SJ History:

Few figures in South Jersey's history have more tales and myths attached to them than the Tory outlaw, Joe Mulliner, often referred to as the "Robin Hood of the Pine Barrens." His was a most unusual career, related over and over through the centuries, with more details added with each retelling. However, Joe Mulliner was real, and his exploits during the time of the Revolutionary War were legendary. How much of his life's tale is true, and how much is myth, the reader can decide for himself.

Little is known is of Joe Mulliner's early life. Although he was often referred to as an "Englishman," that was probably more a description of his politics than his birthplace. He was likely born in the 1740's in or near the sandy soils of South Jersey. He came from a "good" family and was well educated for his time. He grew to be a giant of man, well over six feet tall, with the strength to match. His personality matched his size, and his booming laughter could be heard wherever a good time was being had. He loved to dance, he loved the ladies, and his aggressive friendliness and good humor attracted people to him.

During one of these parties Mulliner met the woman who was to become his wife. Her name has been lost in the pages of history. They eventually married and settled down on a small farm overlooking the Mullica River near present-day Pleasant Mills. Their lives appeared quiet until the Revolutionary War broke out around them. Although two of his brothers joined the American forces, serving with distinction, Mulliner's loyalty remained with the King of England, as did many other New Jersey residents.

Joe Mulliner's decision did not sit well with his pro-independence neighbors, and he was forced to flee his home to avoid arrest in 1779. For some unknown reason the ruling colonial government never seized his home, as was the rule in the case of "known and unrepentant Tories." Perhaps the property belonged to his wife's family, or perhaps the community hoped the popular neighbor would come to his senses, but although Mulliner went into hiding, his wife remained tending to the farm, unmolested throughout the war.

The fugitive Mulliner did not hide far from home, and he banded together with about forty men in like circumstances and camped at "The Forks," an island in the middle of the Mullica River just south of Pleasant Mills and only a half-mile from his wife and farm. The Forks was an excellent hideout for "Refugees," as they called themselves, as the surrounding swamps and heavy growth of cedar trees shielded them from the authorities. Some of the men were political refugees like Mulliner, but many were just common criminals looking for a gang to join with. Mulliner, with his strength of body and personality, quickly became the leader of this band of not-so-merry men, and they began to terrorize the surrounding area, robbing stagecoaches, houses and taverns.

The comparisons of Joe Mulliner to Robin Hood began early in his criminal career. He was a thief and a robber, but he was one with class. In all their illegal exploits, he and his gang never killed, or even seriously injured anyone. With his physical attributes, he made a dashing figure, complete with swords and pistols attached to his belt. Possessed with a friendly nature and good humor, he would converse and joke with his victims, and frequently left the poorer ones unmolested. With his daring reputation and famed exploits, many looked upon it as an honor to be robbed by the famous Joe Mulliner. One example of how he gained that reputation occurred in 1780.

On that occasion, Mulliner was not present when some members of his gang were robbing the house of a widow named Bates while she was attending Sunday services at the Little Log Meeting House in Pleasant Mills. Their timing, however, was off, and the widow arrived home with her young sons while they were still carrying out their burglary. She was so incensed she could not control her temper, and threw both epitaphs and stones at the gang members. No amount of words or threats would quiet her. Finally the gang was forced to lash her and her sons to a nearby tree until they were finished. As an act of retribution for her actions and words, they burned the house to the ground before untying them and departing. A few weeks later, a $300.00 donation arrived anonymously for the widow Bates. She and the community agreed that it had to have come from Mulliner, as an apology for the excesses of his men.

Another of Joe Mulliner's exploits has become so shrouded in myth and fiction, it has become impossible to determine what is true and what is not. Honoria Read was the young and beautiful daughter of Charles Read, Ironmaster of Batsto village. In the summer of 1781, she gave a party at her home in Pleasant Mills, and Mulliner took exception to his name having been left off the guest list. Never one to stand on ceremony, he crashed the party and left with the unwilling hostess. The story of her kidnapping and escape are told in the novel by Charles J. Peterson, "Kate Aylesford," published in 1855, with pseudonyms for the main characters. Whether the legend begot the novel, or the novel the legend, is unknown. What is known is the location of the house where Honoria Read reportedly lived and was abducted from, which has forever since been known as the "Kate Aylesford Mansion."

