Sad History

As something of a history buff, it depresses me, somewhat, that most of my fellow citizens betray little interest, and no passion, for matters past.

Then again, they also display little interest and – with notable exceptions – little passion, for matters political. This alarms me even more, as our freedom depends upon our willingness to become educated and to cast pro-freedom votes. Indeed, I aver the inextricable connection between historical knowledge and freedom; unless we know where we’ve been and how we got there, we can’t know where we are or where we’re going.

History informs all other aspects of life. Whether that history be social – how did people interact? – military – what did men sacrifice for freedom? – of even industrial – how was our modern economy and environment shaped? – a free, informed people need to understand it. In some cases, preserving vestiges of the past, as a reminder of the road traveled heretofore, serves the purpose of greatly informing the present. Obviously, not every old structure, or notable location, warrants perpetual preservation. But, certainly, some exemplars of past events deserve protection and promotion.

New Jersey, generally, does a lousy job at this.

Recently, I ventured to points south, to join similarly inclined folks – including a few thousand heavily armed men (and a few women) – at a North South Skirmish Association shoot in Winchester, VA. Southerners – even Virginians – take their history, and especially their Civil War history – more seriously than we do. The entire Shenandoah Valley brims with signs, markers, maps, and the like, to guide an interested visitor to the various sites of note. And we’re not talking strictly national parks; New Market – the site of a modest battle and, this last weekend, an enormous reenactment encampment – is a state park.

But, obviously, someone there possesses the requisite vision to make history attractive to the public, even if that requires a gimmick.

We also visited Harpers Ferry and the Queen Mother of all historic sites: Gettysburg. Both are National Parks, of course, but both might serve as exemplars for how NJ might better interest its residents in their unique and fascinating history.

While certainly not a battlefield, Paterson serves as an example of what might be, and an abject lesson about the patent failures of NJ government, on all levels.

Last year, I visited the Princeton battlefield, and found it underwhelming. The signage and interpretation were poor, the maintenance spotty. But compared to Paterson, it represents a crown jewel.

This past weekend, never having visited Great Falls before, the family and I embarked on the short journey to scenic Paterson to view one of what should be NJ’s great attractions.

We shoulda oughta stayed at home.

What a disaster.

Now, transforming a present and past industrial site into a tourist Mecca requires no little imagination. Paterson will never be mistaken for Allaire or Sturbridge. But it might, at least, perform the basic service of putting up a sign.

Well, actually, it did. During our short trip, we saw several newish signs, each bearing the name of the Mayor – Jose "Joey" Torres. I doubt the signs cost too much money, but whatever the municipality spends to put its Mayor’s name on every public facility is too much.

The parking lot looks as if it were last paved before Alexander Hamilton – a statue of whom overlooks the falls – met Aaron Burr. Oh, another sign proclaims the pending construction of an amphitheater on site, a wonderful addition, no doubt, but given the choice between – say – picking up the litter and building such a structure, it seems that simple maintenance comes first.

A pedestrian walk along old mill races might be attractive -- were the slightest attention paid to maintenance: they are silting up, covered in litter and goose dung, and crossing the street to get there takes one’s life in one’s hands. The walkways over the falls are unmarked, "painted" a tasteful shade of brown (in those few areas where the public spirited residents haven’t "tagged" them), and the "lawns" amount to nothing more than unmown, litter strewn messes. The pathways -- again unmarked, last saw a rake long ago.

Now, I’m certain that Mayor Torres – having ensured that the signs all spell his name right – has many important functions to administer. And amphitheaters probably look better on a political resume than litter control. But wouldn’t it be a good municipal, county, and state strategy to make one of NJ’s greatest natural beauties – industrialization notwithstanding – an attractive, desirable destination?

Morris County, for instance, puts non-violent offenders to work picking up litter, etc., in a program called SLAP; would not Paterson benefit from the attention of those seeking to contribute to the common good while paying their debt to society? An "adopt a park" sign appears over the mill race walkway; these adoptive parents ought to be sued for gross neglect of their charge. Could not the spirit of volunteerism be harnessed – say in the public schools, which spend at least $16,000 per kid – perhaps on Earth Day or some such, encouraging them to make their City a better place to live and visit? After all, not every problem requires money to solve.

Our industrial heritage will never match our Revolutionary heritage in pizzazz; the reenactment of the Battle of Monmouth will attract more interest than an elderly factory. But if people get their history while out for a pleasant walk along a clean path in a well maintained park, all the better. Combine the history with the natural beauty of the river and the Falls.

It wouldn’t take much to make Great Falls into a destination to anticipate rather than an eyesore to avoid. Alas, Paterson, Passaic County, and the State seem insufficient to the challenge.