Letters! We Get Letters!
Valley View Golf Course
I am searching for long-time residents who may have any
memories, newspaper articles, or photos of the defunct Valley View golf course
that was located on River Rd. Any assistance would be greatly appreciated.
All the best,
March 11, 2013
I happen to see your site, and as the long-time Postmaster of
East Hanover, not to mention my many years residence in East Hanover, (since
1927,) before it split from Hanover Township (1928,) I'd like to offer any help
if I may. My predecessor (Orrin C. Whaites) and I served as Postmasters, of
Hanover, then East Hanover, for 74 years.
I am an old "Nostalgic" who loves "old days," "old times," "old friends!" And I
am also a "computer-nut!" Not many people my age will go near a computer! I find
great joy in it! If I can help, I would love to try!
Yes, we became East Hanover Township in 1928, by breaking away from the larger
"Hanover Township," (Whippany and Cedar Knolls,) but we remained three separate
sections, namely, "Hanover" which was located in the Village of Hanover, Mt.
Pleasant Ave, Hanover Road, River Road, Canfield Road, including the area of the
Valley View Golf Course, and Northwest to the Morristown and Erie Railroad
Tracks, with the old Post Office then located on Mt. Pleasant Avenue, opposite
River Road. The other sections of East Hanover Township were "Hanover Heights,"
Northwest of the Morristown and Erie Railroad Tracks, including all of Ridgedale
Avenue from Central School South, into Florham Park, the "Hanover Neck," which
included everything North of Central School, as well as Eagle Rock Avenue.
Hence, Eberhardt Farms would be in what used to be called "Hanover Neck," and at
that time, received U.S. Mail delivery "RFD Whippany," through the Whippany Post
Office. Today, those three sections of East Hanover Township are now all called
"East Hanover." Plus all of East Hanover now gets their mail via the East
Hanover Post Office.
In 1971, while I was still Postmaster, and in order to cut back on confusion,
the U.S. Postal Service changed our post office name from "Hanover," to "East
Ironically, I happen to live on Brace Drive, which intersects with Eberhardt
Road. I have lived here since 1957, having bought my house and property from a
Whippany builder, named Russell Kron, to whom Ben Brace, Sr. sold the property.
While I can't say I remember them personally, I do remember the Eberhardt/Wolter
mail delivery point. I remember that a Mr. Berry was the first builder to build
there when the Eberhardt/Wolters family sub divided their property for home
building. What made Mr. Berry's home notable was that it was an all-steel
constructed home, and it still stands today!
The Ridgedale Avenue side of Eberhardt Road was developed first by a local
builder, named Hans Mockelman, from the Germantown section of McKinley Avenue.
He built fine homes, which just happen to be out of my financial reach as a
newly married and a newly appointed Postmaster. Otherwise, I might have been an
Eberhardt road resident.
What Ben Brace, Jr. of Ohio tells you, may be correct. The Eberhardt Farmhouse
may have been the one on the Corner of Ridgedale Avenue and Cedar street. I
personally can't recall any farmhouse in the area, other than that. John Smith,
of recent years, used to own it---it may still be in his family. The owners of
that corner before the Eberhardts, and the Smiths, may have been a family by the
name of Maloveny.
Like your father [? - editor], I am 86 years of age, and know a
reasonable amout of our "Hanovers." Unfortunately, during my Postmaster years, I
did not take pictures around town---I wish I had. Even though my tenure was
before "Digital Cameras," film could have captured it just as well. Sadly, my
attention to business at hand, distracted me from the "history" that stared me
in the face!
I do highly recommend an "Images of America East Hanover" book by Steve
Swanbeck, that carries lot of old East Hanover pictures. I am sure your father
would enjoy these. I am sure that is still available, either thru E-Bay or
Amazon, if not at your local library.
Also, another suggestion. Go to (this is zillow.com) and type in any number on
Eberhardt Road, and you will get a photographic view of the entire neighborhood,
and by placing your cursor on the scene, moving it left, right, up, down -- you
see a perfect photographic view of the area, as it is today!
Anthony J. Pellecchia
Hanover/East Hanover, NJ 07936
What do you get when you combine a brand new 1969 Volkswagen
Fastback with a Cessna 150 aircraft (vintage unknown)?
