CHAPTER TWO; RICHARD THOMAS BARRINGTON & SONS (updated version)

CHAPTER TWO:  RICHARD THOMAS BARRINGTON & SONS

 

SPOILER ALERT:  IF YOU ARE OF A SENSITIVE DISPOSITION YOU MAY WANT TO AVOID THIS CHAPTER.   IT’S A FUNNY STORY ABOUT UNCLE DICK’S NAME.

My Dad’s brother is Richard Thomas Barrington.  He started the tradition of naming his boys after himself.  So there are currently three generations of Richard Thomas Barrington walking throughout Camden County.  

As with the “John Jacobs” we had to differentiate the ‘Richards’ from one another.   Well, we always called my Dad’s brother Uncle Dick.   His son was known as Cousin Dicky.   Now, this was well and good, until Cousin Dicky had a child named after him.  So, Uncle Dick stayed the same, and it became Big Dick and Little Dick Barrington.   Some of you can probably see the problem in this. 

Little Dick swore he wasn’t going to name his son Richard, because no man wants to be known as the Littlest Dick in town.  The Richard Thomas Barrington line swung Episcopalian, and there was little doubt that Little Dicks son Stephen would enter the ministry.  So his son, the soon-to-be Right Reverend Stephen H. Barrington became known as His Lordship, No Dick of Dentdale!  Now, it was always said with a smile, and never was it meant as anything but a joke… but, I’m told Stephen’s adolescence and formative years over at Denton Heights High were a little rougher then they should have been.

There were many episodes of family discord in the Barrington clan.  My brother William Thomas II* would just stop speaking to one or the other of us!     Anyway, during these epic episodes of adult-sized “I’m-not-touching-you” there would be a civic or family event that demanded everyone’s presence.   For the most part, the Barringtons could be depended upon to behave in a manner that could loosely be called civilized.    Surprisingly (or maybe not surprisingly) it was William’s daughter-in-law April who would instigate World War III.    

April Barrington would be sitting there with her husband Billy Barrington (W.T.B.II) and someplace between the second and third gin and tonic (her second, his third), and in something more commonly known as a stage whisper (a whisper that is so loud it can be heard by the entire audience) ask her cousin The Right Reverend Stephen if being the first No Dick in the family was helpful to his ministry.

I suppose it will come as no surprise when I tell you that The Right Reverend Stephen Barrington responded to his nickname by producing eight children of his own!  I’m sure Freud would have a field day with that little tidbit of information.   Shortly after his youngest child’s college graduation Stephen presented the world with a lifestyle choice related to that ill-advised appellation.  It was a complete surprise to everyone when he lived up to his name by having a sex change on his 60^th birthday.   He’s now known as The Right Reverend Stephanie Barrington, but to us he’ll always be No Dick!       

In preparation of his contributions to The Dentdale Diaries Reverend Stephen/Stephanie was doing a little Google work, and decided to investigate the family tree.  So he types in Big Dick Barrington, and of course, gets some surprising results in the personal sections of Craigslist!  Worse than that, is that he recognized some of the advertisers, and now, can no longer patronize some of the finer establishments along Clements Bridge Road.

 

 

*Please note that William Thomas is not to be confused with my son Toot who is Thomas William. William Thomas II is the son of my brother William Thomas I and William Thomas II is my son Thomas William’s cousin.  Do you see why I called the kid ‘The Other One…’?

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER ONE: John Jacob Barrington & Sons

CHAPTER ONE:  John Jacob Barrington & Sons

 

“I thought that everyone in Dentdale hated me.

Then I realized it was worse than that:

No one in Dentdale knew that I existed!”

-Frisky Barrington

 

Anonymous Dent (the author of Dentdale Diaries) tells me (John Jacob Barrington III – a.k.a. Jake Barrington) that my story is to be the first chapter in The Dentdale Diaries.   It’s not because my story or the story of the Barrington family is all that interesting.  God knows (and many would agree) that my stories aren’t all that gripping, or noteworthy.  Anybody who has spent time at ‘The Brass Rail’, has heard my stories, and the stories of my family, a million times.

History is written by the victors!   The Barrington’s story is not going to be told by the victors.  Our story is going to be told by the survivors.  I do believe that my right-of-survivorship allows me a certain editorial leeway!  In this regard I would like to forget the more infamous stories that have been circulated over the years (sometimes by me); and I’d certainly like to correct some of the stories that kind of got out-of-hand (those stories were almost always circulated by me).

