Historic Moment at the Pluckemin Cantonment – Archeologist Finds His Mark

It was a cold, winterish April afternoon at the Jacobus Vanderveer House in Bedminster, New Jersey, as a very special guest came to tell his story about what has become a signature event in the history of the Revolutionary War and the Continental Army’s struggles during that period. We introduce you to John Seidel, director of archaeology at Washington College in Chestertown, Maryland, to tell his story about what many feel is one of the greatest stories never told about America’s actual first training academy at the Pluckemin Cantonment, a site that was active 28 years before the Military Academy at West Point.

General Knox’s Artillery Cantonment & Academy at Pluckemin Winter 1778-1779

During the winter of 1778-1779, the main Continental Army under George Washington established its winter encampment near Middlebrook (Bound Brook), New Jersey. Over 8,000 infantry and artillery personnel spent approximately six months at this location. The Continental Artillery Park was located at Pluckemin, New Jersey, several miles north of the infantry camps. At this location, the artillerists constructed barracks for nearly 1,000 men and established a depot, repair facilities, and an academy for artillery officers. Yes, there was an Academy for training in the art of artillery warfare. But as quickly as it was established, the Continental Army abandoned this encampment in June 1779. In the 1980s, archaeological excavations exposed remains of the “Artillery Park” and recovered thousands of artifacts, but we have a really great story that only three people got to experience. Now it’s time to tell that story.

The Presentation

The grounds of the Jacobus Vanderveer House were alive with anticipation. As a trustee of the historic site and project manager for a Somerset County grant dedicated to uncovering the story of the Pluckemin Cantonment, I knew this moment had been years in the making. It was time to reintroduce Dr. John Seidel, the archaeologist whose pioneering work helped bring the Revolutionary War’s first military academy to light. Returning to the very place where General Henry Knox and Commander Washington’s officers once trained, Seidel captivated the audience with a public presentation on his team’s latest findings and unveiled a stunning new digital reconstruction of the Pluckemin Cantonment, a vivid, modern window into America’s military past.

General Henry Knox had innovative ideas for improving the Continental Army’s artillery. At Pluckemin, he put many of his theories into practice. The camp itself, at the time, was an impressive sight that attracted spectators from miles around. In addition to barracks for the enlisted men and separate quarters for the officers, the camp included an armourer’s shop, a complete military forge, and a laboratory. The most significant innovation, however, was the establishment of the first military academy in the country to train artillery and engineering officers, therefore becoming the forerunner to the Academy at West Point.”

Many wonder why the story isn’t well-known, and the answer is simple. When Washington asked Congress for funds to build the artillery park cantonment, they denied his request. As a result, the work had to be done quietly, and there were very few records of correspondence from the period about what Knox wanted to do. As we know now, they did it anyway.

Trek and Truth

A little perspective: Over the past two and a half centuries, three archaeologists have dedicated their lives to unraveling the mystery of the Pluckemin Cantonment. Max Schrabisch began the search in 1916, Clifford Sekel carried it forward in 1972, and John Seidel followed in the 1980s. Each added a new layer of understanding to this remarkable chapter of Revolutionary War history. But it was John who would ultimately stand on the very ground where the Pluckemin Academy once stood, the first to truly recognize its exact resting place beneath the New Jersey soil.

After the presentation, I coaxed John and his longtime colleague and friend, Stewart Bruce to walk that same hillside they had excavated decades ago. The wind bit through our jackets as we set out on foot, GPS in hand, toward the hill where John had once led his team decades earlier, where he had dug, mapped, cataloged, and dreamed. More than thirty years had passed since those early excavations, yet you could feel the same spark in John’s eyes, as if time itself had folded back on this moment.

The three of us spread out along the slope, the crunch of leaves and the beeping of the GPS the only sounds breaking the quiet. John, filled with boyish energy, darted ahead into the trees, scanning the landscape like a man reunited with an old friend. Stewart and I hung back, studying the small glowing screen in our hands. Each step, each small adjustment brought us closer. Then suddenly, Stewart stopped.

