In 1765 John Estell a business partner of both men who purchased the tract built a damn across the Atsayunk which would be used to power a saw mill. Charles Read then bought the rights and built the Atsion Iron forge which was used to convert pig iron from Batso into bar iron. By 1770 there were four forge fires and two hammers. This forge was used to produce iron in the american revolution. John Estell was the owner of the Estell Glassworks which you will also see photos from our visit there on future pages from our Pine Barrens adventure. You will also read and see Batso so everything as you can clearly see has some sort of connection.

Charles Read was financially strapped and had physical ailments so he sold his interest in Atsion in 1773 to Henry Drinker and Abel James from Philadelphia. In 1773 Lawrence Saltar acquired the remainder of interest which was nearly half of the entire interest. Those three new partners formed the Atsion Company which operated the works for 13 more years. The company purchased Blast Furnace Machinery to process the bog ore in the local lake bed and connecting streams nearby instead of relying on importing pig iron from Batso a eight  miles downstream. By 1804 the partnership ending do to conflicts.

In 1805 the son in law of Henry Drinker named Jacob Downing purchased 20,000 acres which including the Blast Furnace, Air furnace, forge, sawmill and Gristmill at an auction.  He made the iron works prosper for a few more years then mortgaged his interest in Atsion to the Bank Of North America and in 1822 the bank sold it along with the Hampton Furnace track just a few miles away to Samuel Richards the son of William Richards of Batso. Samuel Richards built the giant mansion in Atsion in 1826 along with a couple dozen dwellings. The Quaker/Methodist church and company store were built in 1827 and 1828. He had a work force of about 120 men at that time till his death in 1842.

After his death he left half of the estate to his daughter Maria and the other half to his son William. In 1849 his daughter Maria married William Flemming of SC.  In 1852 he tried to open up a paper mill since the local iron industry basically fell apart. The mystery to the town was whether the mill actually ever opened. In 1854 to seek protection from his creditors he left the country along with Maria in Brussels. He went bankrupt and the collectors wanted their money. 

In 1861 Jarvis Mason of Philadelphia bought the property.  A little before that time in 1856 William and John Torrey launched the Raritan and Delaware Bay Railroad. In 1860-1861 those train tracks reached Atsion which became their temporary southern terminal. A connecting line was run to Atco, connecting to the Camden and Atlantic Railroad which was later taken over by the Pennsylvania Railroad. The Torrey's who operated the trains from NYC to Camden, via Atsion starting in 1862 eventually went bankrupt by 1967. The railroad was not all a waste though it did flourish during the Civil War as it helped transport troops and supplies. 

In 1871 Maurice Raleigh another wealthy man from Philadelphia bought Atsion and he built a cotton factory which the ruins still remain today. He changed the name back from Fruitland to Atsion. The cotton mill is a truly magnificent little structure. When you hear cotton you usually think further south. Today some of the old cotton equipment still remains.

In 1892 the property was acquired by Joseph Wharton which is now part of the Wharton State Forest when NJ purchased the land in 1954. When Wharton owned the property he had a man by the name of Andrew Etheridge run the general store and care take the town. In 1925 he died but the family continued to live in the caretakers home until the state purchased it. 

Today not much remains the church, cemetery, cotton mill ruins, the Greek Revival Richards Mansion and a few other structures remain. However the ghost town dates back to the 1700s its one of the older more prosperous ones that still remain partially in tact.  Its also one of the first ghost towns that borderlines the Wharton State Forest so its not very deep in the Pine Barrens. 

Despite that fact it was a hotspot for Jersey Devil activity in 1978 when a couple saw this creature at Atsion Lake which sits across from the ghost town. They claim they seen it on the shoreline moving through the underbrush while they were canoeing. Just as a group of campers in Atsion that they heard screams throughout the night which kept them up. Those same screams were also heard up in another ghost town we visited named Smithville.  I do think sightings in Atsion are higher simply because its on the Mullica River which seems to be a hotspot for this creature. Their are of course many other accounts of sightings and one of the best ways to get deep into the Pine Barrens is to take the stage coach road through Atsion and into the woods. Today the train tracks lay overgrown giving you a reminder of what was once a bustling little community.

