Tag: History

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Nukes in Northwood?

Here is another recollection from Peter J. Dawson about growing up in Frankford:

As  Americans  fret  endlessly  about  whether  spent  nuclear  fuel  and  other  radioactive  waste  can  be  moved  from  nuclear  power  plants  through  their  towns,    they  never  stop  to  consider  how  the  radioactive  materials,  including  nuclear  weapons,  get  to  their  sites.

In  1960,  when  I  was  7  years  of  age,  our  family  lived  on  Wakeling  Street  in  the  Northwood  section  of  Frankford,  near  Rutland  Street.  I  was  just  then  becoming  dimly  aware  of  the  Cold  War,  of  the  “us  versus  them”  ideology  pervading  the  thinking  of  the  era,  and  of  the  existence  of  nuclear  weapons  atop  missiles  aimed  at  each  side  by  the  other.

One  night  in  the  Summer  of  1960,  sometime  after  midnight,  I  was  sound  asleep  in  our  bedroom,  when  a  loud  rumbling  outside  the  windows  awakened  me.  Our  family  had  no  air  conditioning  in  those  days.  So,  as  I  sleepily  climbed  out  of  bed,  I  thought,  “Wow!    What  a  hot  night!    I  can’t  close  the  windows.  It’s  going  to  be  hard  getting  back  to  sleep  with  that  noise  outside.  What  is  making  that  noise?”

I  looked  out  the  window  facing  the  back  yard  and  Allengrove  Street,    saw  nothing,  and  walked  into  the  bedroom  where  my  parents  were  sound  asleep.

Looking  out  the  window  toward  the  intersection  of  Wakeling  and  Rutland,    I  saw  an  astonishing  site:    There,  illuminated  by  the  street  light  on  the  corner,  was  a  huge  flatbed  truck,  motor  rumbling  in  idle,    bearing  a  giant  white  rocket.    The  nose  cone  of  the  rocket  on  the  flatbed  was  pointed  forwards,  toward  the  front  of  the  truck.  The  rear  two  thirds  of  the  rocket  was  covered  with  a  light-colored  tarp.  From  the  shape  of  the  tarp  it  was  clear  that  the  rocket  had  wings  and  a  tail.    I  could  actually  see  the  front  one-third  of  the  rocket,  from  just  in  front  of  the  wings  to  the  nose  cone  which  I  found  out  years  later  normally  bore  a  10  kiloton  nuclear  weapon.

As  I  stood  there  looking  out  the  window,  transfixed  by  the  sight,  I  saw  what  were  probably  Air  Force  ordnance  supply  personnel  standing  outside  the  truck,  looking  at  a  map  with  a  flashlight,  arguing.    I  thought,  in  my  7-year-old-kid  way,  “THE  GOVERNMENT  SECRETLY  MOVES  ROCKETS  AROUND  THE  STREETS  AT  NIGHT!”

I  told  my  family  about  it  the  next  day.    I  think  that  they  thought  that  I  had  been  dreaming.

The  memory  of  the  huge  missile  on  the  flatbed  truck  at  Wakeling  and  Rutland  Streets  stayed  with  me.    41  years  later,  in  November  or  December,  2001,    I  was  an  attorney  in  Camden  County,  New  Jersey,  court  room.  A  man  unrelated  to  the  case  being  tried  in  the  courtroom  sat  in  the  back,  staring  at  me.  When  court  was  finished,    and  I  packed-up  my  brief  case  and  put  on  my  hat  and  began  to  walk  out,    the  man  jumped  out  of  his  seat  and  walked  over  to  me.  “You  look  like  a  pretty  good  attorney.  Will  you  sit  down  with  me  while  I  tell  you  an  amazing  story?”

And,  to  my  most  intense  astonishment,  he  began  to  tell  me  the  complex  story  behind  “the  lost  nuclear  missile  of  Frankford,”  41  years  before.

