Early homes built by Pilgrims were simple dwellings, one or two room cottages, complete
with 400 to 500 square foot layouts. A 20 ft-by-20 foot floorpan was common.
The framing of homes would have been shaped through timber harvesting. Raising the frame to a home involved reliance upon close-by oak tress, pine tress or walnut tress. Cut down, for the build.
Framing of oak logs, or pine logs or walnut logs done by hand.
Structures were anchored with heavy posts and beams, linked by mortise-and-tenon joints. Then secured by treenails, or pins.
The underpinning for a moise-and-tenon joint was an insertion of tongue-like projections – tenons – at the end of one board into matching rectangular holes in the next board. Those matching rectangular holes, moises.
Taking harshness of winters into account, clapboards were split from logs, then nailed over a home’s exterior.
A clapboard is an angled, beveled wood board, typically measuring 1 1/4 inches.
Clapboards overlap. Their contour, a preventative design which proved to be effective in shielding a home’s framing from gusts of cold winter winds.
Chimneys were added to a floor plan, then built out of timber and clay.
Chimneys were complimentary to fireplaces, to wood-burning stoves or to hearths. One of which serving as the origin for a home’s warmth.
Unfortunately, a good deal of heat generated would have escaped through the chimney, causing much of the dwelling – just about all areas not near the fireplace, or the hearth, or wood-burning stove – to hold at near-freezing temperatures on arctic nights.
Winter evenings were relegated to warmest sections of the main living area. Those sections, nearest the fireplace.
Walls were filled with woven branches, then plastered, using clay and mud. To capture heat, homes were built with thick wooden walls.
Bundled marsh or grasses were the ingredients of a roof. It would have been thatched roofs, early on.
As for a home’s floors, those fortunate enough to be well-off may have considered laying wood planks as floorboards. For the majority of Pilgrims, dirt floors. Basic hard–packed earth.
Windows were added to blueprints…windows without glass. Wooden shutters were used as window coverings.
Five nights from tonight, if you are in Kansas near Route 40 or County Road 442 in Douglas County and not too far from an unincorporated community known as Stull, be forewarned. You location is not far from one of the 7 “Gateways to Hell” on one of two nights the Old Serpent himself will pay a visit.
In 1867, German settlers had the misfortune of constructing one limestone abbey on the Kansas prairie some fifteen miles outside of Lawrence. This farming community’s tabernacle for many, many years no longer served local Kansans as a holy meetinghouse, having long since fallen into disrepair. This Kansas minister was mysteriously set ablaze one day.
There is a cemetery which sits next to this old shell-of-a-chapel. The shrine and burial ground…together have long represented one poltergeist site.
Storytellers narrate how, with gaping holes in the chapel roof, no raindrop could ever enter the old countryside kirk. No drop of rain ever did touch this parish’s dated, wooden floor.
The fate of these accursed grounds – on which our stone sanctuary was erected long, long ago – traces its doom to a yesteryear stabbing of one prominent Stull citizen. One of Stull’s own was killed by a stable hand. A stable hand who once labored in an old stone barn built aside quiet gravesites in this desolate Stull cemetery.
Years later, that old stone barn – the scene of this tragic, fateful occurrence – became the town church. And what a mistaken unholy conversion that was.
Kansas folklore has it that an old staircase – built too, out of stone – can be uncovered beneath a well which is located in the old ruined church basement. This, a staircase leading to the underworld.
This gateway – that old stone staircase, found beneath a basement well – can be reached but two times every year…and (thankfully) only two. Once, on Halloween night. And the other, on the Spring Equinox.
It is, after all, on Halloween that the unseen wall separating the dead from the living reaches its thinnest layer. Which is to say, on Halloween night one can tepidly tiptoe down that stairwell…to breach one of 7 “Gateways to Hell.”
In 1974, The Daily Kansan wrote of the Devil paying one his two semi-annual visits to Stull on Halloween night. Beelzebub’s other foray to Stull occurs in the Spring, at the Equinox.
The Evil One comes to Stull on Halloween night – less than a week from today – eagerly accompanying any cursed man or woman who wishes to venture down a regretful stone staircase flight. One of the seven “Gateways to Hell.”
