Echoes of LBI 2021 Spring into Summer

elcome back to LBI — eighteen magnificent miles of sand, surf, and for the most part, sunshine. For those of you who missed it, winter 2020 on LBI was windy with mild temperatures and some exceptional tides. Many took to the beaches even in the worst of weather, knowing that it is the best time for shelling and finding sea glass. This year, it seemed that the Island was still waiting for the full force of winter to settle in — when spring unfolded its glory of brilliant blue skies, gusty winds, and spring storms with driving rain and billowing dark clouds. Who could have guessed the silver lining of the storm clouds would be the lifting of COVID restrictions and masks off for so many? It is so wonderful to see smiles once again!

This past year, more people made LBI their home year-round and with that, more businesses stayed open throughout the year. The number of new businesses on the Island has also increased.

Maintaining and preserving the history of LBI has long been my passion and driving force. Recently, the Long Beach Island Historical Museum in Beach Haven accepted my donation of the beautiful old brass cash register that occupied the counter of Maxie’s, my Aunt Harriet and Uncle Max Sadler’s boat rental and bait shop in Holgate. They gave me the cash register when Maxie’s closed in 1982. Aunt Harriet Van Meter was one of my father’s four sisters. They all grew up in Harvey Cedars on 82nd Street. Uncle Max worked just around the corner on 83rd Street with his father, Charlie Sadler at the boat rental he owned in the 1920s and 1930s. Harriet and Max met, fell in love, married, and eventually opened Maxie’s. They would be pleased to know their old cash register now has a permanent home closer to where it came from.

I want to extend many thanks to Joy Lamping Milano and Jerry Milano for placing the Robert Fry Engle Photographic Collection in my private collection of historical photographs and documents. Engle’s images, captured on fragile glass plate negatives, chronicle the history and evolution of LBI in stunning detail. Many who are not familiar with his name will recognize Engle’s iconic photographs. Individually, the photographs stand on their own as works of art. As a collection, Engle’s images create a uniquely important visual portal to the past. The antique glass plate negatives, some more than 125 years old, are currently being digitized, catalogued, and restored. I am honored and humbled to be entrusted with the care and preservation of this fragile trove of Island history.

While you are here, take time to visit the Barnegat Light Museum and Gardens. Uniquely, the museum is in what once was the old one-room schoolhouse my father and many other Islanders attended for grade school. It is a great museum to visit and filled with local history. The garden at the museum is open from dawn to dusk and is maintained by the Garden Club of Long Beach Island.

The lifting of restrictions has brought about the return of many of LBI’s traditional events like the Ship Bottom Christmas Parade. Other events that took place last year in modified form will return in full force for 2021. Plans are being made for the annual LBI Sea Glass and Art Festival, LBI FLY International Kite Festival, and Chowderfest.

In remembering those who are no longer with us, like my friend and neighbor for more than fifty years, LBI native, Sandy Medford, we are ever more thankful for those who are.

As always it takes a village and a great staff to produce Echoes of LBI Magazine.

Every sunset brings a new day,

Cheryl Kirby Publisher, Echoes of LBI Magazine

@echoesoflbi • echoesoflbi.com • issuu.com/echoesoflbi

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hen I was in school to become an art teacher, one of my instructors told the class something that stayed with me for years: “Remember that you are teachers, not artists.”

Teachers were practical people who wanted a career. Artists were people who needed to create, regardless of the obstacles.

I spent the next few years studying drawing, painting, sculpture, and printmaking, but did not consider myself to be an artist.

After completing a bachelor’s degree in art education from Buffalo State College, I earned a master’s degree from New York University, got married, and had two children.

Originally, I planned to return to work after my children were born. However, since the age of fifteen, I had been living with rheumatoid arthritis, a disease that makes joints — especially those in the hands and feet — swollen and painful. My joint damage progressed to the point that I could not go back to standing in front of a classroom of students all day. I missed teaching, so I began teaching private art classes and afterschool workshops.

My artwork also required adjustments. In college, I had been able to carve figures in wood and limestone. Because of the pain in my hands, I switched to carving blocks of clay. As for painting, I moved from large canvasses to smaller ones.

When my husband and I bought our summer house in Loveladies more than 20 years ago, I began to attend figure drawing classes at the Long Beach Island Foundation of the Arts and Sciences. Many of my classmates were professional artists who showed their work in galleries. One

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day, a fellow student looked at my drawings and asked if I had any shows coming up. When I explained that I did not show my work — after all, I was not really an artist — she looked confused.

“What do you mean, you’re not an artist?” she asked. “Of course, you are!” She put me in touch with the director of a library gallery and soon I had my first solo show. That is when I began to see myself as an artist.

Since then, I have had eight more solo shows at various library galleries near my home in Westchester County, New York. Each of my shows had a theme inspired by my interest in wildlife and conservation.

Let Nature Sing featured paintings of endangered animals in the United States.

Spirits of Freedom showed the wild mustangs that are being slaughtered in the American Southwest. Wild Africa depicted elephants, rhinos, giraffes, and other vulnerable animals. In addition, five of my paintings have received blue ribbons in shows at the Long Beach Island Foundation.

I continued painting despite my health challenges, which included five surgeries to replace failing joints. But in 2018, my health worsened dramatically. I had severe back pain, numbness in my hands and feet, and weakness that led to several falls. I visited more than a dozen doctors, made several trips to emergency departments, and spent three days in the hospital where the numbness and weakness worsened. The hospital discharged me to a rehab facility to regain my strength, but instead I lost the ability to walk and stand. I even lost the use my hands.

After two weeks at the rehab facility, my husband took me to a doctor’s appointment that had been scheduled more than a month earlier. This doctor quickly realized what the others had missed: I was experiencing a rare complication of rheumatoid arthritis that caused weakness and paralysis. The good news was that the condition could be halted. The bad news was that much of the damage that had occurred would be permanent. I would likely never use my hands again.

That was two years ago. Since then, with physical therapy, I have made slow but steady progress. I learned to stand for a few seconds, then walk with an elevated walker, and then take steps without a walker. My hands are still largely paralyzed. But with a brush strapped to my hand, I was able to start doing watercolors and acrylic paintings again. My physical therapy continues to this day.

Currently, I am preparing new works for my next art show, Fantasy and Abstract which features whimsical mythological creatures and unreal landscapes. Painting is more important to me than ever, it is my escape from my physical limitations. I am glad to be an artist. -Artwork and story by Ardeth Schuyler

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rowing up on LBI, I was surrounded by the beauty and unique art culture of the Island. For as long as I can remember I have been interested in art. In 2020, I graduated from the Ringling College of Art and Design, with a bachelor’s degree in Visual Studies and a minor in the Business of Art and Design. This allowed me the opportunity to study different mediums of art, and how the techniques used compare to one another. I created the pieces shown here to highlight these techniques.

All art, no matter the medium, starts with traditional hand-drawn pieces. By doing so, the artist hones hand eye coordination and hand control which will translate to digital art. The coral pirate sitting at the bottom of the sea is done in pen, ink, and acrylic paint. In this piece, every detail is painstakingly drawn, and colors are carefully applied by hand. Unlike digital art, the artist must take great care to paint around edges and not obscure details. With digital art, such as the mermaid on the beach, the artist is freed from such confines to explore the seemingly endless possibilities of the digital world.

The digital artist uses a computer or tablet with an art program as an extension of him or herself, much like the traditional artist uses a pencil, pen, pallet knife, or paintbrush. The artist can digitally adjust and readjust the piece as much as desired without the need to start over.

The program understands the lines and can fill in color and shading. It can also mimic different mediums, such as watercolor, oil color, chalk, pastels, and charcoal, in addition to techniques and styles. Digital art does not replace the artist or the need for talent and skill. It is a way for artists, young and old, to learn new techniques that build on tradition.

—Artwork and story by Anthony Madonna New originals, cards, and prints of all artwork seen in Echoes of LBI are available at Things A Drift in Ship Bottom, NJ, 609.361.1668.

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uilding sandcastles has been an enjoyable part of my life for over thirty years. What began as building indistinctive piles of sand with my sons — Chris and Eric — evolved into what I now call Sand Doodling. Now, instead of using children’s sand toys, the process involves the use of adult size buckets and shovels, plus a unique collection of sand tools. These include small plastic carving devices — specifically designed for sand, a tile float, a very sharp screwdriver, a small baking funnel, a one inch beveled paint brush, several very thin pointed artist’s paint brushes, and a few plastic straws. I refer to the straws as manual pneumatic air and sand moving devices. They work great in moving the small grains of sand away from tightly carved areas. The sharp tipped screwdriver is used for creating exceedingly intricate details, windows, doors, unique designs such as spirals, circles, eyes, waves, and pretty much anything that compliments the design of the day.

I have built Sand Doodle Castles on beaches all over the world.

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Some locations offer brilliant white sand like Aruba and Destin, Florida. Bermuda has white powdery sand with flecks of pink coral blended throughout. The sand on South Carolina’s Myrtle Beach varies from brownish white to dark gray, while on the big island of Hawaii you will find both black and green sand. Prince Edward Island’s Cavendish Beach features red sand, and at Harbor Island Beach in the Bahamas bright pink sand sifting between one’s toes is the norm.

Having said that, LBI sand is one of the most stable and workable sand of any I have experienced! When the base of my structure is packed wet and strong, the LBI sand provides a pallet for transforming the grayish brown, mineral-rich granules into a resilient, striking sculpture that always turns a few heads.

The tide of LBI eventually washes over the sculpted Doodle and takes it back out to sea. One may think at that point the Sand

Doodle Castle is gone forever. But that is not true for those that make my extremely critical cut. Those lucky few are captured forever via photography.

Ultimately, the best are printed on canvas and carefully painted over with clear and transparent colored glazes, a process that raises the image on the canvas. Once the subtle glazes are applied the printed image is transformed into a unique piece of natural art brought to life. In my mind, this striking sense of solidity and form will last forever.

While most of these images reside in the homes of family and friends, over the years LBI residents and visitors have taken thousands of photos of my Sand Doodle Castles.

It warms my heart when beachgoers stop to chat with me, comment on my unusual designs and take photos for their personal memories. Those returning year-after-year to LBI tell me they always look forward to seeing what I am building. Frequently, they ask my favorite question, “Hey Sandman, what’s it going to be today?” I smile and reply, “Well, it’s already here in the sand, I just have to dig it up.” See you on the Beach! -Artwork and story by J. Wayne Suggs

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The old man sits, all hunched astern.

