elcome back to beautiful Long Beach Island — 18 miles of history, memories, and this year — anniversaries. The Southern Ocean Chamber of Commerce is celebrating its 110th anniversary which also marks the 110th anniversary of the opening of the original Causeway bridge. Grace Calvary Church is celebrating its centennial all summer and Ship Bottom is coming up on its 100th year as well.
As we do every year, Denis and I drove west to visit our children and grandchildren. This past year, we only drove as far as Longmont, Colorado. Next year we hope to cover the whole east to west as we have done in the past — Atlantic to Pacific — with great stops at national parks, and natural wonders along the way.
Since receiving the Robert Fry Engle glass plates, it has occurred to us that many times, over the past three decades of driving across country, we have traveled the same roads and stopped at the same places Engle photographed. I marvel at Engle’s dedication and stamina. I can only imagine what it must have taken to get some of the breathtaking photos he took. Denis and I travel with a lot of gear, but nothing that even comes close to the photographic equipment Engle hauled up mountainsides through the wilderness. Thank goodness for cell phone cameras.
I am pleased to have a story in this issue about Jack’s De Luxe Diner. It is a unique part of LBI history that holds so many memories for a generation of LBI teens. Especially memorable is the local connection to the acapella group that often sang there. For a while, for many teens Jack’s seemed like the center of the universe.
For me, Jack’s evokes memories of my first car, a 1956-ish sun-bleached Renault Dauphine that I purchased from a man in Loveladies. At $50, the price was right; never mind that the starter was missing. I just needed a few people to push while I popped the clutch to get it started. Once my Renault was moving, it was a great car. No matter where I went, I turned it off as seldom as possible, especially if I was alone. Although, it often attracted help, especially at Jack’s. My youngest sister, Susie, called my car, “Push and Go.” More than any of us, she hated the thought of getting stuck somewhere.
Whenever the fire siren sounded, my sisters and I dashed off to the scene. I suppose you could say we were fire truck chasers. To this day, I still believe it was something we did out of concern. Although, my sister, Merry, says we were simply curious by nature, or perhaps bored. One of the chasings led us to a situation of our own when the siren went off one night after we were already in our PJs. Merry, Susie, and I jumped into my Renault Dauphine and went to find the fire. Of course, the car stopped running; we had to push and pop the clutch in our flannel PJs. Susie will never let me forget that night. Also, she did not want me to write this but an older sister’s prerogative always rules. Just ask any younger sibling.
Celebrating with friends and family on LBI is one of the best ways to make memories. As it is every year, one of our festivities is our chowder and chili cook-off. The winner again this year was Steve McGarry for his grandmother’s Rhode Island clear clam chowder. For our 2024 cook-off we are taking things to a whole new level with the addition of a special guest judge, Chef Andreas of Mensa Eats will be joining us. So, everyone is going to have to step up their game.
Lastly, we are honored to be the recipient of the Ocean County Cultural and Heritage Commission Salute Awards 2024 — Award of Special Merit for extraordinary achievements and contributions to the quality of life in Ocean County: for keeping history alive and promoting local artists, writers, poets, and photographers. I am grateful for my dedicated staff who joins me in thanking the talented writers, artists, poets and photographers, Islanders, vacationers, visitors, and contributors that help us fill the pages of Echoes. We are constantly humbled by those who so generously share their family history, entrust us with heirloom photographs, and share their love of LBI with us. It takes a village to publish Echoes of LBI Magazine. Thank you for being our village.
Celebrate everything. Keep history alive. Enjoy more sunsets.
Cheryl Kirby Publisher, Echoes of LBI Magazine
Echoes of LBI Magazine • Cheryl Kirby, Owner & Publisher • (609) 361-1668 • 406 Long Beach Blvd. • Ship Bottom, NJ • echoesoflbi.com
If you have an LBI story, photography, poetry, nostalgia, beach find or art you would like to share, tell us at echoesoflbi@gmail.com.
Advertisers: Readers collect Echoes of LBI – your ad has the unique potential to produce results for many years beyond the issue date.
Magazine Designer – Sara Caruso • Copy Editor – Susan Spicer-McGarry • Pre-press – Vickie VanDoren
Photographers – Lisa Atkins, Daniel Brede, Barbra Bongiardino, Sara Caruso, Mary De Sane, Kathy DeWitt, Dimitri Cugini, Cheryl Galdieri, Johnny Gofus, Joe Guastella, Nina Herbst, Mary Hoffman, Keith Holley, Diane Keeler, Denis Kirby, Holly Loihle, Marlena Marie Photography, Jeannette Michelson, Jim O'Connor, Maggie O'Neill, Anthony Pitale, Nancy Rokos, Gillian Rozicer, Dottie Pariot, Reilly Platten Sharp, Tyler Steinbrunn, Kathleen Stockman, Diane Stulga, Kelly Travis-Taylor, and Steven Wagner
Contributors – Lisa Atkins, Karen Bagnard, Matthew Bernstein, Pat Born, Jay Bower, Linda Bubar, Sara Caruso, John Chmura, Mary Davey, Nikoleta Dervisevic, Justine Dinardolim, Joyce Ecochard, Nancy Edwards, Cora June Einhorn, Brandon Foley, Michele Foulke, Carol Freas, Judy Gregg, Joe Guastella, Mary Ann Himmelsbach, Nancy Kelly Kunz, Kelly McElroy, Mary McBride Majkut, Pat Morgan, Maureen Newman, Maggie O'Neill, Edith Dalland Parker, Fran Pelham, Gillian Rozicer, Randy Rush, Reilly Platten Sharp, Ann Sheridan, Merry Simmons, Susan Spicer-McGarry, Diane Stulga, Teresa M. Tilton, and Brad Ziffer
Content photo – Nina Herbst • Cover photo – Sara Caruso, story on page 93
Echoes of LBI Magazine™ | Copyright ©2008-2024 Cheryl Kirby, Publisher and Owner | All Rights Reserved
The contents of Echoes of LBI Magazine are property of Cheryl Kirby, publisher, and are protected by copyright and other intellectual property laws. No portion of this publication can be reproduced, transmitted, or republished without the expressed permission of the publisher.
An acrylic interpretation of Vincent van Gogh’s The Starry Night by Nancy Edwards was awarded 1st Place in Pine Shores Art Association’s Fabulous Fakes Interpretive Division — 2023.
Vincent van Gogh painted the original in June 1889 in Provence, France. His impressive night sky was filled with color. His palette of blue, orange, yellow and pink blends depicted the depths of the night and the mystery of the universe. Making swirling, wavelike lines of color in the background, created rings of light surrounding the stars in the nighttime sky creating movement.
Nancy admired his use of color, texture, and movement with his paint. To add a twist, she replaced his cypress trees with Barnegat Lighthouse and the town in his painting with a dock. —Artwork and story by Nancy Edwards
Bonnie booked a B&B in Barnegat Light, Long Beach Island, on a recommendation from Trip Advisor. Three days off from waitressing in the city would be a welcome break and she loved exploring new beach towns. The ocean seemed to quell a vague unrest in her spirit.
The May weather was sunny and mild. After checking in, she headed to the beach. Long, windswept dunes overlooked the sea. Crashing waves sprayed white foam high into the air as she walked along the edge of the sand. It was a beach, much like many others she had explored. But for some reason, this one filled her with deep contentment. She was surprised at her reaction.
Late afternoon she changed into her favorite blue sundress and headed out to The Barnegat Light restaurant for dinner. It was a classic, old establishment, weathered and filled with historical memorabilia. As she entered, she noticed a waitress wanted sign posted near the front door.
She took a seat at the bar and looked around. A feeling of calm washed over her in a way she had never experienced. She ordered a glass of wine and briefly wondered if she should look into the help wanted.
After ordering dinner, Bonnie headed to the ladies’ room. An old painting hanging on the wall caught her attention. It was of a young woman lying on the sand holding a conch shell and wearing a vintage swim dress and hat in bright blue with stockings and swim slippers. In her own blue dress, Bonnie realized she looked like the woman’s twin.
She asked the bartender if he knew anything about the woman in the picture. “That painting is from the old Barnegat Light hotel. The woman was a waitress there and used to spend all her free time on the beach. A friend painted her in that pose, and the picture hung on the wall of the hotel until the Inn was torn down. Many of our pictures are from that building. We don’t know too much about her, but the locals call her Bonnie Blue due to her hat and swim dress. Come to think of it, you look a lot like her! You could be her ghost.”
The next morning Bonnie took a long walk on the beach at sunrise. Near the jetty she found an unbroken conch shell. As tradition dictates, she held the shell up to her ear. After the initial roar of the ocean, she heard the siren call as the shell whispered, “You are home.” —Written by Maggie O'Neill • Artwork by Carol Freas
When Late Summer finds us along the island shore, some delightful warmer days arrive for us once more.
The beach is nearly empty, vacationers are few, dogs play fetch, children play catch beside a sea of blue.
Grab a hat and folding chair, sit down, enjoy the sun. Savor these last pleasant days before the winter comes.
—Poetry and artwork by Joyce Ecochard
At a special gathering last August, the spirit of renowned sculptor Boris Blai, the founder of the Long Beach Island Foundation of the Arts & Sciences, was rekindled as a group of those who knew him, studied with him, or whose lives were touched by him came together around special art and artifacts in his honor. Commemorating its 75th year, the Foundation under the auspices of Executive Director Daniella Kerner hosted the event organized by Echoes of LBI Magazine publisher Cheryl Kirby with the assistance of graphic designer Sara Caruso and editor/researcher Susan Spicer-McGarry. Featured speakers included Larry Oliphant, Reilly Platten Sharp, and Susan Spicer-McGarry with special guest Stuart Mark Feldman.
A believer in art as a form of expression and healing, Blai discovered Long Beach Island in 1927, saying later, “the Island is where I found my future.” That future included a decades-long teaching career as a founder of Temple University’s Tyler School of Art and therapeutic teaching with veterans. Early and continuing projects with other noted artists, such as August Rodin, R. Tait McKenzie, and Frank Lloyd Wright, created opportunities to leverage his increasing fame to do what Blai found he loved most — teaching. He believed that everyone can and should work
with their hands, no matter the specific artistic medium, and be exposed as young and often as possible to the idea of artistic expression. From the returning American GIs of World War II to elementary schools in Philadelphia and New York City, Blai — a veteran of the horrors of World War I trench warfare — knew first-hand how art could unlock the spirit and the soul of those disconnected from it. That belief also extended to himself, once a young student at the feet of Rodin in Paris, and later in life, a shattered man reeling from the loss of his teaching position with Temple, the loss of his wife, and the loss of his home at Harvey Cedars. At each crossroads in his life the creative outlet of sculpture allowed his mind, body, and spirit time and an outlet to process all his emotions and find his way forward.
Paying it forward could be described as Blai’s simplest legacy. It was a recurring theme at the core of the particular fond memories shared by those who attended the event.
Director Kerner enjoyed a lengthy career as a teacher and artist at the Tyler School of Arts, getting to see and speak with Blai at times around campus, before transitioning to work full-time with the Foundation he started.
Blai’s former student Stuart Mark Feldman credited his teacher with the lessons needed to become a noted sculptor in his own right and an educator at the Pennsylvania Acad-
emy of Fine Arts. Feldman’s close to life size bronze bust of Blai was on display.
Writer Reilly Platten Sharp is an arts graduate of Bucks County Community College, located at the former home of Stella Tyler who supported the School of Arts and hosted classes with Blai, and has been greatly influenced by the work of Island artists who honed their craft at the Foundation.
Larry Oliphant and his late grandfather, Joe Willy Oliphant, were personal friends of Blai, a multi-generational friendship that sprang from Blai’s admiration of Joe Willy’s talent as a builder in his construction of the Foundation’s structures. Oliphant displayed Blai’s larger than life bronze bust of his grandfather created to commemorate their friendship along with Blai’s favorite chair from his studio.
A collection of artifacts was on display as examples of how the echo of Blai’s spirit lives on. From busts by and of Blai to relics of his legendary art studios, all evoked the great man.
The highlight was a portrait created and donated by local artist Nancy Edwards in tribute of Blai that has been given a place of honor in the Manya wing along with other art and imagery documenting the history of the Foundation —Reilly Platten Sharp
Opposite page, top row, left to right: Rob; Jack with brother Liam and sister Ava Marie; Katherine, Anthony, and Victoria Middle row, left to right: Monica and Daniel; Everett; Heather Bottom row, left to right: Tyler; Cynthia; Catherine
This page, top row, left to right: Eve with her sisters, Harper, and Hadley, and friend Megan; Eva; Joey and Isabel Bottom row, left to right: Mike; Shelby; Guy
Icaptured these shots on an early morning birding excursion for the New Jersey Audubon World Series of Birding on May 11th. Our crew, "No Time To Fly," led by mentor Jason Kelsey, had planned meticulously for weeks to make the most of our time. We kicked off our day at 12:30 a.m., rolling out from Jackson towards Island Beach State Park. Along the way, a pit stop in Barnegat treated us to some owl hoots, setting our day off just right. Arriving at the park around 4:30 a.m., we were met with the fresh dawn air and the serene sounds of Chuck-Wills-Widows in the distance. As I geared up to start birding, a subtle hue caught my eye. To our utter amazement, the aurora borealis made a surprise appearance, casting its colorful spectacle on the background of the Big Dipper. I wasted no time grabbing my phone to capture the moment, each snap etching the magic into memory. The site, a testament to nature’s unpredictability and beauty, left us all speechless. As the sun rose, we pressed deep into the maritime forest, eager for more discoveries. By nightfall the next evening, our efforts paid off, tallying up an impressive count of 129 species and landing us a respectable third place in our category. But it was not the accolades that stuck with us; it was the shared wonder of witnessing something extraordinary in our own backyard. Encountering the aurora in New Jersey was an unforgettable moment, a reminder of the wonders waiting to be discovered if we go out and enjoy nature. —Written and photographed by Tyler Steinbrunn, age 15, freshman at the Marine Academy of Technology and Environmental Science. Tyler is an amateur photographer and birder.
One love that is completely shared by two, Endless sunrises that I’ve watched with you, Sharing the beauty from each sunrise to sunset, I wouldn’t change a thing since the day that we met.
Hope, strength and serenity magically paints the sky, As a tear or two of gratitude falls slowly from our eye, Our plans and dreams are reflected upon at this time, Every beam like a new canvas in the sky as they shine.
You’ve given me so very much throughout our years, We’ve shared so much laughter and our share of tears,
The beach at sunrise is such a peaceful and serene place, A place to thank God for his abundant Amazing Grace!
Thanks for being my "Endless Love" each and everyday, May the light of the sun continue to guide us along our way
Each sunrise is a new promise as we gaze up into the sky,
To treasure all of our years of memories made here on LBI.
—Written and photographed by Diane Stulga. Dedicated to her husband Vic, inspired by their wedding song is "Endless Love."
T HE S AME W IND
On Long Beach Island the winter wind is like no other wind you may have experienced. I don’t mean the hurricane winds, or the nor’easter winds. I mean the everyday, in your face, take your breath away, hold on to the car door, chase the mail down the street, don’t even think of an umbrella in rain – kind of wind
It doesn’t come as a visitor, it’s a regular. Knows its way around; how to rock houses on pilings, put white-caps on the bay, and stand flags at attention. At night, if you’re prone to insomnia, when all should be quiet, you hear it whistle through the bedroom walls like a symphony flutist reaching for high C.
And when, just briefly, you think, ‘Not one more day’, crocus struggle through sandy soil, the island begins its move to summer mode and the wind, that chafing winter wind, becomes a soft, salt-air suitor, who lures beachcombers across a five-mile bridge, and welcomes them on hot summer nights disguised as a prodigal, gentle sea breeze.
—Written by Nancy Kelly Kunz
Photography by Lisa Atkins
COYOTES AND THE BEACH AT DARK
You sneak like keen sunset pelted lopers who know the shifting starlit dunes by scent. Something skittish pitches sand. Fervent beau has sheathed his poignant bow mid-note. Changed are they then, as waves oblique to wind.
Whelps fidget beneath the upturned boat you fixed one season on canvas but don’t yet know if it be blessing a bungalow wall or hiding something, a pitted panel, a seeping stain, which has with love trapped time while all around it changed.
—Written by John Chmura Photographyby
Keith Holley
HEAL NOT JUST ONE HEART
It is said, if you can heal the ache in one heart, Then you have not lived in vain.
If you can help one soul through hardship, Then meaning in your life is gained.
But one heart, it seems to me, Is not nearly sufficient; One forlorn soul, whoever it may be, Is still deficient.
The world’s supply of heartache Knows no bounds.
Hardship and sorrow can forever Be found.
Heal not just one heart, But many.
Help not just one soul, But any.