I find that pleading senility can be quite useful, and some people who are familiar with the Barrington family history might detect that (in my dotage) I’ve scrambled certain details which led to me ‘correcting’ the infamous stories (to favor the Barringtons); and omit the stories that got out-of-hand.  My omissions will certainly be corrected by contributions from other members of the Barrington clan, and I won’t refute them (publicly).  I’ll do the Irish thing, and keep my resentments to myself, until some public event where (with just a little lubrication) I’ll be sure to make my opinion known!

In looking back over my life, I like to think that “I wasn’t as stupid as I acted!”  Unfortunately, there are still too many living witnesses of my life who would politely, but firmly disagree!  When the Barrington men ‘get-their-stupid-hats-on’, its best just to step out of the way, and let the ‘stupid’ happen!  A moment of reflection, a moment of thought, or moment of hesitation is a moment lost; and a ‘moment lost’ is a moment wasted!  Waste not, want not; shoot first, ask questions later; better to ask forgiveness than permission; could very well be the Barrington motto!

The residents of Dentdale have all experienced the same events.   But rarely, will you find two of us who experienced, or speak of those events using the same words or attitudes.   Our sense of community is a heartfelt thing.  Our sense of community doesn’t depend upon mutual agreement of the details or wording.   Gosh, if we waited for everyone to agree, we’d still be waiting to build Woodland or Avon School, or add on to the Firehouse, or build the new Boro Hall.

The real, true story of Dentdale, Denton Heights, Lawndale, and Dentonfield can’t be told in words.   Join us for our Fourth of July Parades, our High School Homecoming events (Heights vs. Dentonfield), or barbecue & blues on East Evesham Road in Dentlawn, and you’ll know what our community is all about, and you’ll know who we are!

 

 

 

“The citizens of Dentdale have many short stories to tell!

They’re just incapable of telling a short story, in a short time period!”

-Anonymous Dent

 

 

Jake Barrington continues:

Not everyone knows that many of the streets in Dentdale are named after the first residents on that street:

·         Wolf & Coffee Wilmont

·         Toby & Suzy Mercer

·         Michael Hutchinson

·         Rusty & Suzy Moore

·         Pete & Minnie Glosster (used to be Gloucester – long story)

These are just a few people who can claim a little ancestral pride, and whose families have lent their names to the streets, boulevards, pikes, and roads of Dentdale.

Dentdale existed long before the first train tracks were laid. It was a bunch of farms that connected to the world via Clements Bridge Road, and Gloucester Pike.  The train, and the people who stepped off the train to make Dentdale their home, determined the future of Dentdale.  If you look at a map of Dentdale, you’ll see three major sections (well four really).  We have Old Dentdale, then The Gardens of Dentdale, and then Stoneybrook Park.   The Tavistock section of Dentdale became isolated when I-295 ripped out the business center of the town (around 1958).  ‘Buddy’ Tavistock uses the Dentonfield Post Office because Buddy Tavistock owned some property over there (hence the road name) and he saw that associating that property as ‘Dentonfield adjacent’ would add some cache to the value of that property. It doesn’t take a Ph.D from Rutgers to know that this cache might lead to a few more dollars in Buddy’s denim pockets.  Who says farmers can’t be smart?  

Anyway, Tavistock does have some of the fancier homes, but it doesn’t really get fancy until you start moving up the hill.  Most of that section is taken up by Avon School, Kent Garden (now called Village at Dentonfield (la-ti-friggin-da) Apartments, and some nice homes that were mostly built in the 60’s.

The initial grid-work layout of Old Dentdale comes from William Penn’s revolutionary layout of nearby Philadelphia.  Most of the original streets had numbers or letters as their names.   Second, Third, Fourth, and Fifth Avenues haven’t had a name change because there really weren’t large numbers of houses on those streets, and the people who owned the land that faced those streets, generally built their first house on the street that bore their name.

Barrington Avenue parallels the train tracks. It was originally named West Atlantic Avenue, and it became known as Barrington Avenue when my Grandfather (John Jacob Barrington) started buying land on West Atlantic Avenue.  He had a decided preference for West Atlantic Avenue, and purchased nothing along East Atlantic Avenue.  That’s kind of a Barrington-family tradition: if there’s a ‘right-side’ and a ‘wrong-side’ of the tracks, we’ll generally pick the ‘wrong-side’.   Now, don’t get me wrong…. Dentdale isn’t the wrong side of the tracks.   It’s just that the land on the side of the tracks closer to Dentonfield was a little more valuable, because of its proximity to Dentonfield.   On the other hand, Old John Jacob (as he was known) bought up plenty of land on the other side of the tracks (because it was cheaper, and came in larger parcels), and for a time, the Barrington’s lived quite nicely off those investments.

Both sides of the train tracks boast what were originally just access roads for the builders of the trains.   Both of the paralleling streets were named Atlantic Avenue because they were supposed to follow the trains all the way through from Camden to Atlantic City.  Well, that didn’t quite happen.  The White Horse Pike became the main thoroughfare, and both Atlantic Avenues have a terminus quite short of Atlantic City.

