Benjamin W. Courter
Benjamin W. Courter
BENJAMIN WILLIAM COURTER was born in Camden NJ on June 6, 1877 to John Dodd and Laura Braker Courter. Grandfather Benjamin Braker was well-known in Camden as a newspaperman and as a Justice of the Peace. Ben Courter’s early years were spent in Gloucester City NJ, where his father in 1880 was a grocer. John Dodd Courter would soon embark on a newspaper career that would last until his death in 1920. He wrote for several Philadelphia papers and last worked for the Daily Courier in Camden, and was noted as an outdoor columnist, as was his son.
After marrying Sarah “Sadie” Emily Emmerson in Camden on August 23, 1898, Benjamin Courter followed his father into journalism. Beginning his career in 1900, he covered news for several Philadelphia newspapers before working on the old Camden Post-Telegram, which merged with the Daily Courier to become the Courier-Post in 1926. In the words of grandson “Duke” Courter, “He continued the tradition and worked as an outdoor columnist with the Courier-Post for 34 years.”
By 1920, Benjamin W. Courter had purchased a home at 203 Evergreen Avenue in Woodlynne NJ.
Ben Courter also began writing about days gone by in Camden. When veteran reporter Charles Leo “Mack” McKeone died in December of 1927, his extremely popular “The Peppery Pot by Mack” died with him. Ben Courter was tapped to fill some extremely large shoes, which he did with the “Along Memory Lane” column and other articles.
Benjamin W. Courter died in harness, seated at his desk at the Courier-Post building in Camden on November 8, 1934. He had completed another column devoted to Camden’s history at home the night before, which was published on November 20.
He was survived by his wife and four children, Harold E., Marion E., Elmer R., and John D. Courter. John D. Courter and grandson Robert “Duke” Courter would also go on to long careers at the Courier-Post.
Photos
Ben Courter’s “Along Memory Lane” column header
‘Peppery Pot Mack’ Laid to Rest Today
Camden Courier-Post —
Charles Leo McKeone, the Courier’s widely read “Peppery Pot Mack,” was buried this morning, with Requiem Mass in the new Church of the Holy Name. Old friends, those who enjoyed his reminiscences, those who had known “Mack” in the long ago were at the church. Last night many viewed the body in the funeral parlor of B. F. Schroeder & Sons, Broadway and Royden streets.
At the church this morning mass was sung by Rev. Thomas Whelan. Incidentally “Mack’s” funeral was the first in the new $250,000 church, which was dedicated yesterday. There was evidence of the Christmas season about which Mack was wont to write in other days. That was by way of yuletide greens at the side of the altar, of sprigs of holly here and there.
Interment was at Calvary cemetery, the pall bearers being members of the Courier-Post editorial staff. Edward N. Teal, William J. Paul, Frank Sheridan, Stephen O’Keefe, Benjamin Zorck, Ben Courter. The funeral also was attended by the Courier-Post management.
Along Memory Lane
Camden Courier-Post —
By Ben Courter
Twenty minutes to 10 o’clock tonight marks the thirtieth anniversary of the destruction of the U. S. battleship Maine in Havana harbor.
Of the 378 officers and crew, 268 were killed. The bodies of many were never recovered.
The disaster stunned the country. Then came reaction and war with Spain with quick victory that Americans regarded retributive justice.
* * *
In the early 90’s there was a plaintive popular air, “The Ship That Never Returned.”
Herbert Manderson Carr, son of Mr. and Mrs. William Carr, of 1004 South Second street, enlisted at 16 in the old Philadelphia Navy Yard, went to Potsmouth [sic] as an apprentice and successively became able seaman, gunner’s mate, chief gunner’s mate and gunner.
He sailed with the famous White Squadron, visited ports on either side of the Atlantic, went over to Mare Island, made a wonder trip to the Orient.
And infrequently he returned on furlough, bronzed, carefree, jauntily displaying his sealegs, proudly relating experiences in foreign ports, ever remembering the old folks at home with souvenirs.
“The Ship That Never Returned” and its melancholy burden ever made the mother apprehensive when he left on a new voyage, but he kissed away her tears with hearty, derisive laughter, even as he did when he left one morning in the midwinter of 97-98 after a party given in his honor.
For he was gunner aboard the gallant Maine and he was coming home, perhaps to stay, on February 14.
Thirty years ago tomorrow morning the father, an invalided veteran of the Civil War, sat in his reclining chair reading the morning paper.
“Why, I declare, mother, here’s a little item that says there is a rumor the Maine has been blown up.”
And he read a brief cable that was portentious [sic], but which said little.
Fielder D. Carr, a younger son, now a mailman in the Camden postoffice, went to Philadelphia to get the latest news.
And he found it only too true. The Maine had been blown up and in that long list of the missing was the name of Herbert, his brother.
He returned with the dire news. The parents, hoping vainly, refused to accept it as final. Later dispatches but confirmed it.
Nor was anything ever heard from Herbert, not even the satisfaction of his body being found. His fate ever remained a mystery, although later, when Captain Sigsbee visited Cramps, the mother interviewed him and learned her boy had been sleeping just above where the full force of the blast had driven the steel hull of the battleship.
* * *
Herbert Carr was Camden’s sacrifice aboard “the ship that never returned.”
During the Spanish-American war, for years after, he was the hero of that conflict.
There was talk of rearing a memorial, but sometimes heroes are forgotten in the moil of prosaic life.
So Herbert was forgotten except in the memory of friends, acquaintances now rapidly dwindling.
Along Memory Lane
Camden Courier-Post —
By Ben Courter
Tinkle, tinkle!
Clippety clip! Clippety clip!
And the old one-horse dinkey ambled along South Second street years and years ago, the wheels frequently striking comparatively large spaces between the rails with bumps and bangs. The iron shod hoofs of the nag more frequently struck the big and little cobbles that decorated that thoroughfare, at night drawing many a spark as from flint and steel.
Doggone, we used to feel sorry for those poor old hosses of the Camden Horse Railroad Company. They stood patiently enough around Second and Kaighn avenue for changing as the cars made round trips from Kaighn Point to Federal street—patient and docile and evidently without a bit of spunk left.
But the recent death of “Joe” Hackney recalls at least one old hoss that evidently concluded he was young and spruce and full of the pep of yesteryear. Hackney, long before he was in the oyster business, was a “horse car driver” on the old Second street dinkey line.
* * *
A herd of long horn steers were being driven from the Kaighn Point ferry to the old abbatoir at Sixth and Kaighn avenue one dismal night in the ‘90s. The fitful glare of gas lamps threw an uncertain light over the long lane of cobbles so that when Second street was reached one of the steers was invested with the spirit of adventure.
With a roar and a prodigious leap it left its fellows moving along to sinister fate. It bounded into Second street, clattered along and the few belated citizens yelled and shouted and scampered in terror.
Since it was about the midnight hour and Camden, then provincial enough, snugly tucked away in bed, it may be imagined the bellowing bull and the shouts of the frightened citizens developed enough commotion to bring a brigade of night-capped curious ones to the windows.
Yells of advice were given, but all from those safe inside. Those on the outside were not so certain.
Since the steer became more frenzied with the increased racket, occasionally narrowly escaping a dodging wayfarer a posse was formed. And then appeared in the picture the game old hoss of the Second street car line with Hackney at the end of the reins.
Rifles, muskets, revolvers of all vintages were displayed by a dozen doughty Kaighn Point citizens who boarded the car and proceeded to chase the steer.
They stood at the doors on either end of the car, at every window while old faithful jogged along in quest of the fiery bovine. Up and down Second street Hackney drove his equine charge and the hoss seemed to take as much enjoyment out of it as the hunters. Not for a moment did he stop even with the load, even with the reverberation of guns and the shouts of the citizenry.
A dozen such trips along the cobbled way and finally, under a fusillade, the bovine expatriate from Texas was bowled over.
It sure was one exciting night and perhaps there are some old-timers who recall Hackney and that episode of the faithful old nag that was young again, just for a night.
Along Memory Lane
Camden Courier-Post —
By Ben Courter
Harry Read, Camden’s leading milkman of long ago, former councilman and general all round good fellow, met Irving Buckle one day this week. They were looking over Cooper street, changing more in a week now than in a generation before the bridge came.
“Remember that sleigh ride I gave you over Cooper street 30 years ago?” inquired Read with a chuckle.
“You bet I do,” returned Buckle, former director of the Board of Freeholders and likewise a hail fellow well met in the days when fellowship really meant something. “I sure do, and I was darned near frozen!”
“But they were great old times at that,” returned Read.
* * *
And with these “traffic islands” planted in the middle of Camden’s erstwhile bon ton thoroughfare we wonder what the shades of such worthies as Cooper B. Hatch, David B. Kaighn, Samuel Davis and others of that coterie of 30 years agone must think o’ things.
Islands in Cooper street! Gadzooks! Winters do not seem what they used to be in spite of what the weather man might say. Of course, one might not expect to hear the joyous tinkle of the sleigh bell and the impatient whinny of the trotter in a day when gas buggies have relegated them to little else save memories. Still that would not stay Borean blasts laden with “the beautiful,” certainly scarce enough now compared to the period when Cooper street seemed covered the whole winter through.
And it was under that covering of glistening whiteness that Cooper Street was converted into an improvised speedway with the boys who had the fast steppers anxious to show their paces. Himself a lover of horseflesh, “Coop” Hatch saw to it that the amateur racers had free footing, for when he was mayor just before the dawn of the century he stationed cops at the intersections so that side street traffic would not interfere.
Thus with the stage all set one might find Read with his spick and span sorrel, Nellie Macklin, or “Dave” Kaighn with his Martin K., of “Esp” Ashton, “Stock” Woodward, Hatch or a few others making ‘em step along with glistening, steel shod hoofs fairly ringing over the frozen surface.
And there was the quiet but determined urging of the fellows back of the flashing steeds while the many always interested in horses, as they now seem to be in gas engines, stood along the curb line excited as they might be at the Kentucky derby. There was plenty of quiet betting in those days, too, and argument ran high over the relative merits of the speed kings.
It was indeed a grand, a rare old sport of the times and many there are still in the flesh who recall those exciting brushes along old Cooper street, those who, likewise remember just jogging along with the one girl in the world, when the speeders were through.
* * *
Somehow with all the luxuriousness, the comfort, the power, the convenience, the thousand and one superior points over the old fashioned horse and sleigh, there still re-echoes that tinkle of the bells that come down through the years as beautiful music. There is the gay laughter of beaux and maidens, sometimes half frozen, trying to eke out an element of warmth by poking feet beneath the straw spread over the board floor. And the occasional upsets brought shrieks of laughter, not screams of dismay as now when a speeding machine crashes into a tree or turns turtle.
Cooper street certainly can never again present that picture of sleighs and racers and the type of young bloods of that period. The “traffic islands” make it all the more certain that it can be but a memory, a memory to be cherished by the “old timers.”
Along Memory Lane
Camden Courier-Post —
By Ben Courter
Camden cops who once wheeled dead drunks, sometimes howling drunks, a mile or so through the streets to City Hall are becoming few and far between. There are few who remain, either active or retired, who fought roughneck gangs single handed, who never deigned to send in a riot call. Encounters with a terror like old Mike Kelly, who could wallop half a dozen ordinary men when filled with “red eye” are but legends of the department.
All this and much more is recalled in the death of William Harvey in his 83rd year, a typical “English heart o’ oak” in the good old days when a man was simply compelled to show his mettle to remain alive and kicking and a policeman down at old Kaighn Point. Certainly in the late ‘80s and for a quarter a century later Kaighn Point would have been altogether lost without this doughty arm of the law. He was part and parcel of it as were the veteran shad fishermen, the oystermen from off the pungies, the hard boys from the fishing and ice boats who could whip their weight in wildcats and yell for more, such as “Big Bill” Zaiser, “Tar Heel” Henry, the Bearn boys and others, most of whom have gone the way of all flesh.
Harvey, who lived for many years at 1010 South Second street, was in the heydey [sic] of his strength when he was appointed a policeman by Mayor Pratt on August 26, 1886. He was out a few months in the hectic days of ‘93–’94 when the Democratic police commission was in power, but with the ousting of that outfit Harvey returned on March 31, 1894, and remained until retirement on March 1, 1912.
It was during that early period that he used to scare us kids when he chased us home after dark. The youngsters of that generation were wont to yell “Billy Grab All,” and then beat it in more or less terror. It was not until later they learned his value in preserving order in a mighty scrappy area.
There was an organization known as the Avenue Club with headquarters below Front street which played high jinks on Sundays in particular, regarded as an abomination by the church goers. Harvey was detailed to break it up. Well we recall one Sunday afternoon in the then provincial town when Harvey made a raid, a single handed raid. We forget the exact number, but as we recall it 21 of the “avenooers” were marched two by two with the valiant “Bill” at the head all the way to City Hall, a good mile and a half away. And the one-man raid was effective.
It was in the fierce election fight incident to the old race track days in ‘94 as a small kid we see in memory’s eye “Old Bill” Harvey badly beaten in front of a polling place on Mt. Vernon street. Democratic enemies blackjacked him, kicked and cuffed him, used him for a football. Even then he refused to take the count, but a Democratic cop “necked him” and took him to the hall. We were frightened stiff when we saw his battered, blood-stained face. No mercy in those hard days, for Harvey was jailed and excoriated as a “rioter”!
But he had his comeback not long after and the rough boys were nearly shoved off the face of the map when the “organization” returned in force with J. Leighton Wescott as mayor. When the patrol wagons did away with pushcarts, when the call system was inaugurated, when the force was increased, conditions eased up. In his later years Harvey delighted in “flivvering” about, spent many a happy hour with the old timers in fire or patrol houses, frequently recalled the glorious days when it was just as easy to find a real scrap as it was to eat a hearty meal.
In his early days Harvey had followed the sea and it seemed to me he never lost the roll of the deck. Certainly he never lost that indomitable spirit born of the freedom of the wave, never called quits in a tight corner, never raised the white flag. “Old Bill” sure was the epitome of all that meant a real cop when it was a survival of the fittest.
Along Memory Lane: The Spite Wall
Camden Courier-Post —
“Wonder if they’re going to take down the spite wall?”
I have heard this query repeated half a dozen times since announcement has been made the old “mansion” of the late Dr. A.E. Street, southeast corner of Broadway and Stevens Street, is to be demolished to make way for a 12 story office structure. This razing is to be scheduled to begin within two weeks. The “spite wall” is on the extreme eastern boundary of the property plumb up against a 3 story apartment house built by the late George Holl.
Dr. Street, who died less than a decade ago, was one of Camden’s leading dentists. Son of “Father” Street, venerable superannuate of the New Jersey M.E. Conference. When the mansion was constructed, nearly two score years ago, it was indeed one of the show places along Broadway, for Dr. Street took particular pride in the architectural embellishments in the floral surroundings.
At the other end of the square, Broadway and Benson streets, Holl had erected his home. It was and is for that matter, a two-story brick with mansard roof and setting back from Benson Street. That side yard Holl likewise embellished with flowers of the season. It was the delight of anyone with half an eye to beauty from early spring to late fall. It started with great beds of tulips. It closed with chrysanthemums with alluring blossoms throughout the summer.
Street and Holl were regarded as among Camden’s most substantial citizens, one in the art of dentistry, the other as the builder of homes. They were fairly good friends until Holl built the block from Mickle Street to Stevens Street, since known under his name as the Holl Block. When Street built his then pretentious home, Charlie Curry informs me, he had an agreement with Holl that in the event of the then old circus lot being built up, it would not encroach on his view.
But when the building operation was about to begin Street saw that the dwellings and stores were going out to the usual building line. That would have cut off his view. He refused to permit that plan to go through and held Holl to his agreement, thus accounting for that block standing so far back from the curb line.
In the intervening years there was something of a truce, but warfare broke out anew when Holl in 1901 concluded to construct an apartment house just east of Street’s rear boundary. Apartment houses then in Camden were something of an innovation. Street didn’t like the idea and when he learned it was surely going up he took action.
He ordered the spite wall built.
There were expostulation, appeals, court action and other efforts to stay that wall, but Street, though a devout churchman and widely known for his charities, refuse to be, what he asserted, a victim of encroachment on his rights.
Thus he awarded the contract and one brought day a force of masons started the work. It created a local sensation, but the work went on apace and eventually the was finished as was the apartment house. Thus through all these years that solid bit if brickwork has stood within a couple of feet of the west side of the apartment, giving the lower part a prison-like effect. But as time went on it was quite forgotten and those who have resided in the apartment have taken the wall philosophically.
Those who knew Dr. Street were not surprised he took such drastic action. Though he was one of the pillars of the Broadway church, in fact I recall how he started the fund to rebuild the present great edifice at Broadway and Berkley Street by a $1,000 subscription, he was peppy as they make ‘em and refused to permit anyone to “walk over him.” He felt perfectly justified in building that wall.
So naturally the demolition of the “mansion” brings up that query
“Wonder if they’re going to take down the spite wall?”
Names mentioned: Rev. Abram K. Street — Dr. Abram Emory Street — Charlie Curry — Broadway M.E. Church — Stevens Building
Along Memory Lane: Old Eighth Street Swamp
Camden Courier-Post —
Old Eighth Street swamp is dwindling.
Not much is left only a small area of Eighth Street east of the Pennsy tracks and north of Van Hook Street.
Combination of civic-realty activity spelling the doom of the morass that once extended near the present eastern boundaries of the West Jersey Hospital.
It seems odd to those familiar with the acres of swampy wilderness of yesteryear to see the labor army pushing through streets where the frog chorus once sounded its dulcet strains, where the water moccasin once slithered through tussock and reed, where vagrant bobolinks and red-winged blackies stopped for tragic rest.
But it is a fact the cherished dream of many a South Camdenite of the long ago who hoped to see the day when the swamp would be but a memory.
Those new streets, actually extensions of connecting links of thoroughfares already long on the city map, are expected to result in the development of that area, bring something suggestive of a new community.
Long ago the swamp extended from the river to near Mt. Ephraim Avenue. It was called Eighth Street Swamp mainly for convenience because that street was one of the many cut off by the expanse of low ground.
