Can you imagine Englewood ever looking like this? This photo goes back to 1880 and looks down Palisade Avenue, eastward across the railroad tracks.
Back then, decades before cars would appear on Englewood’s roads, horse-drawn wagons were the only traffic in town. They would have to be careful in approaching the railroad tracks—note the lack of safety measures, such as today’s crossing gates. Of course, without the constant background noise of modern life—picture no traffic sound, televisions, ringing phones, airplanes or heavy machinery—it was probably pretty difficult to overlook the arrival of a train.
The following story tells us just how different Englewood was in the 1880s: In September of 1885, marauding livestock created a problem in the village. The Improvement Society—a group founded in 1868 for the purpose of beautifying Englewood—had just planted some new trees along Engle Street. A gang of local goats set upon them, doing considerable damage. Members of the Society appeared before the township council, entering a complaint and seeking compensation. The council refused them on the grounds that wayward goats did not fall under their purview. Instead, citizens were advised they could shoot any offending goats on sight.
Headlines of the past: Tenafly girls seek adventure in the big city
The following article about a teenage escapade appeared in the New York Daily News this week 93 years ago, on Sept. 27, 1926. The young girls’ surnames have been omitted here.
Two little runaway girls were all alone in the great big city Saturday night. And loved it. But their adventure was all too short.
Two little runaway girls sulked in the East 51st Street police station yesterday while their pappies spoke stern words and harsh words.
And then the two little girls went back to their homes in Tenafly, N.J.
Mary K., 17, and Helen B., 15, came to New York Saturday with their prettiest clothes, a little money and a lot of confidence. They wanted excitement. School life was simply too boring.
They rented a furnished room at 622 Lexington Ave., paid a $5 deposit and then ventured forth to explore the city. They returned about midnight, slept happily and were consuming a combination breakfast-luncheon yesterday when a big policeman knocked on the door and invited them to step over to the police station.
Meanwhile, their fathers were rushing to New York after having requested the missing persons bureau to detain the girls. Mary’s mother gave the address at which the misses could be found.
Mary’s father, of Knickerbocker Road, Tenafly, was the first wroth parent to arrive.
He flew into the police station, interrupting the vivacious conversation Mary and Helen were having with a tall, handsome policeman.
Helen’s father arrived soon after, the girls were dumped into the family automobile, their baggage collected and—zip—back to school and Tenafly.