Help as many hearts in pain
As you are able to.
Then you shall not have lived in vain, For only one will not do.
—Randy RushSAILING
Leaving the harbor to sail the ocean blue
An exhilarating feeling of adventure ensues,
Listening as the rocks are sprayed with water, Breathing in the sea air and wind,
Drifting rhythmically riding the waves
Refreshing mist kisses our skin,
Slicing through the reflective water
Sunshine bounces off the mirror like glass,
Cruising along, this sea faring escape
Brings about a sense of heightened freedom,
Seagulls follow paving a path in the sky
While pods of dolphins entertain,
Navigating and floating, we return to shore
With renewed spirit having had this respite.
—Maureen Newman
How do you break open, A sea shell, Closed tightly, At the bottom of the endless ocean?
Turbulence and waves have only Made it stronger. Sitting there, among the rocks, You could easily mistake it for one. Yet, it carries a secret centuries old, A tale waiting to be told. Kindness, innocence and joy, a child-like heart
Beating to the sound of the waves. A pearl of emotion, sincerity and tenderness.
Its white glow
Helped the sea life communicate, In the darkest of nights. Its white glow
Became a light. Misunderstood, she didn’t quite fit in, On the contrary, She stood out from all the sea life, And as you can imagine, That brought great strife. All you could hear was Mermaid’s laughter, Envy growing deep. The pearl no longer had a home In the ocean, So she created her own, Deep within the armor of her shell She felt all alone.
—Written by Nikoleta Dervisevic Photography by Nina Herbst
Standing on the slippery green algae-entombed jetty where black flat slabs jigsawed somehow into place protect the edge.
Indiff’rent to the mighty strike of ceaseless surf they sit scrubbed clean, shining jet wet above the drink. Aquatic floral fluffs below the foam cling with fastened feet to wash their streaming locks. Waving in the drift afloat they transform dull, lifeless rocks on which they dance seductively the rhythms of the temptress tide.
Where the inlet yields; opening her waiting mouth to entreat the boisterous sea to enter to swell the shallows of the bordered bay with salt fresh hope.
Watching waters come and go sliding by inward/outward they flow; following the edge of flood, where wavelets touch their tips. They pass time and each other on their twice daily ride where fill and empty collide. What do they hide? One wonders, curious as Pandora who gave in to the urge, dared to open her guarded jar...
And evil emptied into the world! Yet hope remained inside to fill the void to be kept safe for all who seek its refuge, waiting to be needed.
On ancient sand, shell-cluttered toward the beach I saunter while wisdom sits cross-legged somewhere beyond steel morning clouds. The distant sky draws closer reaching for the earth. Her slender fingers curl about silent vapors on which the children of water are borne again into the heaving ocean’s heavenly reign above and gather, waiting in turn to rain back down into the wet womb of life as the cycle continues…
—Written and photographed by Joe Guastella
Her beautiful face
Smooth and glowing
Grinning and smiling
Laughing and growing
Has marks of wear and tear
Eyes deep like oceans
Sparkling on the surface
But dark and rocky below
Lips like shells
Smooth
Both only from waves crashing over and over
Cheeks
Burned by the sun
Forehead
Cut by the tide
She’s beautiful
In the way a lonely pirate is after finding gold
And realizing there’s no one to share it with
In the way a fisherman watches his friends go back home to their families
Then turning around and walking home alone with nothing but his cap in his hand
In the way a siren is
Wanting love but never being truly loved in return
Her beautiful face
Worn by the ocean
Like sea glass
Making her even more beautiful.
—Cora June Einhorn
It was a moderate winter while you were away. There was only one partial freeze of the bay. The dramatic pictures of Barnegat waters when frozen over will have to wait for another winter and no one complained when the temperatures did not dip too far below freezing. And while we were lucky with snow and ice last winter, the wind seemed endless, day after day. Mother Nature has a unique sense of humor.
The Ship Bottom Christmas Parade filled the borough with its usual holiday spirit. Echoes of LBI Magazine writer Diane Stulga and her husband, Victor, took second place for their jaunty yellow hot rod, adored with holiday wreaths and Disney and Peanuts characters in their festive attire.
Some stores closed; some new businesses opened. Some buildings were torn down; making way for new mixed-use buildings to go up. A skate park will have to wait. Pickle ball still reigns supreme.
The popularity of dining alfresco at Island restaurants continues to grow. Offshore wind turbines were front and center in the news throughout the off-season as was the Ship Bottom Elementary school.
That’s what you missed while you were gone. —Maggie O’Neill
Cold gray skies and freezing temperatures were the perfect backdrop for the warmth and sparkle of The Garden Club’s Holiday House Tour. Held on Thursday, December 7, 2023, more than 1200 visitors bundled up and stood in line to take in the holiday spectacle of five houses brilliantly decorated in the splendor of nature by Garden Club members.
A feast for the eyes and a full-year production, the tour brings to life the creativity and skill of The Garden Club. The event has been held annually since 196l when tickets were $2 and visitors were asked to not wear spiked heels. Now everyone wears soft slippers as they pad through the houses at their leisure.
Along the way, the Boutique at the Surf City firehouse did not require a ticket and was filled with arrangements of greens brought in from the gardens of club members. Alongside was a tour favorite of tasty homemade holiday cookies baked in members’ kitchens. Local vendors brought in luxurious cold weather gear, seashore art and handmade jewelry all arranged for gift shoppers.
The Holiday House Tour is one of two fundraisers that support The Garden Club’s amazing, Island-wide program of
community service. Included in this important work is the protection, preservation, and management of the natural environment of LBI, maintenance of three public gardens, garden therapy, and services for seniors, scholarships for local high school students, programs for young children, and contributions to like-minded organizations throughout the Island and mainland.
The Garden Club also brings the Outdoor Living, Garden Tour and Art Show to the Island in the summer, as the second part of its fundraising program. —Gillian Rozicer
The 57th holiday house tour is scheduled for December 12, 2024. Tickets will be available on the club's website thegardencluboflbi.com
LBI FLY features giant kites, including a full size whale, fairytale creatures, flying scuba divers, sports, and so much more! Events throughout the weekend include a Mayor’s Cup Kite Battle with all six LBI mayors, a night fly at Barnegat Lighthouse, a kite garden installation by local school children, indoor kite flying demonstrations, children’s kite making, kite buggy rides, and a special candy drop. This event is free to the public. Shuttles will be running throughout the weekend. For more information visit lbifly.com
It was a lackadaisical day on the beach and the man had lollygagged the afternoon away with a good book. No worries, no pressure, a divine dullsville. Then out of the corner of his shaded eye he saw a young whippersnapper surfer dude, board safelocked under his arm, as he picked his way across the afternoon sand - a bit of hot-hoppin’ in his step. But there was nothing namby-pamby about him. He was hustling. No time to kibitz with the guys with waves braking deep. He secured his ankle doohickey, then, lickety-split straight into the water to nail a priority spot. Eight strong strokes and an expeditious duck-dive got him there. Patiently he eyed the set, the break was on, he went for air, dropped, tucked into the crest, and cut all the way back to the toe-tips of an applauding hodgepodge of admirers wading in the kiddie-pool-warm water of the sandbar.
—Nancy Kelly Kunz
Irecently watched, with attendant goose bumps, a movie about the making of the song from which those lyrics were taken and wrote them down. Once I had done so, it occurred to me that the three-dotted ellipsis at the end of the last line leaves something unsaid for the reader, or listener to figure out. For me there was a challenge voiced in that chorus — an acknowledgement that it is our chance, our opportunity, to make a better day, “just you and me”— together! The statement rings as true today as it did thirtynine years ago.
In 1985, the entire world came together across TV screens, concert halls and outdoor gatherings to join in singing the song above. It was the anthem, the spark that lit the fire of compassion, raising awareness, spreading the message of suffering that was occurring in Africa. It may be naive to say that music has the power to change the world. However, there is just something about music that can reach into your soul and draw out the belief that you can be more than you are.
Those of you who were lucky enough to attend Compassion Cafe's presentation of GREASE at the Stafford Township Arts Center on May 1st know the feeling. The sounds of singing, laughter and collaboration which required every participant’s care and attention definitely plucked at the collective heartstrings of everyone there.
Compassion Cafe was introduced to the general public three years ago, in March 2021. We made our debut on the pages of Echoes of LBI Magazine in spring of 2022. This is our fourth issue, and it is still an absolute thrill to be included in this extraordinarily well-crafted publication. We offer thanks to publisher Cheryl Kirby and her truly dedicated corps of staff professionals and contributors as they continue to help spread the word of our growing community of caregivers and recipients. That community was born out of a desire to make a tiny piece of our complex, troubled world, our 18-mile-long fragile slice of shoreline and sand dunes, that confronts the mighty Atlantic, a little better. The founders and
organizers wrote the framework for their vision down on paper. They put out a call to families of special needs teens and adults, as well as to folks with a yearning to volunteer, to come aboard. They rolled up their sleeves and went to work. In our introductory article in Echoes, we spoke of Hope as being a fragile thing, yet something that we could count on to carry us through difficult times. We now revisit the Cafe coming up to its fourth season in operation.
Compassion Cafe 2024 — the need is still here! The intangible, uplifting feeling that Compassion Cafe provides to the community has not waned. Initially, there was COVID, and the Cafe offered a way out of isolation, of differences of opinion which caused rifts in families and friendships, a way out of cynicism and a focus for our energies and innate desire to come together as social creatures. It was a welcome change during a time of domestic political and social unrest and confrontation. We look to the Cafe to provide a space for self-esteem, acceptance, for the opportunity to work, to speak, to be heard, to be listened to.
We have friends and neighbors in our retirement community who get excited, even moved to tears to come to the Cafe for a cup of coffee, to hear a song or fill out a survey, to pick up a bag of homemade dog treats, t-shirt, ball cap, or bumper sticker; all of which are emblazoned with the coffee cup and heart logo that shows support for and inclusion in our growing family of believers.
Co-Founder Sue Sharkey’s words:
“As we enter into our 4th year, some might think the honeymoon is over.... we were a novelty when we opened- … But we're as strong as ever! I witness it every time the staff gets together…We (have a) wholehearted belief in…the possibilities for all the people in our employ. Which makes us so much more than a job… our donors (and the Sea Shell) continue to finance our crazy idea of overemployment and tell me they are better people because they have witnessed our little cafe with extraordinary customer service in action. We're here to stay- I’m working on our ten-year plan... who's with me?”
In 2023, Compassion Cafe was honored to be named Employer of the Year by the NJ Chapter of the National Association of People Supporting Employment First. It was an honor, to be sure, but it does not answer the question of why we do what we do. We believe that winning is not determined by score, but by participation. Yes, participation is the key. Participation equals winning. When I say “We,” I do not only mean our wonderful, growing staff of trained customer service representatives and their families. We are a community. We welcome new members. There is a place for everyone who wants to participate, to whatever extent their time and abilities will allow. —Written and photographed by Joe Guastella
Our staff has grown from about thirty employees in the first season to eighty as of September 2023. Our vital volunteer corps has grown right alongside as well. We need each other to move forward. We need customers, donors, interviewers, aides, mentors, nurses, teachers, folks with ideas, organizers, supporters, listeners more than talkers, drivers, buggy-luggers, smilers and, yes, even though we are full-up with teary-eyed onlookers, we need more of those who are moved to tears by what they witness at the Cafe. So, dear reader if you are curious, why not come on down to:
Compassion Cafe at the Oceanfront Sea Shell Resort 10 S. Atlantic Ave, Beach Haven Tuesday, May 14 through Thursday, September 12, 7am till 11am
Compassion Cafe seeks the integration of teens and adults with intellectual and developmental disabilities through paid part-time summer employment in a small coffee shop environment with free hands-on training and ongoing support in an atmosphere of joy, community, love, and unconditional acceptance. By providing meaningful employment our employees gain independence, self-confidence, and work skills for future success. Compassion Cafe is a 501(c)(3) partnering with local businesses in a true, non-profit model.
Judy G R e GG and her husband, Joe, of Britton Falls, Indiana were staying at their LBI cottage when Judy decided to participate in the attempt to break the Guinness World Record for the Most People Blowing Conch Horn Simultaneously at Things A Drift in Ship Bottom during the annual LBI Sea Glass & Art Festival on October 5, 2019. “I don’t remember what song we played,” said Judy. “But I know we did it.” Indeed, she and the LBI community came together, succeeded, and still hold the Guinness World Record. Recently, Judy shared her story with Stroll Magazine. Not only did the magazine love her story, but she made it to the front cover.
Laura and Joe Hutchison started Hu TCH i SO n Fi B e RG l ASS P OO l S in 2003. Their son, Joe Jr. would go on to become partner and co-owner in 2017. Through hard work, integrity, and an unparalleled commitment to their customers — Hutchison Fiberglass Pools became and continues to be the premier fiberglass pool company of Ocean County.
Today, more than two decades later, Hutchison Fiberglass Pools is an award-winning family business. These days, Joe Jr. and Laura’s two daughters, Alyssa and Nicole, Laura’s father, Al Vero, and Olivia McKitterick, a close friend who is like a third daughter, are all part of the Hutchison’s in-office team.
From day one, maintaining their commitment to upholding the highest degree of integrity and professionalism has always been and continues to be the Hutchison family’s highest priority. When customers choose Hutchison Fiberglass Pools they become part of the family.
Under the direction of Joe Sr. and Nicole Hutchison the installation department is dedicated to turning the backyard of each customer into a personal oasis. Together with a well-trained crew and a relentless commitment to excellence they successfully make dreams of outdoor living come true.
On the service side of the company, Joe Jr. and Olivia have put together an outstanding service department. With an unsurpassed response time to any issue and an all-inclusive service program — Hutchison’s provides weekly service to more than 350 pools and opens and closes more than 500 pools annually.
The Hutchison family of Hutchison Fiberglass Pools is mindful of giving back to their community in many ways. They believe you can only be as good as the community you are a part of.
When it comes to transforming your outdoor space into a beautiful, functional, and well-maintained retreat, choosing the right contractor makes all the difference. Unlike some companies that specialize in just one aspect of a project, Je RS ey S HOR e PAve RS is a full-service company — specializing in hardscape and landscape design and installation, lighting, irrigation, and property maintenance. With this integrated approach your project flows smoothly from start to finish.
Founded in 2005 by Ocean County natives, Brian Sullivan and Alex Scherer, Jersey Shore Pavers is committed to delivering quality services, and excellent customer care. Brian and Alex work closely with each customer to determine how they want to use their outdoor space and help them explore ideas and options available to achieve those goals.
By offering a full range of services your project benefits from seamless collaboration, good communication, streamlined coordination and consistency in the high quality of workmanship that Jersey Shore Pavers brings to all projects. From design to installation then onto maintenance customers can rely on their expertise, commitment to quality and dedication to customer satisfaction.
Jersey Shore Pavers is a family and friend owned business. Founders Brian Sullivan and Alex Scherer are proud to work where they live and are raising their families. As role models for their children, they believe in the importance of giving back to their communities. Brian and Alex are active in their communities as members of volunteer services, youth sport coaching, and participation in local fund-raising events.
Michele Foulke wanted to get away to LBI. Her husband, Bob, had passed two years ago and September 18th would have been their thirtieth wedding anniversary.
Not wanting to be alone, Michele asked her cousin, Justine DiNardo Lim, to join her. Justine was grieving as well. There had been so much loss in the past few years; Michele’s father, Bobby, in 2019, her husband, Bob, in 2019, and then her Aunt Doris, Justines’s mother. The cousins are very close. They supported each other through it all.
Michele and her mom, Diane Vagianos, booked rooms for the weekend at Hotel LBI. Diane found an article about the Green Bench in an edition of Echoes of LBI Magazine that was in her room at Hotel LBI. She insisted that Michele and Justine find the bench to sit and reflect. The cousins agreed that this was something they would do together. However, the article did not list where the bench was located, only that it was at the top of the beach in Ship Bottom.
So, on September 18th Michele and Justine started at 28th Street and went to each beach entrance looking for the bench. When they took a break Justine called the magazine and left a message. They received a return call with the location along with a request that they take a photo of themselves at the bench for the magazine. And that is where the fun part of their journey began. With both of them sitting on the bench there was no one to take the photo. So, they propped up a cell phone and set the timer on the camera.
They tried a few times. But each time — just as it was ready to shoot the photo — the phone fell to the ground. Michele insisted it was her husband, Bob, causing the phone to fall. Now, instead of sadness, Michele and Justine could not stop laughing.
You see; reflection, grief, or whatever this bench brings you is peace and a moment in time where you are not alone; your loved ones are always around you. —Michele Foulke and Justine Dinardolim
April showers did, indeed, bring May flowers. The Youth Committee of The Garden Club of LBI met at the Surf City library on Wednesday, May 15th to create seasonal arrangements of flowers that attract pollinators.
