Echoes of LBI 2022 Spring into Summer Edition

2022 Spring into Summer Edition

Long Beach Island Arts and Lifestyle Magazine

elcome back to eighteen glorious miles of LBI. For me, it’s always a thrill to watch the Island reawaken each spring as people, birds, and flowers return.

For those of you who spent the winter off-Island, the nor’easter of January 28 and 29, 2022 brought one of the best snowstorms in years, with some areas receiving more than twenty inches. Winds gusted over 35 mph and snowdrifts covered doors. If you’ve never walked the beach in falling snow, you should. There’s something uniquely beautiful about waves, sand, and snow.

Spring on LBI has been chilly, wet, and genuinely windy. The nor’easter that arrived for Mother’s Day hung off the coast for four tides. Thankfully, there wasn’t as much flooding as expected. It was a slow grinding storm that lasted much too long. We lost a lot of beach, but the next day the west wind flattened the rough ocean a bit. When the wind direction changed local surfers hit the beach to enjoy the 50-degree water and great waves.

For those who were lucky enough to be in the right spot at the right time, the sea glassing was good after the May storm.

Northeast wind churns up the ocean and the west wind blows the top layers of sand off the beach to expose the sea glass and other ocean treasures deposited by tides. This storm brought lots of sea glass, tons of moon shells, and a bounty of sand crab molts that were greeted on the tideline by multitudes of hungry sea gulls.

The weather warmed up very quickly during the third week of May, a sure sign that the halcyon days of summer will soon be here. Though this early hot spell may not last long. Rapid weather changes are part of Island life. The barometer and radar are an Islander’s best friend.

This year you will find many changes in my hometown of Harvey Cedars. New homes, new businesses, businesses with new owners, and time-tested businesses expanding. One of the businesses I grew up with was The Ship’s Wheel. It was sort of a general store for kids, or at least we thought it was. They sold everything from paper dolls and art supplies to party goods and books. The original Ship’s Wheel was lost to the March storm of 1962 and rebuilt. Two new businesses, BLue East Salon and Harvey Cedars Pizza now occupy the building. Wyndecrest Home also moved but just one hundred feet to the next block.

Ages ago, we called that part of Harvey Cedars “uptown.” To us, Mom’s, which is now Agnello’s Market, was “downtown.”

It was just one long block from our house on Essex Avenue to the store on Camden Avenue. As kids, we loved Mom’s with its soda fountain ice cream counter, red Naugahyde covered bar stools that turned, and pinball machines. My sister Merry’s favorite was the store’s penny candy case. My older brother, Bobby Van Meter, spent a lot of time at Mom’s.

During the storm of 1962, Bobby and some of his friends rescued two Atlantic City Electric workers when their truck was washed out and overturned near Mom’s. My brother was out in the storm seeing what he could do to help when he and some friends saw the situation with the electric company truck and helped the men to safety.

The March storm destroyed most of Mom’s building. It was rebuilt and has since then been home to several businesses.

From now through the end of the year, LBI hosts many family events. Join us for off-season events like the annual LBI Sea Glass and Art Festival (@lbiseaglassfest), Chowderfest, the LBI FLY International Kite Festival, and many more. For information visit the Southern Ocean Chamber of Commerce in Ship Bottom at visitlbiregion.com.

If your LBI business is new, renovated, or expanding contact Echoes of LBI Magazine for a mention and to provide an update.

As always, it takes a village to publish an issue of Echoes.

Enjoy more sunsets!

Cheryl Kirby Publisher, Echoes of LBI Magazine

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

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magine a toddler cradling a large art book, half the size of herself.

Gail South’s parents, both of whom were artists, let her pick up and page through their art books such as, Masterpieces of Art. When a painting caught her eye, three-year-old Gail would point to the page and beg her mother to tell the story of the painting.

Her father also played a key role in the artistic development of his young prodigy. When she was five years of age, he placed a camera in her hands, encouraging her in their backyard to photograph birds and butterflies and whatever caught her eye.