Tales of infernal happenings grip this cemetery, laid beside that old stone church. Tales, told, then retold again and again for over 150 years.
One urban legend involved two brave souls who paid a visit to our spectral milieu one harrowing night. When out of nowhere, a fearsome wind arose. Tearing back to their car, overtaken by fear, what did they find? Their car was moved to the opposite side of the road.
Others impart those same recurring, chilling cemetery winds…rolling into Stull with no forewarning.
There is a story about how one man was knocked out by such a gust. A haunting plains breeze, having held this unfortunate cemetery guest in place for a time before he was finally able to break free, scampering from the graveyard’s haunted confines. Never to return again.
Lest us not forget how others have told of an old wooden crucifix which once hung on the church’s inner wall. As legend has it, the old crucifix would capsize at midnight, should a passerby ever dare to enter this unholy, haunted place.
One other legend involves Pope John Paul II, a private plane and the plain’s pilate.
As that plane carrying the Pope reached skies above eastern Kansas on a flight to Colorado, the Pope directed the pilate to intentionally bypass Stull. The Pope, refusing to fly over the possessed Stull cemetery, not wanting to cross paths with this very, unholy ground.
Others will tell of the visit a ghostly woman pays to this cemetery on Halloween night. The woman – always wearing her white dress – has been known to direct drivers to their untimely demise along the highway’s edge.
Its face resembles a horse’s face. The head found atop a long, thin, fur-covered torso could be mistaken for the head of a collie. Those wings? Wings of a bat, and leathery too, measuring two-and-a-half to three feet, from wing tip to shoulder. Its thick snake-like tail? This is a tail, fitting a demon. It’s horns…the devil’s horns, no doubt, resting above piercing red-orange eyes.
Standing nearly six feet tall and weighing close to 200 pounds, the Jersey Devil prowls the dense pine forest, cedar swamps and sandy back roads we find in New Jersey’s Pine Barrens…searching for its favorite delicacies, bellowing out a high-pitched scream, if by some chance, encountered.
Although tracked by fugitives, deserting soldiers, Hessian mercenaries from Revolutionary War times and escaped slaves – each group possessing finely-tuned hunting-and-gathering skills – no soul has ever caught the Jersey Devil. The swiftness and agility of this demon has allowed it to evade trackers for centuries.
On the menu for the Jersey Devil is poultry and livestock. If it’s very, very lucky, this malevolent spirit loves to feast on pigs.
Born in the early part of the 18th Century in Estellville, the Jersey Devil is the 13th child of a witch, Deborah Leeds. Its father, the devil himself.
Mother Leeds cursed her 13th child in frustration, already tired and worn, having raised her twelve other children. Deborah Leeds cried out, “Let it be the devil.” And it was…
This curse a mother cast upon her child came to fruition. Leading to a legendary and, unfortunately, a ghoulish transformation.
This damned boy grew cloven hooves, clawed hands and wings. The doomed little boy was no longer a boy. This ill-fated boy became New Jersey’s afflicted demon.
The Jersey Devil is nocturnal. This Tempter resides in forsaken towns found among the southernmost points of the Garden State.
Desolate Pine Barrens swamps and wetlands once facilitated low-grade ore needed to manufacture Revolutionary War munitions. “Bog-iron” towns took hold.
These “bog-iron” towns are long since abandoned, left untouched within one million harrowing Pine Barrens acres.
Decrepit buildings, outmoded blast furnaces, disused and crumbling 18th Century homes – all sitting quietly and uninterrupted for decades – became perfect neighborhoods for our Jersey Devil.
In 1909, several household pets were mysteriously killed. Hundreds of locals reported Jersey Devil sightings. Tracks matching no known animal were discovered in the snow. Schools and mills wisely closed, as cautionary measures. The Jersey Devil was nearby.
With over 1,700 square Pine Barrens miles to trek through, the Jersey Devil remains free to roam his forlorn terrain.
Few rile enough courage to venture through lonesome swamplands and forests blanketing in excess of 20% of New Jersey’s land area in pursuit of this furtive, skittish gargoyle.