He stood perfectly still, a thin plume of smoke curling from the cigarette at the corner of his mouth. Without taking his eyes off the device, he said calmly, “Hey… check this out.”I leaned in. The coordinates lined up perfectly. “What did you find?” I asked, half knowing the answer already.“This is it,” he said quietly. Then, more firmly, almost reverently, “This is where the Academy was.”

A rush of emotion welled up: awe, pride, disbelief. For over two centuries, scholars, historians, and dreamers had searched for this spot. And here we were, standing on it. I turned toward the woods, my voice breaking the still air. “John! Come here, Stewart’s found something!”

When John appeared through the trees, his eyes locked on the screen and then on the ground beneath his boots. For a long moment, no one said a word. The hillside, the wind, the weight of history, it all seemed to hold its breath. After thirty years, the Pluckemin Academy was about to finally reveal itself to John.

“This is it….. this is where the Academy was.”

Stewart Bruce tells John Sidel about the Academy find.

John came striding toward us, covering the last fifty yards with that same eager energy he had all afternoon. “What’s up, guys?” he called out, a mix of curiosity and impatience in his voice. Stewart looked down at the GPS, then up at John, his cigarette still dangling from his lip. “Based on everything you gave me, your maps, your notes, your data, we’re standing right now in the dead center of what was the Pluckemin Academy building.” He paused, letting the words hang in the cold air. John stopped. For a heartbeat, none of us spoke. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face, part disbelief, part triumph. His eyes moved across the hillside, taking it all in, as though he were seeing the ghosts of Washington’s officers standing there beside him. With a deep breath, he nodded and said softly, almost to himself, “I knew it. I knew it.”

There was something deeply emotional in that moment, the culmination of a lifetime of work, of long months in the field, of faith that the past could still be found beneath our feet. You could see it in John’s eyes: relief, pride, and maybe even the hint of a tear. For him, this wasn’t just a discovery; it was closure. That cold afternoon had become something far greater, a quiet victory for American history. We spent another half hour wandering the hillside, tracing outlines, recalling excavation notes, and matching terrain to memory. The snow crunched beneath our boots, but our minds were somewhere else entirely, in 1779, among soldiers, tents, and the birth of America’s first military academy.

As we made our way back down the hill, I asked John what came next, what he would do when retirement finally came calling. He smiled and said he wanted to find a warm Caribbean island, sit by the sea, and spend a year writing about this place, about Pluckemin, about discovery, about perseverance.

In 2025, John and I caught up on a call. John has since retired from Washington College, moving on to new adventures and quiet projects of his own. That next chapter of his life, like the one he helped uncover on that Bedminster hillside, is still being written. And I hope he does write that book, because as he told me the first time we met, “This might just be the greatest American Revolutionary story never told.”

First Model Renderings in Digital Format

The video below shows a grant from the Somerset County Cultural and Heritage Commission to the Friends of the Jacobus Vanderveer house. In 2012, I served as the Project Manager for the grant’s execution. Instead of producing a physical model of the cantonment, a decision was made to create a virtual model, as additional updates were likely to change the assumptions we were about to make. John Seidel, along with Stewart Bruce at Washington College, and a team of students compiled the video presentation below.

2nd Pluckemin Cantonment Model

After completing the digital reconstruction, the Friends of the Jacobus Vanderveer House nonprofit agreed it was time to take the next step, to bring the Pluckemin Cantonment to life as a physical scale model. This new model would be based on Dr. John Seidel’s extensive archaeological research and findings, ensuring both historical accuracy and educational value.

To lead the project, the Friends selected professional model maker Stephen Schwab of Bethlehem Township, New Jersey. A graduate of Somerville High School and Rutgers University, Schwab was known for his craftsmanship and attention to historical detail. The project was made possible through the generosity of Yolanda Cillo, former president of the Friends of the Jacobus Vanderveer House, whose financial contribution helped turn years of research into a tangible, visual centerpiece for the site’s ongoing interpretation of Revolutionary War history.

The exhibit at the historic Jacobus Vanderveer House on River Road was formally unveiled in a ceremony that drew dozens of history buffs on Thursday evening, May 19, 2022.

Just this past weekend, we returned to the Jacobus Vanderveer House to photograph the Pluckemin Cantonment model, only to find it had been removed during the dissolution of the non-profit overseeing it. We have an update in the story below.

Additional Detailed Research

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