The Dutch Girl in Chinatown

Thoughts on Trenton, pt. 1

Roman Polanski, the famous, and infamous, made a movie called Chinatown. The location is 1937 Los Angeles. It is a complex plot of a movie, with some of Hollywood’s best actors: Jack Nicholson, Faye Dunaway and John Huston. For those too young to remember, Huston directed a few of the great films, like The Maltese Falcon. I respect Huston’s work, so I keep a bas-relief sculpture of him on my desk. I won that sculpture when I attended a fund raiser that Angelica Huston organized for a film school, named after her father.

The fund raiser was a low key event attended by many an Irish. I am 1% Irish, nonetheless, that 1% endears me to them. More than that, I love Huston. His work, that is. I keep his image close by so that when I work on my videos, his eyes, with that directness only a master craftsman can produce, discipline me.

The sculpture was created by Angelica’s late husband, sculptor Robert Graham. It’s a bronze disc, as you can see. Huston stares at me daily.

In Chinatown, Huston plays a SOB character, Noah Cross, who is a stand-in for William Mulholland. Mulholland was the hub of the wheel during the water wars in Los Angles. Polanski was the perfect director for this film. Who else can direct a film about the dark side of a city, other than an individual with his own darkness?

Did I tell you that Los Angeles is quite the corrupt city? From the get-go, beginning with the Mexican-American wars of the 19th century, Los Angeles filled up with movers and shaker gringos, whose politics are mimicked by the same bunch that remains at the heart of the city. Lately, we found out that many a politician in Los Angeles is a racist. They always were. During the Civil War, a contingent of Los Angeles power brokers went off to fight as Confederates, not Yankees. They were, alas, true Democrats. They remain so.

Robert Towne, who wrote the screenplay did a damn fine job of pulling all these elements into the plot. Nonetheless, it is the ending of the movie that no one forgets. Jake Gittes, the main male character, sees his sweetheart killed in Chinatown. He is in shock, and anguish, over her death. His friend tells him to , “…forget it Jake, it’s Chinatown.” Which means that nothing good happens in 1937 Chinatown. So let it go.

Though Chinatown was not known as a genteel location, today, it is full of eateries and shops, and one can expect to be relatively safe whilst walking its streets. Chinatown has come a long way. Los Angeles has not. Except to grow bigger, and more expensive. And more unruly, and violent, with tent city sidewalks ignored by city people, because no one wants to argue with the homeless advocates who make money on the problem.

Why do I bring up Chinatown when my problem is in Trenton?

Fifteen years ago, I bought a house in Trenton, NJ, which we can say is much like the Chinatown of Los Angeles 85 years ago. Trenton is owned and operated by corrupt politicians. Of course slavery isn’t a thing in 2023, but lowering standards is. To be fair, there are those in Trenton that attempt to bring the city up to speed in the modern world, however, as a city inspector once said to me, Those who are financially stable, with good credit, do not choose to live in Trenton.

Well, that speaks volumes. Therefore, what was I doing in Trenton? I wanted an old house I could afford. So I bought the Dutch Girl, built in 1910, for a third of what I would have paid for her if she were an Angeleno girl. That was my perspective back then in 2005. Since then, most of New Jersey has caught up with Los Angeles in the price of homes. Whilst the average home in New Jersey sells for about the same price as they do in Los Angeles, which is about $800,000,  in Trenton, the average is more like $300,000. In Trenton, you can buy a mansion for $500k. Which makes it a good buy. You can also find a dusty old fixer for $89,000. Also a good buy.

Why don’t more people buy in Trenton? They are afraid of living in a city with so much violence.

Fear is a nasty business. And then, there’s the impossible job of trying to keep a population that is full of n’er do wells, under control. How did that happen? That Trenton, the capital city, should have more than its share of folks who are violent?

We have to look back, to mayor Palmer, who was at the helm for 20 years. His claim to fame is that he invited these lost souls to live in Trenton. The story that was told to me is this: that he relieved a rich city of its poor and downtrodden, so that Trenton could get money, and population. Princeton, the rich city in this story, could be rid of its welfare class.

I believe that is what is referred to as hypocrisy, when the rich liberals decide it is better to relieve themselves of the poor instead of giving them a leg up?

Trenton needed the middle class to come back to the city. Not folks on Section 8.