His rod in hand, he starts to turn Toward his tackle, neatly sorted.

With gnarled fingers, so contorted, Grabs the object of deceit He thinks will make his quest complete.

The lure jigged from where it lands And skitters off of eel grass sands.

His heart beat quickens, eyes wide open.

As he cranks, there’s child-like hope in Every turn of the spinner’s handle.

His chest now pounds as on the anvil.

A firm but gentle tweak, and then Retrieving of the bait begins.

He knows with no uncertain thought That fish are begging to be caught.

The landing net lies at the ready.

The lure’s pace is sure and steady.

Arthritic hands begin to bind The decoy to the braided line.

With grace he twists and tucks and ties, And skill that surely does belie The age behind the hands so worn.

Now done, anticipation born.

Alas, no strike. He reels it in And checks aloft to gauge the wind.

How could his cast caught naught but air?

For surely there must be fish out there.

He quickly snaps another cast This one placed just as the last.

But as the bait is now approaching, There is no hunter below encroaching.

Only one, above the surface With rolling eyes, and smiles, and curses.

It’s not like this has never been.

It’s happened time and time again.

The anchor dropped, the spot selected, His quarry mentally detected.

The rod is whipped, the lure sails In flight along its vaulted trail And lands upon the rippled surface.

Sinking now with angling purpose.

Now reaching in his fishing vest He finds a pack of cigarettes, Grabs one with two fingertips, And places it between his lips.

Once lit, and tossed away the match, He turns his thoughts toward his catch.

And so, the old man settles in.

He glances west as the sun begins To dive beneath the distant hill.

Determined with a hardened will He’s bent on fishing up the moon Which promises to be risen soon.

—Randy Rush Page 26 • Echoes of LBI

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THE JELLYFISH An alien landed on the shore today.

Fearsome was the transparent dome, older than the dinosaur, glistening in new sunlight.

My comrades were confused by what they saw: Colors shining from within like the cat’s eye of a marble, the surface rubbery, slick as the skin of a dolphin.

I wiped sand away from the sphere, and in my crystal ball I saw a star over foaming seas and a wreath of laurel.

The strange object vanished as suddenly as it had arrived, leaving only a strange perfume on my palm.

—Devon Schuyler, poem and artwork

Mother’s Day Here’s a story for you from your old friends out west.

(We’ll put aside bragging which coast is the best!)

It’s about an odd creature long known to us all, Though oft overlooked because it’s quite small.

The children will know it because of its size, Though tiny to us, it’s great in their eyes.

At ebb of the tide where sand and sea meet Millions of sand crabs will swarm at your feet.

They cover the shore at the reach of the tide Backing and digging for places to hide.

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Watch out for the egret with legs like black sticks.

He tiptoes among them trying his tricks!

The seagull is there with her beak in the sand Trying to feed on our brave little band.

Now mallards are coming from out on the bay To feast at this bounty that bubbles all day.

In a contest for mothers the sand crab would win it, Each female crustacean lays an egg every minute.

So here’s to the little one that’s clearly a winner.

This host of the coast treats all to dinner!

—Ron Bovasso, poem and photography

FLOWER POWER On my way to shake the pastor’s hand on Mother’s Day, a little girl at church handed me a miniature rose.

Small enough to park above my kitchen sink, it bloomed there another two weeks. Then I relegated the plant to the back porch rail where it stayed through June into October.

Suddenly a new bud made its presence known.

I brought in the rose, gave it a drink of warm water, set it beside the purple orchid on the pine living room windowsill.

One after another, three buds opened, peach in color, bringing me a smile each morning.

With a fresh, hot cup of coffee, I postpone the day, watching roses bloom.

—Norma Paul

SPRING HAIKU Spring blossoms With tomorrow's wind Fall as snow.

—Ron Marr, poem and photography

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In nearly the exact center of my would-be March lawn one single white crocus appears on the morning of early March tenth.

Much against his normal behavior the naturally curious dog does not investigate.

The one bright spot remains all night and all the next morning until I notice that now there are two blossoms.

I rack my brain for the memory of when that bulb had been set into the earth beneath it but could not recall ever doing that.

So I accept our Maker’s gift to show me, Yes, Spring is coming, on its way once more.

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Delighted, I ransack my wintry wardrobe for a fitting, light outfit to brighten my day, pack away three heavy sweaters, move boots to the back of the closet, set the clock for daylight-saving time, crawl into bed under one fleecy blanket to anticipate a stroll in a warming breeze.

Alas, it’s an icy downpour awaking me now, as once again, I find a promise unfulfilled.

What happened this time, I wonder.

What have I done to turn my Karma upside down? I reach for the quilt I let fall to the floor, snuggle into another postponement of my plans of celebration.

—Norma Paul

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See your furry, feathery, or scaly friends in BEACH PAWS! Submit a high resolution image with the names of your pets, the owner, and the photographer to echoesoflbi@gmail.com

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ermit crabs make great pets for both children and adults.

Like with any pet, keeping them stress free is key to keeping them healthy. For hermits, a common cause of stress is dramatic changes in temperature or humidity. Too much stress can lead to serious health conditions, so it is important to watch them closely for any signs of deterioration.

it is better to prevent these easily avoidable situations.

Purple Pincers (Coenobita clypeatus) are land crabs found in the Caribbean, with Haiti being the largest supplier for the species.

These crabs are hardier and easily adapt to life in our homes and to a wider variety of shells. In the wild, they climb and hide in trees during the day, coming down to feed at night. Their ideal temperatures for survival are between 70 to 76 degrees Fahrenheit with 75-80% humidity.

While they can survive slightly higher or lower temperatures for short times, a sudden temperature shift can result in stress and injury.

A constant temperature shift, such as from an extended power outage, can cause temperature stress to hermit crabs. During a summer outage, as the temperature rises, move your crab enclosure to the floor or to the lower level of your home. Lightly dampen a towel and drape it over the crab’s enclosure to maintain humidity. Frequently misting the towel will help bring the temperature down. Be sure to remove the damp towel once the temperature returns to normal. For a winter outage, as the temperature drops move the enclosure to a higher point such as a shelf, counter, or desk and cover it with a towel or blanket. During a long-term power outage, place the crabs in a zippertype insulated lunch bag. Make sure the bag is zipped as the crabs will instinctively try to escape. Place the insulated bag with the crabs inside into another zipper-type insulated bag or wrap it in a flannel blanket.

Never place living creatures in a plastic bag. Placing your hermit crabs in your in your pocket can also help keep them warm.

Often, the first sign of stress is lethargy. While molting can also cause lethargy, with temperature stress other symptoms will begin to surface. A crab that gets too warm will often spit up a dark, slightly metallic smelling bile. Too cold, and the crab will begin dropping its legs. Unlike a molt where only the exoskeleton is shed, in this case the entire limb will fall off. With dedicated care, it is possible for the crab to recover and the limb should regenerate after a molt. Gently dipping the crab into a solution made of one-half gallon of chlorine-free bottled water and 125 mgs aquatic tetracycline will reduce bacteria and can help make the molt easier. If you see signs of temperature induced stress, quickly move the crabs to more stable temperatures. It is very difficult for hermit crabs to recover from this type of stress, so

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A simple way to avoid temperature stress is to make sure your crab enclosure is located away from HVAC vents and windows.

Temperatures in these locations can vary greatly from the surrounding room.

It is important to keep hermit crabs out of areas where temperature stress can occur. Routine monitoring and daily interaction with your hermits will help you recognize the early signs and take preventative measures before injury occurs, so your hermit crabs live long and happy lives. —Sara Caruso

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he summer of 2020 was the best of times and the worst of times. LBI businesses scrambled to provide COVID-19 safe havens and salvage their season. Thankfully, many businesses had an excellent, if although unusual, year. As we turned the page on fall, events set for the upcoming months were uncertain. Tents came down as the temperature fell and many businesses closed for a long off-season sleep. The 12th Annual LBI Sea Glass and Art Festival in Ship Bottom was a socially distanced success. LBI FLY International Kite Festival was able to fly high in the face of the virus by modifying their program. The weather cooperated and the beach was filled with intrepid kite flyers, a grateful audience, and necessary volunteers.

The Christmas parade was not as fortunate and was canceled due to a rise in COVID-19 infections following Thanksgiving gatherings. Santa had to deliver health and safety instead of marching bands. But Ship Bottom still lit up the Island as they always do with their Christmas lights. The parade may not have decorated the Boulevard, but the boat ramp glowed festive and bright.

January delivered moderate temperatures. Walkers, runners, and surfers enjoyed being outside for most of the month. February was not as kind. As the mercury dropped, the bay froze. We set our faucets to drip and turned up the heat to keep the pipes from freezing. It did not matter too much as most of our activities were inside anyway. We spent hours each day on our computers and phones, trying to score a COVID-19 vaccine. Some people were

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lucky, some are still working the links to the websites, hunting for the elusive shots.

Traffic, on the other hand, was not as scarce as vaccines. Many of LBI’s second homeowners chose to spend the colder months at the beach. There were more people and more canine activity on LBI this off-season. That was good news for the select restaurant and bars that managed to stay open, as well as the shops that provided some weekend diversions.

For most of us, the winter of our COVID year was a time to get creative. When the weather cooperated, garages were turned into make-shift living rooms. Garage doors stayed open for air circulation, heaters were turned on and lights were strung across the beams to create an open-air space for small gatherings and interaction with close family and friends.

The Lighthouse International Film Festival's monthly movies went virtual, continuing to highlight the world of independent film. Zoom became a noun. Online shopping became a jungle of deliveries, keeping us stocked with many items we did not really need. Most travel plans were canceled. But we made do and found a way to keep smiling.

While COVID-19 may have changed our world, we still lived on a barrier island, and beach walks were not canceled. In the end, our winter season looked just like last spring — homebound, internet focused, and virtually connected. At least we had an adequate supply of toilet paper! —Maggie O’Neill. Photography by Diane Stulga

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pring is a metaphor for new relationships, beginnings, and rebirth. During spring, we open the windows, air out the house, and come back to life, much like nature herself. Thus, spring is the perfect symbol for youth. But it lasts only a few short months, and youth passes just as quickly. In the blink of an eye, the wheel of life turns towards autumn. It can be a special time, a chance for renewal, to bloom again, like a September Rose.