Years ago, when the Earth and I were much younger than we are
now, I used to work at Bell Labs in Whippany, commuting back and forth from a
rented room in my department head’s E. Hanover home. I had moved – temporarily,
I thought -- to East Hanover from Manhattan for what I believed would be only a
short duration contract of perhaps six months. As we all know, ‘things’ rarely
turn out as planned, and that is why – a year later – I was still at Bell Labs,
living in New Jersey with an apartment of my own, a brand new Mustang, and a
really neat girlfriend [not necessarily in that order of importance]. I was also
taking flying lessons at “the old East Hanover Airport.”
was my girlfriend, Sylvia, who had put me on to the idea of learning to fly. I
am certain that some of our friends may have given thought to the idea that, if
Sylvia played her cards right, she might soon be in line for a new boyfriend
because I was a lousy flight student and, if permitted to solo, would probably
have become a permanent feature of the terrain somewhere between Whippany and
East Hanover. Not wishing to appear cowardly in Sylvia’s presence however – most
guys will know what I’m talking about – I persevered and continued, each
Saturday morning, to go on risking the lives of both myself and my instructor.
It never occurred to me that I might be risking Sylvia’s life and limb as well.
Often, Sylvia would drive out to the airport to watch my landings and takeoffs,
and to snap a few ‘action’ photos. Her green Volkswagen Fastback, with Sylvia
standing alongside of it, could usually be seen from the cockpit, sitting at the
end of the runway, as I tried, in a cold sweat, to land without ‘pranging the
kite.’ On one morning my instructor informed me that we would be practicing
landings and takeoffs in ‘round-robin’ style; that is, we would takeoff, climb
out, turn 180 degrees until we were parallel with the runway again, get back
into the traffic pattern – there was never any traffic – and land. Without
coming to a stop, we would then repeat this performance, multiple times, until
my hour of instruction was, thankfully, over.
Now I have to tell you something about the Cessna 150 and, in fact, about all
carburetor equipped aircraft engines; There is a little something called
‘carburetor heat.’ This appears to the novice pilot as a little knob on the
dashboard which is labeled, not surprisingly, as ‘carburetor heat’ but, more
than that, it refers to a small electrically powered heater which resides inside
the carburetor itself and is controlled by that little knob. When the heater is
turned on, the air and fuel stream are heated slightly on the way to the engine
in order to prevent freezing. In addition to preventing freezing, however, this
extra heat also lowers the density of the fuel/air mixture and, incidentally,
the available engine power. That is why you do not want carburetor heat to be
switched on when you are trying to get the aircraft off the ground. Because most
aircraft like to stay on the ground and, if you’re trying to get one into the
air you will need all the power that you can get in order to accomplish this. On
the other hand, when you are attempting to land a Cessna 150 you will find that
it wants to come down anyway and so you really do not need, or want, all that
power but you really don’t want the fuel/air mixture to freeze and stall the
throttled back engine as this could prove to be a little more than just
embarrassing. That is when you need to turn carburetor heat on. So the drill for
‘round robin’ is quite easy to understand: When you’re landing you want
carburetor heat to be on, and when you are attempting to leave the ground you
want the darned thing off. Simple! Right? Now what did I say? Exactly!
My first two or three round robins went off pretty well and I was, in fact,
beginning to feel a little like the Red Baron or Johnny Johnson of the RAF. I
would switch carburetor heat off, neutralize the flaps, shove the throttle all
the way in, watch the air speed as the needle crossed seventy mph, and then pull
back on the yoke and, suddenly, we were airborne with Sylvia and her fastback
right beneath us, snapping pictures as we lifted over the power lines – yes,
there were power lines – and over the trees beyond. It was thrilling and heroic
and, with my best girl looking on, filled with romance. All that was missing was
some music from the “Battle of Britain” movie. The hairs on the back of my neck
prickled and I almost forgot that I was fearful of heights and always had been,
“One more time,” my instructor yelled into my ear above the engine noise,” and
then we’ll pack it in for the day.” I nodded at him, finished my climb out and
turned until I was parallel with the runway again; ran along it and beyond it,
turned back into my approach, turned on carburetor heat, throttled back, applied
some flap, throttled back a little more as the runway came up to meet us, and
then we were down. “One more time,” he reiterated. Immediately I shoved the
throttle in again, cleared the flaps and raced down the runway towards the
fastback, the power lines, the trees, and towards Sylvia... Only this time
things didn’t happen the way they had before; the engine seemed tired; it took a
very long time to get near seventy mph; the speed that we needed in order to get
airborne. Finally the needle crossed seventy and I pulled back on the yoke. The
aircraft hesitated and then, with painful slowness; like an old man climbing a
flight of stairs, began a very slow and shallow ascent. It seemed as though the
whole world had slowed down in front of me. It was like a still photograph, one
of those that Sylvia might already have taken from where she stood right beneath
us. In that moment I knew that something terrible was about to happen; the kind
of thing which only happened to other people but which could happen to any of
us, and then we would be those other people... But while these thoughts sped –
in milliseconds – through my nearly paralyzed mind, a voice rang out into my ear
and a hand shot forward and threw a switch. “Carburetor heat!” the voice
yelled as the engine roared and surged with new power, hurling us up over the
power lines, and over the frightened, bowing trees beyond. I held the yoke
steady, actually frozen to it and continued to climb out steadily, making no
effort to turn. “I’ll take it.” he said and I willingly, gladly, relaxed my hold
on the yoke. We flew on as they say: “without a word,” me with my eyes fixed on
some invisible point deep within myself until, finally, I felt the redeeming
hand on my shoulder. I turned and my instructor was grinning; actually grinning.
