The office
Stepping into the New Jersey Governor’s office, I expected to see stacks of papers piled high on a well-used desk, strewn with pens and sticky notes. In other words: an office in action, a site of haptic government bureaucracy. The function of Governor Phil Murphy’s home office, however, is instead reflected by an empty, dust-covered desk and a chair that reminds me of a rococo couch preserved at the MET you are not allowed to sit on; the room is rarely used by Murphy himself but remains on display to visitors of the residence.
The office of the most powerful man in New Jersey can be found in Princeton, at “Drumthwacket,” the executive residence of the Governor. Built in 1835 but not named the official governor’s residence until 1981, Drumthwacket has long been one of the prominent “stately homes” of Princeton, as one historian describes it. Nicknamed “The People’s House,” Murphy uses the mansion for official functions and meetings, though he lives in his private home 40 miles away in Middletown. Still, Drumthwacket serves as the locus of elaborate celebrations, some of which are open to all New Jersey residents, but often by reservation only—a sought after ticket by invested members of the community and overachieving student journalists.
What is even stranger than Drumthwacket’s eerie in-habitude, is its location. Of the 45 states with an official governor’s residence, 41 of those house the residence in the state’s capital city. New Jersey, with its governor’s mansion in the quieter and wealthier suburb of Princeton rather than the city of Trenton, is one of the few states that breaks this trend.
“Only in quaint English novels does the ruling class live in country mansions with names like Drumthwacket,” David Montgomery wrote in a 1981 Daily Princetonian article, shortly before the establishment of Drumthwacket as the New Jersey Governor’s official residence. Drumthwacket was very much inhabited by such a “ruling class” until its purchase by the state in 1966. This air of grandeur imposed by the home has yet to change, with its ionic columns and 32 front-facing windows, and the estate remains removed from Trenton and a ways down the road from Princeton’s main town. If Drumthwacket aims to be a symbol of the New Jersey government and its people, what then are the implications of this geographic dislocation?
The Foyer
The foyer is decorated in a classic political fashion; an American flag to my right and the New Jersey flag to my left, depicting a shield with three plows supported by the figures of Liberty and the Roman goddess of agriculture. Next to the state flag hangs a portrait of Charles Smith Olden; governor from 1860-1863 and builder of this home in Princeton in 1835. Named Drumthwacket, this term comes from the Gaelic words “drum” and “thwacket,” together meaning “wooded hills.”
How, then, did Drumthwacket become not just the house of a governor, but the official governor’s residence? Drumthwacket replaced Morven, located at Princeton’s 55 Stockton Street, which had served as the state’s first governor’s mansion since 1945.
Describing this relocation in a 1981 Daily Princetonian article, David Montgomery ‘83 wrote, “Princeton need not feel slighted, however — Drumthwacket is just a mile south of Morven on Route 206, still comfortably within Princeton’s boundaries.” It wasn’t until 1990, though, after decades of raising money and renovations, that Governor James Florio and his family occupied Drumthwacket as the official governor’s residence.
The Dining Room
Drumthwacket’s dining room brings two rooms into one: two doors on each side, two fireplaces, and two chandeliers are placed around a long wooden table in the center of the room, large enough to seat 22 people, from two different parties. From the days of waistcoats and top hats to blazers and pantsuits, the open concept evokes socialization; a room of tea and crackers interspersed with business and politics.
When Olden built Drumthwacket, the front portion of the room was the formal parlor, and the back was his library. But Moses Taylor Pyne, class of 1887 and the next owner, expanded the dining room and added several spaces in the Elizabethan Tutor style, including a gothic library and tennis court. Pyne used his expanded home to entertain large groups of guests, emblematic of the expansion of wealth and entertainment that continues to define the governor’s residence. The Murphys have used this dining room for seven years of entertainment, meetings and policy-making. “Because it is such a beautiful home, and because it’s steeped in history, I think it leads to deeper conversations and shows the importance of the moment,” Stephanie Lagos, Chief of Staff to First Lady of New Jersey Tammy Murphy, said.
Robyn Brenner, the executive director of the Drumthwacket Foundation – a non-profit organization that manages the house and its grounds – said that governors will occasionally still stay for a weekend because of its proximity to Trenton, a 20 minute drive away. But it is this transitoriness that calls into question whether the residence is truly a place for these meaningful conversations, or simply an overnight stop and place of entertainment for the governor.
The garden
Nestled between oak trees at the end of a sweeping green lawn, the picturesque Drumthwacket sits along Stockton street, about 1.5 miles west of Nassau Hall, a thirty minute walk from campus. From within and outside of the mansion, the Italian-style gardens evoke a striking image of symmetry and order, a feeling of both tranquility and grandeur made possible by the sprawling grounds on which Drumthwacket sits. Rich with perfectly shaped bushes and intricate fountains, this almost overwhelming stateliness is managed by “master gardeners,” a group of six-ten volunteers who work year-round to maintain the gardens.