Decades later Gail would pick up a camera once again and photograph the beauty of nature. This time, she would develop her photographs in a new media, beyond the watercolors and acrylics used by her parents and other

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traditional artists. That new art form was digital art; and Gail South has mastered the media into an elegant, vibrant art form.

Back in 1986 when Gail worked for IBM as a multi-media consultant, she noticed a secretary using clip art for a company newsletter.

Fascinated by its versatility, South began experimenting with computer graphics, eventually learning to use photo editing software. She wondered if computer technology could be employed to create her artistic vision of photography. That desire, coupled with her expertise with a camera, galvanized her work into digital art.

Her style emerged from this experimentation in enhancing photographs.

For South, experimentation is key to her art. “My parents painted in watercolor and acrylic. A mistake is not always easy to correct,” South says. “However, in digital art, which has a fractal/mathematical progression, I can reverse any step along the way.”

Light is highly important to her work, and “fantasy and layers of data lead to my best work.” South hopes to leave a legacy of the “appreciation of beauty in the world around us, and in the tiniest of created

things. We need to look at nature the way a child does with curiosity and wonder.

The birds that land in my pine trees and the way light falls on a ripple in a wave, leave an imprint upon the land,” that South manages to capture in her extraordinary art.

In her work, South juxtaposes light, color, bold patterns, and interesting graphics. Much of her work was “accomplished on travel with my husband, Jerry, who is an important support in many ways. He’s my monopod,” she laughs. “I focus my Canon 5D on a subject, then lean on his steady shoulder to snap the photo. Invariably, I can’t wait to return home and print out my treasures.” —Fran Pelham.

Artwork by Gail South

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ast summer, our family planned an overnight at a hotel on the Bayfront Landing of Lake Erie, in Erie, Pennsylvania, a short drive from where we live. In the lobby/dining room of our hotel, was a large, three-foot photograph of a seagull — or rather just the legs of the seagull. While I have enjoyed watching the antics of seagulls on both lake shores and Atlantic ocean beaches, I found this focused perspective both amusing and inspirational.

After my granddaughter posed for a photo under the commercial print, I was inspired to play with this image using other media. The results, far smaller than the original, were done in fabric, acrylic paints and watercolor.

The fabric rendition was the most fun, as I created those knobby knees using pipe cleaners and scrunched up marbleized fabric, left over from a previous quilt challenge. All three pieces now reside in my little beach house in Surf City. Although I don’t see many seagulls with pink legs on our beaches, the art pieces continue to make me smile. —Cynthia Andes Page 16 • Echoes of LBI

THE WRACK LINE SCULPTURE CONTEST LBI Sea Glass & Art Festival, October 1 & 2, 10am-4pm 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 G-rated. 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 2rd, between 11AM to 2PM. Judging at 2:30PM. Sculptures must be picked up after the contest.

Be inspired by our previous winners on Facebook @lbiseaglassfest More festival events on page 76 2021 Wrack Line Contest Winners, clockwise from the top right: 2021 Entry table featuring several wonderful sculptures.

Children's entry winner – Lilliana A., We’re Eating Good Tonight 3rd Place – Dean Heiler, Sea Glass Fish 2nd Place – Linda Hochuli, Desk Caddy Honorable Mention – Maureen Newman, Man vs. Nature Children's entry winner Emerson Z., Bottle Cap Crab Best Overall – Lois Mullen, Sandy Claus the LBI Beachcomber

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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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BEHIND THE COUNTER I may never be able to scrub off This adolescent coffee haze.

It clings to my hair And sits in the gaps between my fingers, No match for shampoo or simple hand soap.

I refuse to leave behind the bells That sound while the door swings open, Or the scream of the steaming wand As too much air rushes into the milk.

Espresso grinds hang onto me Like grains of sand on wet skin, Embedded under my clipped fingernails As if they’ve become a part of me.

My jeans are stained brown.

