Wreckage of a Dream

The rickety, hotel-like old building had been a landmark on the rolling New Jersey countryside, just 50 miles from Manhattan, for more than a century. One of its walls had fallen out, its broad porches sagged, its faded green shutters seemed ready to disintegrate. Last week when an auctioneer called for bids on it to satisfy a court order, only one voice was raised. The buyer--one Carl After of Brooklyn--got the whole sprawling ruin and a handsome set of ghosts for only $500.

It was an almost unnoticed demonstration of the perishability of men's dreams. The building had been put up as a "phalanstery" or communal living quarters for the North American Phalanx--one of the most successful of all the Socialist colonies which bloomed across the U.S. in the 19th Century. Never as well known as New England's famed Brook Farm, the Phalanx had lasted twice as long and prospered wonderfully. In its heyday, Horace Greeley, Charles Dana and Albert Brisbane (father of the late Arthur Brisbane) were all its ardent advocates.

Associative Living. The Phalanx association was started in 1843 by ten hardy families, followers of the French visionary Charles Fourier, who believed that the ills and harsh competitions of the world could be ended by "associative living." It began as a farming venture on 673 acres of rich land. As its population increased (top membership: 112 men, women & children), a gristmill and a smithy were added and the association bought a part interest in two steamboats to get their excess goods and produce to New York. They put the first packaged "name brand" cereals on the market and their stamped trademark, N.A.P., came to stand for highest quality.

Life in the big, three-story phalanstery was rigorous and simple, but intellectually stimulating. Children received "progressive" education. Women were accorded the same rights and wages as men, wore bloomers (which shocked citizens of nearby Red Bank) and did honorable work in the fields. Members gathered almost nightly for plays, lectures, concerts and literary discussion. Religious tolerance and the 30-hour week were integral parts of the communal life.

Pay was low--from 6 to 10-c- an hour. But living, including laundry, meals and room rent ran to no more than $2 a week. The main dining room offered a varied bill of fare: meat cost 2-c- a serving, pie 2-c-, coffee 1/2-c- a cup. Clothing was made on the farm, and a system of old-age pensions and insurance was set up.

Fire. Nevertheless, many a member began itching to compete again in the outer world, where wages were rising with a new period of prosperity. In 1854 a fire burned down the farm's flour mill and some other buildings. Though the loss involved only $9,000 (the farm was then worth $80,000), the members voted to disband. The farm was sold in parcels, the stockholders paid off, and the members went their own individual ways. The buildings slowly decayed.

Last week the new owner of the moldering phalanstery did not know quite what to do with his acquisition. He could always wreck it for the lumber. But he had an idea that it might become a tourist attraction: it seemed like the kind of thing a vacationing capitalist might spend two bits to inspect.

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