer, the German immigrant who'd settled the area in the early 1740s. While the Vass family was growing grain in Hardwick, Shafer ran a successful grist mill that was paired with a sawmill just before the Revolution. In addition to counting on the nearby Paulins Kill to power his mills, he used the waterway as means to get his product to the Delaware and eventually to customers as far away as Philadelphia.

The Stillwater Mill, looking a lot like one of those
cute figurines people collect. 

Shafer's wooden mill was destroyed by a fire in 1844, but its replacement still stands nearby, looking as if it could be transplanted to an old village in the Alps. In fact, it looks a little too good, as if it shut down just a few years ago. Actually, in the continuum of milling in New Jersey, that's the case. Its continuous operation ended in 1954, but new owners reopened it in the early 1970s, running it as a milling business during the week and an educational establishment on the weekends.

It's not clear when the Stillwater shut down for good, but when it did, it was the last of New Jersey's operating grist mills. The industry had fallen victim to development, as more grain farms were sold and converted to residential communities.

Somehow, Stillwater seems to have avoided overdevelopment, or at least the area around Main Street has. On our Sunday visit it was quiet, except for the steady flow of visitors to the general store. There were an assortment of other buildings we didn't check out... the church on the hill and the historical society, to name two. Maybe another time, when we'll be sure to stop for the pie.