Passaic County Jail

The first half of the ninteenth century was quite an interesting time for New Jersey. Boundry lines were being redrawn, as townships and counties were being carved out of established ones. In 1837 two new counties were establisted on opposite ends of the state, Atlantic County and Passaic County. This article is focusing on the latter, and more specifically their jail building. 

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Construction began for the original Passaic County Jail in 1837, the same year as the original Essex County Jail which still stands in Newark. The basic design included a single cell block as well as a house for the warden. The original building was enlarged in 1854 to accommodate more criminals as the county experienced rapid population growth. 

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In 1937 the buildings were thoroughly documented by a photographer named R. Merrit Lacey. Other citizens measured out and redrew the building's floor plans as Lacey took his pictures. These efforts were submitted to the Historic American Buildings Survey, and are hosted online in high resolution by the Library of Congress. 

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Unfortunately, despite being so thoughtfully documented just two decades prior, the building was entirely demolished and a new jail was built on the site in 1957. The new building was a simple mid century design without much detail or embellishment. It was designed to hold 230 prisoners at maximum capacity. 

It wasn't long before the brand new building was already facing an overcrowding issue. Neighboring Essex County had given up on expanding their Newark Jail nearly 100 years prior. Instead, they developed a huge jail annex complex on land they owned far outside the city, where they could spread out as far as they pleased. Instead of taking that tact, Passaic County just continued to pack bodies in wherever they could inside the Marshall Street building. 

When the jail ran out of cramped cells to fill, beds were packed into the common areas. At times, the building was holding upwards of 1500 people inside its walls, more than six times the population it was designed for.

According to the Star Ledger, the state Office of Inmate Advocacy examined every county jail in New Jersey in 1977. The Passaic County Jail was deemed to be the worst in the state. Not only was it severely overcrowded, it was also overrun with rodents and bugs. Sheriff Edwin J. Englehardt was in charge of managing the jail at the time. Instead of doing some honest self reflection and brainstorming ways to improve the facility like a decent person, Englehardt hung a banner outside the building that said "Welcome to the Passaic Country Jail. This is not a country club. All rules will be followed." As far as my research indicates, there was no effort made to remedy the inhumane conditions. 

A new addition was built in the mid 1980s at the corner of Grand and Marshall. This allowed space inside the cell blocks to be further retrofitted to accommodate more bodies. The recreation facilities were moved into cages that were built on the roof. 

In 1987 the county sought to establish a detention center specifically for youth offenders outside the confines of the Marshall Ave site. They decided to retrofit in a vacant nurses building at the old Valley View Sanitorium which straddled the Wayne/Haledon border. 

Unfortunately the jail was still severely overcrowded. To make things worse, the facility was still making headlines for being filthy and overrun with pests. Officials mulled replacing the rapidly aging building, but the talks never led anywhere. 

Instead in 2001 the new leader of the jail, Jerry Speziale, began taking inmates from other counties as a way to pad the budget. Speziale took over from Englehardt, who fled his position amid investigations into corruption within the county. 

Passaic County continued to subject the inmates at their jail to these same inhumane conditions for decades. It wasn't until 2017 when New Jersey finally answered the cries of activists and passed common sense bail reform. For those unfamiliar, one of the major differences between a "jail" and a "prison" is that the latter is where you go after you've been sentenced, typically for stints longer than 30 days. Jail is where you end up after you've been accused of a crime, but before the "speedy" trial you're entitled to. If you have enough cash or property to give to the County as an incentive to ensure you'll show up at further court dates, you can be released. Your guilt or innocence isn't taken into account, because that hasn't been determined by a judge yet. 

That system is obviously flawed, as a guilty person with money gets to go home while an innocent poor person has to stay locked up. Thankfully we don't do that anymore here. Someone's bail status in New Jersey now depends on an assessment of their likelihood to be violent or to reoffend. The system isn't perfect, as opponents say it still leaves open the possibility for unchecked racial bias. Most advocates agree though, it's certainly a step in the right direction.