My hands are stained brown.

My favorite white sneakers are stained brown.

A picture of too much scalding hot coffee Spilled and splattered over the years.

Each summer I come crawling back.

Back to the easy conversation Across the counter, The meaningless talk of weather, The fishermen sipping their black coffee And complaining of the tide.

—Kelly McElroy

ROOTS ARE FOUND The tree in your yard was like a family member, With so many seasons and changes to remember, When you look out back it has to be so hard, To see that your tree is no longer in your yard.

In the Summer it provided you with shade, In the Winter cold and barren there it stayed, In the Spring the birds were perched all day, In the Fall the squirrels would frolic and play.

Your tree was full of memories shared by all, No cherished memory kept was ever too small, Over fifty years ago it was planted in the ground, It is still there where its “ROOTS ARE FOUND.” Your circle of life gift measures time as you can see, It was made as a remembrance of your Family Tree, May it be a reminder of those times spent together, Knowing that it will remain in your hearts forever!

—Written and photographed by Diane Stulga

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Reflection on Hope is the Thing with Feathers For all the noise that fills the world There’s little space it seems That's left for us to listen to The sweet song of our dreams.

The tiny wing`ed singer sits Alone, undaunted, free The hollows of the lonely night Ring with her fervent plea.

So raise the drawbridge to your soul Hold discord at arm's length But clear the way into your heart Let hope renew your strength.

—Joseph Guastella. Story on page 58

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F

or years, hermit crabs have been the first pets for many beachgoers. They can be a wonderful way to teach a child how to properly care for small animals. Unfortunately, when it comes to choosing a new friend, many judge a hermit crab not by temperament and health, but by the look of its shell. Often this means choosing a hermit crab with a colorful painted shell, or one with a famous character or favorite sports team emblem on it.

However, painted shells are dangerous, not only to the crab, but potentially your child.

Purple pinchers (Coenobita clypeatus) are the most common species of hermit crabs sold in stores due to their hardiness and ease of adaptability. Hermit crabs can live up to forty years in captivity.

Like any other pet, a hermit crab should be seen as a member of your family and not as a souvenir. And just like other pets, it is important to understand the care a hermit crab needs to live a long and healthy life. That care starts with selecting a hermit crab with a natural, unpainted shell.

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While they may look pretty, painted shells can be deadly to hermits. Though not connected to their bodies, the shell is an important part of the crab's biology. Paint contains chemicals which overtime, can seep into their food and water supply because hermit crabs like to sit in their food and water dishes. Additionally, hermit crabs store water in their shell, which they pass over their gills to breathe. Often wet paint gets inside the shell and does not dry before the crab moves in. As the paint dries, the crab becomes stuck and cannot exit the shell where it slowly dies from starvation or suffocation. Natural shells also help regulate the crab's body temperature. Anything on the shell's surface may prevent this process leading to stress and ultimately death. Besides the dangers to hermit crabs, painted shells can be hazardous to children.

Many painted shells originate from the Pacific fishing trade and are sold wholesale from overseas. The paint used is unregulated and may contain lead, a well-known hazard. Lead was banned for use in house paint and children’s products in the United States in

1978; however, it is still widely used in other countries.

Children may be exposed to lead from shells coated with lead paint.

It is important to pick a hermit crab based on temperament and health instead of its shell. Look for one with a calm nature. A hermit crab that is climbing and active is good, but hyperactivity or skittishness might be a sign of stress. If the hermit crab looks lethargic or has the smell of an old boot, it may be ill.