Locally sourced euonymus greens formed the foundation in a cute tin flower container. Purple daisies, dainty asters, lavender stock, and the star among pollinators, the sunflower, were included. A ceramic bee topped each arrangement.
Each young designer was given the same greens and flowers to work with, yet each took home a unique creation. Packets of sunflower seeds and colorful UV protective sunglasses were given to the participants to encourage them to plant and tend their gardens with pollinator-loving plants all summer long.
The Garden Club’s Youth Committee chair is Jeannette Michelson of Barnegat Light. Members of The Garden Club who assisted were Pauline Gertzen and Sue Warren.
This was the final Youth Committee gathering for the current school year. Meetings will begin again in the fall of 2024. —Gillian Rozicer • Photography by Jeannette Michelson
The Ivanov Group is a select team of dedicated real estate professionals serving Bergen and Ocean Counties. Experienced luxury investment specialists, The Ivanov Group provides invaluable expertise and guidance from acquisition to execution and sale.
As the founder of The Ivanov Group at Keller Williams Realty, Dianna Ivanov specializes in investment properties in the luxury, new construction, and development markets. She is highly regarded for her talent in identifying exclusive investment opportunities, conducting project analysis, and implementing distinctive marketing strategies. Dianna collaborates closely with builders and developers to ensure projects reach profitable completion. Built on mutual trust these relationships allow her to bring the best professionals to her client’s projects.
Beyond real estate, The Ivanov Group is dedicated to bringing awareness to the underserved and making a difference within the community.
With a commitment to advancing the role of women in business and industry, Dianna hosts “Women: A Seat at the Table,” a series of events held at community venues designed to empower women through crucial discussions about business, personal finance, and personal growth.
Dianna’s commitment to her clients is illustrated poignantly by the dedicated team of diversely talented professionals she has assembled to form The Ivanov Group.
Buyer’s agent, Army veteran Leyla McGinn is dedicated to assisting fellow veterans in their goals for homeownership. As Director of
Keller Williams Military in The Ivanov Group, Leyla is committed to educating the veterans community about VA benefits through hosting Veterans Association Mastermind seminars and training.
Stafford Township residents, Marybeth Weidenhof and Keith Weidenhof have more than thirteen years of experience in commercial and residential real estate. Having raised her family here Marybeth has been active in her community for more than three decades through her involvement with The Special Olympics, assisting senior citizens and supporting the arts.
Samantha Cole is licensed in New Jersey and New York. With a background in luxury marketing and small business ownership, Samantha is a skilled negotiator and brings a unique perspective to showcasing her client’s properties. Dedicated to achieving the best results, Samantha builds a genuine connection with her clients, taking the time to understand their unique needs.
As head of the commercial division of The Ivanov Group, Rich Loniewski works with investors to identify profitable projects, guiding them through the challenging investment market. Rich’s background in the lending and investment industry and his experience and perspective are invaluable for even the most seasoned investor.
Committed to giving back, Rich provides mentorship and coaching for new investors.
We are members of the National Association of Home Builders, Women in Building Council, Professional Women in Building, National Association of Women in Construction, and Women in Residential and Commercial Construction. Also on the board of Family Promise of the Jersey Shore and Covenant House.
Echoes of LBI Magazine – Cheryl Kirby, 2024 Recipient of The Ocean County Cultural & Heritage Commission Special Award of Merit in recognition of extraordinary achievements and contributions to the quality of life in Ocean County through her magazine, Echoes of LBI. The commission honored Kirby for publishing Echoes of LBI to keep local history alive and to promote local artists, photographers, poets and authors, and for providing the magazine for free thereby making the heritage of LBI accessible to the broader public; and recognized the magazine as a reverberation of the people, places, and arts that have shaped LBI over the years that is dedicated to retelling the memories of those who have lived, vacationed, and love LBI as well as publishing the artwork of local artist and photographers, and poetry about LBI. To all our contributors who make this magazine possible, thank you! —Photography by Maggie O'Neill
BRAd ZiFFeR, a native of West Orange, New Jersey, fell in love with LBI as a teenager while summering in Surf City.
Now a successful singer, voice-actor, pianist, and producer, with his own record label, Starlux Records, Brad has his own recording studio where he records voice-overs, and produces, mixes, and masters music for himself and others. His love of oldies and Doo-Wop reaches far and wide. His cover of Bobby Rydell's hit, “Wildwood Days,” is currently available for streaming and digital download.
Brad recently relocated to Manahawkin with hopes of finding the ideal spot for his son to attend school and grow in a family-oriented, healthy environment within close proximity to the beach.
This October, Brad will be performing at the LBI Sea Glass & Art Festival at Things A Drift in Ship Bottom, New Jersey. For information on his upcoming performances, and to hear some of his music, follow him on Facebook, YouTube and Instagram @BradZifferProductions and bradziffer.com.
Brad loves God, the shore, being a dad, and being creative. He now lives where his heart has been calling him all along.
inGRedienTS
1 cup plain flour
1 cup softened butter
1/2 cup confectioner’s sugar
1/2 cup cornstarch
One teaspoon salt
One or two teaspoons natural vanilla extract
di R e CT i O n S
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Bake 20 minutes. Combine the dry ingredients in a large bowl. Use a pastry cutter or fork to cut in the butter and vanilla and lightly bring the mixture together until it resembles breadcrumbs. Take care not to over mix. Tip out onto
Buttery, rich, with a melt-in-the-mouth texture, this shortbread is said to have been the favorite of the late Queen Elizabeth II when at Balmoral Castle in Scotland. Though fit for royalty, it is simple to make and calls for standard ingredients. Cornstarch is the key to this delicate shortbread that crumbles into buttery perfection with every bite.
a lightly floured surface and gently knead to form a dough. Press the dough into a parchment lined 10 x 10 glass baking dish. To form the classic shortbread shape, use a sharp knife to divide the dough down the center. Then cut each half into five equal rectangles.
Use a fork to prick the surface of the shortbread all over and bake for around 20 minutes until the shortbread is a light sandy color. Shortbread should not be browned. Once baked, remove from the oven and use a sharp knife to gently re-score the surface of the shortbread while it is still hot. This will allow the cooled shortbread to break apart more accurately. Gently remove the shortbread from the baking dish after it has cooled. When completely cooled, separate the shortbread and dip each section in melted ruby chocolate. Place on parchment paper until set. —From the kitchen of Susan Spicer-McGarry
Charles Ruby Chocolate available at Things A Drift in Ship Bottom, NJ
All I do the whole day thru, is dream of chocolate. Morning, noon, and nighttime, too, I dream of chocolate…Ruby chocolate: red-pink color, fruity bouquet, velvety, semi-sweet, exotic, and complex with delicate undertones of sun ripened strawberries, fresh sour notes and a fleeting malt finish. —Susan Spicer-McGarry
A gift of nature that surprises and delights with its exceptional natural red-pink color, perfect tension between cacao and berry fruitiness, and luscious smoothness, ruby chocolate is the most uncommon chocolate, born from the ruby cocoa beans that thrive in Brazil, Ecuador and the Ivory Coast. An entirely new chocolate experience without added color or flavoring. Discovered in 2004 by Belgian-Swiss cocoa company, Barry Callebaut and introduced in 2017 as the fourth natural chocolate, ruby chocolate is a new addition to the traditional dark, milk, and white chocolate varieties.
Perfect crab cakes should be brimming with quality crab meat. And for those purists who prefer their crab cakes without added fillers this receipt is all crab.
inGRedienTS
1/4 cup light mayonnaise
2 teaspoons dijon mustard
1 teaspoon horseradish
1 large egg
1 large egg yolk
1/4 cup Parmesan cheese
1 teaspoon onion powder
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 tablespoon dried parsley
1/2 teaspoon Old Bay seasoning
12 ounces fresh jumbo lump crab meat
1 tablespoon melted butter
1 fresh lemon cut into wedges
diReCTiOnS
Wisk together the mayonnaise, horseradish, mustard, egg, and egg yolk. Add in the dry ingredients and blend well. Gently fold in the crab; taking care not to break up the lumps of meat. Divide the crab mixture into four portions. For appetizers, divide the mixture into six portions.
Shape into balls and place them on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper or an oven-proof silicone mat. Use the palm of your hand to slightly flatten each ball to form a cake. Brush or drizzle each crab cake with melted butter. Bake at 400° for 20 to 25 minutes or until golden brown. Plate and serve hot with a wedge of fresh lemon and the sauce of your choice. Serves four as an entrée or six as an appetizer. —From the kitchen of Mary Anne Himmelsbach
3 cups of cleaned, fresh bluefish
1/2 cup diced sweet onions
2 egg whites
2/3 cup of blue cheese
1/4 cup heavy cream
Sauté onions in coconut oil until translucent. Put bluefish in blender and set on chop for forty seconds. In medium to large mixing bowl, add all ingredients, and mixing well.
Form into patties, and cook for three to four minutes on each side, turning carefully. Garnish with salad greens and lemon.
Skates and rays are common in the waters of the Atlantic Ocean and along the shorelines of New Jersey. When not swimming these flat cartilaginous fish can be found buried in the sandy bottom waiting for their next meal or hiding from predators seeking to make a meal of them.
Rays and skates are oddly configured with mouths, nostrils, and gill slits on the underside of their bodies; eyes and breathing holes are on their upper side. Skates and rays are elasmobranchs; their skeletons are made from flexible strong cartilage rather than bone. Their flattened wing-like bodies allow them to glide with ease and great speed through the water.
Similar in appearance, skates and rays are frequently mistaken for one another. However, there are physical differences that easily distinguish them.
• Rays are generally larger than skates. Skates have a prominent nose-like structure known as a rostrum at the front of their flat body giving it an elongated triangular shape. Skates have a thick shorter tail with a dorsal fin at the tip.
• Rays are generally diamond shaped with distinct wing-like pectoral fins. Rays have longer whip-like tails with a caudal barb located at the base.
• Aside from their appearance, skates and rays reproduce differently. Skates are oviparous, meaning their young develop in egg sacks called mermaids purses while rays give birth to live fully formed young.
• Many species of skates live in cool waters, rays prefer warm water temperatures.
Clearnose Skate (Raja eglanteria) has an average length of thirtythree inches and a translucent snout. They are seen from late spring until early fall when water temperatures are between 50 and 70 degrees fahrenheit.
• Both skates and rays have modified placoid scales for crushing crustaceans, molluscs, and fish. Skates have small pointed teeth, while rays have dental plates with rows of small, flat teeth.
• Both skates and rays have an important role in the ecosystem of the Atlantic Ocean.
Some species of skate and ray commonly found in the waters of the new Jersey coast include:
little Skate (Leucoraja erinacea) are found mostly in estuarine habitats from Sandy Hook to the Delaware Bay. Mature adults are generally sixteen to twenty inches long.
Winter Skate (Leucoraja ocellata) one of the largest skates found in the coastal waters of New Jersey with an average size of thirty to forty inches in length. They are known to be most active between October and early June.
Cownose Ray (Rhinoptera bonasus) is the most common ray observed along the New Jersey coast from May to October and tends to migrate along the Atlantic coast to feed and give birth. They head south in the fall in large schools, sometimes numbering in the thousands. With a kite-shaped body and whip-like tail they are known to jump out of the water creating a loud smacking sound as they dive back in.
Bullnose Ray (Myliobatis freminvillii) has large broad pectoral fins with sharp points and a thin snout and grows to be twenty-four to twenty-eight inches across. Watercolors and story by Nancy Edwards
Best Overall Saturday: David Introini, uranium glass, NY
Best Overall Sunday: Isabel Mullooly, red dice, NJ
People's Choice Saturday: Doreen Rhoads-White, violin-shaped perfume bottle, LBI
People's Choice Sunday: Susan McCormack, amberina wine glass stem piece, NJ
Best Overall Fossil or Artifact: Chase K., fossil great white tooth, LBI
Guess the Glass: Nadine Gunchak, guessed 1234, actual total 1233
The old saying “one person's trash is another person's treasure” could not be truer for the glass collecting community, albeit antiques, sea glass, or both. One form of trash which has captivated the hearts of collectors was once seen as waste from the glass making process. Sometimes it can be found in large chunks, other times beautifully fashioned into whimsical collectibles. This fabulous treasure with a terrible name is slag glass.
WHAT'S in A WORd
The word slag does not have the best meaning in some situations. In the case of glass and iron manufacturing, it refers to the amalgam of chemicals and impurities that floated on the top of the molten material or got stuck to the sides of the furnace, and after the day was done, was scraped out and discarded. Slag is often confused for cullet which are large chunks of glass used by the glass factories to supplement their glass stock. Early cullet may have also included broken or imperfect pieces from a previous batch, as well as bottles purchased back from the public in an early version of recycling. These were then added to existing formulas and melted into new pieces. However, there are two types of glass slag: glass from the end of the day, and pieces that were purposely made by blending assorted colors of glass.
the glass batch. This created the trademark marbled effect seen in most slagware. As the popularity of these pieces grew, batches of glass were intentionally mixed with milk glass to create distinctive bands of color. This created extraordinary, swirled patterns that were as unique to each piece as fingerprints. Early colors were often purple with white swirl, but quickly included other colors such as amber, green, and blue. Today, these pieces are highly sought after by collectors.
American factories also began producing the wonderfully swirled glass. In 1881, cousins Harry Northwood and Thomas Dugan immigrated to Indiana, Pennsylvania from England. In 1902 they took over the Hobbs Bruckenier Glassworks in Wheeling, West Virginia and made their slagware called “mosaic glass.” Around the same year, Challinor, Taylor, and Company also started creating their brand of slag glass made by swirling two colored glass batches together. They quickly grew into one of the most prolific slagware producers in the United States. Other companies would soon follow, including L.G. Wright, Westmoreland, and perhaps most well-known, Fenton.
THe START OF SOMeTHinG BeAuTiFul
Slag glass became a medium used to create beautiful decorative glassware and household dishware. Glass makers usually referred to this kind of slag as malachite, variegated, or marbled glass. First created in northeast England in the 1850s and continuing through the 1890s, companies including Sowerby's Ellison Street Glassworks, Henry Greener's Wear Flint Glassworks, and George Davidson & Company, Ltd. made malachite glass by pulverizing iron slag from blast furnaces and mixing the silicate material into
FAMOuS MAKeRS
Unlike the aforementioned glass companies, The L.G. Wright Glass Company was not a glass manufacturer. Rather, Wright designed and patented several molds for pressed glass pieces. Many of his designs include nesting animals, cups, toothpick holders, ashtrays, and pitchers which have since become highly collectable. Wright also patented several covered dishes including the Atterbury duck, first made in the 1950s. He contracted companies, such as Westmoreland and Fenton, to produce the glassware for him using his molds.
The Westmoreland Specialty Company, founded in 1889 by brothers Charles H. and George R. West, originally made candy and mustard containers in clear and milk glass. Over the years the com-
pany adapted to the changing needs desires of society and added more colors to their manufacturing. Westmoreland began its run of marbled glass in 1972 with only two options, purple or green. Eventually this expanded to include amber also called butterscotch or caramel, cobalt blue, orange, and red marbled glass. Some of their molds would later be sold to Fenton.
Not only the most well-known name in glass making, Fenton was also known for their slag pieces. In 1905, Fenton started out as a glassware decorating company. Soon after they built their own factory in Williamstown, West Virginia and began making glassware. Building off the popularity of milk glass in the 1950s, they began producing works with beautiful slag swirls for other companies. In 1968, they reestablished their decorating department, and in the 1970s introduced exotic new colors including Burmese, Rosalene, and Favrene. It was at this time they started producing their own slag assortment and selling it through their catalogs. In 1981, they partnered with the Levay Distributing Company, who had previously contracted Westmoreland and Imperial, for limited edition glass pieces. Fenton’s ad for its run of slag glass read as follows:
and End of Day Glass, depending on the manufacturer. No two pieces of Marble Glass are alike, each reflecting the individuality of the glass craftsman and the inherent individuality of the glass itself.”
Fenton continued making slag pieces into the 1990s. No doubt its popularity was owed in part to how long it remained in the public eye. While most factories were bought out or burned down, Fenton prevailed. However, in 2007 the company announced that it would stop all glass production, and by July 2011, after one hundred and four years, closed its doors for good. The building was demolished and later turned into an elementary school. Today, their pieces are highly collectible, often bringing] high prices at auction. Even chunks of slag from their production runs are sought out by collectors as colorful reminders of the once thriving company. Other famous U.S. slag glass makers include Imperial, Boyd, Mosser, Summit, Degenhart, Akro Agate, and L.E. Smith.