Daniel Boone was not a Kansas guy. Daniel Boone lived in Pennsylvania, North Carolina, Kentucky and Missouri. But his son was a Kansas guy.
Daniel Boone’s son – Daniel Morgan Boone – settled in Kansas City, in the Westport neighborhood.
From Kansas City, Daniel Morgan Boone headed to Kansas – then, the Kansas Territory. Daniel Morgan Boone was one of the first settlers in the Kansas Territory.
Seth Hayes grew up in the same Kansas City neighborhood of Westport that Daniel Morgan Boone was from. Seth Hayes was a rancher. A tavern owner. And a publisher.
A frontiersman at heart, like Daniel Morgan Boone, Seth Hayes ventured out from Paris of the Plains to settle in the new Kansas Territory, building a log cabin for himself along the Neosho River.
Seth Hayes’s new home was in a section of the Kansas Territory known as the Grove. With the Grove sitting on the Santa Fe Trail, Seth Hayes’s log cabin became a trading post.
Seth Hayes, a bachelor, lived in his log cabin – now a trading post on the Santa Fe Trail – with his adopted daughter, a freed slave.
Hayes’s log cabin evolved from a trading post into a trading post and a restaurant – Hayes House.
Hayes House was run by a man named A.G. Boone.
A.G. Boone was the son of Daniel Morgan Boone’s brother, Jesse Boone. A.G. Boone was Daniel Boone’s grandson.
Seth Hays’s mother, Susannah Boone, was Daniel Boone’s eldest daughter. Seth Hayes’s father was William Hays. Making Seth Hayes Daniel Boone’s grandson.
Hayes House and Daniel Boone’s grandsons, A.G. and Seth.
Twenty-six would be the number of land banks which have been established, to date, in the great state of New York.
So far, twenty-six New York State towns, cities, villages and counties elected to go the land bank route since then-Governor Andrew Cuomo signed the Land Bank Program into law in July of 2011 – The Land Bank Act.
One of the tasks for New York land banks is to think through how to best address the nearly one million or so investor-owned properties in New York State which sit vacant – somewhere in the range of between 25,000 and 30,000 properties.
These vacant properties are too often positioned as write-offs for investors. While many of these “write-offs” could become affordable options for families who dream of one day becoming New York homeowners.
Thanks to The Land Bank Law, twenty-six New York cities, villages, towns and counties were able to draft their own unique “blue prints” to address housing needs within their distinct communities.
In New York, the municipality establishes a foreclosing governmental unit. The foreclosing governmental unit operates within guidelines established through local laws, ordinances and resolutions – the proverbial “home rule.”
Foreclosing governmental units have the capability to take possession of vacant, non-performing properties within the municipality. According to applicable municipal ordinances.
Oversight and governance for a New York land bank is bestowed upon a land bank boards of directors.
Here is the list of land banks which have been established in regions throughout New York State, to date.
Greater Syracuse
Buffalo Erie Niagara (Buffalo)
Lackawanna
Tonawanda/Erie County
Schenectady County
Chautauqua County
AmsterdamCounty
Newburgh
Broome County
Suffolk County
Rochester
Albany County
Capital Region Land Bank
Troy Community Land Bank
Oswego County
Finger Lakes Regional
Wayne County Regional
Tioga County
Steuben County
Kingston, Newburgh Community
Sullivan County
Greater Mohawk Valley
Ogdensburg
Nassau County
Suffolk County
Allegany, Cattaraugua, Chautauqua
Brad Lander is now the Democratic nominee for Congress in New York’s 10th District. New York’s 10th District includes lower Manhattan and parts of Brooklyn. Brad Lander was born in St. Louis, Missouri.
Missouri is widely recognized as having been the first state to set up a land bank – St. Louis Land Reutilization Authority (LRA). The country’s first land bank was established in Brad Lander’s hometown.
In 1971, LRA was created in St. Louis under Missouri’s land reutilization law. The nation’s first land bank.
In Brad Lander, Congress will soon be adding a land bank proponent to their Capitol Building roster.
