18 October 2012

Annie Beekman, Strangled. Part Two

The home of Jacob Johnson, south of Somerville, NJ, Sunday, September 15, 1895.  Annie Beekman, a twenty-three-year-old former Hillsborough resident visiting the area for the first time in two years lies in the back room of Jacob Johnson's modest cabin on the Elmendorf estate.  She is dead.

Jacob Johnson's cabin was on the Elemndorf estate. The main house is at Duke Farms.

In the front room are Johnson and his wife, along with the Somerset County Prosecuter, Constable Moore, and railroad flagman Joseph Gorman.  It was Gorman who alerted authorities that he could positively identify the dark-skinned black man and lighter-skinned woman who he saw crossing the tracks of the South Branch Railroad near the Raritan River late the previous evening - and that is what he has just done.

Annie Beekman's body was discovered by local laborer Peter Dow earlier that same morning.  It was obvious as he approached the body lying in a wooded area between the wagon road and the river that the woman was dead - and that she had been murdered. Her bodice was torn, corset wire ripped out, and finger marks were about her throat.  Coroner Brady, one of the first officials at the scene, ordered the body be taken to the nearest house, that of Jacob Johnson - a laborer employed on the estate of JB Duke, and a preacher of some renown in the local black community.

Despite the failure of Coroner Brady to adequately secure the crime scene - evidence including footprints was trampled by curiosity seekers - it was obvious that the murder had taken place on the road, and the body had been dragged into the woods.  An empty purse lying nearby pegged the motive as robbery.

Somerset County Courthouse, 1891
The prosecutor confronted Johnson: hadn't he been seen all over Somerville the previous evening with the deceased, drinking in at least two different establishments?  How could he answer the accusation of Joe Gorman, who saw him and the deceased together not far from the site of the murder after 10 pm last evening?

Johnson insisted that he left Annie Beekman alive in the company of two white men at around 10 pm, and immediately returned home.  Johnson's son later admitted in court that his parents had argued that night upon Johnson's return, his mother demanding an explanation as to why he had been out all evening with Annie, instead of home with his family.

Overwhelming circumstantial evidence which placed Johnson at the scene of the crime with motive and opportunity was enough for a grand jury and eventually a trial jury conviction.  He was convicted of murder and sentenced to death.

Johnson went to the gallows in Somerville on May 5, 1897.  In an ironic twist, he was cut from the scaffold after seven minutes, but was not yet dead. As doctors felt for a pulse and listened for a heartbeat, the noose, still tight about his neck, continued to do its work.  A few minutes later, he was pronounced dead - cause of death: strangulation.

17 October 2012

Annie Beekman, Strangled, Part One

Somerset County Fairgrounds, Somerville NJ, Thursday September 12, 1895.  Jacob Johnson hadn't seen young Annie Beekman in more than two years.  Some people said that she was dead or hospitalized - others, that she had married a much older man and was living in Newark.  In any event, she was there at the Somerset County Fair, standing at his peanut and soda-water stand.  By the end of the week, Johnson would be in the Somerset County Jail, accused of her murder.

Somerset County Fairgrounds, Somerville, NJ - 1891
Annie Beekman had indeed been living in Newark.  She told Johnson that she had returned to Somerset County to visit her brother in Hillsborough, and to collect $45 that was being held in trust for her by Calvin Corle of Neshanic.  Annie and her brother, both of biracial descent, had been bound by their mother to Neshanic farmer Edward Horner.  Upon reaching the age of maturity, each was given $50.  Her brother had taken the full amount directly, but Annie withdrew just $5, leaving the rest with Corle.

Jacob Johnson worked as a laborer on the estate of JB Duke.  He lived with his wife, son, and daughter in a cabin on the Elmendorf property near the banks of the Raritan River, not far from the tracks of the South Branch Railroad.  He was well liked and admired, especially in the black community around Hillsborough, where he was well known as a preacher with a particularly strong religious fervor.

Johnson suggested that Annie stay with them while she was visiting in the area.  She spent the day Friday visiting with her mother, and upon returning that evening, asked Johnson to accompany her on Saturday to Neshanic in order to recover her money form Mr. Corle.  She explained that she did not feel comfortable travelling alone with such a large sum.


