Lost and Found: The Fascinating History of Gypsies in Ridgewood

Gypsy Pond lies down a dirt path at the end of a crooked and narrow street which splits from Rock Road. It is still and quiet, mirroring the blue of the sky and the the trees which cluster around it. A little waterfall crests over a dam and winds away under a railroad bridge; part of the Susquehanna Railway. Along with a few discarded cigarette packs and the muted roar of nearby Goffle Road, these are the only signs of human habitation.

But the pond, part of the larger Kingʼs Pond Park, has a hidden history.

In the 19th century, when it was counted part of the then-expansive Ridgewood Township (which included Glen Rock and Midland Park), the pond was surrounded by a bustling camp of Romani travelers–the Gypsies from whom the pond derives its name.

Little trace remains of them now, save in the Heritage Center of the Ridgewood LIbrary, where their curious story has been preserved.

“This shelf is all about the history of Ridgewood,” says historical librarian Peggy Norris, gesturing to a collection of carefully-tended books. “With the caveat that you canʼt believe everything you read.”

A binder of centuries-old newspaper stories transcribed by Joseph Suplicki, a Ridgewood historian with the library, contains the first mention of the Gypsies.

“A Witch In Bergen County,” trumpets the headline, taken from the Begen County Democrat in 1860. It tells the story of a “sort of gipsy fortune-teller” residing on Cherry Lane, now Lincoln Avenue. The unnamed woman is alleged to have swindled a Ridgewood resident out of a $20 gold piece after reading her palm, and spooked local residents into fearing “that she might bewitch them all... both man and beast.”

A week later, the gold piece was returned, and a nearby Romani camp was ordered by the town to disperse. The group traveled into New York and encamped for a night in Orange County before returning.

The pond around which they eventually made camp appears on old maps under the name of Morrowʼs Pond, a reference to the William Morrow & Son Woollen Factory which once stood near the site. Dams and spillways, once used by the mill, still remain. Farther up the trail, a small cluster of ruins stands in the middle of a small clearing.

“Those were apparently a skating shelter, when the country club was on Lincoln Ave. Gypsy Pond would freeze on the winter, so they had ice skating,” Suplicki said.

The story of Gypsies in Ridgewood unfolds in scattered newspaper articles over a nearly 70-year period. One town blotter in the 1878 Democrat reports several wagonloads of Romani people passing through town in a week, and states that “at Ho-Ho-Kus they traded horses with E. Rosencrantz and Dickie. Neither are proud of their bargain.” The E. Rosencrantz mentioned is Elijah Rosencrantz, owner of the Hermitage.

Some townspeople visited the camps, wherever they moved to, to have their fortunes told. Others feared them as witches.

Ian Hancock, professor of linguistics at The University of Texas at Austin and one of the worldʼs foremost contributors to the study of the Romani people, says the common image of Gypsies as a nomadic group is incorrect.

“Itʼs a misconception that we are a wandering people. Migration was forced by legislation,” Hancock said.

The Gypsies in Ridgewood were certainly shifted by the town from one place to another. Some local farmers and landowners granted them the use of their land, often to the chagrin of the local papers.

“Their horses run at large upon the highway, and are a public nuisance, annoying the farmers. The women stroll through the neighborhood, telling fortunes and picking up things that are lying around loose,” complained another Democrat article, this time from July of 1873.

The Romani are a widely-dispersed people, believed to have originated from India. The word "Gypsy" comes from the Greek word for Egyptian, owing to the European assumption in the 16th century that the Romani had come from Egypt. Often excluded or exiled by state governments, their culture spread across Europe into the 20th century.

“There are no traveling camps anymore,” Hancock said. “People have been settled since the end of World War II.”