Ninety miles east of Wichita, 100 miles north of Tulsa you find Fredonia, Kansas. Fredonia, Kansas was named after the Fredonia we find in New York State. Fredonia, Kansas was incorporated in 1871.
Eleven years after the first European settlers set foot in this Kansas community located at the southeast tip of the state alongside the Fall River, Fredonia was organized and a name for the town was chosen – Fredonia Town Company. That year was 1868.
Following the discovery of oil and gas in nearby Neodesha in 1892, the regional oil business ramped up in southeast Kansas. By 1900, Fredonia evolved into a regional energy center, a position Fredonia maintains to this day. Last year, seventy-two Fredonia oil wells produced 1,703,238 cumulative barrels of oil.
Since 1900, oil production in Fredonia has steadily increased, while industry efficiencies resulted in a streamlined exploration processes.
In the oil business, production bbls (barrels of oil) represents the volume of oil produced, annually. Whereas cumulative bbls (barrels of oil) represents the running total for all oil produced from a well, a field or a lease since the well, field or lease began production.
The highest count for Fredonia oil wells was registered in 2012, when the town had 212 wells. Those 212 wells produced 1,599,095 cumulative barrels of oil that year.
There were seven per cent fewer barrels of oil produced in Fredonia in 2012 than were produced last year, in 2026. Even though the number of active Fredonia oil wells in 2026 – 72 oil wells – represents only 33% of the number of Fredonia wells in 2012, when there were 212 wells.
The first time Fredonia produced in excess of one million cumulative barrels of oil was 1987 – 1,016,872 bbls. The 1,016,872 bbls were extracted through 120 wells.
Fredonia’s cumulative oil production hit the 1.5-million mark for the first time in 2006 – 1,508,415 bbls. There were 195 wells pumping oil in Fredonia that year.
Of Kansas’s 105 counties, Wilson County (Fredonia is located in Wilson County) is ranked #54 in terms of cumulative oil production.
The oil business has a strong foothold in Fredonia. Cherokee Wells, Viking Production and E and E Holdings are each based in Fredonia.
Salina, Kansas owes its founding to an expedition. Or rather, to a tour. Or rather, to be more specific, to a foot tour.
In 1857 a Scottish-born journalist, Free-State abolitionist, Civil War colonel for the Union army and future Kansas Congressman headed up a group that ventured west – by foot – from Fort Riley. Their goal? Find a new townsite.
That Colonel who led the foot tour was William A. Phillips. Colonel Phillips commanded the Indian Home Guard regiments during the Civil War.
To find his new townsite, Colonel Phillips led his men along the Smokey Hill River’s course. The Smokey Hill extends all the way to eastern Colorado. In Kansas, the Smokey Hill connects with the Republican River to form the Kansas River, just a tad east of Fort Riley in Junction City.
On their 35-mile foot tour, running low on supplies, Colonel Phillips and his men restocked in Manhattan. Then followed the bends of Blue River from Manhattan to Saline County.
Upon their arrival, on the banks of the Smoky Hill River, Colonel Phillips found an ideal setting. And what Colonel Phillips found would go on to become the very first settlement in the future Saline County.
Prior to Colonel Phillips arrival in today’s Saline County, the region had been claimed as hunting grounds by High Plains tribes. The High Plains tribes were hostile to American settlers. Attacks on settlers was commonplace. By 1858, the threat of those High Plains tribes attacks had been put to rest. Enabling Colonel Phillips to establish his settlement.
That same year, Colonel Phillips along with the group he led – David Phillips, Alexander M. Campbell Sr., A.C. Spillman, and James Muir – chartered the Salina Town Company with the Kansas territory legislature.
The following year Phillips, Phillips, Campbell, Spillman and Muir organized the surrounding area as Saline County.
The Kansas territory legislature approved the formation of five new Kansas territory counties. Saline County was one of the five.
Saline County was incorporated in 1860. Salina, Kansas – incorporated ten years later – would go on to become the county seat.
William A. Phillips was elected to the United States House of Representatives 1872. He served from 1873 through 1879.