Fall has always filled me with joy. I love the first cool night or early morning chill that marks the end of summer. As the Island prepares to slow down, I come alive in the crisp, salty, air. Looking back, I realize I have always been an autumn person, in both mind and spirit.

Through the decades, I have changed course many times. Now, at an age when most people are starting to slow down, I continue to redefine my life plan.

And why not? Who is to say that we can only make a mark in the spring of our journey? Why not change course and go in another direction, no matter what our age? We may not have the same level of energy that we did at age twenty or thirty, but we do have wisdom under our ever-expanding belts. We have enough experience to know what we don’t want, which is far more important than knowing what we do want. Life is more finely tuned. Choices and possibilities may be limited, but the target is clear.

The Little House on the Prairie stories, written by Laura Ingalls Wilder, weren’t published until she was sixty-five. Morgan Freeman didn’t become a famous actor until he was in his fifties, despite being in the business for more than thirty years.

The clue to being happy is to never give up and to stay engaged. None of us know how much time we have on this earth. The number of years remaining is not as important as the journey itself. From our known start to the unknowable finish, if we keep redefining our plan and looking toward tomorrow, we still have a shot at our dreams.

No matter where our path takes us, each experience helps us grow.

When we get to the AARP years, we should focus on the lessons we have learned. Once we realize where we went wrong and what we still need from life, it’s time to blossom once again. It’s time to take stock of it all, good and bad, and sprint for the finish.

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Life has shown me that the world can turn to tragedy in an instant.

But the opposite holds true as well. It can deliver a miracle at any given moment. I always want to be on the lookout for daily gifts.

I don’t want to miss even one opportunity because I thought my time for magical moments had passed. I believe I still have time to bloom in the autumn of my life, just like a September Rose.

—Maggie O'Neill. Photography by Kelly Andrews If you also feel this late-blooming season, share your journey at echoesoflbi@gmail.com

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nique, one-of-a kind furnishings and accessories for the home and garden, fashionable women’s clothing, jewelry, and custom-designed floral displays, not to mention essential plants for the garden — The Reynolds Garden Shops invite strolling and meandering. Customers confess to spending hours browsing through this maze of enticing, quaint out-buildings and barns stretching over four storefronts on Bay Avenue in Manahawkin. Blearyeyed and weary, patrons head home at the end of the day to recharge over libations and refreshments — recovering from a satisfying day of shopping.

As enjoyable and rewarding an experience that it may be, many customers have confided to the Reynolds family and staff that only one detail could improve their shopping experience — refreshments, caffeine, and sweets to recharge their energy for another circuit around the grounds.

The Reynolds family, spearheaded by Luke Reynolds, responded to fill this void. As a result, The Café at Reynolds celebrated its grand opening in March of 2021.

The concept may have developed from the suggestions of patrons however, the design was driven by function and necessity. Space constraints mandated that the coffee bar be small enough to fit into The Garden Shop without infringing on valuable sales space. It needed to be eye-catching and discriminating in its offerings to attract the client with a palate for fine espresso-based drinks. Based on necessity, the coffee bar was located in the largest section of The Garden Shop — the pole barn.

Every detail was considered to create a design for The Café at Reynolds that was both ergonomic and efficient — using sustainable materials to produce an environmentally friendly, warm, and inviting setting. The bar façade was constructed from reclaimed mahogany deck boards garnered from previous landscaping projects. Old joists from the original garden

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shop floor became the structural beams for the serving counter and utility areas.

The countertops were formed from poured concrete — a durable surface that is both easy to clean and stylish.

Cappuccino, latte, mocha, macchiato — espresso-based drinks offered at The Café at Reynolds — showcase beans of the highest quality and diversity. Peru, Ethiopia, Guatemala, Congo, Mexico, and Tanzania — beans from around the world are roasted locally to coffee bar specifications. The selection is rotated to provide clients with ever-changing options to experience contrasting taste essences from fruit, wood, and even smoky cigars.

From mild to acidic, light to medium roast, sweet to milky, drinks to satisfy every taste and preference are on hand at The Café at Reynolds. An assortment of black, green, white and chai teas are also available for those non-coffee drinkers.

For the coffeehouse connoisseur, The Café at Reynolds is committed to keeping pace with the latest trends and techniques in the coffee-brewing industry. Smooth tasting cold-brewed coffee, freshly ground pourovers, and “Nitro-Brews” — nitrogeninfused cold-brews with a creamy, Guinness-like texture, are just a few of the latest brewing techniques available at The Café. Matcha and Kombucha, powdered teas with half the caffeine of traditional teas, add to the offering of tea-based drinks.

Trained baristas are on-hand to explain and create the caffeine-based cocktail of your

preference. For those with a sweet tooth, locally baked dessert snacks ranging from fruit infused coffee cakes, muffins, and scones to Italian biscotti provide an extra pick-me-up.

Customers can enjoy their beverages while strolling leisurely through the shops or relax in the shade at The Cafe’s inviting outdoor seating area. Nestled into the courtyard next to the pole barn, with comfortable chairs and café tables, it is the ideal spot to recharge after an exhausting day of shopping.

The latest in a series of improvements, The Café at Reynolds evolved from an on-going commitment to customer service. It is the cornerstone that continues to define the mission of Reynolds Landscaping and Garden

Shop for over forty years. The Reynolds family and staff hope The Café will enhance the overall shopping experience at The Reynolds Garden Shop. They cordially invite you to stop in for a refreshing libation and scrumptious snack. —Elaine Sisko, Staff Writer at Reynolds Landscaping The Café at Reynolds is located in the pole barn section of Reynolds Garden Shop — 201 East Bay Avenue, Manahawkin, NJ. Opening times coincide with the Reynolds Garden Center — 9 am to 6 pm Monday through Saturday and 9 am to 5 pm on Sunday. For more information about The Café or the inventory of merchandise and plant material available at Reynolds Garden Center and Shops, please call 609-597-6099 or visit reynoldslandscape.com.

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very year, about 8 million metric tons of plastics end up in our beautiful oceans. All over the world, and here on LBI plastic trash washes up on beaches. It damages the environment and hurts marine creatures. Whether it’s plastic bags, food wrappers, beverage bottles and bottle caps, cups, plates, straws, balloons, or toys, you and your family can help by saying “NO” to plastics. Here are a few ideas to get you started: • Choose reusable bottles, cloth tote bags, and metal straws.

• Celebrate with homemade decorations instead of balloons and plastic decorations.

• Never do a balloon release. Most balloons end up in the ocean.

• Wash and donate used plastic toys instead of throwing them out.

• Make sure you use the recycling bin at home, school, and the beach.

The Garden Club of LBI is dedicated to a clean environment, and sponsors programs for children.

Visit thegardencluboflbi.com to check out our activities, programs for children, and for membership information. Let’s work together to keep our oceans healthy! —Gillian Rozicer

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Five-year-old Greyson helps his grandmother, Geralyn Lichtenstein, rid the beach of trash. Bottle caps, lost fishing gear, and bags are the most common plastics found on LBI. North Beach • Jeannette Michelson photo

THE WRACK LINE SCULPTURE CONTEST IS BACK! 2021 LBI Sea Glass & Art Festival, October 2 & 3 Things A Drift, 406 Long Beach Blvd., Ship Bottom, NJ 609.361.1668 • thingsadrift.com/events/lbiseaglassfest Collect flotsam and jetsam from the beach and turn it into art!

Enter one sculpture made of beach finds, be it human-made trash, natural or a combination. Sculptures must be assembled ahead of time, able to fit on the contest table, stay intact throughout the contest, and be rated G. Sculptures must be made of no less than 75% beach finds and can be held together with anything. Free to enter, all ages and skill levels welcome.

Register on October 3rd, between 11AM to 2PM. Judging at 2:30PM. Sculptures must be picked up after the contest.

Be inspired by our previous winners at Facebook @lbiseaglassfest More festival events on page 77

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am my true, best self when surrounded by sand, sea, and a gentle ocean breeze.

It clears my mind, makes me feel whole again, and brightens my day.

My Mom Mom, Sherri Piergross of Palmyra, New Jersey, had a house on 10th Street in Ship Bottom. I have countless childhood memories of summers there, of waking up in the morning and heading for the beach. For me, LBI is unlike any other place.

Mom Mom raised me. When I was thirteen-years old she became ill, and my dad and I moved to her house in Ship Bottom to live year-round. Separated from the woman who meant everything to me, without friends, and starting a new school, I struggled. Two years later, Mom Mom’s house was sold, and we moved back to Palmyra to care for her. I felt lost. But I knew that selling the house could never

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rowing up in Northeast Philadelphia in the mid 1950s and early 1960s we didn’t get to the beach often. We visited Brigantine a few times when I was a toddler, but for my family vacations were not the norm.

One summer, when I was eight years old, we visited my aunt in Newport, Rhode Island. I recall taking the ferry across the bay and watching seagulls hover above us as the boat slowed and came to a stop. I remember the rocky beaches and way the misty air felt against my skin. That trip left a lasting impression on me.

When I was thirteen my family moved to New Jersey. About a year later, my older brother got his driver’s license, and we discovered a beach just over an hour away.

My love affair with Long Beach Island had begun.

I have many memories of sun-drenched days on the sand, prom weekends, girls’ get-a-ways, and coffee with the sunrise.

Teenagers grow up and life moves on.

In between college, jobs, marriage, and children the Island was always there waiting for us. It was a place of peace and quiet reflection: sleeping with the sea air drifting

take LBI out of my heart. Over the years, I often returned to LBI. When my boyfriend, Andy, introduced me to his mother, Marilyn, we instantly connected over our love of LBI and the happiness we found there. We made a promise to visit LBI once a month for a year.

Our monthly trips to LBI were a welcomed break from daily life. Sometimes, during the drive, we had carpool karaoke — singing into seashells we found. Often, we picnicked on the beach and competed to find the best beach treasure. Sometimes, it was the end of the month before we knew it and we scrambled to keep our promise. It was hectic and crazy, but it was a good kind of crazy that had us riding the Ferris wheel at 10 pm on a work night or laying on the beach gazing at the stars despite the hour drive home. It was our own personal slice of Zen. —Alexys Cloran

into the open windows, flying kites, climbing the steps of the lighthouse, bike rides and ice cream.

