The Long Pond Ironworks

The history of this quaint town goes back to 1766, when a man named Peter Hasenclever founded an iron forge referred to as the Long Pond Ironworks, named after the body of water it relied on for power. The Ironworks helped the continental army in the Revolutionary War, the War of 1812, and the Civil War. The industry demanded workers, and before long the Village of Hewitt was formed. The iron working ceased at the site in 1882, but other industry continued to thrive, mostly mining. Unfortunately by the 1950's, the industry was beginning to die out, and the land was donated to the state in 1957. It was designated as a state park three decades later. So what has become of this incredibly historic village?

The original stone furnaces from 1766

Limited state funding has left the ironworks in shambles. Despite it's listing on the NRHP, the village has been largely neglected since it came into state ownership. The local preservation group, The Friends of Long Pond Ironworks, has done as much upkeep as they possibly can to the key historic features of the village. A number of other buildings haven't had as much luck.

The first house along what is now Greenwood Lake rd. was the Stevens-West House. This small bungalow, built in craftsman style, shows serious signs of neglect. It has been boarded up from floor to ceiling.

  

Almost directly across the street is the old Hewitt church. It was constructed by the villagers in 1895. The building still stands in good shape to this day, and is one of the only buildings in the village that is constantly maintained and secured. The building was completely repainted in 1995.

Back on the other side of the street is the Olde Country Store, which now houses the visitors center, and next to that is the Stites house. It also sits in an advanced state of disrepair.

Next to the Stites house, we have the The Laird-West house. A new banner hung across the front of the building read "A new roof... thank you!". Behind this banner, a gaping hole in the facade caused by decades of neglect.

The Ward-Ryerson-Paterson house was actually not originally in the location it is now. It was moved from the site of the Monksville reservoir when the area was flooded in 1985. Once enough funding is raised, this house is set to be restored. Though it first appears on tax records in 1780 it most likely dates back even earlier than that. It was one of a handful of "satellite farms" that helped the village of Hewitt sustain over the years.

The Ward-Ryerson-Paterson house can be seen on the right.

The Harty-Milligan house sits adjacent to the Ward-Ryerson-Paterson house. This structure dates back to the early 1860's, when the village was seeing significant expansion to accommodate for the needs of the civil war. It was given an exterior refurbishment in 1995, around the same time the church was being worked on.

The second house moved from the site of the Monksville Reservoir was the Writenour house. Built in 1818, this was another satellite farm. It was expanded to in the 1870's, but hasn't changed much since.

Since the town wasn't always maintained after everybody left, many building have been demolished and a few others just collapsed. There are a couple of ruins throughout the village evident of this. The first one visitors come across is the old company store. This is where exployees of the ironworks would get their food and supplies. Employees would purchase items on a credit system. They would pick up whatever they needed and the total of the items taken was subtracted from their weekly pay.

Another such ruin is the "Longhouse", which was a dormitory for the iron workers who didn't have their own houses. Similar to the 1760's "Stone Double" house, very little remains of this building.

The manager of the mine near the ironworks had his own house, which was the largest house in the village. This three story residence was built in 1860, around the time that the ironworks was expanding for the civil war. At one time, it was the most beautiful house in the park. It is currently in a serious state of disrepair.

The stone double house is the oldest original house in the village. Dating back to 1760, this house was in it's current place since before the American revolution.

Finally, right of Furnace Bank rd., is the heavily vandalized Wm. J. Van Dunk House. This house belonged to one of the miners who worked in the area. Little has been done to maintain this building, and as a result it is falling apart.

The Long Pond Ironworks is one of the most unknown yet interesting historic sites in the state. Its like a small piece of revolutionary history tucked away in the woods of northern New Jersey. Hopefully more money can be granted to the state to help fix up the rest of the houses. Somehow, every missing piece of this town changes its significance exponentially. For a site that played a part in  three major american military conflicts, the attention it receives is insignificant.

The Cooley Sanatorium/ Villa Maria Home for the Aged

Located in a quiet suburban town, this decrepit hospital complex was once was once a tuberculosis sanatorium. Doctor Justus Cooley, a graduate of the New York Eclectic Medical College, opened his homeopathic hospital in the newly incorporated boro of North Plainfield as a scenic getaway for residents afflicted with tuberculosis.

Listed in the fourth volume of Journal of the American Institute of homeopathy as opening in 1889, the hospital is one of the earliest existing sanatorium hospitals in the state of New Jersey. Though the inside of the buildings bare almost no trace of how they appeared in those days, the exterior definitely hints to the age of the complex.

It was only seven years earlier that the microbe "tubercle bacillus" was discovered by Dr. Robert Koch. The name was derived from the latin word "tuberculum" which just meant a small bump. Though the name was around long before the microbe was discovered, the name only began to stick then. Before this, the disease was commonly referred to as "consumption".