“You know,” he said, “those damned power lines actually have tiny rust spots on
them. Never noticed that before.”
By the time Sylvia had driven around to collect me I had recovered enough so
that she, seemingly, noticed nothing unusual. “You were great!” she exclaimed
with a big, very welcome hug. “I’m not going back.” I said. I had to tell her
right away or I might be too cowardly to tell her at all -- I knew that -- and
then I would wind up going back the following Saturday. She must have known that
something was wrong because all she said was “OK.
What do you want to do now?” “I think I would like to marry you.” I said. And my
beautiful Sylvia, once more replied “OK.”
That was forty two years ago. Sylvia and I live in Colorado now but I’m sorry
that the airport is almost completely gone, even though I might never have gone
there again. Something happened there; something of importance and, oh yeah, I
never did find out what happens when you combine a brand new 1969 Volkswagen
Fast back with a Cessna 150 aircraft (vintage unknown).
Eric Stanley Roll
Fort Collins, CO
March 17, 2011
Compiling Family History
A few days ago, I struck gold! A long-lost cousin
contacted me, and now another. I had promised to tell you if my letter on your
letters page was a success...it was, indeed. Thank you, for your help.
September 11, 2009
I am anxious to make contact with family members
in East Hanover. Joe Schuler, former police chief in East Hanover, was my
cousin. If anyone in his family would be willing to contact me, and help with
the family history I am compiling, I would be very appreciative.
May 3, 2009
House Is a Disgrace?
I recently visited East Hanover and stopped at
what is left of my old home place [574 Ridgedale Avenue]. I am ashamed to admit I lived there in the
50's. The house is almost ready to fall down - the out buildings and garage
already has. Someone has finally cleared some of the growth away from the house
and now you can see what a real mess it is. I understand no one has lived there
for years - WHY HASN'T EAST HANOVER HAD IT TORN DOWN? Are the taxes still being
paid on the property? Over the years, while attending high school reunions, I
have driven by and I know nothing has been done to the property since my family
sold it to the present owners in 1959. The eyesore should be removed.
Barbara Michal Reed
March 16, 2009
Christmas Eve Remembrance
My parents lived in Whippany for almost 60 years
in a number of houses most of them near the Brickyard Pond, known to those who
don't know any better as Bee Meadow where the town's Swimming Pool sits. Before
the pool was built in the mid '60s, the area hosted the remains of an 19th
Century brick factory with all sorts scary buildings, tunnels, chimneys, and the
creepy crawlers within. I lived my first 22 years roaming this wondrous mix of
nature, history, and legends. Attached is a short Christmas Fable that takes
place in 1962 describing two of the semi-fictional figures who inhabited this
lost world which I ponder often. I now reside in Washington, DC but return on
occasion to walk around the Pond to regain the spirit that lived in all of us
who lived in Whippany after WWII. I thought during this season with times so
tough for many, your readers might enjoy this
short tale about what it was like to
live near the Brickyard on Christmas Eve when the real and the not-so-real
intertwined. Thank you for taking the time to look this over. I think you will
like it. Whippany, the Brickyard, what a place to have grown up in and to
Terry Scott Boykie
December 16, 2008
Drive to ShopRite?
Here is a great idea about building a
supermarket. Since everyone that lives in East Hanover has a car to commute,
What is wrong with driving over to Livingston ShopRite which is maybe 5 minutes
away from Pathmark. If you don't like Pathmark then drive 5 minutes more to
ShopRite . Both places are affordable when it comes to prices.
Route 10 already looks like Route 22 with stores
everywhere so why destroy whatever is left in East Hanover. The reason why we
live in East Hanover is to have some quality of life where we don't need to deal
with extra traffic and higher taxes to support new building facilities (extra
police officers and firefighters and larger schools)
December 5, 2008
Who Needs Speed Humps?
I received a letter from PMK Group pertaining to
placing 3 speed bumps along Timberhill Drive. I think that spending the taxpayer
money on building speed humps in a quiet residential street is a waste of money.
Instead if there is a abundance of money in East Hanover, maybe it should go
towards the school system where it is needed.
December 5, 2008
Occasionally some letters we get explode into a much larger
discussion. One example is the subject of the former
Another was a question about the airport identification code for
the old East Hanover Airport.
More recently, there's been some discussion about a
potential new supermarket moving into
To contribute to any of these topics or to start a new
thread, just let us know!
As other topics emerge, we'll be discussing them right here!