HiSTORiCAl SiGniFiCAnCe
“Through the years, beginning with the first production of variegated colored glass around 1850, "Marble Glass" has had, and will always have, a magical appeal. The luscious shading and intermixing of vibrant colors has had several names over the years, including Slag Glass
When found on beaches, slag can also be an indicator of early glass making that a glass factory may have been located nearby. Most sea glass collectors are familiar with places like Seaham in the United Kingdom and Davenport, California, where glass factories from around the area dumped leftover glass frequently called “end of day” glass into the sea. However, these are not the only places
where slag pieces, often referred to as multis, can be found.
The not-so-secret history of New Jersey is currently washing up on our shoreline. For over two hundred and fifty years, New Jersey was a powerhouse in glassmaking starting in the 1700s with German immigrants who came to find new opportunities in a new land. One of these immigrants was Caspar Wistar. Originally settling in Philadelphia and working in a brass button factory, Wistar often made sales trips to New Jersey. On one trip to Alloway, New Jersey, he noticed the surrounding area of Salem County would be ideal for glassmaking.
Ever the entrepreneur, he set up his glass house in 1739. Though earlier glass houses existed in other parts of the country, they all failed within a few years of opening.
The Wistarburg Glass Works, also known as the United Glass Company, was the first successful glass house in the United States, even producing glass globes for Benjamin Franklin's electrical inventions. Wistar would hire other German immigrants to work in his factory, and with their skill, New Jersey was put on the map for glass making.
By the late 1800s, more than two hundred and twenty-five glass factories were operating around the state, with the majority being in southern New Jersey. The properties of New Jersey's sand, often referred to as “sugar” due to its high silica content, made it ideal for glass working because it did not require extra refinement. As such, glass houses sprang up around rivers and tidal marshes for easy access to the sand, and the waterways provided a good way to distribute their goods. While these companies did not specialize in the marbled version of slag glass, evidence of southern New Jersey's glass industry remains in the refuse they left behind.
As a creative way to use up the glass leftover at the end of the day glass blowers created whimsies such as elegant glass chains, delicate canes, smoking pipes, paperweights or “dumps,” doorstops, bottles,
and marbles; the variety is almost endless. These pieces were so coveted among the blowers, that they often found their whimsy had been stolen by their coworkers if they returned to work late the following day. Whimsies were either given as gifts or sold in stores connected to the glass factory. One of these whimsies, known as the schnapshund (liquor dog), was owned by the granddaughter of Caspar Wistar. According to Mary Mills, Director of Exhibitions & Collections at WheatonArts, “The glass dog has remained at Wistar’s wife’s ancestral home, Wyck Historic House, Garden, and Farm, in Germantown, Philadelphia for generations.” It is currently on loan to WheatonArts.
In 1888, Dr. Theodore Corson Wheaton founded the T. C. Wheaton Glass Factory to make his own bottles and vials for his pharmacy in Millville, New Jersey. From these humble beginnings, one of the largest glass makers in New Jersey was born. In the 1960s, his grandson, Frank H. Wheaton, Jr., was inspired by a visit to the Corning Museum of Glass in New York, which houses some of New Jersey's original glass pieces, to open WheatonArts. The goal was to bring much of New Jersey's glass history back to its home state and display it for everyone to see. Designed after an early 20th century glass town, Wheaton Village was opened to the public in 1970, with the museum following in 1973. Among the many art glass pieces made at Wheaton, perhaps the most well-known are their commemorative bottles. Some were designed after famous antique bottles while others were of their own making and represented important moments in history, such as the Apollo moon landing or presidential elections. They were sold on site at the Wheaton Village gift shop and are still popular among collectors today.
lOST evidenCe FOund
In many cases, chunks of slag and cullet are found in the areas where old glass factories once stood. Along rivers and at former landfills, slag pieces have been rediscovered. Along some parts of the Delaware
Maurice River, where the large majority of glass factories stood. The tragedy left fourteen dead, 2,500 residents homeless, and $3 million in damage, the equivalent of over $38 million today. Many of the factories, as well as the towns, could not afford to rebuild. The remains of the glass furnaces were discarded along the southern shores of New Jersey to act as seawalls. To this day, pieces of the slag from furnace bricks wash up on these beaches.
ClOSeR TO HOMe
Few Long Beach Islanders are aware that there was once a glass factory in Barnegat. Built in 1893 by Benjamin P. Chadwick, the Barnegat Druggist and Hollow-ware Company, or Barnegat Glass Factory for short, was the only glass house in Ocean County. It specialized in bottles and vials for pharmacies and would later expand as its shares were bought by new owners over the years. Unfortunately, it filed for bankruptcy in 1911, and the plant was sold to The Cox and Sons Company of Bridgeton, New Jersey. It closed officially in 1913. More tragedy struck in 1914 when a fire devastated the building. Abandoned, it was demolished around 1920. Slag and whimsies could be found around the site until apartments were built on the site in 2013.
Bay, the only remaining evidence of a once booming industry still guards the shoreline from erosion. While not as rounded as those of Seaham, the sea glass slag found in southern New Jersey can be multicolored, showing swirls of amber, greens, aqua, milk glass, deep violet, golden yellow, or cobalt. Unlike most examples given so far, this mix of colors was not intentional, but rather represents when one batch of glass was cooled and poured over another, effectively creating layers on the furnace walls. While still attached to the bricks, they look like crystal formations, leading some to mistake them as minerals. When a furnace got too choked with slag, it was discarded, much of which is found along the Delaware Bay. Other times it is found in large chunks of a single color, indicating that it was cullet, and thus never used.
Factories can shut down for a number of reasons, but these factors may have played a role in the demise of southern New Jersey’s glass industry. After World War II, many glassmakers struggled to keep up with a very changed market. New imports from overseas and new competitors including plastics were pushing American glass out. But this was not the only threat the coastal glass factories had to worry about, as natural disasters were a part of everyday life on the east coast. In November of 1950, New Jersey was hit by a devastating storm that caused a massive tidal surge. The flooding wiped out many towns, especially along the Delaware Bay and
The history of glass making is all around us, but it can be difficult to see. Written evidence of dumping slag into waterways has yet to be found because in those days companies did not keep records of trash disposal. However, in the past it was common for landfills and dumps to be located along bays and rivers; the same areas where glass factories were frequently located. Storms also washed out a lot of history, and with it, a lost story, only to be found again by avid beachcombers. The slag glass we find tells that story, whether a swirled piece of a decorative dish or a factory's end of the day leftovers, the history is out there, you merely have to find it. Sara Caruso
The C HAMB e R ed nAu T ilu S (Nautilus pompilus) has been a part of our oceans for 480 million years. It gets its name from the compartments that make up its shell. Within this shell is a siphon tube called a hyponome which controls the animal's buoyancy by regulating the air and water in the chambers. This air and water is then pumped out as a form of jet propulsion, allowing the nautilus to swim.
Like all members of the family Nautilidae, the chambered nautilus lives in the largest, most recently produced chamber of its shell. To create a new chamber, the cephlapod extracts calcium and carbonate ions from seawater, and combines them into calcium carbonate. As it grows the chambers become wider near the opening, or apeture.
Nautiluses are nocturnal and opportunistic hunters. Using their sharp beak and strong tentacles, they prey on crustaceans, fish, and also scavenge off deceased animals that drift to the bottom. They are currently listed as highly vulnerable due to low reproductive rates, slow growth to maturity, and overfishing.
The shell on the cover has been pearlized, meaning the natural surface has been polished to reveal the iridescent nacre, or mother of pearl, a common feature of shells found in the Pacific Ocean. Pouring from its apeture like a bountiful cornucopia is a collection of naturally worn Long Beach Island sea glass found by Merry Simmons over several years of beachcombing.
Turn off the news
Turn off your worries
Put aside your chore list
Just for awhile
For it is the time of year
That we take inventory
Of our true purpose
That which is greater than us
Contemplate
Yet nurture self
With compassionate love;
We all know that this life can be difficult at times
Read a book
Take a quiet walk
Say a prayer
Have a proper cup of tea and a scone
At winter solstice the sun stands still (sol sistere)
With earth at a 23.5 degree axial tilt
I am not smart;
I looked it up
Nevertheless, be like the sun.
Be still
It is true that this is the darkest time of year
Yet without this time of stillness
Without this time of quiet presence
We could not fully appreciate the upcoming light
Once rested and with soul nurtured
Once done reflecting on shedding
What no longer serves us
We are prepared to anticipate
New beginnings
New possibilities
New hopes and dreams
New sense of self
Turn off your news
Turn off your worries
Put your chore list aside
Just for awhile
For it is during this time of solstice
That we begin anew
With hopeful vision as in youth
We go within, and we find our light
—Mary McBride Majkut
Close your eyes and picture the scene. If you are old enough, you may even remember. It is the mid-1960s on a warm summer night. You and your friends are hanging outside Jack’s De Luxe Diner in Ship Bottom. Cars are cruising north and south along Long Beach Boulevard, and you are heading into the diner — a converted train car — for a burger and a shake.
From the street corner you hear four guys singing a cappella under the streetlight. Their harmonies make the hairs on your arms stand up as you stop and listen. It is like a scene out of a movie, and for the locals on Long Beach Island, it is a cultural phenomenon that is replicated from the streets of New York City to Philadelphia with a blend of those two metropolises creating a very unique version of this kind of folk music.
A cappella is the oldest form of musical expression which historians believe predates the invention of language itself. As we have evolved through the human epoch, music has always been a part of our experience, and a cappella has morphed and survived as a folk-art form.
Can you hear them? Can you see them snapping their fingers and lifting their faces
to the starlit sky as the tales of young love waft through the evening air? In this case, the quartet calls itself Eddie and the Soundmasters. The original group included Jimmy “Smitty” Smith, Tommy Enna, Charlie Enna, and Eddie Pine. Over the years, just as a cappella has evolved, so too had the makeup of the group. Rodney “Hooder” Hood soon joined as second tenor. Tommy, Eddie, and Charlie moved on. In late 1965 Dave Gagliardi and Kenny Smith joined Jimmy and Rodney and became known simply as The Soundmasters. Members continued to come and go as the years passed, with Jimmy Smith and Rodney Hood remaining constant. Eventually, baritone Steve Romeo, bass Gene Hacker and top tenor John “Beesh” Bishop would form the final version of The Soundmasters, with John joining in 1998, making the ensemble a quintet.
I recently had the opportunity to sit and chat with Rodney Hood and John Bishop at Rodney’s metal shop in West Creek. “Memories are the best thing we have left,” quipped Rodney, who worked during the day fabricating and installing metal roofs, while singing at night. Today he makes lamps, weathervanes, and decorative pieces from sheet metal in his shop with his son, Ryan, who has taken over the family busi-
ness. John still works in the music industry and sings in an oldies/Motown group called Joey D & Johnny B Band. Their love of the music they made and the camaraderie they formed became quite evident as they took turns reminiscing, and though Jimmy Smith was unavailable at the time, he did note, “It was a great time, at that time of my life. We enjoyed harmonizing and learning
new songs.” They seemed well aware of their contribution to the culture of Long Beach Island and the Jersey shore.
Tales were recounted of the many places they performed, both down the shore and in Philadelphia. The Lamppost in Philly, Fuddruckers, Calloways and Sleepy Hollow in Eagleswood and West Creek, Buckalew’s,
When we acquired a building in Ship Bottom, New Jersey for our new restaurant, Burger 25, we were immediately drawn to its unique architecture. The building revealed its rich history as Jack's De Luxe Diner through distinctive curved ceilings. Our research uncovered that it originally featured a train car diner brought from Philadelphia. Over the years, the building had undergone multiple superficial renovations. Determined to honor its heritage, we undertook a comprehensive renovation, stripping back the accumulated layers to reveal and preserve hidden treasures like curved glass windows and structural beams. In homage to its history and to cater to the summertime crowds on LBI, we incorporated a milkshake bar window into Burger 25, celebrating both the building's storied past and the local love for ice cream. The renovation not only restored the building but deepened our appreciation for its unique story and the opportunity to add to its legacy.
—Aidan Vetter
Joe Pop’s and many other LBI venues., cruise ships, and churches, were only a few of the many places they performed. The Soundmasters were in great demand, earning $500 a gig, though charity events often rounded out their itinerary.
The Soundmasters earned respect within the Doo-Wop and a cappella world. Danny and the Juniors, Pat Barrett and the Crew Cuts, The Street Corner 5, and Frankie and the Fashions were among the many acts that the Soundmasters hung with and performed alongside.
But in the very early days, The Soundmasters honed their craft on the street outside of Jack’s De Luxe Diner in Ship Bottom. Eventually,
the owner of the diner invited the boys to sing inside where they got a real taste of what was to come. The crowds loved the vocal group and business was hopping. Soon The Soundmasters branched out to other bars and restaurants on LBI where the demand for their talents grew throughout the area.
Today, Jack’s De Luxe Diner is Burger 25
The Vetter Family purchased the building and property from the owners of Surf Taco, and after some extensive remodeling, reopened as Burger 25 in June of 2023.
As the location at 1915 Long Beach Boulevard in Ship Bottom was undergoing remodeling, the Vetters discovered that behind the walls they were tearing down
was the old train car from the original structure, still intact and quite viable. New walls were put up with the old window frames left open. The curvature of the car's ceiling was also incorporated into the new design, and if you look hard, you can envision the atmosphere of that old train car with a modern look. It seems fitting that this nostalgic design remains as a reminder of the history of the locale, and as you sit and enjoy one of their well crafted burgers, along with a thick, delicious milk shake or root beer float, you may be able to hear the harmonious voices of a cappella out on the street corner, for this very spot was once the home of The Soundmasters. Randy Rush • Photography of the band courtesy of The Soundmasters Archive
Over fifty years ago, dedicated residents of Long Beach Island with a vision to establish a community hospital united. They diligently raised funds to ensure local access to quality health care, culminating in the opening of Hackensack Meridian Southern Ocean Medical Center, originally Southern Ocean County Hospital, in
1972. Today, philanthropy continues to be vital to Southern Ocean Medical Center, exemplified by the upcoming annual Signature Social hosted by the Southern Ocean Medical Center Foundation to raise funds for a significant surgical expansion to address the community’s growing health care needs.
The Southern Ocean Medical Center Foundation will hold its annual Signature Social at The Farm on Main, a new venue, in West Creek on Friday, July 26. Proceeds from this event will contribute to the estimated $31.4 million surgical expansion project, which will modernize the hospital’s surgical suite over a thirty-month period. The expansion includes enlarging six state-ofthe-art operating rooms to over 600 square feet to accommodate a range of procedures and extending the sterile processing department — a critical component of all surgical suites.
Over the past decade, amid substantial residential and commercial growth in Southern Ocean County, the hospital has expanded its services to accommodate the influx of full-time residents, particularly heightened during the COVID-19 pandemic. This project promises to significantly reduce patient wait times.
The upcoming expansion marks the first major upgrade for Southern Ocean Medical Center in twenty years, energizing the community to rally together once again, leveraging philanthropic efforts to advance the founders’ vision.
For tickets or sponsorships, visit GiveHMH.org/SOMCSocial. For more information on supporting the surgical expansion project, contact James Young, executive director of Southern Ocean Medical Center Foundation, at james.young@hmhn.org or 609-978-3040.
When John “Lloyd" Vosseller, Jr. retired in April of 2016 the Borough of Harvey Cedars changed the name of the street where his family has lived for three generations from West 84th Street to Vosseller Way in honor of his forty years of service and the service of three generations of his family.
Vosseller’s family tradition of service to the Borough of Harvey Cedars began with his grandfather, Lloyd M. Vosseller. “My grandfather enjoyed duck hunting on Sandy Island and boating on Barnegat Bay. “In 1925 he purchased property on West 84th Street in Harvey Cedars and built a summer home there in 1929. By 1945, he and my grandmother were full-time residents,” said Vosseller. “My grandfather was one of the original members of the High Point Volunteer Fire Company and a member of the Barnegat Light Yacht Club.”
Vosseller’s father, John Lloyd Vosseller Sr., spent his summers in Harvey Cedars. After receiving a Purple Heart in World War II, he moved to Harvey Cedars in 1945. “My father became the Harvey Cedar building inspector, tax assessor, and commissioner,”
said Vosseller. “After the Great Storm of 1962 he became the superintendent of public works for the borough and worked there until retiring in 1977. He was a life-time member of the High Point Volunteer Fire Company where he held several officer positions. He also served on the board of Southern Regional High School. My mother, Elsie, was the Harvey Cedars tax assessor for twenty years. She also volunteered at a convalescent center in Manahawkin.”