As  the  Cold  War  intensified  in  the  1950s, the  federal  government,  afraid  of  nuclear-bomb-toting    long  range  Soviet  bombers,    began  to  protect  large  cities  on  the  East  Coast  with  BOMARC  Missile  sites.  Philadelphia  was  protected  by  a  BOMARC  Missile  base  on  land  in  Fort  Dix,  New  Jersey,  leased  to  the  Air  Force  on  Plumsted  Township,  on  Route  539  just  north  of  Route  70,  on  the  northern  bank  of  a  creek  in  the  top  of  the  Toms  River  watershed  called  Elisha  Branch.

The  BOMARC  Missile  was  an  anti-aircraft  missile,  a  little  under  50  feet  in  length,  designed  to  carry  a  10  kiloton  nuclear  device  to  an  altitude  of  60,000  feet  and  incinerate  dozens  of  enemy  bombers  at  once  with  one  big  blast.

The  BOMARC  Missile’s  engines  were  very  advanced  for  the  time  —  functionally,    the  same  technology    powering  the  almost  mythological  Aurora  spy  plane  of  our  day.    A  conventional  rocket  motor  lifted  the  BOMARC  off  the  ground  and  accelerated  the  rocket  to  a  very  high  speed.    When  the  vehicle  was  going  fast  enough  to  deliver  sufficient  oxygen  to  them,  two  ramjet  jet  engines  took  over  and  propelled  the  BOMARC  Missile  to  its  target  at  well  over  2,000  mph.

Inside  each  BOMARC  engine  was  a  tank  of  highly  compressed  helium  gas,  for  driving  liquid  propellant  into  the  engines.

On  June  7,  1960,  at  about  3:15  p.m.,  inside  Missile  Shelter  #204  in  the  Fort  Dix  BOMARC  complex,  a  hidden  weakness  in  the  wall  of  the  helium  tank  in  the  BOMARC  Missile  there  gave  way  to  the  enormous  pressures  within  —  probably  about  3,000  pounds  per  square  inch.    The  explosion  in  the  rear  of  the  rocket  started  a  fire,  which  spread  to  the  nuclear  weapon  in  the  nose  cone.

Nuclear  weapons  aren’t  like  gunpowder.  You  don’t  set  them  off  with  a  string-like  fuse  you  light  with  a  match.    They  don’t  generate  a  nuclear  explosion  in  the  presence  of  fire.      Achieving  a  nuclear  blast  is  a  very  hard  thing  to  do.  But,  nuclear  weapons  in  those  days  were  jammed  with  extraordinarily  volatile  components  —  very  flammable  high  explosives  for  ramming  fissionables  together,    and,  frequently,  very  flammable  hydrogen  isotopes  to  enhance  the  bang  when  the  nuclear  weapon  goes  off,  encased  in  a  very  flammable  Styrofoam  carriage  next  to  the  bomb  core.

So,  the  Fort  Dix  BOMARC  fire  was  a  mess.    The  explosion  and  fire  blew  the  roof  off  the  shelter.  While  dozens  of  volunteer  firefighters  from  surrounding  towns  struggled  to  douse  the  extremely  hot  rocket  engine  and  nose  cone  fire,  liquefied  radioactive  materials  dripped  to  the  ground,  while  heat  and  explosions  shot  other  materials  hither  and  yon  around  the  site.  Water  sprayed  by  firemen  onto  the  fire  spread  radioactive  materials  even  farther.    Volunteer  firefighters  became  anxious  when  federal  hazmat  crews  showed  up  in  green  suits  with  oxygen  packs.  They  thought,    “Is  it  safe  to  breath  the  air  near  this  fire?”

Some  time  after  the  fire,    a  replacement  BOMARC  Missile  was  shipped-in  from  another  location.  That’s  probably  what  I  saw  that  night  from  the  upstairs  bedroom    of  our  house  —  an  Air  Force  ordnance  crew  hauling  the  brand  new  BOMARC  Missile,  looking  for  the  best  route  to  one  of  the  bridges  crossing-over  to  New  Jersey.  Unfamiliar  with  the area,    and  desperate  to  get  to  one  of  the  Delaware  bridges  before  sunrise,    drove  off  the  north-bound  lanes  of  Roosevelt  Boulevard,  probably  at  Foulkrod  Street,  and  became  worried  as  Foulkrod  narrowed  at  Rutland.  Desperate  for  a  way  out  of  all  of  those  neighborhoods,    they  drove  noisily  up  Rutland  Street  to  Wakeling  Street  and  stopped  to  argue  over  where  they  were  on  the  map,  while  a  little  boy,  awakened  by  the  noise,  secretly  looked  down  on  them  from  the  bedroom  above.