Founded in Salina by Henry David Lee as the H.D. Lee Mercantile Company – originally, a grocery store – H.D. Lee Mercantile Company would go on to become Lee Jeans.
Lee Jeans opened their first garment factory in 1889. In Salina. Twenty-nine years after Salina was incorporated.
Today’s Old Bridge Township was established in the year 1869. Yet the beginning for Old Bridge involved an Old Bridge which was not, at its very beginning, Old Bridge.
Old Bridge Township was originally Madison Township. Named after President James Madison.
This name of Madison Township was later changed. From Madison Township to Old Bridge Township. This township name change took place in 1975.
The township name change was enacted so as to avoid confusing this Madison Township – the one located in Middlesex County – with the Madison located in northern New Jersey. In Morris County.
Yet long, long before there ever was an Old Bridge Township – and before that, long, long before there ever was a Madison Township – before the Garden State Parkway, Route 9, Route 18 and Route 34 winded through this town, Old Bridge Township started out as a 17th Century trading post.
The Old Bridge Township we know today traces its history back to 1683.
In 1683 the King of England granted 1,000 acres of land to John and Suzannah Brown. This settlement became, Brownsville.
One year later, this settlement, granted to the Browns by the king, became South Amboy.
There would be no Old Bridge without there first being, South Amboy.
Today’s Old Bridge started out as a trading post. A trading post which emerged in Brownsville after the English gained control over today’s Old Bridge from the Dutch. Leading to the Brown’s land grant from the king.
During the 17th Century, English settlers recognized how today’s Old Bridge Township – as a trading post – would enhance commercial interests through its location alongside Raritan Bay and South River.
The English recognized an opportunity through maritime commerce. And it was this opportunity to transport goods by ship which had been identified to be a perfect trade route junction.
In the 17th Century, goods made their way to today’s Old Bridge by stagecoach. Upon arrival in Old Bridge, goods could then be shipped further along by waterway – South River or Raritan Bay.
During the 17th Century, maritime commerce originating in today’s Old Bridge involved the use of flat-bottomed river boats. Horses pulled these vessels. Slow though these vessels were, maritime commerce for English merchants in what today is Old Bridge established the settlement’s foundation.
Found on these 17th Century horse-drawn barges would have been, primarily, flour. And later, oysters.
Oysters…
In times before harvesting oysters from Chesapeake Creek was decimated by polluted waters and overharvesting, during the 17th and 18th Centuries, getting oysters out of Chesapeake Creek represented a core commercial activity.
While the English were developing their trading post, Old Bridge represented the center of an unincorporated collection of plantations located to the east and to the west of the Raritan River. At that time, Old Bridge was not a town. Old Bridge was a settlement. A maritime head…among a collection of plantations.
Throughout the 17th and 18th Centuries, flour was arriving in today’s Old Bridge after having been packed into stagecoach boots. Flour arriving in Old Bridge was then loaded onto slow moving riverboats. On South River. Or Raritan Bay.
In the latter days of the 18th Century, the steamboat was invented…
For this settlement, the invention of the steamboat quickened how stagecoach-delivered flour could be transported along the river. Furthermore, the use of steamboats quickened the pace for the transport of flour across the Raritan Bay. To New York City markets.
Old Bridge is located just under 40 miles across Raritan Bay from Manhattan. There is no direct waterway route from Old Bridge to Manhattan. But there is a direct waterway route to Manhattan from South Amboy. The Laurence Harbor section of Old Bridge sits right next to South Amboy.
Through the advent of steamboats, Old Bridge’s economy grew. This old English settlement – where once one found gristmills, sawmills and shops – added banks, taverns and small homes to the landscape. Resting among a sleepy collection of plantations along South River and Raritan Bay, this bayside settlement was undergoing a transformation. This settlement was becoming a bustling bayside-riverside locale.
The beginning for what would go on to become New Jersey’s Old Bridge came in 1869. Through the formation of a town which once had been that 17th Century trading post. From which flour was had been shipped off to New York City. On steamboats.
In February of 1798, South Amboy, was incorporated.
