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| This River Is a
Keeper |
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| Author: Bob
Ivry |
| Date: 4/26/2004 |
| Publication: The Record |
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"I
love New Jersey," said Sue Shutte. Then she widened her blue
eyes and flung out her arms, as if she were about to burst into
song. "I mean, I looooove New Jersey!"
Shutte, curator of the Steuben House in River Edge, had just
given a walking tour of the many Washington-slept-here
historical high points around New Bridge Landing. During the
Revolution, the Hackensack River crossing saved George
Washington's army from a sound thrashing by English Redcoats and
a possible early end to the war. It's now a favorite field-trip
destination for New Jersey schoolchildren and an opportunity for
Shutte to spread the love.
As the Hotfootin' Band, a bluegrass trio, played a gentle
version of "This Land Is Your Land," Shutte and 150 or so
supporters of two Bergen County environmental groups gathered
Sunday on the grounds of the Steuben House to profess their
affection for New Jersey, its history, and its beauty.
The Earth Week event, Celebration and Paddle for Open Space, was
co-sponsored by the Hackensack Riverkeeper and Bergen Save the
Watershed Action Network, or SWAN. It was billed as a
commemoration of both the re-adoption of the Bergen County Open
Space, Recreation, Farmland & Historic Trust Fund and the recent
passage of the state's new stormwater rules.
New stormwater regs? Par-tay!
Aside from celebrating hard-fought bureaucratic victories, the
event gave a hearty backslap to the environmentalists. Bergen
SWAN, which was started by a half-dozen Ramapo College students
in the 1980s, now boasts a member list of 800 households. And
the Hackensack Riverkeeper, founded in 1997, has quickly become
one of the more high-profile environmental advocacy groups in
the state.
Their success was lauded by Ernest Hahn, assistant commissioner
of the state Department of Environmental Protection, who read a
letter of congratulations from Governor McGreevey. "I rely on
citizens such as yourselves," the governor wrote.
"No doubt there's been a complete cultural change in people's
consciousness about the Hackensack River," said Bill Sheehan of
the Riverkeeper. "People see the river worth preserving now.
They see it as capable of supporting paddle sports and providing
respite from urban life."
A big part of that cultural change has been persuading people to
view the river in the context of its watershed lands, said Lori
Charkey of Bergen SWAN.
"Our organization measures its success in acres," Charkey said.
"And over the years, we've helped set aside 400 acres of
sensitive watershed land."
As a plethora of published material available at the festival's
booths attested, everything dripped, dropped, or drained just
about anywhere eventually makes it into the water supply.
That was obvious when about three dozen of the revelers took to
canoes and kayaks to paddle their way up "the Hack."
Sure, the river has its share of floating trash, mostly plastic
water bottles and softer plastic of indeterminate shape and
origin. Sure, it has broken-up sidewalk concrete lining some of
its banks. Sure, tennis balls, baby strollers, milk crates, and
beer bottles litter the ground between phragmites.
William Faulkner once wrote that we love despite, not because
of, and the Hack is a good example. Beauty flashed in the calm
water, the dappled tree blossoms, the wispy willow branches
overhanging. A pair of night herons scampered up a tree limb. An
egret bobbed its head along the shore. Seagulls roosted on the
outstretched limbs of a submerged tree trunk. In a muddy
clearing, a father goose stood guard, his orange tongue visible,
ready to hiss, while mom sat on her nest.
Historian Tim Adriance was on hand, in a canoe, to relate the
river's human history. The first Lutheran church in America sat
on the banks of the river, in Teaneck, its cemetery eventually
washed into the river by relentless erosion. Amelia Earhart
landed her plane on Route 4 as part of the celebration of the
highway's opening.
Adriance called the Steuben House, built in 1752 and expanded 15
years later, "the jewel of Revolutionary sandstone buildings."
It had belonged to a man named Zabriskie, Adriance said, until
Zabriskie backed the British and the house was given to General
Von Steuben as a thank you. Washington had stayed there, and
Lord Cornwallis, too.
New Bridge, Adriance said, was "the bridge that saved the
nation" because it provided Washington a retreat route west.
Standing on the bridge as the paddlers swung into view was Sue
Shutte, taking pictures.
Due to the vagaries of the tides, the boaters had started their
trip at Foschini Park in Hackensack. The plan was to return to
New Bridge Landing, then swing back to Foschini. Just as the
flotilla reached New Bridge Landing, a cold, spitting rain began
to fall. It made two sounds on the water - a pitter-pat and a
low hiss.
Earlier, Shutte had called it "the oldest swing bridge in New
Jersey," dating from 1889. It's now closed to vehicular traffic,
but it had handled cars until the 1950s. Shutte explained that a
key was used to engage a set of gears below the bridge, just
above the waterline. The bridge was hand-cranked, turning it
parallel to the river and allowing boats to pass on either side.
That was back when, as Charkey put it, the Hackensack was "New
Jersey's first highway for transporting goods and people."
Sunday's boaters, hiding from the pelting rain, saw that history
firsthand. They lollygagged under the bridge, waiting for the
rain to let up. They got a closeup view of the giant gear. It
was painted white, and looked serviceable. |
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online source: http://www.hackensackriverkeeper.org/Articles.php?ID=37 |
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