© By

Lord Rick

Atsion
By Douglas Entwistle

As most of you already know Atsion is a small village on the southern boarder of Burlington County. For the most part the homes and buildings are gone, but there are a few notable exceptions. The mansion, the country store, the old Atsion Church, old school house and a tenant house.

Prior to the state purchase of the "Wharton Estate" in the early 1950's Atsion was still an active community. The old tenant house is a double house and the half that my parents lived in was still occupied. As with most of my life experiences it's last tenant was a bit out of the ordinary. He happened to be a Circus Clown. His name was Bill Bailey and on occasion worked in Philadelphia for a TV station. At one point he produced a short movie for TV. For the movie he needed a fire engine. Upon the movies completion, he parked the fire engine next to his house, where it rested for many years. This became a monument to my children, their dad was born in the house with the red fire engine parked out front. This proved to be somewhat prophetic, Almost all of my family became involved in public service working or volunteering as firemen, emergency medical technicians, and police officer. It is possible that the fire engine had a small part, among many others, sparking their interest in sirens, rotating red beacons, and bright red vehicles.

I guess what ties me to Atsion more than anything else, that still exists today, is a small concrete sidewalk. This sidewalk started at the gate of a picket fence that surrounded the home of Anna and Sid Crain. They lived in the other half of the double house mentioned earlier. Often during the summer months my mother would walk to Atsion, taking me with her to visit Anna Crain. I would like to explain, I have no memory of living in Atsion. We moved about a mile north on Rt. 206 when I was about 6 months old. My early memories are from those visits. But back to the sidewalk. One of Anna Crain's boys had a little toy car you sat in and peddled. I would spend hours riding back and forth on that sidewalk, driving a "real" car.., in my imagination. In the yard, happened to live a raging "beast" in the form of a dog. Now this was no ordinary dog, I remember that it looked like a beagle but the likeness ended there. This dog was NOT a pet, the dog was absolutely vicious and I am convinced had no redeeming qualities other than scaring living daylights out of friend and foe alike!. Mr. Crain had him on a leash attached to a wire run ending just short of the fence gate. Anyone coming through the gate would be confronted by a snapping, snarling dog that became airborne as it lunged toward him, apparently aiming at his victims throat. The leash would come up short, spinning the dog to the ground where it would continue to snap and snarl at the intruder. Being an intelligent man, Mr. Crain fed the dog by pushing it's dish to it with a broom handle! After a short while the dog would ignore me as I peddled back and forth in my little car. Although, believe me, I kept my distance from him!


Back in 1989 I renovated a building on my property into offices. During the construction I had them build a concrete sidewalk between the back porch of my house and the rear of the office building. The sidewalk is about 50 feet long and I specifically had it constructed to duplicate the little sidewalk in Atsion. Everyday I walk on my sidewalk it brings back memories of those days long past. I must say as I reach the end of my sidewalk, I am tempted to look to my left, to make sure the "dog's" chain is secure. What really shocked me was how small the sidewalk from the past really was, when I visited Atsion last year. I would like to mention "Etheredge's Store". The Park Rangers are now using it as their Station Office. The building is the first structure on the left as you enter Atsion going south on Rt. 206. The building resembles a church. I believe there once existed a bell tower. I could be wrong. As you entered the front door, the counter was on the right. On the counter sat a large coffee grinder with two large cast iron wheels. The machine was dark reddish brown with pin stripes of gold leaf and little hand painted floral designs. One of the wheels had a handle attached to turn it. Oh! what a heavenly smell. Next to the coffee grinder was a roll of brown paper with an iron weight that acted as a cutter. Included was a roll of binder twine, the twine threaded thru a wire eye for tying packages. In front of the counter stood barrels of pickles, crackers and other wares. Above the barrels behind a curved glass showcase was a selection of penny candies. To the left sat a pot bellied stove, it's stove pipe snaking nearly to the ceiling before entering the chimney. Other wares, kerosene lamps, buckets, scrubbing boards etc were on display. On the wall above the offering hung a hexagonal "school" clock, it's pendulum slowly swinging, producing a relaxing, almost hypnotic ticking sound, tic - toc --- tic - toc, how peaceful and serene it was. It's enough to say, the sights, the sounds and smells were memorable. Outside just off the highway stood one orange and blue GULF gasoline pump. It was the type, you pumped by hand. As you pumped you filled a glass container on top to the gallons marked by a vertical measuring indicator. This you multiplied by the price per gallon ($.17 @ 10 gallons = $1.70 ), how do you like those prices? Circa: 1939 -.You then dispensed it by gravity through the hose into the car's gasoline tank. Guess where you could purchase gasoline when the electrical power failed? Overseeing this empire was Mrs. Mamie Etheredge. A gray haired little old lady that was a bit hard of hearing. I discovered quickly you had to speak directly at her in a loud voice for her to hear you.

