Orange Memorial Hospital of Essex County

 

Four photos. That’s all I managed to take of the abandoned Orange Memorial Hospital in Orange, New Jersey. I had explored countless forgotten places before, but this one was different. It wasn’t just the eerie emptiness or the decay—it was something heavier, something unsettling.  

Stepping through an open window, I was immediately hit by the overpowering stench of human waste. Inside, the destruction was almost surreal. Time, vandals, squatters, and thrill-seeking teenagers had left the place in ruins. Papers were strewn across the floors, ductwork hung from the ceilings, and walls bore the scars of years of neglect.  

But it wasn’t just the sights or smells that got to me. It was the feeling. A thick, unshakable presence weighed on me, like I was being watched. I had explored countless abandoned buildings alone, yet I had never felt this way before. Something about this place wasn’t right.  

Despite my unease, I pressed on, making my way toward the boiler house. But it was impossible to reach. I circled the property, searching for another way in while keeping an eye out for squatters. The hospital grounds were easy enough to access—gaps in the fence and open driveways made sure of that. Only two structures remained secure: the boarded-up Mary Austen Hall, once home to the state’s first nursing school, and the boiler house, locked away from view.  

Eventually, the sense of unease won. I left, retreating to another abandoned site nearby, but the feeling of Orange Memorial lingered long after I had driven away.

History

For much of the 20th century, Orange Memorial Hospital stood as a pillar of healthcare for Orange, New Jersey, and its surrounding communities. More than just a medical facility, it was a symbol of progress, built with the support of philanthropic families like the Sticklers and Colgates.  

The hospital’s roots stretch back to the 19th century, with its nursing school—founded in 1883—being one of the first in the nation. Over time, the institution expanded, with structures built between 1906 and 1963, many of which still reflect the Colonial Revival architectural style crafted by New York architects Crow, Lewis & Wick.  

Now listed on the National Register of Historic Places, Orange Memorial Hospital remains a landmark of both architectural and medical history. Though its doors have long since closed, its legacy endures in the fabric of the community it once served.

Orange Memorial Hospital began as a charming brick building nestled in an old Italian neighborhood. Vintage photos show a structure that looked more like a home than a medical facility, with shutters on the windows and a wide wooden porch welcoming patients. But as the community grew, so did the need for healthcare, and the small three-story hospital quickly expanded into a six-acre medical campus. Five of its nine buildings were designed by renowned New York architects Crow, Lewis & Wick, shaping its signature Colonial Revival style.  

The hospital’s founding was driven by both personal loss and public necessity. Dr. William Pierson and socialite John Vose envisioned a hospital and nursing school—one of the first in the country—built in memory of Vose’s late wife, giving the institution its "memorial" name. Yet, this was no mere tribute. At the time, the Oranges lacked a nearby hospital, forcing residents to travel miles to Newark for medical care. With industry shifting toward suburban areas, a growing working-class population needed access to healthcare, especially as factories like F. Berg & Co. and Thomas Edison’s laboratories drew more workers to the region.  

Orange Memorial Hospital was built to serve them, and for generations, it did just that.

As broad avenues, railroad tracks, and trolley lines carved through the countryside, the quiet dairy farms of the Oranges transformed into bustling suburbs. With growth came opportunity—but also challenges. The 19th century was marked by deadly epidemics and frequent accidents, leaving the working class in desperate need of medical care. Orange Memorial Hospital became not just a convenience but a necessity.  

John Vose, already committed to honoring his late wife with the hospital’s founding, found allies in his social circles—wealthy philanthropists who also sought to create lasting legacies. Many of them were industrial leaders who had settled in affluent neighborhoods like Llewelyn Park and Seven Oaks. Their support helped turn Orange Memorial from a single building into a vital institution, ensuring that the poor, sick, and injured had a place to turn to in times of crisis.

