First Grand Carnival ~ Groveville Fire Co. ~ 1922

This article appeared in the Trenton Evening Times on May 24, 1922. Not only dose this advertise The first carnival of the Groveville Fire Co. it contains a nice advertisement for WoodLawn Park, The largest amusement park in Central Jersey, so the article says.

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The Woodlawn Park advertisement touts "Joseph Delucca, Worlds Greatest Ephonium Artist" My first thought was what in the world is a "Ephonium", well below is a photo of an "Ephonium", kind of like a Trumpet on Steroids, but not quite a Tuba or French Horn.

Pretty exciting stuff, this is also a learning experience, for me at least.

A Fireman's Story

This is a great article about Wendell Fisher; I borrowed the newspaper portion above from Tom Glove’s site.

Mark Cozens in this article is now a Captain Ladder #2, City of Trenton Fire Department. Wendell Fisher passed away in April of 2004.

Mark was an inspiration to new, young members; he stressed physical fitness, training, and keeping up with new technology, as the key to a good firefighter. As I look back it was amazing to see two men, from different generations strive toward the same goal, in different ways.

The fire Mark talks about being his hottest, at Eagle Rock Apartments was my apartment April 4, 1987, I was glad I was away on vacation at the time, as a volunteer I would have been torn as to stay with my home or run to the firehouse to drive a truck, glad I was not faced with that decision.

Growing up in Groveville and in the fire company Wendell was one of my heros. Through my years in the Groveville Volunteer Fire Company I learned a lot. As I have said before Wendell taught you the stuff that you did not find in a book, the practical stuff, the common sense stuff, the stuff that when in a jam would save your “butt”.

During the beginning of my time there, Thursday, May 17, 1962, we did not have a Mercer County Fire Training Center, like we do now. If we received any training, other than “in house” training it was at Ancora State Hospital, in south Jersey or weekend classes, at the fire school held annually at the New Jersey National Guard facility in Sea Girt, New Jersey, I did both. We were lucky, at the time I joined; we had three members that were employed as firemen at Fort Dix, Jim Donnell, Jim Stackhouse, and Wendell Fisher and later Ray Bell.

These men received almost constant training and updates on the latest equipment, products, and theories, they brought home their training and shared and taught it to us.

Wendell always had a joke, I mean always. I can still hear him today saying “Hey Lippy, did ya hear the one about the guy that wanted to learn to Skydive” and I still tell that joke today, ask me, I’ll tell it.

In 1963 New Jersey had a very dry Forest Fire Season, in April of that year it was particularly dry. South Jersey was plagued with fires that kept almost every fire company in south Jersey busy every day. Allentown Fire Company had been called early in the morning to help battle fires throughout Ocean County, particularly Jackson Township; they had sent all of their manpower to the fire scene, leaving Allentown unprotected. In this case Allentown called Groveville Fire Company to send one truck and a crew to Allentown for fire protection; this is standard practice even today.

When we arrived the crew consisted of Wendell Fisher, Driver- Ray Bell, Officer In Charge, and firefighters Carl Cubberley, Ron Robinson, Tom Dwier and Gary Lippincott. We were prepared to spend the day, but being young volunteers we were really hoping to be called into action at the fire scene.

After being there from early morning, without a call, we were told that a relief crew was coming out to relieve us but we had to return in an hour because our relief could not stay.

When we returned we found that our relief crew and our truck had been deployed to somewhere in Jackson Township. They were still calling for more help in the Jackson Township area, which was when something unheard of back then happened. We always had a very close relationship with the Allentown Fire Company, they all knew Wendell and Ray, they offered us to take their lone truck, which had been left behind, so we climbed on Allentown’s truck and we were given orders to report to the Forest Fire Warden at Route 526 and Route 571 at the Sawmill.

When we arrived we were instructed to start a back fire along the western side of Burnt Tavern Road, and report back. As Tom and I were lighting the backfire a man pulled up in a pickup truck and began to yell at Wendell, he told Wendell that it was his property we were setting on fire and he wanted us to stop. He said there is a stream between us and the fire and there was no need to burn his land. Wendell asked how wide the stream was, the man responded “It’s about 4 feet wide”, Wendell looked at the gentleman and said, only four feet? then I suggest you get down there and start splashing, now please leave before I have the State Police remove you.

Once we completed our assignment we were told to report to a Forest Fire Warden in Leesville, Jackson Township. As we passed through the little town of Holmeson people were in front of their homes calling for us to stop and protect their homes, as much as we would have liked to, but it was not our decision to make, we had to follow orders, we felt bad, because on our way home some of those homes were nothing but a chimney and a refrigerator standing.