Somerville Train Station - 1891

On Saturday afternoon, they boarded the train at the Roycefield Depot near Johnson's home for the short trip to Neshanic.  Annie received $45 from Mr. Corle, which she placed in a small purse and tucked into the bosom of her corset.  On the return trip, she suggested to Johnson that they get off the train at Somerville, and celebrate with a drink.
 

Commercial Hotel, Somerville, NJ - 1891
They went first to the Commercial Hotel, where Annie bought them a couple of rounds of beer.  She then suggested Cawley's restaurant, where they dined on sandwiches and wine - Annie carefully removing her purse, paying the bill, and returning it safely to its hiding place.
 

Cawley's Restaurant, Somerville, NJ - 1891

Johnson later told police that Annie had wanted to continue drinking, but he begged off, on the account of the lateness of the evening - it was already close to 10 pm.  Johnson claimed that before he left Annie near the Somerville Station, he saw her with two white men, one tall, one short, and that she had gone off with them.
 
That's not the story told by Joseph Gorman, a railroad flagman working near the Somerville Depot that Saturday evening.  Gorman told police that he clearly saw the pair cross the tracks in the vicinity of Bridge Street, and head towards the Raritan River.
 

11 October 2012

Elmer Clawson, Boy Murderer, Part Two

May 12, 1897, 7 o'clock.  Elmer Clawson, 19, sits down to his final meal - steak, coffee, cake, and strawberries.  His stomach is queasy, and he picks at the strawberries.  He is just three hours away from becoming not only the youngest person ever to be executed in Somerset County, but also the first white man to go to the gallows in that place in over a century.



Just one week earlier, the only other death row inmate in the Somerset County jail - black Methodist minister Jacob Johnson - was hung by the neck for eight minutes, then cut down still alive while the doctor waited another eight minutes for him to expire.  Several weeks earlier, Johnson, convicted of robbing and killing Annie Beekman, had foiled Clawson's escape attempt by telling the guard that Clawson had hidden an iron bar in his mattress straw, and had been fashioning a key out of a piece of metal from the leg of the iron bed fame.

No doubt  Clawson was desperate.  Convicted of killing Pluckemin farmer Harry Hodgetts on August 29 of the previous year, all appeals were exhausted and entreaties by leading Somerset County residents to commute the boy's sentence because of his age were unsuccessful.  On the witness stand, Clawson freely admitted that he had discharged his pistol three times, striking his former employer twice in the chest before fleeing on his bicycle.  In fact, Clawson had admitted his crime from the start - even going so far as to tell his family on his way out that fateful morning, that he was going out to kill Harry Hodgetts.

It was this bizarre behavior, and the subsequent testimony of Clawson family members as to the family's history of mental illness, that caused defense attorneys to be hopeful of an acquittal, or at least a sentence of life imprisonment.  Jurors heard from six mental health experts.  Unsurprisingly, the three put on by the prosecutor pronounced Clawson perfectly sane.

After breakfast, Clawson - dressed in black jacket, white shirt, and black tie - had a final meeting with his attorney, and is reported to have said, "I would rather go to sate prison for life, but am not afraid and will go through it all right."

At precisely 10 o'clock, Sheriff Wyckoff, accompanied by Hangman Van Hise, retrieved the prisoner - Van Hise slipping behind Clawson and tying his hands while Wyckoff proceded with final instructions.  They walked to the basement gallows.  Clawson stood on the spot inscribed by a chalk mark on the floor while Van Hise adjusted the silken rope about his neck and lowered the hood over his face.  The execution, including nineteen minutes in the noose, was completed by 10:26.

10 October 2012

Elmer Clawson, Boy Murderer, Part One

August 29, 1896.  Farmer Harry Hodgetts of Pluckemin, an Englishman who had been in the country three years and who had only just saved enough money for his wife and children to join him, had just finished breakfast and was heading outside to begin his day's work.  He was met unexpectedly by eighteen-year-old Elmer Clawson, a lad who had worked for him the previous season, but who he hadn't seen in over a year.

