Ridgewood was originally settled by Dutch farmers in the late 1600s.  The village’s Old Paramus Reformed Church, built about 1800 and remodeled in 1875, is on the site of an earlier church where General Charles Lee was court-martialed after his retreat at the Battle of Monmouth Court House (1778) during the American Revolution.  In 1810 the community was called Newton, but its name was changed to Godwinville in 1829 to honor Abraham Godwin, a Revolutionary War hero.  The coming of the railroad in the early 1850s spurred growth.  It was renamed Ridgewood in 1865 and incorporated on November 20, 1894, following a referendum on November 15, 1894. .

When The Duck Pond Was More Than A Walk In The Park

Before there were refrigerators there was the Duck Pond.  As recently as the early 1930s, local hotels, inns and uptown markets relied on ice to keep food fresh and lemonade cold.  Ridgewood’s Duck Pond was a major source of ice at that time, which was harvested and stored in the winter for use in warmer days.  The enterprise was owned by Garret Tallman and Walter Hanham and their “empire” consisted of six wooden buildings that stretched from the west bank of the pond to Pleasant Avenue. 

Blocks of ice two feet thick and three to four feet long were cut and hauled by pulleys into the ice house where it was stacked between layers of salt hay to prevent melting.  Horses were used to maneuver the ice from pond to shed and they required special horse shoes to grip the slippery ice.  If an accident sent the animals into open water, everyone participated in their rescue.  Any delay could mean sickness or death for the horses.

The stored ice lasted throughout the warm weather season. Ice was not used in the winter as families relied on pantry boxes set in the windows, or lowered into a well.  In the fall, the pond was drained and cleaned and men in hip boots would rake the bottom.  This proved a bonanza for the people of the area:  fresh fish was available for dinner!  Many people waited at the pond’s edge for the fish thrown to them by the rake wielders.  In time, we progressed to refrigeration and harvested our own ice in trays.  Then the Duck Pond became a walk in the park!

Source: Alberta C. Ruckert, The Record 4/28/80 Photo: National Geographic

It wasn't any easier back then!

Back in 1907, a local newspaper cartoonist, W.L. Terhune, depicted the general attitude of Erie commuters toward train service.  The locale here is the Undercliff station (now Ho-Ho-Kus).  The original Ho-Ho-Kus station is another half mile up the line.  The Undercliff station was probably built to serve the Upper Ridgewood commuters.  Note the steep flight of steps that lead up to Hillcrest Avenue–which are still in existence today–representing a challenge facing the weary commuter at the end of the day.  Ho-Ho-Kus, incidentally, was originally called Hoppertown.

Colorful Characters from Ridgewood's Past

The Traveling Tinsmith or "tinker" came to our homes, laden with a small stove and an array of tools: scraper, soldering iron, soft solder roll and bottle of acid with brush, ready to mend pots and pans. He also cut strips of tin with his big shears, and shaped it into cups, strainers or sieves. There was always something from the house or barn that needed mending or making; things left until Old Tink came around. He came in the spring and fall; his workshop was in the open air. He was frequently given a free meal or night's lodging in the barn; where he lived, we never knew.

The Cobbler set up his workshop beside the kitchen stove; first mending harnesses and creating straps with buckles. Saddles had to be sewed and bellows repaired, all requiring skill and soft leather; then every member of the family had to be outfitted with new footwear. He ate with the family and had his own room and bed; he stayed two weeks at a time. A well-paid artisan, he worked his own farm during the summer, and plied his trade throughout the winter.

The Pack Peddler was seen trudging along the road, on his back a bundle tied up in waterproof cloth, so big and heavy-looking, one wondered how he could carry it. The pack harnessed to his body, a smaller pack in one hand and perhaps a wooden box in the other with shoelaces, buttons, combs, pins, tape and fasteners.  The other bundle held an assortment of dress goods, ladies' underwear and children's clothes.   His appeal was mostly to the ladies. When his stock was laid out on the kitchen table, one wondered how he would ever get it back into a bundle. With all the skill of a Boy Scout, he put each piece in its place, slipped his arms through the harness and was on his way.   In the spring, groups from Ramapo, selling homecrafted baskets, made their appearance.   They traveled afoot, entire families together, the women laden with baskets of various sizes and styles strung together and draped over their shoulders. The women stopped at each gate and called for admittance, offering their wares.

A picturesque array seen locally in the 1800s and early 1900s, all have faded out of sight.

At the museum today, one can see the crafts they made and sold and the tools they used and repaired.

A personal account by John Storms, Star Telegram, (Hackensack) 9/17/50.

The View From The Steeple: Circa 1890

In the late 1800s, a photographer looking for that panoramic landscape photograph had to find a hill, or at least a tall tree. This unknown artist chose the steeple of the Old Paramus Reformed Church for his vantage point. The view looks west up what is now Glen Avenue; Valleau Cemetery is on the right. The building in the foreground was built as a Union Hall during the Civil War and was designed by William Ranlett, the architect who redesigned the Hermitage. Just beyond Union Hall is the schoolhouse before the tower was removed.