Hermit crabs usually change shells once a year after a molt when they grow. Sometimes they'll change if their shell is damaged. When choosing shells for your new friend, choose natural ones with wide, circular openings, such as turban and moon shells. Be sure the new shells have an opening slightly larger than the one the crab currently occupies. Place a few shells in the crab’s habitat around the full moon, especially after a molt. They're more likely to do it at night when they feel safe, so give them some privacy. It's important to remember animals do what they want, and we must be patient. Natural shells are beautiful, healthy home for your hermit crabs, and there are so many to choose from. Your new friends will thank you, even if they can't say it. Remember, hermit crabs are living creatures and should never be treated as toys or summer souvenirs. —Written and photographed by Sara Caruso

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ouse training is an important part of owning a new puppy. Having a defined space, like a crate where your puppy sleeps and feels safe is key. At about twelve to sixteen weeks old, when they have enough control, take them outside to begin house training.

Start in the morning after you wake up, and every thirty minutes to an hour until they get used to your routine. Give them praise every time they go so that they associate being outside with a positive experience.

Be sure to keep your puppy on a feeding and walking schedule. And of course, remember to have patience with your new family member. It may take several months to a year to be fully trained, but with praise, patience, and lots of love your puppy will be successful.

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

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Written and photographed by Joseph Guastella FIRST LIGHT

SKY

Went out wandering early wanted A head start on living clean Headed east drove toward dawn Ran outta road came upon The last lonely sunrise Of month and old year.

High above rock jetty On land Ol' Barney Stands beacon ready The inlet passageway to show Go slow they say stay steady Through breakneck night-black Rollers they jibe and tack Where currents eddy Hulls will surely crack.

The lighthouse view A "10 degrees of winter" frieze As yesterday crawls off On her knees under a hard Yes a hard stingin' Like bees it is west-wind Don’t look back Goodbye and Godspeed.

SEA

Today the sea is lying Lower than she should Leveled flat without a fight It seems to my face Under weighted wind Shear she submits So strangely calm I wonder Why as I perceive The swell of tide undaunted Work of waxing gibbous moon Reach for me on frozen dune.

Wind whipped sand sweeps past Footsteps to the edge Slips into the gape Where something lies in wait Quiet under The final furl of water Sidling up to land...

A presence sensed As if some Circe-conjured Shadow smooth of scale Leather-skinned swims below Rolls slowly over Heaving her twilit form against Atlantic's liquid lid The tick of time slows Enough for burning ears To hear The siren’s tempting hiss Enough for bitten lip To feel the smack And taste of briny kiss While dragon-wing’d winds dash Waves into goosebumps On her puckered hide.

Unfazed blue grey sky-face looks On lit by what early light Did pierce the covering cloud To show a grey-toothed Horizon guarding the unknown Far off where sea fades Sphere bends toward tomorrow.

Fire-streaked shafts climb Up the other side of day Fling shards of glass on Quivering wet pools Where flat tongues lap land Sink into sucking Sand and the next rise Dips shoreward toward home.

A glimpse of Homer's dawn Whose ancient fingers Rosy still with soft Caress do coax my Titan eye to ope Behold the heavens' bowl Of growing blue by Atlas borne upon his back.

Wonder Alive in my open mouth Unspoken words burn Along with lung-sucked Icy-needled breath.

Blood thins Still swims in vein Waterways where faith and hope Flow and ebb as well away.

This poem was inspired by a morning walk to Barnegat Light on December 31, 2017.

I was able to bring the walk back with me through photographs I took along the way.

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alters Bicycles of Ship Bottom, New Jersey is Long Beach Island’s authorized dealer of Pedego® Electric Bikes, the number one electric bike brand in the United States.

Recently, as a way of giving back to their community, Walters Bicycles and Pedego® LBI donated two Pedego® Ridge Rider special edition electric bikes to the Ship Bottom Police Department.

A green alternative transportation, the innovative “pedal or not” electric bikes allow for greater mobility to move through traffic — promoting faster response times, enhancing public service, and fostering community relationships.

Tom and Pat of Walters Bicycles would like to express their appreciation to Don DiCostanzo, co-founder and Chief Executive Officer of Pedego® Electric Bikes for helping to make this project possible. —Susan Spicer-McGarry. Photography

by Denis Kirby

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Sorrow has frozen my world.

Tears of ice and sadness settle into my bones.