New York Times, 30 August 1896

Clawson set his bicycle down by the road and strode up to meet Hodgetts by the door of his home.  Clawson asked for work, and when Hodgetts refused, Clawson demanded to be paid wages that Hodgetts had withheld the previous year - an amount equal to what Hodgetts suspected the boy had been skimming from produce sales to local merchants.

When Hodgetts again rebuffed the youth, Clawson drew a pistol and fired three times - two of the shots hitting the farmer in the chest.


Elmer Clawson, before his execution in 1897
As Clawson sped away on his bike, Hodgetts did not drop, but instead pursued the boy on foot for seven minutes over the Somerset County countryside before finally falling dead.

Hearing the gunshots, Hodgetts' neighbors responded to the scene, and followed on wagon and bicycle the track of Clawson's bicycle tire clearly visible on the dusty Bedminster Township roads.

By the time the pursuers reached Far Hills four miles away, their numbers had grown to include more men on bicycles, wagons, and buggies.  At the Far Hills train station, Clawson overheard the station agent repeating a phone message that included his description, and regaining his bicycle made a mad dash for Bedminster.

The closing vigilantes forced Clawson to ditch his bike and take to the underbrush at the side of the road, but the posse cajoled him out of his hiding place.  Word of Hodgetts death having reached the mob, they considered lynching him on the spot.  Only Constable Thomas Moore, riding up through the crowd at a full gallop, dissuaded the men from committing an act that would surely leave a black mark on Somerset County.

more tomorrow....

05 October 2012

Clement Clawson's "Capitalism", Part Three

Imagine you had a wicked stepmother who so opposed your romantic relationship with a former employee that she secretly changed her will, adding a provision that would deny you your father's inheritance - a small fortune that you had acquired in your father's name through your own toil - should your liaison ever culminate in marriage.  Sounds like the plot of a Jennifer Aniston comedy, or with a few songs thrown in, a Disney film.

In actuality, this was the real life drama of prolific inventor and entrepreneur Clement C. Clawson, Sr.

Beginning in North Carolina in the 1870s, and eventually moving to Newark, NJ, Henry T. Clawson and his son Clement built an enormously successful business based on the younger Clawson's invention of the coin-operated vending machine, or "coin-in-the-slot" machine as it was originally named.  These highly profitable machines were the first of their kind, and very desirable to tavern and store owners who placed them on their counters and practically minted money.

The machines typically cost less than five dollars to produce at the Newark factory owned by Henry.  Machines were then purchased at a set price by the Clawson Slot Machine Company controlled by Clement, thereby guaranteeing Henry any amount of profit they wished.  And there was no shortage of profits, as machines could either be leased, put into stores with the take being split between the Clawsons and the store owner, or ultimately sold outright for around $65.

Despite the complex business arrangement, Henry Clawson always acknowledged that the business would be nothing without his son's genius, and that upon his death, anything in his name would be left to his son.  Somewhere along the line Henry Clawson had a change of heart, and at the reading of his will in 1897, it was found that he had instead left everything to his second wife, Aurelia.  A justifiably upset Clement was able to exact a compromise with his stepmother - in exchange for not contesting his father's will, she would agree to make a will leaving everything to her stepson upon her death.

It didn't take long for Aurelia Clawson to have second thoughts.  When Clement's wife died in 1899, Aurelia suspected that Clement had taken up with Ella Hood, a young woman who had lived with the Clawsons and was employed as their child's nanny.  It is unknown exactly what the widow Clawson's objection was to this relationship, but her feelings were so strong that she made a new will on July 17, 1900, adding the provision that all of the property previously promised to Clement by first his father, and later herself, would be forfeit were he to live with or marry Ella Hood.

No doubt this would have caused quite a dilemma for Clement, had he known of it!  In the event, he indeed did marry Miss Hood in February 1901, moving permanently to Flagtown, and becoming estranged from his stepmother who remained in the Newark house with her grandniece Aurelia Lee.

In the months before her death in February 1902, relations between stepmother and stepson improved somewhat, with Clement often visiting Aurelia in Newark.  How shocked he must have been upon her death to find out that he had once again been cheated out of what was rightfully his, the entire estate going to Aurelia's grandniece and other of her relatives.