When we arrived at Leesville the fire was miles away, we younger guys were disappointed, but Wendell had been in this position before and knew what to expect. we were ordered to proceed down a lane and set up to protect a house in the path of the fire. The owner had a large Auto Salvage Yard (Junk Yard); we were not to worry about that just the house.

Wendell positioned the truck behind the house on the opposite side from the fires path and far enough that should we lose the house, the truck would be safe. It was a small one story home, so we stretched two lines around each side to the front of the house. The fire was still just a glow in the distance, but Wendell kept expressing the impending danger.

The house was in a small clearing, but surrounded by what we used to call “Indian Grass” a tall very dry grass that when it burns it burns hot like lighting Diesel fuel, a very hot, orange flame. The game plan was as the fire approached we would knock it down in front of the house, follow it around the sides of the house and let the fire go on by, there was no way we could stop this fire, just protect the house. Wendell kept impressing on us to not open the hose till absolutely necessary, “Remember, you only have 500 gallons of water and nowhere to get more”. We young guys response “yea, yea, we heard it before” but not to Wendell’s face did we say that.

We were told that in the Junk yards was a 1922 Durant Roadster and seeing as how the fire as still just a glow in the distance we younger guys thought there was no harm in wandering over to take a look, after all if all went as planned the antique would be “Toast“ soon anyway. It was about 100 yards to the junk yard so we walked over, when Wendell found we were gone he came after us and when he found us he chewed us out all the way back to the fire truck. He told us we did not understand, when that fire comes through it will be like a freight train without a whistle. Our response, under our breath was “Yea, yea, yea, big time Fort Dix fireman, thinks he knows it all”.

So we sat by the hose lines; as the fire approached, the lines were charged and Wendell kept saying not yet, not yet, don’t open the hose its only 500 gallons. Soon, for no apparent reason a strong wind came from our back, but the fire was still coming towards us as the fire reached the edged of the clearing the wind got stronger, the fire was creating its own draft. As it got nearer the large Pine trees began explode and split as the sap boiled and created steam, these trees were fire from top to bottom.

Our faces were so hot and we were so scared it gives me chills still today, finally when the heat was almost too much to bear, Wendell said OK, now! and we knocked the fire down just in front of the house. Wendell and Ray stayed with each hose line as we worked our way around the house; telling to shut the water off, now open it up, just to conserve our water. The house was fine and the fire went on its way and the Junk Yard and the 1922 Durant Roadster was “Toast”

I don’t know if I have ever been that scared, but if it were not for Wendell we all might have been “Toast”

We witnessed the Dodge “Brush Truck” from the Mission Volunteer Fire Company of Bordentown Township, traveling down a small, narrow sand road, near Leesville, loaded with firemen as the fire rolled over the truck and the men and the truck disappeared in to the smoke and flames, it was not until the next day when we were headed home that we found that everyone on that truck was OK.

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Years later I told Wendell how scared we were and what we had said under our breath and we all had a good laugh about it.

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One Tuesday morning, in 1986 there was a bunch of us standing around the fire house drinking coffee and “Fighting Old Fires” and the TV was on. We were all talking about the upcoming launch of the space shuttle, that morning. As the time grew near we all began to watch the launch preparation. We had all seen a few launches, because in 1986 there had only been a few. As the Challenger lifted off we watched in amazement, little comments like “If Wilbur and Orville Wright could see that” were heard. As it climbed higher and higher, we just watched, then the smoke and steam that followed the shuttle split into two columns and then one of those columns split again, no one said a word, even the TV fell silent, the commentator that had been speaking almost nonstop was quiet. Wendell was the first to speak an in a very serious tone he said “I don’t much about space travel, but I don’t think it’s supposed to do that, I think they have trouble up there.” As we all know now they did have trouble.

There was a time when one of our fire trucks was down with a warped cylinder head, the mechanic, Marty, Suggested we replace both heads. The heads for our Ward LaFrance and its Waukesha Engine were not available at your local Pep Boys, The closest place was the Ward LaFrance Factory in Elmira, New York and truck shipping could take over a week. There was no overnight shipping of heavy items back then, so Wendell, being a licensed Pilot volunteered to fly to Elmira, NY and bring back the heads.

Wendell and his friend, Wayne, who worked at Schroeder’s Esso in Yardville and their wives, flew out of Robbinsville Airport to Elmira, NY.

Wendell joked when the heads were loaded, the plane was near its maximum safe weight load, he and Wayne had a decision to make, Should they leave the wives behind or not, all made it home safely.

