Our Road to Insanity, But A Destination to Our Hearts: My Parkway Schtick

There are few things as quintessentially New Jersey as the Garden State Parkway. It starts and ends at no major destinations, yet it goes everywhere that’s important in the state, and connects everything in the state to everything else. It’s the fastest way to get down the Shore from North Jersey, except when it’s snarled up in traffic, which is 98 percent of the time, except in mid-July, when it’s 100 percent of the time. But let there be no doubt, in Jersey, it’s our Main Drag, even though there aren’t any businesses to mention on it and there aren’t any parades on it, or at least, none that I’ve heard of.

The Real Seal of the State of New Jersey

So, my fellow New Jerseyans, here is my Talking Points Memo on the Parkway. If you ever find yourself at a bar, or a job interview, with nothing to talk about, and you’re stunted by the silence, you can bring up these novel thoughts about the Parkway and its central role in the life of the state, and our lives in particular.

1.   It’s New Jersey’s Own Version of a High Interest Loan – Hey, didn’t we finish paying for the Parkway back in ’73? Or was it ’86? Why are we still paying for tolls for a route that was completed when David Lee Roth still led Van Halen? And why have tolls increased at such an astronomical rate? When I was a kid, back in the 80’s, the tolls were 10¢. Then in the 90’s they went up to a Quarter, then a few years passed by and now they’re $1.50 and up. What happened? Who is getting rich here? Besides, the tollbooths look as crummy as ever.

I figure that if you’re going to keep the tolls this high, we need more services on the Parkway. First, they should offer free neck messages at the rest stops. And the food should be complementary. And taste good. And there shouldn’t be weird people at the rest stops…you know, the kind that sing in front of the bathrooms…how did they get there anyway? Are they licensed drivers?

And then there’s the $1 Billion question: when will the tolls stop? When will we be done with paying for the Parkway and not have to sweat about having change or getting caught up in that ridiculous Toll booth traffic?

2.   There are No Alternates or Real U-Turns – Okay, this really gets on my nerves. Driving down the Parkway is a real commitment, because if you need to turn around, it’s going to be a logistical nightmare, if not an impossibility. There are very few if any genuine U-Turns. Each exit is a one-way portal to its own Jerseyesque Dimension. And if you get caught up in a bottleneck, there are no parallel roads. Route 9 does go along the Parkway in some areas, but its path weaves along far too erratically to be counted on.

3.   Old People Rule It – The Garden State Parkway is New Jersey’s equivalent to a moving rest home. I cannot think of any other highway in the nation that is so proportionally used by such a high percentage of the geriatrically-challenged. Don’t take my word for it. Next time you’re slowly cruising south of the Driscoll Bridge, take a look at the cars around you. In the busses? Old people heading to Atlantic City. In the cars? You guessed it. Old people heading to Atlantic City.

4.   Man Eating Sharks Swim Next to and Under It – This is an historical fact. The Parkway, when it gets south of the Heaven-scaping Driscoll Bridge, has long portions which are built directly atop of some of the state’s richest salt water wetlands. And in these dark, murky waters are maneating bullsharks. Don’t believe me? You don’t have to. Just go and see “Jaws.” The inspiration for that movie came from a series of inland shark attacks in the early 1900’s along the present-day path of the Parkway. So if you break down in Monmouth County, don’t go in the water. Really. I’m not kidding. Don’t even play around it.

5.   Zombies are Sure to Destroy it On Judgment Day – Okay, this may seem like a strange point, but bear with me here. The Parkway was constructed through and aside some of the state’s largest and oldest cemeteries, particularly in Essex county. In fact, there is a mile-long portion near Newark that cuts directly through a cemetery that has to be a square mile in size. Well, if you believe in the Zombie apocalypse – and most New Jerseyans do – you know that when the dead rise they’re going to be pissed and hungry, and they’re going to start their feeding at the most logical of places: The Garden State Parkway. So if you don’t want to get caught up in World War Z as it breaks out in Essex County, be sure to have your EZ-Pass so you can speed right through.

6.   It Goes Down the Shore, and Through Our Hearts – If you live in New Jersey, and you do not love and cherish one or more of the Shore towns during the summertime, then you have no right to live here. In fact, it’s in the State Constitution. You have to love the Shore. You have to be willing to schlep down there a few times each summer, in the broiling heat, along the Parkway, to enjoy yourself and while you get into a huge argument with your kids in the back seat. And you have to pay for the tolls, and gas, and the parking. But you have to love it too. Believe me, I’ve never felt more blessed then when, over the past few years, I’ve finally sat down in the sand after a long journey on the Parkway with my wife and kid at, say, Wildwood, on an August day. The sound of the sea, the alternating pretzel and pizza scents in the air, the cackling of laughter from the rides…the hint of “Born to Run” in the background…it makes life worth living.