The  man  who  approached  me  in  court  that  day  in  2001,  41  years  later,    told  me  that  in  the  ensuing  months,  many  of  the  firefighters  died,  probably  from  radiation  poisoning,  and  the  government  quietly  paid  damages  to  their  families.

He  said  that  the  government  decided  to  seal  the  plutonium  which  had  melted  and  dripped  from  the  warhead  into  the  ground  by  covering  the  area  with  a  large  concrete  pad  —  not  a  bad  idea,  really,  since  plutonium,  though  not  normally  water  soluble,  could  have  been  driven  from  the  site  by  rain  water  run-off,  and  the  pad  would  keep  flowing  water  from  washing  the  plutonium  deeper  into  the  ground.    Also,    plants  love  heavy  metals.    The  pad  would  keep  plant  roots  from  taking  plutonium  into  the  above-ground  portions  of  the  plants,  making  it  available  for  birds  and  other  animals  to  eat,  spreading  it  further,  and  perhaps[s  causing  plutonium  to  enter  the  food  chain..

But,  along  came  acid  rain,  generated  by  industrial  smokestacks  to  the  west  and  north,  and  carried  eastward  by  prevailing  winds.  Acid  rain  causes  plutonium  to  form  the  only  known  water-soluble  plutonium  salt.    As  more  and  more  acid  rain  fell  on  the  Pine  Barrens  around  Fort  Dix,    the  plutonium  began  to  dissolve  into  the  groundwater  —  and  flow  into  a  local  creek  called  Elisha  Branch  at  the  top  of  the  Toms  River  watershed,  and  then  into  the  estuary  called  Toms  River,  next  to  the  town  of  the  same  name.

In  the  1990s,  health  authorities  noticed  an  odd  increase  in  the  incidence  of  cancer  among  children  in  the  Toms  River  area,  called  the  Toms  River  Cluster.

Among  other  things,  scientists  working  for  the  government  wondered  if  the  BOMARC  site  was  leaching  plutonium  into  the  water,  and  discovered  that  acid  rain  was  enabling  exactly  that.

My  client,  who  was  connected  with  the  effort  to  investigate  the  acid  rain  problem,    told  me  that  the  Toms  River  Cluster  families  were  involved  in  a  giant  lawsuit  against  Ciba-Geigy,  Union  Carbide  and  Toms  River  Water  Company,  that  in  his  opinion  they  were  suing  the  wrong  party,  and  that  the  government  should  be  a  Defendant  in  that  lawsuit.  He  asked  me to  tell  Cluster victim  lawyers  about  the  BOMARC  plutonium.

I  responded  that  though  plutonium  was  very  dangerous,  and  it  had  an  extremely  long  half-life  —  in  down-to-earth  terms,  it  sits  around  being  radioactive  for  about  24,000  years  —  just  finding  that  it  was  dissolving  in  acid  rain  in  Plumsted  Township  was  probably  not  a  strong  enough  of  a  connection  to  the  cancer  cluster  a  few  miles  away  to  generate  government  liability.  But,  I  promised  to  call  the  lawyers.

I  did.    They  responded  that  they  were  about  to  settle  the  case  with  Ciba-Geigy,  Union  Carbide  and  Toms  River  Water Company,  and  so  they  didn’t  want  to  hear  about  the  government  as  another  Defendant  in  the  case.  It  would  just  give  the  other  Defendants  someone  else  to  blame.

So,  nothing  came  of  it.  But  suddenly,  after  41  years,  I  knew  why  I  saw  a  10  kiloton  nuclear  missile  on  a  flatbed  lost  in  Frankford  that  night.

Citations:

http://www.strangeusa.com/Viewlocation.aspx?id=11933

http://capitalcentury.com/1960.html

http://rarediseases.about.com/cs/leukemiasrare/a/031602.htm

PETER  J.  DAWSON

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This Day in Frankford History

This is from our contributor Joe Menkevich.

