A Hard Day's Night Gone Right: Laurel Circle Makes History

Stuart Mitchner

Thanks to a gas leak, Laurel Circle now has the unique distinction of being the first and only neighborhood in the history of Princeton Township to have been evacuated – at least as far as back as Sgt. Sean Reed can remember, and he's been on the force 19 years.

There have been single family evacuations but never an instance where a whole block had to be packed into EMS ambulances and driven to Township Hall to spend the better part of the night.

At first things did not look good. PSE&G said the whole street might have to be ripped up. Were the residents in distress? Surly? Sulky? Full of complaints, fear and trembling?

"It was like a pajama party," Sgt. Reed said, confirming the opinion of most of those who were in the main Meeting Room at Township Hall from around 1:30 to 4 a.m. on Communiversity eve.

Meeting the Neighbors

Laurel Circle's better known and more accessible other half, Laurel Road, also ends in a circle, but the Laurel Circle whose residents were spirited away in the middle of the night cannot be reached by car from Laurel Road. The only access available to the police cars, fire trucks, EMS ambulances, and PSE&G trucks that arrived there in the early hours that Saturday was from Ewing Street.

Cozy and self-contained, Laurel Circle is perfectly set up for block parties. The last such event, however, was in early July 2002. Ellen Saxon had hosted it and had been talking about organizing another one to introduce the street to her new next-door neighbors, Frank and Miranda. (In keeping with the neighborly spirit of the night's events, this account will use first names when at all possible.) As it turned out, Frank and Miranda were introduced to the neighborhood in dramatic fashion when their external gas meter pipe ruptured.

There was no time to dress for the occasion. They and their children, Sara and Stefan, met the neighbors in robes, slippers, and pajamas. Though it was a chilly, drizzly night and not everyone had had time to bundle up, people were in good spirits.

A house at the bottom of the street provided a temporary refuge but they were soon, in Miranda's words, "shepherded" along the path to the circle at the end of Laurel Road, so that the EMS ambulance could pick them up, Laurel Circle being by then closed to all except emergency traffic.

According to Miranda and others, the young EMS volunteers were extremely personable and very good with the children.

At first, the seriousness of the emergency overshadowed the social element, what with fire trucks idling, red lights flashing, and police rushing from door to door to alert residents to evacuate their homes immediately. The hissing of gas escaping from the broken pipe was so loud it could be heard up and down the block. It was "a very loud and dramatic steam-engine sound," according to Ellen, who was actually the last person on the street to hear it and the last person to arrive at Township Hall.

Rhinold Ponder was watching television when he heard the sound of the gas and assumed right away that something was seriously wrong. Rhinold's wife, former Township mayor Michele Tuck-Ponder, was asleep. But not for long. Soon police cars were on the street, since Frank and Miranda had called 911. Miranda was surprised to learn, later, that her neighbor Michele had not only been mayor but had headed the administration responsible for the planning of the Township Hall whose facilities would be put to such good use that night.

Rescuing Ellen

Soon after the Laurel Circle refugees had settled into the comfortable movie-theatre-style seats in the Township Council's main Meeting Room that also doubles as a courtroom, they realized someone was missing. "Where's Ellen?" they wondered. Apparently the emergency crew had decided she must not be home since there had been no response when they rang the door bell, nor when a neighbor tried telephoning.

Marion and Doreen and Leslie were sure they had seen her that day and that her car was still in the driveway. After a consultation, Doreen informed Sgt. Reed, he notified the people on the scene, and two firemen entered Ellen's house through a dining room window.

What finally woke Ellen up was the sound of the firemen coming up her stairs, and when she opened her eyes there they were, towering in their big coats on the threshold of her bedroom. "I didn't have time to be frightened," she said. "I thought I might be dreaming. I knew it was all right, though, because as they were coming up the stairs, one of them had called out very politely, 'Mrs. Saxon' and told me there was a gas leak in the neighborhood and that I had to leave the house right away."

While the firemen turned their backs, Ellen hurried into a robe and slippers. When she arrived in the big theatre-like room at the Township Hall, her neighbors cheered. "Ellen! She's here!" "Where've you been, girl?"

It was Ellen who first spoke of it as a pajama party. "It really was like that," she said. "We reminisced and told stories and had an extremely friendly, neighborly visit. The kids were all having a great time. The police, and everyone involved, were incredibly kind and organized in looking after us and keeping us posted about the progress of the repair crews."

Children, Dogs, and Jade

They were ready for the kids at Township Hall. Sgt. Reed suggested that the children should have a mayor. Harrison Singer assumed the office and got to sit in the big chair at the conference table with his council of toddlers and preschoolers, who eventually took positions on the floor, particularly after the movies began. The new facilities available included a multi-media station with a big screen that could be lowered from the ceiling. Unfortunately none of the officers or adults present knew how to bring it down.

Ever the thoughtful host, Sgt. Reed called the department's technology expert at 2 in the morning and found out how to lower the screen. A Muppets movie was shown and snacks were available from vending machines. Asked if the kids were well behaved, Sgt. Reed had nothing but kind words for them, and for the adults – and everyone present had high praise for him.

The only exiles from the meeting room were three dogs and their three male owners, Chris, Ed, and Dirk, who had to wait out the hours in a less comfortable garage area called the sally port, which the dictionary defines as "a gate or passage in a fortified place." Sgt. Reed defines it as the place where squad cars unload prisoners. Except for the occasional resumption of a perennial backyard dialogue between Chris's dog Kira and Dirk's pug Cosmo, the animals adjusted pretty well to the situation. During the course of the night, wives came down to report on the goings-on upstairs.

The lone cat who made the trip was Julie's 13-year-old tortoise shell Jade, who clung to a fireman while Julie's 4-year-old daughter Leah was clinging to her. Jade eventually allowed herself to be disengaged from her protector and put into a carrier.

"It really was a bonding experience for everyone," said Leslie. Laurel Circle newcomers Frank and Miranda agreed that the block-party aspect of the situation gave them a chance to become acquainted with people on the street they had not yet met. It also made everyone appreciate the way the police and fire department and EMS volunteers handled the crisis. And it was a wake-up call for residents using gas.

The emergency technicians made sure everything was in order before they let the night owls back into their nests. Next day an assiduous follow-up involved repeated checkings of all meters and pipes on the block. PSE&G have a plan that started a year ago to check all of Princeton for potential defects, to prioritize the level of problems, and to correct them before another incident like this occurs.