West Atlantic terminates in Dentdale.   It pretty much runs from Audubon through Dentdale, but it was never the best road to travel on.   As many Denton Heights, and Dentdale residents will tell you, trying to cross Kings Highway at the overpass on West Atlantic was/is a crapshoot.  Most people know that the best route is to shoot over to East Atlantic and zoom under the Kings Highway overpass to achieve a longer life, and reach your destination.  On the maps, you’ll see West Atlantic gets renamed just under the 295 overpass.   That’s where Barrington Avenue (officially) begins and ends. 

West Atlantic Avenue or Barrington Avenue – Tomato/tomatoe; for nearly a hundred years everyone knew what you were talking about when you called it either name!

 

 

My great-grandfather: John Jacob Barrington was kind of a scary Irish man, whose parents came to the United States to escape the potato famine (an Gorta Mór 1845 – 1852).  

This quote, is the best description I’ve ever read of John Jacob’s disposition:

 “Irish Alzheimer’s:  They forget everything except a grudge”

Irish Alzheimers seems to have been encoded in the Irish DNA.   This DNA code is a result of the tragic history of the Irish at the hands of the English, and the horrible working conditions that Irish immigrants faced when coming to the United States.   Irish immigrants were often treated much worse than African American slaves.   Slaves were property, and as property they had value.  Irish workers only value was their stubbornness, and their ability to dig ditches for canals, lay track for the railroads, and sew in the sweatshops of Boston, New York, Buffalo, Chicago, and Philadelphia.

John Jacob never forgot the stories that his parents told him.  It seems that every Irish inheritance, and every Irish Will & Testament, includes a bequeathal of guilt that can be measured in tonnage, not ounces!  John Jacob’s parents seemed particularly generous in their bequeats to John Jacob.  In this regard John Jacob was quite generous to his decedents and he fully endowed the Barrington Family Guilt and Trust company with a treasury that cannot be depleted.  Barrington women are particularly adept at cashing in that blank check of guilt, to share with their sons, daughters, or anyone who might be behaving in fashion that could be called merry! 

 

Although Dylan Thomas is actually Welsh, the Irish have given him ‘honorary citizenship’ for his correct depiction of the Irish attitude about LIFE, not just DEATH:

 

Do not go gentle into that good night

Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

From The Poems of Dylan Thomas, published by New Directions. Copyright © 1952, 1953 Dylan Thomas. Copyright © 1937, 1945, 1955, 1962, 1966, 1967 the Trustees for the Copyrights of Dylan Thomas. Copyright © 1938, 1939, 1943, 1946, 1971 New Directions Publishing Corp.

 

 

Well, John Jacob didn’t just ‘Rage, rage against the dying of the light”!  Witnesses have stated that he would rage just about anything.   His Catholic school training taught him to be alert about everything, and wary of everyone!  Nothing escaped his notice!  It was very much like John Jacob to remember that an infant’s shoelace was untied at the child’s Christening.  He wouldn’t mention it at the time, but he’d deposit that memory in the Barrington Guilt and Trust, to be brought out at some future (more useful) and generally more embarrassing moment!

 

Irish people seem to love guilt.  They seem to trade guilt the way folks are trading Bitcoins, or solid cash.   Generally, Irish guilt is hoarded, saved, and dearly treasured.   If you check their wallets and purses, you’ll find some old and crinkled piece of guilt, just waiting for some public occasion such as a family reunion, wedding, or the (best ever) funeral, to pay for their supper with some long ago slight, indignation, or perceived wronging that has been alchemized into guilt/gelt/gold!

 

On the other hand John Jacob was generally regarded as Camden’s answer to Mark Twain. He was very funny guy, and like any salesman he had four or five ‘stock’ jokes that are still told at the various Barrington family functions.   His favorite joke:

“Mick and Paddy were walking home after a night on the beer when a severed head rolled along the ground.
Mick picked it up to his face and said to Paddy 'Jez, that look like Sean…

 to which Paddy replied 'No Sean was taller than that”

 

The Barrington family held humor and literacy, in equally high regard. There was no ceremony so solemn in which one or another of the Barringtons, did not, could not, or would not, find the humor! 

 

 

“A Barrington funeral is (quite frankly) an event to be experienced.

I have never laughed so hard,

and cried so deeply within the space of a few hours.”