August 31, 1774

Here in Frankford, the Revolution began long ago with the arrival of the Founding Fathers. The Founding Fathers stopped in Frankford before the first meeting of Continental Congress in Philadelphia took place.

The History:

There were many secret meetings held here in Frankford during the formative stages of the Declaration of Independence. A Pickering family had a seat here, and is is said (as oral history) that Jefferson was distantly related to Dr. Enoch Edwards who bought the old Summer Home from the Drinker family. Womrath park is the only thing left of that estate.

Frankfort Advice

In later years John Adams would recall the warning advice given to the Massachusetts delegation the day of their arrival for the First Congress.  Benjamin Rush, Thomas Mifflin, and two or three other Philadelphia patriots had ridden out to welcome the Massachusetts men, and at a tavern in the village of Frankford, in the seclusion of a private room, they told the New Englanders they were “suspected of having independence in view.” They were perceived to be “too zealous” and must not presume to take the lead. Virginia, they were reminded, was the largest, richest, and most populous of the colonies, and the “very proud” Virginians felt they had the right to lead.
According to Adams, the advice made a deep impression, and among the consequences was the choice of George Washington to head the army. But Adams also wrote that he had “not in my nature prudence and caution enough” always to stand back. Years before, at age twenty, he had set down in his diary that men ought to “avow their opinions and defend them with boldness.”

Excerpts from: Thomas Jefferson, July 27, 1821, Autobiography Draft Fragment, January 6 through July 27 – Library of Congress

In Congress, Friday June 7, 1776. The delegates from Virginia moved in obedience to instructions from their constituents that the Congress should declare that these United colonies are & of right ought to be free & independent states, that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British crown, and that all political connection between them & the state of Great Britain is & ought to be, totally dissolved; that measures should be immediately taken for procuring the assistance of foreign powers, and a Confederation be formed to bind the colonies more closely together….(note immediately below in quotes)
“The Congress sat till 7 o’clock this evening in consequence of a motion of R. H. Lee’s rendering ourselves free and independent States. The sensible part of the House opposed the Motion–they had no objection to forming a Scheme of a Treaty which they would send to France by proper Persons & uniting this Continent by a Confederacy; they saw no wisdom in a Declaration of Independence, nor any other Purpose to be enforced by it, but placing ourselves in the power of those with whom we mean to treat, giving our Enemy Notice of our Intentions before we had taken any steps to execute them…..” — E. Rutledge to John Jay, June 8, 1776.]

