Although my daily schedule is fairly active for a person who is retired, when I have a personal moment to spare I have been known to drive to the Bordentown Beach, sit on a bench that faces the water, and watch the tide as pleasure crafts drift along Crosswicks Creek that links to the Delaware River beneath the Interstate bridge. At low tide, sand bars are revealed close the columns of the bridge, creating a barbecuer’s oasis where revelers often drink and swim.
If the scenery isn’t appealing, I shut my eyes for few seconds and am drawn back to my childhood memories. I envision that family members gone before me are still around, teaching me the fine art of handling sinkers and bobbers while standing on the banks of Black’s Creek.
With both hands, I would hold on to my fishing pole for dear life. I never really caught anything except aquatic vegetation, but the experiences were exhilarating just the same. They also taught me how to skim pebbles across the surface of the water, even if they were round. Most of the time the process didn’t work, but every now and then, I would get lucky. Their expressions of encouragement were worth it.
A few wooden picnic tables, painted green, were located in mowed areas next to the creek. You could tell from the indentations that fishermen honed their surgical skills on these operating tables. Regardless, my family would celebrate loved ones with a picnic lunch by cleaning the rickety tables before draping cloths over them. Although these picnics were rare, it was the thought that mattered.
Unlike my relatives, I didn’t live in Bordentown until 2016. When my family came to visit, my relatives told stories about the history of the town and its citizens. In my childhood, I absorbed the words like a sponge.
Maybe that was the catalyst that deepened my lifelong passion for history. Especially local history. Sometimes we don’t realize how influential our families are to the development of our well being until they are gone.
As I recover from my thoughts and open my eyes, they might be swollen with tears as emotions run through me like a surge of adrenaline. I had the best relatives.
I miss them all.
Regaining my composure, I pick up a pebble next to the bench, focus on the surface of the water, and fling it with the inspiration of baseball hero Babe Ruth. There it sinks with an unceremonious blip. Some things never change.
I tune out the incessant noise of vehicles and trucks that speed across the bridge and concentrate on the pure blue sky and its endless patchwork of clouds. It is fascinating to watch them move even though, like history, our planet is what is really moving. Danish theologian and philosopher Soren Kierkegaard summed it up best when explaining the past: “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.”
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The history of Bordentown is a microcosm of our world. It has evolved since indigenous people first set foot upon the marshlands, fertile fields, and lush forests. The weapons of righteousness were wielded in the hands of those who believed that settling on any open land was their sacred right.
Cultures and classes inevitably collided through the decades. Our restlessness fueled our desires in making our lives better. Sometimes at the terrible expense of others.
These dark chapters of injustice were often counterbalanced by our greatest human qualities in which we planted the seeds of modernization.
For example, steamboats replaced canoes. Locomotives replaced the horse and carriage. Automobiles became alternatives to the steamboats and locomotives. Airplanes became alternatives to ground travel.
Traces of this history are all around me as I hear the digital clang of the light rail train and think what is must have been like to witness the first locomotive in New Jersey (and one of the first in the country), and to hear it belch and blast steam through the town’s streets.
Or to view the concentration of coal barges and other boats as they journeyed through the Delaware and Raritan Canal at Lock No. 1 with the assistance of mule teams. Or hear the clopping of hooves over stony surfaces as Joseph Borden, the town’s namesake, kept a stable of horses on a hill where he operated the third carriage route in the state.
Today, Bordentown is a major transportation hub surrounded by county, state and federal highways. While this is extremely important, the negative aspect is that the monstruous Interstate bridge impedes a scenic view of the Delaware River from the shoreline.
The river played a prominent role in defining the town’s courage during the War of Independence when, in 1778, British ships anchored off shore bombarded the town with hellish volleys of cannon fire, resulting in the destruction of property and the death of several citizens. In addition, enemy troops stormed the streets, unleashing carnage as they shot or bayoneted those deemed as political agitators.
Many homes, including Colonel Joseph Borden’s, were burned to the ground. Patriots like Borden, Francis Hopkinson, Thomas Paine and even Patience Wright had strong ties to the town and demonstrated their resilience during this time of struggle. If our colonies’ political and military leadership had not been strong, the U.S. Constitution would have never been written, and we would have never advanced into the superpower that we are today. We owe our lives to their sacrifices and continue to do so with other conflicts across the globe.
Of course, the outcome of the Revolutionary War would have been different if it wasn’t for the country of France, our first ally, and stalwart commanders like the Marquis de Lafayette served alongside the Continental Army. Lafayette visited Bordentown on his triumphant return to America in 1824 and 1825, thanks to the hospitality of Joseph Bonaparte.
