Among the ancient Teutonic peoples, one of the most cherished annual observances was the ceremonial welcome to the rising sun. They believed the sun to be the source of all life, and each year they celebrated its return with music, feasting, sacrifices, and prayers for a prosperous season. Although Christianity gradually replaced these pagan traditions, the custom of welcoming spring with song endured.
For many years, Paterson’s German singing societies continued this tradition by gathering before dawn on the first fair Sunday in May atop Garret Rock, the prominent Watchung Mountain overlook that rises above the City of Silk. Long before sunrise, members climbed the rugged trail to the summit, where they greeted the first rays of the sun with choral performances. When the concert concluded, many remained on the mountain for the rest of the day, enjoying its unspoiled beauty. The annual celebration attracted thousands of residents from Paterson and neighboring communities, making it one of the city’s most anticipated springtime events.
On May 2, 1880, one of the most beautiful spring mornings imaginable dawned over Garret Mountain. As birds began to sing and the first musical selections echoed across the mountaintop, the peaceful celebration was shattered by the sound of a gunshot. Within moments, the festive gathering erupted into one of the most violent public disturbances in Paterson’s history.
William Dalzell leased a small tract of land adjacent to the celebration grounds. Through years of hard labor, he had transformed the rocky soil into productive farmland, growing potatoes that represented a significant investment of time and effort. In previous years, crowds attending the spring festival had trampled his crops, and Dalzell was determined that it would not happen again.
When several festival-goers crossed his field, Dalzell’s son, Robert, confronted a young man named John Joseph Van Houten. The confrontation quickly escalated from heated words to a physical fight. As had often happened in earlier disputes involving the Dalzell family, a large crowd gathered to witness the altercation.
William Dalzell rushed to his nearby farmhouse, retrieved a shotgun, and returned to the scene. Pointing the weapon toward the combatants, he fired. John Joseph Van Houten was struck in the abdomen and collapsed. Despite immediate attempts to aid him, he died within minutes.
Realizing the gravity of what had occurred, Dalzell fled to his barn as an enraged crowd pursued him.
The peaceful celebration instantly transformed into an angry mob determined to seize Dalzell and exact immediate revenge. From a window in the barn, Dalzell fired another shot, slightly wounding a young girl. The additional gunfire only intensified the crowd’s fury.
The mob soon set fire to the barn. As flames engulfed the building, Dalzell escaped and reached his nearby farmhouse. From there, he fired again, causing additional minor injuries. Thousands of rocks were hurled at the house, shattering every window and battering the structure. In the confusion, many participants were struck by stones intended for others.
When portions of the farmhouse caught fire, Dalzell faced another desperate escape. Coroner William S. Hurd attempted to calm the crowd with an impassioned appeal for restraint while Paterson police officers rushed Dalzell from the burning house to the nearby home of John Ferguson.
The mob, however, refused to disperse. Some openly declared that Paterson had witnessed too many unpunished killings and insisted that this time justice would be carried out by hanging Dalzell themselves. Police Sergeant John McBride seized Dalzell’s shotgun and, together with Chief of Police Graul and other officers, attempted to protect the prisoner. The crowd continued to bombard the house with stones, injuring nearly everyone inside except Dalzell himself.
By this time, nearly 10,000 people had gathered on Garret Mountain, many having rushed from Paterson after church bells sounded the alarm that an extraordinary event was unfolding.
Officials organized another escape, moving Dalzell to the nearby home of John McGuckin. Sheriff Van Voorhis, Mayor Joseph R. Graham, and City Counsel John W. Griggs—who would later become Governor of New Jersey and Attorney General of the United States—all addressed the crowd, urging calm. Their appeals had little effect.
Recognizing the growing danger, Sergeant McBride suggested summoning Father William McNulty, the respected dean of St. John’s Catholic Church. His arrival would prove decisive.
Father McNulty calmly took Dalzell by the arm and, in full view of the hostile crowd, escorted him to a waiting hack. His remarkable display of courage momentarily stunned the mob. Because Father McNulty was one of Paterson’s most respected religious leaders—and because Dalzell was a prominent Orangeman—the crowd hesitated.
The apparent journey, however, was a clever deception. At the rear of the property, Father McNulty and Dalzell quietly transferred to another carriage while the first hack continued on as a decoy. By the time the crowd discovered the ruse, Dalzell was safely en route to Caldwell in Essex County rather than the Passaic County Jail, which authorities feared could not withstand another assault.
With their quarry beyond reach, the mob gradually dispersed, bringing an end to one of the most dramatic days in Paterson’s history.
The Military Response
Paterson had recently organized a volunteer militia known as the Paterson Light Guard, but the unit had not yet been formally mustered into state service. Although its members possessed modern rifles, their ammunition remained stored in New York and was unavailable. Officials concluded that sending an armed company without ammunition would only invite ridicule and accomplish little against a crowd of thousands.
Meanwhile, Sheriff Van Voorhis telegraphed Governor George B. McClellan for assistance. Brigadier General William Plume quickly assembled the Fourth Regiment, and a special train stood ready in Jersey City. Before it departed, however, word arrived that the disturbance had subsided, and the troops were never deployed.
The Trials
Passaic County Court President Jonathan Dixon strongly condemned the lawlessness displayed on Garret Mountain. In his charge to the grand jury, he instructed that William Dalzell be indicted and further argued that anyone present who had failed to actively support law enforcement should also face prosecution.
The grand jury indicted Dalzell, although only on the lesser charge of manslaughter rather than murder, along with numerous alleged participants in the riot.
Dalzell retained the distinguished attorney Socrates Tuttle, who successfully argued that an impartial jury could not be selected in Passaic County. The court granted a change of venue, and a jury was drawn from Bergen County. Despite widespread expectations of a conviction, the jury acquitted Dalzell. He returned to Paterson and lived peacefully for many years afterward.
The prosecutions of the alleged rioters met a different fate. Although many had participated in arson, assaults, and the stone-throwing attacks, prosecutors were unable to secure reliable testimony. Few witnesses were willing to incriminate themselves or their neighbors, and police officers found it impossible to identify individual offenders amid the confusion. One prevailing sentiment echoed throughout the courthouse: “If Dalzell was acquitted, why should the others be convicted?”
As a result, nearly all of the remaining indictments failed, and one of the largest riots in nineteenth-century Paterson concluded with remarkably few legal consequences.
Today, the Garret Mountain Riot of 1880 stands as one of the most dramatic episodes in Paterson’s history—a tragic collision of community celebration, private property rights, mob justice, and the struggle to uphold the rule of law.