Line Ditch was the feeder. The late Aaron Ward, one of Camden’s prominent contractors years ago, told me that barges loaded with brick were at one time floated up to where the Pennsy tracks now are located.
That stream, subject of many a malediction in later years when industrial progress had transformed into a semi-liquid abomination then was clean and clear as crystal.
It was fed by many a spring, and when the flood tide of the Delaware came in the water spread over the country sometimes forming a lake of many acres.
There were times when old Centerville seemed utterly isolated from Camden, when Ferry avenue, Broadway, and the railroad tracks were the only narrow causeways between the two sections.
Back toward Mt. Ephraim Avenue, then but a yellow gravelly ribbon stretching down to Mt. Ephraim and Blackwood, were the “bluffs,” relatively high ground usually covered by small growths. These have been graded, most of the material now resting as fill along the Crescent Boulevard.
No one man dreamed of filling in the swampy expanse. For a quarter of a century, the Board of Health discussed, re-discussed, and again discussed clearing up the morass. Abutting property owners when they could be found were cited to show cause why they didn’t fill their lowland.
And in more than one case the Board was told to take the land and so it if the city was so anxious. Eventually they were taken at their own invitation and the city did much filling and grading and built the $80,000 sewer that rid the section of Line Ditch.
Thus the Ditch disappeared. It was the first real step towards excavation, toward what is done today in the construction of streets, in grading to make way for homes, in creation of a community that will figuratively weld South Camden and its ancient rival Centerville, now the Eighth Ward.
Along Memory Lane: Fetters School and the Melting Pot
Camden Courier-Post —
It is not so many years ago, old timers say, since Fetters School at Third and Mount Vernon Street was considered large enough to accommodate youngsters for several generations. Now a six-room annex is to be built on the north side facing Walnut Street. Back in 1905 five rooms were added in the annex on Mount Vernon Street. With the new structure the school will contain 19 rooms, which would have thought far too large for a high school in the 90s, when Camden had its first experiment in that line. That was in the old Federal Street building later occupied by the Post-Telegram
Half a Century Ago
When Fetters School was built in 1875 it was considered about the last word as far as a school structure went. It was of stone, solidly constructed and furnished with gas, running water, and everything then regarded as thoroughly modern. The largest school downtown was the old Kaighn building on Newton Avenue, until the 1870s ample for the Kaighn Point area.
There were plenty of open lots when the Fetters School was built. Those days Camden was something of a struggling community with districts that had not yet lost their individuality. As a pupil in the early 90s in old Fetters I recall the section had many open spaces. Nothing remotely suggested the part-time classes was then necessary, certainly not thought of by Professor Horatio Draper, of blessed memory, who guided Camden’s educational system more than 30 years before he was displaced by the late Mayor Hatch at the close of the last century
The Melting Pot
Nothing had then been heard of a “melting pot” as applied to America and its schools. But around Kaighn Point even in the 80s there was the first evidence of a great influx of those from across the seas who were soon to follow the old families, who’s children were to enter that melting pot and become transformed into American citizens
The Fuhrmans, Auerbachs, Lichtensteins were among the first I recall. Many others followed; especially from the Russian Polish district where life was hard and oppression severe. Came the immigrant wave from South Italy whose descendants long since have taken possession of the district spreading from Third and Pine, once the stronghold of English, German, and Irish families. In a police census a quarter of a century ago it developed that the Fifth Ward could boast representatives from every nation on the face of the globe, even to a Finlander, some Turks with Japs and Chinese commonplace.
It was about the period when Miss Clara S. Burrough, long principal of the High School and now recovering from an operation in Cooper Hospital, was principal of Fetters that the big change came that the classes were composed largely of children of foreign parentage. Often they did not know a single world of English. Teachers had their problems and Miss Burrough will undoubtedly recall the great task involved in really making the “melting pot” down there in the old school at Third and Mount Vernon Street effective. But she and the valiant corps under here direction tackled it and by the time Miss Burrough was elevated to the principalship of Camden High, a very deserved promotion, by the way, the problem had been totally solved.
Hot Times in the Old Town
Incidentally Miss Burrough will likewise recall the hectic conditions in more ways than one for the period marked turmoil in the educational world hereabouts. “Old Drape” had been fired overnight by Hatch, indignation meetings were held, demands were made for his reinstatement but the Committee of Public Instruction, headed by the late C.S. Magrath, named by Hatch, naturally followed his direction. Martin Scheibner, a long, white-whiskered veteran of the Civil War, was named as Draper’s successor. But it was worse than handling a drove of wild horses. He venerable professor soon bowed out of the scene. It was not until the advent of Professor James E. Bryan that something like peace came. Bryan’s firm hand plus extraordinary ability and a determination not to surrender despite scholastic bedlam finally won.
But even yet, old friends of “Drape’s” who knew him in Fetters or in the makeshift “high school” have not forgotten the bitterness, have not forgiven the shabby way in which that fine Southern gentleman was treated. I recall him down at Fetters, sometimes with his setters on which he placed much store; often with a humorous story, which probably didn’t contribute to strict school discipline but which certainly left fragrant memories of days long ago.
Names mentioned: C.S. Magrath — Martin Scheibner — Fuhrman Family — Lichtenstein Family
Hurley Based Success in Life and in Business on Square Deal to All
Camden Courier-Post —
By BEN COURTER
Nearly two score years ago an earnest young man called together a handful of employees in a small store at Fifth and Pine streets.
“Boys, see that door?” he said to them.
“Well, if by any chance I should be called upon to resort to unscrupulous methods in the conduct of this business that door will be closed and this enterprise will end. Square dealing is to be the principle on which we will do business, square dealing to everybody.”
That young man was William Leonard Hurley, then but 27 years old and virile, visioning a great business which he purposed to develop. It was the pronouncement of what then was nothing less than an ideal, for it was in a period when there was a tendency to take advantage of the unsuspecting to sell inferior goods at exorbitant prices. Many operated under what was known in the trade as the “borax system,” which resulted in the public looking askance at installment buying for the home.
Based on that determination to cultivate public confidence in his own business, Hurley built slowly but securely, his small enterprise into “the big trustful store,” with branches in half a dozen cities.
It was a determination that made him a kindred spirit, in later years, with Theodore Roosevelt whose guest the Rough Rider was to become in the midst of a political campaign that stirred the country from coast to coast. It was the straight-forward characteristic that likewise prompted his subsequent activities in the interest of Camden, that was to be a factor in throwing off the provincial spirit and entering the civic stride so pronounced in the advent of the Camden bridge and the extension of Broadway. In both these he was a strenuous advocate of civic expansion, scientifically planned.
Hurley Not Born With a ‘Silver Spoon’
When Hurley was born in Chester county, Pa., 65 years ago, it was not with a “silver spoon in his mouth.” His father, William Hurley, was a railroad man, an honest, hard-working father, who, in times which were hard enough for the bread-winner, struggled to keep his family in the necessities of life.
The son, William, obtained the rudiments of education under great difficulties, for schools were scarce and far between in the sparse settlement where his boyhood was spent. It was a school of hard knocks, an environment that evidenced the difficult problem the poorer class had in obtaining the bare necessities of life. It was the experience of those early years that William L. Hurley never forgot, for afterward, when success had come, he never was deaf to an appeal from those “pulling hard against the stream.”
At the age of 12 he obtained his first job on a farm in his native Chester county. Farming in those days was hard, strenuous work, seemingly never ending labor to the boy, even then strong and possessing much of the splendid physique of later years.
“I worked from four in the morning until after dark,” Hurley once said, in a reminiscent way. “The farmer usually woke me in the morning by pounding his cane on the floor.
“My duties? Well, they included milking ten cows, feeding chickens and pigs, cleaning the horses, husking corn and doing odd chores. The farmer paid me $4 a month and board.
“In those days boys worked just as hard as grown folks. It was no cinch and when darkness came I couldn’t run fast enough to the farmhouse and to bed. I was dead tired and the bed brought supreme happiness to me. Sleeping was about the only fun I had.”
So the years went on with the hard work on the farm. The future held no great promise. The railroad was more alluring. Since his father was a railroader, young Hurley decided to try that field.
Railroading in 80’s No ‘Automatic’ Job
Back in the 80’s railroading was a far different proposition than it is now. There was none of the automatic brakes and couplings and numberless other inventions that have made it comparatively a safe job today. The old-fashioned coupling pin, for instance, was the abomination of the brakeman. What it did to Hurley he carried to his dying day in the loss of the end of one of his middle fingers.
Not only did he act as brakeman but also as fireman. As he stoked the pulsing engine he dreamed of the day when he might take the throttle. It seemed a wonderful career then, but fate had other things in store for him. He sensed it when he concluded to better his wage of $1.[?]0 a day and get “something on the side.” That was by selling sewing machines at night, often after he had worked hard on drilling freights or stoking the engine through the day.
But this selling of sewing machines impressed young Hurley that perhaps after all there was something else in life other than guiding a great locomotive over the rails. At any rate he concluded to try it out and this in 1888, the year of the “great Blizzard” in this section, he obtained a job with Edward Gately & Co. in Philadelphia as canvasser. It was not long before he had two assistants who acted as collectors, one of whom, Harry F. Jones, was to become his partner in the Atlantic City store many years later.
Gately was a wealthy man who had made his money mostly in the installment business, one who ever had an eye open for the promising young men in his organization. It was his custom to give them a chance and take them into partnership, opening stores in various cities. Young Hurley was one of these promising young men. In 1890 the business of Gately & Hurley was started. To be exact it was on February 1 of that year that a small store was opened, the corner store under old Wildey Hall at Fifth and Pine streets. It was there that he was inspired to tell his then small force of his square dealing policy.
Worked Long Hours to Make Store Success
Young Hurley worked like a Trojan. None in the ranks put in longer hours than he, sometimes 18 or 20 before he was willing to call it a day.
Not only did he direct his force in garnering business, but he went out on the street, often with rugs across his shoulders, to obtain patronage. Many recall the stalwart, earnest young man and his breezy manner which seldom failed to bring result.
Nor was Hurley, in the flush of subsequent success, averse to recalling those strenuous days, usually with a chuckle and remembrance of old timers who had stood staunch and strong with his organization through the intervening years.
Four years later the business had grown to such proportions that he concluded another location was needed. That was after all the stores under Wildey Hall had been occupied. In 1894 the Gately & Hurley store was opened at Broadway and Pine streets. It was then 33 by 90 feet.
When Hurley impressed Gately with the necessity for expanding and having a real store he prepared plans for a four-story structure. Camden then was filled with the “can’t be dones.” Toone & Hollinshed at Broadway and Kaighn avenue was the biggest place on that thoroughfare. Mrs. Varney’s place was on Kaighn avenue, the store of E. V. Story at Sycamore street, Hughes Brothers at Walnut street, Fuhrman Brothers at Chestnut and a few notion places here and there. But the Hurley enterprise seemed so outlandish that one day as George Leathwhite, then Camden’s leading plumber, was looking over the building operation a prominent business man of the period asked.
“Who is the damn fool building this place?”
Nor was he mollified in the least when informed it was “Bill” Hurley. It was regarded altogether a foolhardy undertaking, one that would spell certain disaster. It was pointed out there was nothing just like it on Broadway and that there was nothing to warrant such an outlay.
As a matter of fact that pessimistic note eventually reached Gately. He had some misgivings and Hurley’s four-story building was kept down to three. Just two months after the store had been finished it was necessary to find warehousing room by renting the old bakery of William Kairer at Line and West street. Incidentally, it may be of interest to recall it was Kairer the baker, who had been shot and killed by a burglar in 1893. Theodore Lambert was hanged in the old county jail for that murder.
In 1900 Hurley bought the Gately interests, giving him exclusive ownership, and the business continued to grow making more additions necessary. The old Field properties, two and a half story bricks, were bought, torn down and the store extended.
In 1903 a store was established at Wilkes-Barre with Daniel Loughran as Hurley’s partner. Three years later Henry J. Tobin was made his partner in another store at Trenton. Then in 1912 John J. Powell was commissioned to open the Hurley-Powell store at Wilmington. Harry F. Jones, Hurley’s collector in the very early days opened the Hurley-Jones store at Atlantic City in 1915. Five years later another Hurley store started business at Bridgeton. And in 1923 the home store was remodeled and in the meantime, old Turner Hall, where many a gay night was had by the old timers in masked balls and other festivities, was converted into a warehouse with other structures doing like service. Hurley has long since been recognized as one of South Jersey’s merchant princes.
Roosevelt Given Support in Bull Moose Campaign
Although he never consented to leave the helm of his great business enterprises, save later in life when he spent part of the winters at Hilton Head or occasionally went abroad, Mr. Hurley found time to take an active interest in the affairs of Camden. He did not seek political preferment but for more than 30 years he sought the best that might come with [blacked out]n progressive government. He ever desired to see Camden forge ahead in business in a civic way. Frequently he chafed over a tendency on the part of the political powers to let things drift along. He had no particular objection to the Republican organization as it was constituted under the late Senator David Baird, but he did believe with all possible sincerity that if the progressive spirit could be injected into it much would be accomplished, things that were left to very, very slow evolution.
It was therefore quite in keeping with that tendency that he aligned himself with the late Cooper B. Hatch in the late 90’s when the Committee of 100 was born with the Courier then under S. Conrad Ott as city editor being a potent factor in the victory. It was then that Hurley gave financial and moral aid to the movement with Hatch as the leader and with Lewis H. Moorman, [blacked out], C. Kramer and others many of whom have long since gone fostering the cause. [blacked out] its purpose perhaps although within a few years it had passed with the usual disintegration of independent movements.
When Colonel Roosevelt formed the Bull Moose party and became the Presidential candidate in 1912 with William H. Taft and Woodrow Wilson in the field, Mr. Hurley was an earnest active advocate of the Rough Rider. In fact he was one of the delegates to the Bull Moose convention that nominated Roosevelt.
In the midst of that truly hectic campaign when Wilson, Taft and Roosevelt visited Camden, Wilson’s meeting was enthusiastic enough to please any Democrat. Taft’s was a frost and hardly more than a fringe, mostly office holders greeted him, but Roosevelt’s was what the Colonel himself called a “rip snorter.”
Teddy Was Guest at Home of Hurley During Visit Here
Hurley was his host on that occasion, a hot summer night, itself suggestive of the extremely hot campaign. These meetings were held at the Third Regiment armory, no other building then being available. One may yet recall very vividly the entrance of the Colonel, Mr. Hurley and the Camden Bull Moose leaders. The great drill hall was literally jammed, with yelling enthusiasts even hanging from the top girders. Just as he arrived a terrific thunder storm broke loose, the reverberation, the vivid flashes lost in the roar of the crowd.
“Where’s your hat, Teddy?” someone yelled.
And the Colonel tossed his old black slouch hat in the ring while Hurley led the cheer that followed, a cheer that seemingly tested the strength of the expansive roof. Roosevelt had been a guest at the Hurley home at West Collingswood where the leaders, the rank and file of the Bull Moosers met him. It was one gala night and Mr. Hurley was in the zenith of his glory.
None was more disappointed when Colonel Roosevelt failed at the November election, for Mr. Hurley felt that the country needed the hero of San Juan Hill particularly at that time. He sincerely mourned the Colonel’s passing, but to the very last cherished his memory, regarding him as the Great American.
Backed Non-Partisan Move, Aided Opening of Broadway
As has been indicated, Mr. Hurley had no particular feeling against the Republican organization, but he was certain that Camden was on the threshold of big things and that there should be an awakening. There appeared to be no intention of getting out of the rut so far as the political powers were concerned and with the assurance of the bridge he regarded it necessary to be alive to the opportunities certain to come. There had been talk of certain outlets from the bridge which did not meet the situation in his judgment. For one thing, he was impressed with the extension of Broadway.
For more years than one might recall, Broadway had been Camden’s principal street. Many regarded it as the city’s most important business thoroughfare. Mr. Hurley early realized that to extend it to where the bridge plaza would eventually be located was a real civic essential, but the city administration did not consider the financial outlay that would be involved justified in the extension.
That was one of the factors that resulted in the Non-Partisan movement of 1922, of Mr. Hurley’s advocacy of its cause, of his financial and moral support. He was one of the leaders in the civic revolution that first brought the victory for commission form of government and later that ushered the Non-Partisan candidates into office.
It was the realization of a cherished dream when the new administration bought property that assured Broadway’s extension to the bridge plaza. It justified his prediction that it would be like giving a new blood stream to the city, for the Walt Whitman Hotel, the Wilson Building and others rapidly rising about Broadway and Cooper streets prove it beyond all doubt.
Camden Bridge Proposition Given Approval by Hurley
Mr. Hurley not only gave his every influence toward the Camden bridge proposition in the days when it was regarded more or less a joke, but he worked assiduously to crystalize [sic] sentiment so that the century-old dream would be a dream no longer. New Jersey did its part when Walter Edge was governor, but there was plenty of backing and filling on the part of Philadelphia and Pennsylvania. There were many discouraging epochs, even after a joint commission had been created, but Mr. Hurley was among those who refused to give up hope. What was subsequently accomplished was due mainly to men of his faith, of his courage, of his energy.
After its completion the necessity for a second span was impressed upon him. Shortly after the Camden bridge was opened to the public he advocated another from Market street, Gloucester to Pattison avenue, Philadelphia. Since other sites have been suggested. A joint commission has been named to make preliminary surveys but has been at loggerheads over a proposal to build a span from Red Bank to League Island. Mr. Hurley regarded his suggestion as far more feasible and he supported it by arguments that were hard to answer.
Throughout his career Mr. Hurley had been an earnest advocate of co-operation among business interests of the city. For many years there was the Board of Trade rather an innocuous organization, usually attended by half a dozen men and voiceless so far as influence went. He concluded a rejuvenation was necessary, consented to act as president and speeded it up with the late Louis T. Derousse as secretary. Later Charles M. Curry held that position and until the present Chamber of Commerce was formed under a campaign directed by the American City Bureau. Mr. Hurley or his subordinates had given it every possible aid to make it a factor in the community.
Assessment Commissioner Was Only Political Post
Aside from his principal business, Mr. Hurley was associated for many years with the late William J. Lorigan in building homes. Their first extensive operation was the construction of two rows of dwellings in Princeton avenue. Others were constructed in various parts of Camden and the development of the district about Twenty-seventh and Federal streets was largely due to the firm. After the elder Lorigan’s death he was succeeded by his son, William H. Lorigan, who has been associated with Mr. Hurley.