“I am thankful that my grandfather liked duck hunting and boating,” chuckled Vosseller. “It’s what led him to Harvey Cedars and brought me to live here since I was
born; for seventy-four years.” Lloyd has always lived in Harvey Cedars, albeit at six other locations, he and his wife, Terry who volunteers with Harvey Cedars Emergency
Management, currently live in the house his parents built in 1959 on the lot next to his grandparents on West 84th Street. “My mom designed the house, and my father literally built it by hand.”
“Twice I thought about moving,” confided Vosseller. “I was very close to moving to Albany, New York. But I stood there in an apartment overlooking the city thinking, I’m a sand stomper and I don’t belong in the city.” About twenty years ago, he and Terry again considered leaving Harvey Cedars. “We thought about moving to Virginia. But…nah,” laughed Vosseller.
Growing up in Harvey Cedars Vosseller attended LBI Grade School in Ship Bottom and Southern Regional High School. He also attended Ocean County Community College. “As a kid, I was a Cub Scout with Paul Ash, Michael White, and Francis Nooney. In the winter, I went to Sunday school at the firehouse and at Milburn Hall on East 73rd Street and then at the Bible Conference,” said Vosseller. Of the three locations, for Vosseller, Milburn Hall was perhaps the most memorable. “It did not have heat or restrooms,” he mused.
Vosseller also spent time with the VanMe-
ter family and their cousin, Leigh Walker, whose house was destroyed in the 1962 storm. “Leigh liked to fish and crab from our dock. He would come over from his grandfather Ray “Pop” VanMeter’s house two blocks away. Pop was a machinist. He did a lot of lathe work in his garage and there were always metal shavings all over the floor. “I used to hang out in his garage with my friends. But Pop always scooted us out because we were all barefooted.”
Weekends and summers were spent with friends surfing, waterskiing, swimming, fishing, sailing, and going to beach parties. Over
the winter, we just hung out at the Esso gas station in Harvey Cedars,” said Vosseller. From the time he was a teen until the day he retired Vossler worked in Harvey Cedars. “My first summer job was at Houghtons Rowboats — bailing out boats — over and over again,” laughed Vosseller. “Next, I worked as a stock boy at Nooney’s Market. Then I worked at Harvey Cedars Auto.” Eventually, Vosseller went to work for Harvey Cedars Public Works, where he advanced to superintendent. Repairing beach dunes was an important part of the work he did there for forty years. And like his father and grandfather, for the past sixty years Vosseller has served his community as a member and officer of the High Point Volunteer Fire Company.
Remarkably, the Vosseller family continues to serve others: bettering lives, strengthening the community, and building family ties. For this Harvey Cedars family it is a tradition that endures. —Diane Stulga • Photography courtesy of the Vosseller Family
The Ash Wednesday Storm of 1962 occurred on March 5 through 9, 1962. For three of those days and several high tides, Long Beach Island and its residents endured one of the worst and most destructive storms in the Island’s recorded history. It was a nor’easter that would be officially named The Great Atlantic Storm.
At the time, John Lloyd Vosseller, Jr. was thirteen years old and lived with his parents, Lloyd, Sr. and Elsie, and maternal grandfather, Elam K. Woodoth, in Harvey Cedars on 84th Street. On the first day of the storm, like any other teenager, Vosseller’s only thoughts were about whether school was open or closed.
Day One: My mother called Harvey Cedar’s Chief of Police Bob VanMeter’s house and found out school was closed. It was early; I was still in bed feeling good about a day off and had no idea how bad the storm was until I overheard my mom’s phone conversation with Eve VanMeter, the chief’s wife. My mom sounded upset. “What? There’s a mattress floating down your street… It’s bad!” I jumped out of bed and ran up to our attic and looked out the window just in time to see one of the nearby beachfront houses fall into the ocean. I could hardly believe what I was seeing. Frightened, I went to find my dad and found him on our back steps removing debris that was being left behind by the rising ocean water that was swirling through our backyard. When I told him how scared I was he replied, “I’m worried too, son, but don’t let your mother know.’
That night as my mother looked out her bedroom window, she asked about the strange moving lights she could see on the Boulevard. Later we found out the lights were from Salvatore and Dorothea Pinto’s car.
Their house on East 85th Street was getting hit by ocean water and so they tried to drive to our house. It was high tide. Waves were hitting their car — spinning it around! The Pintos and their dog were trapped inside the car. The water was so high they had to sit on the backs of the car seats so they would not drown. When the tide went out enough, they were able to get out of the car and make it to our house. They were wet, cold, and pretty shaken up, but they were safe.
By the next day, telephone service and electric were out and we didn’t
have water. My father and some other men from Harvey Cedars had gone to the High Point Volunteer Fire Company where they were volunteers. I wanted to know what he was doing and what was going on. So, I put on my boots and headed out into the storm to find him. When I got to the firehouse on 80th Street my dad was not there. The men there told me to try the Esso gas station on 78th Street and I headed out into the storm in that direction. At the time, I did not know that erosion from the storm had destroyed the dunes leaving the Island with no protection from wind-driven waves that were as high as forty feet. After several tides, the ocean cut through the Island all the way to the bay. I got as far as 79th Street to find that the water had cut an inlet through the Island from the ocean through to the bay; the Ships Wheel was washed off of its foundation and a house we always called The Wedding Cake House had almost completely fallen over. It was the worst thing I had ever seen, and I ran home crying. When my mother saw me, she thought something had happened to my dad and became very frightened. “What happened to your dad,” she asked. I replied that I did not know but we are never going to live here again.
Later that day, the United States Army evacuated my mother, grandfather, and me by helicopter from the Island to Southern Regional High School on the mainland in Manahawkin. My dad stayed behind at the firehouse. Flying through the storm was scary. But as a teenager, I thought flying in a helicopter was pretty cool. I remember that from the air we could see a lot of destruction and where the ocean cut through to the bay in Harvey Cedars at 79th Street, and snow on the football field at SRHS.
For the next two or three weeks we lived at the high school with a lot of other evacuees. It was not home but we were warm, and The Red Cross kept us fed. After that, we moved to a rental house in Ship Bottom. While we were at SRHS and living at the Ship Bottom rental my mom and other borough officials ran a temporary Borough Hall to hand out passes to Harvey Cedars residents that allowed them to go back to the Island to check on their properties. We lived at the rental house for around a month before we returned to our home in Harvey Cedars. Most people’s houses were lost or damaged. But we were very lucky. Our house was not damaged. But we had a lot of sand and debris to clean up.
At home in Harvey Cedars the wind kept howling and the flood waters kept getting higher. We were cut off from everything. Temperatures had dropped into the 30s, it was snowing, and we were getting cold.
Of course, I was wrong about never living in Harvey Cedars again. —John Lloyd Vosseller, Jr. • Photography courtesy of the Vosseller Family
My enjoyment of history began at an early age. My grandfather, a World War II veteran, made sure I was well versed in the history of this great nation. We regularly visited historic sites and discussed how historical events shaped the locations where they took place.
Around fifteen years ago, I started collecting small artifacts from places where I have lived. Because my hometown of Hightstown, New Jersey has always been known as a farming community I started collecting antique glass dairy bottles. The bottles tell the story of a simpler time when milk was delivered to our homes and the empty bottles were returned to the supplier.
I first learned about the Hy Vita Milk Company bottle from
a 2015 edition of Echoes of LBI Magazine in an article that featured Frank Klein, a pioneer of commerce from Ship Bottom. Founded by Klein in 1941, the company ran a milk delivery service and operated a dairy bar. The article contained a photograph of a Hy Vita Milk Company bottle.
It took four years for me to find a Hy Vita Milk Company bottle for my collection. Hy Vita Milk Company bottles are considered extremely rare by bottle collectors and depending on the condition they command remarkably high prices. But to me, the bottle’s true value is its history. The Hy Vita Milk Company bottle tells a story about Ship Bottom’s past. I plan to keep mine to preserve a little bit of that history.
—Matthew Bernstein
Long Beach Island, New Jersey has come a long way in 110 years. In 1914, stunning hotels, including the Baldwin and Engleside, graced the coastline; summer visitors found a magnificent 18mile barrier island, a place to boat, fish, and play. Some built summer homes. Others became full-time residents. And a brave few found the perfect place to start a business.
In May of 1914, a small group of dreamers with a vision for the future of Long Beach Island founded The Long Beach Island Board of Trade, known today as The Southern Ocean Chamber of Commerce.
Since its inception, the Chamber has strengthened the LBI community, promoting business and tourism, and
encouraging responsible growth through the development of infrastructure.
“The mission of the chamber is to provide business support and resources through multiple channels and in-person events,” said Lori Peppenella, CEO of the Southern Ocean Chamber of Commerce. These events include the annual Christmas Tree Lighting and Parade, fishing tournaments, and perhaps most famously, the Chowderfest. In fact Long Beach Island was named the chowder capital of New Jersey in 2018.
Moreover, the Chamber has assisted the community in less visible ways — raising substantial funds for local hunger relief and the development of infrastructure, paving of safer roads, public sewers, and water. In its
earliest days, the Board of Trade had a part in the construction of the 1914 Causeway. It was instrumental in the 1959 and 2014 bridge projects and the current Causeway bridge. Now, in its 110th year, the Chamber and its nearly 600 members continue to play a vital role in support of the $4.2 billion tourism in Ocean County.
At every turn, the Chamber has helped Southern Ocean County navigate numerous disasters, sometimes through uncharted waters, that have threatened the region’s quality of life and financial sustainability.
In 2012, after the devastation of Superstorm Sandy, the Chamber opened the Business Emergency Response Center the day after the storm, launched the Super Storm Sandy Response, and was the first in New Jersey to host a Small Business Administration Recovery Center. More recently, the Chamber provided a regional response to
COVID-19 that received recognition for recovery programming and post pandemic support.
Since 2015, The Southern Ocean Chamber of Commerce has received continuous recognition as one of the top Chambers of Commerce in New Jersey.
Today, with its vision always fixed toward the future of LBI, The Southern Ocean Chamber of Commerce continues its mission.—Fran Pelham • Historical photographs courtesy of the Southern Ocean Chamber of Commerce Archives
1914: The Long Beach Island Board of Trade, today known as Southern Ocean Chamber of Commerce, is founded. Their mission: To promote businesses and foster tourism.
1938: The first local guidebook was published, and has since served as the main
resource for tourism information and a guide to the LBI community for visitors.
1942: Officially operating as a staffed visitor center, running educational programs out of the office.
1945: The first Long Beach Island Christmas Tree Lighting held at the traffic circle in Ship Bottom.
1954: The first Striped Bass Derby – A competition for surf anglers – is held.
1958: The Chamber becomes sponsor of the Miss Magic LBI Pageant.
1959: The Chamber becomes an instrumental part of the Causeway and bridge projects.
1989: The first annual Chowderfest was held in Beach Haven.
2007-2008: Officially renamed Southern Ocean Chamber of Commerce.Wedding Road Show & Party Planning Tour became the premier wedding event in southern New Jersey.
2012: Founded Superstorm Sandy Response, and opened Business Emergency Response Center the day after the storm. First in state to host a SBA recovery center.
2015: Recognition as one of the Top Chambers of Commerce in New Jersey.
2020-2021: COVID-19 regional response with ongoing support and destination marketing and management. Received recognition for recovery programming and ongoing post pandemic support.
2024: Celebrating 110 years of continued service.
The cool night ocean breeze flew in the window, the curtains waving in its wake, and brushed the faces of young Edith and Jane Dalland lying in their beds. Soothing them to sleep were Ingvald Dalland singing a Norwegian lullaby and Ingeborg Risnæs Dalland joining him as she lightly strummed a guitar. This was the quiet scene inside one Barnegat Light cottage of the 1930s, a scene of love and Scandinavian roots that echoed up and down the ramble of that still mostly untamed old town. For Edith Dalland Parker, now in her 90s, the memories of her childhood are as fresh, vivid, and potent as if they happened just yesterday.
These tales are from a time when Long Beach Island was still lingering in the remote and simple 19th century way of things, when the vast open
spaces were still desolate, and when a strong back and a love for this special place was necessary to overcome the trials of life. This was an island on the overlooked eastern frontier of America that ironically sat on the doorstep of its most cosmopolitan epicenters, New York, and Philadelphia. Yet nothing from Tucker’s Island to Barne-
gat Light was comparable to the world over the horizon.
For Ingvald, who had lived and worked in Brooklyn, New York for years, it was love at first sight when he found himself visiting Barnegat Light for the first time in the early 1930s.
“When my father came here, he thought, ‘This is it!” Parker shared of her father’s reaction.
“‘This is where we’re going to be. Oh my gosh, this is so peaceful and quiet. And not like [the] first World War where everybody stood in line and there was no food. We’re never going to go through that again!’”
Between vegetable gardens and bountiful fishing, Barnegat Light was a veritable Eden where one only needed to roll up one’s sleeves to provide — in contrast to the cobblestone streets of New York City that were dependent on everything arriving from somewhere else. Parker underscored this practicality when remembering how they got their dinners. “Every day, my father’s idea of fresh fish was, ‘the fish ate its breakfast in the ocean, and we ate ‘em for dinner that night.’”
For Ingeborg and stateside family members, the attraction wasn’t as alluring. “Relatives all came down and saw where [Barnegat Light] was and they were shaking their heads,”
Parker chuckled. “My mother wrote home to her family, ‘the mosquitoes in Barnegat Light are as big as birds!’ It was the most god-forsaken place she’d ever been to.” This would be an adjustment Ingeborg would struggle with all her time there, preferring the civilized life of the city.
Reservations aside, the Dallands moved to Barnegat Light following a unique and already established route that spanned the vast Atlantic Ocean back to the old Scandinavian countries. Many who emigrated in search of work in the United States would find themselves along the Jersey shore before long. Some settled elsewhere, from Point Pleasant to Cape May. Often, Barnegat Light was where scores landed on American shores for a second time. Word of the excellent fishing and boat building opportunities found there was in the air of the Norwegian Seaman’s Church, Sjømandskirken, in the Red Hook neighborhood of Brooklyn, an epicenter of Norwegian American life that rented rooms, served meals, and hosted traditional celebrations on the holidays. Some from Barnegat Light would find their way back to join church activities and entice new arrivals who heard tales of a place in New Jersey similar to, though warmer than, the coastal villages they came from. By the 1930s there was a bus, Parker explained,
that would take folks from Brooklyn to Lakewood. And there would be transportation waiting for anyone interested in getting to Long Beach Island from there. Once these men, mostly single, arrived in town, they could find lodging at many friendly houses of their brethren and secure quick work.
One option awaiting new arrivals was a package deal for housing and work with Dick Myers Sr. over at his docks off West 6th Street. “If they worked for Myers fishery, they lived in this shanty,” Parker explained. Years earlier the shanty bunkhouse housed the curiously named Berkley Fishing Club. “It was like a boys’ dormitory; it was a mess.” And as often happened over the years, the hard life of an unmarried fisherman could lead to bad habits. Most of the Myers fisherman would spend their down time a few blocks away at Paul Kaetzel’s bar, now known as Kubel’s. “They would go there with their pay and unfortunately most of them became alcoholics.”
Some would get a room in one of several cottages that were open to fellow countrymen. One place where “they could find a place to stay would be Gudney and Jack Svelling’s house, which is still standing [on the Boulevard next to the Barnegat Light firehouse],” Parker said. “They had made the second floor into an apartment.”
Another was the home of Otto and Evelyn Olsen. They put the whole thing up for rent, in fact, one year. It was the Dallands who would take up their offer, and helped Otto build a new larger house next door, according to Parker. “That’s what [the Olsen’s daughter] Anna Lisa called the ‘big house,’ and the other the ‘little house.’” Moving in next door to each other deepened a life-long friendship between the two. And it was on this block that an era began when all the Scandinavian ladies organized daily gatherings to socialize and harmonize in the old ways of their country.
Parker fondly remembers the daily ritual and how it brought nearly everyone together. “At 3 o’clock every day they had what they called ‘coffee klatsch.’ You had to come in from playing outside, have a bath, change out of your play clothes, and we played indoor games –parcheesi, monopoly, checkers. Then my mother, if she was the hostess, would serve whatever this delicious coffee cake was with coffee. So, the kids and Norwegian women would get together. I’m sure [for the women] it was just crying on each other’s shoulders. But it was all in Norwegian.”
These touches of the old country in their new country remained a constant. Around the holidays, these traditions made for especially
memorable and warm times.