My spirit is stark white.

Winter has claimed me.

I lift my face to catch a glimpse of faint sunlight, Seeking warmth.

Waiting for this coldness to thaw, I am comforted by my memories of you.

—Written and photographed

by Maggie O'Neill

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NAUTICAL & NATURAL DESIGN • CELEBRATING 48 YEARS ON LONG BEACH ISLAND

Home & Wedding Decor • Original Art • Shells & Shark Teeth • Authentic Sea Glass Artisan Jewelry • Books by Local Authors • Gourmet Foods

Customize your living space • Drop by for a consultation 406 Long Beach Blvd. • Ship Bottom, NJ 08008 • 609.361.1668 • thingsadrift.com

Follow us @thingsadrift

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n March of 2020, I left my tiny New York apartment to spend the week at my family’s Harvey Cedars home while the COVID-19 pandemic quickly came and went. As we all know, and as I write this from Harvey Cedars ...it’s been slightly longer.

In those cold March days, I watched in awe as surfers ran fearlessly down my street, surfboards in hand to ride the winter waves and thought, That’s insane...but wait, I want to do that too! Seizing the unique opportunity of a remote work environment, I started my surf journey at thirty.

With lessons in Barnegat Light with the amazing surf instructor and sand guru, Seth VanDorn, I learned to ride the waves. Trading New York City bars for sand bars, lunch breaks for surf sessions, and early mornings for coffee and surfing with the self-titled, “Barnegat Ladies Surf Club.” I couldn’t get enough of it!

Through many, many failed attempts, falls — Did I mention many?

— and being humbled by 10-year-olds effortlessly crushing it out there — Why must they make it look so easy? — I found my footing and my passion. I gained new perspectives, new connections, a new community, and new friends. I also gained a reset on life. The months I spent on LBI during the COVID-19 shutdown gave me time and cause to reevaluate my priorities and set new goals.

Surfing opened up the Island to me. I learned more about LBI, its history, and unique waters that surround it.

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Learning to surf gave me a completely new connection to the ocean. Being out on the water, there’s a different level of awareness, you become part of the environment.

Looking back at the Island from my surfboard I gained a new perspective of the Island. The view is quite different from the water.

It is amazing to watch the sunrise and see the Island wake up.

UPDATE: Recently I surfed in the Coronado Beach area of San Diego. West coast surfing is fun. But I am an east coast surfer at heart. I’m proud to surf the east coast where you work for it, you work for your wave. These days as we all transition to a new normal and I return to the office, I feel reenergized with knowledge that the LBI surf will always be there. And looking out at the waves I’m reminded there’s nothing like that first wave, and the best wave is the next one. —Courtney Hindle. Photography by Andrew Moriarty

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eautiful and iconic, butterflies are a mainstay in the summer garden bringing delight and hope filled anticipation to the appreciative homeowner. Unfortunately, as habitats decrease and pesticide use accelerates, the continued survival of these magnificent creatures is in jeopardy. Creating a butterfly-friendly garden is a relatively straight forward process and can go a long way to ensure the survival of these beloved insects for years to come. Winter into early spring is the ideal time to design and plant your butterfly habitat to reap the rewards of a butterfly-filled garden come late summer.

From egg to larvae to chrysalis to adult — the entire lifecycle of the butterfly takes approximately one month to complete.

Yet each stage is distinct and crucial to the life of the butterfly, requiring specific

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plant material and habitat to transition successfully.

Incorporating host plants into the garden is vital for the butterfly to reach maturity.

Monarch butterflies feed exclusively on all species of Asclepias, which also serves as a nectar food source for all adult butterflies.

Both Butterfly Weed (Asclepias tuberosa), with its bright orange or yellow flower clusters, and Swamp Milkweed, (Asclepias incanata), sporting pink or purple flower heads, are highly ornamental as well as functional. Equally important, Monarchs will only lay their eggs on Asclepias plants.