So that’s my Ode to the Parkway. I can’t think of any other major points concerning it - either positive or negative. If you can, be sure to add your comment. I’d love to hear from you. But until I do, I’ll keep a Cash Lane open for you at the Raritan Tolls…

New Jersey's Quakers: Their Nonviolent Legacy Still Echoes in Name and Law

New Jersey’s history is a rich one, especially its now underappreciated but intense a religious past. New Jerseyans aren’t the most religious of Americans, at least not anymore. Yes, a look around our cities and suburbs reveals a wide variety of faiths; Jews, Catholics, Muslims, Sikhs, Buddhists and Hindus all share space in our small state. And let us not forget the increasingly vocal minority of nonbelievers who are making their voices heard through their own organizations. Then there are a lot of my own neighbors, who tend to treat religion like it’s a salad bar, hopping from church to church depending on all sorts of factors, from requested church contributions to the personality of the leading priest or pastor. I say to them, bless you all. You keep our state an interesting, vibrant place - filled with people concerned with this life and the next.

But here and there – you don’t see them so prominently these days – you may notice a coworker or a friend refer to church as “Meeting.” Perhaps you may spot one of their “Meeting Houses” – typically a plain white or brick structure, unassuming in nature. Yet their intellectual, historical and spiritual contributions to the state of New Jersey are so prevalent that much of our landscape still bears their name or at least their legacy. To each other they’re known as “The Society of Friends,” but to the rest of us, we call them Quakers.

Stony Brook Quaker Meeting House, Princeton, N.J.

They’re usually associated with William Penn’s neighboring Pennsylvania, yet

The Garden State owes this small religious minority a debt that can never be repaid. Place-names like Quakerbridge, Penns Neck, Pennsauken and dozens of others attest to their presence. More importantly, the legacy of religious freedom, toleration and the lack of an established Church – core elements of our state’s own Constitution - testify to their heritage of intellectual vigor, personal mercy and liberality.

There are a lot of qualities of the Quakers worth recounting, but one in particular I find most compelling simply because it’s gotten them into the most trouble with authorities over the past four centuries (they were founded in England in the late 1640’s). Quakers are Christians, but their interpretation of Christianity demands political and personal pacifism. Quakers despise all forms of physical violence and religious coercion. Since their founding to today, they will tell you that the best way to worship Jesus is to continually try, in our imperfect human form, to imitate him. And since Jesus never killed anyone, or fought in any wars, or burned any witches, or practiced any form of religious violence, then no one should. Period.

In both England and America, this literal embracing of pacifism got them fined, jailed, exiled, whipped, disqualified from the voting rolls and elected office, publicly humiliated and executed. Puritans in both England and New England, right up to the end of the 1600’s, regarded Quakers as their polar opposites and persecuted them relentlessly. Yet by the time of the American Revolution, Quakers comprised of a significant minority in North America, and in New Jersey in particular. Eventually their beliefs concerning religious freedom made their way into New Jersey’s first Constitution of 1776:

      “That no person shall ever, within this Colony, be

      deprived of the inestimable privilege of worshipping Almighty God

      in a manner agreeable to the dictates of his own conscience; nor,

      under any pretence whatever, be compelled to attend any place of

      worship, contrary to his own faith and judgment; nor shall any

      person, within this Colony, ever be obliged to pay tithes, taxes

      or any other rates, for the purpose of building or repairing any

      other church or churches, place or places of worship, or for the

      maintenance of any minister or ministry, contrary to what he

      believes to be right, or has deliberately or voluntarily engaged

      himself to perform.”

But even with victory in the Revolution, the Quaker dedication to non-violence would still create tensions with New Jersey. And this is where it gets most interesting, at least for me. Over the course of my research for my A.P. history class, I came upon an absolutely fascinating document from July of 1833. Specifically, the document is a formal petition from New Jersey’s Quakers to the State Legislature in Trenton. It is a document of principle, of a people dedicated to the cause of humanity, of a people who were ready at any time – even in an age when their formal persecution was over – to pay a steep price for their beliefs.