However, life gets in the way sometimes.

That is why on an afternoon in June of 2016 my daughter-in-law, Alexys, and I took an impromptu ride through the New Jersey pine barrens and across the Causeway Bridge to 4th Street in Ship Bottom. The beach was empty, and the waves were gentle. We found a few sand dollars and smooth white shells. Later, we spread my blue plaid blanket on the soft cool sand, sat and watched the sunset. Then, as the sky turned lavender, we laid back and watched the stars emerge. It was so restful and peaceful. And although it was only a few hours, it was long enough to convince us to make the time to come to the Island more often. We pledged to visit this special place at least once a month for an entire year. And we did.

—Marilyn Michener DiPaolo

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rancis Galton was born 1822 in Birmingham, England into a wealthy, aristocratic family of scientists and inventors, including his notable cousin, Charles Darwin. A child prodigy, Galton read by age two. By age six, he could do long division, knew some Greek and Latin, and read Shakespeare for enjoyment. During his lifetime, he made contributions to the fields of mathematics, statistics, meteorology, biology, psychology, criminology and more. Galton also discovered what is known as the wisdom of crowds.

In 1906, Galton happened to visit a local livestock fair. There, an ox was on display and a contest was in progress. The public was asked to guess the net weight of the animal after it had been slaughtered and dressed. Participants submitted their guess on a slip of paper. Galton’s curiosity knew no limits.

After the contest was over and the winner announced, he asked to have all the slips of paper.

That evening, searching for something interesting to occupy his curious mind, he turned to those 800 slips of paper to see if anything useful could be learned from them. The guesses varied widely, with most much too high or too low; only a few were anywhere near the correct answer. Galton decided to calculate the simple average of all the entries. As a member of the elite upper class, Galton had been raised with a firm belief that the aristocracy should rule society by virtue of their God-given superior knowledge, judgment,

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and insight. He believed it was not possible for the opinions of the lower classes to be of any interest or value. Imagine Galton’s surprise when he found that the simple average of all the guesses gave a result that was within one percent of the correct answer.

Every fall, Cheryl Kirby, the owner of Things A Drift in Ship Bottom, New Jersey, hosts the popular LBI Sea Glass and Art Festival. A traditional part of the festival is a contest to guess the number of pieces of sea glass in a jar.

This provided me with a perfect opportunity to test Galton’s discovery.

At my request, Cheryl provided me with the paper slips having all the guesses from a previous year’s contest. Of the 236 slips, I omitted only two from the calculation.

One was a guess of twenty, presumably from a young child who did not understand what the contest was about; the other from a gentleman who carefully filled in his name, phone number and e-mail address, but neglected to supply his guess. As expected, the guesses varied wildly, with a low of ninety-four and a high of 4022. I averaged the remaining 234 guesses.

The result I obtained, 739, was within two percent of the correct answer of 752. Not quite as good as Galton, but impressive, nevertheless.

Today, Galton’s method is still in use with some corporations using it to make forecasts about future events. —Martin Schuyler.

Photography by Sara Caruso

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have always felt that if we believe and work hard enough our dreams can come true. My husband, Vic, and I lived in central New Jersey for more than twenty-years. We dreamed of having a home on LBI. Its sparkling water and beautiful star lit skies have always been like a million lighthouse beacons calling us home.

Our dream came true in 2007 when we purchased a house on a lagoon leading out to Barnegat Bay. And in September 2010, we settled into life at the New Jersey shore, full-time.

That October was our first Halloween in our new home. It is one of our favorite holidays and we looked forward to the arrival of Trick or Treaters even though some of our new neighbors had cautioned us not to expect any. We had never heard of such a thing and found it impossible to believe. And yet, as the day wound down our doorbell never rang.

As the sun set, I walked along our dock feeling certain that Trick or Treaters were headed our way. I looked up to see a pair of beautiful white swans swimming toward me. Ah ha…I do have Trick or Treaters! Delighted, I dashed into the house for something to feed them. Standing on our dock, so close to those beautiful creatures watching as they ate, I could hardly believe my eyes. When the food was gone, the swans lingered with me at our dock for a while.

Later, when they slowly swam away, I was filled with a sense of happiness.

Weeks later, on Thanksgiving, as our family prepared to sit down to dinner, the swans returned. Our grandchildren were so excited, we dashed out to the dock to feed them. To my amazement, just as they had done the first time, the swans did not rush off after they ate.

Again, weeks went by with no sign of the swans. But on Christmas Page 60 • Echoes of LBI

Day, as our family returned from a walk, the swans were at our dock to greet us. To every one’s delight, the swans ate and stayed with us for a little while. We watched in quiet amazement as they swam away. Later, we laughed about how our special swans only visited on holidays.

The swans returned a few days later — on New Year’s Day — and again, on January 18th, my late father’s birthday. Over the next two years they continued to visit us on various birthdays, anniversaries, and special occasions. Each time, long after the food was gone, the swans remained at our dock with us for a while.

Each visit was magical and filled us with a sense of awe.

On October 29, 2012, we left our dream home at the New Jersey shore to seek safety from hurricane Sandy. When we returned to LBI on October 31st, Halloween, the roads were closed to prevent anyone from driving into our community. We parked our truck two miles away and walked home. As we made our way back to

our house it was cold, gray, windy, and eerily quiet; none of our neighbors had returned yet.

All around us the devastation was indescribable. Our once beautiful neighborhood now looked like a war zone; debris, belongings, cars, and boats were everywhere. Some houses had been completely destroyed. Everything was coated with black muck, and the stench was overwhelming!

Through our tears, Vic and I started cleaning up. Even though we did not know where to start, we knew there was no other place we wanted to be that day or any day. We had worked hard to make this dream come true. And now, despite the devastation we were facing, this was still our home.

Later that afternoon, we took a break from our cleanup. Exhausted and cold, we walked out to the tangled remains of our dock and boat. Standing there, surrounded by destruction, we watched in tearful disbelief as the swans, now covered with muck and mud, swam toward us. By some miracle, they had survived! As we fed them and talked to them, I turned to my husband and said, “Our special swans now have names, Hope and Faith.”

It has been years since hurricane Sandy. Yet, we still wonder how Hope and Faith managed to survive the storm. For us, as it has been for so many others, recovery has been long and hard. Faith, family, and friends carried us through an incredible transition. We thank God that we are here — still living our dream — in our home on LBI. —Written and photographed by Diane Stulga

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chemotherapy. Because of the type of chemo I received I lost all my hair. When I saw the teal ribbons, it was as though they were there to give me encouragement and support. I asked my husband to take a photo of me with one of the ribbons.

I first saw teal ribbons displayed around LBI and Manahawkin in September of 2019. It was particularly exciting for me because my journey with ovarian cancer had begun earlier that year when I received my diagnosis. That entire summer I had undergone

When I saw teal ribbons pop up again all over LBI this September, I asked my husband to take another photo of me. Just like last September, it is a photo of me standing next to one of the teal ribbons. But in this one I am happy to have my hair back. —Story and photography courtesy of Renee Everett

n September of 2020, when my husband and I spent a week at our house in Harvey Cedars, I was so happy to see teal ribbons for Ovarian Cancer Awareness displayed at many businesses in Ship Bottom, Surf City, Barnegat Light and other towns on the Island and mainland.

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haven't always been a wind enthusiast. In fact, I only began flying kites a few years ago. During a family vacation to the Outer Banks, my soon-to-be motherin-law mentioned she was heading over to Kitty Hawk Kites to pick up a t-shirt and some toys for the kids in our group.

I had seen stunt kites in action only a few times before but considering the windy conditions that week, I decided to tag along to purchase a dual-line kite.

I settled on a Prism Nexus — a red, orange, and yellow stunner that is ideally suited for beginner to intermediate flying and is sized for travel. The perfect kite for me! I headed straight to the beach and was flying in no-time. I can remember the feeling when the kite first caught a strong gust of wind that sent it streaming skyward. It was exciting to discover how to maneuver the kite in the air, first from side to side, then dipping it toward the ground and turning it back toward the sky, and eventually graduating to a sequence of barrel rolls and figure eights.

The following week, my fiancée and I traveled to western Ireland for a friend's wedding with our new stunt kite in tow. The coastal conditions were similar to the Outer Banks, and we had a blast flying our kite on a different continent.

We have since married and moved to the Outer Banks, where I now work for Kitty Hawk Kites. Naturally, kite flying is a full-fledged hobby for me, and my quiver of kites has grown considerably. Kitty Hawk Kites was founded in 1974 by John Harris, first as a hang-gliding school and shop that sold and repaired hang gliders. Since then, the company has grown to include more than twentyfive retail locations along the east coast, offering kites, toys, games, apparel, footwear, and more. We opened our Barnegat Light location in 2019. It has been wonderful to see it quickly become part of the LBI community.

The Kitty Hawk Kites mission has always been: "To teach the world to fly." That mission remains our driving force, and Kitty Hawk Kites either operates, sponsors, or participates in ten or more kite festivals every year.

LBI FLY International Kite Festival, held annually on Columbus Day weekend in Ship Bottom, New Jersey is one of the most exciting festivals we support. There are kite fliers from around the world. Giant inflatable kites color the sky, including a panda, cow, octopus, cat, dog, fish...you name it. You can also witness some of the world’s best stunt kite and quad-line pilots flying in sequence or solo, creating a mesmerizing spectacle for the crowd.

Leonardo da Vinci said, “…once you have tasted flight you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skywards, for there you have been and there you will long to return.” I will never forget the first time I set a kite into the wind, and it has deeply impacted the course of my life. If flying a kite is something you have always wanted to do, or even if you haven’t considered it until just now...there has never been a better time to fly! —Ben Saltzman, Marketing Director, Kitty Hawk Kites

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rtists often look to the natural world for inspiration. It is then, no surprise they are often humbled by the greatest artist of all: Mother Nature. The way a leaf unfolds or a wave crashes against the shore can spellbind and transform us just as it does the world. One of the most mesmerizing, which has captivated humanity since our beginning, is lightning. This powerful arch of electricity not only creates intense heat and light but can produce an amazing work of art: Fulgurite, lightning’s sculpture of fused glass.