While he sought no political honors, Mr. Hurley did once accept for a few years a position. It was during the Committee of 100 regime when he became a commissioner of assessment. He [?] served for many years as a delegate to the Atlantic Deeper Waterways Convention. He took a keen interest in that organization and in the work of actually having an inland waterway along the eastern seaboard. It is slowly developing with the possibility of becoming an actuality a few years hence, mainly through the effort of men of Mr. Hurley’s caliber.
When he came to Camden Mr. Hurley first resided on Stevens street, then at [?] Pine and from 1894 to 19[?]9 at 7[?]8 Broadway. In the latter year he bought the estate on White Horse pike at West Collingswood that had been used as a sanitarium. The building was virtually reconstructed, the grounds were laid out in beautiful shrubbery and there were already fine nut trees which made it a show place. He called it Dungarvan, after the county in Ireland where his father was born.
It was there at his palatial home, with the beautiful surroundings that Mr. Hurley delighted in acting the role of host, of gathering about him old friends and harking back to the times that were.
Unspoiled Good Will Befriended All in Need
Old friends cherish the memory of one outstanding characteristic of “Bill” Hurley. Increasing fortune never “spoiled” him. He remained democratic until the end, and those who had known him through the years called him “Bill” just as they had done in the days when he was forging ahead in spite of the “can’t-be-dones.”
Nor did he ever forget an old customer. It might be an old, old woman upon whom fortune had consistently refused to shine but who made her little purchases at his store. None was too lowly for him to give his personal attention under such circumstances. There was ever a real grip of the hand that spoke sincerity.
It was quite natural that he enjoyed hunting and fishing. For many years his summer home was at Sea Isle City, where his family went through the vacation period each year. There he never failed to go out to sea or to try his luck off the pier, usually with an old friend. Catching the piscatorial beauties, particularly a channel bass or a drum, was regarded with almost the same satisfaction as putting over a big business deal.
Over a dozen years ago he bought the island at Hilton Head, off the coast of South Carolina and 30 miles from Savannah. While he enjoyed all the comforts of civilization, the surroundings were kept in their primitive simplicity. Nothing delighted him more than taking an old friend along to the island estate and showing the guest the time of his life.
Men like Hurley do much that is unheralded to alleviate the suffering of the world. Creed or color meant nothing to him if aid were needed. What he gave in that respect no one knows. Those long associated with him declare it was sufficient to make happy a small army in adversity.
Aided Worthy Causes Regardless of Creeds
Charitable organizations, religious or otherwise, enjoyed his bounty. No one was aware of such aid unless it happened to be in a “campaign” to raise a specified sum. It was Hurley very often who started things going by way of a liberal contribution. It mattered not whether the cause was for Protestant, Catholic or Jew—just so it was worth while. When the vicious pogroms were sweeping Russia he was one of the most generous contributors to the Camden funds for the sufferers. In the flu epidemic of 1918 he was among the leaders who aided the stricken, who gave many a family a lift over rough places.
During the war he was active in every Liberty Loan drive, in every movement that aided ultimate victory. He was chairman of the Knights of Columbus drive, he was a potent factor in the United War Workers’ campaign, in the Red Cross and kindred movements. He took great interest in the boys who “went over there” for his own son, Jerome, was in the service.
Surely in glancing over Camden’s history in the past two-score years not an instance conducive to the city’s development may be cited without finding William L. Hurley’s name connected with it some way, some how. He was so much a part of its warp and woof that the civic fabric bears indelibly the impress of his personality.
Along Memory Lane: The Waning of the Old Bike Days
Camden Courier-Post —
Waning of the old bike days came with the advent of the “gas buggy,” even though many wedded to the silent steed refused to call quits with that invigorating, healthy sport.
Just who sported the first auto hereabouts I do not recall, since several were mentioned by the late Charles Leo McKeone who “ran” The Courier’s Peppery Pot for several years. I do remember Dr. Roland [sic] I. Haines and Dr. Wilson G. Bailey, so far as the downtown area is concerned, as among the first, with William Leonard Hurley, who died Monday, in the running. These first cars were small red runabouts which clattered along with enough noise to make every horse within a mile rear and plunge. Thick volumes of blue smoke came from the exhaust and when Doc Bailey or Doc Haines went along Broadway the street was filled with a cloud. The runabouts were dubbed “devil wagons” and considered by the old timers as nothing less than an abomination.
But it was Hurley who recognized the gas buggy had come to stay, as he had visioned many other things, in a civic and business way, that his contemporaries often regarded as passing crazes or whims. Asphalted streets were slowly developing as a method of paving over the cobble and asphalt block paving, but there was little to offer the autoist of that day, far as the outlets to the city were concerned.
It was Hurley, just twenty-five years ago next month, who called together the comparatively few auto owners at a conference in his office at the Broadway store to discuss that question of developing needed arteries leading out of the city. It didn’t cut any great figure in the news of the day, but from it eventually grew the movement that crystalized into the street and road building that has meant the expenditure of vast sums.
Federal street was paved and so was Haddon avenue, while Mt. Ephraim avenue was laid in Belgian blocks on a foundation that even yet defies the heavy traffic. Part of that has been covered with amiesite, but the lower section remains pretty much as “Allie” Sayrs paved it nearly a score of years ago. From that little gathering a quarter of a century ago has grown the street improvement program which is even today being extended through the Centerville section.
When comparatively smooth streets were laid there bobbed up the problem of curbing the “speed fiends.” For many a year the limit had been fixed at 12 miles an hour. It was the limit when John and Mary took a sulky ride in the ’80s; it was the same with the biking days, although the scorchers paid little heed to it. Many who had the temerity to go 20 miles an hour were heavily fined as public menaces.
That 12-mile limit seemed good enough for several years after the small buzz wagons made their advent and is even yet conspicuously displayed in country towns who warn the driver to “go slow and sed [sic] our town or go fast and see our jail.” But the speed boys came along and 20 miles an hour was nothing at all.
I recall a story I wrote for The Courier of a young couple “speeding” to their death over the “s” bridge at Atco by plunging through the railing and falling on the track below. It was charged the young driver was a speed fiend, that he was going fully 20 miles an hour when the accident occurred. A demand was made to curb such recklessness, and constables were assigned along the White Horse to shoot the tires of those who thus took fate in their hands.
By the time Hurley had developed his beautiful property, “Dungarvan,” along the White Horse, the 20-mile-an-hour drivers were becoming somewhat of a nuisance and when the concrete roadway was finished in 1922 the real speed fiends were going a mile a minute and were thick as fleas. It was indeed a far, far cry from that little gathering in his office so long ago, marking the development of the auto from the very crude one-cylinder affairs to the truly wondrous cars of today.
Throngs Mourn as W.L. Hurley Is Laid to Rest
Camden Courier-Post —
Thousands Pay Tribute To Merchant Prince at Home In Collingswood
SOLEMN REQUIEM MASS AT ST. JOHN’S CHURCH
Many Follow Funeral Cortege to Mausoleum in Calvary Cemetery
By BEN COURTER
William Leonard Hurley, merchant prince, was buried today in the family mausoleum at Calvary Cemetery, beside the son whom he cherished, now gone these many years.
Camden paid honor to its distinguished merchant son for out of the tall tower of city hall the bell tolled rhythmically from 10.30 to 10.[?]0 this morning. That is a tribute seldom paid, only to the most distinguished of Camden’s citizenry, only to those whom it holds in highest regard.
In addition Mayor Price ordered all city flags lowered half mast while the funeral was under way, itself a high mark indicating municipal regard and sorrow in the passing of an eminent son.
The burial came after tribute that seldom comes to any man. There was no pomp with the glitter and glare that usually comes to the military great. There was none of the evidence of the peculiar fealty that comes with the close of a great political leader’s career.
But there was in evidence, last night and again today, something suggestive of a community paying full and really heart-felt tribute to one who had lived with lasting benefit to his fellow-man. “Dungarvan,” the home of the merchant prince, last night was the scene of an outpouring of the friends gained through the years who took farewell of one whom they had held in highest regard. Nor was it merely a formal viewing of one who had passed on, nor idle curiosity, nor a perfunctory performance of mere duty.
One passing through that great throng as it wound its way along the paths beneath the great pines and oaks, up to the immaculately white entrance guarded by the Hurley retainers, found evidence of the sincerity of it all. It came by way of expression from men and women who had driven to the palatial home on White Horse pike and again by those who had perhaps walked several miles. A great social gulf between, but with one commonalty of sorrow, of regret in the passing, of satisfaction in having known “Big-hearted Bill Hurley.” That expression was heard repeatedly—“Big hearted Bill Hurley”—and some of those who thus alluded to the one lying so quietly within the south parlor of the Hurley home evidently knew the full force of it, knew it from experience.
Cortege Under Way
George Blake, funeral director and long personal friend of Mr. Hurley, aided by Frank Leonard, had some difficulty in getting the cortege under way, even though state and Collingswood police had closed White Horse pike from the Crescent boulevard roundpoint to Collings avenue to traffic. Eventually it was accomplished and the merchant whom everyone seemed to recall with something worth while had gone forever from the portals he loved.
With a guard of motorcycle policemen, the funeral stretching squares wound its way along Knights Park just giving promise of the glory of young spring verdure. It reached the humble little one-story brown church, St. John’s Catholic, all but hidden by the evergreens, all but covered by ivy. There a vast crowd awaited. A rush would certainly have been made into the church before the arrival of the mourners, but the doors were locked. It was necessary for St. John’s church accommodates but 60[?]. Certainly a thousand would have tried to force an entrance.
But with the arrival of the family the doors were opened. The honorary pallbearers once more formed a lane through which the honored dead was carried up the steps, into the sanctuary, drawn to the altar where candles flickered in the filtered lights from the stained glass windows. Then came the rites.
A solemn high mass of requiem was sung. Rev. John O’Farrell, pastor of the church and good friend for many a year of the Hurley family, was celebrant. Rev. Joseph M. Corriston of St. Joan of Arc Church, Fairview, was deacon, and Rev. Paul Fairbrother, Church of the Immaculate Conception, was sub-deacon.
Priests at Altar
There were gathered about the altar Msgr. Bozzi, Sea Isle City, Rev. Joseph Phelan, Langhorne, Rev. Father Brendon Shea, Church of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, Rev. Father Sutcliffe, Gloucester City, Rev. Father Corrigan, Holy Name Church, Rev. Father Henry, Sacred Heart, [blacked out] Most [blacked out] of the prominent South [blacked out] were attending the [blacked out] Bishop McMa[blacked out] otherwise they would have been at the [blacked out] altar at the Hu[blacked out]. Sombre-garbed Sisters of Mercy were in the pews. Among them was Sister Christine, for whom Mr. Hurley had been godfather years ago [blacked out] now is teacher of literature at [blacked out] Camden Catholic high school.
During the solemn service for the dead, the Immaculate Conception quartet sang. That is composed of Harry Weiss, tenor; E. Ehrman, bass; Miss Marie Archer, soprano, and Mrs. Katherine Maloney, contralto, with Miss Mary Niles, accompanist.
Funeral Reaches Cemetery
The solemn ritual over the cortege bearing the dead proceeded to Calvary Cemetery. Long before its arrival hundreds had gathered along Marlton pike—hundreds who were undismayed by a keen, cutting north wind, even though the majority were elderly women. It was apparent they were, as a rule, the old, old patrons of the Hurley store, those whom the founder ever served. They braved the wind and the discomfort to pay their tribute to the dead.
Whether it was by coincidence or otherwise, two airplanes circled over the cemetery when the cortege arrived and continued until the mourners had left. They seemed like two great birds on guard. Some thought it a symbol significant to the occasion.
Headed by motorcycle policemen from the state, Camden, Collingswood and Delaware township, the funeral arrived, passed the guarded entrance.
Thousands Pass Bier
Last night they paid tribute to an old friend and chieftain—thousands of them. Seemingly there was a never-ending stream of notables, of the lowly, those in every walk of life. They came in limousines, in trolleys and many walked, but all were imbued with one object, to take parting of “Big-hearted Bill Hurley,” whom they had known through the years [blacked out] to increase their regard with mellow [blacked out].
There was Ben Maloney, pal of many [blacked out] a year in the hunting field, who made [blacked out] the trip to the Hurley h[blacked out] enough because of [blacked out] F[blacked out] strong was Maloney [blacked out] times when he and his old [blacked out] had trod the wood and fields. Tears came unrestrained.
There was venerable Philip M[blacked out]Mann, who came down from R[blacked out] to take parting with his old chief. F[blacked out] Mann is the oldest [blacked out] of the Hurley organiza[blacked out] many a year he trod the [blacked out] a collector. He has long [blacked out] pensioned.
There was a long, long line of Hurley employes who wound about the path leading to the home, who met by the bier while the son of the family, Jerome, and Harry and James Moran, executives, stood by the door.
There were plain Mr. and Mrs. John Smith and their more exalted neighbors, too, who passed through the room holding the honored dead.
Elks Hold Services
And there was Camden Lodge of Elks there to hold the memorial service for one who exemplified the principles of that great American order in an exalted degree. They were there, these Elks, to write the faults on the sands, the virtues on the tablets of loving memory.
There was Phil Wilson, for many a year close associate of Mr. Hurley, who had known him all through the years that brought success. And William J. Lorigan whose father had long been associated with Mr. Hurley in building enterprises and former Prosecutor William J. Kraft, nephew and good friend of the family.
But by far the most [blacked out] memory of the man who lay so quiet [blacked out] and still were the flowers [blacked out] Mr. Hurley in life loved the [blacked out] springtime of summer and of [blacked out] Dungarvan had ever been a [blacked out] estate under his direction with [blacked out] grand old trees but there were [blacked out] splashes of color, the great [blacked out] rhododendrons along the [blacked out] dary yet recalcitrant but with [blacked out] ising buds. There was the garden [blacked out] of fresh of flowers now but with [blacked out] secret expanses—the roses and [blacked out] gardens and the peonies [blacked out] host yet to put forth their splendor [blacked out]
Bower of Beauty
[blacked out] of Dungarvan within it was [blacked out] of blossoms [blacked out] and the [blacked out] life of revived nature. Dungarvan within was a veritable living bower of beauty, exquisite [blacked out] that surrounded the bier that mounted [blacked out] the walls to the ceiling. Under the light of the candles in golden [blacked out] the color was one wonderful [blacked out] of red and pink and garnet with [blacked out] roses [blacked out] everywhere. [blacked out] [blacked out] [blacked out]
These were the [blacked out] that [blacked out] friends who [blacked out] passing tributes that came from all parts of the city, the county, even from far parts of the country.
There was a great basket of American beauty roses and [blacked out] Mrs. Hurley [blacked out] [blacked out] [blacked out] [blacked out] [blacked out] [blacked out] island estate [blacked out] a long time [blacked out].
The Camden employes with a [blacked out] heart. From the staff of the Hurley-Loughran store at Wilkes-Barre came a perpetual membership in the purcha[blacked out] society, and win[blacked out]dre[blacked out] designs from the stores at Bridgeton, Trenton and Atlantic City.
Organizations Send Blossoms
There was a great wreath of acanthus leaves from the Chamber of Commerce, a cross from the Broadway Business Men’s Association, the cloak of purple and white from Camden Lodge of Elks, snapdragons from the banks with which he had been affiliated, a basket from the Cities Corporation Company, which controls the Hotel Walt Whitman, a basket from Wyoming Tribe of Red Men.
Others who sent their tribute of beauteous blossoms were Mr. and Mrs. J. Walter Staats, white lilies and lilacs; John Schlorer, calla lilies; A. J. Henderson, “spring garden flowers”; Mr. and Mrs. J. David Stern, roses, lilies and snapdragons; John Croft and family, spring flowers; Mrs. Gertrude McNichol, Jerome Hurley’s fiancee, a great basket of lilies, roses and white lilacs; her father, Daniel Dever, basket of flowers; Col. T. R. Donovan, a four-foot pillow of flowers.
Mr. and Mrs. Walter L. Tushingham, a spray of white lilies; Mr. and Mrs. Philip Wilson, lilies and roses; Mr. and Mrs. S. Canning Childs, spray of lilies and lilies of the valley; Dr. Harris, Savannah, Ga., spray of American beauty roses; J. B. Van[blacked out], basket of flowers; Howard E. Hemphill, basket; Robert Stecker, spray of lilies.
Flowers, Still More Flowers
Mr. and Mrs. Charles W. Auster[blacked out], spray of lilies; Camden Lions Club; Theodore Tiedeken and Brother, basket; Arthur Moffett, spray; J. C. Ra[blacked out], basket; H. Black, of the T[blacked out]n Upholstering Company, basket; [blacked out] Beau & Company, spray; Endowment B. & L., basket; Argonne B. & L., basket; St. John’s Men’s Club, Collingswood, basket; Charles Cramer, basket; Harry Pinsky, basket; Home Furniture Association, basket; Mr. and Mrs. J. A. Murphy, [blacked out] basket, cut flowers; Dr. [blacked out] Edward Mallon, Philadelphia; [blacked out] and Mrs. Charles [blacked out], spray of American [blacked out]
Mr. and Mrs. J. Thompson of Hotel [blacked out] Atlantic City, pillow of American beauty roses; Mr. and Mrs. David [blacked out], basket; Miss Bessie Hun[blacked out], [blacked out] former stenographer, spray of [blacked out]; [blacked out] D. Sadowsky, N. Y., spray [blacked out] spring flowers; Jack and Jules [blacked out]man, basket; Mr. and Mrs. J. A. [blacked out], spray; Mr. and Mrs. John [blacked out], spray; Mr. and Mrs. John [blacked out], spray; Mr. and Mrs. H. J. [blacked out]; Dr. and Mrs. W. J. McKin[blacked out]; Mr. and Mrs. James Mallon, [blacked out] Britton, J. P. King, sprays; Mr. and Mrs. Michael Collins, wreath; [blacked out] W. We[blacked out], wreath; Michael [blacked out], Lindenwold, basket; Elisha [blacked out] Jr., Lawrence Hurley, sprays of American Beauties; Mrs. Margaret Lorigan, widow of his former partner in the building of homes, spray of [blacked out]; Richard M. Alister, a great basket of flowers; Judge and Mrs. Ralph W. E. Donges, basket; James D[blacked out]ney, of Newark, spray of American Beauties; George Gibson, spray; Charles T. Busch, basket; William H. S[blacked out], spray; Edward J. Mulligan, spray.