In 1833 the Legislature was considering a new bill addressing the state militia. As I’ve said in an earlier blog, the business of being armed and in the militia (New Jersey’s military service) was a social one. Militia service was considered an important part of civic life. The bill would continue the state law demanding, in times of need, all armed men to defend it. But in a new twist, those who opposed military service (i.e. Quakers) could opt out, but would still have to pay a sort of ‘substitution tax’ in lieu of their duty. The bill would then direct such monies to public education or some other non-violent, state-provided service.

The Quakers, though admitting that the era of persecution had passed, would not be moved. They would not serve, ever, in the state’s militia, nor would they pay any tax that acknowledged the state’s legitimate power to engage in the business of killing. And if this resulted in Quakers going to prison, then, so be it:

“As mankind are brought under the influence of the spirit of Christ Jesus, and fully obey his divine commands, wars and fightings must cease…To their sincerity in this belief, our predecessors invariably bore testimony, frequently suffering…long and cruel imprisonment…That which our Lord has forbidden us no human enactments can make lawful; when these require us to violate the divine law, we submit to suffer all that man may be permitted to inflict, rather than wound our consciences.”

What a remarkable group of people. The issue that fascinates me here is not just that the Quakers were strong believers in gentleness and pacifism, they were, even in the years after religious freedom had been secured, still willing to lose their liberty for such faith. The decades of freedom that followed the Revolution had not made them complacent. They never sought to hurt anyone; nonviolence was at the core of their being and they weren’t afraid to acknowledge it – even to their legislators in Trenton. They were willing to walk the walk, even if that path ended in poverty, humiliation and prison. And prison in the 1830’s was not a place where people went to sit around or lift weights or make license plates; it was a place where after a month or two you usually got sick - and died.

I tried to find out if their request for an amendment to the bill was ever fulfilled but I could not. I’ll keep looking though. Nevertheless, I do not believe that any Quaker was ever arrested before or since then for refusal to serve in any of New Jersey’s military forces.

Knowing what I now know about the Quaker legacy and presence here in New Jersey, I think I’ll visit the Stony Brook Quaker Meeting House here in Princeton this weekend. I need to pay my respects to some of the most progressive builders of the Garden State.

Jersey Scared: In 1812, New Jersey's Legislature Wanted to Give Peace a Chance

If the State of New Jersey is associated with any conflict in American history, it is the War of Independence. Our state is justifiably known as the "Crossroads of the Revolution." A look at any map of the state, even a modern version, would amply demonstrate this with the abundance of national parks and historic sights. Washington saved the Revolution at Trenton, boosted it at Princeton, preserved it (and the Continental Army) through two harsh Morristown winters. Almost every New Jersey city, town and township has an assortment of Revolutionary-Era street names; Washington, Hamilton, Madison, Lafayette.

Broadside image, War of 1812

Okay, but what about the next war? Ah, it may have been a while since you were in history class, but there were several conflicts between the Revolution and the Civil War. The next war is commonly believed to be some kind of repeat of the Revolution, but believe me, it wasn't. It was the War of 1812. It was a long war that resulted in a massive foreign invasion, the burning of Washington, D.C. (with the Capitol and White House reduced to smoldering ruins) and the rise of one ruthless, genocidal Democrat by the name of Andrew Jackson. Jackson, if you recall, decimated an invading British army at the Battle of New Orleans in 1814.

But what about New Jersey? Surely, the patriots of the Garden State, upon hearing of the war's start in 1812, were ready to repeat their noble duty. Certainly they were ready to grab their muskets, brush off their boots and rush the Shore to give the invading British the hearty welcome they deserved. Yes, of course, these New Jerseyans mobilized to defend the Garden State. They were, surely, Jersey Strong.

Yeah, try Jersey Wrong. Or at least, Jersey Scared. War was the last, the very lastoption they wanted. In November of 1812, with the conflict already raging, the New Jersey Legislature sent a comprehensive petition against the war to Congress. In my opinion the petition is one of the most fascinating documents in American History, and predicts many of the constitutional arguments and controversies that would be at the center of future wars - especially Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan.

The document opens by declaring that the national government had foolishly rushed into conflict, and by doing so, threatened the political and economic gains of the hard-fought Revolution. It puts the blame of conflict solidly on the shoulders of the president, that being the Madison Administration.

"The admonitions of prudence, the force of reason and justice, and the remonstrances of thousands have been alike ineffectual and disregarded-a great, prosperous and happy nation, without preparation have suddenly plunged into an unnecessary, and as we fear, hopeless war."

New Jersey's leaders also warned Federal Authorities, in an almost defeatist like fashion, of who the nation had taken on:

"...war with Great Britain, in which the present administration has plunged the United States, was inexpedient, ill-timed and most dangerously impolitic---sacrificing at once countless blessings, and incurring all the hazards and losses of men and treasure, necessarily resulting from a contest with a nation possessing so many means to annoy and distress us."