Like many community hospitals, Orange Memorial struggled to survive in the early 2000s. Rising healthcare costs, a growing uninsured population, and shifting regulations all played a role in its decline. Some blamed the burden of charity care, which left the hospital financially strained. Others pointed to the repeal of rate-setting laws, which had once controlled costs and prevented price discrimination. More controversially, some accused Catholic Healthcare System—the company that took over the hospital in 2002—of deliberately draining its resources to benefit its other facilities.

Regardless of the cause, the hospital’s final years were marked by hardship and controversy. As financial instability worsened, doctors and nurses left for more secure positions elsewhere. The quality of care declined, and in 2002, the state health department shut down the hospital’s operating rooms due to health-code violations. The following year, workers protested outside, furious over lost pensions. A federal intervention later ensured they would receive what they were owed, but the damage was done. After serving the community for over a century, Orange Memorial Hospital officially closed in 2004 following a board vote.

What remained was a shell of a once-thriving institution. The buildings sat vacant, deteriorating under the ownership of a neglectful LLC. In 2015, plans surfaced to redevelop the site into apartments, but nothing ever came of it. The hospital was added to the National Register of Historic Places, further complicating demolition or redevelopment efforts.

By 2019, the situation had worsened. The abandoned hospital, long a magnet for crime and decay, became the site of an unsettling discovery—several dead bodies were found inside. The news never made headlines, but it was enough to push the city of Orange to finally secure the crumbling structure.

After years of decay and stalled redevelopment efforts, Orange Memorial Hospital may finally have a future. According to local reports, New York-based Gateway Merchant Banking has proposed a $350 million plan to transform the long-abandoned site into a massive housing and commercial development.  

The project calls for 1,005 apartments, ranging from studios to three-bedroom units, with up to 20% designated as affordable housing. There is also potential for senior and student housing. Luxury-style amenities—including a rooftop pool with cabanas, a sky lounge, fitness rooms, and 200 electric vehicle charging stations—are expected to be part of the development. Additionally, 70,190 square feet of retail and commercial space will be available for lease.  

However, bringing this vision to life will require major changes. Seven of the nine existing buildings on the hospital site would be demolished, but two historically significant structures will be preserved and repurposed. Mary Austen Hall—the last remaining piece of New Jersey’s first nursing school—would be transformed into Orange’s new City Hall. Meanwhile, the old boiler house, once used to heat the hospital, is set to become a restaurant with indoor and outdoor seating.  

Before demolition can begin, though, the project must clear a major hurdle: approval from the State Historic Preservation Office. Any National Register-listed building involved in a public-private partnership requires state review, and preservation officials typically only approve demolitions in cases of structural instability. So far, the developer has not yet brought the proposal before the state office.  

Community concerns are also mounting. Several local organizations—including the HUUB, the University of Orange, and Ebenezer Baptist Church—have criticized the project for lacking public input. Residents worry about increased congestion and rising home values that could push out longtime community members.  

For now, the future of Orange Memorial Hospital remains uncertain. If approved, the redevelopment could breathe new life into the site. But if history is any indicator, residents have reason to be skeptical—previous plans for the property have failed before. Whether this proposal moves forward or stalls like the 2015 effort remains to be seen.

Sources:

1. "Orange Memorial Hospital in NJ will become new, affordable housing," North New Jersey.

2. Tobia, D. (2020, November 27). "Preservation Commission Takes Final Stand to Save Historic Hospital in Orange," Jersey Digs.

3. Tobia, D. (2022, April 13). "Preservationists Fear Redevelopment Endangers Orange Memorial Hospital," Jersey Digs.

4. Tobia, D. (2025, January 25). "Preservation New Jersey: Plan to redevelop Orange Memorial Hospital Needs State Review," The Four Oranges.

5. Tobia, D. (2024, November 13). " Mary Austen Hall Could Be Saved, But Seven Buildings at Orange Memorial Hospital Face Demolition," The Four Oranges. 

6. Cowen, R. (2025, February 20). "Historic N.J. hospital to be transformed into 1,000 apartments, but some neighbors are concerned," NJ.com