The sanatorium, which at this time was still just a small two story hospital structure and a small house, was closed by the time World War I started. In 1939 the land and buildings were sold to the Franciscan Servants of the Holy Child Jesus. They would go on to construct new buildings, including a building with a chapel and a three story dormitory directly behind the original sanatorium building. The hospital was renamed the "Villa Maria home for the Aged".

The 1950's saw a need for more beds at the hospital, so another dormitory was added to the front of the original building in 1953. In doing this, a portion of the original building was remodeled so heavily it was basically demolished, and not much more can be said for the inside of the remaining portion of it.

More and more small additions were added to the main building, including a small portion with a false stone veneer added to the back in the early 1960's. Another seperate dormitory building was built for staff next to Dr. Cooley's humble home.

Finally, the most modern section of the hospital was built on the left of the original building in the 1970's. From what I can gather, it was a hospice ward. There was also a library added to the wing adjoining the original building 

It is around this time that the original section would see its final renovation.

Some of the original brick buildings were covered in stucco and painted over in yellow at some time later in the hospital's history. Despite all of the work and improvement done to the complex, the nursing home closed in 2002.

All of the buildings were vacated, save for the caretakers house on the property. Though no operations were held at the facility at this time, the sisters would continue to evade taxes until 2005, when their non profit status was revoked. The nuns would try and argue this, lying about income and hiding assets from the IRS. However, a lien was a placed against the property in 2007, with the sisters owing almost one and a half million dollars in back taxes for the blighted property.

After this ruling, the real scandal began to come out over the property. Collection notices were sent to the abandoned Villa Maria property, which time after time were returned because the property was represented by a group in Morristown. The town should have been aware of this, as the addresses of both the existing Villa Maria in Pennsylvania and the legal representatives in Morristown were on file. OPRA requests to see these documents, however, were rejected by the borough clerk. More and more requests for comment were rejected by borough officials, leading the citizens of the town to believe that illegal deals were made to encourage development of the property.

The outrage of the citizens didn't just stop there either. Several hundred people spoke out against the development of the property, asserting that the buildings should be saved and the land preserved as open space; something the borough lacks entirely. The local newspaper received a handful of letters, all saying the same thing.

As the shady deals began to come to light, the buildings on the property continued to rot away. Numerous local kids had found their way inside the buildings, smashing holes in the walls and leaving graffiti on every spot they could find. Though this played right into the owners hands, they were forced try and keep people out by putting up plywood and "no trespassing" signs.

While everyone was waiting for something to happen with the property, several conservationists reached out to the DEP about the property. It seemed that the 17 acre Villa Maria parcel was home to several uncommon species of trees, some dating back two hundred years.

With all of this information getting stirred up, the owners were getting anxious about their investment. They insisted that one structure on the property was not within the defined flood zone. Therefore a DEP permit should not be necessary in order to begin demolition on the building. However, concerns about asbestos and other hazardous materials played a factor as well.

Strides were made to get the Villa Maria hospital buildings on the state register of historic places, but the state denied the application. They cited lack of cooperation from the owners of the property as the main reason for declining to register the buildings. They did mention, however, that the buildings could still make it on the register if the boro amended their own historic preservation laws for Washington Park to include the hospital as another historic entity.

Unfortunately the boro stated that this was not really the case. They mentioned that if a majority of the owners of a property rejected the designation that there was nothing the boro could do. Since the Villa Maria property was under the sole ownership of a private entity, there is little hope that any such designation would take place. They also added that even if the buildings were added to the NJRHP, they still could be demolished in their entirety.

A representative of the DEP Historic Preservation Office was contacted about the ongoing struggle over the property. He gave a presentation about the property to the residents, in which he insisted that the boro could get the building on the register by adding it onto the "Master Plan" for the town. To do this, a Historic Preservation component needed to be added to the plan. While the buildings could still be demolished in that scenario, it would become much harder to get the proper permits.

As citizens worked on their efforts to preserve the property, an application to build age restricted condos were initially approved in 2007. This was done despite loud and consistent outcry at the planning board meetings. However, the process was halted by Somerset County.

Another issue that generated fear over the fate of the property is the conflict of interest between the Environmental Commission and the Boro's leadership. The chair of the Environmental Commission, Harry Allen, is none other than the husband of the mayor. He has refused to recuse himself on the matter, despite his wife's documented position in favor of building on the property. In accordance with this, the department has objected to repeated attempts from concerned citizens to do their jobs and conduct environmental studies on the property. Fearing the possibility of finding something that would spur development from the area, the commission has elected to ignore this issue entirely. The mayor has gone on record claiming that the boro was denied a grant and therefore cannot do any studies. This is wildly untrue though, as the state environmental commission provides guidelines on how volunteers can conduct the studies themselves. No grant money needed.