Likewise, yellow-flowering Partridge Pea is a preferred host plant for the golden Cloudless Sulfur butterfly.

The larva stage of the equally stunning Swallowtail butterfly, prevalent throughout

New Jersey, also requires a strict and highly specialized diet for development and survival. Parsley, dill, and fennel are primary food sources of the developing Swallowtail. When planting these herbs in your vegetable garden, try adding a few to your landscape to supplement the diet of these lovely butterflies. These herbs and ornamental Asclepias are available in season at Reynolds Landscaping.

jade green although a Monarch chrysalis also sports yellow spots. As the butterfly development nears completion, the chrysalis changes to a brown, desiccated color becoming translucent in the final stages revealing the colorful butterfly inside.

Monarch and Swallowtail butterflies are distinctive in the caterpillar stage — both sporting colorful striping on 2 to 3-inch frames. Banding coloration of the Monarchs is black, yellow, and white while those of the Swallowtail are white, green and black. It is advisable to memorize the markings of these beautiful butterflies in the caterpillar stage to avoid accidentally destroying them as punishment for munching on your plants.

When the new butterfly emerges from its shell, nectar-producing plants are needed in the garden to feed these hungry young beauties. Besides milkweed, nectar-filled shrubs, and perennials that butterflies find particularly appealing include the Butterfly Bush, Joe Pye Weed, Autumn Joy sedum, Ironweed, Aster, Seaside goldenrod, Monarda, Phlox and Yarrow. Annual flowers sure to attract butterflies to your garden include Zinnia, Verbena, Salvia, Cosmos, and Marigold. Instead of turf grass, consider planting your lawn with red clover — the butterflies will thank you ten times over.

The larva stage is complete when the caterpillar becomes a chrysalis — the pupa state — generally lasting from eight to twenty days depending upon species. The chrysalis, at inception, is typically apple or

Beside incorporating host plants (i.e., Asclepias species) and colorful nectar filled flowering material into your garden, the following guidelines should be followed to create a successful

butterfly habitat. They include: • A shallow water bowl or water feature with exposed rocks allowing butterfly to hydrate and rest.

• Shelter from wind and other adverse environmental elements in the form of a planting barrier or human-made structure.

• Avoid over weeding, allowing several common weeds such as clover and dandelions to exist in the yard. They provide a nectar source for butterflies and encourage the laying of eggs.

Avoid pesticides in the garden. They are a major factor in the decline of butterflies and other beneficial insects. —Elaine Sisko, Reynolds Landscaping If you are interested in creating a butterfly garden visit Reynolds Landscaping located at 201 East Bay Avenue in Manahawkin for a comprehensive selection of nectar-producing and butterfly-attracting host plants. Seasonal availability of some plants will apply.

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aggie O'Neill's favorite pastime is to walk the beaches of Ship Bottom to search for sea glass. After years of collecting, she decided she needed a better way to display her treasured LBI finds. Inspired by old window frames she saw at an outdoor folk-art exhibit she decided to use old windows as canvases to create mosaic patterns with her sea glass.

However, Maggie didn't just want the pieces to be stuck on her walls, she wanted to share her art with passers-by.

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"So, I hung the finished pieces on my fence," says Maggie. "This art is a great project to utilize my sea glass and old windows, while adding some shine to an old, green wire fence." When the sunlight hits the mosaics the sea glass sparkles scattering glimmers of colored light across her white stone yard.

Maggie wants these pieces to bring a spark of happiness to those walking by her home. She hopes to someday fill the whole fence with her colorful LBI treasures. —Written and photographed by Sara Caruso

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he Garden Club of Long Beach Island will open the gates to five spectacular private gardens on June 15, 2022, for your exploration and delight. From Barnegat Light to Beach Haven, each garden selected celebrates the verve of barrier island life and exhibits the finest in landscape design.

will enjoy the fishponds, fountains, delicate native flowers, and wind-swept trees that highlight the three beautiful public gardens maintained by members of The Garden Club of LBI.