Five years after the bail reform laws passed in the state, the county worked out an agreement to allow their prisoners to be sent to the sprawling Bergen County Jail in nearby Hackensack. This move allowed Passaic County to finally move to close their Marshall Street Jail. 

The county sheriffs office continued to operate out of their offices within the compound, but by 2024 the jail building was officially closed. It was immediately announced that the building would be demolished and a new county government building would take its place. Before any work was done, the building was used for the filming of the movie"Motor City". Machines moved in shortly after filming wrapped up. 

Crews started by ripping into the walls of the main cellblock, which stretched between Marshall and Main. The plan was essentially to work from the courtyard outwards, allowing the crew to work uninterrupted without affecting traffic around the building. It wasn't long before the iconic, notorious structure was entirely reduced to rubble. I won't be shedding any tears for this compound. Hopefully whatever comes next is much more beneficial than this old eyesore.

Joseph Battin High School

New Jersey is known for having some of the best schools in the country. Unfortunately we also have students learning in some of the oldest facilites in the United States. This is especially true in the northern portion of the state, with some structures dating back to the 1880's still in use today. Unlike many other public buildings which have been perpetually maintained and renovated throughout that time, our schools have largely suffered from deferred maintenence and slim budgets. One example of this was the Joseph Battin High School.

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The school opened in 1889 in an old mansion on South Street. The building was donated by Joseph Battin, who had been the president of the Elizabethtown Water Company.

TFPNJ Postcard Archive

It wasn't long before the school outgrew the mansion. Designs were solicited for a new building in the early 1910s. A special building committee was assembled, including Richard E. Clement, the superintendent of schools for Elizabeth. The group decided the most efficient school design for the plot on South Street would be a "rectangular" plan building. The plan called for interior corridors, with classrooms being built with large windows along the outside of the building. 

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The group selected Charles Godfrey Poggi to design the building. Poggi was a rising star in Elizabeth, having designed several churches and other public buildings around the city.  

Poggi studied other local schools for inspiration on how to best appoint the building. He close a tasteful buff colored brick with Indiana limestone trim. The pediment over the front doors featured several hand carved statues flanking the seal of the City of Elizabeth.

The main architectural highlight of the building was the central auditorium. It featured a large coffered ceiling with several skylights, twenty foot windows, and a balcony with seating for several hundred students. Extra plaster ornament was shoehorned inside every crevice and bare space to create an overwhelming sense of grandeur. The auditorium was a work of art. 

In 1929 the brand new Thomas Jefferson High School opened just a few blocks away on Elizabeth Avenue. Unfortunately the board of education couldn't come up with efficient districts by which to fill the schools. Since Jefferson had better "athletic and shop facilities", it was determined the boys would go there, and the girls could have Battin. 

One of the most noteworthy events in the facility's history came in 1952. A small plane failed to land properly at Newark Airport and crashed directly across the street from the building, narrowly missing the school itself. A number of homes at the corner of South and William Street were destroyed by the wreck. A young girl who attended the school at the time went on to have a sucessful writing career, even writing a book about the crash itself. Her name is Judy Blume, and the novel is titled In the Unlikely Event.

A large gymnasium addition was attached to the rear of the building in the 1960s, on land which one held houses. The new Elizabeth High opened in 1977, which closed both Battin and Jefferson. They did both eventually reopen as schools, but the story wasn't over there. 

Battin school was abruptly closed due to poor building conditions in 2022. An inspection had revealed portions of the roof were beginning to show signs of failure. Around the same time, the School Development Authority announced billions of dollars of planned upgrades to the states aging school buildings. Battin was quickly approved to join the list of facility replacements. 

When I first visited the building, I was suprised by how much the auditorium resembled those by my favorite school architects, the Guilbert & Betelle firm of Newark. It wasn't until later that I had uncovered an article which alluded to C. Godfrey Poggi visiting other local schools for inspiration on Battin. He certainly would have visited some of the amazing schools around Essex County, meaning my suspicions about the G & B influence were essentially confirmed. 

