LAWNSIDE — For nearly 200 years, the historic Peter Mott House — believed to have once served as a stop on the Underground Railroad — has managed to withstand the encroachment of the outside world.
In the 1950s, construction of the New Jersey Turnpike brought a heavily used trafficway within just a few hundred feet of the home. There was the time, in the 1980s, when a developer bought up a patch of surrounding land with plans to raze the structure and build housing units. And the arrival of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020 left the home shuttered for three years — and its future temporarily uncertain.
Now, the New Jersey Turnpike Authority plans to soon begin work on a $2 billion project to expand the turnpike, which would bring the highway — currently located just 220 feet from the Mott House — 12 feet closer to the building.
The plans have prompted a wave of pushback from a small but vocal group of Lawnside residents, who fear that vibrations from the construction could damage the nearly two-century-old structure and that already “deafening” traffic noise in the area could become unbearable.
Already, says Linda Shockley, the longtime president of the Lawnside Historical Society, which owns and maintains the Mott House, it can be difficult for visitors to hear over the hum of the turnpike. The back of the house, which boasts a quaint patio, is essentially unusable without the use of microphones, she said — and this is to say nothing of the potential environmental and safety implications of bringing a heavily traversed highway even closer to a residential area.
The expansion, which also includes plans to widen nearby Warwick Road, has become — in Shockley’s words — “like a sword of Damocles hanging over us.”
“What are you doing and when are you going to do it?” Shockley said. “And what say do we have over how it’s done?”
The construction arrives at a seminal moment for the historic borough, which this year is celebrating the 100th anniversary of its incorporation.
Originally settled by formerly enslaved people who escaped or were freed and considered the first independent, self-governing African American community north of the Mason-Dixon Line, Lawnside has long boasted a historical significance far outsizing its modest 1.4-square-mile footprint.
In the 1930s, it was home to a bustling entertainment district, drawing high-profile acts such as Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday. Three decades later, Lawnside’s school district became one of the first U.S. governmental entities to declare the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday a holiday.
No aspect of Lawnside’s history, however, has remained as vital to its identity than the Mott House, the onetime home of Peter Mott, a free Black farmer, preacher, and abolitionist, who, along with wife Elizabeth, was a conductor on the Underground Railroad.
Built around 1845, the home is Lawnside’s oldest known house and is widely believed to have been a refuge for enslaved people traveling from the South — making it a strong symbol for the community at large.
“This town has been a beacon of hope for African Americans,” said Darryl Lee Dozier, 60, a longtime Lawnside resident. “To be able to walk outside and say, ‘Harriet Tubman came through this town’ — that’s iconic, man.”
At least 18 municipalities across Salem, Gloucester, Camden, and Burlington Counties will be affected by the turnpike project, but the proximity of the Mott House — as well as a neighboring housing development — to the construction has stoked fears that it will be uniquely vulnerable. State officials say they are working closely with local leaders to ensure that any adverse effects of the project are minimal.
AECOM, the infrastructure firm handling the engineering work for the turnpike project, told The Inquirer recently that Lawnside qualifies for noise barriers to help alleviate the effects of the project, and that “vibration monitoring,” as well as inspections, would be conducted throughout the course of the project.
“Should the vibrations for any reason exceed a threshold that would cause concern, then the activities would pause and we’d figure out what’s going on,” said Matthew Rao, a project manager with AECOM.
New Jersey Assemblyman William F. Moen Jr., who grew up in the area, said he has been engaged in conversations with the New Jersey Turnpike Authority about the project since 2020 and has been cognizant of the questions raised by Shockley and others.
“I’m acutely aware of her concerns, and I think they’re valid,” he said. “This is the time to be talking about those things, and making sure, to the extent that they can be, that they’re reflected in the final plan of what’s going to happen.”
Still, many in Lawnside remain wary.
Despite meetings with officials, said Kia Jones, 60, whose home sits near the proposed turnpike expansion, residents have largely felt powerless throughout the process.
“Their whole attitude seems to be, ‘It’s a done deal — we’re just talking to you because we have to, but nothing’s going to change,’” she said.
For some in this South Jersey borough of roughly 3,000 residents, meanwhile, the expansion raises unmistakable echoes of the 1950s, when construction of the turnpike left a profound impact on the community.
At the time, America’s vast network of highways was displacing — and often targeting — Black communities across the country.
Initially, Shockley said, only six homes in Lawnside were supposed to be affected by the turnpike’s creation. But by the time it opened in November 1951, she said, 27 families had been affected.
“Some people’s houses were purchased, some houses were condemned,” Shockley said. “I’ve seen pictures of houses on flatbed trucks, being moved.”
(It was not lost on some in Lawnside, Shockley points out, that the turnpike conveniently curves around the nearby Tavistock Country Club, a private golf club founded in 1920.)
Though few in Lawnside are old enough to remember the turnpike’s arrival, many have felt the ripples.
Lorraine Pollitt, 70, a lifelong Lawnside resident, grew up hearing about her great-grandparents’ farm, which, she said, had fallen in the turnpike’s right-of-way and, as a result, had to be sold.
Seventy-five years later, Pollitt said, the expansion project feels like more of the same.
“Just taking more from us here,” she said. “It’s always something.”
For Shockley, who has served as president of the historical society since 1994, the effort to preserve and protect the Mott House has been a nearly 40-year endeavor.
She first got involved in the late 1980s, when a local developer, Mark DeFeo, received permits from the borough to raze the house in order to build a small housing development.
A group of residents organized to try to stop the home’s demolition, and Shockley — who was raised in Lawnside and had recently moved back from New York — joined the effort.
It took three years and considerable legal wrangling, but the developer eventually agreed to sell the home to the group for $1.
For its efforts, Shockley later told the New York Times, the group found itself in possession of “a decaying, vacant house … in danger of collapsing.”
In the years since, however, the historical society, buoyed by a dedicated collection of volunteers, has turned the property into a gem that has garnered national renown. The group has raised hundreds of thousands of dollars toward upgrades and repairs through grants and donations.
The house opened to the public in 2001, and, today, it offers a variety of programming, including a weeklong summer camp for middle schoolers on the history of the Underground Railroad, sitting on both the national and state registers of historical places.
In her mid-30s when she joined the effort, Shockley is now in her 70s, her hair flecked with gray. She retired in 2021 from her job at the Dow Jones News Fund, a journalism nonprofit foundation.
“Don’t tell anyone,” she joked one morning recently, from a seat inside the Mott House, “but I’m getting older.”
But while there is still work to be done, she remains dedicated to doing it — one more battle in a long string of them.
“Ask anybody who’s trying to do anything with historic buildings, or restore history or culture, and you find that, yeah, there’s always something — and there are always threats to it,” she said.
“You soldier on.”