On the Outside Living Garden Tour and Art Show, you will be immersed in the color of Long Beach Island’s quiet gardens, stunning landscapes, and winding paths adrift with flowers, and surrounded by the ambiance of outdoor living.

This year in the gardens, you can watch award-winning local artists from Pine Shores Art Association as they paint plein air and be entertained by a guitarist. The Green Elephant Shop will offer a collection of gently used gardening essentials. Selected vendors will be at each garden. —Gillian Rozicer. Photography by Jeannette Michelson, Garden Club photographer

Strolling through The Edith Duff Gwinn Garden, the new Pollinator Garden, and the Beach Haven Library Garden you

Tickets are a $40.00 donation. To order, email Judie Alloway at spajla3@aol.com or visit the club’s website, thegardencluboflbi.com

T

he journey of Feelin’Blue began in my Beach Haven West bedroom one night in June of 2019 with a lightbulb moment. At the time, I had gotten so many compliments on distressed cut-off shorts I made for myself from thrifted jeans. So, I went back to the thrift store and grabbed jeans in five different sizes and did the same distressing to them. I set up an Instagram @shop_feelinblue. My recycled denim fashions sold so fast on Instagram I decided to plan an in-person shopping experience in July. I had my first pop-up shop at 506 Boutique in Surf City where I sold my Feelin’Blue shorts for $10 and little clutches, made from the cuffs of the jeans I cut, for $5.

Since then, I have expanded my product line and my pop-up shops are held up and

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important to me that my customers know where their donated denim is going and how it is being recycled.

I handpick every pair of jeans given to me, distribute them into product piles, and sew them into my designs.

I use every bit of the fabric, even for packaging. It is very satisfying for me to see my recycling process go full circle; from donation, to redesign, to sewing machine, into your hands and back into use.

down Long Beach Island and in north New Jersey. I also sell curated vintage clothing, accessories, and homewares.

As a recycled fashion brand, it is extremely

I am so grateful to have built a brand creating something new out of something left behind. And I am grateful for the support of the community that surrounds me. I could have never reached this point without it.

The creative process of making these products is a journey I truly feel is heaven-sent and I can’t wait to see where life takes me next. —Gianna Intile

“Hope” is the thing with feathers Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chilliest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.

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e who are parents of children with special needs have learned that hope is indeed a fragile thing. Fortunately, hope comes in all sizes, with and without feathers, and sometimes from the most unexpected of sources.

There are in fact very few opportunities for people who are not typically able to become members of the workforce. For our family, that reality underwent a transformation in March of 2021 when we learned that Compassion Café, a non-profit in every worthwhile sense of that term, was offering the possibility of a job with free-ongoing training for anyone over seventeen years of age with special needs.

Our first meeting was held at Barry’s Do Me a Flavor in Beach Haven, owned by the extraordinary Baxter family. Something Sue Sharkey, co-founder of Compassion Café, said that day stuck with me, “...that whoever comes to Compassion Café would have a

job, regardless of their abilities or skills.” It was not just her words, but the conviction with which she spoke that made an impression and gave me hope.

It turned out there were forty or so enthusiastic kids who were longing for a chance, "...to make people happy," as one of them stated in a television interview with Stephanie Ruhle of NBC's "Today." Ms. Ruhle had picked up the story of this dream coming true, and it aired nationwide. Later, we saw Ms. Ruhle off-camera smiling and drying her eyes in between talks with some of the Café’s new employees, a common effect of a conversation with any of our budding customer service representatives.

We were grateful for the national exposure which brought a stream of donations, money to help make ends meet. You see, the business model does not make economic sense, a coffee shop does not

require a staff of forty paid employees.

The atmosphere at Compassion Café is one of joy, community, love, and unconditional acceptance. The volunteers, staff, and customers of Compassion Café are helping our kids — no — they are allowing our kids to develop their skills, to find the words and the smiles they share so freely. At Compassion Café they experience the type of personal growth that comes with a sense of pride and accomplishment at learning new skills, having a real job and one's own hardearned money in the pocket.