A different account is given of this by John Adams, as follows

John Adams to Timothy Pickering.
August 6, 1822
You inquire why so young a man as Mr. Jefferson was placed at the head of the committee for preparing a Declaration of Independence? I answer: It was the Frankfort advice to place Virginia at the head of everything. Mr. Richard Henry Lee might be gone to Virginia, to his sick family, for aught I know, but that was not the reason for Mr. Jefferson’s appointment. There were three committees appointed at the same time, one for the Declaration of Independence, another for preparing articles of confederation, and another for preparing a treaty to be proposed to France. Mr. Lee was chosen for the Committee of Confederation, and it was not thought convenient that the same person should be upon both. Mr. Jefferson came into Congress in June, 1775, and brought with him a reputation for literature, science, and a happy talent of composition. Writings of his were handed about, remarkable for the peculiar felicity of expression. Though a silent member in Congress, he was so prompt, frank, explicit and decisive upon committees and in conversation-not even Samuel Adams was more so-that he soon seized upon my heart; and upon this occasion I gave him my vote, and did all in my power to procure the votes of others. I think he had one more vote than any other, and that placed him at the head of the committee. I had the next highest number, and that placed me the second. The committee met, discussed the subject, and then appointed Mr. Jefferson and me to make the draught, I suppose because we were the two first on the list.
The sub-committee met. Jefferson proposed to me to make the draught. I said, “I will not.”
“You should do it.”
“Oh! no.”
“Why will you not? You ought to do it.”
“I will not.”
“Why?”
“Reason enough.”
“What can be your reasons?”
“Reason first – You are a Virginian, and a Virginian ought to appear at the head of this business. Reason second – I am obnoxious, suspected and unpopular. You are very much otherwise. Reason third – You can write ten times better than I can.”
“Well,” said Jefferson, “if you are decided, I will do as well as I can.”
“Very well. When you have drawn it up, we will have a meeting.”
A meeting we accordingly had, and conned the paper over. I was delighted with its high tone and the flights of oratory with which it abounded, especially that concerning Negro slavery, which, though I knew his Southern brethren would never suffer to pass in Congress, I certainly never would oppose. There were other expressions which I would not have inserted, if I had drawn it up, particularly that which called the King tyrant. I thought this too personal; for I never believed George to be a tyrant in disposition and in nature; I always believed him to be deceived by his courtiers on both sides of the Atlantic, and, in his official capacity only, cruel. 1 thought the expression too passionate, and too much like scolding, for so grave and solemn a document; but as Franklin and Sherman were to inspect it afterwards, I thought it would not become me to strike it out. I consented to report it, and do not now remember that I made or suggested a single
alteration.
We reported it to the committee of five. It was read, and I do not remember that Franklin or Sherman criticized any thing. We were all in haste. Congress was impatient, and the instrument was reported, as I believe, in Jefferson’s handwriting, as he first drew it. Congress cut off about a quarter of it, as I expected they would; but they obliterated some of the best of it, and left all that was exceptionable, if any thing in it was. 1 have long wondered that the original draught has not been published. I suppose the reason is the vehement philippic against Negro slavery.
As you justly observe, there is not an idea in it but what had been hackneyed in Congress for two years before. The substance of it is contained in the declaration of rights and the violation of those rights in the Journals of Congress, in 1774. Indeed, the essence of it is contained in a pamphlet, voted and printed by the town of Boston, before the first Congress met, composed by James Otis, as I suppose, in one of his lucid intervals, and pruned and polished by Samuel Adams. …”
J.M.
(Disclaimer, almost all of the above text is borrowed and only rearranged. Many other authors have written on the subject. This is just a reminder of this day in Frakford’s History.)
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Growing Up in Frankford part 1

I got an email from Lyle (Corky) Larkin offering his remembrances of growing up in Frankford.  This is the first installment:

Many very fond memories come to mind when I stop and think back to my earlier days in Philadelphia.  “Philly” as it is fondly referred to by most of its natives.  It all started in 1940 at 1626 Wakeling St.  Can you imagine a city where doors were not locked, it was safe, drugless and clean. Scrubbing the front steps was not a myth, it was weekly occurrence.  Littering was not acceptable in the neighborhoods.

Schools didn’t have grates over the windows – or if they did, they weren’t to keep people out, but to keep them from being broken by kids playing in the schoolyards – accidentally, not deliberately.  Neighborhoods took responsibility for all the kids

Most of the houses are “row homes” meaning homes that share common walls.  Some of these homes were semi-detached and had an alley between each two houses.  Many blocks had an alley behind the houses; it was a narrow alley with cement curbs that had a steel rail or caps on each side.  People would put their trashcans out back and the trash man would come by on a given day and collect it.

I remember such things as “The El”.  An elevated train that can whisk you from the Northeast end of Philly to Upper Darby in less than an hour.  I used this mode of transportation at the early age of nine.  On Saturdays, I would go “Downtown” and visit such places as The Franklin Institute, The Philadelphia Art Museum, The Aquarium, Betsy Ross’s House, The “Liberty Bell, Fairmount Park, the famous “Boat House Row” where they held Scull Races on the Schuylkill river each Saturday and Sunday during the warm weather. The Fox Theater at 16th and Market St. The Reading Terminal which was probably one of the first “indoor Markets” for it was always filled with a variety of vendors selling everything from fresh buttermilk to made on the spot sandwiches. In all my travels I have never found a better “Chinatown then the one which was located at 9th & Race St.

