There's More to New Jersey than the Sopranos

13 Explosion on the USS Princeton

66 There’s More to New Jersey . . . Today you can find the story everywhere, perpetuated by college professors , newspaper reporters, and food experts. It appears as gospel, for example, in the book Why We Eat What We Eat by an editor of the Wall Street Journal who should know better. So the tomato story has taken root in American history, every bit as firmly (and erroneously) as George Washington’s cutting down the cherry tree and Humphrey Bogart saying “Play it again, Sam.” It would probably be a mistake to say that all of this is simply a case of falsehood. The saga of Colonel Johnson has about it the elements of classic myth, of the godlike hero publicly risking death in the service of his people. Prometheus ascended to heaven to bring back fire; Colonel Johnson ascended the Court House steps to bring back tomatoes. (Does it mean anything that tomatoes and fire are both red?) Probably no one would have been more surprised to find that Robert Gibbon Johnson had become an American folk hero than the old colonel himself, who for all we know never touched a tomato in his life. 13 Explosion on the USS Princeton On February 28, 1844, the president of the United States, the secretary of state, and other Washington heavyweights went for what they thought would be a pleasant cruise on a brand-new U.S. Navy warship . This junket turned out to be a spectacular disaster that shocked the nation and crippled the government. At the center of the disaster was a Jerseyman, Captain Robert Stockton. Stockton was part of a proud naval tradition in New Jersey dating from the early years of the republic. Among the hard-fighting sailors our state gave to the new nation were Commodore John Barry, hero of the Revolution; Captain Richard Somers, who died fighting the Barbary Explosion on the USS Princeton 67 pirates; Commodore William Bainbridge, who commanded the USS Constitution in the War of 1812; and Captain James Lawrence, who gave the famous order “Don’t give up the ship.” Stockton came from a notable Princeton family: his grandfather was a signer of the Declaration of Independence and his father was a U.S. senator . Stockton joined the navy at age sixteen, and during his career saw combat in the War of 1812 and later fought pirates and slave traders. He was a larger-than-life figure: hot-blooded (he fought two duels), ambitious (he rose from midshipman to captain and became a player in national politics), vain (he once bought a ship and named it after himself), and wealthy (he inherited the family’s mansion, “Morven,” in Princeton). He also had a keen scientific curiosity, which set him apart from most seamen—a traditionally hidebound lot. He was especially interested in the bold, new technology of steam, a power source that for the first time enabled humans to move over the open seas without being dependent on the fickle wind. While visiting England in 1837, Stockton encountered a steam pioneer , the Swedish-born engineer John Ericsson. The Swede had built a steam tugboat driven by a screw propeller. The British navy had rejected the vessel, but Stockton was intrigued. He discussed with Ericsson the next step—building a screw-propelled warship. Once back in the United States, Stockton successfully lobbied the government to produce such a ship. He was awarded the contract to build it, with Ericsson as the designer. To no one’s surprise, Stockton was named the captain. It did not hurt that Stockton had friends in high places, including President John Tyler, of “Tippecanoe and Tyler too” fame. Stockton named the ship the U.S.S. Princeton, after his home town. When it was christened with a bottle of American whiskey on September 5, 1843, the vessel was the most advanced warship in the world, as up to date for its time as a modern stealth fighter airplane. It had powerful high-pressure engines that could move the ship along at twelve knots per hour. Unlike other steamships of that era, with their paddlewheels and smokestacks, the Princeton’s screw propeller and steam mechanism were 68 There’s More to New Jersey . . . housed invisibly below the water line. To the astonishment of spectators, the ship was able to knife effortlessly through the water without the normal billowing sails, churning paddles, or belching smokestacks. The armament of...