Wendell, like so many of the men and women of the fire company gave so much of their time, their families and themselves that I could write and entire blog on the selflessness of these people. Much like the people of the church and most times they were the same people, they gave so much to the community, in so many ways.

Anchor Thread Park ~ January 15, 2009

I could not resist breaking out the camera when I looked at the park this morning. As I stood there in the quiet of the snow and the stillness of the park building I could almost hear the sounds I used to hear, peering in the windows there, the Clack-Clack-Clack of the looms of Mercer Textile, and the Clickity-Clickity-Clack-Clack of the winding and coning machines of Anchor Thread, two very different sounds.

Standing in the park, alone, in the quiet of a new snow fall, you could imagine all the sights and sounds that we heard growing up around the mill, it was almost eerie. Just standing there alone you could picture the people that worked there, the ones that I remember, my Aunt Edith Jones, Ed and Howard Jones, Eddie and Bertha Klink, Vince Symczyk, Roy “Smut “ Champion, “Dutchy” Cubberley these are just a few that come to mind.

The site of the Anchor Thread Company and the Mercer Textile Company, once the bustling manufacturing center of Groveville, working three shifts to produce goods and keep the people of Groveville working and prosperous, now the scene of a quite tranquil park.

In early times coal came to the mills by barge and goods left by barge, in later years by tractor trailer. I remember seeing those large red and white tractor-trailers from Avondale Mills, in Alabama, as a kid I was amazed that trucks would come that far to Groveville.

The buildings and pieces of building that are left as a monument and a tribute to the men and women that made these companies work for well over 100 years.

Groveville Cook Book - 1963

The other day at a funeral for a good friend and long time Groveville resident, Kathy Dufficy, Dean Robinson approached me and said that his brother Ron had something for me that they had found in his Mom's attic (Phoebe Robinson). I told Dean if it's been in your Mom's attic I don't need it, I have enough junk (excuse me - Memorabilla) in my own. It's a funny thing about people in Groveville, they never throw anything away, it can always be re purposed, or at least we think it can, somewhere down the road.

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I am not putting down the people of Groveville, I am one of the savers. A few years ago we gave the basement a good cleaning, some of it got moved to the attic, now I am afraid the house might tip over. I could name names of the savers but they are the ones reading this and smiling and nodding.

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Sunday Ron Robinson was in church and afterwards at our luncheon he gave me this cook book, there was no date, but a group of us sitting around determined it was about 1963. Ruth McEmoyl Knight saw the book and was wondering if a desert her mother used to make was in the book, she had been looking for it for years, it was in the book. Several people were very interested in the book, Alice Plummer saw the book and remarked " I have that cookbook, it sits on my counter, I use it all the time.

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They gave the cook book to the right person, because they know I will make some of them and serve them at our after church luncheons, I do my best to keep everyone well fed.

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I didn't copy the recipes, there are to many, but I did post the advertisers, they are so interesting to see.

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For those that don't remember this was on Ervin Drive, in the old McEmoyl Basket Factory.

The Moyer Family

This is a photo of Charles and Erdith Moyer, the gentleman on the far left is Mr. MacMaster,taken during a return vist to the Moyer Family. He and his family rented the Moyer's upstairs apartment, during the 1950's. The dog is un-named until someone emails me with the name and that should not take long. That did not take long, Claire emailed me, the dogs name was 'Shaggy".

I received this photo from Mr. Macmaster's son, John MacMaster from Douglasville, GA , John's father was a Tradesman Electrician and traveled from job to Job For two years he lived in the Moyer's upstairs apartment on Main Street. The MacMasters were originally from Gardiner, Maine and moved to Groveville in 1955, while his father was working on a job in New Jersey.

John recalls fondly the years he spent in Groveville, here is an excerpt of what he said in his email accompanying the photo.

I remember the back yard where Michael (Moyer) and I would devise these walkie-talkies - then just string and some tin cans. We'd walk to the corner grocery store, and the school was easily within walking distance "around the corner". I remember the schools being so much harder than those in Maine. I remember at the end of Main St there was this "dumpy area" where we could forage through small sand pits and find all sorts of construction items....junk mainly. The years I was there TV was just coming into its own. My father brought home a black and white that we watched until the stations went off the air. We'd watch every commercial as we'd watch every feature show - fascinated - like everyone else - over the picture transmission.

It is such a testament to living in Groveville, that people that live here for a short period of time in 1955, fifty four years ago, still have such fond memories of our little town and cherish a photo of his father and a family that touched him so briefly, so long ago.