"A Scand'lus Mixture of History and Folklore"
by Lillian Arnold Lopez

    I was born in the small town of Forked River, New Jersey, when everybody in town knew everybody else, and where there was an average of twelve kids in each grade, three grades per teacher.  Looking back, I have vivid memories of the Fireman's Fair when I was seven years old.  As long ago as I can remember, Forked River townspeople have gathered at the Community Hall for school programs, political rallies and bazaars.
    Another building important to townsfolk was the old post office (which is now the historical museum).  The post office not only served mail, but also stocked a few groceries.  However, the school kids' favorite section was the candy case, in the rear.  Today's Forked River is a far cry from the little town I knew that half century ago!
    It wasn't until the Pinelands began to get more attention in the 1960's and 1970's that I began to realize our past commonplace tales, songs and lifestyles were, in their natural simplicity, also unique.  Our coastal pinelands area is steeped in local color and tradition, from Barnegat Bay (with its sometimes notorious reputation) to the old sawmill towns (with their "hairy" tales) in this unique Pine Barrens.
    And, so I started my research, which began my collection of South Jersey folklore stories.  I soon became aware that the old ways, the speech and common metaphors, were dying off with the old citizens, so I began to search my memory for all I could remember before those old ways faded away forever.  They were sometimes hard to recall, and whenever I would think of something, I'd write it down. 
    One cannot properly research early coastal history without considering those first settlers, the Lenape Indians.  There are many stories about this interesting race of people who were so friendly and helpful to our settling ancestors.  They were by no means the savages that some people believed them to be.
  Our early settlers were a combination of several European countries and a kind of "middle ground" of our northern and southern states, all bringing their own traditional stories.  This "melting pot of multi-cultural lifestyle and habit was combined to create, for our area, a culture of its own, passed down through the generations, in forms of knowledge and entertainment.
    The townspeople's early lifestyles and speech were influenced by those first settlers who brought it from their native countries or different sections of the United States.  Who's to know, if people who moved to these towns didn't also bring the stories they inherited, along with their somewhat different language, mode of dress and food, customs and traditions.  It stands to reason that they probably had partial influence over the legends we have come to call our own. (I can recall that personally, as a schoolkid, I was always interested in whatever new children's game, "counting out" and jump rope rhyme newcomers could teach us.)
    Native people also compiled a language of their own, with words as well as expressions.  Some of our "corrupted" words were "arn," which was the word iron; "nary" meant none; "riz" mean raised, "famblies" was how they said families; a "chimley" was a chimney, and "brung" would mean to bring.  "Add" meant ridicule, such as "Don't add me."  "Two in a hill" meant doing fine.  Some of the local metaphors included sayings, like "...a dog who would bring a bone would take one," "...poor as Job's turkey," and "...he can tie a knot with his mouth that he can't untie with his teeth."  Ways to say keep a secret, were "mum's the word," "keep it under your hat," and "don't let the cat out of the bag."
    I like to employ simple rhyming patterns, such as has come down through history, from the times of chants, epics, and odes, reminiscent of primitive races and tribal chants around the campfire, and sailor's chantys at sea.
    This rhyming format, as well as being my favorite way of relating tales, is also a very old method of storytelling.  Years ago, folks made up and learned tales with similar line endings to keep their stories in sequence.  It was a way of entertaining each other at gatherings.  School children memorized works of well-known authors for "Friday's recitations."  I have included several stories, which I've read about and have found enjoyable, interesting and worthy of retelling in my rhyming style.  I enjoy writing these "conversations" in the old Piney dialect.  The subjects of these stories were researched by various writers, past and present, and to these authors I am truly grateful!
    When I was a kid and coaxed my parents and grandparents for stories about "the olden days," I didn't realize I was learning my ancestral history.  I only knew I was being entertained in an age when it was not too easy to find amusement; there were no radios, televisions or video pastimes.  It has been said that grandparents are like books; they're full of stories.  I was more than lucky to have had a living grandfather and grandmother - one from each side of my parents -  who thought enough of me to tell old stories to me (they always seemed to enjoy "recollecting," too).
    Yes, grandparents are full of tales, and who better to teach us our heritage, who we are and where we come from.  I'm so glad I got to listen to them before these stories and anecdotes were lost forever.
    Grandparents often lived with families.  I remember my maternal Grandpop living with us, and the attention he gave my sisters and I - the long walks and talks, the old songs he'd learned and shared, as well as the simple, natural tales (and some that were unnatural).
Grandpop had been a glassworks worker in his younger years in Winslow Township, where his family had settled in the early 1800's, from Holland.  Later, he moved down to West Virginia, where my mother was born in 1906.
    By the time my mother went to school, they had returned to South Jersey, and he worked in the old sawmill towns.  As you can see, my grandfather had a varied life, and it showed in his stories and songs.  He and my mother often reminisced about folks who lived in the pineland settlements.  I was "all ears," since their yarns were often "grown-up" anecdotes, which were usually off limits to kids in our family.  There was the "scand'lus" tale about the neighborhood woman who always pushed her tipsy husband home in a wheelbarrow.  Another, I remember was of a woman about to give birth on a wint'ry eve.  In the middle of the night, she awakened her husband to alert him she needed the midwife right away.  Not relishing a trudge thru' the snow, the young husband pleaded, "Oh, Emmie, can't you put if off 'til morning?!"
    There were also stories about the neighborhood halls, where the villagers had get togethers, and some of their activities, like contests and other fun things.  Also, in their day, there were still native people who remembered Indian Ann and her handwoven baskets.