“My father and I would go in the spring and pick out our Christmas tree” on Barnegat Light’s formerly wide, brushfilled bayside meadows. “I didn’t know what he did, but we would pick out a tree that was almost perfect. Of course, one part of it probably didn’t have any branches on it. But what my father did was go get another tree a couple weeks before Christmas and he would bring them down to the dock to drill holes in them, replace [the bare spots] with real branches, then made a stand for it.” For Christmas Eve, Ingeborg would often play hostess, which meant a lot of preparation. “They’d cook all these fancy cookies until 3 o’clock in the morning.” Then friends, and the single fishermen from their bunks and guest rooms, would descend on the Dalland cottage and find a little bit of home a world away in Barnegat Light. “That’s the first time I ever saw a man cry. We’re singing these songs, ‘Jeg er saa glad hver Julekveld’ [‘I am so glad each Christmas Eve’], and we’d clap our hands. Seeing these grown men — tears running down their faces — clapping their hands, and singing their hearts out,” it was a scene Parker still remembers fondly. “And everybody played an instrument. My mother played the guitar. My father didn’t so he taught himself to play on the harmonica.”
Little Edith, though, also welcomed new traditions from the country she and her little sister Jane were born into. “I liked to read by flashlight at nighttime my favorite book ‘Dick, Jane & Baby,’” Parker said, an early influence from the Barnegat Light one-room school and a special teacher.
Hessie Younghans, the sole teacher of first through fifth grade at the Barnegat City School in the late 1930s, “was the best thing that ever happened to any of us,” Parker stated matter-of-factly. “Because we were Norwegian, do you think any of us ever heard of red light-green light? Do you think we ever heard of Prisoner’s bars? Liberty batball? Softball? Tennis? Nothing, none of that. And spelling bees.” Parker credits Younghans with introducing American games, culture, and patriotic identity to her generation, ideas which they took home with them and excitedly shared with their parents.
Where the old and the new
ways mixed would often be at Hans Benestad’s Bar & Grille, formerly located on the site of Daymark Bar & Restaurant. In the winter, Parker detailed, Benestad had a clubhouse at the West 6th Street docks. “That’s where I learned to ice skate on the bay” when it was frozen over. Inside, occupants would play cribbage. On Saturdays at the bar, Hans would host a Norska celebration. “And they would play all Norwegian songs. There were more tears in there than there were in a hospital. Everybody reminisced after a couple of beers.” The dart games played there were a “big deal,” according to Parker.
It was a life that required effort and did not benefit from most of the conveniences of modern life that would arrive in the decades ahead. It was, indeed, peaceful for the most part as Ingvald had predicted when he first set eyes on Barnegat Light. But it was not without hardship and tragedy as a consequence of the time and the “god-forsaken” remote place Ingeborg once described.
Many who knew him still remember Dr. Bill Dodd; a sort of frontier doctor who did it all and served the community tirelessly. Parker is one of those who owes much to his care.
All the children were “petrified” of Dodd, she remembered. A big guy with a jiggling belly, but a “heart as big as gold.” The experience of receiving vaccinations from him at school is traumatizing for Parker to this day. But later experiences exemplified that everything he did was because he cared so deeply for everyone who came under his care.
One July when she was twelve years old, Parker caught a bad splinter coming back from the beach. “Blood was pumping out of my foot. It was terrible.” At that time during the war there was a triage center in Brant Beach akin to today’s urgent care facilities. “If you went there at 10 o’clock in the morning you were lucky if you saw somebody by 5 or 6 o’clock in the afternoon,”
Parker explained. Her mother was trained in first aid as part of the war effort and she did what she could with what was on hand, getting a piece of the splinter out and putting on a salve. But the condition of her foot worsened. “It blew up in size,” Parker recounts. “I think I wore a size five [shoe] and I had one of my girlfriend’s size eights on that foot.” She ended up on crutches for the rest of the summer and as school approached, her foot was not improving. A return visit to the triage center that included x-rays could not come up with any explanations. Ingvald decided it was time to take her to Dr. Dodd, who was in great demand not only at his Island office but as the primary surgeon at the old Paul Kimball hospital in Lakewood. The wait to see him, if he was called away, meant a long day in the waiting room. When it was suggested they might come back tomorrow, Parker’s mother declared, “Vee vill stay.” Finally, late in the day, Dodd took Parker back to examine her.
The infection on the bottom of Parker’s foot indicated something was very wrong. After an examination and more x-rays Dodd was unable to find the cause and asked Ingeborg to approve exploratory surgery. “Well,” said Parker. “My mother was okay with anything at this point.”
When Dodd began to perform the procedure, Parker began to sweat. “Whatever they injected didn’t take. And he looked at me [asking], ‘Can you feel this!?’ He felt so bad. He reached over and he laid me down. Told [his nurse and wife] Mabel, ‘Get another pillow.’ I don’t know what they gave me [then], but it knocked me out.”
After he was done, Dodd revealed that the cause of all the trouble was a long sliver of wood that he removed from the arch of her foot; and wood is undetectable by x-rays. What happened next brought a smile to Parker’s face and a warmth in
her voice all these years later. Dr. Dodd was an avid shell collector and kept a large cedar chest of them he’d accumulated all over the world in his waiting room. “This man, after it was all said and done and I came out of it, had seen see me looking at the big cedar chest of shells.” To Dodd, these were ones he didn’t want to keep and had available for any child to take. “But nobody did,” said Parker. “We were all just so polite” and put them back after looking at them.
In surgical recovery, Dodd came in and asked Parker, “‘Do you like shells?’ I said, oh yeah, I got a collection of shells. And he picked me up and carried me into his private office. And he’s showing me all of these shells, some came from some place in South America, that one came from Nigeria.”
A huge shell in the yard entrance caught every child’s eye. “He said, ‘when you leave, go out and you can write your name on there,’” Parker
divulged. “But make sure you write it near the bottom because I don’t want anybody else to see it. [This way] I know you were here.’
Parker smiled and looked away wistfully. “He was my buddy from that time on.”
Dodd would always go the extra mile if it could help someone. He proved it again for the Dallands when Parker’s older stepbrother became ill.
A son from Ingvald’s brief first marriage in Norway, Sven was a bashful, shy boy, according to Parker. He wanted to emigrate and be with his father years before, but there were rules in place about such things and standards that had to be met. So, Sven remained in Norway with family. When he finally emigrated at age eighteen it was difficult adjusting to a new country, new people, and a new stepfamily.
Not long after he arrived, he began feeling sick. He didn’t
say anything at the time to his father or stepmother, and the men at the dock who he fell in with fishing thought he was just reacting to something in the local water. Their solution, which helped them in similar situations, was an old-style laxative that came in bar form resembling chocolate. What Sven and they did not know was his ailment was in fact appendicitis. His condition was worse when he began suffering from severe dehydration due to the effects of the laxative. When his appendix burst and his condition became dire, the Dallands immediately called Dr. Dodd. Parker remembered that day with a soft, sad voice.
“Dr. Dodd drove from his house down in Beach Haven all the way up to Barnegat Light, picked [Sven] up, carried him out to his car, wrapped him in a blanket, drove all the way to Lakewood and operated on him. He died on the operating table.”
It was a tragedy that affected
the family for the rest of their lives. “I don’t think my father ever really recovered.” Parker still has knick-knacks that Sven made displayed in her Beach Haven Gardens home today, alongside old family treasures including a tapestry made by her Norwegian grandmother with a stitched message sending a greeting.
Parker had many other adventures and memorable times growing up then making her own life on Long Beach Island. But those are for another day. Some of her earliest days recounted here paint a portrait of a simpler time when the American dream could be realized if you just put your mind and back into it, when little girls and their fathers walked the sunny meadows in search of Christmas trees, and when mothers and fathers sat by their children’s bedsides enveloped by the sweet soft breath of the sea to sing them to sleep. This was Barnegat Light once upon a time. —Reilly Platten Sharp
Grace Calvary Church, originally founded in 1924 as Union Chapel, begins celebrating its centennial throughout the summer months of 2024 with a timeline story board that provides an overview of the church within the context of world, country, and local highlights. Just as we are impacted by the world around us, so too were its founders.
In the early 1900s the Welch Revival and Azusa Street Revivals influenced a preacher named “Billy Sunday”. He in turn influenced John “Dad” Schill to start sharing God’s word with his neighbors and community here in Beach Arlington.
As early as 1916 in the midst of World War I local men kept eyes on the beaches at night. LBI’s life saving stations were transformed into the early Coast Guard stations. On August 13, 1918, a German U-boat torpedoed and sank the oil tanker Frederic R. Kellogg just miles off of Barnegat Light and shelled Fort Handcock north of LBI in Sandy Hook. That same year, the deadly influenza global pandemic reached the United States. One can imagine the concerns,
motivators, and prayers of the community.
In Beach Arlington, more commonly known today as Ship Bottom, Sunday school was being held on porches; hymn fests were held in local homes. Sunday school quickly outgrew the porches. After the storms of 1920 and 1923 seriously impacted train service to Long Beach Island the Beach Arlington Sunday school was moved to the train station. The train station
also became Beach Arlington Volunteer Fire Company #1 in 1922. Union Chapel members Oliver Cox, Joseph Baily Jr., Willard Miller, and Moses Friedel were among the fire company’s original officers. On August 31, 1924, Union Chapel, known today as Grace Calvary Church, celebrated its construction and incorporation. Its early trustees were of diverse faiths: Baptist, Methodist, Catholic, and Quaker.
Rev. John Sinnamon, Union Chapel pastor from 1929 to1935, tells how Alfred Clark was the first to suggest to John Schill that a chapel should be built and offered up the first donation of $10. Sinnamon credited Willard Miller, John Pharo, Charles Cox, David Wark Sr., and Moses Freidel for generously donating their time and tireless
efforts in labor, and Charles Conrad for contributing a 1500-pound church bell. The surnames and roles of Gurtcheff, Gustafson, Brown, Magee, and Miller are also recorded in Union Church history. Most of these men remained active church leaders through the 1950s and beyond.
The commitments of many have been impactful in the church. Frank Neubauer, Mary Buchwald, William Reinhold, Sara Holt, William “Scotty” Ackland, Bernie Godbolt, Hank Braun, and Ed Chatterton were steadfast servants. Trustee Doris Marine shepherded the church during its transition from Union Chapel to Grace Calvary Church. Every decade offers its own stories of dedicated servants. There are many more, too numerous to mention.
Grace Calvery Church began in the hearts of its community and remains there. In 2012, the church served as a hub in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy offering up hot food and supplies from the Red Cross and Salvation Army. It also hosted the Southern Baptist Convention’s disaster relief teams in the distribution of aid and remediation of damaged homes. Current pastor, Dan Stott, was honored as Grand Marshall at the 2013 Ship Bottom Christmas Parade.
Grace Calvery Church gives thanks to God, and recognizes its pastors and people, and community as it shares its story during office hours throughout the summer. — Linda Bubar • Photography courtesy of the Grace Calvary Church
Dave Wark Sr. installing the roof on the Union Chapel • Circa 1923
My first experience with Long Beach Island was more than fifteen years ago when a family friend, Brian Powers, “The Bagel Man,” the owner of Center Street Bagels in Beach Haven asked me to help at his shop while he took care of some personal business. I was more than happy to lend a hand. This is where my love of LBI began. The locals loved Mr. Powers, and they extended their kindness to me, my husband, Jason, and our son, Chase. While I helped at the bagel shop Jason and Chase spent their days at the beach. I joined them in the evening for trips to a local amusement park, restaurants, and visits with my brother, Tom, sister-in-law, Melanie, and their daughter, Olivia, in Tuckerton.
Tom and Melanie went on to purchase a home in Loveladies which they graciously opened to my family for vacations, holidays, and respite from daily life. Recently, with their daughter settling into George Washington University, they were kind enough to open their home to my girlfriends and I to celebrate my 50th birthday. We are a group of lifelong friends who met in the first grade in Philadelphia and whose friendships have grown stronger with each passing year. Our
nickname the “Lot Girls” began when a friend’s mother advocated for a safe place for local kids to play sports. The neighborhood came together, cleaned, and cleared the space and “The Lot” was born and we became the “Lot Girls.”
The celebration started on Saturday with relaxing poolside and preparing for a cruise on the Miss Barnegat Light. The cruise was one of the highlights of our weekend; I got to play captain for a few minutes and the boat’s crew surprised me with a chorus of Happy Birthday. Hungry and happy, we then traveled to a local restaurant for appetizers and dancing. Our weekend ended with beach time at one of the Island’s resorts where we enjoyed live music and good food. To my delight, this would not be my only 50th birthday celebration on LBI.
On August 26th, Jason, Tom, and Melanie hosted a birthday dinner party for me at one of LBI’s restaurants. I was surrounded with family and friends who either reside on the Island or traveled to celebrate with me. It was an amazing night that ended with cake and karaoke. My milestone birthday celebrations were even better because we celebrated on LBI. —Mary Davey
Soroptimist International of Long Beach Island, founded in 1956, is a pivotal force in economically empowering women and girls through educational access. Originating in Oakland, California, in 1921 during an era when women faced exclusion from service organizations, Soroptimist emerged with a mission encapsulated by its name, meaning best for women in Latin.
The organization's genesis on Long Beach Island traces back to sponsorship by the Soroptimist Club of Philadelphia, culminating in its charter on March 10, 1956, under the leadership of Adelaide Kapler. Over nearly seven decades, Soroptimist of LBI has impacted over 1,000 women and girls locally and 65,000 nationwide, driven by a diverse cohort of women committed to community service.
Among its notable members was Mildred Hughes, whose legacy extended beyond Soroptimist as the initiator of the first Girl Scout troop on Long Beach Island. Her lifelong dedication epitomized the organization's ethos.
Fundraising efforts have been pivotal in realizing Soroptimist's objectives, with the
creation of the "Original LBI Flag" standing out as a notable community contribution. Designed by Jeffrey Huber in 1966, this emblematic flag with six stars representing the Island's six municipalities has become a cherished symbol, with proceeds directly benefiting women and girls in the local community.
Soroptimist's mission, unchanged since its inception, focuses on empowering women and girls through educational and mentorship initiatives, reflecting its core values of gender equality, empowerment, education, diversity, and fellowship.
The organization's flagship program, the Live Your Dream Education and Training Award for Women, has provided vital financial assistance to over 35,000 women nationally since 1972, facilitating economic independence. Locally, Soroptimist of Long Beach Island awards scholarships to deserving women, many of whom are survivors of domestic violence or human trafficking, empowering them to overcome obstacles and pursue higher education.
The Dream it Be it: Career Support for Girls program targets young girls, equipping them with the confidence and skills needed to
break cycles of poverty and abuse, fostering a pathway to fulfilling careers and lives.
Additionally, the Youth Fellowship Award recognizes high school girls for their volunteer service, providing financial support for their future endeavors. Soroptimist's commitment extends to local high schools through scholarship programs, offering financial assistance to graduating young women as they embark on their collegiate journeys.
The Service Committee allocates funds to organizations aiding women facing challenges such as domestic violence and poverty, while the Soroptimist Clothes Closet provides free clothing to those in need, fostering dignity and support within the community.
Regular monthly meetings and events, including the annual Scholarship Soiree, serve as platforms for camaraderie and fundraising efforts, sustaining the organization's charitable endeavors.
For those seeking to support Soroptimist's
mission, opportunities abound through purchases of flags or mugs, as well as volunteering. Interested individuals can connect via social media or the organization's website and email.
Soroptimist International of Long Beach Island embodies more than an organization; it represents a community of dedicated individuals committed to effecting enduring change in the lives of women and girls. Join in their mission to empower, educate, and uplift others. —Ann Sheridan • Photography courtesy of the Soroptimist archives
silongbeachisland@soroptimist.net www.sioflbi.org
Every year in October my fellow nursing students from the Charles E. Gregory School of Nursing and I hold a reunion in Surf City. The memories of those days together at our alma mater in Perth Amboy, New Jersey remain etched on our hearts. We feel fortunate to have chosen that school and to still be united in friendship forty-seven years later. Our reunions are filled with laughter, tears, hope, and faith. We take this time to catch up, enjoy local restaurants, festivals, and events including performances at Surflight Theatre. And we are sure to take in those beautiful LBI sunrises and sunsets. Our motto is “We’ve only just begun!” And we’re still doing it “Our Way.” —Diane Stulga
Long before I was born, our family fell in love with Long Beach Island. This began when our grandfather, George Sakson, discovered LBI as the family vacation spot in the late 1950s, early 1960s. One of the first houses my family rented was in Brant Beach. That decision by my grandfather to vacation on LBI shaped all our lives. We embraced the stories of the early days. My mom and uncle would tell us of their memories of when you could hear the clatter of the wooden plank bridge as you crossed from the mainland.
My mom, Judith Tilton and Aunt Mary Sakson or “Mimi” would take daily dips in the ocean at sunrise with the fashion accessory of the day, their bathing cap, appliquéd with flowers, usually before anyone in the house was up. Mom would say, she had to “unlock the ocean.” Mom loved sitting on the beach, reading with her large sunglasses and straw hat, exploring for shells and sea glass. Mom would take every op-
portunity to go for a “dip in the ocean” as she would say, regardless of the water temperature. My grandmother, Teresa Sakson, or Nanny, loved reading on the beach, floating in the ocean and cooking the family the most amazing meals. Nanny’s homemade chowder’s faded recipe has been passed down and I still use it to this day.