In 2005, when I lived in New Jersey, I became acquainted with a group of people in Trenton who wanted to improve the city. It was a heady time, with new faces and great ambitions. I decided to involve myself in this effort to improve Trenton. After all, as a historian, I was well aware of the history of the city. This is the place where Washington turned the efforts of the War for Independence, from failure to victory. There should not be a citizen, who is born or naturalized, who does not know of the crossing of the Delaware on Christmas night, 1776. There was a blizzard blowing when Washington led his troops across that icy river. The snow kept falling all that night, which, it turns out, was a God send, because the Hessian troops, who occupied Trenton, could barely see through the snow. This inclement weather allowed the Americans to surprise the Hessians in Trenton. No one thought anyone in their right mind would try an attack on such a day.

Washington was not in his right mind. He was in a winning frame of mind. Genius and boldness is not about being safe and sane.

With Trenton returned to the American rebels, the British forces had no choice but to fight winter battles. And so they did. The second meetup with Washington and his boys took place on January 2, 1777. They met up in Trenton. The rebels held the British Regular troops off, and then Washington pulled another fast one. At midnight on January 3, he pulled his troops out of Trenton, to head northeast, towards Princeton. It was another win for the Americans, at the Battle of Princeton. And then the French entered the fray. The rest, as the old saying goes, is history.

Such a city as Trenton, with so much glorious history, it ought to be a glorious city.

It is not.

Sorry to say it, New Jersey is a blue state, which means it over protects people. My lovely home, in Trenton, has been commandeered by tenants, now turned squatters. Whilst it pains me to have to sell the Dutch Girl, the fact is I shall not return to the East coast to live. I have to let her go. However, the tenants do not want to let go of her either.

Three potential buyers have come and gone, each with contracts. The tenants remain. They desperately want to stay in the Dutch Girl that must be sold. I do not want to evict them, but I am not their mother, here to protect them from the realities of life.

It is government who plays the smothering mother. Protecting such people means, I have to evict them. The squatters will now have an eviction on their record. So how did the bureaucrats protect them? Like Jake Gittes trying to protect his Evelyn, indirectly, he causes her death. This experienced gumshoe made it worse, not better. Desperation does that. It can blind us to the reality of what needs to be done, versus the feel good solution that solves nothing, and makes things worse. Therefore, the way I keep myself sane during this ordeal, is to keep saying, “Forget it, Laura, it’s Trenton.”

Eventually, the squatters will be thrown out. Yet, I still want good things to happen in Trenton. There are so many lovely people in the city, many of them I count as my friends. It presents a temptation, to return to the Dutch Girl, and fix her up. She is a beautiful home, with gorgeous king pine floors. Her walls are plaster, not plaster board. And she has 1800 square feet of living space. And work space.

If I do go back, and fix her up, I might stay. That is what frightens me. The Dutch Girl is seductive. And there’s nothing wrong with Trenton that a few more middle class buyers cannot fix. But the middle class, who put on their masks, and stayed home to collect taxpayer money have no hutzpah to buy a house in Trenton.

Did I tell you that Trenton, at one time, was a manufacturing center? Trenton makes, the world takes, was, and still is, its motto. This small city of 92,000 souls, needs a return to its roots of being a manufacturing center, that provides those needed middle class jobs. I suggest small companies, with sustainable products, is the way to go. The big companies, like Amazon, that once gave a glance at Trenton, fear the workforce isn’t there. But for smaller companies, there is a hope. Trenton will have to cultivate more Frank Weedens, may he rest in peace, who had a vision to do just that; bring in small companies. Frank put his money where his mouth was, by developing and building a small manufacturing company. It was in meeting Frank that I became interested in living in Trenton.

I liked living in Trenton, for its history, its old houses, and the gumption of the people who do live there. And the hope for a better future brought about others, like Jim Coston, the reverend at the old Baptist church, built in the beginning of the 19 century. He ran for city council, and won. There was a nucleus of people interested in the city, who were active and gave us events, like the film festival.

Alas, too many of those individuals died, or moved away. Like I did. My mother was ill, so I returned to Los Angeles to care for her. And then the grandchildren came along. I had hope that I would return to the Dutch Girl. I did not want to abandon her. Trenton has enough homes, like those beautiful Victorian ladies, that have been left to crumble into the dust.

Trenton could use a few conservatives and libertarians to put their money where their mouth is, and, like General Washington, do something crazy and bold, like buy a house in Trenton.

My squatters will not be the death of me, but they are people who harm me. The bank will want its money whether or not I receive the rent. And the city does nothing to remove a squatter until after they have been formally evicted, which will cost me hundreds in attorney’s fees.

Trenton is my Chinatown, as Jake Gittes understood it to be, a place where the n’er do wells run things and the rest of us are better off staying away. However, Chinatown did change. Its middle class changed it by throwing out the bad element. Both rich and poor. Which makes it a testament to others; change begins when complaining stops, and bold action is taken. Like Washington did.

Be like Washington. The man, not the city.