The Passaic
We'll start at the Great Falls. In Paterson off I 80. James Madison brought George Washington here to impress him, and after the war formed the Society for Establishing Useful Manufactures to exploit its power. The planned city of brick mills and canals would later become the Silk City, the downtown architecture above street level is a catalog of that era. A park on Garret Mountain overlooks the valley of manufactures and neighborhoods where the Passaic makes a big arc to the northeast before heading south. An imported castle stands as testament to that prosperity part way up the mountain, soccer fields on top fill with teams on a bright September afternoon.
Two packet boats once regularly connected Paterson to Newark, their economies, architecture, and family histories intertwined. In many ways the valley may be the heart of north Jersey, crowded, confusing as a winding river and surrounding ridges shape a roadscape with no clear definition of one town to the next. You can't always turn where you want, get on or get off where you want. Business blocks here, a small park there, churches, small manufactures and larger, new and old, homes of all types, materials, and ages, food of all persuasions. All that shapes generations and the business of living. Ask a Jerseyan where they're from, as likely the answer's one of these towns and cities, not what exit. I'd follow a friend, the artist Hoop and master of the side street short-cut, and never knew where we were, nor once we arrived how we got there. You'll never be able to drive like a native. He's from Clifton. Always.
So let's stop by a few spots.
There's a break in the western ridge that allows routes 3 & 46 to pass, just before 46 splits to go up to Little Ferry and on to the George Washington Bridge. Route 3 continues to the Lincoln Tunnel. It's one of those overgrown New Jersey divided highways with no median grass. Tall apartments surmount the ridges, gas stations, quick food, shopping plazas and newer malls line the road. Traffic changes lanes quickly and often. But tucked below the ridge, where you might only catch a glimpse of the bright red neon "Great Notch Inn" in the darkness, sits a small log cabin in a wide dirt lot. It was here when the road was dirt too, on a lonely stretch, the last pit stop before the woods on the way to a family's vacation in the lakes. It has a porch to sit on. Bikers like it to watch their machines. Blues except Tuesday, more or less. Big Rich is third generation, and he never goes to Manhattan for talent. Why would he, where do you think those musicians live? Some have played here 20 years.
For different fare try Holsten's Brookdale Confectionery at the crossroads of Watchung Avenue and Broad Street near the park. The fountain counter fills with schoolboys in the afternoon, the booths with regulars at noon-time. Ron's happy with the business he's inherited, although he says it's been difficult to change. If it's Monday and chicken soup isn't on the menu, he gets grief. Up the street is a major intersection at Bloomfield's colonial Town Green. A majestic brick Presbyterian church completed in 1800 overlooks the scene. There's a train station a block or so one way, a Garden State Parkway exit a few in another, people, bus stops and traffic, more people, and more traffic.
Bloomfield Avenue is a wide boulevard crossing the valley, that remarkably almost goes straight. Block by block it travels, businesses large and small line the busy street, above them more space for living and working. It's not always pretty. It's vital. Opportunity. How many histories started in these places? Shifting ethnicities. How many histories are starting in these places? It will pass Branch Brook Park, a large urban space of sculpted woods and lawn with walkways as originally designed by Frederick Olmsted. The spires of the recently completed Newark Cathedral reflect in one of the ponds. Tennis courts attract the young and the fit. Bocce courts at the Senior Center are largely an Italian affair. The annual cherry blossom festival attracts thousands of people, many Japanese, couples, there's room for romance, and young families.
But except for a deluge Branch Brook is little more than a trickle within concrete impoundments on its way to the Passaic. Then the banks of the river are heavy with new construction in Newark, the murky, slow moving water passes beneath a series of bridges. While nearby an Art Deco masterpiece stands in neglect, its vaudeville stage silent.
Let's re-imagine our cities, not just gentrify. It was good timing that brought me to Ferry Street in the Ironbound District on a fine Summer day when Portugal's soccer team won a big match. The flags, the celebratory mood, and so many great places to eat. Neat and tidy, a different look, different sounds, signs you can read and signs that you can't. Dynamic with change too, the mix of the old with some new is its survival.
But there's no longer a ferry on Ferry Street. The Passaic slides by, and joins the Hackensack at Newark Bay. There are dioxin hotspots from the manufacture of Agent Orange in the lower six miles of the river. PCB's, nickel, cadmium and other contaminants too. EPA and DEP can't agree on a Superfund plan. The waters of the bay mix with the tides on through the Arthur Kill into Raritan Bay making their way toward Sandy Hook and the Atlantic.
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