Old Friends Send Tokens
[blacked out]s Margaret Ludwick and Mrs. [blacked out], spray; J. S. Haskell, wreath; Mr. and Mrs. George Lockerman, spray; Mr. and Mrs. Elmer E. Thomas, wreath; E. J. and William H. [blacked out], basket; Mr. and Mrs. Arthur [blacked out], basket; Mr. and Mrs. E. H. [blacked out], spray; Dr. and Mrs. Alexander MacAlister, basket; Mrs. Nellie Cavata, basket; Dr. Clarence Donges; Ben Maloney and John Donahue, old friends, a basket; Theodore L. Kausel, spray of American Beauties; Mr. and Mrs. Carl Dellmuth, spray; Mr. and Mrs. Charles [blacked out], spray; Mr. and Mrs. Edward Windust, basket; Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Garet, spray.
Mr. and Mrs. J. J. McArdle, basket; [blacked out] Smith, spray; Mr. and Mrs. [blacked out]; Peter Gross, spray; Mr. and Mrs. George W. Bradley, [blacked out]; Mr. and Mrs. J. J. Loughry, [blacked out]; Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Hoover, [blacked out]; Mr. and Mrs. Edward P[blacked out]nton, wreath; Mr. and Mrs. Charles Hinkel, [blacked out]; L. M. Nelson, John Weber, [blacked out]; [blacked out] Clare and A. [blacked out] Farley, [blacked out]; Mr. and Mrs. W. N. Morrow, [blacked out]
The staff employed on the Hurley estate gave as their tribute a great [blacked out] of [blacked out]. They are Walter [blacked out], E. P. Haven, Edward Grant and [blacked out] Howard. And from Mr. and Mrs. [blacked out] Mathis came a basket of [blacked out] flowers. Mathis had been Mr. Hurley’s chauffeur for many years.
Along Memory Lane: Farnham Park
Camden Courier-Post (Evening Courier) —
David R. Rose, barrister and erst-while aide to Vice-Chancellor Leaming stopped me one day this week.
“Had an odd experience in ‘Farnham Park,’” said he. “Walking along one of the paths I saw a squirrel. It came toward me, but since there were five trees between us I thought it would scurry up one of them. But it didn’t; it came directly toward me, climbed up to my shoulder and was a mighty friendly little chap.”
All of which is not unusual in the sylvan aisles of Camden’s biggest breathing spot, for the squirrels, or ground hackeys as some call them, are tame as house cats.
Spring in the Parks
What impressed Rose as much as this familiarity of the squirrel was the unusual beauty of the park, even now with spring as varying in her moods as ever Tom Hood said she was over a century ago.
“Along Haddon Avenue I saw children playing, dodging autos, taking chances every minute,” said Rose. “It seemed a peculiar thing that such as these do not go a few squares away and enjoy the open, the lawns, the trees, the beauties of nature. I didn’t see a half dozen persons in the park.”
And ‘tis all true, for even in the heat of summer it is not appreciated as it should be. There are many who are as ignorant of what the park affords in fresh air and verdure as though they resided many miles away. If the park were fifty miles away autoists in particular would undoubtedly travel there for an outing. Distance lends enchantment with respect to parks as in all things else in life.
Farnham Park’s History
Farnham Park had a hectic birth at best. In fact it was the campaign issue. The purchase of “Red Hill,” its popular name then, was declared nothing less than a steal. A syndicate asking $1,100 each for 90 acres was anathematized. The Republican organization was lampooned, it was excoriated. Mayor Nowrey refused to sign the bonds. “Billy” Thompson ran the “Plaindealer” with Billy Paul as editor. Jim Fitzgerald, Charlie Schuck and I the staff. We led the crusade against the deal. And it went through with bells.
But it did seem a sorry purchase. Most of it was under water. I remember chasing bullfrogs, fishing along the banks, wallowing in the mud, scrambling through the brambles in the old days. It was wild save for the old Powell farm that had stretched over to Haddon avenue with its asparagus beds. Certainly didn’t look promising. Fortunately, Camden had a self-sacrificing and largely unappreciated servant who did see the possibilities. He was Levi Farnham, city engineer for a generation.
Visions Turned to Reality
Farnham saw what might be done. He obtained expert tips from some of the great parks of the country. Paid them personal visits. Cooper creek (that was before it had become a “river” by legislative enactment) was dredged. Banks were built, the lagoon was made, the island was planted in weeping willows, driveways were laid out, paths stretched their winding way through the fine old trees.
Camdenites awoke rather suddenly to find they had a park, one worth bragging about. If the original cost was excessive it was justified, for even a dozen years ago it could have been sold for more than twice the city paid for it. Its value now is vastly increased over that. Eventually it will be part of the Cooper River Valley Park, a miniature Wissahickon. It does require vision to see these things when they are in the making.
Now when spring does make up her [?] mind to behave, to give us what is due after the blasts of March and the weeping of April, it might be a revelation for Camdenites to see what they have in old Forest Hill, now, rightfully and deservedly called Farnham Park. Incidentally, it is a splendid memorial to the man who worked day and night, holidays and Sundays, in and out of season to develop it. I can recall Farnham trudging along from his self imposed task while others might be observing [?] holiday. Nothing more suited him than laying out more roads or paths, supervising the nursery or looking after a myriad of details that have made it all that Dave Rose says it is.
A Fortune In Trees
There are fine old oaks that cannot be bought, wondrous maples, entrancing willows with all sorts and conditions of shrubbery. Looking from the high point graced by the pagoda gives an inspiring vista of stream and lowland with a thousand varied tints in green when summer comes.
Charles Leavitt, master planner whose untimely death occurred this week, saw its possibilities even beyond what Farnham had done.
But one little experience like Dave Rose’s, tramping through the park, will do much to obtain the enthusiastic support of the citizenry to the developments now under the supervision of the County Park Commission.
Police Shakeups of Today Mild Compared to Years Ago
Camden Courier-Post —
Force Changed Every Time Political Regime of City Shifted; Larry Doran Fired for Crossing Street to Get Cinnamon Bun; Old Patrol Recalled
By BEN COURTER
(Another in a series of articles on municipal affairs and personalities of yesteryear.)
Ben Courter
In “the good old days” when Camden’s police department was just about getting under way in accordance with the amended charter of 1872, the men in the ranks were the football of politics. Even if the phrase “to the victor belongs the spoils” had not yet been coined, it was in active force. A change of administration always meant a violent shakeup in the personnel of the department.
It has been so many years since Camden has had a real political shakeup, aside from the nonpartisan movement of seven years ago, that the younger element can have no personal recollection of upheavals marking the aftermath of Democrats succeeding Republicans or vice versa. Many of the men resigned on principle, but others stood their ground and with the faithful hungry for place on the police force it was necessary to take drastic measures.
Sometimes it did not require a party turnover, for bitter factional scraps resulted in reprisals. It then fell the lot of the police committee of city council to conduct hearings. They were usually acrimonious affairs with partisans of the G. O. P. often showing more spleen than in a strict party fight. These hearings were as a rule public, attracting big crowds of opponents and advocates of the accused. The charges ranged from conduct unbecoming an officer to neglect of duty and everything between.
Sometimes the charges were altogether ridiculous, as for instance when Larry Doran, now chief of the county detectives, was accused of going out of his beat to buy a cinnamon bun. He happened to be an appointee of Mayor Joseph E. Mowrey and no one questioned Doran’s ability as a cop or of his sincerity in patrolling his beat. But the Republicans had come back into the fold some 25 years ago and it was determined Larry should get out. Thus came the charge based on someone’s discovery he had crossed the street early one morning to get a bun. No one imagined it a very heinous offense at best, but it was all in the game of politics and the finding of the police committee was a foregone conclusion.
Findings, Usually Sustained
In some instances appeals were made to higher courts, but very little came of it since the committee was considered within its power to dismiss an officer if it saw fit. All necessary was to have the report accepted by council and since that was overwhelmingly Republican the work of the committee was a mere formality. Politics continues to play an important part in the appointments of cops or firemen, but for the past six years they have been under civil service, thus affording at least a measure of protection unless there actually has been some dereliction of duty.
Even though there were the changes wrought by political and factional wars, many men withstood the storms through the years. As a matter of fact it is evident that most of the men who have been accepted as representative of the force have had little difficulty in holding down their beats.
Mention has occasionally been made of one of Camden’s most spectacular police chiefs, Samuel Dodd. When he was first appointed by Mayor Pratt in the 80’s he was in the prime of life and certainly not inclined to give quarter to anyone. But he met with his first difficulties in the race track regime with the dual police departments, when the Democratic commission appointed William A. Davis in his stead. He was reinstated in 1893 after the Republicans had gained control of the state and had abolished the commissions.
Dodd then went along without further trouble until the advent of Hatch who appointed John Foster in 1898. Dodd was born in Burlington in 1841, but came to Camden as a young shoemaker and made himself vitally important to his fellow workers. In the 80’s Camden was a shoemaking and leather center. There were over 100 factories and hundreds of persons were employed. Thus it became an important factor in politics. Dodd loomed as a mayoralty candidate. Everything was cut and dried for him to enter the field when Pratt ran in 1885, but Dodd was prevailed upon to get out of the fight with the promise of being made police chief. That was later carried into effect.
Many years Chief Dodd has been dead, but old-timers around the city hall still have a very vivid recollection of him and his long coal black whiskers, which he had a habit of yanking when under some excitement.
First Patrol Wagon
It was during Dodd’s regime Camden sported its first patrol wagon, in May of 1893. It was something of an epochal event for Camden. Men nearing middle life who then were boys vividly recall the sensation created by the appearance of the little red wagon with “Camden Patrol” painted in gold on the red sides, not forgetting the big gong near the driver’s seat. And as the high steppers speeded through the city streets with a drunk or victim of an accident that gong was everlastingly sounded until the whole populace was brought to the doors. Chief Stehr’s father, Lewis H. Stehr; Oscar Weaver, “Si” Sage and “Nitchie” Golden were the first in the department who operated that famous wagon. It was the forerunner of the automobile police patrol and ambulance put in service July 14, 19[?].
When the first patrol went into service Camden’s streets were veritable “rocky roads to Dublin.” They were paved with cobble, even Broadway, Federal street and Kaighn avenue. Only Cooper street and a part of Benson sported asphalt blocks. Hence it was the object of the driver to pick out the best route possible by using horse car or trolley tracks if possible.
It certainly was no pleasure trip to the hall for a drunk and a road of torture to any unfortunate being toted to the hospital. But even at that it was an improvement over the archaic method of taking prisoners to jail by way of a pushcart. I have already mentioned in these annals the Roman holiday such an incident furnished the kids of the generation. If John Painter or Charlie Fitzsimmons pushed a cussin’ drunk from Kaighn Point to the hall they were sure to have a yelling mob of kids at their heels. Unfortunates who were ill or injured were usually taken to the hospital in horse-drawn cabs. But of course the conveniences of today were not even dreamed about.
Lieutenant Tommie Cunningham is among the veterans on the force who recalls those days of long ago, for last Tuesday marked the thirty-sixth anniversary of his appointment to the department. Tommie has seen the department grow from less than half a hundred men to five times that number. In all that time he has pounded a beat in South Camden or had charge of a detail of men or a district as at present.
“Jake” Woodside
In recalling some of the old-timers mention must also be made of Jacob Woodside, who was appointed October 1, 1898. He hailed from the Sixth ward and was among the valiant crew who sported luxurious mustaches. He was in his later years a sergeant in the Third district. Woodside, who had many staunch friends throughout the city, died several years ago.
Then there is “Cul” Errickson who was made a cop September 15, 1898, by Mayor Hatch. He was for many years sergeant at headquarters; a big, good-natured cop, too. He has been enjoying life these several years as a pensioner up around New Egypt.
Certainly one of the most substantial members of the force was Capt. Arthur A. Stanley, who was in charge of the downtown district for many years. He was appointed by Mayor Hatch July 15, 1898. Captain Stanley was a Civil war veteran and prominently identified with the G. A. R. He has been dead for many years. His son, Milton Stanley, was a detective in the department and also at the prosecutor’s office, but for several years has been living on a farm in South Jersey.
There is another veteran of the force still in harness, George Nowrey, brother of former Mayor Nowrey, appointed by Mayor Hatch August 1, 1898. He has been a sergeant in the department for many years.
On the same day Nowrey was appointed, John Reader was made a member of the force. He, too, was a sergeant when he died several years ago. He was father of Dr. A. B. Reader and Attorney Lawrence Reader, the latter one of the most prominent young men of the city when he died during the flu epidemic in 1918. “Larry” also was a member of council from the Thirteenth ward.
Camden Cops of 32 Years Ago Valiant Crew Under ‘Sam’ Dodd
Camden Courier-Post —
By BEN COURTER
(Another of a series of articles on Camden municipal matters and personalities of yesteryear.)
One night some 40 years ago there was great ado in police headquarters. Chief Sam Dodd was talking to Patrolman John Dall in something after this wise:
“See here, John, why didn’t you make your 10 o’clock pull last night?”
“I did,” returned Dall.
“No, you didn’t,” asserted the chief.
“See here, whiskers, I tell you I did,” retorted Dall with rising umbrage.
“The tape don’t say so,” insisted Dodd.
“I tell you I did make that pull, and furthermore, whiskers, I’m not going to let any iron man make a liar of me,” said Dall with finality.
And that was the end of it with the chief stalking away yanking at his long black whiskers out there in the room where City Clerk Billie Brown now holds sway. It might be said it was a case of red whiskers talking down black whiskers, for since Chief Sam sported those of ebon hue, so did Dall chin “nannies” of somewhat sandy-reddish coloring and both wagged threateningly in the hot colloquy.
It was not long after the call system had been installed in the department and the veterans on the city beats didn’t take kindly to it. It didn’t always operate with precision and under such circumstances there was usually a tiff with Dodd. But cops like Dall didn’t give a hang for their superior then and usually told him what was on their minds.
Sometimes the sentiments were like tobasco, hot and burning. But with all his puffing and snorting and yanking of whiskers, Dodd was a pretty good sort after all, not vindictive and disinclined to cause any trouble.
Age Of Whiskers
We are printing today a somewhat ancient picture of the Camden police force, not all, but most of it as it appeared some 32 years ago. And it may readily be seen it was an age of whiskers and mustaches, for only two of those valiant members of Camden’s “finest” of the period are smooth shaven. The balance run all the way from Dodd’s famed chin adornment to dragoons, soup strainers and what today would pass for Charlie Chaplins. It was something of an anomaly for not only a cop but likewise the average man of the street to sport a smooth shaven phiz. Girls of the period put their shapely tootsies right down on any swain who didn’t have whiskers by way of full sweeping beards, burnsides, goatees, mutton chops or, at the very least, something that would pass for a mustache. So it may be seen from the very early period of adolescence it was the aim of every member of the sterner sex to coax ‘em out—that is, the blonde, black, red or whatever hue nature had colored the facial spinach-to-be.
No one on that first row but sports some hirsute adornment. On the left there is William A. Schregler, tall and somewhat rangy just after his recovery from the burglar’s shot in Cooper Hospital yard. It is “Old Schreg,” appointed March 12, 1892, who became the city’s first detective captain. Next to him is Rox Comley, a mighty popular cop in his day, and then Jules Bosch, “Schreg’s” own special pal, appointed the same day. It was Jules we have often mentioned as the first regular traffic cop with Charlie Hose at Broadway and Federal. Next is Lieut. John Foster with his coal black mustache, right beside Chief Dodd and his classic whiskers, whom Foster was soon after to supplant. Dodd wears his then familiar wide brimmed black hat, long favorite headgear of the G. A. R. veterans. The chief is looking as if he didn’t like posing before the cameraman, which he didn’t by a darn sight, as he would say. Lieut. H. Frank Pettit is next in line. Then big and brawny Harry Mines.
Mines, you must know, was, and is for the matter of that, youngest brother of the late former Sheriff Chris Mines, Fifth ward leader and Baird’s lieutenant. Harry was considered by the newspapermen the Adonis of the force; not only a strapping young man, but handsome as well. He’s still going strong, too, out at Dudley Grange park. Then there is “Ed” Hartman, stormy petrel of the force and about whom much might be said because of his complications in the political battles of years ago such as the primary battle in the Third ward where Morrisey was killed and the famous or infamous “double cross” some 20 years ago. Charlie Wilbur ends the line.
Valiant Second Line
On the second row there is Thomas Brothers, appointed April 21, 1894, and about whom we had something to say last week. Ralph Bond is the next. He was appointed about a month before. Ralph, who had done amateur circus stunts in his earlier years, was certainly one of the most popular members of the outfit and was in the thick of every activity about town. He died only last year, mourned by a great host of friends. Then comes Dall and George Kappell, who became head of a heating company. A husky man was George and his sudden end a few years ago while he was tolling the bell given the church at Townsends Inlet, where he spent the closing years of his life, came as a distinct shock. There is Si Sage at his elbow and then Eddie Hyde, former chief, who died a few weeks ago. George Selby, father of Col. George Selby, now assistant state prison keeper, is next, with E. B. McClong ending the line. McClong was long chief clerk of the department.
First in the third row is Ed Powell with John Sinclair, now in the water department, second, and seemingly looking but little older after all these years. William Laird follows with Ben Middleton, one of the Pratt appointees of ‘86 next. Who do you suppose the next one is? None other than Alfred L. Sayers, long after street commissioner and now banker. Outside of getting a little stouter, “Allie” is going Sinclair a good race in retaining his old time appearance, except there now is no mustache. John Anderson, son of William Anderson, the “Tall Sycamore of the Seventh,” is next in line.