This time Clawson went to court.  The Clawsons and their two young sons - Clement, born 1902 and Robert, born 1903 waited for more than two years for the case to be decided.  Finally, on June 28, 1904, the Court of Chancery of New Jersey ruled in their favor, awarding them everything that Henry Clawson had originally promised Clement before his death, valued at around $50,000.

In subsequent years, Clement Clawson, Sr. moved the entire operations of the Clawson Machine Company to Flagtown, building Hillsborough's first modern factory, and establishing a lasting legacy in our town.

Might make a good movie someday!



26 September 2012

Clement Clawson's "Capitalism", Part Two

When his father and business partner, Henry T. Clawson, passed away on August 15, 1897, Newark based inventor Clement Clawson might have had better luck consulting one of his own coin operated fortune-telling machines than relying on the promises made by first his father, and then his stepmother Aurelia.


Clawson Fortune Telling Machine, circa 1890

"Business partner" might be too kind an attribution for the senior Clawson, as it was later proved in court that by the mid 1890s he had little to do with the running of the business.  The profitable factory where the Clawson Slot Machine Company could barely keep up with the demand for its coin operated vending and gambling machines was in Henry Clawson's name, as was the Newark home that he and his second wife shared with Clement and his young family and nanny Ella Hood - but all of the success of the business was due to the inventions and business acumen of his son.

On several occasions during the last decade of his life, Henry acknowledged this - promising to leave the factory, all of the equipment, and the Clawson homestead to Clement.  Imagine the son's surprise then to find that his father had made a will in 1893, four years before his death, leaving all to Clement's stepmother - with the provision that Clement would be allowed to occupy the factory at a rent she determined.

Foreshadowing what would happen upon his stepmother's death five years later, the young Mr. Clawson demanded satisfaction, refusing to leave the attorney's office where the will was read until all agreed that he had been done wrong.  He threatened to contest the will and bring immediate legal action to prevent the dissemination of any property, and to recover other monies owed to him by his father through their business dealings - a not inconsiderable sum of perhaps $7,000 or more.

The widow Clawson assured Clement that in exchange for his not pressing the matter, she would make a will leaving everything to him upon her death - which she did in March 1898.

All was well for about a year.  The family was joined by Aurelia Clawson's grandniece, Aurelia Lee, and by all accounts everyone got on well at their Halsey Street residence, and at the recently purchased country house in Flagtown - even after the death of  Clement's wife Lillie on March 10, 1899. 

It was around this time that Clement moved permanently to Flagtown, and Aurelia Clawson suspected that he had taken up with the children's nanny, Ella.  Mrs. Clawson disapproved very strongly of this relationship - so strongly that she secretly changed her will on July 17, 1900, including the new provision stating that if Clement and Ella should marry, all the property promised to Clement by his father would instead go to her niece!


to be concluded tomorrow.....

25 September 2012

Clement Clawson's "Capitalism", Part One

Although the 1900 United States Federal Census for Newark's Second Ward boldly lists Aurelia Clawson's occupation as "Capitalist",  the irony of this declaration wouldn't be made clear until after her death less than two years later. 

It was in February 1902, in an attorney's office in Newark for the reading of the will, that prolific inventor and entrepreneur Clement C. Clawson first learned how his widowed stepmother Aurelia had "capitalised" on his good nature, reaching out from the beyond to cheat him out of his father's inheritance.


1883 Ad for the Clawson Automatic Weighing and Filling Machine Co.


Henry T. Clawson and his only child Clement began their business partnership in their native North Carolina in the 1870s.  The elder Clawson had manufactured tools and implements for the Confederacy during the Civil War - but it was his son's inventive prowess that brought the business to a whole new level.

One of his first inventions was a mechanical device to automatically measure and cut paper in one step.  He followed this up with a machine to shave ice.  Things really started to take off when he delved into solving more complicated problems with more complex contraptions.

The launch of their Automatic Weighing and Filling Machine Company in the early 1880s necessitated a move to New York City, and their most successful venture, The Clawson Slot Machine Company, found the family - Henry, second wife Aurelia, Clement and wife Lillie - living and working near their new factory in Newark.