Behind the store stands the mansion. Back in the 30's it was in dis-repair and the standing order to all the children was "stay away from the mansion". I was told that some of the older boys who braved stories of ghosts, cobwebs and rotted floors actually went inside. Upon their returnthey told stories of the unnatural sights and sounds they encountered, thus persuading the younger children, which included me, to steer clear of the "mansion". I doubt that anyone ever "toured" the mansion at night. It has to be noted that Atsion was the perfect place for stories about the "Jersey Devil", the "Headless Horseman", ghost, and spirits. You have to picture large dark silhouettes of the old buildings against a moonlit lake as their backdrop. The only lights visible were usually kerosene lanterns flickering and shining through windows of the occupied houses and lightning bugs flashing in the fields. Do you remember their lights changing to thousands of little streaks as you watched them from a speeding car's window? As darkness fell, Atsion filled with night sounds. In the summer crickets, katydids, frogs and the Whip-or-will could be heard just after sunset, it's soft voice calling whip-or-will, whip-or-will, whip-or-will, each call numbering three. Softly layered on this background of sounds, the occasional hooting of an owl. Speaking of owls, there is one sound you will never forget., especially in Atsion, it is the call of a "Screech Owl". If you've never heard one, they sound like someone screaming in pain! Then there was the constant sound of black water cascading over the dam, feeding the Mullica River. Walking along the darkened paths, often you would be startled by a night flying bird or confronted by someone appearing out of the darkness in front of you. In the winter on very cold nights when the lake was frozen solid, and you walked bundled against the cold, you would hear prolonged cracking and booming sounds on the lakes surface as the ice fractured, giving way to pressure as it expanded.

The little Atsion Church also added to your quickening step. Just beyond the front entrance was and is a very old tree with only a few of it's branches still alive. At the proper angle in the moonlight you could imagine it being one of many threatening beasts. A small grave yard with 30 or 40 headstones, some standing askew in the moonlight ompleted the scene. All the dangers were perceived, none were real.

Traveling past the church on Quaker Bridge Road, the next building of significance is located about 50 feet to the right of the road. This is the Atsion School House. My mother who is 90 went to school there. There is a family photograph of her standing beside the building with some of her school friends. The picture suggests that she was about 10 years old. Continuing on you come upon a railroad crossing, the tracks now overgrown and abandoned. About 100 yards to the right stood the Atsion Train Station. The train station was closed very early in the 1930's although the tracks were still in use to about 1960. The trains arriving and leaving gave me my first glimpse of steam engine driven trains. I believe that very early in my childhood, I recognized a lifetime fascination with steam trains. There is no other train engine that has the character and personality of a steam engine. In every way they display their uniqueness through sound, the explosive release of steam as the pistons strain to pull it's heavy load. The whistle warning those standing near, that the train is moving. This was an awesome sight, at least to a small child, this huge machine belching smoke and steam, it's drive wheels screeching and spinning, as the engineer gently eased forward on the throttle, adjusting the engine's power, trying to maintain traction between the drive wheels and the track. Added to all of this the ringing of the bell. The sight was doubly intensified at night by the orange glow of the coal fire box ejecting a shower of glowing cinders as the coal stoker shoveled on more coal. All of this scene silhouetted against a backdrop of moonlit pines. To compare this with the diesel or electric engines of today lacks virtually all of the sights and sounds of yesterday. How many of you still, if you happen to arrive at a railroad crossing as the train is passing, count the cars being pulled by the engine? I know that I still do. At least if the train appears to be a long one. A few years ago my wife and I visited Colorado, while there we drove up into the mountains to a town called Leadville, the town of "Unsinkable Molly Brown" fame. It also sported the fact that the town's airport was the highest in altitude of any airport in the United States, over 10,000 feet. On the way we saw a freight train being pulled by 4 diesel engines slowly climbing a grade. The engines were straining under the load probably traveling less than 20 miles per hour. I immediately found myself counting the cars even though we weren't waiting at a crossing.