When South Amboy was established, South Amboy included what later would become the independent townships of Monroe, Sayreville and a stand-alone South Amboy. As well as, Old Bridge.
Through an act of the New Jersey legislature in 1869, Madison Township was spun off from the consortium.
One hundred and six years later – in 1975 – Madison Township would become, Old Bridge Township.
For questions or comments about this article you can reach the author, Ted Ihde, by email – authortedihde@gmail.com – or at 816-699-6804.
Within the Kansas City Metropolitan Area, to the southeast Kansas City – a 20-minute drive from Kansas City’s Central Business District – 10 miles outside of Independence, with a land area totaling 10 square miles, bisected by Blue Parkway, we find Raytown.
The origin of Raytown goes back to how significant the Santa Fe Trail was to the opening up of the West to American settlement.
In the 1820’s, Raytown – at that time, a settlement known as Blue Ridge – was a trading post. Established as a stopover along the Santa Fe Trail.
Frontiersmen heading west rested up at this Blue Ridge settlement. Settlers purchased supplies they needed for their long trek west at Blue Ridge. They repaired their wagons. Settlers purchased flour, bacon and coffee at Blue Ridge. Settlers bought shoes for their horses at Blue Ridge. They visited the local Blue Ridge blacksmith. That local Blue Ridge blacksmith, coming to play a most significant role in Raytown’s history.
Attributed to how Blue Ridge has been written into the annals of our American story is the role Blue Ridge took on along the Santa Fe Trail.
Early in the 19th Century, Blue Ridge served as a “refueling depot” for those who confronted the rigors of the Plains as they pursued adventure.
Blue Ridge was a busy post along the Santa Fe. Iron workers, wagon makers and blacksmiths flocked to Blue Ridge. Tradesmen. Tradesmen attracted to opportunities found in Blue Ridge emanating from the ever-growing number of wagon trains traveling the Santa Fe Trail.
This Blue Ridge settlement came to be named for one such tradesman. A tradesman who came from the East. Arriving at Blue Ridge to partake in business opportunities created by Santa Fe Trail traffic. This tradesman was William Ray.
William Ray left his native Ohio, opting to make a new home for himself at Blue Ridge. William Ray built a new life for himself in Missouri. At this settlement along the Santa Fe Trail which would one day be named for him.
William Ray was a tradesman. William Ray was a blacksmith. As a blacksmith along the Santa Fe Trail, the shop William Ray established for himself was located at today what would be the corner of Raytown Road and 63rd Street. In the heart of Raytown.
This settlement of Blue Ridge would later come to be known as Ray’s Town. Ray’s Town…named for our Blue Ridge blacksmith from Ohio, William Ray.
William Ray was born in Butler County, Ohio in 1808. William Ray arrived in Missouri in 1848. Purchasing seven acres of land where today 63rd Street meets Raytown Road. In Raytown.
That acreage acquired by William Ray along the Santa Fe Trail was located at a junction where several trade routes met.
With his blacksmith shop – and his seven acres -situated at the heart of those Blue Ridge trade routes, William Ray’s address positioned him at the nucleus of where locals were clamoring for better roads to be built in Blue Ridge. The construction of new and improved roads – I.e.: local trade routes – which would connect Blue Ridge to the local, larger nearby markets of Independence and Kansas City.
William Ray’s blacksmith shop was located where those new roads would emanate from. Through William Ray’s geographical relevance, Blue Ridge locals started referring to Blue Ridge as “Ray’s Town.” Because planned growth for Blue Ridge involved the building of new roads which were to have beginning points at what today is the intersection of 63rd Street and Raytown Road. William Ray’s seven acres. William Ray’s blacksmith shop.
Within the American story there is an inescapability one encounters in the forever-association between the Santa Fe Trail and Blue Ridge. I.e.: Ray’s Town. I.e.: Raytown.
In Raytown today, the path Blue Ridge Boulevard follows is the path of the original Santa Fe Trail. Yet there is no “blue ridge” in Raytown. There never was a blue ridge in Raytown.
