The Greenwood Pond Ice House

Harvesting, storing, and selling ice was a major industry from before the 1800s until the late 1940s, when refrigerators became common in the home. Every lake and pond that could produce a decent quantity of ice was harvested all winter. In our region, that included the rural areas of Lake Hopatcong, Greenwood Lake, Charlotteburg Lake, Echo Lake (also known as Macopin Lake, Lake Macopin, and Macopin Pond), and the topic of this post, Greenwood Pond in the Oak Ridge section of West Milford.

Ice was a major source of employment. Companies would hire as many men (and teenaged boys) as they would need, as well as farmers and their horse teams who were idle during the winter. In warm weather, route men were needed to supply homes and businesses with the ice harvested in the winter. Ice was always needed by homes, hotels, and other businesses in the cities and vacation areas.

Winters were colder two centuries ago; ice would form by November, growing to over a foot thick, and still be available for harvest as late as mid-March.

Ad for Silk City Ice Company
Greenwood’s Silk City Ice Company boasted that its Oak Ridge ice was “pure”

Around 1897, Edward R. Greenwood founded what would become a prosperous coal business in Paterson. Two years later, he started a new venture, the Silk City Ice Company, alongside his E.R. Greenwood Coal & Ice Company. Initially, he imported ice from the Poconos. Wanting a more local source, around 1907 he purchased Greenwood Pond and surrounding lands, and constructed a dam to enlarge the pond. The pond and the dam still exist on Bonter Road (which was then called Icehouse Road), not far from Oak Ridge Road.

Greenwood built a large ice house ideally located between the shore of the 4.5-acre pond and the NY Susquehanna & Western (NYS&W) railroad line. A siding brought railroad cars alongside the ice house to be packed with ice cakes bound for Paterson.

A typical ice house would be quite large and several stories tall. Greenwood’s was perhaps 50 by 150 feet, between 40 and 50 feet tall. Echo Lake had one, as did Lake Hopatcong, while Greenwood Lake boasted two, both owned by the Hewitt family.

They were all built the same way: the outside walls were built of wide boards, and another such wall was constructed on the inside. An ice house would be divided into several rooms, with the dividing walls built the same way. The gap between them was filled with sawdust for insulation, while salt hay was used in the individual rooms.

View of gasoline-powered ice saw in front of the Greenwood ice house.
View of gasoline-powered ice saw in front of the Greenwood ice house.

Ice harvesting was grueling work. Teams of men would work 10- to 12-hour days; they were well-paid and, at some ice houses, also well-fed. At Greenwood, an early-morning steam whistle signaled that the ice was ready for harvest. Between 30 and 40 day workers would congregate at the pond as a crew would plow any snow off the ice. One team would carefully score a checkerboard pattern in the ice; this was necessary to ensure uniform ice blocks. Other teams would begin the cutting process. Originally the ice was manually sawed into long blocks using specially-designed saws. By the 1920s, gasoline-powered ice saws replaced that manual labor. (A gas-powered ice saw is on display at the Long Pond Iron Works in Hewitt, NJ.) The men would break for coffee as well as a hearty lunch.

The ice blocks were floated to a long conveyor belt where they were cut into cakes; a steam-engine-powered conveyor lifted them into the ice house where they would be stacked among the rooms. It might take several days to fill the Greenwood icehouse, while the two much larger icehouses at Greenwood Lake might require weeks.

Side view of the Greenwood icehouse. Note the steam-driven conveyor belt. Bonter Road (then called Icehouse Road)
is to the right.

All ice houses needed a delivery system for their product. Before the advent of railroads, much was packed into canal boats and sent down the Morris Canal. By the 1830s, railroads were much faster and could handle much more product. The same railroads that delivered vacationers to idyllic spots such as Brown’s Inn in Newfoundland could return to Paterson with a profitable payload. Greenwood Pond had a siding constructed to the railroad line just yards away, while Echo Lake had a dedicated, 1.5-mile railroad line (the Macopin Lake Railroad) connected to the NYS&W.

Railroad cars would arrive at Greenwood’s icehouse on a siding off the roadway.

Once packed with ice blocks, the railroad would take the ice to various destinations for delivery. Greenwood didn’t market his ice in Oak Ridge, but local people, and some shop keepers, would come to the ice house to purchase bags of ice chips that resulted from shaping the ice cakes.

A 1906 ad for Silk City Ice. Before purchasing Greenwood Pond, he obtained his ice from “Mount Poconoke” in neighboring Pennsylvania.

Silk City Ice sold ice in quantity to big hotels and such, but also maintained eight local routes in Paterson and Totowa. Each of the eight route men had his own horse-drawn ice wagon from which to sell ice to housekeepers and small stores.

Newspaper accounts paint a portrait of a fair and generous boss:

E.R. Greenwood, coal and ice dealer of this city, gave a theatre party and banquet to his employees and their wives as a means of expressing his appreciation of the good work done by the men in harvesting the ice crop, during which time they labored day and night.

After watching a play at the Lyceum theatre, the party partook of a well prepared supper in a local restaurant. The ladies were presented with large boxes of chocolates, while the men received cigars.

Paterson Morning Call, 01 Feb 1917

A Silk City Ice delivery wagon of the era.