-         Gigi Wayne

 

 

 

The Dentdale library was informally started with volumes borrowed from the Collingswood home(s) of John Jacobs and his wife Emiline.  While sarcasm is the wit of fools, John Jacob used sarcasm in such a sly way that most people never even knew they were being insulted. Emiline had a thirst for knowledge, and her progressive Quaker roots allowed her to explore writers outside of the Imprimatur that limited John Jacob’s reading material.  The Barringtons (one and all) were (and still are) well read. John Jacob was influenced by many of the progressive writers of the day, and was a discreet supporter of the abolitionists who funded the purchase of the land for what is now known as Dentlawn.

John Jacob and Emiline Barrington quickly befriended Walt Whitman when he moved to Camden in 1873.   Like Walt Whitman, the Barrington’s are buried in Camden’s Harleigh Cemetery.  Their (rather large) plot is marked by a tall granite obelisk.  Although Whitman is the most well-known resident of Harleigh, the Barrington’s take pride (as they would) in the fact that “they got there first”.   In fact, John Jacob removed his parents from their original grave to be placed near the obelisk, because he found that section of Harleigh offered a more felicitous view of the Barrington land holdings.

Walt Whitman once wrote:

"Camden was originally an accident—but I shall never be sorry.

I was left over in Camden.

It has brought me blessed returns…”

 

John Jacob Barrington and his wife Emiline C. Smith-Barrington felt the same way about the street that became known as Barrington Avenue:

”It was, an accidental naming that brought many blessed returns.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

To understand the rest of my Dentdale stories you’ll need to know who ‘The Barrington’s are!

 

For your edification and enjoyment, I present the children of John Jacob Barrington:

Richard Thomas Barrington I (Dick),

John Jacob Barrington II,

William Thomas (Willie),

And Emiline (Emma) Barrington

As I said Granddad was, is, and always will be known as John Jacob.  John Jacob was always called John Jacob, well, actually he was known as Mr. Barrington (in reference to the long running Barrington Avenue).  The Barrington homes were actually in Camden, Gloucester, and then Collingswood.

 

John Jacob Barrington II (My Dad – Johnny) is his son. 

 

I’m John Jacob Barrington III (Jake) Most people call me Jake.  I married Carol Shreve who is the daughter of Momma Goose (Helen) and VFW (Victor Francis William) Shreve.  Kind of funny how Dentdale’s VFW hall ended up on land donated by a guy named Victor Francis William Shreve (V.F.W. Shreve)….. But that’s a story for later on.

My son is John Jacob Barrington IV (Frisky) with his brother being named Thomas William Barrington (Toot).

John Jacob IV is known as Frisky because Carol described her pregnancy as having a hyper-active bull terrier in her womb!

Thomas William is known by the nickname of ‘Toot’. Not because of any affection for powdery substances but because I kept forgetting his name.  “Toot” stands for ‘The Other One’:

T…he

O…ther

O…ne

We added the last ‘T’ just for fun!

I would live to regret that moniker.  As has been mentioned, Irish people might forgive (just might) but they don’t forget.  I called the kid Toot, because he really was my favorite son.

I didn’t want my kids to grow up the way I did (who amongst hasn’t said that)! My Dad made it quite clear that I was not his favorite.  Although I carried his name, it was my brother Richard Thomas Barrington who benefited from my Dad’s affections.  I gave Frisky my name, and Toot received my time!  I thought that this was a fairly good division of what little wealth I could offer.   Apparently, I failed to communicate this to Toot, or Toot just failed to realize how devoted I was to him.   More likely, Toot is just a bottomless pit of emotional needs that I, nor anyone else, can fill.   I don’t say that with acrimony – it just seems to be the case.   Toot and I haven’t talked in more than twenty years.  Frisky did his best to keep in touch with Toot, but that ended about fifteen years ago.  My wife (Carol) has always been the bridge between me and the boys and I’ll confess that without her, the boys probably would have stopped talking to me when they reached 18.

 

 

 

 

Carol’s sister Minerva (Minnie) married Jupiter (Pete) Glosster (used to be Gloucester).  Pete and I have been friends for decades.   He got that weird name (Jupiter) because his Mom was kind of interested in Greek Gods.   Now, for many years everyone in town called him Ju Glosster.  Well, sometime after Fiddler on the Roof came out, we realized that calling out “Hey Jew” was not the most politically correct thing to be doing, so after a time, we adjusted and Ju, slowly became Pete!

 

 

John Jacob & Emiline Barrington’s children settled in Dentdale by happenstance, not great, or grand design. 

They believe (d) that blood was thicker than water (and possibly even whisky) and they relied upon their family bonds and the good sensibilities of their fellow citizens, to raise the children, and continue the legacy that John Jacob and Emiline had started in Camden.  

The Barrington’s settled in Dentdale through the course of simple events, and smart decision making.  They stayed in Dentdale because they (correctly) believed Dentdale brought them many blessed returns.