In a later interview with the New York Evening Telegram, Clawson told the paper that the key to his financial success was to first invent and then manufacture his own machines - to not rely on outside investors who invariably reap most of the rewards.  He certainly took his own advice, being the first to invent coin operated vending machines for items such as pencils or gum, a fortune telling machine, and most notably the gambling slot machine.  Machines were manufactured in Newark at a plant ostensibly owned and managed by Henry Clawson, and then sold at a set price to Clement.

Sounds like a good setup - until you realize that father Henry had practically no role in any part of the business other than having his name on the books. 

More tomorrow....

20 September 2012

The Clement Clawson, Jr. Building, Part Two

When Hillsborough Township's first municipal building opened in 1931, there was no special dedication ceremony or any formal acknowledgement of the man without whose help the project would have never gotten off the ground.  Perhaps it's time to rectify that.


Hillsborough Township's first municipal building, photographed in the first decades after opening in 1931.

It was earlier that year that township resident Clement Clawson, Jr. realized he could use his connections as the local administrator for the WPA to get the federal government to pay for the construction of a municipal building for Hillsborough - the first in its history.  This was just the type of "shovel ready" project the WPA was looking for to combat depression-era unemployment, and the Township Committee readily agreed to the plan.

When interviewed by the Somerset Messenger Gazette in 1971, Clawson remembered what he told the committee when he showed up at a subsequent meeting and learned that they hadn't fulfilled their commitment to the project - acquiring the land and hiring an architect.  In fact, they had done nothing at all for two months:

"Now look, today is Monday, and come Friday morning I will receive a wire appropriating the necessary funds.  And I must reply immediately to confirm we will begin the following Monday morning!"
Some fruitless discussion followed concerning a location for the building with the committee favoring the site of the old Poor Farm - the only available property owned by the township.  Clawson insisted that the feds would never approve a location so far from the center of the township, and set out, committee in tow, to look at more centrally located sites.

Their first and last stop was the Mikula farm on the original Amwell Rd. - now renamed East Mountain Rd. - near the intersection with South Branch Rd.  Coincidentally, or maybe not considering its prime location, this was very near the old Jacob Flagg tavern, one of the town fathers' favored meeting places of the 18th century.

After some explanation at Mrs. Mikula's front door and a visit to the Johns-Manville plant to see her husband - who thought he was headed to the boss's office to be fired when he was called off the line - the site was secured.

The original architect's plan was cut by about 50% by a frugal township committee - who were responsible for materials cost - a move that was regretted within a year or two when they ran out of space for records storage and a larger garage had to be added.


Despite reducing the overall size of the building, an engineer's error put ten feet of the building over the property line (!), necessitating a property swap with the cooperative Mikulas, who gave up the ten foot strip in exchange for regaining some acreage at the rear of the property.

The humble building, which now serves as the home of Hillsborough's Department of Public Works, has served Hillsborough well for over 80 years.  And it was mostly due to the vision of one young man, Clement Clawson, who prodded and pushed until it was done.

19 September 2012

The Clement Clawson, Jr. Building, Part One

Maybe it's time to rename Hillsborough's first Municipal Building, the seat of our township government for six decades, in memory of the young man whose singular effort made the building possible.


Hillsborough Township's first Municipal Building photographed in 2012.
 It was near the beginning of the Great Depression in 1931 that twenty-eight-year-old Clement Clawson, Jr. - son of the mechanical genius vending machine pioneer and a successful businessman in his own right - found himself in the enviable position of being able to do a great good for Hillsborough Township. 

As Somerset County supervisor of emergency relief, he was also the federal administrator for local Works Progress Administration (WPA) projects.  The WPA was a depression era federal program designed to fund "shovel-ready" projects, and put the unemployed to work.  It occurred to Clawson that there was a project right here in Hillsborough - the construction of a much needed municipal building.

From the time of Hillsborough's charter in 1771 - and indeed since the first settlement in the area decades earlier - the town's governing body met wherever it was convenient.  For most of the early period, that meant an annual meeting at the home of a township committeeman, or at a local tavern or inn.  In the later years, space was rented as needed at the Neshanic Hotel or elsewhere.

Full and part time employees, such as the tax collecter and township clerk, simply worked out of their homes.  Township owned road equipment was stored anywhere space could be found.

