Milling around in Ralston

Rambling around the state, I'm always fascinated by places that aren't there anymore. Well, it's not like you're driving into a black hole -- the places are THERE but have been swallowed up by a larger town.

Such is the case with Ralston, now part of Mendham, but once a community on its own. The locals have kept the name as a historic district, now restricted to a few Colonial-era buildings. I went there because I'd heard it was the site of New Jersey's oldest post office. According to The WPA Guide to 1930s New Jersey, the building had served that purpose since 1792, in addition to serving as the community general store.

The drive out from Morristown is an enjoyable one -- you take County Road 510, which doubles as the old State Route 24. Believe the maps on that one if you choose; I didn't see a single Route 24 sign the whole way. You'll pass through some residential areas before you start running into a few farms. I was a little disappointed that a new housing development now covers the hill the WPA guide said had been topped with a large wooden horse.

Don't travel too quickly, because it's easy to miss the general store/post office at the corner of Roxiticus Road. The slight dark brown building does have a large "GENERAL STORE" sign, but it's basically hidden under the roof overhang. You might see the historical society sign hanging near the curb, telling us the place is open on Sundays during the summer and fall. That's right -- it's no longer an operating store, nor is it a post office, having lost that designation in 1941. In its final years, the post office was down to fourth class status, meaning that residents had to stop by to pick up their mail, even though the Mendham mail route ran right along Route 24.

Originally known by the native name of Roxiticus, Ralston was an active little place. Settled near the north branch of the Raritan River, it was a perfect location for a mill, and several were built within the community. One of the mills, owned by John Logan, even supplied flour to the Continental troops at Jockey Hollow during the difficult winters of 1779 and 1780. That very patriotic gesture ended up forcing Logan into bankruptcy like many other war suppliers when the Continental Congress didn't pay him for the goods.

While he lost the mill, it wasn't lost to the family. Logan's daughter had married wealthy Philadelphia merchant John Ralston, who bought the mill and the adjoining manor house from his father-in-law in 1785. True to the profession that had brought him success, Ralston built and opened the community's general store. Money was generally tight in the young United States, so he bartered with other merchants in New York and Georgia to get goods, creating markets for his community's products, as well. As his wealth and influence grew, the businesses and farms around him prospered, too, and the area was eventually renamed Ralston.

The mills have long since closed, and there are just a few small farms scattered about, but Ralston is a nice place to see authentic Colonial architecture. Mentally erase the modern street signs, electrical hookups and pavement, and it's not hard to imagine what the place looked like back in Ralston's day.

Stamps, express mail and works of art

How often do you find yourself going to the post office lately? If you're like me, it's a fairly rare occurrence, especially now that I do most of my correspondence and bill paying electronically. Mostly, I'm there to ship something I sold on eBay, or maybe I'm sending hard-copy writing samples via express mail.

I have to admit that when I have time to spare, I rather enjoy going to the post office in my small town. It's old-timey and maintains that feeling of permanence you want in a government building, which so many newer buildings lack. Take a look at the higher reaches inside the lobby area of an older post office, and chances are you'll see some vintage murals. Depending on the location, you might see colonial history, idyllic local scenery, or maybe heroic representations of New Jersey industry.

These murals were the product of a convergence of economic hardship, government stimulus and artistic trends in the 1930s. Art - and artists - tend to suffer in poor economies, and the Great Depression was no exception. Among the 'alphabet soup' bureaus created under the Roosevelt Administration were the Federal Art Project, Public Works of Art Project and the Treasury Department Section of Painting and Sculpture, all designed to provide work opportunities to artists while improving public buildings. Murals were particularly popular, as the Italian Renaissance fresco style had come to the fore during the Roaring 20s. Most showed more traditional styles, idealizing American values in the communities where they were housed. They didn't just put the unemployed to work, they help to tell the stories of our past and expose us to fine art at the same time. Nationally, more than 5000 jobs were created through the art programs. In New Jersey alone, nearly 50 post offices were graced with their work.

I do wonder about the veracity of some of the scenes, though. The recently-restored mural at the Cranford Post Office, for example, is purported to depict the Battle of Cranford, a skirmish I've yet to hear of. Yes, troops were cantoned along the Rahway River in the town, but it's not likely they actually fought on town soil. I'm sure the mural has built community pride in our colonial forebears, perhaps it's at the price of accuracy.

These days, the murals have likely lost their meaning for many people who see them, but they're worth a look. When they were first installed, they showed a vision of the best of a prosperous and hopeful America. Today, they show the optimism of a people in the depths of economic despair, a people who would enjoy a level of prosperity within a generation.