In late 1920, Greenwood turned over the retail route business of Silk City Ice to eight of his long-time faithful employees. According to a 1920 newspaper article, he realized that the present cost of living was a constant worry to the man working for wages. In turning over the business to the route men, he set each up as an independent business man whose earnings would depend entirely upon the efforts he put into the business. Each man also was gifted the wagon each had been using, and had their names painted on the sides. The ice would continue to be harvested in Oak Ridge.

Click the article for a full-sized version.

By the 1930s, however, the writing was on the wall for the ice harvesters. The invention of the refrigerator, and the introduction of “artificial ice” made in commercial freezers at ice plants, would soon doom the ice-harvesting industry. “Mechanical iceboxes”, which used a liquid refrigerant to produce cold, had been invented in 1915 as an add-on to the traditional icebox. By the mid-1920s, the modern refrigerator was available for purchase, but only the wealthy could afford them; it would take decades before they became affordable to many families.

This 1931 ad touts a household refrigerator for $190. That translates to about $3,400 in today’s dollars!

Apparently, harvesting came to a close in the late 1930s, and the ice house was abandoned. Eventually, it collapsed; the wooden structure has long since returned to the earth. The railroad siding is long gone. The concrete foundation and footings, and some iron hardware, however, still survive, bearing mute testimony to a bygone industry.

There is little left of the Greenwood ice house today.

Photo Credits: Dale Greenwood Dunn

Various details: Recollections of a New Jersey Ice Harvest by David W. Dunn, Jr. (2014) and my own research.

More about the ‘Ghost Bridge’ of Oak Ridge Reservoir

(This is a continuation of the original post that you can find here.)

I found this line drawing in an 1891 journal titled Engineering Record, in an article titled CONSTRUCTION OF THE EAST JERSEY WATER COMPANY’S AQUEDUCT AND RESERVOIRS. It’s a lengthy piece about the massive undertaking of building five reservoirs in north Jersey for the benefit of Newark. (Another of my interests. You may yawn, if you like.)

So this line drawing is described thus: “Figure 3 is a view of the three-arch bridge carrying the new highway across an arm of the Oak Ridge reservoir. At full stages of the water these arches will be completely submerged.”  

Which, of course, they are, as per this blog post. If you’re lucky to be there during a drought, you too can see it… even walk on it, if you dare.

Ghost Bridge illustration (1891)
Ghost Bridge illustration (1891)

The “new highway” wasn’t all that new; it was the Paterson-Hamburg Turnpike. At the time the Oak Ridge reservoir was under construction, the roadway ran along the shore of the river. But clearly, the roadway would have to be moved to higher ground, which it was, reportedly around 1927.

Looking north on the east shore of the Oak Ridge Reservoir, late 1890s. On the right is the railroad. (Click image for full-sized view.)

In this photo we see the original route of the Paterson-Hamburg Turnpike (Route 8) which followed the eastern shore of the reservoir. The ridge supporting the railroad is visible on the right, well above the roadway.

And if you examine the photo closely (or click on it to open it up full size), at lower left is the old bridge that led to the village of Oak Ridge.

Where the original roadway was not far above the water line, today’s highway is elevated several yards higher — almost level with those railroad tracks — to prevent any flooding issues. The highway was also straightened, such that it proceeds nearly north (to the left) of the roadway here, and very close to the bridge. Today, if you park on Route 23 South near the bridge, you look down on it, over a very steep incline, and from a much closer vantage than shown here.

The ‘Ghost Bridge’ of Oak Ridge Reservoir

The Oak Ridge Reservoir was constructed in the 1890s to help supply Newark’s burgeoning populace with a supply of fresh water.  It was one of several reservoirs in north NJ built at about the same time. (The others are Canistear, Charlotteburg, Clinton, and Echo Lake.)

A really good photo by Ron DuPont (c 2014)
Ghost Bridge of Oak Ridge Reservoir (2014)
Click for full-sized article

The village of Oak Ridge was, unfortunately, right where the reservoir would go — so the village of Oak Ridge, and a smaller one known as Wallace Corner, had to go. Today, their locations are underwater. (If anyone knows of a map of the original villages, please let me know.)

But, as the article notes, an old stone bridge that once connected Oak Ridge to the main road — known then as the Paterson-Hamburg Turnpike — was spared, because it was useful in the construction of the dam. So, when they were finished, they just let it be; there was no point in wasting manpower to tear down a bridge that would soon be submerged forevermore.

But every so often, when a drought hits the area, the water level  will drop enough for passers-by to see the bridge.

According to the article,

“You can locate this bridge (or at least, the spot of water it’s under) by travelling on Route 23 about a mile south of its intersection with Canistear Road. At this spot, southwest and right next to the highway, a narrow tongue of Oak Ridge Reservoir snakes its way up along the base of the mountain. This follows the original route of the Pequannock River.”

 I’ve been there, and seen, the “ghost bridge” a couple of times. If you think you can find it, refer to the aerial photo.

Aerial view of Oak Ridge Reservoir showing the bridge.

Local historian Beth Willis has been there as well, and has more interesting details to share on her Facebook page.

I’ve recently uncovered even more cool stuff about the ghost bridge — see here.