From 1816-1839, Bordentown was blessed as the sprawling country residence of Napoleon Bonaparte’s oldest sibling, Joseph, former king of Naples and Spain, who lived in self-exile following the fall of the Napoleonic Empire. Known for having the first Picturesque-style landscape in North America, the estate also contained the largest private library and art collection in the country.
Since Joseph loved to entertain, many notable guests graced the corridors of his mansion, including the Marquis de Lafayette; Henry Clay; Daniel Webster; Nicholas Biddle; John Quincy Adams and his wife, Louisa among others.
As I recall from my history articles, there have been numerous Bordentown residents that have molded and transformed our society on a grand scale. Clara Barton, humanitarian and founder of the American Red Cross. Joseph Hopkinson, congressman and author of our first National Anthem, “Hail Columbia.” Commodore Charles Stewart, commander of the U.S.S. Constitution (Old Ironsides) during the War of 1812. Gershom Mott, New Jersey’s highest ranking general during the Civil War. William Allen, innovator of standard time.
Edmund Sturtevant created the first aquatic plant nursery in the country. William Powell, educator and U.S. Ambassador to Haiti. Richard Watson Gilder, poet and editor of Century Magazine. John V. Rice, inventor of the gasoline rock drill (pneumatic drill) and marine engine manufacturer. George Swift, inventor of corrugated cardboard and self-licking envelopes.
As an artist colony, Bordentown was blessed with talent. Gilbert Stuart, colonial portrait painter of the Founding Fathers. Charles Lawrence, portrait and landscape artist. Susan Waters, realistic painter of animals and people. Joshua Shaw, artist and inventor of the percussion cap. Samuel Bell Waugh, Philadelphia’s best known portrait painter. Frederick Waugh, painter of seascapes. Thomas B. Read, poet and painter. August Zeller, sculptor and teacher. Henry Hartman, illustrator of the Lone Ranger comic book covers.
Also, Bordentown cultured many minds and souls with its educational institutions. The Burgess Allison Academy for Boys. The Priscilla Braislin School for Girls. The Spring Villa Seminary for Girls. The Belle Vue Female Seminary. Linden Hall Female School. The Bordentown Female College. The New Jersey Collegiate Institute. The Bordentown Military Institute. St. Joseph’s Convent Academy. The Divine Word Seminary. The Bordentown Manual Training and Industrial School. This latter school, known as the “Tuskegee of the North,” welcomed many gifted African-American students with the best education possible. Among commencement speakers and lecturers were Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Paul Robeson, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Albert Einstein. Booker T. Washington visited the campus twice.
While all of the names mentioned are impressive, there are several individuals that I couldn’t write about, for lack of historic material. John Miles, Jr. (1777-1852), noted gunsmith and manufacturer. Henry “Hy” Watson (1868-1933), fish and game illustrator for “Field & Stream.” Fred Mace (1878-1917), silent film actor that portrayed chief of the Keystone Kops. Enoch Bills (1882-1966), food entrepreneur who spearheaded a merger with two canning companies in Massachusetts to form Ocean Spray Cranberries, Inc.
Major Harold Wood, (1915-1989), bombardier that dropped the first atomic bomb during the Cold War. Franklin Carr (1918-1993), renown iris hybridizer whose creations beautify the gardens of Buckingham Palace and the Vatican.
After returning to the sanctity of my home and completing this last article, I am now comfortable in my role as local historian and storyteller. I hope that I have made a difference in your lives. Even for a brief moment.
The recognition that has been bestowed upon me on the streets through handshakes has been quite humbling. It is valuable to understand that the essence of history is compared to friendships. It’s not only about the past but the present as well.
In summation, I’m reminded of the great Pulitzer Prize winner and poet laureate, Robert Frost (1874-1963). As he entered the final phase of his twilight years, he took pen to hand and wrote, “In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life…it goes on.”
Indeed, it does.
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A note from Doug Kiovsky:
Dear Friends, it’s time for me to close the book on Bend in the River. Over the past three years, you have let me into your homes and allowed me to tell the stories of famous individuals, institutions, and events that shaped the small community of Bordentown and the nation.
It has been an honor and a privilege to serve in the capacity as historian and storyteller. I hope that I have met your expectations.
Like history, change is inevitable. It’s time to journey down the road and see what else lies beyond the horizon. Since this is my last article, I thought that it would be appropriate to write about myself. It’s my version of wrapping up all of the stories with a Christmas bow.
I’ll still be in Bordentown. If you see that our historical society building is open, stop on in and say hello.
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