The elder Anderson came from the same county in Ireland as former Senator Baird and there was warm friendship between the two. William Butts, the first colored policeman appointed to the force, is next and old timers have a very kindly remembrance of him. He was gentlemanly, courteous and a credit to his race. Then we have John Painter, about whom much has been said, but all too little at that. John, we will remind you, is the oldest living member of the force, having been named a cop June 30, 1883. But it is only creeping years and not his spirit that makes him the veteran he is. Frank Matlack, who was appointed March 12, 1892, is next. Surely everybody downtown recalls him as Tom Brother’s side kick on traffic duty at Broadway and the “avenue.”
Another good colored cop, the second appointed to the force, starts the fourth row. He was William Hicks who could sing at camp meetings down there in the cedar woods until he had ‘em all howling. Albert Haydon, the second in line, later entered the fire department and he died but a couple of weeks ago. Abe Jackson, the third, was a Sixth warder, a cop of the old school who didn’t know the meaning of fear. It was his real delight to tackle the roughs and toughs who sometimes invaded Camden in the race track days. Then we have “Al” Shaw, whose father, Edward H. Shaw, was one of the city’s first marshals and whose son, “Lew,” is now a city detective. “Al,” with Tom Griscom, a veteran iron worker, visits city hall every day in the year just for old time’s sake, for Shaw has been pensioned since 1917. Edward Steen, long superintendent of the New Camden Cemetery, is next, with Sam Bakely and Al Meyer at the end of that line.
Record As Chief
As to the fifth row there is “Cale” Williams, with Charlie Lederman, one of the first regular hall officers. Then there is E. A. Gravenor, who later served the longest term as chief of the department, from the death of Foster in 1906 to the advent of Hyde in 1922. Tom Buchanan is third and Samuel Cox comes next, with William Horner, who had been appointed on April 13, 1880. He has long since been dead. Godfrey Eisenhardt, the next, was the baker boy rescued from the burning ferryboat, New Jersey, in the winter of 1856. Harry Curtis, to his left, was long after a detective of the P. R. R.
The one on the end of that row is somewhat in doubt as to identity. “Linc” James thought it might be George Johnson, but Lew Lee says it is John Barnett. Perhaps some old-timer may remember.
Casper Hart, who was later to die from injuries received in a fall from the patrol wagon, starts the sixth and last row. His was a familiar figure in the Fifth ward years ago. Then comes Charlie Fitzsimmons, of whom we have already spoken. Then Captain James, these many years at headquarters and another of the old-timers seemingly keeping ahead of Father Time. He supplied much of the information about his fellow cops of long ago, along with Frank Albright. Oscar Weaver is next to him, with Charles Ridgeley, William Fish, son of the city’s famed city gardener, Jacob Fish, and George Cooper ending the array. George, by the way, is still hale and hearty, and possessed of that great voice that used to boom over the wire from headquarters.
Most of these men have passed on but they have left records, as a rule, which the cops of the younger generation may well emulate. A cop, you know, is somewhat in the category of a school teacher. When the younger generation comes in contact with them they are inclined to regard them a bit too strict, but with mellowing years there is altogether a different impression with most of them being placed on pedestals.
There were other policemen of the period the picture was taken who didn’t happen to get to the hall in time for this photo, which Tom Stanger, now at detective headquarters and then a traveling salesman, well recalls being taken. Something will be said of these missing ones next week.
Four Prominent Physicians
Camden Courier-Post —
Reminiscences of Drs. Godfrey, Iszard, Davis and Gross, All Leaders of Their Profession in South Jersey
SINCE these annals of medical men in Camden county have appeared, other residents have occasionally asserted this or that physician, their family doctor half a century ago, has been forgotten,
“What’s the matter with Doc So-and-So?” they have asked, and they have usually added, “He was the best doctor in typhoid” or whatever ailment was probably cured in their own particular household. The particular physician’s victory over a malady which prolonged the life of some kin has evidently been handed down through the years as such an outstanding accomplishment that if monuments were in order it is unquestioned Camden would be liberally sprinkled with them. It likewise is certain that when family physicians were more the order of the day in lieu of the present tendency to develop specialists, the medical man’s clientele stuck to him through two or three generations and usually placed him on a figurative pedestal at least.
Doctor of 50 Years Ago
Fifty years ago one of the city’s leading physicians was Dr. E. L. B. Godfrey, whose office then was at 621 North Second Street. He was born in Cape May, February 2, 1850. After graduating at the Hightstown Institute, he took up the study of medicine with Dr. E. L. B. Wales, at Cape May.
Later he entered Jefferson College, graduating in 1875, serving his term as intern at the Rhode Island Hospital, Providence. He reached here the next year and immediately became one of the most active men of his profession, being on the surgical staff when Cooper Hospital was opened in 1887. He also was lecturer on fractures at the Medico-Chi Hospital in Philadelphia, was major and surgeon of the Sixth Regiment, National Guard, served as president of both the city and county societies and contributed authoritative papers to medical journals.
One of the early county physicians of Camden was Dr. William H. Iszard, a native of Gloucester County, where he was born in 1842. In 1862 he entered the service of the government as a medical cadet, being stationed at the hospital on Broad Street, Philadelphia, entering Jefferson College the following year. He was considerably hampered through ill health, but after much interruption graduated in 1870. He first located at Elmer, but soon afterward came here and opened an office at 411 North Fourth Street, where he practiced for many years. He was active in political work, being one of the first presidents of the Camden Republican Club, which long had its headquarters on Cooper Street above Third, and where many of the national figures in the party were occasional guests. He not only was welcome to any sick room but popular about town because of his affability and general all-around good fellowship. William H. Iszard, the realty man and prominent Elk, is a surviving son. Dr. Iszard died a couple of years ago in his eighties, mourned by many an old-timer.
Dr. H. H. Davis
Contemporary with him was Dr. Henry H. Davis, whose name is still identified with all that means health protection for Camden’s school children. For a generation he was either identified with the Board of Health as its president or the schools as chief medical officer. It was he who was largely responsible for rules guarding young pupils in public schools.
Prior to his activities not much attention was paid to ailing youngsters. If they had poor eyesight they were just as liable to be seated far from the blackboard, if their record put them in that position. Not much attention was paid to the cause of their backwardness and if they couldn’t see the figures the teacher placed on the board failure was laid to natural dumbness. Not much attention was paid to chronic sore throats, bad teeth or other imperfections, but when Dr. Davis was placed in full charge of the schools he changed all that and children who have passed through the classes in the past quarter of a century owe much to this veteran medical man whom fate ordained should be killed by an auto in his eightieth year. It was through his efforts clinics were established where poor eyesight might be corrected and other deficiencies looked after by the hospitals or dental men.
Dr. Davis was born at Crosswicks, August 16, 1848, and became a student of pharmacy in the office of Dr. Alexander Mecray in 1867, entering Jefferson College in the fall of that year. He graduated two years later, courses then being half of the present requirements, and began practice here. For many years he had his office at Third Street and Kaighn Avenue. Two young men whose preceptor he was, Dr. Harry Jarrett and Dr. Rowland I. Haines, afterwards ranked among Camden’s leading physicians. Dr. Davis was active in the county society, was a former coroner and for many years identified with many of the city’s activities.
Dr. Onan B. Gross
Arch Street at one time was among Camden’s leading residential thoroughfares, although in these days, with most of the old dwellings either gone or in a state of dilapidation that perhaps would be difficult to believe. Half a century ago some of the city’s best known professional men resided there, among them Dr. Onan B. Gross, who had his office at 407 Arch Street. In later years he was located at Seventh and Federal Streets.
Dr. Gross was a native of Ephrata, Pa., where he was born February 19, 1851. He entered Ephrata Academy but when he was 17 he was thrown on his own resources and apprenticed as a carpenter. He served his time and worked as a journeyman, but he sought a medical career. Through hard work and rigid economy he saved enough to enter the University of Pennsylvania in 1875, graduating three years later. His ability was recognized even then for he was assistant demonstrator in anatomy in the last two years of his course, the first time such an honor had been given one not yet a graduate. In the year of his graduation he received a prize for skill in dissection work.
Dr. Gross was county physician three years, president of the county society, a surgeon at Cooper Hospital, member of the board of managers of the City Dispensary and identified with the various medical groups of the period.
An Early Camden Druggist
Camden Courier-Post —
Dr. Armstrong Had Large Clientele in North Camden; Dr. William Taylor Emulated Livingston as Medical Missionary to Dark Continent
(Another in a series of articles on Camden affairs and personalities of yesteryear.)
By BEN COURTER
IT IS rather surprising the interest many old-timers have taken in brief sketches of physicians of yesteryear which have appeared in this column. While apparently the vast majority have either forgotten or never heard of those who eased the aches and pains of humanity hereabouts half a century or more ago there still are those who have very vivid memories of the “family doctors,” who were considered not only in a professional capacity but as valued advisers and tried and true friends in other things than medicine.
BEN COURTER
So about the time it might be considered opportune to switch over to some other subject of the days that were, someone comes along and says, “How about Dr. So-and-so, you haven’t forgotten him, have you?” As a matter of fact it hasn’t been forgetfulness so much as a very apparent erroneous impression that the particular doctor probably is recalled by few. Which reminds me that recently a sketch was written of Dr. John W. Snowden, one of the pioneers in the lower end of the county and the first in the little town of Hammonton. The conclusion had just been reached that certainly none recalled him when Allen Hughes, our radio editor, told me the kin of “Bob” MacDougall, one-time cherished newspaper confrere, down in Waterford, certainly remembered him and valued the revival of the memory of one who had been as familiar to them as the old Blue Anchor road.
It showed that while memorials in some concrete way may not have been reared as tributes to these faithful family doctors they certainly are not forgotten.
Dr. James Armstrong
Thus there has been a reminder of Dr. James A. Armstrong, whose drug stores on Federal street above Third, and later at 309 Market street, were known to Camdenites of more than 60 years ago. That was a period, of course, before the advent of the daily newspapers, of the horse cars, of electric lights, phones and other conveniences long since accepted as commonplace. Arch, or Plum street as it then was known, still was one of the popular residential thoroughfares, with the early business places just getting their foothold and the public market established in 1856 in Third street, opposite where the Courier-Post building now is located, still attracting housewives with produce direct from the farms and city dressed meats.
Dr. Armstrong was a native of Philadelphia, where he was born June 12, 1835. Graduating from the Philadelphia High School, he obtained a diploma on completing his course at the Philadelphia College of Pharmacy in 1855. He graduated as a physician from the University of Pennsylvania in 1861 and as was the case with many young physicians of the period, entered the Union army, being appointed assistant surgeon in a Pennsylvania regiment. He served with the army of the Potomac in Virginia and after three years’ duty returned to Philadelphia, where he was a surgeon at the Saterlee Hospital.
At the close of the war he bought the drug store at Third and Federal streets, but after several years he relinquished the business and began the active practice of medicine, having a large clientele in the upper section of the city. He was coroner in 1871, was surgical examiner for pensions and when the U. S. Board was established here in 1884 he was made one of the three members. He died, suddenly, from apoplexy, on October 30, 1885, being survived by a widow and three daughters.
Dr. Wm. G. Taylor
It is likely that few recall Dr. William G. Taylor, who, in a sense, emulated the example of Dr. David Livingstone as a medical missionary to Africa. While he was born in Philadelphia in 1851, the son of Dr. and Mrs. R. G. Taylor, he received his early education in the schools of this city.
When he was 17 he entered the drugstore of Joseph Riley, spent two years in the Philadelphia College of Pharmacy and was graduated from Jefferson Medical College in 1873. He was one of the visiting physicians at the Camden Dispensary which, opening in 1867, did splendid service until the opening of Cooper hospital 20 years later.
But Dr. Taylor had his mind on work in the then Dark Continent, for he had been preparing under the Presbyterian Board of Foreign Missions, and on June 11, 1873, he left New York for Africa. He was assigned to the station at Gaboon, on the west coast, and it was his duty to visit the depots between that place and Benita, some 100 miles or so. That was a period when Africa was considered just a vast realm of mystery, of cannibals, of ferocious beasts, of deadly fevers, long before its great possibilities had started European powers in the skirmish to grab immense parcels by right of oftimes shady exploration. It was such men as Dr. Taylor who sowed the first feeble seeds which have developed into modern sanitation and other agencies slowly but effectively winning the continent from dread contagion, savagery and primitive conditions—conditions dating back perhaps to the time when the great Sahara was an inland sea.
He used to relate his pilgrimages, usually made from station to station in the open sea and by means of an open boat 5½ feet by 26 feet long, propelled by the sinewy arms of natives or by sails. Virulent fevers felled villagers, often appeared in endemic form, and he worked courageously, himself becoming a frequent victim. His health was so impaired he was forced to abandon his life’s work, returned after two years of great hardship and self sacrifice and died April 8, 1877, not quite 26 years old. His body lies in Evergreen cemetery.
Frequent Battles for City Clerk
Camden Courier-Post —
FROM AN OLD CITY DIRECTORY
Yellowed Volume of Half Century Ago Revives Memory of Bradshaw Regime, Persistency of Squire Fred Tarr to Land Clerkship and Treasurer Michellon
(Another in a series of articles on Camden affairs and personalities of yesteryear.)
By BEN COURTER
AN OLD city directory is seemingly lacking in inspiration, at least to one who may casually turn the yellowing pages. There is but the interminable list of names, addresses and occupations, of “ads” of business and industrial enterprises, most of which have been forgotten long since, some few surviving, fewer still going strong, having developed into concerns known nationally.
BEN COURTER
Sometime since City Clerk Frank S. Albright dug up from the archives such a directory, not too old to be interesting to many who have resided here through many years. It was published just half a century ago and contains approximately 15,000 names, the great majority of whom must necessarily have passed the Great Divide. Evidently it did not list Camden’s entire population of that period for the census of 1880 gives a total of 41,659, but in that comparatively far off day, far off at least to the present younger generation, heads of households were given without the names of wives, if they happened to be married. It is likewise evident that those who gathered the data skipped many a house so that the whole population of Camden is by no means represented.
Old-Time Officials Listed
But care was used in one particular, to list the officials who then guided the destinies of the state, the county and the city. It may be imagined that very few are still “in our midst,” none of those who held the important offices, for most of them were then men in their middle years, many well along toward the allotted three score and ten.
If there is more or less displeasure in this year of grace 1932 on the part of taxpayers over the new City Hall, its cost and its location, principally due to the jolt of the slump following on the heels of unparalleled prosperity, the half century-old directory revives memories to old timers of a somewhat analogous situation with respect to the municipal pile on Haddon avenue. While it had been reared on ground donated by Jesse W. Starr, the ironmaster of Camden, in 1871, and belatedly accepted in 1874, it was not until December of 1875 that City Council held its first session. And it was considered far away from the beaten track, “put in the cornfield,” where the wiseacres of the period were certain the confines of the city never would reach.
This old directory shows that Claudius W. Bradshaw was mayor of Camden in 1881. He was then 46 years old and resided at 532 South Second street. Mayor Bradshaw was one of the most active figures in Camden’s affairs, was a wood-turner by trade, had served as chief of the fire department, was city marshal and in 1873 was elected councilman-at-large under the amendment to the city charter. That office was created to break deadlocks in council, which all too frequently tied up city affairs prior to that time. And at that period Council had been unable to organize since there were 12 each of Democrats and Republicans.
Bradshaw’s integrity and sincerity resulted in his election to the mayoralty post in 1880 over B. F. Archer by the slim majority of 41. He was re-elected in 1883 by 972, but three years later Jesse Pratt, Republican of the Eighth Ward, defeated him by a margin of 1768, apparently in one of those turnovers not unusual in American cities. But Mayor Bradshaw was held in high esteem and to this day mention his name to those who knew him and they will go into superlatives to impress one with his integrity and square dealing.
Squire Fred W. Tarr
Those who recall Squire Frederick W. Tarr, of the Third Ward, mayor’s clerk when the directory was printed, will tell you he was about the most persistent candidate for city clerk so far as Camden records go.
Tarr started after that job back in 1872 when he was elected over Joseph C. Nichols, who had held the office since 1869, by 13 to 12 vote of council. But in 1873 Nichols turned the tables and was winner by 14 to 11 for Tarr. The next year Tarr won by a vote over Nichols, but that nip and tuck game ended in November of that year when Nichols resigned to become deputy under Sheriff Jacob Daubman. Joseph Bontemps was elected to fill the vacancy, was re-elected 14 to 11 over Tarr in 1873, and the following year the presistent Tarr won over Bontemps by 13 to 11. Frank F. Michellon, who was later to become treasurer, beat Tarr in 1877 by 15 to 9 and again in 1878 by 17 to 8. Tarr, a Democrat like Bradshaw, was popular and highly regarded by his own and those of opposite political faith. In later years he became one of the widely-known squires of Camden when that office meant something, when domestic and other rows were amicably settled in their offices. He was a tailor by trade.
So far as the records of 1881 go, Michellon is shown to have defeated John J. Welsh 15 to 10. Richard C. Thompson, Camden’s seventeenth city clerk, beat Michellon in 1882, by 14 to 11, and he was re-elected in 1883 by 15 to 8 to Nichols, who had returned to the field after nearly a decade. D. Cooper Carman, who was to become one of the Republican leaders in the city, defeated R. C. Thompson in 1884, John D. Courter in 1885 and was elected unanimously in 1886. Michellon, by the way, was elected city treasurer in 1884 and Thompson was made supervisor of highways.
Michellon and Plug Hat
Michellon was a gentleman of the old school in everything that term implies. He was a neat dresser and when, on occasion, he wore his high silk tile his was a figure which attracted attention. He was a fine-appearing man, his flowing side whiskers, then not so conspicuous as they would be in these days of a nation of shaved faces, adding to his rather commanding presence. Many there are who yet recall Frank Michellon with unquestioned fond recollection.
Born in Philadelphia in 1844, his paternal ancestry dating back to France, the family came to Camden in 1844, where the father was for many years cashier of the old Kaighn Point Ferry Company. The son in his boyhood became clerk in the hardware store of Henry B. Wilson, later entered the office of “Uncle Peter” Voorhees, one of Camden’s best known lawyers of that time, and then learned conveyancing, but politics interested him from his early years and as narrated he was repeatedly honored by the Republican party. He was succeeded as city treasurer by Colonel George D. Felton, whose unfortunate death at the beginning of this century shocked the community.