Unfortunately demolition work commenced swiftly on Battin. Thankfully the crew started with the more modern rear, allowing me to make a few visits to the school before it was demolished entirely by September 2024. The school was just one of dozens set to be rebuilt by the NJ School Development Authority over the next few years. Stay tuned for more stories. 

Mount Pleasant Mansion

The "Mount Pleasant" Mansion was Built in 1993, on a nearly 6 acre parcel of undeveloped woodland.

The home was built in a modern minimalist style, with a large open atrium flanked by two wings. A butterfly staircase led to the bedrooms on the upper floors. The kitchen and dining areas were just beyond the staircase. 

A large indoor pool and hot tub took up the entire right wing of the house. It was a surprise for me considering how reserved and empty the rest of the interior was.

The home was sold for just one dollar in 2017, then again in 2022 for $2.75 million. As far as I can tell, this is the last time anyone lived inside the building. 

I found the building one day while making deliveries in the area for work. I marked it down on my map, as it was too late in the day for me to risk the long walk down the driveway. 

The next morning I pulled up to the mansion with the intention of scoping it out. The tennis court out back was overgrown, and provided ample cover as I worked my way closer to the home. The closer I got, the more I could see how deteriorated the stucco exterior was. Carefully I made my way towards the back of the building. 

I looked inside a couple doors and windows to confirm that nobody was living inside anymore. One of the back doors was missing a handle, and opened right up when I pushed on it. The door led into the pool room, which still smelled strongly of chlorine. Carefully I worked my way to the main atrium. It wasn't until I realized that power had been cut to the building that I was finally able to relax a bit. 

I didn't spend terribly long inside, intending to return with my camera. Unfortunately before I could get back the building was completely demolished. A house and church next door were also taken down before I could visit, leaving a massive bare patch along what was once a quiet block. 

Even though I'm bummed I wasn't able to shoot it properly I'm still glad I was able to see the building at all. I'm not sure what plans the future has for the property, but whatever it is Hopefully it will be more productive than a single home. 

Dominican Nuns of the Perpetual Rosary Monastery

The monastery of the Dominican Nuns of the Perpetual Rosary opened in 1900. At the time, the sisters were worshipping in a pair of old houses along Haddon Avenue. It wasn't until the late 1920s that a large construction project was undertaken to create a proper worship space for the sisters. 

A large, beautiful double chapel was constructed between the houses. Dormitory space was built around an inner courtyard, a design which drew influence from European monasteries. A matching stone wall with heavy iron gates surrounded the complex. The large new building was open for worship by 1927.

At its peak as many as thirty nuns lived at the monastery, each taking turns performing a perpetual Rosary prayer. Life within the walls remained relatively unchanged until 1947, when construction began on the adjacent Lourdes Hospital.

The medical center dwarfed the old monastery, standing tall over the Parkside neighborhood of the city. The sleek new art deco hospital was run by the Catholics, making them great neighbors for the monastery.

After a century of perpetual worship but dwindling occupancy, the building was vacated in 2013. At this  point only a few sisters remained at the Camden location. Once the complex was shuttered they moved up to the Monastery of Mary the Queen in Elmira, NY.

The deceased sisters who were interred on the property were moved to Calvalry cemetery in neighboring Cherry Hill. A St. Michael statue created by DaPrato Studios was given to the St. Michael's school in Clayton. 

Lourdes Hospital purchased the empty monastery the following year. This was the first time I was ever made aware of the building. During a visit to a patient at the hospital, I overheard a discussion about how the sisters had left the building and nobody knew what was going to happen with it next. 

In 2017 a large parking lot was built around the monastery. The hospital still insisted they had "no plans" for the old place of worship. The structure had already been suffering for years of deferred maintenance before the nuns even left. I continued to watch the deterioration progress, just waiting for the right moment to make my move.

Lourdes continued using the monastery for storage and for parking security vehicles. Every time I visited Camden I'd drive by to see what was going on with the building. Occasionally I'd see the front gates open, which was my invitation to sneak around inside the complex. Still, I wasn't able to make it inside the well secured structure. 