The Legislature then brought up a now accepted belief in American military doctrine: if you're going to have a war, know - or at least have a plan - for how it will end:

"The [Madison] administration being evidently chargeable with the multiplied disasters which have attended our arms, and consigned to captivity or death so many thousands of brave men, without the attainment of a single important object."

What really worried Trenton wasn't Britain, it was a certain vertically-challenged, maniacal French leader: Napoleon. Britain, it seemed, could be reasoned with; it might be open to compromise, whereby a "Devil's Deal" with the self-declared French emperor would be much more hazardous. In fact, the Trenton representatives not only citied this, but threw in a not so vague threat of the Garden State's secession from the Union itself:

"...we view with inexpressible concern the course of that destructive policy which leads to a connexion with the military despotism of France; and if it should happen, as our fears suggest, that a convention or confederacy with that power...will be considered by us more dangerous than the war itself, and as tending, in its consequences, to the dissolution of the union of the United States."

How long would the war go on? What were its goals? To answer these questions, Trenton demanded that Congress turn away from the machinations of war and instead immediately engage upon an investigation into how it all got started.

Today, of course, we know that one of the foremot causes of the War of 1812 was the British practice of impressment, or blatant kidnapping of American sailors at sea. New Jersey's sustenance was still largely maritime-based at this time, and the presence of the Royal Navy right off our coast was a constant and sometimes visible one. In the years between the Revolution and 1812, British warships had taken Americans aboard their ships to work and fight - and die. Frequently, many of those taken were not, in fact, born here and were recent British and Irish Immigrants. The British, in their defense, frequently citied this fact.

For the Representatives at Trenton, this British concern was acknowledged. Yes, the petition stated, impressment was horrendous and must be stopped, but:

"a principal object of the war is to obtain redress against the British practice of impressment...we do hereby declare our solemn conviction that a war at the expense of American blood and treasure to protect British subjects on the high seas from their due allegiance to their country, would be unjust, and that the abuse of this practice in regard to American seamen may be guarded against by an arrangement between the two foreign governments..."

So what about all of those immigrants serving on American ships? The answer couldn't be sharper: if the British want them, they can have them. Don't endanger American peace and commerce for their sake! Not exactly the noblest of statements, I'd say...but these are desperate words in desperate times.

While, to my knowledge, the war never directly touched New Jersey territory, it would indeed wind up to be the profitless disaster that the Trenton representatives had predicted. The war, fought to a draw, devastated portions of the U.S. and Canada, and was settled by the Treaty of Ghent. And that New Orleans battle? It occurred two weeks after the peace treaty was signed. Talk about missing the email!

Still, I think we shouldn't be too hard on our early legislators. They were just a tiny component of an emerging nation with a shaky constitutional order. They were afraid, but their concerns led to important questions that should be asked before and during any national conflict.

Mr. Einstein Goes to Trenton

One of the great things about studying New Jersey’s history, and more specifically, Trenton’s history, is that most people simply don’t know it. Yes, my high school students know that our state and its capital city were at the “Crossroads of the Revolution.” Today numerous plaques and signs attest to where Washington slept, where his troops clashed and where they dashed – usually in retreat. But that’s about it. Otherwise, if you ask most Americans, they would tell you that New Jersey’s role in national or international history isn’t really worth noting. Sure, many surely tell you, though the state is old, its history doesn’t compare with the drama of, say, the Civil War inferno that decimated Virginia’s capital of Richmond or the Japanese 1941 Attack on Hawaii’scapital, Honolulu.

Our collective attitude towards Trenton is reflected in the dismal condition we find our state capital in. Though Trenton is a small city, aside from a five or six block long historic corridor along State Street, its schools are literally rotting, its streets are reeling from a violent crime wave, its people suffering from horrendous poverty and unemployment. And it’s only early March. Only God knows how much the situation will deteriorate in the unforgiveable Jersey heat of the coming summer months.

As a political center, politics in Trenton have always been a mess, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t invoke a sense of pride and dignity. We’ve had many slick governors in the past who have given in to a variety of temptations, both in finance and in flesh, but to my knowledge it’s never been this bad. We now have a governor who, along with his appointees, clearly engages in dangerous acts of undeserved and unpredictable collective punishment against the people of New Jersey for political reasons.  Two cases, of course, stand out prominently here, from the intentional blockage at the George Washington Bridge to the disgusting manipulation of Sandy aid.