This delicate, natural work of art is created as hot plasma touches the earth, instantly fusing sand into the shape of the bolt as it travels through the ground. Hunting for this rare, captured lightning has grown into a popular beachcombing pastime.

Fulgurite is an irregular glassy tube produced when sand or siliceous soil is fused by a direct lightning strike. The resulting glass structure is usually hollow with the thickest portions being near the surface of the sand, with consecutive thinner branches spreading down and outward.

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A tremendous amount of energy is needed to create fulgurite. It seems to form best in sand with uniform mineral composition and electrical resistance. The minerals must be fusible at the temperatures reached by a bolt of lightning. It is believed the tubelike structure is caused by the rapid cooling of the glass; or by the proportions of the sand to mineral mixture in the ground, in which the glass was drawn to in a viscous state creating the mold.

Fulgurite is very fragile, unlike manufactured glass to which other elements that increase strength and temper are added in a controlled setting.

Many beachcombers come upon smooth gray stones in lightning-like shaped and believe they have found fossilized fulgurite. These “fulgurongs”, which often feature weird, sometimes symmetrical formations, are in-fact concretions. Concretions are a sedimentary rock formation that makes up the coastal bedrock of the eastern United States. Concretions sometimes form in successive layers around a nucleus, such as a shell or pebble. As the minerals within

a sediment precipitate, they harden, often into strange shapes.

These unusual stones can be further shaped by boring clams such as piddocks, or angel wings. The holes they bore continue to wear down after the animal dies and leave a Swiss cheese effect, sometimes resulting in a lightning bolt shape.

Hunting for fulgurite can at times feel like the proverbial wild goose chase as not all lightning storms guarantee a strike. Not to mention the fragile nature of the glassy tubes means there may be a limited time to find the treasure as fulgurite’s composition does not allow it to survive the harsh tumbling of the sea.

Like lightning, sometimes we must find the best places to touch down when searching for these fragile memories left behind by a storm. —Written and photographed by Sara Caruso

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ature presented me with a gift on this steaming-hot August morning on a drive to meet kids and grandkids for breakfast on the bay in Beach Haven.

heron did not move a feather. Strangely, he seemed to say, “Come closer, my dear.” So, I did.

The black-crowned night heron, known to be calm, almost A caravan of sea gulls glided across the horizon. From a preserve lethargic, sat hunched in his customary position ready to dive for a sanctuary at Island’s end — a chorus of tasty minnow snack into the bay below. lively birds whistled and chirped. Wild The early morning sun highlighted "The beauty and power of the clematis and rosebay scattered on the the bird’s striking plumage of black, seascape makes contemplatives of blue-gray, and white. Two long white dunes perfumed the air. Mixed in with the pungent scent of salt breeze wafting us all. The experience of an early plumes accentuated his black cap. in from low tide this heady scent morning drive along an ocean distracted my hunger pangs.

Russell McGregor, professor of at James Cook University in boulevard summons one to look history Reaching my destination at the end Australia in a recent internet article at the hidden places in the heart wrote, “Bird watchers know that if of Dock Road, I joined my family seated outdoors at Polly’s Dock. We sat are to conserve nature, we need and draws out a powerful sense we patiently awaiting scrambled eggs and the expertise of science, but we also of the miracles of creation." sausage, when suddenly I became aware need an emotional affinity with the of a colorful blurb of plumage that living things around us.” This idea had landed nearby. Abruptly, I dropped my coffee spoon, grabbed seems similar to Pope Francis’ call to preserve creation for future my camera, and cautiously approached. Sitting atop a piling was generations. Another author, Jonathan Rosen refers to birds as a beautiful creature, a black-crowned night heron (Nycticorax “The life of the skies,” in his book with the same title. nycticorax). Gingerly, I advanced toward this marvelous bird. Its beady red eyes stared back at me. I turned to my family who were I tapped the OFF button on my camera as the graceful bird greedily consuming the long-awaited breakfast and waved them flapped its elegant wings and headed to the wetlands for lunch. Just toward me. Their forks continued in motion. I tip-toed closer, the one more miracle on our Long Beach Island. —Fran Pelham

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ne of the best things about sea glass collecting is that no two finds are alike. Every piece is a different shape and tells the story of the area it was found. Some pieces look as if they were stretched and twisted like hot taffy. If you find sea glass like this, it is likely a piece of fire sea glass; glass that was melted in a fire, cooled by the waves and tossed by the tides.

This natural process results in sea glass with unique qualities and shapes. It is impossible to say what originally melted the fire sea glass, but we can make an educated guess if we learn the history of a shoreline.

Fire sea glass comes in many forms and has many names. More commonly, it is known as bonfire or campfire glass as it was once believed its only source was from bottles melted in beach bonfires. However, there are other possible sources such as historical and present-day structure fires and trash dump fires.

Prior to environmental regulation, some beaches were used as the municipal dump where open burning was utilized to reduce the volume of trash to make room for more. Trash fires may also have been the result of spontaneous combustion or vandalism. Structure fires at the shore have made headlines for generations and continue to do so. It is easy to underestimate the temperatures reached by these fires.

The melting point of most glass is between 1,200 to 1,400 degrees Fahrenheit. The starting temperature of the average bonfire is around 600 degrees. As wood is added gases increase, burn off and the temperature rises. Eventually the temperature of a bonfire can exceed 2,012 degrees. Old trash dumps would have contained a wide variety of refuse, including paper and household chemicals.

Depending on the fuel, a dump fire could have easily reach Page 74 • Echoes of LBI

temperatures above 1,600 degrees. In a structure fire, temperatures can top out at over 2,000 degrees. Any of these temperatures is more than sufficient to melt glass.

Some collectors confuse fire sea glass with fulgurite, glass created by lightning striking sand. Fulgurite is a very fragile tube-like glass structure and is a rare occurrence. Sea glass melted by a lightning strike is even less likely.

Fire sea glass is found in many forms. Occasionally, beachcombers find whole melted bottles that look squished and contorted.

Sometimes the sudden temperature change caused by cool ocean water hitting hot glass creates fire sea glass with an interesting crackle effect. On rare occasions when hot glass encounters waves, it instantly hardens around a water droplet creating a permanent water bubble. The water droplet can be seen moving inside the bubble when the fire sea glass is shaken. When waves meet hot glass there really is no end to the possibilities.

Aside from odd shapes, fire sea glass is also a time capsule for the history of the beach where it was found. Each piece of fire sea glass holds a little bit of its past; fragments of ash, wood, metal, and sand that adhered to the melted surface or became trapped inside as the melted glass liquified and cooled.

Fire sea glass embodies the power of one of nature’s most destructive forces. Its story is the prefect representation of everything sea glass is and will become; sand and minerals melted by fire, formed into glass, returned to the fire, changed, history gathered, washed by waves, and finally sand once more. —Written and photographed by Sara Caruso

Clockwise from the top left: October 3rd declared International Sea Glass Day by Ship Bottom. Reading the official proclamation, Vickie VanDoren. Best Overall Sea Glass Winner Saturday, Sharlene Roberts with her Czech glass bear charm found in New Jersey. Detail photo below.

Best Overall Sea Glass Winner Sunday, Diane Dale for her intact perfume stopper with bottle neck found on LBI. Guess the Sea Glass Winner, Linda Broderick guessed the exact number – 752.

Best Overall Fossil & Artifact Winner, Greg Olkowski with his boxfish skeletal piece. Detail photo above.

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hile beachcombing we sometimes come upon baffling finds, strange bones, or fossils. One of the most unusual is a bone that tells the history of the behemoths of the oceans, whales.

Though it was a land-going animal, Indohyus had a very dense involucrum like a whale. Indohyus was not technically a whale, however, it is a close link to their ancestral past. Whales inherited their dense involucrum from their hoofed, land-going relative.

At first glance, this bone may look like a fossil clam or even a skull. It is the auditory bulla, or involucrum, the bony cover of the middle ear system of a whale. In humans, it would be the equivalent of the temporal bone. Whales lack external ear openings. Instead, the lower jawbone of the whale is used to sense underwater vibrations. Fat around the ear bones transmits and enhances the sound. The density of the involucrum allows it to withstand extreme pressure encountered during deep ocean dives.

Fortunately, this density also makes for better fossilization, which is why involucrum are found on fossil digs and by beach combers.

Involucrum can be found inland in areas that were once covered by ancient oceans and along shorelines, especially in places with a history of whaling. Once a necessary industry, as the 20th century progressed, the commercial development of alternative fuels brought whaling in the United States to an end. Today, the small ear bones found on the beach, discarded during the processing of whale oil, are a tangible reminder of these precious leviathans of the past and the continued need to ensure their future.

The involucrum is an ancient cetacean trait found in both modern whales and in their fossil record. In 2007, paleontologists discovered a link to the very first whales in the middle ear bone fossil of Indohyus, a small deer-like mammal that lived 48 million years ago.

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As the future unfolds, we continue to recognize the importance of our oceans and the creatures in it. With each new discovery, we realize that science has barely scratched the surface of the vast knowledge the seas have to offer. The oceans and its creatures still hold mysteries not yet revealed. —Written and photographed by Sara Caruso

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Submit your favorite Long Beach Island postcards to echoesoflbi@gmail.com

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or Joseph Puccio of Hazlet, New Jersey, model building has been a life-long pursuit; one that his craftsmanship, skill, and nearly seventy years of experience have elevated to an art as reflected in his most recent piece, a detailed scale replica of the 1847 Baltimore Clipper, Harvey.

Recently, Mr. Puccio donated his hand-built replica of the Harvey

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to the New Jersey Maritime Museum in Beach Haven, New Jersey where it is now on display. Mr. Puccio holds a degree in physics from the Polytechnic Institute of Brooklyn College, now known as the Polytechnic Institute of New York University, and worked for Bell Labs in Holmdel, New Jersey where he was part of the team that developed fiber optic transmissions. —Written and photographed by Diane Stulga

Thanks to the generosity of Southern Ocean County residents during this coronavirus pandemic, Interfaith Health & Support Services of Ocean County (IHSS) has been able to distribute food, gift cards and funds to local food pantries. This aid and the work of selfless IHSS volunteers who put themselves at risk to provide services during these unprecedented times have helped seniors immeasurably and is so appreciated.