Anastasia Marty has been a master gardener since 2005, after graduating from the Rutgers Master Gardener Program. Marty cited her twenty years working in the gardens as “an honor.” That work is centered around the upkeep of the gardens in their lush and symmetrical style, maintaining them for the parties and celebrations often held in the warmer months.
The gardens of Drumthwacket, in all their symmetry and opulence, are reminiscent of the Gardens of Versaille and their representation of monarchical power over even nature itself. But Marty recalled that, in the eyes of first lady Tammy Murphy, these gardens are meant to be “people’s gardens and a people’s place.” According to Marty, the Murphys have been intensely dedicated to renovating Drumthwacket and its gardens, attempting to increase sustainability while retaining its historical grandeur. These gardens are indeed advertised as a means to make this otherwise inaccessible residence accessible, an attraction for the public to visit. At the same time, those celebrations are often by reservation or appointment, a small but crucial detail in determining just how easily accessible they really are.
Aside from the parties and conferences, Drumthwacket and its gardens play host to 4,000 school children annually. These trips are free for the schools and, according to Brenner, Drumthwacket is open to the general public one day a week. Lagos emphasized Drumthwacket as a place to host the public. “We can open the home to a lot more people because we’re not in a city, so it allows for more space to host more people,” she said.
Being in a suburb might allow Drumthwacket to host more people, but it also removes the governor’s mansion and these celebrations from the actual capital city of the state, where most of the state government occurs. This distance between the governor and the government is further compounded by the disparities between Princeton and Trenton. What are the implications of hosting meetings or events in one of the more affluent towns in New Jersey, as opposed to one of the poorest cities in America?
The gates
Before even stepping foot on to Drumthwacket’s property, I had walked a mile and a half from Princeton’s Campus along the busy Route 206 and approached the gates guarding the estate’s entrance. A police car is parked out front, an officer controlling the estate’s gates. I’ve signed up for a tour, so he lets me in after checking my ID and welcomes me to Drumthwacket.
The experience is perfectly pleasant, but the clear divide between estate and road, governor and governed, questions Drumthwacket’s “openness.” Though a place for the public and for the community, it serves in a limited capacity. The separation of governor from the public and the opulence of the estate is facilitated by Princeton’s position as a wealthy suburb: Princeton’s median household income of $165,000 is more than four times that of Trenton. “There’s a lot of history there, in the house,” Marty said, reflecting on its placement. “Was there ever anything in Trenton? No, there wasn’t.”
But proximity to Trenton still leaves Drumthwacket removed from the state’s center of power, unlike most governor’s residences. And, even within Princeton, Drumthwacket is set apart from the hustle and bustle of the main town and campus.
Mark Beissinger, a professor in Princeton’s Politics department, wrote The Revolutionary City: Urbanization and the Global Transformation of Rebellion. In his book, Bessienger outlines a theory about spatial location in regards to revolutionary processes, arguing that revolutions are more successful when they occur in proximity to governmental power centers.
Though revolution might not be imminent in New Jersey, this theory of spatial relations in politics extends to protests more generally. Beissinger said, “If you want to leverage a protest and leverage your influence over the executive power, you need to go where the executive power is located.”
Beissinger referenced the history of protest outside the White House. Typically, at least in democratic governments, he noted, centers of executive power are in close proximity to spaces where residents can gather.
“Drumthwacket is an interesting case, because not only do people not know where it is, but it is also out of town and kind of on a busy road. It would be very difficult for protesters to gather there.”
He added, “Having it so far removed does seem to accentuate, at least symbolically, a lack of attention. That doesn’t mean that the governor doesn’t pay attention to those things, but I could imagine many people interpreting it that way.” At the very least, “The distancing of his home from Trenton suggests a kind of steep divide between the private and the public.”
Trenton itself has been the site of numerous protests in recent years, with groups congregating on the streets of the city and in front of City Hall and the State House. But the rare instance of protest occurring at Drumthwacket itself took the form of only two people, suggestive of the difficulty of holding large-scale protests in such an inaccessible area. Last February, Murphy spokeswoman Natalie Hamilton said that two women protesting Israel’s military offensive in Gaza confronted the Murphys at Drumthwacket during a Lunar New Year celebration event. The women, close enough to speak to Governor Murphey, called for the governor to disband the New Jersey-Israel Commission, which fosters economic and cultural ties between the state and the country.
Thanks to renovations and reconstructions under the Murphy administration, Drumthwacket has remained a picturesque estate carrying the history of Princeton into the present state. And while the “People’s” house should be in the people’s capital, perhaps a Governor’s residence isn’t meant to be the people’s house. Under the Murphy administration the New Jersey statehouse in Trenton was also renovated. The gold glimmering dome can be seen throughout the capital. Let the Governor have his mansion and garden in Princeton. And the citizens of the state, in classic Jersey style, can stick with the gold glimmer of Trenton.