In 2008, the property changed hands. It was sold to Watchung Hills at North Plainfield, a limited liability corporation. A site plan came forth, showing extensive tree removal throughout the property. In addition, a majority of the hospital was to be demolished. The demolition included the original Cooley Sanatorium buildings, several of the buildings added under the ownership of Villa Maria, and the caretakers house as well.

Source

Since 2008, almost nothing had been published about the hospital. The buildings had been almost completely boarded up on the first floor, and since then the vandalism had somewhat subsided. Still they continued to rot with time. What we had here was a classic case of "demolition by neglect", where property owners intentionally ignore structural problems and vandalism until the building is too far gone to save. 

A pair of large fires in 2017 decimated the most historic portions of the campus, which sealed the properties fate. The campus was completely demolished in 2020. The township got their way, nd plans call for residential development on most of the property. While the buildings may be forgotten, the details of greed and deceit from all parties involved shouldn't be.

The St. Peter's/ Queen of Angels Church

The history of this church dates back to 1861, when the German immigrant population in Newark needed a new house of worship. Architect Otto Gsanther was chosen to design the new church, then called St. Peter's, in gothic fashion.

As the city scape of Newark changed, the German immigrants would continue to use the church for their services for over a century.  One day in 1958, after hearing of a fire at the original "Queen of Angels" church on Academy street, the German congregation invited the group to worship at their building on what was then called Belmont avenue.

The Queen of Angels parish was the first black Roman Catholic congregation in the city, after being officially recognized in 1930. The congregation grew at a steady pace, and eventually became an integral part of the city's history. In the 1960's, the Queen of Angels group was holding twice as many masses as the German group who built and also still occupied the building. By 1962, the German congregation moved to a parish in Irvington, leaving the towering house of worship solely to the Queen of Angels group.

As racial tensions were rising across the country, the Queen of Angels parish became a staple of the civil rights movement. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. visited the church a few times, and even used it as a meeting place for his Poor People's campaign.

In 1967, a rebellion broke out in Newark, leaving parts of the city charred, shuttered husks of what they once were. The neighborhood in which the Queen of Angels church sits shows signs of this. Surrounded by low income housing and blighted structures, the church still served as a landmark and a place for the black residents of the city to congregate and pray. In 1977, Belmont avenue was renamed Irvine Turner Boulevard; another action that would soon contribute to sealing the fate of the church.

The archdiocese decided to close the church building in 2012. For two years it sat waiting for another chance to be utilized in a way that would improve the neighborhood. However, in June of 2014, it was announced that the incredibly historic church which has stood for over 150 years would be demolished. The stained glass windows were promptly stripped out. The pews, altar, and anything else of value were taken from the structure. A demolition crane arrived and was parked in the lot for the parish school. It seemed that the buildings days were about to come to an end. That all changed when someone called the city office that issued the demolition permit. A critical oversight was brought to their attention; the church was registered on both the state and national registers of historic places. The reason nobody at the permit office caught in is because the church was registered under the old name of the street it sits alongside. When people heard that a church on Irvine Turner boulevard was coming down, nobody put two and two together that it was the same historic St. Peter's building registered as being on Belmont ave. This means that the demolition permit was a mistake, and a grave one at that. The archdiocese never brought this up when requesting the permits for demolition. Their efforts to quickly erase a piece of history has caused irreparable damage to the structure, and while it waits in limbo now we all know what's coming. I decided I had to take a trip to see this beautiful structure myself before it was forever stricken from the fabric of the city.

When I first visited the church, there were many people on the street around the building. School children walking to class, homeless folks resting in the shade and a number of other people who were just going about their business. I made sure to not stay too long, as I had to get to work nearby anyway. I returned on another day, this time a little bit earlier, to properly photograph the structure.

I didn't spend very long inside the church. It was in bad shape, littered with trash, and I was alone. After stepping on a rusted nail, which went right through the rubber soles of my boots. I decided to call it quits. As I exited the structure, I stepped on a piece of trash which made a loud popping noise. I looked up to see one of the folks on the street that was walking by staring at me. As I looked back at him, I could tell he wasn't happy that I was trespassing in the old church. I got right back into my car and hit the road. A few days later, I saw a headline on the Star Ledger's website about three people getting shot on Irvine Turner Boulevard. Curious where it happened in relation to the church, I typed in the address they had in the article into google maps. I was greatly saddened when I saw that the pin landed right at the steps of the church. This church, which had done so much for the community and the civil rights movement was now just a n overgrown lot where people get killed. It brought a great deal of grief to me, wondering how Dr. King would feel knowing that people continue to kill each other in the same streets he used to walk. While some things have gotten better, many more continue to get worse.

The Queen of Angels church is one of the oldest and most influential in the history of Newark. It will soon be just a memory, as so many other historic buildings before it are now. While this can never be undone, you can certainly bet that this example will be used in future discussion to hopefully bring a better system for historic preservation to the states. Until then, keep your eyes out for demolition photos.