The Horn & Hardart “Auto-mat” Restaurant was on Frankford Avenue, between Margaret and Overington St. Philadelphia was the point of origin for Horn & Hardart, in 1902 and disappointed many folks when it finally closed in 1962. I often stopped there with my grandmother on her way home from Nevin’s Drugstore where she worked, to pick up some of their “Macaroni and Cheese” or Creamed Spinach” to bring home to add to our dinner. The Auto-mat is not the usual restaurant. You are not  served by a waiter, or even standing in a cafeteria line. When you entered the store, you would be faced with sparkling clean rows of glass enclosures full of sandwiches, fruits, pies, drinks and entrees.  All these are behind doors and when you put the right amount of nickels in the slot for that window, Just turn the knob and the door unlocks and allows you to remove your selection.  Once a week my grandmother would give me enough money to eat lunch there.  That was a special treat.   A typical Friday dinner: included Meatloaf 5 cents Baked Beans 5 cents, Creamed Spinach 5 cents, Mashed Potatoes with Gravy 5 cents, Hard Club Roll with Butter 5 cents, Skimmed Milk 5 cents (their dispensers could handle the then nu-homogenized product) and Coconut Cream Pie 10 cents.  Total; 35 cents.  Not bad for a complete dinner

Another place that stands out in my mind was the “White Tower” at Frankford Avenue and Margaret St. Open twenty four hours a day, you couldn’t help but catch the aroma of sauteed onions as you passed by this black and white tiled little gem.

News and shoe shine  stands were usually located at the bottom of the steps of the “El” stations.   Barrett’s Chemical Plant, is a place most people from Frankford would remember, it was famous for  it’s regular explosions.  The Frankford Arsenal was another landmark, during the war the arsenal would be busy making various mortar shells etc.

Whitehall was the local playground and indoor swimming pool.  Located at Wakeling St. and Torresdale Ave. directly across from Harding Junior High, where I attended 7th through 9th grades.

You were only allowed to swim in one hour shifts because so many people went there.  After the hour was up, they completely emptied the pool area and let in the next shift.

To be continued.

Who is Corky Larkin?  In his own words:

I started out in Smedley School and Mr Julianna was the Principle in 1947 went to Harding after that, then decided to go to what is now “Walter B. Saul High School of Agricultural Sciences ” and two weeks a month to Gratz for academic classes.   I started my own business when I was ten years old by having my friends father take me to Atco NJ to the egg farms and buy them wholesale then I started an egg route in my neighborhood.  I made pretty good money back in those days.  I finally left Frankford in 1968 when I bought a home in Palmyra NJ and started my family, but I traveled into Philly every day for work.   My first job was at “Allied Hobby Shop” located on Frankford Ave. Near Foulkrod street in 1955 working for $75 cents an hour.

The company I worked for (B. Paul Model Dist.) I was sales manager, on Allegheny Ave. went out of business in 1976 and I saw a chance to get away from the harsh Philadelphia winters so I moved to Tucson, AZ for a couple of years then to Texas City, TX for ten years then to San Marcos, CA where I started my own Courier Business which I still own and operate,  ace Book.  The family that is left back East lives in Marlton, NJ and Virginia Beach, VA

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Sharks, Sharks, Sharks in Frankford Creek

A few weeks ago I mentioned that we are looking for contributors of all kinds.  Since then, I have received several submissions and all of them are interesting.  The following story was submitted by Peter Dawson who grew up in Northwood and has a wealth of stories to tell.  We’ll feature more of his in the weeks to  come.

About  50  years,  probably  around  1962,  when  we  were  little  kids  in  the  Northwood  section  of  Frankford,    our  friend  Nicky  Macko  went  to  the  Jersey  shore  on  a  fishing  trip  with  his  dad.  When  he  returned  a  week-or-so  later,  he  invited  us  over  to  his  house,  and,  lo  and  behold,  in  his  bathtub  upstairs  he  had  a  large  live  sand  shark.  “My  dad  says  that  we  shouldn’t  be  taking  baths  with  a  shark.  So,  he  ordered  me  to  ‘do  something  with  it,  today.'”

We  resolved  to  get  a  galvanized  steel  cleaning  tub.  We  loaded  the  tub  onto  our  Radio  Flyer  wagon,  and  used  the  garden  hose  to  fill  it  with  about  30  gallons  of  cold  water.    We  picked  up  the  live  shark  from  the  bathtub  and  wrapped  it  with  a  small  blanket,  and  we  carried  the  struggling,  angry  animal  in  the  blanket  downstairs  and  out  the  back  door,  and  then  dumped  it  into  the  tub.    Then  we  carefully  pulled  our  “emergency  shark  aquarium”  in  the  wagon  down  Castor  Avenue  to  Adams,  up  Adams  to  Ramona,  and  down  Ramona  to  Fishers  Lane,  to  the  old  stone  bridge  over  Frankford  Creek.