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ven at the height of the pandemic, IHSS’ doors remained open to the mission of providing services such as transportation to nonemergency doctor appointments, friendly visiting, shopping, phone reassurance calls and respite care to caregivers whose loved ones have Alzheimer’s. In fact, in the last year, IHSS’ food shopping and reassurance calls increased by more than 60%. Thanks to the support of the Causeway Family

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of Dealerships and the Ocean First Foundation, IHSS acquired a used twelve passenger van used to transport the elderly, isolated, and homebound to senior centers for a day of socialization and nutrition.

The brand-new Little Egg Harbor office now includes an area where seniors who are not able to physically get to the organizations that provide senior services can use IHSS computers and Zoom for a virtual visit to these sites. IHSS volunteers assist with the Zoom process so seniors can participate in programs and receive direct information from the State Health Insurance, Jersey Assistance for Community Caregiving, Pharmaceutical Assistance for the Aged and Disabled, Meals on Wheels, and many other programs. Volunteers in Little Egg Harbor and Manahawkin also visit the homebound, grocery shop, relieve a

primary caregiver, drive seniors to a routine medical appointment, provide pet therapy, conduct arts and crafts programs, do in-home hair cutting, and reassurance calls.

Donated free medical equipment is also available at both locations: Walkers, wheelchairs, and more are just a phone call away. A new program, in partnership with the Ocean County Library and thanks to the generous support of the Causeway Family of Dealerships and the Ocean First Foundation, will enable IHSS to transport care receivers to the library for senior events as well as the opportunity for them to sign out materials. For residents who are unable to physically enjoy the library setting, IHSS will act as the bridge between the library and the care receivers, assisting them in signing up for a library card, signing out, and delivering materials including audio books available on Playways. The library will supply Playways. IHSS will supply headphones and batteries.

Upcoming events for 2021 include the Annual Designer Bag Bingo on September 24 at St. Mary’s Parish Center. The Volunteer Recognition Dinner is scheduled for October 1. An exciting first tine Statewide Caregiver & Volunteer Conference is scheduled for October 23 at St. Mary’s Parish Center.

If you can volunteer, make a donation, have questions or know of someone who could use IHSS’ help, please call 609-879-5590 in Little Egg Harbor or 609-978-3839 in Manahawkin. —Story and photography courtesy of Arlene Schragger

At 100 years old, Millie Hughes recalls her life and times on Long Beach Island with great ease. Recently, she graciously shared some of her personal memories with Echoes of LBI Magazine.

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n 1934, when my parents purchased their home in Surf City — Long Beach Island was different in many ways,” said Millie. “Even the towns had different names. Barnegat Light was Barnegat City. Ship Bottom was Beach Arlington. Harvey Cedars was called High Point.”

Despite their small size, each LBI town had its own post office. “Beach Arlington’s was on 11th Street and Long Beach Boulevard,” said Millie.

“When I worked there in 1946 Mrs. Deorse was the postmistress. We received two daily deliveries and I sorted two bags of mail each day. Mail was not delivered, but instead was Page 86 • Echoes of LBI

placed in individual post office boxes. Everyone came to the post office to pick up their mail,” explained Millie.

In those days, shopping was much different.

According to Millie there was an Acme in Beach Haven where Murphy’s Market is located today.

Checking out was a unique experience.

“Mr. Kelly, the manager, wrote your grocery order on a brown paper bag with a pencil and added it up,” said Millie with a laugh. There were no computers or calculators in those days. Though there were few year-round residents the Island was served by two meat markets: Scotty’s in Surf City and Gray’s Meat Market in Barnegat. “Gray’s delivered on Fridays. Dugan’s delivered bread and baked goods from a horse-drawn wagon and

the milkman delivered milk from the Hi-Vita Milk Company in Ship Bottom,” explained Millie. “During the summer months — from Memorial Day thru Labor Day — half of Paxon’s drug store in Ship Bottom became an A & P grocery market.”

“A novelty store in Beach Arlington, owned by Mr. Redman was in an old trolley car,” recalled Millie. “Mr. Inman’s store in Beach Arlington, nicknamed ‘Johnny Wannamaker’s,’ sold everything from spoons to tires. Mr. Schwartz owned the five & dime store in Ship Bottom. His daughter married Manny Hand, and around 1965 the name of the store was changed to Hand’s.”

According to Millie, the Gateway Restaurant’s original owner, Emilio Guida, owned an ocean pier on 27th Street in Beach Arlington. “They sold ice cream, candy, and other treats. There were benches to sit on,” she said. “The pier was destroyed in the 1944 storm. The family then opened the Gateway Bar and restaurant. It’s still owned by the same family.”

Millie remembers the Surf City Skating Auditorium, a roller rink that was built in the 1940s. “On Friday nights it was a popular spot,” said Millie. “Various social events and holiday skating parties were held there throughout the years.” The U.S. Coast Guard also held benefits at the rink.

The popular indoor sport of bowling came to Manahawkin in the late 1940s or early 1950s when a bright orange, six-lane bowling alley was built on Bay Avenue.

According to Millie the building was

located near the current New Jersey Motor Vehicle Commission.

On a more serious note, Millie recalled LBI during World War II and how German submarines patrolled the coast of New Jersey. “[window] shades had to be pulled down tight so no lights could be seen by the submarines,” said Millie. She recalled February 1942 when the Standard Oil tanker R.P. Resor was torpedoed by a German submarine off the coast of Barnegat City. Flames from the blazing tanker could be seen for miles. Only two crew members survived. According to Millie, the survivors were taken to Paul Kimbell Hospital for treatment.

One of Millie’s fondest memories is of the Lucy Evelyn, the schooner that was brought to Beach Haven and converted into a

gift shop. According to Millie, getting the Lucy Evelyn into position was not easy. “She sat on a sand bar for months in Barnegat Bay. Finally, a large basin was built and at high tide, with the help of bulldozers, she was brought aground at Beach Haven,” said Millie.

With a glint of pride in her eyes, Millie confided that in her late twenties, while having fun with friends, she climbed the mast of the Lucy Evelyn.

“For a little while in the 1950s, I worked at a laundromat in Beach Haven that was owned by Mr. and Mrs. Shuck. It had a sorting room, wash tubs, manual wringers, and manglers. Laundry was folded on ten-foot-long tables,” said Millie. “They did the laundry for Deborah Hospital.”

Bell Telephone had an exchange in Beach Haven. Millie recalled the days when LBI only had the party line systems where two homes shared the same phone line. “When a call came in the party line rang in both houses,” said Millie. “Each house was assigned a different number of rings.”

“My sister, Dorothy used to write for the Beach Haven Times,”

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said Millie. “The pages were filled with local news, gossip, and engagement and wedding announcements. Most of the announcements were from summer residents and out of-town visitors.” It was the social media of the day.

Millie remembers local ice houses cutting huge blocks of ice from area frozen lakes and putting them in storage. Barnegat Bay would freeze so solid that people walked and drove across it. “Two boys from Barnegat City walked all the way across the bay to Barnegat High School,” said Millie. She smiled as she recalled that they took the bus home later that day.

Before Millie’s family bought a house on the Island, they rented one of Mrs. Thompson’s four bungalows on Long Beach Boulevard in Beach Arlington. “There were no closets, just large nails to hang clothes on and the water had to be boiled before we could use it,” said Millie with a laugh. “Mrs. Thompson had a coin-operated gas meter. My mother had to put in twenty-five cents to cook a meal.”

Through the century and its changes, Millie still calls Ship Bottom home. —Diane Stulga

O

n a warm, sun-filled day with blue skies all around, after nearly fifteen months of separation due to COVID-19 restrictions, my husband, Vic, and I were finally reunited with our family on Easter 2021. Our outdoor reunion was a Page 90 • Echoes of LBI

surprise for our granddaughters, Meghan and Maddy. Front row, left to right: Tina Hall, Meghan Hall, Chelsea Stulga, and Maddy Hall. Back row: Vic and Diane Stulga. —Diane Stulga.

Photography by Mike Demarco

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For more than twenty-years, the late Charles E. Moffett served as church historian for Kynett United Methodist Church of Beach Haven. He also served as a lay leader and as Chairman of the Administrative Council. As a retired history teacher, Charlie, as he was known to his friends, had a heart and head for history. Not long before his passing in January 2020 at age 89, Charlie generously shared a brief history of his church during an interview with Echoes of LBI.

K

ynett United Methodist Church in Beach Haven was originally organized as Kynett Methodist Episcopal Church of Beach Haven on May 5, 1888. It was the first year-round church on Long Beach Island. Every Sunday, to get to the church, the first pastor, S. J. Gwynne, sailed his boat from his home in West Creek to Beach Haven.

The history of the church began sometime before 1888 when the Sunday School Union established meetings in Beach Haven. The meetings, originally held in the waiting room of the old Pennsylvania Railroad Station on 3rd Street in Beach Haven, eventually moved to the schoolhouse located between Bay and Beach Avenue.

Two years later a wood-frame church was built on Beach Avenue between Centre and 2nd Streets in east Beach Haven. Bishop Whittaker dedicated the church building in 1891.

The church was named for Dr. Alpha

Then and now. Above: Methodist Episcopal Church of Beach Haven • Circa 1903.

Bottom: The Kynett United Methodist Church today. Opposite page: The sanctuary features a large, modified lancet-arched stained-glass window.

Jefferson Kynett, a clergyman and notable member of the 1864 General Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church, an organizer of the General Church Extension Society for the Methodist Episcopal Church, and secretary of the Board of

Church Extension for the Methodist Episcopal Church headquartered in Pennsylvania. During his tenure, Dr. Kynett was associated with the founding of thousands Methodist churches in the United States.

Until a parsonage could be built, a house across the street from the church served as a temporary residence for the pastor. In 1891 church trustees purchased a building lot on Engleside Avenue where Dr. E. H. Williams had the parsonage built.

In 1900, a plot of ground at the corner of Centre Street and Beach Avenue was purchased by the church. The following year the wood-frame church building was moved to that corner lot. The church steeple became a landmark that served as a guide for boaters in the bay until it was destroyed by a windstorm in 1903.