Oh, by the way a penny placed on the railroad track with a 30 or 40 car freight train passing over it will transform the coin from a round penny to an oval penny devoid of all stamping. For whatever that's worth! Many years ago the train station was purchased by the Gardner brothers, farmers of Indian Mills and moved to it's new location about 100 yards to the west of Rt. 541, about a mile north of the Rt.#206 intersection. It was used for several years as housing for farm laborers. The building today has collapsed leaving only a pile of scrap lumber marking the spot where it once stood. A sad memorial to a once thriving public transportation link to Philadelphia and New York.

A product produced at Atsion during the winter season was ice cut from the frozen lake. This was accomplished by men with large "ice" saws, about 4 or 5 feet long with a "T" handle at the top. The saw had very course teeth designed for cutting ice. When the ice was thick enough they would cut it into blocks and store it for many months in the "Ice House" located near the site of the new building the state constructed for swimmers. My mother spoke many times about the "Ice House". For some reason I got the impression that the building was of modest size and was surprised when I saw a picture of it in a publication called "A Journey Through Atsion" by Sarah W.R. Ewing. It was large, dwarfing a freight car resting next to it awaiting a load of ice for a trip to the city. It appeared to be about 250 to 300 feet long and about 4 stories high, made entirely of wood. I understand that ice could be stored, packed in saw dust insulating it, thus making ice available through the summer season. How different it is today with our refrigeration and freezer systems. Just imagine how labor intensive it was to cut, store and deliver ice to the public for food preservation.

As a teenager and young adult, Atsion Lake played a pivotal roll in my life. It was the place to go on hot summer days that eventually led into warm summer evenings. There were two beaches (we called them coves) one next to the highway, the other located at the end of a dirt road that passed a tiny grave yard with just two head stones. A short distance beyond the graves, the second "cove"was located on the spot that is now occupied by the Visitors Center. My friends and I would usually swim off the beach located near the highway. There were a couple of tree stumps hidden under the surface of the cedar colored tea brown water that if I swam there today, I believe I could still find with my feet. There was one stump that was in about 8 feet of water, find it and you could stand with your head well above the surface.


I guess almost everyone, especially when we were teenagers acquire fond memories. We didn't recognize their importance at the time, but upon reflection, become precious to us in later years. We keep them tucked away on dusty shelves in the closets of our mind. Now and then something, an odor, a certain song or maybe a place will bring it all back, usually, only for a moment, but quoting the late Jackie Gleason "How Sweet It Is!" You remember your friends and childhood sweethearts as they were, and wonder, if they are still living, how they may look today. It is fitting, I believe that you should never get the chance to see them now. Because your memories of them as they were, keep those wondrous years intact. Not that they are not beautiful people in their senior years, but your memories of them the way they were, give you a firm grip on that sometimes bittersweet past. The same would apply for them if they saw me today. Also what may have seemed to you then as the perfect girl or boy for a mate, probably would have ended in failure. We were too young and these loves were just part of growing up. Although I do hope that they..., briefly, in quiet moments, remember me.

These are some of the memories that Atsion offers me when I visit there. These visits give me mixed emotions, on one hand the "Village" brings back those experiences, on the other I have a sense of sadness. This sadness overtakes me when I look at it's abandonment. But towns come and go based on their ability to stay with the times. It is apparent that Atsion, like other Pine Barrons towns, eventually will only be a footnote in local history.