Even  back  in  those  days,  in  the  early  1960s,  Frankford  Creek  was  environmentally  challenged.    We  worried  about  how  our  friend  the  shark  would  fair  in  the  foamy  depths  of  the  creek.    We  picked  it  up  on  the  blanket,  and  carried  it  down  the  slope,  as  in  a  stretcher,  and  plopped  the  shark  into  the  water.

Fishers Lane Bridge photo courtesy of Fred Moore

The  shocked  shark  swam  in  one  place  for  a  moment  —  and  then  it  shot  through  the  water  in  the  direction  of  Friend’s  Hospital.

I  remember  thinking  to  myself,    “I  wonder  what  the  staff  at  Friend’s  Hospital  will  think  if  a  psychiatric  patient  strolling  along  the  creek  comes  running  back  to  his  ward,  in  a  panic,    reporting  that  he  has  just  seen  a  shark!”

Peter  J.  Dawson

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Castor Family Reunion

The name Castor means more than a quick way around Oxford Circle.

An international reunion of well over 230 members of the Castor family of Philadelphia was held last weekend (Aug. 12-14th), at the Radisson Hotel, NE in Bensalem. The event commemorated the 275th year that their ancestor, Hans George Gerster(Castor), came to America in 1736 from Basel, Switzerland.   The 12 generations of the Castor Family plus six Swiss guests, gathered throughout the weekend to discuss many topics including the difficult voyage of Hans by ship to America and life as an Emigrant in the early 1730’s.  This included experiences living in the early days of Philadelphia with the Indians.

Congressman Fitzpatrick and Bob Castor

Michael Fitzpatrick, U. S. Congressman PA of the 8th district, spoke at the Saturday night banquet and presented organizer, Bob Castor, with a flag that flew over the White House in honor of the Castor reunion.  Workshops were featured Saturday and family members learned more about some of the numerous contributions their ancestors made to the history of Philadelphia as they traced their colonial roots.

Hans and his wife had lived in the Philadelphia area and Hans earned a living as a linen weaver.  In 1762 they purchased a 202 acre plantation in what was called Oxford Township (Oxford Circle).  A road leading to their farm was called Castor Avenue.  Hans and his sons George, Frederick and Jacob were founding members of the Presbyterian Church of Frankford, which was formerly the German Reformed Church.

Castors at the Presbyterian Church

Another descendant  was George Castor, who moved to Pennypack Farms.  Horace Castor(1870-1966) an Architect, was responsible for the building of over 1,000 buildings in Philadelphia and other areas including Einstein Hospital, Methodist Episcopal Hospital, Scottish (Shriner’s) Town Hall and over 30 churches and  numerous schools and industrial plants.

Dean Castor, Evelyn Castor and Diana Castor

Thomas Castor and his brother patented and manufactured carriages and the first horse drawn cars to run on steel rails in 1860.  These cars were so beautifully painted and decorated that he also built cars for Barnum and Bailey Circus wagons. Thomas improved early transportation such as the spiral staircase for double decker cars.  He improved lighting and ventilation on the cars and invented new features such as the dump wagon.

George A. Castor was a U.S. Congressman from Philadelphia and died in office in February, 1906.  He built “Stonyhurst” Mansion on the grounds of what is now Father Judge High School.  The mansion in now owned by the Nuns of the Missionary Servants of the most Blessed Trinity.

General Samuel Castor was Commander of the troops escorting Marquis De Lafayette through Philadelphia in his farewell tour to Washington in 1824

A third book of the Castor family “A Castor Family in America, Volume lll” has been updated by Robert (Bob) Castor and contains present information of family charts, pictures and stories.  The reunion concluded on Sunday with a service at the Frankford Presbyterian Church located on Frankford Ave. and Church St. and a visit to the Historical Society of Frankford.  The group then traveled to Stonyhurst Mansion for a tour of the grounds and the first floor.