At that time, the first public library in Beach Haven was located next door in a building that was formerly a Friends

Meeting House. In 1929, when the library opened a new building at a different location, its trustees deeded the old library building to the church. It became the parish house.

On Palm Sunday, March 20, 1932, the church was destroyed by fire. Two items survived the blaze — a large Bible that is displayed in the church today and a wooden pew that now sits in the overflow room. In those days, the parish house stood independent from the church and was not damaged by the fire.

The congregation raised funds for the construction of a new church. While the new church was built, services were held at the Beach Haven fire house.

Five months later, on August 15th the cornerstone for the present church building was set in place. By January 1933, services were held in the new church and in August of that same year the building was dedicated. In honor of the original church, architect, George E. Savage — best known for designing protestant churches — included a bell tower in his plans for the Page 94 • Echoes of LBI

new church, which was built by contractor, Floyd L. Cranmer.

From its beginning, Kynett Methodist Church has been a source of strength and unity for the people of Beach Haven.

For more than a century the church and its members have faithfully worked together, serving God, each other, and the surrounding community.

Every year Kynett Methodist Church celebrates Anniversary Sunday

memorializing the 1933 dedication of the new church building. Since 1999 the annual Anniversary Sunday celebration has included the announcement of outstanding members. Charlie Moffett was recognized as an outstanding member that first year.

Since then, his wife, Carolyn Moffett, who has served for more than thirty-five years as administrative assistant to the pastor, was also honored as an outstanding member.

—Diane Stulga. Photography courtesy of Carolyn Moffett

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Barnegat Lighthouse • Circa 1930 All Rights Reserved. © 2020 Cheryl Kirby/Echoes of LBI Page 98 • Echoes of LBI

I

n 2020, Cheryl Kirby and Echoes of LBI Magazine received an extraordinary gift from Joy Lamping Milano, the Robert Fry Engle Photographic Collection. Spanning the mid-19th century through the mid-20th century, the collection — representing Engle's life's work — is comprised of glass plate negatives, celluloid negatives, and Engle’s original prints. The collection, in its entirety, is now part of the private photography collection of Cheryl Kirby and Echoes of LBI Magazine.

The rare images captured on fragile glass plate negatives, some more than 125 years old, include Engle’s well-known iconic photographs of Long Beach Island, as well as previously unseen images of the Island in addition to Engle’s pioneering travel photography of the American mid-west and Mexico. Within the collection the historical legacy of Long Beach Island and its people is recorded in the photography of Robert Fry Engle in portraiture, picturesque seascapes, landscapes, and winsome beach tableaux. The extraordinary images depict the evolution of Long Beach Island, some at a time when many photographers were wiping plates clean of images to re-use them.

Joy Lamping Milano, an LBI native, is credited for ensuring the

survival of the collection. Milano became the guardian of the collection upon the passing of her father, Jack Lamping, and subsequently entrusted the entire collection to Cheryl Kirby and Echoes of LBI Magazine.

Engle became one of America's first art photographers, or pictorialist producing the evocative style of the French impressionists.

Engle's photograph The Summer Was Sinking Low, depicting sailboats on a tranquil Barnegat Bay at sunset on Long Beach Island, was included in the 1896 Washington Salon and Art Photographic Exhibition in Washington, D.C., the first art photography salon in the United States to establish photography as a valid form of artistic expression.

From that exhibit, Engle's photograph was chosen by the Smithsonian Institution to be among the first fifty art photographs selected for its new national photography collection. Selected prints were considered excellent examples of amateur photography in the United States, best illustrating creative impressionistic and expressive pictorialist style.

The collection illuminates Robert Fry Engle’s preeminence as a photographic artist. —Susan Spicer-McGarry

The War Comes Home The Cause of the Norwegian Fishermen of Barnegat Light

E

ighty-one years ago, Hitler’s Germany took the next step in its invasion of Europe and brought the reality of this far away war home for the Norwegian-Americans of Barnegat City, New Jersey, who together with their native brothers and sisters would answer the call of duty on both fronts of the war.

On April 9, 1940, German forces advanced north to Norway and its strategic fjordland ports that could be used as a vantage point to attack the United Kingdom more easily from across the North Sea. While some Norwegians were already allied with the workers parties in Germany and other countries across Europe that had been active for years, supposedly fighting to bring about national unity and rights for the working poor, the vast majority recognized the Nazi party and its domestic sympathizers in Vidkun Quisiling’s National Union party for what they were — fascist radicals.

Appeasement was accepted policy in Norway, which maintained neutrality with all sides. The National Union, though, was not in agreement with the tradition of pacifism emanating from Oslo. They wanted to join Germany and Italy in a new Europe. No sooner had Hitler’s army and navy attacked the county than Quisling launched a failed coup d’état that saw his party gain power a few years later in occupied Norway. Ahead of the invasion, which Germany publicly declared was for Norway’s protection from the United Kingdom, the country’s rightful leader, King Haakon VII, rejected

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Hitler’s demands to appoint Quisling prime minister of a new government lest his kingdom be destroyed. This led to a desperate months-long retreat ever northward for the unyielding king and government officials with help from the British Royal Navy while German bombers gave chase. Haakon was finally forced into exile in the United Kingdom in June.

As the shock of the invasion unfolded, officials of the legitimate government of Norway took steps to follow in the footsteps of King Haakon, whose motto “All for Norway” would become a rallying cry throughout the struggle to retake the country.

One such official was Mathias Moe, head of the Royal Norwegian Consulate in Philadelphia. Like many, shock soon gave way to resolve. In a statement, he declared, “I am satisfied this crisis has come as a bewildering surprise to the Norwegian people. I am afraid they were unprepared.

They have no great standing army. That is natural, because the country has been at peace with the world since 1841.” He ended with a portent of what was to come for the pacifist nation. “The Norwegians are a race of magnificent courage.” The courage he described would soon define the Norwegian fight against Nazi Germany, which had already begun in Barnegat City a world away.

That summer, the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin reported on the talk among Barnegat City’s sizable Norwegian fishing population, and it was as salty as could be expected. Nearly all had been born

and raised in Norway, some wanted to stick Hitler in a lobster pot and sink it in Barnegat Bay. Sig Johnsen had more explosive ideas. Holding a couple of glass fishing net floats while speaking to the reporter, Sig told him, “If these floats were grenades, I’d throw them at Hitler.”

This sentiment turned into activism and fundraising. Norwegian relief organizations were formed across the country in the wake of King Haakon’s flight. In Ocean County, the Long Beach Island Aid Norway Committee organized Island-wide community events to raise awareness.

Members and leaders included a who’s who of Island governance and Scandinavian heritage: Howard Shifler, Lester Hoft, Jack Lamping, Rev. Ragnar Kjeldahl, Mrs. Adolph Jensen, Joseph Sen, Mrs. Edward Sprague, Lena Schrayshuen, Peder Nordstrand, A. H. Mowry, Mrs. Christine Benestad, Axel Jacobsen, Niels Ecklund, Hans Olsen, Fred and Karl Held, and Tonnes Bohen.

When the traditional summer openhouse day approached in August 1940, it offered another opportunity for the exiled Norwegian government to rally support.

The formerly saddened consul Moe was by this time leading the charge before concerned Americans in the region. At the Barnegat City firehouse that August a dinner, Norwegian dances, raffles, and a speech by Moe before hundreds from up and down Barnegat Bay was planned.

Throughout the day, fishermen’s daughters went door to door asking for support and handing out “I have aided Norway” buttons.

Money in a donation jar and festivities were only the beginning of the courage the Norwegian fishermen of Barnegat City and the home country would show.

In the wake of the invasion, the hardiest fishermen in Norway fell in with the British Royal Navy and intelligence service to begin what would become known as the Shetland Bus. Over the next five years Norway’s fishermen volunteered their boats and their skills at the helm to evacuate refugees and government officials and covertly transport military supplies, secret agents, and intelligence in and out of occupied Norway from the Shetland Islands north of Scotland, 200 miles across the North Sea. On the other side of the Atlantic, those fishermen’s Norwegian brethren sailing in and out of Barnegat Inlet would be no less heroic. When the United State was finally

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dragged into the war by the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, the horror of war came to American shores, though it was downplayed through the U.S. War Department’s strict control of media.

From January to June 1942, German U-boats savaged American merchant ships along the East Coast. One of the epicenters of activity and the site of the most visible attacks were the waters off Barnegat City.

Four tankers were torpedoed, two within sight of shore. The Norwegian fishermen at the docks on 6th and 18th Streets, along with their fellow fishermen of all stripes and the U.S. Coast Guard, did not hesitate to rush headlong into an active battle zone as the U-boats stalked the broken tankers burning on the water, sometimes firing on the would-be rescuers.

After years of bloodshed and oppression, Norway was retaken in the spring of 1945.

On June 7, nearly five years to the day he

was forced to flee, King Haakon returned and re-established the exiled government.

In a post-liberation speech Haakon consoled his traumatized nation and scattered people, calling on Norwegians to begin the arduous work that lay ahead.

“Today we all have the same feelings. Let us keep that unity that gave us victory. And let us, in this moment, remember those who paid the ultimate price in the struggle for Norway. Let us gather in the promise — All for Norway!”

That struggle in the face of tyranny and evil, which claimed more than 10,000 Norwegian lives, began with a defiant king, a courageous people, and grassroots events like those in the Barnegat City firehouse one warm August day long ago. —Reilly Platten Sharp, Barnegat Light Historical Society and Museum

“B

loody John” Bacon and William Franklin made for strange bedfellows during America’s Revolutionary War. One man was the royal governor of New Jersey and son of a Founding Father; the other, a Pine Barrens malcontent who roamed the nearby woods and beaches pursuing a reckless, violent life of crime.

But how did such a pair join forces? What common goals could these two men have possibly shared?

If you lived on Long Beach Island during the last half of the 18th century, on any given day you might look out past the breakers and set your sights on the comings and goings of pirates. In stolen sloops and schooners, purloined brigantines and barques, desperate men of questionable character cruised the coast picarooning those merchant ships often less well-armed. Some of these sea dogs were locals, others from distant ports-of-call; all keen it seems on criminality, chasing down their prey for its treasured booty, often at the business end of a flashing sword or cannon ball.