It wasn’t always like this, and it could be great again. And I’m talking about Trenton, its streets, its politics. It was great. There were some truly astounding moments in history that took place there, some right within the walls of our State Capitol.

One of the most interesting examples occurred almost exactly 80 years ago, in April of 1934.

Like March 2014, April of 1934 was a tough year for New Jersey. The state was suffering from economic turmoil as a result of a nation-wide financial depression (and I don’t care what any government-paid economist says, we’re living in a depression right now). Jersey schools were suffering from budget cuts. Teachers went unpaid. Rutgers was firing professors by the dozen as its buildings deteriorated due to lack of proper maintenance. General unemployment continued to worsen as factories shut down, banks closed and politicians faltered.

Overseas the situation was even more menacing than today. In faraway democratic Germany, a new Chancellor had just been elected. Adolf Hitler and his party of “National Socialists” promised most Germans that a resurgent Fatherland was in the offing…but to get to that new apex, national fury would have to be turned on one of that nation’s oldest and most integrated of minorities, the Jews. And it was at this intersection of such diverse historical currents that Trenton witnessed one of its finest – and foretelling - moments. There’s no plaque – at least none that I’ve ever seen – commemorating the day, but there should be.

On April 10^th 1934 the New Jersey Legislature took time away from its usual wrangling and political machinations to welcome a special guest – a new immigrant – who had recently moved to the state. While no one probably knew it at the time, the lives of millions, the fates of entire nations and empires, weighed upon the small man’s shoulders.

When Albert Einstein took the podium of the Assembly Chamber in Trenton on that day, he was given a roaring welcome. The chamber was packed to capacity as members of both legislative houses, the governor and numerous onlookers marveled at the German genius. He had already accomplished so much.

First he thanked New Jersey’s highest elected body for welcoming him, calling

New Jersey's Assembly Chamber; as in Congress, 

great things happened here

our land “blessed.” The scientist, speaking in German though his translator (a Newark Rabbi), praised New Jersey and the nation, while at the same time possibly hinting at the legislative events in his native Germany:

“I consider myself happy to live and be permitted to labor in this blessed land. Many before me, who had found a new home and a safe refuge in this land, experienced the same sensation…

But this is not enough. I am today the recipient of a festive official welcome from those men in whose hands are entrusted the lawmaking and administration of the State of New Jersey. I appreciate this honor so much the more, since I am enabled to judge for myself how much depends especially in these times upon your activities.”

His vexation and fear at a rapidly Nazifying but still somewhat democratic Germany was obvious from that quote. When the illustrious scientist spoke of “these times,” I have little doubt that he was wasn’t pointing to a certain vicious, anti-Semitic but elected German leader. Einstein knew that Hitler was going to be a menace, even on that day on the floor of the New Jersey Assembly Chamber. And while Hitler had his own secret agenda, Einstein had his too (but more on that a bit later).

Einstein went on to thank the Legislature and claim that his stature did not deserve the attention already warranted. He applauded the state and the nation’s embracing of the sciences, and government sponsorship of scientific activity and experimentation. Einstein was already firmly aware of the wide extent of cooperation between the German government and its own scientific and academic communities; he was obviously glad to see that same relationships at work here.

Einstein then waved the elected representatives of the Garden State goodbye, got into a car and went back to his home in Princeton. There, along with many other designs and concepts, one in particular was rolling around in his head. It was a dangerous idea, to be sure, but one that he felt alarming enough by 1939 to warrant President Roosevelt's direct attention. After all, many in Europe – which by the late 30’s was increasingly shaking under the Nazi shadow - were already working on it. In August of 1939, just a few years after his hailing of the cooperation of science and government in the New Jersey Statehouse, Einstein, thinking of the almost supernatural power of the atomic energy, wrote this to the White House:

“This new phenomenon would also lead to the construction of bombs, and it is conceivable -- though much less certain -- that extremely powerful bombs of a new type may thus be constructed. A single bomb of this type, carried by boat and exploded in a port, might very well destroy the whole port together with some of the surrounding territory…”

A brilliant, eccentric scientist. The rise of a dictator out of a democracy. A Legislature acting against anti-Semitism. The specter of a Nazi super-weapon. The genesis of the Manhattan Project. World War II. Hiroshima. Nagasaki. Victory. So many events, so many paths, but for a moment in the early Spring of 1934, they all intersected – in Trenton.

So the next time you’re driving through Trenton, or dare I say, walking around in the vicinity of our State House, have some respect. You don’t have to be an Einstein to know that amazing things happened there.