Picture a country barn set back from the road. Cars parked along a tree line, never too close together. Men arriving quietly, some local, others from out of town. Inside, cages line the walls and a small pit sits at the center. Cash changes hands. Bottles are passed. Someone always seems to be watching the road. That same scene unfolded in Somerset Hills in 1938, again in 1950, and once more in 1975. Each time, it looked familiar. Each time, it ended very differently.
“When you make the front page of the local newspaper, you know something big happened. Cockfighting made the July 13, 1975 cover of Bernardsville News“
1938: Bernardsville Cockfighting Ring Busted
In 1938, police stepped into a barn on Mine Brook Road and found more than 50 people, cages of birds, and everything ready to go. No fight was underway. Fines were issued for disorderly conduct and everyone was sent home. At the time, authorities were focused on gambling, crowd control, and keeping the peace. The birds were almost beside the point.
That approach fit how cockfighting was viewed nationally in the 1930s. For many Americans, especially in rural areas, it lived in a gray space between sport, gambling, and tradition. Participants ranged from farmers and laborers to businessmen who treated it as a quiet underground pastime. During the Great Depression, when money was tight and uncertainty was high, cockfighting offered distraction, fast cash, and bragging rights. Bloodlines mattered. Reputation mattered. Small fines were often just the price of doing business.
Bernardsville News Reporting
Read as the Articles were Published
1950: Bedminster Estate Raid
By 1950, that tolerance had worn thin. After World War 2, law enforcement had far less patience for underground operations quietly moving money across state lines. Cockfighting was no longer dismissed as a rural nuisance. It was increasingly viewed as part of a larger gambling network. That shift was on full display at the Middlebrook estate in Bedminster. State and local police launched a large scale raid that included aerial surveillance. Dozens of cars arrived from New Jersey, New York, and Pennsylvania. Twenty seven men were taken into custody. Equipment, pits, cages, and dead birds were seized. Prosecutors talked about grand juries. This was no longer a barn full of spectators. It was treated as an organized operation with repeat players and real money at stake.
The sponsors behind these events were not fringe figures. Middlebrook was owned by Roger D. Mellick, a New York stock broker. These gatherings were hosted by landowners and businessmen with money, privacy, and confidence that they could manage the risk. Many saw themselves as preserving a tradition, not committing a crime. Large cash bail and professional bondsmen suggest they expected legal trouble and planned accordingly.
1975: Basking Ridge Has it’s Turn
By 1975, the ground shifted again. The animal welfare movement had gained momentum, and laws dating back to the 1880s were suddenly being enforced in new ways. Prosecutors no longer needed to catch a fight in progress. Ownership of birds, preparation of space, or allowing property to be used was enough.
That explains the Bernards Township case involving Edmund B. Ross. Acting on a tip, police and SPCA officials visited his 53 acre farm estate. There was no crowd, no pit in use, and no fight underway. The birds were healthy. The barn was a well kept white structure with wide sliding doors. Ross was cooperative and stated that fights occurred only where legal. None of that mattered anymore. The law had moved from reacting to what people did to preventing what they intended to do. Across all 3 cases, the sponsors shared common traits. They were organized, socially connected, and careful. They relied on private invitations, large properties, and discretion. For decades, that strategy worked. Small fines in 1938, tolerated gray areas in the 1940s, and complex prosecutions in 1950 reinforced the belief that hosting these events was a manageable risk.
The Law and Social Attitude Both Change
What changed was not the barn, the birds, or even the people. What changed was the patience of the law and public pressure and resentment. Seen together, these local stories tell a larger American one. What began as a tolerated rural pastime slowly became an underground gambling scene and eventually crossed a line society decided could not be ignored. The barns, estates, and back roads of Somerset Hills just happened to be where that national shift played out.
And if those old barns could talk, they would probably say the same thing every time. They thought they were being careful but they knew….. Now you know.
One More….
We saw this classified advertisement in 1972……
Have you heard differently? Did we miss anything? If so, drop a comment at the end of the post.
New Jersey Cockfighting Laws
| Feature | 1880 Law (Original) | Modern Law (N.J.S.A. 4:22-24) |
|---|---|---|
| Year Enacted | 1880 (with minor amendments in early 1900s) (NJ Courts) | Current codification |
| Core Focus | Prevent cruelty to animals; specifically banning cockfighting and keeping fighting cocks (from article description) | Broad prohibition on all animal fighting and baiting activities involving any live animal |
| Scope of Animals | Focus on “fighting cocks” (roosters) based on article reference | Covers any living animal or creature |
| Prohibited Acts | Keeping/using roosters for fighting; hosting cockfight events | Keep, manage, witness, assist, own, train, sell, or gamble on fights |
| Penalty | Up to $1,000 fine and up to 2 years jail (per 1975 article context) | Crime of the third degree (serious felony level) (FindLaw Codes) |