Our vacation dinners were full Sunday dinners. We would reminisce on the day’s events and invite the evenings’ festivities. The sea air, sun kissed faces and laughter made for the most relaxing of times together.
Uncle Bob would share his painting excursions. He would go about the Island with his paints and easel, set out for the morning and paint familiar places, Kinsey Cove, Kelly’s with Old Barney in the background, the fishing fleet, The Shack, Wizard of Odds and Dutchman’s to name a few. After painting, Uncle Bob would come home, lay out his paintings and put a hamburger in the frying pan for lunch before heading to the beach; I still remember the smell of those burgers.
Mom and her brother, Uncle Bob, Robert Sakson, adored all things LBI. His paintings capture the Island and long forgotten places that are exhibited in his work. Some of mom’s favorite shops were Things a Drift and Andy’s at the Light which were a must stop. On one such stop to Things a Drift, when mom saw the book, Long Beach Island Rhapsody, she struck up a conversation with Cheryl, the owner, letting her know she was the sister of Robert Sakson, one of the watercolor artists in the book. Mom
was his biggest fan. Mom connected Cheryl with Uncle Bob and from then to this day, Uncle Bob’s paintings are featured in Things a Drift and Echoes of LBI Magazine; always a favorite read of mom.
My brother, David and I were born in the 1970s and in a way, it was as though we grew up on LBI. We spent August in Harvey Cedars on Gloucester Avenue and have fond memories of the sound of the car pulling into the gravel and the clapping of the wooden screen door. The family traditions continued with us, days were spent on the beach, swimming, or floating and riding waves on the raft. The raft was usually heavy canvas with the rope on the sides. It was indestructible and scratchy when
adorned with sand. Hunting for shells and sea glass was part of the day. David and Uncle Bob would watch the surf for schools of fish, and they always had their rods, at the ready. Evenings were magical, with family outings and sunset cruises on the Miss Barnegat Light, usually followed by pizza and ice cream. Other nights our destination was Flamingo Golf
When David and I were kids, the few days not spent on the beach were either at Tumble Town as the family watched us bounce off the trampoline, missing the steel springs and landing in the gravel only to jump back on again or afternoons at an Island waterpark getting a bit scrapped up on the concrete water slide when we fell off our mats before landing in the water. There were Monopoly and Scrabble tournaments. Aunt Carla, Uncle Bob’s wife, was the reigning Scrabble champion and mom, her tournament rival, was awarded Lighthouse Monopoly Champion in 2019; this could not have been more appropriate as mom was smitten with lighthouses, especially Old Barney. I would be remise if I did not mention lobster night. A full bib-on experience!
Our last family vacation was in September 2019 on East Connecticut Avenue, down the street from Pinky Shrimps, a favorite seafood spot for our family. As always, our trip ended at the bench. The bench was a special place for us. We would gather for one last look upon the ocean. —Teresa M. Tilton • Photography courtesy of the Tilton Family
Members of the Long Beach Island Historical Association and Museum gathered this spring at the 182 year old former Holy Innocents Church for this fun, in costume photoshoot honoring the Beach Haven historic district's Victorian past. Current President, Denise Cleveland, and former President, Ron Marr, were on hand as passionate chroniclers of Island history. They lead the tireless work of the storied Museum's dedicated team of volunteers at 129 Engleside Avenue, now in its 48th year. For more information on all activities at the Museum and helpful details to plan a visit, please go to lbihistoricalmuseum.org —Written and photographed by Reilly Platten Sharp • Special thanks to Diane and Rob Roy for coordinating photoshoot costumes and volunteers.
In the 1950s everybody in the area, especially at Barnegat High School, was talking about The Manahawkin Speedway — “The Track”. If they weren’t duck hunting, clamming, or on the water they were somewhere working on a hot rod or trying to soup-up the family car. Car racing had come to Manahawkin. The races were loud, dusty, and exciting. Fans didn’t mind the lack of seating; they probably wouldn’t have sat down anyway. They eagerly stood to watch drivers with names like Boots, Bud, Myrtle, and Peanut scream around the track in hand-built hot rods and stock cars. And for a brief moment in time, Manahawkin felt like the center of the car racing universe.
The first Manahawkin Speedway built by Bud Hayes, John Erlin, and other local men was a half-mile oval dirt track built in a gravel pit at a quarry formerly owned by Manahawkin Sand and Gravel. It opened on April 23, 1950. Located across from the Manahawkin Lake on Rt. 72 where the Holiday Inn stands today, it
was also known as the Lakeside Speedway, Manahawkin Racetrack, and sometimes called Cox’s Pit, the name of gravel quarry’s former owner.
In 1952, Manahawkin Speedway opened a second racetrack not far from the original gravel track near the area occupied today by Doc Cramer Boulevard shopping plaza. Planned and built by the same group of men, the new track was a one-third mile asphalt paved oval with high banking which allowed the cars to maintain higher speeds around curves without skidding off the track. Lou Macaluso, the founder of The Hot Rod Club, obtained the permits and had the land graded. Once built, the new racetrack was promoted by John Erlin.
John “Bud” Hayes had only recently returned home after World War II where he served in the 4th Armored Division of the United States Army spearheading General Patton’s Third Army in Europe where he’d landed in the second wave at Utah Beach and fought in the Battle of the Bulge and
received eight Bronze Stars when he asked his wife, AnnaMae, if he could turn the family car into a stock car for racing. Given the great condition of the vehicle, her response was a resounding no. But Bud was born to build, restore, and race stock cars and hot rods. So, he took that car into the woods for some reconditioning. Afterwards, he repaired all the damage he had done to it, and with that, their family car became his first stock car.
Next Bud bought a car from a friend. In the sland of the day — it was a dog — a slow car. Bud changed out the engine. The car was fast, but the name stuck. Hence the name — The K9. Bud went on to build car number 468, which was driven by local driver Franny Steinmetz, followed by car number 469. Of the cars that Bud built, 469 was the first that he drove.
Over the next ten years, Bud owned, built, and restored approximately thirty cars and raced at numerous tracks. When his son, John Jr., came along he seemed to have
inherited his father’s love of racing and talent for building race cars. Always in the garage with Bud, John Jr. could take a motor apart by the time he was five years old. He quickly became a builder of stock cars and hot rods as well as an avid driver, racing at various tracks for around twenty years. Each year he built a new car and restored cars for other drivers. Together, every Sunday Bud and John Jr. had two cars on the track.
On October 29, 1950, Michael “Boots” Zimmerman was a twenty-four-year from Ship Bottom driving a 1934 Ford Coupe, car number 1. That day, at the Manahawkin Speedway, he won five out of nine races including a fifteen-lap
main event. Zimmerman was a star at the Manahawkin Speedway. He also drove a car owned by Firman Cummings of Ship Bottom, the grandfather of Dave Michel.
Tom Michel was a veteran of the track. His first car was a 1937 Ford Sedan, and his last car was a Ford Pinto. Tom and his son,
Dave Michel, drove race cars for years. Dave drove stock cars at Wall Stadium Speedway.
Other drivers that frequented the tracks at Manahawkin Speedway were Danny DeCamp in car number 104, Jim Mochera in car number 105, Al “Peanut” Wardell, Everett Cranmer, John Earlin, Sam Sprague, Myrtle Falkinburg, and Louie Macaluso. These drivers raced at other local tracks throughout the years as well. Some of these were Wall Stadium Speedway, Mt. Holly, Pleasantville, and New Egypt.
In addition to mechanical modifications for speed, the cars were physically altered for safety. Roll bars were installed, windows
were removed and replaced with wire. Doors and trunks were welded shut. Drivers had to climb through the side window to enter and exit the cars. The drivers wore helmets and safety belts. During every race, the cars experienced mechanical problems and sustained physical damage from crashes. And people like Bud spent hours in their garages fixing them for the coming week’s races.
Everett “Bub” Gilberson of Cedar Run was a frequent spectator at the tracks. “I was around ten or eleven years old,” recalled Bub. “We stood on the banks and watched the races. The cars were really loud.” Bub’s father, Everett Giberson, owned Giberson Saw Mill in Cedar Run from 1965 to 1995. Sonny Rostein, the son of Giberson’s business partner, Roy Rostein, was a race car driver for years.
Races were held on Sunday afternoons. Usually, there were eight races with six or seven cars in each race. The average speed
was 55 to 65 mph. The final race was called the feature race and there was a $25.00 dollar purse for the winner. The feature race consisted of all the qualified winners from each of the races held that day.
During the races Tom Michel’s sister, Lucille Michel Bates-Wickward, formerly of of Lucille’s Luncheonette in Warren Grove, and their father sold soda from his truck. The members of the Manahawkin Speedway Girl’s Fan Club attended all the races and cheered on the drivers. Powder Puff Derbies, featuring only female drivers, came to Manahawkin Speedway when it was operated by John Earlin. Local driver Myrtle Falkinburg was one of the best. After driving car number 67/8 and John Erlin’s car number 7/11 without a win Falkinburg drove Louis Macaluso's car number 7 to success twice.
Car racing had come to Manahawkin. And then — almost as quickly as it had arrived — it was gone. Drivers moved on to larger
tracks. The first track closed after just two seasons. The second track closed in 1954, two years after it opened. The final races on the high-banked asphalt track were go-cart races in the 1960’s.
Bud Hayes worked as a mechanic in Mt. Holly, New Jersey for many years. In 1965, he moved his family to West Creek. His children, Nancy and John Jr. still live there. In 1974, Bud built a car for Nancy’s husband, Glenn Hall who raced for several years.
Today, it’s difficult to find any physical evidence of the Manahawkin Speedway. The racetracks are gone but the memories of when Manahawkin seemed like the center of the car racing universe remain. The author wishes to thank Nancy Hall without whom this story would not have been possible for sharing her memories and family history with Echoes —Diane Stulga • Photography courtesy of Nancy Hall
Thirty-two years ago, Long Beach Island was a simpler place. It was the end of the era that began after World War II that many of us were intimately familiar with because we had grown up, built careers, and started our own families during that time. Thinking back on it now, we did not know how good we had it. But so, says every generation when their day passes into memory, and they find the Island they once knew intimately is not the same. One can imagine then how an Islander who grew up in the early days of the 20th century may have felt thinking back on his own simpler, more familiar day from the vantage point of 1982.
In the earliest days of Barnegat City, a town built by 1870s developers dreaming of a second Atlantic City atop the mostly empty sands of the sleepy old town of Barnegat Beach and its storied lighthouse, life was little changed from the rustic ways of 18th century America. Baymen and fishermen were still the trades of most men. Seasonal lifesaving and wreck salvage were jobs for men young and old. Railroads were the only link to the outside world. And for those living seasonally or year-round on the Island, it was a very small world where everyone knew each other. This wide-open yet intimate life of freedom was both attractive and stifling. It was such a novel way of life for those who were introduced to the area as tourists that it brought them back again and again. For those who spent their lives
between a mainland homestead and an Island cottage during fishing seasons, the close confines brought their share of camaraderie and disputes as personalities bumped up against one another. On the whole, the Island of old was a heavenly place that shaped those who grew up there and stayed with those who fell in love with it. The magic of Barnegat Light in particular endures through its unique features as a city by the sea and in the people whose hearts it captivates.
On a hot sunny day in the summer of 1982, Ron Spisso of Barnegat Light’s Inlet Deli, touched by the Island he came to love as a child, sat with Franklin Morse Archer Jr. to hear stories about a town and its people so similar to the Barnegat Light many have known in recent memory yet so different, like something out of a fairy tale. Archer’s grandfather, Benjamin Franklin Archer of Camden, New Jersey, was one of the developers of the 1870s who harbored dreams of a shining city beneath the protective gaze of the old lighthouse and is almost singularly responsible for the Barnegat Light generations have treasured. And like his grandfather, Morse shared the same love for Barnegat Light and spoke of it fondly.
This continuing series will share some of the stories told that day by Morse of his times as a boy from the 1900s-1920s, preserved
and curated along with other such oral histories by the Barnegat Light Historical Society.
Since the days of discovery over four hundred years ago, wrecked ships have been a constant around Barnegat Inlet. Just because the calendar years started to begin with nineteen did not mean the perils of the antiquated days of sail and horseback were over. In fact, some of the most memorable, tragic, and fateful maritime disasters came as navigation technology and ship construction greatly improved. In the end, for all mankind’s ingenuity we are still at the mercy of nature, and Barnegat Inlet has seen many humbling reminders of the power of the sea.
would come all the way up from down south headed for New York all the time,” Morse recalled. This one stuck around long after the initial drama, with another ship headed for the wreck from far offshore. A year after the wreck of the Sumner, Morse recounted, “there was a schooner reported wrecked off Barnegat Light.” This was the 104-foot, 167-ton three-masted J.A. Holmes, formerly a Great Lakes logger now owned by a British company transporting lumber from Cuba to Canada.
One such reminder came on a foggy night in December 1916 when the Sumner, a 350foot, 3500-ton United States Army transport vessel with over 350 soldiers, crew and families aboard ran into trouble on Barnegat Inlet’s infamous shoals. Fortunately, all passengers and crew were rescued safely, and losses were material only. The Sumner, though, would have a long and serendipitous legacy for those in Barnegat City.
The transport had run aground off 6th Street. “These types of ships
On September 10, 1917, reports of her distress came into the Barnegat City Coast Guard Station, who responded immediately though the location given was far out. “[They] had to go out in the middle of night. They got out there and found it miles offshore and sure enough the [J.A. Holmes] was awash and busted up with leaks. But it had not sunk. It had been beaten up in the storm. And on the aft sail was a flag upside down, which was a wreck signal. But there was nobody on board. So [the Coast Guard] came back. There was nothing they could do about it. It was just derelict.”
Word arrived a few days later that the steamer Malden bound for New York had encountered the J.A. Holmes at sea earlier and had safely evacuated everyone onboard, taking them on to the city and accounting for the ship’s ghostly state when the Barnegat Light station crew found her. But the J.A. Holmes was not destined to drift about the Atlantic. She had a date
with the wreck of the Sumner and the people of Barnegat Light.
“The thing that was remarkable about it,” chuckled Morse remembering the ironic turn of events, “was that [the J.A. Holmes] came in on a northeast wind from wherever it had been abandoned up north of us at sea and it hit right in between the bow and the stern of this wrecked transport.” Indeed, the currents wedged the schooner into the widening gap of the Sumner as it slowly broke up that year. Over time, the J.A. Holmes, too, began to come apart in the fall of 1917 just beyond the breakers off 6th Street.
This was to be the first of many times the broken-up wreck of the Sumner would cause havoc on passing vessels. Like the schooner Lucy Evelyn, the Maine-based lumber transport destined to end up on Long Beach Island under much happier circumstances, the J.A. Holmes’ also had a hold full of lumber on her regular route. What happened next was a scene common at any home improvement store but bountifully bizarre on the beaches of Barnegat Light as the J.A. Holmes broke apart and the logs within floated out into the surf for days.
“Our beach was a lumber yard,” Morse described with amazement. “Everybody ran down and got lumber out of the surf as fast as they could and piled it up. And the insurance company for the schooner came down, looked at it, and said it was so drowned in sand that they couldn’t save anything. Whatever we pulled out was ours. Well, we had enough lumber to build boardwalks around the house along with everybody else!”
This was an early example of the kind of ocean-based recycling practiced in Barnegat Light over the years as resources were scarce and took a long time to come if ordered. From shipwrecks to the lighthouse keeper’s house and Oceanic Hotel when they were demolished, salvaged flotsam and jetsam make up the walls and framing of many an old cottage in town.
As for the nuisance wreck of the Sumner, she was eventually dynamited by United States government personnel in what remains the largest explosion ever seen around Long Beach Island.
Portraits Under the Lighthouse, Part II will be continued in the next issue of Echoes of LBI —Reilly Platten Sharp
Echoing through the ages these words provide insight and a history of romance even here on our small eighteen miles of sand. “What shall I wear!” is usually the next question. Today this can be easily remedied by visiting any one of LBI’s unique retail shops.
However, it was not so in the late 1800s when visitors, predominately sportsmen from Philadelphia brought what they needed for gunning and fishing in trunks by boat from Tuckerton across Barnegat Bay. There were no retail shops to handle wardrobe dilemmas for women. By the early 1900s, train service for the small towns north and south on the mainland increased opportunities for all types of busi-
nesses leading to an eastern rail spur in Manahawkin, crossing the bay on a low trestle train bridge which often was flooded. In June of 1914, an automobile causeway bridge across the bay opened. The first high expansive four lane bridge opened in 1957. During those early years, shopping on LBI was limited to small seasonal stores and Gerber’s, a year-round, cover-every-need type of store in Beach Haven.