More memories from the old directory will be revived in another article.
The Young Syndicate
Camden Courier-Post —
FROM AN OLD DIRECTORY
‘Coop’ Carman and Willard Morgan Led Movement for New Blood in G.O.P. Culminating in Bitter Battles of Race Track Days
Second in a new series of articles on Camden affairs and personalities of yesteryear inspired by a 50-year-old directory.
By BEN COURTER
Allusion to officials of Camden half a century ago has brought a flood of memories to older residents and particularly those interested in the political game—the great American game. While the directory of 1882 speaks of Richard C. Thompson holding the office of city clerk, mention of whom was made last week, it also was stated that D. Cooper Carman had held the office from 1884 until his death in 1889, at the early age of 35 years. It is Carman’s name which has revived in the minds of veteran political workers his activity and that of the “young syndicate,” which had concluded, as is the case in all organizations, it was time for old stagers to step aside for those of more youthful years.
BEN COURTER
Carman had been elected to city council in the Spring election of 1882 from the Fourth Ward, his home then being at Broadway and Federal street, where the Munger & Long building now stands. But his election was contested by Frederick M. Bourquin and Carman did not serve. Two years later he was again elected, at the same time appointed city clerk, and this resulted in another contest in which the court laid down the dictum that a member of council could not vote for himself for public office. “Coop,” as he was known to his familiars, promptly resigned from Council and was promptly elected city clerk.
The ‘Young Syndicate’
With Carman, as former City Clerk William D. Brown recalls, was associated J. Willard Morgan and Henry M. Snyder, something of a balance between the two.
That combination carried things along pretty much as they pleased for a time and as one of the developments Maurice A. Rogers, down in the Fifth Ward and a councilman, was taken up as a Senatorial candidate against Colonel George Pfeiffer, Jr., a decade later to be the builder of Camden’s artesian water plant. The colonel, long one of Camden’s most popular men, had defeated the Republicans as a result of the factional fight between Henry L. Bonsall, editor of the Post, and Thomas Dudley, famed consul to Liverpool during Civil War days. But with the “young syndicate” back of him, Rogers won the Senate seat in 1890, taking his office January 1, 1891.
But in the meanwhile Carman suddenly died at his mother’s home, at 11.10 on the night of September 11, 1889. At the time apoplexy was given as the cause. His sudden demise caused a profound shock and at his funeral four days later leaders in business and politics paid homage, with such men as Gen. William J. Sewell, Sinnickson Chew, Howard Carrow, Wilson Jenkins, E. A. Armstrong, B. M. Braker and many others attending. The bell in the old City Hall tower tolled as the cortege passed on the way to old Camden cemetery. And even yet, after these more than four decades, “Coop” Carman is quite vividly recalled by those who were then active on the political stage.
Carman’s Death Big Loss
Carman’s death was a big loss to the “young syndicate,” but it did not halt its activity. Since Rogers had won so easily in the 1890 election it was concluded there would be nothing to it when he was renominated for another two-year term. Rogers was by no means friendly to “Billy” Thompson’s race track, then in the heyday of its popularity with the sports of Gloucester City, a period when that community had all the earmarks of a wild and wooly western city, attractive to thousands of lovers of horseflesh, touts, gamblers and the usual hangers-on.
Thompson concluded it would be far better to have someone in the Senate from Camden county who would regard his interests with more favor than Rogers.
Thus he decided on Frederick A. Rex, his personal counsel, a very able young attorney, and a Republican. Since at that time the Democratic police commission was in control of the cops it was considered easy to get possession of the polls. As Brown recalls it, the rivals of Rogers planned a “zero hour” at which cops, at the crack of a pistol, were to descend on polls considered close at the primaries, frighten off the regular voters and corral enough to elect Rex.
Particular effort was to be made to sweep the Sixth Ward, where Thad Varney, elected city clerk to succeed Carman, was “boss,” and thus give him a political black eye. In Varney’s precinct in particular when the rumpus started “Brockie” Deno and “Al” Haydon, both widely known firemen now dead, grabbed the ballot box, lowered it down a chimney, fished it out when the racket was passed, went to Avis’ livery stable, and later to Varney’s home, where the votes were counted. In these sophisticated days such counting would unquestionably not be considered “according to Hoyle,” but then anything went just so the particular faction had its bag of tricks in effective operation. Anyhow, Rogers won the primaries, but there still was the general election to hurdle and Thompson was by no means beaten. He had plenty of money and many followers, some sincere, many just sycophants.
Repeaters Foiled
It was charged a scheme was on foot to bring repeaters from Philadelphia, not an unusual procedure in the political game of Camden years ago in either party. One of the “young syndicate’s” lieutenants learned the plot, told General Sewell, who sent the informant to Dave Martin, then Philadelphia’s political boss, who heard the story. The upshot was General Sewell himself saw Martin later, who was quite willing to aid Jersey’s G.O.P. leader, flooded Camden with sleuths from over the river and such close tabs were kept on the repeating army its efforts were halted from the very dawn of that very stirring election day. Rogers was elected, was made president of the Senate and for a time loomed so large on Jersey’s political horizon he had gubernatorial aspirations, but they never were realized.
Thus out of the old yellowed book Frank Albright, city clerk of the present epoch, dug from the archives memories are revived of a very gallant young politician, “Coop” Carman, and some of the stirring incidents that make up Camden’s political history. The “young syndicate” was just one of the episodes, as the first “reform” outbreak in 1882, or the Committee of 100 scrap of 1897, or the Non-Partisan upheaval of ‘23, but such never lose interest to those who have joined those movements with enthusiasm, even though they were often not altogether satisfied with what had been accomplished.
City Clerks of Long Ago
Camden Courier-Post —
FROM AN OLD DIRECTORY
Old Records at Hall Show Men Prominent in Camden Affairs Eager to Hold Job—Publisher First Elected by Council in 1828
(This is the third of a new series on Camden personalities and affairs of yesteryear as inspired by a city directory of half century ago.)
By BEN COURTER
IF Camden’s early city clerks returned in the flesh they would be altogether flabbergasted should they visit that office as it is now operated in the tall white building which overshadows the more beautiful, more classic court house. The indexing, cross-indexing and thoroughly modern methods necessary for any large corporation, public or private, would surely be a revelation, but like as not, as all ghosts of the past would say, “the old times were better,” even though it were not necessary to compile shelves and shelves of records.
BEN COURTER
The early clerks, even though they may have regarded themselves “some punkins” in the community, by reason of holding a sort of a municipal secretarial job, were not given to bothering much about filing and compiling and congesting whatever small space they must have had in the city hall, which once graced the spot where Public Service now has its office, with records.
Since something has been said of the city clerks just before and after the period of the old directory of 1882, there has been a request that municipal archives be delved into further before this subject is passed. There is in City Clerk Frank Albright’s office the first minute book of Council, somewhat yellowed but still in good shape and the handwritings of the men who “clerked” the municipal body legible as the day the minutes were written.
Ellis First City Clerk
Samuel Ellis, printer and publisher of the American Star, was evidently the first to hold that position, since his name is attached to some of the minutes while others do not bear any signature. Ellis was a former schoolmaster and his paper was a Whig organ first issued April 17, 1821.
He changed the name to “American Star and Rural Record” on December 29, 1824, and was still owner with his brother, Charles H. Ellis, in 1830, for whom former Mayor and now Postmaster Ellis was named. Ellis acted as clerk from March 13, 1828, until the Autumn following when William H. Butler, a cabinet maker, was elected in March, 1829, and he served until November, 1830, when he was succeeded by Thomas Green, and he by Samuel Miller, who continued in office until August, 1831.
One of Camden’s leading Whigs was elected by Council as Miller’s successor on March 15, 1832, and he served until June 29, 1843. He was another early Camden journalist, being associated with John Wollohan in publishing a Whig newspaper while roundly lambasted their political foes. Thomas H. Dudley, of whom frequent mention has been made in these annals as consul to Liverpool and one of the city’s leading men for many a year, succeeded Harrison and served as clerk until March, 1844. It was Dudley who prepared the city charter of 1851 and later served as city solicitor and treasurer. When he was elected clerk he was a young lawyer and an active Whig and, when the Republican party was formed in 1856, became one of the leaders.
Thomas Mulford, who succeeded Dudley in 1844, also was a lawyer, but an active Democrat. He was elected to the State Senate in 1851 and was a Democratic candidate for Congress in 1854 against Clawson, Whig and Native American, and Hazelton, Independent. Whigs were still strong here then and Clawson won. He was county prosecutor from that year until 1859 and old records show he filled that job ably enough to win even the favor of his political opponents.
Judge Alfred Hugg
In 1850, when Mulford’s term as clerk expired, his brother, Philip, likewise a lawyer, sought the job, but was defeated by Alfred Hugg, who was later to hold twice the position as city solicitor and also a Common Pleas Court judgeship. Judge Hugg still is recalled as a mighty peppy gentleman of many years, with long flowing white beard, as boon companion about the festive board, and possessed of marvelous vitality for one of his age. Nor did disease or decay spell the end, for it was escaping gas in his apartment which caused his death.
Hugg was a Democrat and he was defeated for re-election as clerk by Joseph Myers, an American, in March, 1851, by a vote of 9 to 6 in Council. Myers was quite popular so much so that he was his party’s candidate for mayor in 1854 but was defeated. He was elected county clerk in 1857, dying before the expiration of his term. He served as city clerk until 1856, when Hugg again was elected by a 10 to 8 vote, but lost the next year to William J. Miller by 11 to 6. In 1858 Alexander H. Hammell got the job by 10 to 8. Samuel W. Thoman, a Republican-American, was victor over Hammell the next year. He was one of the most popular of city clerks and in 1860 was re-elected without opposition and in 1861, but in 1862 John M. Barber put up an unsuccessful fight against him. Thoman served without opposition until 1866, when veterans of the Civil War first made themselves felt as a factor to be reckoned with in political circles.
Civil War Vets to Fore
Joseph C. Nichols had won distinction on the field of battle in the great struggle of North and South. In that year of 1866 the Republican caucus had decided unanimously to return Thoman to the clerkship, but the leaders had failed to reckon with the change of times. When Council held its annual meeting with everything cut and dried for Clerk Thoman, recognized for his ability and with his popularity unmarred, a petition was presented signed by veterans and many Republican leaders and chieftains demanding Nichols fill the post as just compensation for a very gallant soldier. That was when the “blue line” was strong and thriving, not the very “thin line” of survivors we have today and it was a force to be reckoned with, for expediency’s sake as well as sentiment. So Nichols broke the caucus and he was elected over Thoman by 10 to 7.
Democrats trotted out one of their veterans of the war in 1868 in Capt. William H. Stickney, but only seven votes were mustered for him and Nichols was re-elected. There was no opposition to him in 1869-70, but in 1871 Squire Frederick Tarr entered the field, but Nichols still was too strong.
He beat the Squire 13 to 7. And of other clerks, including Tarr’s activities, the record was given in the first of this series of articles down to the term of D. Cooper Carman from 1884 to 1889.
In another article something will be said of clerks in the past forty years.
‘Bob’ Turner Dies; Camden Old Timer
Camden Courier-Post —
Restaurateur Passes
Picturesque Restaurant Proprietor a Figure in City’s History
ROBERT TURNER
By BEN COURTER
“Bob” Turner is dead!
A lingering illness last night claimed Camden’s most popular restaurateur, at his home, 210-212 Federal street. He was 58 and had been ill since March 1.
He died in sleep, having been in a coma for one week. At his bedside, were his widow, Mrs. Mary Turner, his daughter, Mrs. Helen Becker; his son-in-law, Patrolman Herman Becker, and a brother, Frank. Two sisters and a grandson, Robert Dean also survive.
Funeral services will be at 11 a. m. Monday at the Joseph H. Murray & Sons home, 408 Cooper street. Burial will be private. Friends will be received there Sunday night.
Robert Turner was just plain “Bob” to a great host of friends and acquaintances who had known him through the years. First his father and then he had operated the oyster “saloon” and restaurant on Federal street. It was “Bob” to many of these friends who had risen to exalted positions in life as it was to those of more humbler station who kept up their patronage with him through the more than half century the restaurant has been something of a landmark where, prior to the advent of Camden bridge, thousands passed daily to and from the ferry.
Bob’s father, Fred Turner, born in England, came to America in 1860. It was in 1886 the father started the small restaurant on Federal street just above Second. At first it was just a small front room of a very little store. Later there was a reception room and place for eating meals. With the Pennsylvania Railroad terminal, roundhouse and other departments of the West Jersey nearby it was natural the railroad men with a liking for good home cooking and especially oysters, should patronize the Turner place. In the early nineties, too, there were the young students of the new high school in the old Post-Telegram building who likewise flocked to the Turner place. Thus it became the most popular restaurant of its kind in North Camden with business constantly growing.
Took Job As Cabby
When “Bob” was a youth he obtained a temporary job as a cabby, driving a horse from the Federal street ferry to wherever the fare might happen to want to go, and sometimes it was a long trip out “in the country,” down Broadway, then Camden’s “Main street” or perhaps to Stockton Park, or even Gloucester where the ponies were then running. But the elder Turner, having close acquaintanceship with the railroaders, obtained for “Bob” a job in the freight office which he held until he concluded he had learned enough to start a career as a commission man. “Bob,” associated with his father, had learned much about oysters and shipments along with other data essential in making the venture into the commission business more or less a success.
Before the Spanish War came in 1898 the elder Turner died and “Bob” concluded to continue the business. It was still a very small venture and remained so until about twenty years ago when the patronage had grown to such an extent the little place on Federal street was entirely too small, especially at mid-day when workers went to lunch and at night after folks had left the theatre and concluded they wanted a snack before going to bed. That little restaurant is well remembered by the Camdenites of a score of years ago. Even then it was noted as a place where many of the town’s active spirits frequently met to discuss all sorts of things over a stew, a fry or whatnot.
In 1913 two of the old dwellings on Federal street were renovated and turned into the “oyster parlor” which has become known to persons throughout South Jersey. “Bob” was fortunate in having as his wife a women [sic] who realized the possibilities of the business, for after all it was Mrs. Turner who, in the early days, personally supervised all the preparations and the turning out of the finished product that brought patronage and success as a business enterprise.
‘Bob’ Widely Known
Aside from his oyster business, “Bob” Turner was one of the best known men about town and had been for a generation at least. He was actively interested in baseball and particularly in the teams which sought to stir sufficient pride hereabouts to support some sort of a league club. He also was one of the backers and supporters of basketball and later was a sponsor for the wrestling matches when few would bother about that line of sport.
When James J. Davis, now U. S. senator from Pennsylvania, came here 20 years or more ago to found Camden Lodge of Moose, “Bob” was associated with Ralph W. E. Donges, now Supreme Court Justice; William H. Ketler, city librarian; William Callingham and other leading lights of the community in getting the organization under way. It was a great night for “Bob” when Camden Lodge was started in the building at Third and Market streets. He had in later years been associated with Justice Donges as a member of the board of directors of Camden Lodge Building & Loan Association. In addition to the Moose, “Bob” also was a charter member of Camden Lodge of Elks, where he was active years ago. He likewise took a deep interest in the Eagles and was identified with other organizations.
When fortune had begun to smile “Bob” and Mrs. Turner took occasional long trips to rest up, once abroad and several times to Florida or California. Usually they spent the closed oyster season at Atlantic City.
Both Bob and his place have been unquestioned institutions about Federal street for many years and certainly without “Bob” walking along with “Hazard,” his English bull dog, and greeting acquaintances with a hearty, “Hello, Frank,” or whoever it might be — well, it will not be just like Federal street at all. Bob with his breezy, cheery, hail-fellow-well-met spirit, sure will be missed by the old-timers at least.
Raid of McLaughlin's Flats
Camden Courier-Post —
Descent on Hangout of Hoboes and Routing of Tattered, Cussin’, Woozy Individuals Suggestive of Chasing Rats From Sewer
“McLAUGHLIN’S FLATS? Well, it’s a long time since I heard of ‘the flats’ and I doubt if a handful who now reside down around Third and Spruce streets recall them, at least as they used to be.”
NOTE: “McLaughlin’s Flats” were at 257–259 Spruce Street.
And Harry Kobus, grandson of Anthony Kobus who founded Camden’s oldest shoe store back in the 50’s, around Fourth and Spruce, was quite right. Harry is by no means yet in what may be called the “venerable class” and yet he has known old south Camden and that particular neighborhood even when “the flats” were blooming in all their glory. And as we talked about that notorious hangout for hoboes, tinkers, men and women who sought surcease from vain regrets in Gambrinus’ brew, which flourished in a malodorous way a quarter of a century ago, recollection was revived of one particularly sore spot when it came to the moral and temperance forces of Camden.
It likewise brought vividly to mind a visit with Captain Arthur Stanley and a squad of cops to “the flats” in an effective clean-up ordered by Mayor Ellis. It was one of those episodes suggestive of a Dickens narrative or of Burke and his Limehouse classics, one of which was done in the movies by Griffith. Originally “the flats” were conceived some 50 years ago with the idea of providing rooms or apartments for the middle class families down that way. There still resided along Pine, Spruce, Division and from Front to Broadway many of the families who had come from England, Ireland or Germany and they formed the bulwark of the old Middle Ward.
Down-and-Outers Hangout
A Jimmie McLaughlin [266 Spruce Street in 1872], I have been told, was the builder, but his plans did not seem to go through with all the success he had anticipated, whatever the case may have been “the flats” 40 years ago had become the rendezvous of the down and outers. There might be found David and Sarah Valliere who were known to the police as the king and queen of the hoboes, and they are recalled as frequenters of the police court when “Joe” Nowrey and Glen Stackhouse presided over that tribunal. It was difficult to discern anything even remotely suggestive of regal bearing on the part of these two whose main object in life seemed to be to find some liquid refreshment that likely transformed the flats for the time being into something of a palace, with minions joining in the celebration until there was the usual windup by way of a free for all and battered heads. These celebrators often made “the flats” a fearful place to visit, at least on the part of those who were unaware such a place existed in the city.