Lourdes hospital was purchased by Virtua Health Network in 2019. The sale included the monastery, which was now firmly tied into the medical campus. At this point the building had been vacant for half a decade, which signaled to me that the hospital network had no intention of reusing the structure. 

The building languished for another five years before Virtua announced they were planning to demolish the monastery. I assumed I'd have a little bit of time with it until a friend of mine told me equipment was on site and the buildings days were numbered. I already had plans that weekend, so I was panicking. I wasn't sure if I would be able to get down to Camden before demolition started. 

I decided the only chance I had was to sit through the awful traffic after my full work day to get from Essex to Camden. The whole ride down I had butterflies in my stomach, wondering how badly the demolition prep had affected the building. 

I arrived with about an hour and a half left of daylight, meaning I had about 90 minutes to get inside and get my photos. A shift change at the hospital combined with a vigilant security gaurd in the parking lot left me with very few options for approach. I did see that there was one unlocked gate I could access if I timed it right. 

A few cars passed by, but nobody was paying me any mind as I walked into the lot. As I approached the gate my eyes were shooting back and forth trying to get eyes on the gaurd. I couldn't see them, but I was at the gate now. It was now or never in the most literal sense. Just as I was making my way past the gate, security came right around the corner right in front of me. I muttered an explative to myself and turned back towards the driveway, as security drove behind me to ensure I left. 

From across the street I watched until the gaurd went back to his spot in the parking lot. The open gate was now out of play; my options were now extremely limited. The only other way I could figure involved a very visible climb over the front gate. Even that was an imperfect approach, as I wasn't sure there would be a way inside from there. Just as I was working out my chances I noticed my moment was arriving fast. Nobody on the sidewalk, nobody driving in the road, nobody stopped at the traffic light. Before I even knew what I was doing I found myself flying over the top of the fence and heading towards the storm door I had been eyeing from the sidewalk.

I was overjoyed when the door opened right up, allowing me to hide and check to see if I had caused any disturbance. Everything looked good outside, nobody seemed to have noticed me. I had to check my hands for scrapes since the column I had pulled myself up on was topped with broken glass in the mortar; a common Philly area anti-climb measure. Thankfully the glass was so weathered it had actually been dulled over years, becoming little more than a slight discomfort.

The closed door into the building itself was a sobering reminder that I wasn't actually inside the building yet. The handle turned, and the door began to open. Unfortunately it was almost immediately blocked by something on the other side. I gave a few pushes along the handle side of the door to feel out where it was being blocked. The obstruction was around chest height; that means it's either an interior deadbolt or a hasp and padlock. The amount of give led me to believe it was the latter. 

I checked each of the windows on the porch; they were all locked and wood-blocked. I went back to the door which had some give as I mentioned. I pulled the door shut, then pushed again with a bit of force. I could feel the hasp beginning to give, so once more I pulled the door nearly shut, and put all my weight behind my shoulder for one last bump. Finally the screws gave out and the door swung open. 

The inside of the building was as remarkable as I had hoped. There were stained glass windows all throughout the complex. They had been removed from the chapels, but even without them those spaces were still magnificent. Out of all the large monastery buildings throughout New Jersey I've had the pleasure of documenting, this was one of the finest.

I spent about an hour wandering around the building before plotting my exit. I checked on security from one of the upper floors, and noticed from where they were sitting I should be able to walk out that open gate from earlier without them noticing me. And even if they did see me, I was on the way out anyway. My other option was to wait for the sun to go down, which would leave me walking alone back to the street where I left my car in the dark.  It wasn't a very difficult decision.

I waited a few weeks to see what would happen with the building. Occasionally demolition projects will stall or slow down significantly, but not this one. The historic monastery was quickly reduced to rubble. Surprisingly, despite multiple articles discussing the impending destruction, I didn't end up seeing any other photos of the complex. I'm extremely glad I managed to get inside and document the space. 

The space where the monastery once stood will go on to serve the hospital as a parking lot. Another ridiculous loss for the historic landscape of Camden.