“Bloody John” Bacon, Pine Barrens born and bred, living at various times in Manahawkin or Pemberton, was one such villain as adept at mischief on land as at sea. Treachery was his calling card — murder his middle name. With a ragtag crew of Piney misfits, his reputation for terror and mayhem only grew in those years which spanned the Revolutionary War. Up in Perth Amboy, then New Jersey’s capital, political life was hardly less exciting for William Franklin, the son of Benjamin Franklin, who had served with distinction as royal governor for more than a decade. His British masters in Parliament, sensing the Colony’s itch for independence, were nervous, and Franklin would soon need to decide — Patriot or Loyalist — which would be his side. Remain loyal to the Crown which paid his way, providing a royal lifestyle? Or switch his allegiance to the thirteen upstart Colonies whose very survival was hardly assured.

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By January 1776, as the drumbeat for independence grew, Franklin’s choice was made. Arrested and charged with supporting the Loyalist cause, he was held for two years in a Connecticut jail.

But upon his release — unrepentant and unbowed — he doubled down in support of the British Crown and formed The Board of Associated Loyalists. Sanctioned by King Charles “to annoy the sea-coasts of the revolted Provinces to disrupt their trade,” he recruited a band of guerrillas to harass American Patriots on New Jersey’s southern shore.

At the top of Franklin’s wish list to lead such a force was “Bloody John” Bacon, who, with his Pine Robber Refugees, roamed the woods from Tuckerton to Toms River. Taking full advantage of his newly minted Captain status, Bacon not only fulfilled Franklin’s wishes but exceeded them, plundering with impunity Patriots and Loyalists alike.

Bacon, you see, was a man without a country, loyal to neither side, who used the war as a cover for his crimes, as raids in 1781 on innocents in Waretown and Soper’s Point do prove. But it would not be until the following year that “Bloody John” made his blackest mark, a stain so great he lives in infamy today, as the instigator of The Massacre at Long Beach.

On the afternoon of October 25, 1782, Bacon and his men got wind that a Dutch cutter, with a valuable shipment of tea, had run aground on Barnegat’s shoals. The wind was cold and the seas were high, his informer told him, and the local militiamen who were off-loading the vessel would need to suspend their work at nightfall and seek shelter in the dunes; the perfect time to strike.

Sailing from the mainland in his whale boat, Hero’s Revenge,

Bacon and nine others beached their craft on the bay side of the Island and approached the camp at first-light. Silently drawing their knives, they fell upon the men, murdering many as they slept. The cries of the others were heard aboard a nearby vessel, Alligator, riding at anchor just offshore. But by the time help arrived it was too late — all twenty-five men were slain or wounded. The Patriot leader, Captain Andrew Steelman, was among the dead.

When word of the slaughter reached Governor William Livingston, a bounty of 50 pounds was placed on Bacon’s head, quickening the urgency for his capture. But still the desperate outlaw slipped into the pines with more havoc left in him.

For William Franklin, things were not much better. Fearing that the war was lost, Loyalist volunteers, once eager to sacrifice life and limb, were having second thoughts. Bacon must have known this too, for in late December 1782, with Britain’s defeat assured and Burlington County’s Mansfield Militia in hot pursuit, his

camp near Cedar Bridge Tavern was overrun — most of his band captured or killed — in what has come to be known as “the final skirmish of the Revolutionary War.” Yet “Bloody John,” alone now and wounded, eluded his captors once more, and several months would pass before he was tracked down to face the bayonet and ball inside a West Creek tavern.

His lifeless body was brought to Arneytown, Burlington County, and buried in an unmarked grave.

The end of the road had come for Franklin as well. Forced to flee, he sailed posthaste for London. Estranged from his famous father and left out of old Ben’s will when he died in 1790, William lived his last twenty-four years in English exile.

And so concludes the story of the pirate and the printer’s son.

One man, with two countries, who had to choose which one he’d lose; the other man, without a single one, whose life was bent and broken. —Andrew Flack. Artwork by Carol Freas

“D

they opened the business on the circle in Ship Bottom.

Surf City Fishery, on the Boulevard at 9th Street in Ship Bottom is still there.

At the south end of the Island were Sun Fishery in the Holgate area and Beach Haven Fishery.

addy! Daddy, can I come?

I won’t get in the way!” pleaded five year old Kris Anderson. Before his father, Charlie, could say no, the largest man in the crew, John Christiansen, nicknamed Big Stiff, hoisted the boy into the 35-foot skiff and ordered, “Now you stay in that corner!”

With a nod from his stunned mother, Marge, the crew — all partners in the Crest Fishery in Beach Haven Terrace — pushed the wooden boat through the waves and clamored over the gunnels. John was the bowman, while Charlie, Henry Bordwick, brothers Tonnes and Ben Bohn manned the twelve-foot oars and rowed swiftly a half mile east toward the horizon to check their pounds — traps made of heavy rope designed to catch masses of fish.

From the mid-19th through the mid-20th

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century a method of commercial fishing known as pound fishing, emulating traditional fishing methods of the Lenni Lenape on a much larger scale, was used off the shores of Long Beach Island. Besides the Crest Fishery, there was Barnegat City which used the north inlet to reach a dock on the bay.

When train service ended in the late 1930s,

The pound fishermen drove hickory posts, delivered from North Carolina ranging in length from sixty to ninety feet. into the ocean floor at intervals of thirty feet. Ropes were then strung horizontally above the waterline from pole to pole. From those lines, more ropes were fastened to heavy chains resting on the bottom sand. Known as the weir, it would steer the huge schools of fish toward an enclosure of more poles and nets. This was the forebay which guided the fish into a net funnel and finally into to a forty-foot square net enclosure called the pound.

Each morning at daybreak, the fishermen arrived to pull up the full pound net. A man positioned fore and aft hauled the heavy net over the gunnel. Other men, using long handled dip nets, scooped the slippery catch into the hold. The empty net went back into the ocean. The skiff then headed to shore, oftentimes with as much as 15,000 pounds of fish.

While returning to shore, the catch was loaded into tarred, flat woven baskets that held fifty pounds each.

On the east side of the breakers, the men in the skiff waited for a set of six to eight waves to pass — known as picking a slat — using the power of the following wave to shoot across the sand bar.

On shore, Clydesdale horses hitched to block and tackle pulled the boat ashore over heavy wood rollers beyond the high tideline. Next the fish were sorted, repacked with layers of ice in wood boxes and 200-pound barrels and sent by train to markets in Philadelphia and New York.

Jovial workers would toss a fish to a kid on the beach who happily ran home with it for dinner. Depending on the season, the principal catch was whiting, mackerel, shad, flounder, weakfish, blue fish, kingfish, and large butterfish. The squid, moss bunker, and small butterfish were frozen and sold locally for bait, nothing went to waste. A good day could bring in two boat loads. A 1930 report lists 128 licensed fish pounds along the New Jersey coast, harvesting thirty-four million pounds of fish, and employing nearly six hundred men.

It was arduous work for these self-sufficient, sturdy Scandinavian men who established fisheries on LBI in 1916. The fishermen worked the pounds from late March to November with Sundays off. They lived in a bunkhouse near the beach and were paid $60 a month with room and board which included high calorie, hearty meals.

The cook rattled pots and pans at 4:30 am, serving eggs, potatoes, meat, and bread with strong coffee. A huge dinner of fish, piles of chops, bread, and seasonal vegetables awaited at mid- day. There would be cold food for sandwiches left for the evening meal.

Ashore, the fishermen’s chores continued in the afternoon: resetting poles damaged by storms; cleaning and mending nets clogged with seaweed or torn by sharks; tarring baskets and new nets spread on the dune grass to dry. In the off hours, the men played as hard as they worked. They would meet their wives and locals to dance Page 110 • Echoes of LBI

a shodish at Kubel’s or Han’s Bar with a ten-cent Schmidt’s beer in hand. Or sing their traditional drinking songs over a lager at the Hudson House, the Acme Bar or another favorite local watering hole.

By the 1940s the monthly salary of a pound fisherman had grown to $200.

Methods had also changed: Boats now used gasoline engines, the Clydesdales — replaced by tractors — went to pasture on the mainland, and the catch was transported to market by truck. A severe nor’easter in November 1935 destroyed the trestle bridge across Manahawkin Bay ending all train service. In 1914, a low, wooden trestle bridge for autos had opened.

The bridge was replaced with much fanfare in 1957 and again in 2016.

After World War II, the huge schools of fish had dwindled. Many old timers contend bigger drag net boats damaged the ecosystem and hurt the industry. By 1950, only the Crest Fishery remained. Replacing

worn equipment was scarce and expensive, so in 1956 the crew traded their nets for other tools. Kris’s dad, Charlie, continued to operate the Crest Fishery as a retail seafood store until the mid-1960s.

Kris Anderson worked with his Dad’s crew through college, even during breaks in his job as a charter boat mate. He went on to teach in the special education department at Southern Regional High School, where he met and married Marge McKay, a home-economics teacher who had moved here from Maine. Before and after retirement, he traveled and fished many other waters but has always been deeply anchored here on LBI. His story is a unique part of the Island’s history. It is a story of people working as a team in harsh elements, building strength and trust to make our community a wonderful place to live. —Carol Freas. Photography from the Kris Anderson Collection, courtesy of Karl Anderson

I

have always loved to paint. As a child I was often found in front of an easel splashing colors. Later, while taking classes in oil, acrylic, watercolor, and gouache, my interest in art grew.

In 1970 I moved to Ocean County, just a stone's throw away from Long Beach Island. Its beautiful beaches, museums, and art galleries were a great inspiration for me. On a whim I would drive over the bridge to sit on a dune, sketch, watch the children play, or walk along the breakers.

During the 1980s and 1990s an old art form called tole and decorative painting attracted my attention. It consists of flowery Page 114 • Echoes of LBI

ornate designs painted on useful objects made of wood and tinware. I practiced simple brush strokes, then began applying them to everything that would stand still — furniture, walls, stepstools, watering cans, T-shirts, and even seashells. I enjoyed creating nautical themes on the shells, and I loved going to the Island on bright sunny days to collect them. It proved to be a delightful task during all four seasons of the year.

After five decades of living and painting at the New Jersey shore, LBI continues to inspire me. Currently, I have returned to the challenge of watercolors, aiming to express with a colorful palette the beauty of nature and the wonders of the sea. —Joyce Ecochard.

Photography by Ruth Newbern

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