Incidentally, it was just opposite the flats, at the southeast corner of Third and Spruce streets, where Spence R. Darr [William Spenser Darr], a popular colored justice of the peace, was murdered in the early 80’s by a white man summoned for wife beating. The slayer blew out his own brains and thus saved the county the expense of trial. Darr was given one of the largest funerals South Camden ever witnessed with leading men, both white and colored, as honorary pallbearers. While that had nothing to do with the flats it was one of the stirring episodes of the now long ago which had bearing on the subsequent clean-up staged by Captain Stanley, a veteran of the Civil War and one of the most conscientious men who ever wore the uniform of the Camden police.
Raid by Stanley
It was a typically gray day in November, it is recalled, when Captain Stanley announced he was going to clean up the notorious flats and with the youthful enthusiasm of a young reporter I went along to see the fun. It seemed fun then, but in the mellowing years it reveals itself altogether tragic rather than humorous.
When the Captain and his squad arrived they found the two-story rambling structure fully occupied, mostly by the characters well known to the police as regulars. Never quite completed and innocent of any paint the boards were broken or rotted, many of the windows broken but in the small darkened rooms were the usually besotted individuals who seemed to regard it as home. When they found the cops were there to turn them out there was a temporary inclination to revolt with much muttering and much cussing, but they were yanked out bodily and as a rule their meager belongings were thrown after them as they wandered about in the stableyard below. There were some unfortunate children along with the horde, but Captain Stanley had been told to clean up “the flats” and he did it as might be expected of an old Civil War vet bent on obeying orders. It was much like a sewer being emptied of its rodent population, a smelly, disagreeable business but quite effective.
It was there that not only the Vallieres, but likewise Ellen Develin and her own Bill Dade had their hangout, the “boiled shirt” hero who was reputed to have been once wealthy, but who had fallen on evil fortune.
He always managed to have a white shirt and was something of a retainer of the Vallieres and shined especially one winter night at the city hall when he led a revolt against cleaning the snow from the sidewalks at the order of Superintendent James Brown, long since retired and now apparently chipper as ever in his 80’s down there in the Sixth ward. It was the man with the boiled shirt who led the hoboes out into the storm rather than work at the brooms and shovels to gain a night’s lodging in the fearsome tramp cellar at the city jail. And if anyone desired to see the dregs of humanity it was in that cellar where fights were frequent, sometimes knifings, the yells and curses taking Bill Schregler or Eddie Hyde or whoever might be on duty down into the shambles suggestive of a den of beasts rather than humans. And most of them were habitues of “the flats.”
After the raid, McLaughlin’s flats were relatively clean of their hobo tenants, at least for a time. Some disappeared from the picture entirely, others continued their periodic appearance in police court but with the coming of the war the Down-and-Out Club, as the newspapermen of the period dubbed it, evidently went the way of all flesh. So they and “the flats” have been forgotten.
When G.O.P. Battled G.O.P.
Camden Courier-Post —
Typical Convention Rumpus Stirred ‘Regular’ and ‘True’ Republicans as Gibbs and Morgan Were Nominated for Sheriff in ’81
Rival factions in the political conventions of long ago were more bitter toward one another than toward the common foe. So-called “rump” conventions were by no means exceptions. By “rump” was meant merely those who refused to play with the regulars and who set up the nominations, as did the Bull Moose on the national scale in the historic scrap of 1912 which resulted in the three-cornered battle of Wilson, Roosevelt and Taft, giving the Princeton professor the start that was to make him a world figure. Factions we still have, of course, and it is quite proper, since too much regularity often breeds party decay. But present-day political methods are certainly lacking in the spectacular rumpuses that stirred the rank and file in the period when delegates met and made their nominations.
In a recent article allusion was made to the Democratic convention of September 20, 1878, when Nathan T. Stratton, of Millville, was nominated for Congress by the Democrats in the midst of downright fisticuffs, when “liar” and “hypocrite” and worse was hurled about the hall.
Lest it may be assumed the party of Jefferson and Jackson only was given to such methods, it is fitting to give a picture on the other side of the political house. Dr. William H. Iszard’s inexhaustible scrap book, loaned me by his son, former Assemblyman Iszard, comes across with a copy of a tabloid political sheet, “The True Republican,” which gives a recital of a battle royal in the G.O.P. ranks which will be of interest to some old-timers I know are still about.
Rival Conventions
That was the convention to nominate a sheriff called at Gloucester City Hall on Saturday, October 8, 1881, where we find the redoubtable Colonel James Matlack Scovel once more a moving factor, but this time in the ranks of the “regular Republicans” or at least so they called themselves as opposed to the “rump” set up by a rival group. Christopher J. Mines, long Fifth Ward leader and later sheriff, apparently had been selected as temporary chairman with William A. Husted, who died last year well in his 70’s, as secretary. But when that part of the delegation marched up to city hall, like the famed king’s horses—they marched down again.
As a matter of fact, not much marching was done in the hall—for it was asserted by the “true Republicans” that when they essayed to enter the portals they found Colonel Scovel and Henry M. Jewett, father of Harry Jewett, a Camden newspaperman of the long ago and for years later Jersey editor of the Inquirer, in command. More, it was charged “people representing the worst elements of society” were on guard and presented a phalanx which even the huskies of the opposing force could not break. Mines was strong-armed by the minions of Scovel and Jewett and there was so much hooting and yelling and cussin’ that the “true” part of the outfit walked out, all 29 of them, over to Moss’ hall where they proceeded to carry on their convention to their own taste.
And all 29 of these valiant Republicans voted for Eli B. Morgan as their candidate for sheriff. You old timers will be interested in recalling these delegates who refused to kowtow to “Colonel Jim.” In the Third ward there was James M. Lane, Charles S. Cotting and George Martin; in the Fourth, Husted; the Sixth, C. C. Smith, Thad Varney, Charles A. Sawyer; in the Seventh, Stephen Walters, Charles Lederman, William Simpson; in Gloucester, John W. Wright, David Anderson, Frank Mills, Robert Lafferty, Richard Allen, Jesse Daisey, Samuel Wood; in Haddon, Charles M. Macready, Elwood J. Haines; in Delaware, William Brick, William Graff, Isaac Coles; in Merchantville, Matthias Homer, William Naylor; and in Center, James Davis, Garrett Patton and Gilbert Shaw.
Hot Statement
These “true Republicans” in a statement to the party rank and file, under the Algeresque title of “Now or Never,” scathingly said: “It becomes the duty of every Republican voter of Camden county, who has the future interest of the party at heart, to administer a severe and lasting rebuke to all candidates who employ the element and encourage the means that were used in controlling the Sheriff’s convention at City Hall, Gloucester City. It discounted anything within the memory of the oldest Democrat inhabitant. What with Col. Joseph Nichols urging the crowd to go elsewhere and nominate Gibbs, and the immaculate Billy Warner of the Fifth ward ordering them to burst the door in, coupled with the commanding voice of that great patriot and life-long Republican, James M. Scovel, alias Mountain Partridge, together with the curses and threats from John Furey, Jack Quigley, Pud Young, Bill Derr, ‘Tar Heel’ Jim Hayes, the able city solicitor, and a gang of Philadelphia roughs, a beautiful spectacle was presented.”
The “Gibbs” mentioned was Theodore B. Gibbs who long lived in the white mansion on the banks of Clementon lake and whose ancient grist mills ground the grain for farmers from miles around. None in the county was held in higher esteem and in later years most of the valiant 29 were among his closest friends, unnecessary proof the political animosities are, as a rule, not very enduring. Gibbs was nominated by the “regular” Convention which ousted the 29 and a mighty hot shrievalty campaign ended on November 10 with his election, in spite of the “now or never” demand of his opponents headed by Eli Morgan.
The latter was a real estate man, son of Randall Morgan, elected sheriff by a whisker over “Ham” Bitten in 1869, and brother of J. Willard Morgan, long a Republican chieftain. It was the elder Morgan who defeated Bitten, a rough and ready character nominated as a joke, by a narrow squeak.
In the shrievalty scrap of 1881, Gibbs received 5,381 and Morgan, 1,189. Angus Cameron, the Democratic candidate was given 4,450 votes. Nor did the “true” nominees for coroner fare any better. Sam Bennett, William Thompson and Alexander Powell being defeated by “Doc” John D. Leckner, Jacob Justice and William Duble.
But the “true” Republicans licked their wounds and most of them were ready to “yen their heads off” when Colonel Scovel in later campaigns made the welkin ring with his call from the rostrum to wallop the enemy. If you now come across any of the few actors of that period still in the flesh an allusion to that “spectacle” of half century ago will sure bring one big chuckle with the declaration “them was the days.”
A City of the Dead
Camden Courier-Post —
A City of the Dead
Burial Place Where Thousands Lie Started More Than 80 Years Ago Along Blackwoodtown Pike; Tragic Death of First President of Evergreen
BY BEN COURTER
About this time of year fair Spring puts over all that expanse extending from just below Vanhook street along Blackwoodtown pike, now Black Horse, down to Ferry avenue and up to near Chase street, new raiment.
Sere spots become emerald, trees lose their bareness, shrubbery fills out and there is a rejuvenation as if to prove, after all, that thousands sleeping there, some since the middle of last century, are part of the immortal plan everywhere manifest.
In June comes the great display. Nowhere does there seem a spot where there are more roses. There is one great splash of red, from tiny, delicate tea roses, to glorious American beauties. Vagrant daisies vie with coreopsis; humble violets snuggle in hidden places; ubiquitous dandelions spangle what greensward is left. Few remaining pines or cedars put on a greener livery, oaks shake off the sered leaves of yesteryear and catkins of poplars already have given place to permanent foliage. Amidst it all are the white stones marking the places where lie many of the men and women who took part in the affairs of Camden and its suburbs. There are the humble markers of a myriad of citizens, the monuments of the more exalted, the graves of those who fell in the Civil War, the Spanish War, the World War. Evergreen Cemetery may not be a Stokes Poges, yet a Thomas Gray could write an “elegy” none the less.
A Rooty Sidewalk
Boys of another generation will tell you, beside the tombs and the quiet bordered walks, they recall that torturous path alongside the fence where the roots of the great maples used to find their way. They crept through the year through the sand and stone and successive rains left them exposed until many a bared toe of an urchin on his way to Tice’s Pond or Daubman’s Pond at Northmont was stubbed until it looked like a bit of mincemeat. And many a wayfarer stumbled over those roots, considered an abomination along the sandy road where the young bloods of another day tried out their nags. The concrete Belgian block paving now seems a straitjacket for that old road to the side of the cemetery, a fitting marker to the passing of old days.
Centreville had just about been launched when Evergreen Cemetery was incorporated, on Feb. 20, 1850, the 32 acres of ground being bought of the Isaac Cooper estate. Those early incorporators were William J. Hatch, Benjamin A. Hammell, Richard W. Howell, Joseph J. Hatch and Benjamin Browning, all men of substance back there when the Civil War was brewing. William Hatch was the first president, holding that position until his tragic death, on March 22, 1856, when he was killed by a trespasser on his land, as was a kinsman many years after. He was succeeded by Charles Sloan, then by Cooper Browning and again by Thomas A. Wilson, long one of Camden’s leading men and whose grandchildren now reside within shadow of the old burial place in Woodlynne.
In April of 1850 J. C. Sidney was instructed to build the chapel and vault, while Henry Gamble’s design for laying out the cemetery was accepted.
The first application for a grave was made by Benjamin A. Hammell, one of the incorporators and twice mayor of Camden, in 1848–49 and 1857–58. That was in May of 1850 and was for the reinterment of his daughter, who had died in 1835 at 2 years of age. Years afterward he was buried in the same plot, just northeast of the chapel. A marble slab marked the resting place of Richard Fetters, one of early Camden’s leading men, and his wife, Hope, who died Oct. 18, 1839. There, too, is the grave of John Hanna, once postmaster of Camden, who died April 7, 1862, while the great Civil War was raging.
Other Family Plots
There one may find the family plot of C. A. Bergen, once Congressman from this district, and Mayor John H. Jones, who died suddenly while in office, on Oct. 27, 1876, is buried there, as is Dr. Thomas F. Cullen, who died Nov. 21, 1877, one of the best-known surgeons in this section 60 years ago.
It was in Evergreen that Comrades of the G. A. R. used to make their most spectacular showing on Memorial Day, when the Posts hereabouts were in the heyday of their strength, when the veterans were still about like those of the World War in point of years. They went out there early in the morning, held their exercises, sounded taps and planted flags over every grave. Those ranks have become thin with the passing years and but a handful survive, all over the fourscore-year mark, but still with spirit undimmed. Spanish-American War vets used to aid as now do those of the more recent conflict, but it is certain that those who fought at Fredericksburg or Chancellorsville or Gettysburg will not be forgotten when Memorial Day dawns this year—or in years stretching into the future. That little spot about Post 37 monument ever seems more than ordinarily sacred to one who knew those vets back there, 20 or 30 years ago.
Most of the old oaks or maples or pines have disappeared. Frank Garrison, who has been superintendent for several years, is replacing those monarchs. Still, it is unlikely the cemetery ever will quite have that suggestion of a bit of wilderness plucked out of the primordial forest it did when the roots of the giants, like vagrant things of steel, pushed their way through the sandstone back there ever so many years ago. Old Evergreen is a city of the dead to be sure, and yet to countless families hereabouts there is something of a link permanent as eternity itself. There are locked up memories that will abide always; there, as many speed by in modern gas buggies, are dropped thoughts for those who once trod the earth, who once walked with us, who once aided the community in its uncharted destiny.
Centreville's Schools
Camden Courier-Post —
Early Problem Was Getting the Youngsters In The Classrooms; Reminiscences of Professor C. K. Middleton
WHEN Centreville became a part of Camden in 1871, the progressive men of the city were struggling with the public school problem. It is now mainly one of finance, because of the so-called readjustment period which has hit civic and private activities. Then it was a question of “getting organized.” The city’s population was around 21,000, its children of school age being more than one-third. But that didn’t mean all were attending school.
Times were not so good and two years later was to come the now much-discussed “panic of 1873.” So, while there were approximately 8,000 children of school age, the board of education census shows there were 3,819 who were in the schools with 74 teachers to give them the rudiments of education.
It was likewise shown in a survey that the balance of the boys and girls were working in mills and factories, then a family economic necessity since the heads of families received very little for their work and every penny counted.
The child labor law was a long way off. Children in their early teens usually worked 10 hours a day and six days a week for the munificent sum of $2. Some apprentices didn’t get a cent, some as high as $1.50 a week and they thought they were fortunate in learning to be a machinist, a carpenter, a shoemaker or what not. Boys came home mighty weary, but with the energy of youth they refused to let that interfere with play at nights, in winter sledding and skating to get up 5 or 6 o’clock the next morning all set for another grind. The “good old days” weren’t so wonderful after all.
Early Schools Built
Centreville’s colored population was larger than the white. So a school for the youth of that race was provided on Ferry Avenue. The board of education, with David Rittenhouse president, and William Figner secretary, sought to look after the needs of the children and in 1875, by passage of a special act of the legislature, Camden was given authority to borrow $30,000 to build three schools. One of these was the John W. Mickle School, on Fillmore Street, the other two being the Isaac Mulford and Richard Fetters Schools, named after men prominent in Camden’s affairs for many years and factors in developing the public school system. The brown stone buildings were built by Mayberry E. Harden, one of the city’s leading contractors of the time, and a former member of the school board. The Mickle School in particular was a boon to Centreville.
The late Charles K. Middleton was one of the first principals. He is recalled in much later years as one of the “profs” of the first manual training and high school, when it was launched in 1891 at 125 Federal Street. Students called him “fossils” because he had a penchant for talking about the early periods of the earth’s history. Many of these same students long afterward realized what a fine teacher Middleton really was, what a thirst he developed in a relatively few thoughtful youths for things worthwhile. One may visualize him now, with what the present generation would call a “soup strainer” mustache, sitting on the edge of the desk and seemingly forgetful of his surroundings as he told of great monsters that once roamed the Jersey flats, of the glacial period and a lot of what seemed mighty dry material to a bunch of anxious kids ready to get out and romp.
When the Centennial year rolled around an impetus was given public education. Camden did its part by way of an exhibition that won prizes as well as much praise. James M. Cassady, then the board’s president, was active in many civic matters and one who wielded the best possible influence in ‘getting under way’ what had been called the new era.
C. K. Evered School
By 1877, when James R. Carson became president, Centreville had grown so that it was decided to build another school for the white children.
The C. K. Evered School was built on Ferry Avenue at Seventh. It was named after the son of Joseph G. Evered and brother of Carl Evered, now a widely-known realty man. Charles was ill but had taken a great interest in school affairs of Centreville. So they named the school for him and it became a memorial, since he died soon afterward. The elder Evered came here from Chicago, shortly after the great fire, was an expert jeweler and resided at 1711 Broadway.
At Ninth Street, the Charles Sumner School was built for colored children, providing much better accommodation than the little makeshift place that was torn down two years ago to make way for the recreation house and park which had been left uncompleted because of the lack of funds. A new Sumner School was reared north of Van Hook Street. It is one of the city’s most modern places of public instruction.
Annexes also were built at the Mickle School while for those in the extreme southern section, the “hill” district, there is the Henry B. Wilson School. That was named for the former postmaster, a Republican leader and a leading business man of Camden. He was father of Admiral Henry B. Wilson and Philip S. Wilson, banker.
So Centreville, as the Eighth Ward has gone along with the rest of the city in looking after children’s education, topped off with courses at the high school, a luxury their fathers and grandfathers never dreamed about. There are probably as many children in that district now as there were in the entire city of Camden when Centreville was annexed to the larger community 62 years ago.
Dr. William H. Pratt, son of Jesse Pratt, mayor from 1886 to 1892, was one of the boys in the early school days of Centreville. In addition to giving some sidelights on that period he says Merritt Beckett, appointed by his father, and not William Butts, was the first colored policeman on the Camden force. He was a tall, thin cop, a familiar figure in the late 90’s in that district.
