History comes alive at old tavern

bergen record ^ | 11.30.08 | JOSEPH AX

[Coleus]

ALPINE — The tavern’s visitors nodded in rhythm as a musician sang 19th-century songs, drinking hot cider and savoring bread and cheese.

 

At the Kearney House in Palisades Interstate Park in Alpine, Michael Giorgio, 6, listens to a timeless song from historian Thaddeus MacGregor. With a roaring hearth, songs and stories were grand entertainment before radio, TV and the Internet.

A fire crackled in a hearth near the table, heating a kettle of water for cleaning dishes after the meal. A young woman in a dress served drinks, while the host — the floppy brim of his traditional slouch hat bouncing with every exclamation — told stories in the corner.  It was a scene right out of the 1800s … except, of course, for the modern clothing worn by visitors and flashes of light from their digital cameras.  The historic Kearney House hosted its annual post-Thanksgiving celebration Saturday, giving visitors a peek at life in North Jersey before the Industrial Revolution.  The event continues today from 1 to 4 p.m., with a suggested donation of $3 for adults and $1 for children.

"It’s so well-preserved," said Fort Lee native Lynn Paulison, as she wandered through the second-floor bedroom with her sister, Lisa Carson; Carson’s son Cole, 8; and Cole’s friend Hugo, 9. "It’s really pretty authentic."  "It’s kind of cool that it’s still standing," Cole said.  Tucked into the cliffs of Palisade Interstate Park, the Kearney House is the oldest building in the park’s New Jersey section. The site is named for James and Rachel Kearney, who moved into the house in 1817.  After James Kearney’s death in 1831, Rachel Kearney ran a tavern out of the home for dockworkers, ship crews and tradesmen for decades. Eric Nelsen, director of the house and host of today’s event, runs several tavern nights every year to remind visitors of the site’s history.  The house has no running or hot water, and no electricity. But preserving the sense of community that the tavern provided to those who relied on the Hudson for a livelihood is most important, Nelsen said.

"I think it’s authentic when you have people in a room, enjoying acoustic music together," he said.  "That’s the authenticity we’re striving for, the spirit."  The house was also used as a park police station in the early 1900s before becoming a historic site, thanks in part to the New Jersey Federation of Women’s Clubs, which saved it from probable demolition.  The anachronisms are everywhere, from a bed — a thin mattress laid across criss-crossed ropes — to the ceiling’s wooden beams, which are no more than 6 feet high from the floorboard.  "I think the average height of people was a little shorter," said Ridgewood resident Jim Skevin, who stands 6-feet-6 as he bent his head for safety.  The historic items provided plenty of educational opportunities. Carson, spotting a black-and-white picture of sunbathers on the Hudson’s shores, told Cole that her grandmother used to swim in the river before it became polluted.

"Can you imagine going swimming in the Hudson?" she said.  And Skevin told his mother, Oradell resident Florence Horgan, that the ropes supporting the mattress gave rise to the saying, "Sleep tight," because every evening, one would have to tighten the ropes for comfort before retiring to bed.  "This building is amazing," said Demarest resident Laurie Kaplan.  "It makes you feel like you’re in Colonial Williamsburg. It’s really amazing that this building still stands here today."