Greg Korb

Megalopolis

Years ago, I read a book that would change my whole perspective on my state. That book was called The Pine Barrens, by John McPhee.

Up until the point when I cracked open this 1968 piece of long form journalism, I had never even heard of the Pine Barrens. It was no more than an hour and half’s drive to the south of where I grew up and took up a full 20% of my state (the densest in the union), but it was all but invisible to people from North Jersey who lived in what social historians deemed the Megalopolis. The Megalopolis is the stretch of nearly unbroken urban sprawl that stretches from Washington DC to Boston - unbroken except for the Pine Barrens.

The Pinelands, as they’re officially called, were officially and enduringly protected by laws enacted federally in 1978 and on the state level in 1979, under then Governor Brendan Byrne. Byrne championed the cause of the Pines during his years in office, and considered it his gift to the people of New Jersey. But Byrne himself would have never taken an interest in the Pine Barrens were it not for his regular tennis matches with an old friend from Princeton named John McPhee.

McPhee was a journalist and native of Princeton who became a staff writer for the New Yorker in the 1960s. Always on the lookout for a good story, his ears perked up when a high school friend of his told him about the Pineys.  The Pineys were the semi mythical people of the Pines - they were supposedly inbred, clannish, and illiterate. McPhee was skeptical, so he spent 9 months driving through the Pines and absorbing all he could.

In that time, he met the true people of Pines, starting in Chatsworth and radiating outwards. He collected stories and delved into the history until he successfully stitched together a narrative. The resulting manuscript was published in two parts in the New Yorker magazine in late 1967, and then as a complete book in 1968.

The Pine Barrens told the story of a unique slice of Americana buried deep within the Megalopolis. At once untouched by development and rich in history, with a proud people and detailed folklore (Jersey Devil hails from the Pines!), the book finally dispelled much of the lies and legends about the Pines. More than that, it presented the region as a national treasure that was being threatened by development on all sides. When he wrote it, there were plans in the works to build a 50 square mile supersonic jetport right in the middle of the Pines - a move that would be a death blow to the ecosystem.

Byrne read the book and fought for the Pine Barrens. He won legislative victories on the federal and state level in the late 70s, and the Pines were turned into national and state parks. To this day, he considers the Pine Barrens to be his greatest gift to the people of New Jersey. Coming from the densely packed North Jersey, it’s a different world. There are sandy roads for miles and brown, cedary rivers that snake through the forest. Everywhere you go, there’s an overwhelming, giddy smell of pine. Here’s a sneak preview:

So, if you find yourself anywhere between exits 48 and 82 of the Garden State Parkway, take a quick detour. It’ll be worth it.

The beginning…

What better place to start than with the earliest inhabitants of the land now known as New Jersey? Everyone school kid from Jersey knows who they were: the Lenni Lenape. Lenni Lenape? Didn’t I meet that guy in a bar in Morristown? Maybe, but in the Delaware languages, their name means the True People.

I remember taking a school trip in a school bus to Winakung, the Lenape settlement at Waterloo Village in Northwest New Jersey. Longhuts and open fires were everywhere, and the rock candy was fresh and tangy. And we learned a little about the history.

Many of the roads I grew up driving on were originally Lenape trading routes, and a lot of Jersey town names come straight from their language: Hopatcong, Hackensack, Mahwah, Ramapo, Hohokus. Yet where were they?

When Europeans made first contact, they found a matrilineal society of people connected more by language than anything else. This culture clash soon gave way to a thriving fur trade, which depleted the beaver population to dangerously low levels.  That coupled with infectious diseases, weakened the Lenape people. Ultimately, as Europeans ascended to power in the New World, the Lenape were pushed out west. Today, they live primarily in Oklahoma, and all that remains are their longhuts in Winakung.

Malls, Diners, and the Shore

I’ve always fascinated by how much people hate New Jersey. Mind you, I never encountered any antipathy within the boundaries of the state.  But as soon as I so much as stepped over the border, in any direction, people jeered and pointed like Jersey bashing was sunlight and they were photosynthesizing. Pennsylvanians, New Yorkers, Connecticats, and Delawardens all shared the same ridiculous opinions.

It didn’t stop with other USAmericans. At summer camps, I remember meeting kids from Europe and Asia who routinely referred to Jersey (usually in thick accents) as the armpit of America though they’d never been within 1000 miles of the state.

That’s why I’m writing this. I grew up there.  I’ve seen most of the state. And I love it.