Old Centreville Families
Camden Courier-Post —
Dr. Donges, Mills, Schepperkotter, Covely and Other Men Wrought Through Years to Bring Needed Improvements to District
WHEN a larger community annexes an adjoining district the newer area is generally regarded, for a time at least, as a step-child. Older residents of East Camden will bear out that truism when they recall how difficult it was to obtain improvements. Years before, Newton Township which became part of Camden, had had the same experience. Under such circumstances, it requires tireless energy on the part of leading men to get what their district needs. Demands often go unheeded unless the community is fortunate in having those of spirit who insist on street improvements, water extension, lighting facilities and schools. That was more in evidence half a century ago than now, of course, for Camden itself was little more than a large village.
Down in Centreville there were men who looked after the interests of their constituents, who slowly but surely obtained improvements and who insisted on being recognized by the powers that be. No one may think of old Centreville without thought of Dr. John W. Donges, whose value to not only that section but Camden at large, has been expatiated upon in these annals. He was not only a leading physician, with a practice extending into Camden, but a leader in many civic movements, and any article on that era would be incomplete without allusion again to the doctor whose services as a real family physician are part of the traditions of many old families.
Came Here In 1872
He came here in 1872 from Schuylkill County, Pennsylvania, when his health was affected by overwork through loyalty to his patients. He bought the drugstore at Ferry Avenue and Broadway, remaining there for many years. It was there Supreme Court Justice Ralph W. E. Donges spent his boyhood.
There, too, Dr. Clarence B. Donges and Attorney Raymond Donges were boys. Grant E. Kirk, clerk in his store, later becoming a physician and for several years a member of council and at one time being prominently boomed for mayor, married their sister. Dr. Donges was elected to council in 1878 on the Democratic ticket, itself an evidence of the high regard in which he was held, for the Eighth Ward generally was rock-ribbed Republican. Until the early part of this century he resided in his old place, but later went to Broadway and Clinton Streets. In later years, after he had retired, he was city assessor, “just to keep busy.” He died a few years ago, well in his 80s, mourned by a great host of Camdenites.
There was another widely known Centreville family of the old days, that of Samuel Mills, who had his own abattoir at Broadway and Jackson Street, where city-dressed meats were provided before the days of car refrigeration brought supplies from the great packing places in Chicago. His son, Charlie, was long a member of the Board of Education, while another, William, was a city councilman. Edward Mills, another son, was excise commissioner 35 years ago in the days when there was plenty of trouble with Sunday sellers.
Cornelius Schepperkotter was a factor in politics down that way, too, having a grocery store on Ferry Avenue at Ninth, later moving to the southwest corner when the Charles Sumner School was built. That school was torn down two years ago for the recreation center. Schepperkotter was a member of the old Board of Public Instruction in the late 90’s, named by Mayor Cooper B. Hatch. In later years and until his death, he was superintendent of Evergreen Cemetery. He was father of Mrs. Frank S. Albright, wife of City Clerk Albright.
Frank Covely
Shortly after the New York shipyard was opened, there moved to the “Hill” Frank D. L. Covely, who became a joiner and for years was foreman of the joiner shop. He was widely known as a secret society man and also as an effective campaign speaker for the G. O. P. He was a member of the Board of Education.
He sought to go to council, but that was at the time Kirk was a power in the ward. Covely laughingly used to tell of a meeting all set for him from which all save the colored folk were drawn away through strategy of his party opponents. But for ten years he was a member of the Board of Recreation Commissioners.
That movement owed much to his work. Nor did he forget his colored friends, for he had a playground established for them at Ferry Avenue and Phillips Street and the large one [Staley Park] at Seventh and Jefferson streets. Long afterward that was named for another city official, but Covely’s friends said it should have been for him, as a monument to his services for the boys and girls of Centreville. He died a few years ago at Bellmawr in his 70s, after a hectic experience as a chicken raiser at Port Norris.
There, too, was William Dorrell, superintendent of the old “Narrow Gauge” who was one of the leading spirits in the paving of Broadway, nearly 60 years ago the big issue of that section. He lived in a house along the railroad still standing, as the hospital and dispensary of the shipyard.
Mention has been made of the Ferrises, the Helmbolds, the Yeagers, of Squire James D. Chester and Squire F. Joseph Rouh. There was also William O. Thompson, the leading contractor down that way for many years and Theodore Tiedeken, who established the wagon works on Van Hook Street, Martin Ewe, who had the hotel at Broadway and Emerald, and down the street a bit James Croker, who operated Tammany Hall. Forty years ago there was one of the best young athletes of the city, Thomas Nicholas, now retired Camden fire chief. He was down in old No. 3 with Bill Rose, long a fire captain, Bill Miller, Al James, Sam Lodge, Gus Dold and John Ware.
Many of these old timers have passed on, but others are still in the flesh but scattered to all parts of the city but it may be said the survivors look back on the days that were down there in Centreville with an interest that does not dim with the passing years.
A False Alarm of Long Ago
Camden Courier-Post —
Spectacular Run of Firemen and Steeds in ’79 When First Alarm System Was Given Try-out
THERE were two alarms of fire Saturday evening, one at Fourth and Hamilton streets at 8:29 o’clock, and another at the West Jersey Ferry, an hour later. People in the vicinity of the first-named place turned out to look at the machines propelled at lightning speed by snorting equines, and wondered what it was all about; and some of them thought the wide-awake fire boys were beside themselves, as they asked, for the particular house, in the neighborhood of box 24 upon which, with steam up, their apparatus was able to put on the water. The firemen and people were quietly informed by a party that drove away in a barouche that it was a designed deception.
Under date of October 6, 1879, that was the introduction to a two-column story under a display headline. But it was, a single line—“False Alarms.”
Readers of the period must have been as much mystified as were the firemen and citizens mentioned in the article, for it was not until more than half a column had been devoted to that incident that the public was let into the great secret. It was a test of the first fire alarm system introduced into Camden.
Interest in that incident is revived by the city commissioners last week entering into a contract with that same concern to install in the new City Hall a system for somewhat more than $51,000. That first “system” cost the city $2,000 but it was a big sum then and just about 10 times more space was devoted to it in the old Post than in the Courier-Post last Thursday week.
Paid Department 10 Years Old
Camden’s paid fire department in 1879 was just 10 years old. It already was winning approval of even the recalcitrants, who had asserted back in 1869, that the old volunteer companies would certainly be missed; that the “professionals” would not have as much interest in putting out a fire as the boys who ran with the Perseverance, the Weccacoe and other organizations, usually bitter rivals. Not infrequently the volunteers battled over hooking up their hose while the fire burned, an event by no means outgrown since that occasionally happens even now, as files of the newspapers prove.
But on that Saturday night 54 years ago, it developed that those who drove away in the mysterious barouche were J. W. Morgan, Crawford Miller and F. P. Pfeiffer, fire commissioners of city council, along with R. S. Bender and Thomas Beatty. They were but carrying out orders to see that the system worked and it was John T. Bottomley who issued those orders. He was Camden’s big mill owner but more to the purpose in that particular incident, president of city Council. He had approved the fire alarm system but did not intend putting his O. K. on that $2,000 bill until he had seen it in practical operation.
So unknown to the firemen, and the citizens as well, it was determined to test that system by way of turning in the alarms. So an alarm was pulled at 8:29 and “Bart” Bonsall, son of Henry L. Bonsall, publisher of the Post, narrates, in just 15 seconds flat the bell was sounded at No. 1 Engine House at Fourth and Pine Streets. In two minutes hose cart No. 1 went bounding out with Driver George Hunt at the reins, followed by Ben Cavanaugh and his faithful nag “Jim” with cart No. 2. Then came Jake Kellum and William Davies with the engine No. 2 drawn by “Dolly” in 2:45. After that was engine No. 1 driven by Edmund Shaw and the horse “Alec,” coming along in 3 minutes and 5 seconds. It was explained Shaw was held up by the sandy roadway at Fourth and Line.
Spectacular Sight
Anyhow, it must have been a great sight for the old-time families who then resided along the Middle Ward streets as the racing steeds bounded over Fourth Street, then into Third over a mighty bumpy roadway.
But they arrived and vainly sought the blaze. It was while they were hunting that the barouche came along and the commissioners let them into the great secret. “Bart” doesn’t relate what the firemen said about the false alarm, but, like as not the heat of their expressions was a good substitution for the fire they failed to find.
The system was one of those nine-day wonders that had the town on its toes. Everybody listened for the alarms in those days, for when they were sent in the bells in the fire houses pealed the number of the box. The strokes could be heard surprisingly far. Since there were but 11 boxes it was not long before many knew just where the fire was located and made a bee line for the scene. Old volunteers, particularly, never quite lost their interest in fires and, whenever they heard the alarm, hot footed it to the scene of excitement.
That was all right when Camden was little more than a village, but as the community grew it became a serious proposition, since the racing citizens often interfered with the firemen. Thus about 30 years ago the fire bells were silenced. Now none know of an alarm coming in save the various houses and the Courier-Post which has a wire attached from headquarters bringing in the alarms so that reporters and cameramen may get on the scene quickly as possible.
Ordinarily, little thought is given to the need for instant and accurate sounding of an alarm made possible through the expert work of City Electrician Jim Howell and his aides. If it were not for that perfection and the speed with which firemen reach the scene the losses would be large. And the insurance companies would be around with a “pink slip” as they were some 20 years ago. That meant a 25 percent addition to fire rates. Camden’s motorized department plus the work of City Electrician John W. Kelly soon rid the city of that “slip.”
That system of long ago didn’t include the cops. Now it takes in both departments, as it has done since the days of Chief Samuel Dodd, back in the early 90’s.
On Keeping Chimneys Clean
Camden Courier-Post —
First Act of Camden City Council, Over Century Ago, Was to Cut Down Fire Hazard By Way of Ordinance for ‘Sweeps’
COMPARING Camden’s fire-fighting equipment of today with what the city had when it was incorporated, 103 years ago, the wonder is that some of the fires did not wipe out the tiny community. With their pumpers, chemicals and water mains, the average suburban town is protected like a metropolis when we consider the methods in vogue a century ago.
Fire ever has been man’s most implacable foe, and even yet it is merely a matter of degree—from barbarian ancestors and their rude thatched shacks, to modern skyscraper as to the terror it inspires. Camden, in the late 20s of the last century, was merely a clutter of tiny dwellings, only the more prosperous citizenry such as the Coopers and Kaighns having brick domiciles graced with attics.
It was thus in keeping with the times to have thought first for safety from the fire demon when City Council held its first session, April 11, 1828. That was by way of an ordinance directed against those inclined to be careless and let their chimneys collect through the years a great mass of soot. There were those who kept their chimneys clean as the proverbial whistle, first, so the fire would draw, and again to remove the fire hazard. But many, apparently, took pot luck and let things go with little thought of what might happen until it did—oft-times in the dead of night with long tongues of flames wiping out their humble domicile.
Wood Exclusively Used
Electricity was little more than the mysterious force Ben Franklin had toyed with over the Delaware. Coal still was to be brought from its carboniferous beds in Pennsylvania. It had not even been proposed as “stones that would burn and give heat.” Oil came from whales and such and was used sparingly on new fangled mysteries called machinery. So the thick clumps of trees hereabout were hewed down for heat in winter and to cook the meals. It was that constant use of wood that filled the chimneys with soot and soot evidently was most of the cause of fire.
When a fire started in Camden village it was a serious affair. If it wasn’t caught in the nick of time the house burned to the ground. So council passed its first ordinance to help the boys of old Perseverance in keeping down the fire record although in those days there were no records kept, of course. That first company, by the way, was on Second Street above Market, about where the National State Bank first built. The little frame shack was still there in the 70’s when the bank enlarged its building and tore it down, the company meanwhile having taken its quarters to Third Street.
But getting back to the ordinance of council, it required the thorough sweeping of every chimney at least once in three months. If a sweep tried the short cut to earning his money by burning out a chimney he was fined $1 because that method was declared to endanger surrounding property. The sweep was supposed to get into the chimney or at least sweep it in regulation fashion and not “cut corners,” as some persons have a habit of doing whether it’s sweeping chimneys or building a house.
That part of the ordinance is interesting for it provides “that if any person from or after the first day of May next, ensuing, shall burn his, her or their chimney, or suffer the same to burn or blaze out of the top thereof, unless the roof of the house thereof is covered with snow, or during the time of a storm of rain or snow, every such person shall forfeit and pay the sum of one dollar.” If a chimney should take fire the house owner was required to prove that it had been properly swept out within three months.
Further, it was provided if such a chimney burst into flame after it had been swept out the chimney sweep was to forfeit a dollar. That evidently was due to the determination of Laning, Cowperthwaite, Sloan and Lawrence, the city fathers, to make more and better chimney sweeps and to aid the Perseverance boys in staying the ravages of the flaming foe.
Outstanding Fireman
And if any of the boys of the present generation imagine they have the niftiest apparatus hereabouts, with all their compound engines, extension ladders and what not, they have nothing on Samuel D. Elfreth, who “ran” with old Perseverance so soon as he came to Camden, in 1824. Old annals relate he was always on the spot when “she” was needed, meaning the hand engine, and was regarded as the outstanding fireman of Camden. In 1882 my grandfather wrote in the Courier that Elfreth, although verging on 80, was then still one of the most active volunteer firemen in Camden. He then resided within the shadow of his beloved old company and was filled with reminiscences of the days when he ran with the boys. His son, Samuel (S. Elfreth), then was chief of the paid fire department as he was in later years until his death some 15 years ago. Charles F. Elfreth, a veteran attache of the city’s finance department, is a grandson of the first Elfreth, a nephew of the late chief.
Those old ordinances relative to keeping chimneys clean seem amusing now, but they were vitally important then. They were, in fact, the very beginning of the present day system of keeping down fire losses by way of every possible method in alarms, in equipment, in man efficiency. It is from such humble beginnings that have evolved the methods in battling blazes in skyscrapers, in extensive plants, in keeping tabs on the very last thing in conquering the foe ever ready, and seemingly willing, to raze the works of man.
Along Memory Lane
Camden Courier-Post —
Some Old Hall Familiars
Crumbling City Building Brings to Mind Many Who Once Took Active Part in Affairs of Camden and Spirited Political Scraps
By BEN COURTER
Walk along Haddon avenue these days of old City Hall destruction with veterans in politics like Fred W. George or Charlie Elfreth or Frank Fithian and they will tell you they can see in memory’s eye a veritable host who once trod the corridor, rapidly crumbling away. One doesn’t need to be a sentimentalist to stop for a space in the midst of hat [sic] is left of the once proud municipal pile to bring to mind for the moment some who once took an active part in the city’s affairs, who had their partisan fights and who were as a rule, “good fellows.”
Of course, those who composed Camden’s official family back in ’74 when the corner stone was laid have passed on. Boys like Joe Kobus or Dr. D. Louis Ireton who saw the corner stone laying are now men well along life’s journey and they too have memories of the Hall through the many years. Mayor John H. Jones, as related in a previous article, died the year the Hall was started. He was succeeded by John Morgan who served a year. Then came James W. Ayres, Claudius W. Bradshaw, Jesse W. Pratt, J. Leighton Wescott and Cooper B. Hatch, all of whom have died. The surviving mayors who once held forth in the office at the southwest corner are Joseph E. Nowrey, Charles H. Ellis, Frank H. Vanhart, Victor King, General Winfield S. Price. With the advent of Mayor Roy Stewart quarters were taken in the great stone pile at Sixth and Market.
The City Clerks
Joseph C. Nicholls was city clerk when the Hall was started, succeeded by Joseph Bontemps, Fred W. Tarr, Frank F. Michellon, Richard C. Thompson, D. Cooper Carman, Thad P. Varney, Morris Odell and William D. Brown, all of whom have died. The survivors are Colonel Harry C. Kramer, now at Washington, Isaac V. Bradley, “Al” White and Frank S. Albright, the last of the clerks in the old building and now happily with us in the new structure.
But there were scores more who were familiar figures in the nearly two generations that have passed. One expects to see, for instance, Levi Farnham, city engineer for nearly two score years, come tramping out of the wrecked corridor to make his way to see how Farnham Park is progressing. There is sure to be memories of the hearty laugh of “Pete” Young, who was Varney’s assistant, and like as not there will be heard the gruff note from “old” Colonel Sam Hufty, “watchdog of the treasury for many a year and a job his father held before him. One can see, too, George A. Frey, long city treasurer who was quite rightfully proud when the experts, who made the survey in 1923, reported that of the more than $18,000,000 he handled every penny was accounted for.
And surely passing what is left of what used to be the police department one can hear the hearty laughs of “Bill” Schregler or Jules Bosch or the pestering gasps of poor old Cale Williams who had the asthma and whose difficulties in getting calls under the new fangled signal system were rather tragic. Captain Hugh Boyle had a better time of it in getting those calls and so did Jimmie Tatem, later chief and now retired. Looking in the old police room one can see the domino game of 35 years ago going on with Schreg and Billy Husted, Dan Hassett or John Courter, Jimmie Polk, Frank Albright or Billy Paul interested as if it was a huge staked poker game. Peculiarly enough the uplifters of the time never fussed about that domino game, which, after all, was played to while away the late hours of night until something turned up.
The Old Health Board
Across the way were Gene Roberts, the perennial secretary of the old Board of Health; Henry B. Francis, the “admiral” who fought with Farragut, or Joe Starr, who did his part in rounding up the property owners to get the Line Ditch swamp filled in and graded. Of all that board only Reuben Gaskill survives. Dr. John F. Leavitt, many years health physician, is living in retirement.
Up in the Council Chamber, now virtually gone, old-timers will tell you they can yet hear Fred Finkelday in a brush with Joe Potter, the later of the councilman-at-large, or the booming voice of John Broome bringing order out of chaos. John’s brother, Howard, by the way, was for a time an efficient water engineer who died at the early age of 35 of pneumonia. His son is now secretary to Mayor Stewart.
Theer [sic] was the ill-fated George Felton, treasurer, who ended his life; Billy Doyle and J. Fred Newton, William Osler, Water Chief Hollingsworth, John McCabe, Constantine Scout and Larry King, all quite kindly recalled by many who pass the crumbling old Hall. One wonders what City Gardeners “Uncle Jake” Fish or John Schilke would say with their lawn all awry these days of destruction, a lawn they worked early and late to keep green throughout the Summer. Most of these have passed as the Hall is passing and even after the wreckers have finished their job who doubts but that the plot changed into a breathing spot along the Seventh street boulevard will not continue to have these memories to the older residents of Camden?