    My mother's Uncle Will visited occasionally from Millville.  Though it's true that some old tales in their repetition got boring after a while, Uncle Will was one of those storytellers who could hold our interest, even when we KNEW what was coming next.  We never tired of hearing him tell us the tales of his youth.
    Everybody had their own distinct family folklore, mostly about their own family members, but they also related stories of the towns they lived in; friends and neighbors, and local, colorful characters.  Oftentimes, family and area folklore go hand-in-hand.  Tales about these folks were embellished or exaggerated, depending on the storyteller's imagination.  A common expression was, "...that ain't the way I heared it!"
   Some would recall the likes of legendary characters, including devils, monsters, spirits, ghosts, giants, sea serpents, witches, gangsters, murderers, braggarts, culprits, flim-flam artists, wartime heroes and village characters.  There were counterpart sightings to creatures like Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster.
    Other "notorious ones" would be compared to famous folk characters.  The Mullica River's Joe Mulliner, a Revolutionary War rebel and bandit of the old Tuckerton Stage, was nicknamed "the Robin Hood of South Jersey."  Though he was well known for many of his misdeeds and practical jokes, it is also said that he was somewhat of a charmer.  There was never any proof that he killed anyone, or even inflicted bodily injury.  Joe Mulliner was hanged in 1781, in Burlington, for robbery and traffic with the enemy.
    A tale my mother's family talked about was the "Witch of the Pines," in Pasadena, New Jersey, where they lived for awhile.  During and after the Revolutionary War, this "witch," whose name was Peggy, supposedly plagued New Jersey farmers, spoiled butter, "marked" infants and sickened horses and cattle on a routine basis.  It was also rumored that she was employed by the British.  Shortly after her husband Bill's death, a fire burned down Peggy's shack, with her inside.  It is said the fire had been set to cover up an alleged robbery and Peggy's murder.  After that, the little town was plagued by fires, including that of Pasadena's Terra Cotta Company. 
    There were always hair-raising tales about "Leejur's Devil," as they called the Leed's or Jersey Devil (named state demon in 1939).  Stories told in close sequence made him change right after birth and escape through the chimney or window.
    A few of the "blames" were that he caused hens to stop laying, cows to dry up, barns to  burn, crops to fail, droughts and storms, and carrying off newborn calves and chickens.  Though many reputable witnesses claimed to have glimpsed him, it was possible that he was their needed scapegoat.  We know that weather, careless people and animals could have been responsible for these calamities.
Another one of the stories my grandfather knew concerned a more conventional devil and a fiddler, named Sammy Buck.  This suspenseful tale was set in an old Pine Barrens town, and took place in the mid 1800's.
    My father's family cast their lots into our coastal area nearly 300 years ago, when it was still a wilderness.  My paternal Grandmom was always good for a story from the "olden times."  She was born and raised in Waretown, and came to Forked River, around 1900, when she married my grandfather (who was born in 1857).  My father was born in 1901.
    Grandmom made her own soap and salve.  She made good use of the healing plants and herbs that grew wild.  Grandmom gathered herbs, not only for flavorings, but also for medicinal purposes, as did others in her day.  Some of this knowledge crossed the sea with their forebears from their native countries.  Others were adopted from the Indians.  Sweet dock, dandelion greens and pokeweed grew wild.  The earliest settlers cooked these for Spring tonics.  We had our own names for native plants.  Mullein leaf was "old man's blanket," butterfly weed was "Railroad Annie," Indian pipes were "ghost flowers," and lady slippers were called "Whippoorwill Shoes."  Corn flowers were "raggedy sailors."  She called arbutus "maypinks," coreopsis was referred to as the "black-eyed Susan," and mountain laurel was "calico bush."
    My grandmother used milkweed for eye lotion and goldenrod for bee stings.  Corn silk was used as a tea for dieting.  Indian pipes were mixed with fennel for eyewash, and mullein was a diuretic or used for colic, to name a few.  She was very careful; some of these plants were "deadly poison."  She explained how Indians used bloodroot for dye.  Some of these plants grew wild in fields, others in swamps, where my father gathered sphagnum moss.
    Grandmom was also very superstitious; she called it "believing in signs."  She was a good storyteller, though sometimes shy about it.  I don't believe she ever knew how much I really got from her stories and experiences.  How well I recall sitting at her faded oilcloth covered kitchen table, with a cup of tea and a couple of her thick 'lasses cakes, while I listened and instigated more tales.
A couple of my subjects may not rightly belong in the coastal pinelands regions, but they are all New Jersey tales that I found worthy of writing about.  The section on the Revolutionary War along our shore is mostly to make our area schoolchildren aware that there was historical activity here in our shore towns, even though the Battle of Monmouth was the closest real battle.
    There were several area skirmishes locally, and our early ancestors were surely involved in this first great battle for independence.
    I feel a considerable pride in our heritage and area citizens.  I'd like to be able to convince all students of their own cultural importance, that the world wouldn't be the same without each of them and their family's contribution to their area.
                                                -Lillian Arnold Lopez

  About the Author

      Lillian Arnold Lopez was born Lillian Mary Arnold, on May 26, 1926, in Forked River, New Jersey.  Her loves of rhyming and history were sparked as a youngster by her grandparents, who told her stories of "the olden days."
    Lilli moved to Waretown with her husband, Vincent Lopez, and they raised five children.  She gave generously of her time and spirit to her church and community.
    Lilli inspired others to research their own family history.  She taught at libraries and schools, appeared on local television, and contributed articles to local publications.  She wrote three books about area history, "Piney Girl," "Story Poems of the Coastal Pinelands," and "Pineylore."
   
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