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By Lori Chambers and Bill Glovin unkered beneath the elevated portion of Route 21 that cuts an industrial h area of Belleville off from the Passaic River, the brown sandstone church seems to cower from the passage of three centuries. From the roadway above, the soaring steeple looks close enough to touch; from the slate paving stones surrounding the church, traffic overhead is loud enough to drown out voices. Since 1697, the congregation of the Belleville Reformed Church has worshiped at this corner where Rutgers and Main Streets meet. Once, rolling farmlands led down to the riverbank; now, concrete industrial buildings and aging vinyl-clad houses clutter treeless streets. During the American Revolution, ILLUSTRATION BY MARK YANKUS Not even my clos“est living relative, who is quite knowledgeable about our family history, knew where to find me. ” FALL 2002 21 it is said, a sentry scanned the horizon from the site, looking for Upon hearing the signs of a British advance. Camouflaged by a mantle of soot and weeds, its brilliant stained-glass windows dimmed beneath pro - Declaration of tective glass, the church seems once again under siege. “ The congregation has dwindled to less than 40 souls, Independence read aloud all elderly, none wealthy. The church lives precariously, its bills paid by Sunday collections, monthly charity events, and in New York City weekly rental to a local Hispanic congregation. Vibrations from the roadway have cracked the plaster walls, and the organ no for the first time on longer works—but then again, the organist died a few years ago. Many of the whispered prayers are for a miracle to keep the July 9, 1776, we marched doors open. With the church’s very survival in doubt, there is lit - tle energy to devote to its cemetery, where rest the bones of 67 down to Bowling Revolutionary War veterans—more soldier-patriots, possibly, than at any other location in the country. Many stones have top - Green, pulled the lead pled, and knee-high brush chokes those that still stand. Small American flags mark the graves of a handful of the soldiers, but statue of King George even these have disintegrated to mere scraps of fabric clinging to weathered sticks. from its pedestal and When the Star-Ledger ran an article late in 1999 on the plight of the church, John Pearson, director of leadership gifts melted it down to for the Rutgers University Foundation, was appalled that a site of such historic significance could be so neglected. On the Newark make 42,000 bullets. campus, John Floreen, professor of fine arts, noted the church’s proximity to Newark and the ties it shared with Rutgers to the early Dutch Reformed Church. But their interest might have last - ” ed only until the turn of the page, except for one intriguing aside: The article contained a reference to the cemetery’s Rutgers family plot, where the remains of Colonel Henry, for whom the university was named, were said to lay moldering among those of his fellow patriots. I’ve got to admit that I’m somewhat surprised that no one thought to look for my final resting place before. After all, the bell I gave still hangs in the cupola of Old Queen’s, my $5,000 donation is still bearing income, and the univer - sity still carries my name. Not even my closest living relative, my great- great-great-grandnephew Nicholas G. Rutgers IV—who is quite knowledgeable about our family history—knew where to find me. I was born into prosperity on Monday evening, October 7, 1745, the fourth son of Hendrick and Catharine. My two eldest brothers died at birth. My mother’s father, Johannes dePeyster, had been mayor of New York. It may have been a sign of things to come that shortly after I was born, a wharf belonging to my paternal grandfather, Captain Harmanus, was taken by the British to fortify New York. My great-grandfather left what is now Albany to settle in New York City after Indians started burning the barley fields he cul - tivated to brew beer. He built a house and brewery on Maiden Lane, the street where Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton would IN 2001, R UTGERS live during my lifetime and where the Federal Reserve building is UNIVERSITY ARCHIVES WAS now located. He bought a 100-acre farm whose borders stretched to the East River and out to streets known today as Delancey to the ABLE TO PURCHASE north, Catharine to the south, and East Broadway to the west. When HENRY RUTGERS ’ WATCH FOB WITH AN ENGRAVED 22 RUTGERS MAGAZINE PHOTOGRAPH BY NICK ROMANENKO CITRINE AT AUCTION . he died, he left the farm to my father. When I was 10 years old, we built a stately home on the farm, complete with bricks imported from Holland. My father’s friend Benjamin Franklin installed lightning rods on our house and visited A PORTRAIT OF from time to time to check on them. On November 5, 1755, the HENRY RUTGERS ground shook and our iron shutters tumbled to the ground. Many of BY HENRY INMAN our neighbors feared that Mr. Franklin’s lightning rods were respon- sible, but we later learned that an earthquake originating in Lisbon had NOW HANGS been felt on this side of the Atlantic. IN OLD QUEEN ’S. After lessons, my friends and I rode horses through the fresh LESS THAN A meadows and rolling hills of lower Manhattan. Sometimes wolves CENTURY PASSED would spook our mounts, so riding skills were essential. I used to over - BETWEEN THE hear my father and Mr. Franklin grumbling about Tory taxes and the COLONEL ’S DEATH way the British perceived colonists. My parents stressed education and sent me to King’s College (today Columbia University), where I joined AND THE BIRTH an organization called the Sons of Liberty. The tenor of our meetings OF HIS GREAT -GREAT - was clear: unite the colonies and win independence from the British. GREAT -NEPHEW We met at such places as Fraunces Tavern and schemed against NICHOLAS G. our oppressors. We took a cue from our fellow patriots in Boston and RUTGERS IV. held our own tea party in Hudson Harbor.We responded to the Stamp NICK STANDS ON Act by burning the royal governor’s carriage at Bowling Green and WHAT WAS HIS boldly put up the Tree of Liberty, a pine post on the parade ground ANCESTOR ’S FARM AT where Tory soldiers exercised. The fight that broke out afterward may have been the first violent confrontation of the Revolution. THE CORNER OF Many of our well-heeled friends, neighbors, and cousins didn’t HENRY AND support the struggle for independence, and people were divided into RUTGERS STREETS IN two camps: loyalists and patriots. When it became too dangerous to NEW YORK CITY , meet in public, we moved our gatherings to my home and the homes NOW HOME TO ST. of other patriots. Alexander Hamilton, a fellow alumnus of King’s THERESA ’S CHURCH . College and about 10 years my junior, always spoke eloquently about our cause at the meetings. No one was surprised when, on April 23, 1775, a messenger came down the Post Road from Boston to warn us that shots had been fired at Lexington and Concord. note of a plaque on the front of the church, placed by the Already secretly organized as a militia, we soon seized control Daughters of the American Revolution, that listed the names of of New York’s custom house and city hall. In May, at the head of a 60 patriots buried on the grounds, including a Captain Henry company of grenadiers, we met the Boston, Connecticut, and New Rutgers. He noted, too, the deplorable state of the cemetery. “It York delegates to the Continental Congress at the ferry and escorted seemed that with the church’s ties to the Rutgers name, and them to Newark before they continued on to Philadelphia. Upon hear - Rutgers’ ties to the Dutch Reformed Church, there must be ing the Declaration of Independence read aloud in New York City for something that the university could do.” The same thought struck John Floreen, the director of the the first time on July 9, 1776, we marched down to Bowling Green, Rutgers University Chorus, who played with the thought of hold - where we pulled the lead statue of King George from its pedestal and ing a concert there, especially after a visit revealed that the build - melted it down to make 42,000 bullets.