In the forgotten and lost town of Washington, buried deep in the Wharton State Forest, another Mulliner legend was born. On the old stage road from Quaker Bridge to Tuckerton lies the ruins of an old stable that for many years has been misidentified as the ruins of the renowned Washington Tavern. The actual site of the tavern is less than a half-mile east on the opposite side of the road, where all that remains is a depression in the ground that marks the location of the cellar. One day Mulliner made his way towards the back door of the tavern in search of some refreshment. In the way he passed a young woman crying in the backyard. When he inquired as to the cause of her troubles, his appearance frightened her, and she ran into the inn. Mulliner followed and soon discovered the cause of her unhappiness, a forced betrothal. He waited for the start of the ceremony before appearing on the stairway with his guns brandished to stop the marriage. He gave the groom one of two choices, leave or die. The groom choice the former, and was never seen again. Risking arrest, Mulliner stayed until nightfall, drinking and dancing too much, but not leaving until every woman present had a turn on the dance-floor with him.

About five miles northwest of Washington Tavern stood the town of Quaker Bridge, appropriately named for the nearby bridge spanning the Batsto River which was built, not surprisingly, by a group of Quakers. At a tavern here one stormy night, Mulliner again arrived as a party was in progress. Perhaps the music had drawn him, or perhaps he had a spy in the area that told him where a night's entertainment could be found, but he always seemed to appear whenever there were festivities. As was habit, he picked the prettiest woman to dance with first, and gradually took a turn with all the women at the party. Normally, none of the men would dare challenge him, but on this one night in Quaker Bridge, a small and timid man refused to allow his date to dance with Mulliner, and when the outlaw pushed the suitor aside and insisted, the angry man slapped Mulliner across the face. The crowd waited for an explosion of fists or bullets from the famed Refugee, but instead he began to chuckle, and then his booming laughter rang out. Declaring that, "So fearless a little bantam must have the best girl present," he shook hands with the slapper, danced one turn with his partner, and returned her with his compliments before disappearing into the night.

Joe Mulliner's love of dance and drink would ultimately prove his undoing. In the early summer of 1781, he crashed his final party in present-day Nesco. The festivities were in full swing at the Indian Cabin Mill Inn when he arrived with his usual flair. As always, he picked the prettiest woman to dance with, pushing her partner aside. The furious man slipped out the back door and past the guards the outlaw had posted. He made his way to the nearby home of Captain Baylin, the leader of the local militia, who had vowed to hunt down and capture the infamous Refugee leader. He quickly raised a posse and surrounded the inn. Mulliner surrendered and for the first time in his life found himself a captive.

Mulliner was taken to Burlington, where he was imprisoned and tried. The New Jersey Gazette of August 8, 1781, reported:

"At a special court lately held in Burlington, a certain Joseph Mulliner, of Egg-Harbour, was convicted of high treason, and is sentenced to be hanged this very day. This fellow had become the terror of that part of country. He had made a practice of burning houses, robbing and plundering all who fell in his way, so that when he came to trial it appeared the whole country, both Whigs and Tories, were his enemy."

Mulliner was taken from his jail cell and transported, his own coffin in the wagon with him, to nearby Gallows Hill. There the career of New Jersey's most famous Refugee came to a final end. His body was sent home to his wife and buried on the family farm he had been forced to flee from just three short years earlier. His grave was marked with a simple small stone reading, "JM." However, he did not rest easily. Travelers along the old stage roads would report hearing booming laughter in the woods, or seeing a large man standing in the roadway with guns drawn. Others would report a lone ghostly figure walking along the banks of the Mullica River near The Forks. In 1850, some drunken workers from nearby Batsto dug up his bones, but Jesse Richards, the Ironmaster of the village, had them returned for proper reburial. The grave then remained unchanged and rarely visited until the 1930's, when a local sportsmen's club installed a more proper headstone. It read, "The Grave of Joe Mulliner - Hung 1781."

Like many of the towns and villages that once existed in the vast expanse of the New Jersey Pine Barrens, Joe Mulliner's grave has now disappeared. There is little physical evidence remaining of the legendary leader of the Refugee gang. Even his ghost is no longer seen about the countryside. However, among the heavy growth trees along the old stage roads in Wharton State Forest, you can still feel the apprehension travelers must have felt when Mulliner was on the loose. Unable to see clearly very far in any direction, you can understand how easily a stage could be surprised. The remoteness of the area makes you realize how alone you would be if stopped by the outlaw. You can still sense the spirit of Joe Mulliner. He would still feel right at home here.

For content references, see New Jersey History's Mysteries.

For more South Jersey History, visit our SJ History page.

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Author: Editor