Clawson realized that the WPA would pay all of the labor costs for a town hall.  All the township had to do, he explained at the next monthly committee meeting, was provide the land and building materials, and hire an engineer and architect.  Clawson would file the paperwork and wait for the funds to come in.  The three-person Township Committee readily agreed to the plan.

But after a couple of months had passed with no update from the township committee on their progress, Clawson went to the next public meeting to find out what was going on.  Incredibly, the committee had completely forgotten about the plan, and hadn't done a thing!

To be continued.....



18 September 2012

"Who Was Peter J. Biondi?"

In a 1988 feature story in the Somerset Messenger Gazette, Pete Biondi listed his favorite television program as Jeopardy.  With Saturday's dedication ceremony in his honor, the title of this blog post now becomes the answer, in the form of a question, to this clue: Hillsborough's Municipal Building, opened in 1991, was renamed for this former mayor on September 15, 2012.
The plaque will be placed at the entrance to the builing.
But there is nothing trivial about Pete's longstanding commitment to the residents of Hillsborough and the town he loved.

Mayor Carl Suraci
It has often been said that Hillsborough is a big town with a small town feel.  That is something that Pete always believed.  Although many of the planning decisions that have shaped Hillsborough were already decided before the Biondi's moved to town in 1976, and certainly before Pete was elected to the Township Committee in 1983, Pete remained committed to that small town feel.

Lt. Governor Kim Guadagno

Hillsborough acquired the property for the municipal complex in the mid 80s as part of the development project that brought the Rohill Estates development and the paving of Beekman Lane. 

Congressman Leonard Lance
By all accounts, it was Pete who pushed to have the new municipal building, just the second in Hillsborough's 200 year history,house not just township offices, but to also provide facilities for the police and courts, the school district offices, a modern library, and a senior citizens center.
State Senator Christopher "Kip" Bateman

While other townships, Branchburg for instance, were creating palaces for their municipal departments, Hillsborough built an efficient, workable complex to serve the residents first.  And what says "small town feel" better than the general store that doubles as the post office and ticket agent, or the local tavern that serves as the town meeting hall. 
Former mayor Anthony Ferrera reads the proclamation.

Pete was duly proud of this accomplishment, stating at the 1989 groundbreaking ceremony, "This building symbolizes an era of cooperation in Hillsborough Township which results in diverse township functions being centrally located for the benefit of our residents".

Pete's grandchildren cut the ribbon as family and dignitaries look on.

About 200 of Pete's friends, family, and Hillsborough neighbors came out on Saturday to witness the dedication ceremony, which included guest speakers, the reading of the proclamation, and the unveiling of a plaque and a new sign over the main entrance to the building.
The new sign over the main entrance
At the close of ceremonies, Mrs. Joan Biondi spoke eloquently about her husband, who is missed by all.
Mrs. Joan Biondi


31 January 2012

Spacious Country Living at Majestic Knolls

Looking for "spacious country living" circa 1992?  That's what led us to look into Majestic Knolls twenty years ago this Spring.


Newspaper ad for Majestic Knolls development in Hillsborough, NJ, 1992

This may have been the place we ended up if I hadn't remembered that there was one more development somewhere over on Beekman Lane that I wanted to check out.  Back then, Triangle Rd. was still a triangle, only extended slightly past what we now call South Triangle Rd., to allow access to Majestic Knolls.  Beyond that was a barricaded dirt road - which lead to the still gravelled Auten Rd.

Circa 1992 map of Hillsborough, NJ.  Click for a larger view.

Happily for us - and unluckily for the salespeople at Majestic Knolls - the map they provided showed us the way around to Beekman Lane via South Triangle and New Amwell.

30 January 2012

Hillsborough Village, 1975

I'm still looking for these original ads for Hillsborough's housing developments.  If you think about it, nothing has shaped the look of present day Hillsborough more than the residential construction that took place from 1955 to 1995. 

Hillsborough Village ad from a 1975 newspaper.
Or look at it this way: the "1975 Hillsborough" was vastly different from the "1955 Hillsborough", but the "2011 Hillsborough" isn't much different at all from the "1991 Hillsborough".

19 January 2012

Right Place? Wrong Time!

