BOROUGH HALL – on Second Street was originally a Presbyterian chapel that was built in 1845. After the Presbyterians built a grander church on Fourth Street in 1854, a Mrs. Smith conducted a private school in the old chapel.
Frenchtown achieved boroughhood in 1867, but it had no headquarters. In 1873 Borough Council was meeting in a rented room in I.H. Wilgus' building, which was a wooden structure on the northeast corner of Bridge and Harrison streets. Wilgus had a furniture store and undertaking establishment on the ground floor. (This building burned down in 1878.)
In 1874 the borough bought the old Presbyterian chapel, whose sanctuary measured 24 by 36 feet, for $550 and hired Civil War veteran Obadiah Stout (1823-1895) for $1,264.50 to “repair the old building and build 14 feet additional,” according to the Hunterdon Independent. I mention those figures not so you'll say, “Gee, things were cheap then.” I do it so you'll compare the purchase price to the reno price, and get an idea of the extent of the conversion.
On March 12, 1875, council's building committee – Isaac Taylor, Eli Swallow and Nathan Shurtz – submitted their final report to council and disbanded.
From the start, Borough Hall was a venue for performances. D.L. Shrope, writing in 1917, believed that the first show there was “The Idiot Witness” by the E.L. Davenport Dramatic Company of Easton, Pa., in a two-night stand, sponsored by the Knights of Pythias lodge.
Many shows followed.
For example, on the evening of Saturday, July 29, 1882, Prof. C.R. Nightingale had use of the hall to exhibit his phonograph or “talking machine.” Admission was 15 cents for adults, 10 cents for children.
In November of 1888 Borough Hall hosted Prof. William Thompson's extravaganza which included Bohemian glass blowers; Nellie Majante with her monster den of performing reptiles; Griffin the Wonder Worker, illusionist, ventriloquist and fire king; Charles A. Bonney, the musical albino, Scotch bagpiper and mimic; Major Rhinebeck, the smallest man on Earth; a happy family of funny monkeys and birds and animals of every description; plus a Punch and Judy puppet show “for the little ones.” The professor promised, “A moral entertainment without an objectionable feature.” Admission: 10 cents. The Star later quantified Maj. Rhinebeck's smallness – 3 feet – and noted that he had previously been with the Frank A. Robbins circus, which was wintering just across the river.
Teen diarist Raymond Fargo wrote in 1906 of three programs that hall – one that featured combat between a bear and a bulldog, and two evening spelling bees, with adults competing, including Raymond's teacher.
From 1909 to 1919, and again in 1932 the council chamber doubled as a movie theater.
Over the years, Borough Hall has supplied space for other municipal uses – as school (in the 1920s and '60s), firehouse, lock-up, library and police headquarters. The belfry was added in 1890.
During the Depression, its warm furnace room was a shelter for vagrants. In December of 1933 the borough decided that its hospitality was being abused by “assorted bums, tramps, hoboes and hitch-hikers who put up overnight under the town hall,” according to the News. “Word has gotten out that Frenchtown is a great place to hole up for the winter,” reported Jerry Zich of the Delaware Valley News, who described one night's sleeping arrangements: “A half-dozen lay about the room on newspapers spread over the hard floor. All had their clothes on, and having taken off their shoes and socks, used these for pillows.”
Because some transients were not as transient as the borough would like – staying on for weeks – it was decided that guests would only be admitted at night, and their stays would be limited to one night.
Hospitality to the homeless was eliminated in March of 1941. Borough officials said that eight to 16 men a night were being sheltered in Borough Hall and then annoying residents with their panhandling. Mayor Hugh Sinclair ordered Marshal Godfrey Hawk and assistant marshal Russell Gordon to keep the place locked up.
The library has been on the ground floor since 1950, at first sharing that level with the police. When next-door-neighbor Ruth Klinkowstein died in 1990, she bequeathed her house to the borough, and it became police headquarters. The benefactress' painted portrait hangs in Borough Hall.
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