The Blue Ridge Mountains…
Blue Ridge Parkway in Raytown was named after a mountain range – the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Frontiersmen arriving at what would be, first, Blue Ridge, then later, Ray’s Town, then later, Raytown were taken back by how the wooded ridges they encountered in Missouri reminded them of the high wooded ridges familiar to them in the Blue Ridge Mountains. A mountain range located where their expedition west – to Missouri – began.
William Ray’s contribution to Raytown proved to be long lasting. Although William Ray’s residence in Raytown was nothing of the sort.
William Ray resided in Blue Ridge for only five years. Leaving Blue Ridge in 1853.
The story of William Ray leaving Blue Ridge – as well as the story of William Ray arriving in Blue Ridge – are each interwoven with famous American trails heading west.
William Ray left Blue Ridge for Oregon in 1853. To live near his children. William Ray’s children lived in Oregon.
The beginning point for the Oregon Trail is found in Missouri. In Independence, Missouri.
The beginning point for the Oregon Trail – the trail which took William Ray’s children west, from Missouri to Oregon – is located ten miles from where William Ray had his blacksmith shop. At the corner of today what would be 63rd Street and Raytown Road. In Raytown.
Trenton’s population peaked in the mid-1950’s. While at the same time, socioeconomic challenges were gripping Trenton. And industrial cities like Trenton. Throughout the United States.
Trenton, like countless mid-Century manufacturing hubs, encountered substantial problems resulting from a national movement towards de-industrialization. Akron. Detroit. St. Louis. Cleveland. Trenton. To name but a few. Each, once an industrial powerhouse. Each, sadly brought to their knees by globalization. By de-industrialization. By an economy which moved away from manufacturing.
Problems accompanying de-industrialization can be seen in circumstances which overtook labor. Decimating workers. Shuttering factories.
The platform for this problem…
As northern industrial cities grew, workers migrated from southern states to northern cities which possessed strong manufacturing bases. Workers pursued higher paying jobs found in factories. Workers went north to attain higher wages and good weekly paychecks. They found what they were looking for in northern manufacturing cities.
Yet the economy was changing…
A notable portion of mid-century workers who came to Trenton lacked the skill sets required to retain wages which were sufficient enough to support the purchase of (and the upkeep of) homes as the economy changed. As factory jobs were shed. As the United States de-industrialized.
Lacking the incomes needed to update their homes and pay property taxes, over time, more and more Trenton homes fell into a state of disrepair.
An inability to afford the upkeep of homes, combined with (arguably, by some) a trend towards lax oversight by the City in regard to enforcing housing maintenance standards led to the deterioration of Trenton’s housing stock. Which, when combined with White flight, redlining by lenders and suburbanization, led to a decrease in center city Trenton home values. A problem which was then compounded by a newfound ease in the commute by workers into (and out of) Trenton.
Easy commutes exacerbated center city housing challenges. The ability to commute to and from jobs in cities such as Trenton was made possible by the construction of roads and highways.
One could buy a home in the suburbs. Then drive to their job in Trenton. Leading to a decrease in demand for center city Trenton homes. A perfect elixir for urban blight.
Today upwards of 60% of those who live in Trenton rent. Whereas in Mercer County – as well as in New Jersey overall – the rental rate is between 30% to 40%. A disproportionately high percentage of Trenton residents rent.
The consequence? Lack of homeownership.
In Trenton one will see hundreds of vacant lots, vacant buildings and vacant homes. The result of a hollowing out of Trenton’s industrial base. Redlining. And easy commutes. Each contributing in their own unique way to a deterioration of Trenton’s center city housing stock.
This one time industrial powerhouse certainly owns its share of economic and housing challenges. Yet, with thousands of vacant lots, vacant buildings and vacant homes, this former Mid-Atlantic industrial heavyweight also possesses the ingredients to establish processes to transition now non-performing properties to affordable homes.
The construction of new homes. Older homes renovated. Repurposed center city made available to those who would like call Trenton “home.” As homeowners. Not as renters. While at the same time, increasing the city’s property tax base. Decreasing blight.
The solution?
A comprehensive land bank in Trenton. Or, a commitment made by City officials to the issuance of RFP’s. RFP’s which real estate developers could submit Responses to.