There's only one reason 469 apartments, 130 hotel rooms, and 20,000 square ft. of retail space is not suitable for the 50 acre site on the northbound side of Route 206 just south of Valley Road:

TRAFFIC!

Make no mistake, this is what it all hinges on.  Don't wander off into other arguments - stick with this.

And the soon (ha!) to be completed 206 bypass is only going to make things worse.

Let's break it down point by point:

  1. Traffic northbound between Triangle Rd. and Brown Ave. is already a mess during rush hour. 
  2. There is a plan to widen 206 through this stretch - but no funding is identified, and no firm commitments have been made to begin work.
  3. There are currently 8 traffic lights between the Montgomery-Hillsborough border and Triangle Rd.  These lights have the effect of metering northbound traffic.  When the bypass is completed, there will only be two lights (Hillsborough and Amwell Roads) causing traffic to speed quickly northbound into the nightmare.
  4. The applicant (Route 206 Enterprises, LLC) is expecting minor improvements to Route 206 along their frontage to include a center left turn lane, for access to both their development and United Rent All across the highway - we know how well those work!
  5. Even if the center lane could be made to work acceptably, that solution is only applicable BEFORE work begins to widen 206.  When that work begins, all bets are off, as the road will need to be kept open while work is going on - a completely different operation than what is taking place now on the bypass - and no doubt as is typical in this kind of project the road will be reduced to a single very narrow lane in each direction.
  6. The eventual widening of the highway in this area will be a long difficult project - not only will the road need to stay open, but there is a railroad bridge to replace, streams to be dealt with, etc.
We must conclude that no additional development take place at that location until ALL of the improvements to Route 206 - the bypass and the widening - have been completed.  At the very least, hold off construction until the bypass is completed (next year?) so we can see what effect all of the additional northbound traffic will have on the Triangle to Valley stretch of highway.

As I said in my previous post, I am not automatically opposed to development of this type, or even to development at that location.  But just because this may be the right place, doesn't mean it's the right time.

18 January 2012

Green Village, Vulgar Appendage?

"Green Village"?  Really?  Does Route 206 Enterprises LLC, the developer looking to build 469 apartment units, a 130 unit extended-stay hotel, and two 10,000 square ft. retail buildings on a 50 acre property directly across the highway from United Rent-All, not realize that one of Hillsborough's most notable housing developments, Village Green, is barely more than a mile away on the same highway?

Village Green, which celebrates its 50th anniversary this year, was the first post war housing project in New Jersey to employ a design where instead of, for example, a 100 acre lot being filled with 100 homes on 1 acre lots, the 100 homes would be built on only half of the site, the other half being left as open space for passive and active recreation.

This first of its kind design is known as a cluster development.  I might also be inclined to use the word cluster to describe the current proposal by Route 206 Enterprises, but I would be forced to append a vulgarity not suitable for all readers of this blog!

Naming conventions aside, this proposal is flat out too much, too soon.  Whether it's builder's remedy lawsuits, fear of future litigation, or COAH obligations that is pushing this monstrosity along, someone has to stand up and say, "stop".

As long as Hillsborough remains a very desirable place to live, people are going to want to build here.  And this might even be the perfect spot for this project....but not in 2012, or 2015, or 2018.  Why do I say that?  Read tomorrow to find out.

14 January 2012

Gay Marriage Bill a "Top Priority"?

Did I read this right?  Did Senate President Steve Sweeney say that sending Governor Christie a gay marriage bill would be a "top priority" in the new legislative term?

It was just about two years ago that the state legislature failed to pass just such a bill.  At that time, I wrote why I thought the current civil union law made no sense, and why a gay marriage law would be just more of the same.  You can read that post here.

But that's not the real story.

The real story is why anyone in Trenton would think a bill like this would be a top priority?  Let's face it, with New Jersey's unemployment rate still hovering around 9%, gays can no more afford to get married than anyone else!

Mr. Sweeney, before you completely fill your head with images of gays and lesbians walking down the aisle, why not reach across the aisle and put a few tools in Governor Christie's oft-mentioned property tax relief toolbox, or do something to help New Jersey businesses grow?

Now is the time to prioritize actions that will help 100% of NJ residents, not a bill that will leave 96% scratching their heads.