52 Week Ancestor Challenge - Jesse Chew

I found another Bubbler was doing a weekly post for something called the "52 Week Ancestor Challenge" and, since I've been working on my family history since 1974, I just knew I had to take that challenge as well. Here is my first week's post, some four weeks later than the original challenge began. But, I will catch up.

JESSE CHEW (1738 - 1812)

Jesse Chew was my 6th great grandfather. He was born 25 November 1738 and, at the time of the Revolutionary War, was considered a Loyalist. Jesse was the 3rd great grandson of John Chew who emigrated to the America Colonies from Whalley Parish, Lancashire, England in the early 1600s to James City, Virginia. John's son John moved to Long Island where he met and married Ann Gates. Their son Richard was born on Long Island but eventually moved to Gloucester County, New Jersey where the family has remained.

There is a story told of Jesse that I have always found humorous. How much truth there is in the details depends on how accurately it was passed down through the generations, but the date of the event was recorded in the Quaker Meetinghouse records in Woodbury, NJ. On January 3, 1800, Jesse, a Methodist minister of some renown, interrupted a service of the Quakers to preach to them the errors of their ways. These peace-loving Quakers summarily removed Jesse from their service bodily and locked the doors to prevent his return.

Jesse died 26 January 1812 and is buried in the family cemetery within 100 yards of the home that he built.

The house you see in the photo is Jesse's home built in 1772 of Jersey Sandstone. It is in good condition with all original hardware in place as well as the original fireplaces. It is currently a private home, but they do occasionally rent out the carriage house on the property. This house is located 1.7 driving miles (probably closer to a mile as the crow flies) from the house where I grew up and is in the same township.

Jesse was only one of many Methodist ministers in my family, most of them on my father's side of my family.

Photo credit - This is an image of a place or building that is listed on the National Register of Historic Places in the United States of America. Its reference number is 72000797. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license

The Bakery - GBE2 #8

The bakery in this story is the Elite Bakery in Glassboro, NJ, where my mother worked for at least 11 years while I was growing up. I know she still worked there when I graduated high school and only quit because she learned she had glaucoma. It was also where I got my first job. If I were to do it now, I’d enjoy it, but at the time, I hated it. I had to wear a white uniform (a dress – no pants) and white “nurse” shoes, which to a teenage girl who was just discovering fashion of any sort was like being made to wear her grandmother’s clothes (which I actually did later in life, but that’s a different story).

Mom’s first bosses were Russell and Mary D’Amico. My image of employee/employer relationships through my parents was that of true friendship. Mom and Dad were invited to their home for dinner more than once and Mary knew she could count on Mom to fill in when needed.

Later, the D’Amicos sold the bakery to Charlie and June Johnson. Charlie had worked for Russell, so he was the perfect person to keep the business alive and the dream the D’Amicos had envisioned alive.

Mom would always bring donuts home from work when she was done her night shift and we would freeze the cream donuts to keep them fresh. Dad and I would eat them right out of the freezer, they were that good. The butter-crumb cake was a type of coffee cake that was about the diameter of a medium pizza and less than an inch thick. It was topped with a streusel-like topping and in the middle of the cake was a buttery, moist layer that was my favorite part. Charlie was the one we counted on to create my son’s birthday cake for his 3^rd birthday. None of the ones in the books he had on display really seemed suitable, so Charlie created one based on my explanation of an airport runway with a jet taking off at the end because Paul loved to fly so much. He loved that cake! (He’s 30 now and still loves flying.)

I think I was in Junior high school when we learned that Russell D’Amico had committed suicide. Apparently, he had invested heavily in a scheme that promised great returns and he had talked many of his friends into investing as well. When he learned that it was all a sham, he couldn’t live with the thought that he had convinced his friends to lose their money. Mom went to Mary’s side immediately.

Years later, Charlie fell from a ladder in the warehouse and had serious head damage. He tried to continue the business, but it became more and more difficult, so he eventually sold out to a larger bakery enterprise called Liscio's.

Gone were the days of the butter-cream filled donuts coated with powdered sugar, cinnamon buns heavily topped with raisins (aka sticky buns), “torpedo” rolls (I didn’t like these, but my parents LOVED them – very hard crusts and very pointy ends, the entire roll was maybe 6” in length), plenty of Italian bread with crispy crusts (you rarely find that today), the éclairs that my father loved so much and the delectable butter-crumb cake that I loved. Gone are the breads that were donated to St. Bridget's and the nuns that hadn't sold the day before.

I recently learned that the new owners sold out to a construction company who is helping the city of Glassboro completely rebuild the downtown area to tie it in to the growing Rowan University. Glassboro has long been a college town, but there was a complete disconnect between downtown and campus. It was two different worlds. Many of the old buildings and homes, including St. Bridget’s school across from the bakery, are gone to make way for an almost mall-like business center with large promenades and direct access to campus, which had not existed before, as well as extensive student housing.

Although the city had deteriorated quite a bit over the years, there were certain staples that held things together. Elite Bakery was one of them.  It’s a piece of my childhood that no longer exists. My parents are gone, the glass plant (which is how Glassboro got its name) where Dad worked is gone and now the bakery is gone. Things maybe improving economically in that small college city, but some things are lost forever.

Amazingly, there is a bakery just over the county line built with the same design as Elite’s building design. The only thing different is the name. I think I’m going to have to check them out.