In the early 1940s, two industrious women in Beach Haven, Esther Sheck and Jane Lathbury, saw a need and the opportunity to become early female entrepreneurs. Esther and her husband, Frank “Pop” Sheck, already owned a large laundry business on
Pearl Street where Jane, a close friend, was employed. Together they often enjoyed evening meals and entertainment at the nearby Baldwin Hotel. While at that summer hot spot the close friends noticed the need for high quality women’s evening wear. Making business contacts to purchase wholesale goods in Atlantic City, the women opened a clothing shop inside the Baldwin Hotel: Esther Jane.
At two o’clock in the afternoon on a beautiful summer day on August 27, 1947, a guest tossed his cigar out of a second story window of the Baldwin Hotel. Landing on a porch roof below, it slowly smoldered and eventually ignited the dry cedar shingles. Hotel staff sounded the alarm to evacuate the building and the volunteer fire brigade arrived. Fortunately, upon hearing the sirens, Pop Sheck ran quickly up the street to Esther Jane to remove their expensive clothing from the burning hotel to safety. In a twist of fate, in 1960 the Baldwin
Hotel would be lost to fire.
As the years passed the entire Island experienced a building boom of cottages, restaurants, and stores. The Baldwin was still a nightly hot spot but changing times and clientele led the savvy women to move their seasonal business to Ship Bottom in 1952 — making it more accessible for families north to Barnegat Light. In the early 1960s they expanded their inventory to include moderately priced all-season clothing, eventually offering men’s and boy’s wear. After twenty-five years, Jane and Esther were ready to retire. This hard-working team answered that proverbial question, “Yo Mom! I need…!”
Today, the building on the corner of 19th Street still maintains parts of the old façade of the Esther Jane. —Photography and story provided by Carol Freas
Growing up in Harvey Cedars in the 1940s and 50s, Jay Bower’s life became inextricably tied to the ocean. The time he spent by the sea at his grandparents’ house, and later, along with his brother, Rich, in his family’s own home on the bay, greatly influenced his future. His childhood experiences on LBI eventually led Bower to the United States Naval Academy where he jump-started a career in the U.S. Navy.
“My grandparents, Fred and Kit Bower came to the Island in the late 1930s,” said Bower. “When they built in 1940 there were only two other houses on the bay from Cumberland Avenue south to roughly Union Avenue. They were [owned by] Ed and Effie Griggs, their son, George, and Sarah Smith. There was no Holly Avenue, and all access roads were cut from the Boulevard to their respective properties on the bay.”
Another house was added to the neighborhood in an unusual way. “During the hurricane of 1944 Dr. and Mrs. Stewarts’ house was picked up from the ocean side of the Boulevard and moved roughly to the southwest corner of Cumberland and Holly Avenues,” Bower explained. “They purchased the lot, and the house had a new address.”
“Initially, my grandparents owned three Boulevard to Bay lots,” continued Bower. “They sold one to Boyd and Becky Morris and one to my father and mother, Holl and Doris Bower. Later in the 1940s the Morris’s, and their daughters, Janet, and Jackie, built next to my grandparents. In the 1950s my parents built on their lot across from the Morris’s at about the same time Holly Avenue was cut through from West Union to West Salem. In short order, during the early 1950s, between Holly Avenue and the Boulevard, Dr. Bernard and Helen Mickle and their daughter, Helen; Bud and Fran Lee and their children, Barbara, and George, and Dr. Earl
and Fran Keller with their daughters, Beverly, and Francine, built houses. Already on the ocean side of the Boulevard were Ellis and Jane Wood, Ray and Lenore Holmes, Betty and Bob Green, and the Wahl family. Closely following were Dr. Ed and Eva Magee, with daughter, Eve, and son, Ed, building on the corner of Cumberland and Holly, across the Boulevard from the Coast Guard Station, which is now the LBI Fishing Club. In 1953, my dad purchased three lots on the bay across Holly Avenue from our house. They were deeded into three new parcels and the Heineman’s built next to us on the south side. Ellis and Jane Wood, now with sons Peter and David, built next to us on the north side. That completed the Holly Avenue Gang, occasionally referred to by all of the parents as the South Harvey Cedars Chowder and Marching Society, a name dreamed up at some cocktail party or other. The gang of kids continued well into the 1960s with my brother, Rich, Peter and David Wood, “Weezie”, and Jim Cook’s sons, Tommy and Jimmy, Roger Main, and David Bulman comprising the next group.
In the forties and early fifties, the families who lived on the almost vacant bayfront were remarkably close. “What I remember about Cumberland and Holly Avenues is that we were all like family. “Here is why we were such a close-knit group,” Bower explained.
“All the fathers were either professionals or businessmen from the Audubon, Oaklyn, Haddonfield, and Collingswood, New Jersey area. Some of the mothers, including my mother, Doris, Fran Lee, Jane Wood, and Betty Green all graduated from Collingswood High and were sorority sisters there.” As a result, the group was together in both Harvey Cedars and their winter homes. Their friendships were passed down to their children, who competed against each other in various high school sports in the winter and gallivanted the Island together in the summer.
Bower recalls how life on LBI helped to mold their lives. “As kids, we worked on the Island – clamming and selling to Mike’s on the Causeway. One worked as a mate on a fishing boat in Barnegat Light, one stocked shelves at the Island Supermarket, as well as other odd jobs. We grew up in so many ways on the Island, and that stood us in good stead in our adult lives. I even met my wife, Barbara, there in 1959.”
Neighbors were constantly looking out for one another. Bower recalled that after major storms, when boats and belongings were scattered about the Island, people would hang notices in the post office and the general store advertising boats they had found in the hopes that the owners would come pick them up. “If no one showed, it was your boat until the next storm,” Bower joked.
Bower had the unique experience of living on Long Beach Island during World War II when German submarines prowled the Atlantic coast of the United States. Though he was only six years old when the war ended, his memories from those years remain clear. “I was little, but I do remember…” Bower recalled that every home had blackout curtains on its windows that faced the ocean and explained why this was the case, “If there was a background glow coming from the Island, submarines could more clearly see the silhouette of a ship, making it an easy target.” He also recalled the U.S. military lighter-thanair ships, or blimps, from Lakehurst Naval Air Station in Lakehurst, New Jersey that frequented the skies over LBI. “They were nearly constantly overhead on their way offshore to look for submarines.”
were looking for submarines, or any indication that someone was trying to come ashore.”
He remembers admiring the U.S. Coast Guardsmen as well. “The Coast Guard station had horses at the time that they rode when patrolling the beaches. They
As a teen, Bower spent much of his free time on the water –boating and racing sailboats out of Surf City Yacht Club. Even then he felt drawn to a career at sea. “I spent a lot of time talking to the Coast Guardsmen when I could,” continued Bower. “At one point I thought I might go into the Coast Guard, but I ended up being appointed to the United States Naval Academy in 1957, graduating in 1961, and the rest is history. Who knew that those days on the bay, gauging breaking seas in Barnegat Inlet and studying the breaking surf would prove so useful years later when maneuvering a 328foot U.S. Navy landing ship into the rivers and onto the beaches of South Vietnam.”
Bower’s decision to enlist in the Navy in 1956 was a clear result of his childhood experiences in Harvey Cedars. When he retired as a
Captain in 1990, it was obvious that LBI’s influence had led him in the right direction.
Growing up in Harvey Cedars, Bower earned his Junior and Senior Lifesaving badges at Small’s bulkhead on the bay. Eventually, he translated those accomplishments into becoming a Water Safety Instructor at the United States Naval Academy and later an instructor to midshipmen at Oregon State University NROTC unit.
In the 1950s, Bower spent time running Barnegat Inlet on the Griggs’ Sea Dog II, a twenty-nine-foot Jersey Sea Skiff. Occasionally, they took packages of recent newspapers out to the crew on the Barnegat Lightship. A decade or so later, in 1967, while in the Navy and in command of the first of his three commands at sea, when moving ammunition from Danang to the Marines in Dong Ha, Vietnam, he and his crew would drop off U.S. Mail to the USS Sanctuary, a hospital ship stationed off the coast. “…strangely
reminiscent of those days off Barnegat Inlet,” mused Bower. Although his experiences led him away from the Island, a part of Bower will always remain in LBI. He and Barbara continue to visit the place that shaped their lives in many ways and holds so many memories. “When spring grows into early summer we always say, ‘Let’s go back to the Island,’” said Bower. “It may just be for a day, maybe for two days, but just enough to get up there and see the old haunts.”
“There’s nothing like New Jersey beaches, in particular LBI,” agreed Barbara Bower. “Once you get the sand in your toes it never leaves.”
Today, although the physical landscape of Harvey Cedars has changed, for Jay Bower LBI will always represent family and the start of something: a career, a relationship, a life. —Written by Kelly McElroy with Jay Bower • Photography courtesy of the Bower Family
Over the vast bay humanity swells to the shoreline as summer begins anew. As if flicked innumerably skyward by delicate strokes of the brush from a heavenly painter, the water dances beneath the decks of the four bridges between Long Beach Island and the vast country it marks the eastern edge of — a final continental umbilical before the immensity of the Atlantic and the old world far beyond. Few communities can lay claim to having been so shaped by a single piece of infrastructure as the Island and its bridges. After more than a century with the automobile, capable of moving any man, woman or child hundreds of miles comfortably and economically, today it is hard to imagine the earliest days of the miles-wide watery divide and the marvel of its bridging for the railroad and that mode of transportation’s revolutionary power to alter the course of American history. With so few relics and buildings left from that time, all we have left are echoes on the winds of history coursing across the great bay and through cottage windows like a visiting old friend. The last whisper of a bygone era on the Island came one stormy day in the fall of 1935.
The top left corner of the front page of the Asbury Park Press for Saturday, November 16, 1935, bore an unconcerning weather forecast. “Light Rain Today, Probably Tomorrow; Little Change in Temperature.” But on Monday, November 18, the headline screamed something terrible had happened over the weekend. That something was what Barnegat Light Mayor T. Jay France described as weather of “such fury or causing so much damage”
as not even the old-timers could remember worse.
Nineteen thirty-five was already an active and late year for storms. A hurricane had passed the east coast less than two weeks before the mid-November blow. Then, on Sunday, November 17, the first of several powerful storms that winter advanced up from the coast of the Carolinas and brought snow, rain, wind, and flooding with it across the region.
Folks from as far north as Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania were stranded in their homes and on highways by snow, relieved only by emergency air drops of aid from the Army. Farther south along the coast, many were also stranded by devastating flooding.
On Long Beach Island at the height of the storm on Sunday night, November 17, into Monday afternoon, November 18, the effects were terrible.
Winds gusted over 65mph. Tide gauges registered the highest levels in decades. Dunes were almost completely washed away from Barnegat City to Holgate. Two to three feet of water covered the Boulevard and side streets.
Just north of Barnegat Inlet, on Island Beach, a new inlet was opened. The Ship Bottom and Beach Haven fishing piers lost over half their length. Beach Haven saw its boardwalk tossed aside from 5th to 8th Streets. Several hundred people on the
Island ahead of the storm waited too long to leave, finding themselves trapped after the automobile bridge was covered by a still-rising, choppy bay. In Harvey Cedars, seventy families sought refuge on the estate of Frederick Small as scores of homes were badly damaged. All told, the nor'easter of November 1935 did over $2.5 million in damage up and down the New Jersey coast.
Within days of the storm, the county engineer was surveying the shoreline of Long Beach and recommended new brush-and-pole beach-works to rehabilitate the now narrow barrier between the Atlantic and homeowners. The board of freeholders readily accepted the plan and moved around $5,000 in highway funds to get straight to work on the most vulnerable sections of beach, including Harvey Cedars and Beach Haven. Also a casualty of the 1935 nor'easter was the struggling but
still active Tuckerton Railroad, as well as the automobile bridge which sustained such damage that Mayor France reported that “two cars could not pass one another in places.” The damage to the latter would be repaired in a matter of weeks. The railroad would not enjoy a similar resurrection. The trestle bridge, which had carried train passengers just above the waters of Manahawkin Bay since 1886 and since 1914 ran parallel to the automobile bridge, was washed apart, and scattered over the bay and Cedar Bonnet Island.
The destruction from the storm, though, came at a time when the railroad was already lumbering along on a wing and a prayer, waiting for absolution from a certain and imminent end. The profitability of the railroad connection to the Island was always a struggle, in spite of how it transformed the area through the pace of home development, the growth of the tourism
industry and serving as a vital connection between Island businesses and homeowners and the major market cities of Philadelphia and Camden.
Ironically after bankruptcies, the arrival of cars and the tearing up of the tracks to the less traveled north end terminating at Barnegat Light, passenger and freight service actually soared to record highs delivering tourists and goods to and from the cities to the south end of the Island and the old bayside hubs of Tuckerton and Barnegat, home to several successful factories and mills in those days.
The peak came in 1925 when Tuckerton Railroad saw profits of nearly $38,000 from passenger travel on its rail roads and over $135,000 in freight, or $658,000 and $2.3 million in today’s dollars. As had happened before, the changing habits of travelers, cutthroat railroad competition, and the ever-watchful Pennsylvania Railroad looking to collect fees for use of what were originally its tracks combined to bring an end to the good times. By the November gale of 1935, the Tuckerton Railroad had
suffered such a decline that it only turned a net profit of $4,000 that year.
Rather than a shocking blow, the loss of the train bridge was a mercy killing.
One last train left the Island as the storm struck on November 16. Tuckerton Railroad historian John Brinkmann recounted the scene in his great book of the same name.
“Locomotive No. 7, in charge of [engineman Everett H. Cook] with [fireman George T. Rutter] firing, was returning with a freight move from Beach Haven,” Brinkmann wrote. “Rain pelted against cab windows as the old gal attained Manahawkin Bay trestle.” Waves broke over the tracks, striking fear into the hearts of the men aboard. Luckily, they made it across safely. The next day, their escape became official as the final locomotive and cars to ever pass over the tracks to the mainland. Nearly a mile of track was ripped from its supports and lay submerged, adrift and washed up across the
western side of the bay. Salvage efforts costing $10,000 recovered much of the debris.
The loss of the bridge, estimated to cost over $100,000 to replace, was not why the Tuckerton Railroad and the railroad to the Island as a whole failed shortly after, never to be revived. But the bridge washing away, like so many other landmarks of an era when the past was still the present and people with dreams could lay into the lonely sands the foundations for the future, was the final straw that sealed the fate of the age of rail and the first bridge to the Island.
The nor’easter of ’35 isn’t talked of in the same hallowed breath as the mythical storms of ’44, ’62 and Sandy. But its impact was no less historical and Island-altering. The echoes of that day whisper down the bay, captured poetically by an unnamed writer to the Tuckerton Beacon on the occasion of the railroad’s end.
THE END OF THE LINE
It grieves my pride to an acute extent, When I read of the passing, with a long lament Of a railroad that in days gone by Was the humble pride of the native eye... The train’s personnel were the salt of the earth,
With Noblesse Oblige as their motto of worth. Conductor [James] Kelley, now gone to his rest Was one of the finest, kindest and best...
And mighty and fine was engineer [Archie Pharo Sr], Who watched the days closely, but never the hours. And Johnny Spencer was another of true worth That let glory pass and uttered few words.
And John C. Price, of the austere mien, With his famous rejoinder to his competitive dean: ‘It’s not as long as your road, by Gosh, But it’s just as wide and that’s no bosh.’...
I shall bow my head as the embers fade out And turn my footsteps away and about. From the sights that filled my boyhood days With the great aplomb of by-gone ways
And murmur alone in muffled tones
As homeward I drag my weary bones. ‘Your place in fame is earned and well. Yours is the honor, Adieu and farewell!’
—Reilly Platten Sharp
In the early 1900s, pioneer photographer Robert Fry Engle of Beach Haven documented his journey across the United States from New Jersey to San Diego capturing images of the majestic landscapes, vast wilderness, and wild frontier of this country at the turn of the century on glass plates.
Every winter my husband and I drive out to Colorado to see our grandchildren and then on to San Diego to see the rest of the family. Over the years, we have visited national parks and taken in the views along the way. Unknowingly, our journeys have taken us along the same routes and to many of the places Engle visited over a century ago. One such place is Glenwood Springs, Colorado with its memorable snowy peaks and slippery paths.
Serendipitously discovered among the glass plates of the Cheryl Kirby/Echoes of LBI Robert F. Engle Photographic Collection this striking plate of Glenwood Springs taken by Engle looks west across the Colorado River, then known as the Grand River, from the hotel made famous by the local hot springs and as the place where Western legend Doc Holliday lived out his days. —C.K.
