Thank you...do you know how frequently your site is accessed each day? I am not a big fan of the Internet, but I am pleasantly stunned to see such treasure on this site. I had no idea the Web could offer such reward.
I lived on Fairmount Ave in a lovely Victorian-styled home until I turned four years old. My family then moved to a "mansion" on the "hill' where I lived on Prospect Ave until a few months after my 14th birthday. Although I moved away before my college years, Hackensack has continued to fascinate me. This website has renewed and intensified my interest. Moreover, I actually have much to share about the families on Fairmont, Prospect and Summit Avenues from the end of 1940's until 1960.
My immediate question is does anyone know what has become of Dorothy Borg Packard (who meant much to my family) and her family (son Peter, father Mr. Borg) and of their homes (Borgs' and Packards')? Also, might anyone remember the home next to the Packard "mansion", the ivy-covered home owned by the Ayssah family from (then)Persia who operated or owned a Mercedes import business (circa 1950)? Further, I am curious to learn anything of the history of the majestic home across the avenue from our own home. Unfortunately, I can no longer recall the name of the family who owned it.
As a small child, I watched trucks deliver full movie sets and camera equipment to film the exquisite property situated on the corner
of Central Avenue and Prospect. Would any contributors know of any source that might provide information concerning major film productions of the early 1950's in Hackensack? To me, the Southern architecture of the white-pillared mansion rivaled the Brewster Tudor mansion's in both size and elegance. The white mansion home was set on a very steep incline that backed up to Third Avenue
at its base. In winter, my brothers and I spent long hours with other neighborhood children sledding down its great hills after each and every snowstorm of my childhood. And, I fondly remember the kindness of their servants who checked on us throughout the day, yet never chased us off the hills until darkness threatened to close in. Each February, I would trudge up the long path to their front door, toting boxes of the Girl Scout cookies they had ordered. Though I recall that my parents had but a few occasions to make neighborly contact with the people of the great white house, one particular instance does stand out. One afternoon, my baby sister, then two, leaped into the front seat of the family car and, before anyone else could seat themselves beside her,she knocked the emergency brake free. The car careened with its door wide open down the very steep and swervy driveway, barely missing several massive beech trees. Watching the baby tossing about inside it, we all stood frozen, in shock, as the car blazed across the big wide Avenue. Miraculously, it slid through oncoming traffic, hopped the curb, and threaded between two more trees before crashing into the thick six -foot high shrubbery of the mansion we all referred to as Tara House (after the Plantation of movie fame). Although my little sister bore hardly a scratch, my family and the neighbors were all greatly shaken. After that day, we frequented for a time the owner of "Tara" to assure our neighbor my sister was healing her bumps and bruises. Still to this day, printed on my memory is the majesty of that home,the sparkling grandeur of its chandeliers,the span and height of its walls and ceilings,the warmth and colors of its greenhouse, a structure that fascinated even me, a young girl whose own family gardens exhibited splendid variety. On those visits, a woman of charm and elegance showed us the kind of hospitality and concern that matched the southern warmth of her home. Those were different times; they were.
Although our home spanned across several large lots, it was no match to the splendor and size of many of the other great homes.The interiors of those beautiful old homes on Prospect were truly as extraordinary as the interior of our own home was unique. Now, I am hoping someone might share additional information to share that might fill some of the gaps in the history of our two family homes and any of our neighbors, as well as any knowledge of either of the two neighborhoods of my Hackensack childhood.
Perhaps the most intriguing of all the stories I was told in childhood, was the local version that our Prospect home had been built by the mid 1800's and was said to have been a home whose history and unique structure had been connected to the history of the underground railroad. Stories of the man who had owned our home were often told to us by several of the servants who resided at the bottom of Central's hill, two others who lived in our family home, and a few who worked for other families on the hill. One servant woman, named Ruth, worked for the doctor who owned a home behind ours (up on Summit Ave). Ruth adored my mother. She held a fearful respect for our property and she was the bearer of many stories. Before we bought our home my parents had been sufficiently warned by others about its strange history. Either because we had been so informed or because the home was of such interest to others, on many occasions the Hackensack Police were summoned to settle our fright and check our premises for many unsolved mischiefs. We were told by the police that since our home was so huge, they suspected that homeless persons might be responsible for the unexplainables. A dominant set of such memories remains entwined with the love and pleasurable memories I hold for my unusual childhood home. Among other dreams that keep me tied to Hackensack is that I would like to find a way to locate (or recreate from memory) its floor plan. Likely, my family's imagination was captured by Dear Ruth. Surely our home was as rickety and squeaky and breezy as any other century-old home might be. Still, I remain fairly certain there must be a scent of history in the forebodings that started those women to wagging, and wag they did. For years my father (a contractor) had kept many sheets of large blueprints that I assume are now lost. Would anyone have any knowledge of any homes of the mid 1800's whose design was amenable to protect slaves? Do such homes really exist? Does anyone know of figures who may have been involved with the underground railroad in the Bergen County area? Could any such historical effects possibly remain of the building plans of any of those great homes?
I am fascinated with all things "Hackensack", not only Prospect Avenue; in fact, I am just as interested to learn more about my family's earlier home on Fairmont Avenue. I am no young girl for sure, but my memory of that Fairmont home is clear and vivid and my memories of those neighbors are ever warm and sweet. For instance, does anyone know of Frances Hess who lived on Fairmont, too? She was a teacher at Fairmont's elementary in the 1940's through the 50's at least. Her daughter Patty was my first best friend. I remember many details of their home, nearly as well as I do each of my own childhood homes.
<![CDATA[<a href="http://" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" class="bbc_link bbc_flash_disabled new_win">http://</a>]]>And Ava Allen and her little sister who carried an accent from their previous home in Johannesburg, South Africa and lived on the small side street nearest the school. Or Phillip, the first boy I ever liked, from around the corner and whose last name I cannot think of today (he actually ate my mud pies). And what of Bobby Wickersheim, the blonde-haired terror of Fairmont Avenue. Also, my grandparent-like friends, Mr. and Mrs. Shields who always invited me in to sit and chat on the straw-seated, child's ladder-back chair they kept on their front porch that was just my size!
Thank You Hackensack!