Our son, Adam, is 37-years-old. Compassion Café is his very first job. His mom says he is a man of few words. These days, however, Adam is learning to find his words.

The pride that we see in him, the smile on his face, are real.

The volunteers frequently thank us for shar-

ing our family members with the Café. I always think it is we who should thank them because it takes so much effort, organizing, and patience from everyone involved to make the whole thing work. But I am beginning to understand —Compassion Café is a labor of love with a purpose. Perhaps the best thing is that Compassion Café is more than a place, it is a feeling, spontaneous, happening whenever the group gets together. It is becoming a community.

This same experience is available to anyone who wants a great cup of coffee or a slice of homemade carrot cake. These gatherings, where commerce is conducted over a crumb bun, shine the spotlight on our loved ones. They in return grace us with their honesty and innocence. They show us how to treat others the way we all want to be treated. Isn’t that the way things are supposed to be? I believe it is. It also seems this feeling is contagious.

Last fall when having breakfast in Beach Haven, we struck up a conversation with our server, a pleasant young man named Ari, a college graduate who returns every year to work on the Island. He noticed our Compassion Café tee shirts and a smile came over his face. Ari spoke most enthusiastically about how extraordinary it was to be touched by the sense of community that Compassion Café had awakened. He spoke of working together and of dreams. The experience was uplifting. I thought about leaving the fate of our loved ones — our world — in the hands of people such as this young man, I got goosebumps, as if tickled by a thing with feathers. —Written and photographed by Joseph Guastella We wish to extend a special thanks to Barry’s Do Me A Flavor for generously providing Compassion Café with rent-free space for 2021. And thanks to The Seashell the Café will have rent-free space for 2022.

T

he Garden Club of LBI presented its first post-pandemic children’s library program on Wednesday, April 20 at the Ocean County Library in Surf City.

Local school children in grades three through six attended the Earth Day themed program.

Activities focused on pollinators like bees, butterflies, and hummingbirds, and the plants they need to survive.

Jeannette Michelson, Garden Club of LBI Youth Committee Chair, and co-chairs,

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Ginny Scarlatelli and Margo Bartiromo presented the children with bee antennae headbands and set them to work on flower arrangements of white daisies, blue statice, and big bright gold super-pollinator sunflowers. Each child received a packet of wildflower seeds to grow their own pollinators at home.

A guest appearance was made by "Recycling Hero", Mary Wilding, Garden Club of LBI Environmental chair, dressed in a costume covered with recyclable bottles and

bags. An enthusiastic discussion followed as the children displayed a wonderful knowledge of this important Earth Day topic.

The children then played Flower Bingo, a fun way to learn the names of flowers. At the end of the busy program, the children gathered their flower arrangements and proudly headed for home, wearing their bee antennae headbands. —Gillian Rozicer.

Photography by Jeannette Michelson, Garden Club Photographer

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Recipe written and prepared by Diane and Vic Stulga. Photographed by Cynthia Andes Page 66 • Echoes of LBI

Recipe written, prepared and photographed by Cynthia Andes

K

nown locally as the blue claw crab, the Atlantic blue crab (Callinectes sapidus), is the species most frequently caught along the New Jersey Coast. It’s abundance, delicious delicate white meat, feisty temperament, and brilliant hard-shell colors of olive-green, blue, and red make it a favorite of recreational crabbers all over LBI. When water temperatures drop below 50 degrees blue claw crabs head for deeper water, burrow into the muddy bottom, and lay dormant. Only the tip of their eye stalks and some small breathing channels remain visible. When warm water returns, they immerge and head back to the shallows to feed, molt, and breed. Crabs caught in early spring before their first molt are known by Islanders as winter blue claws; muddy and uniquely delicious.

Early this spring, our granddaughter, Meghan, caught a big muddy winter blue claw from our dock. Our first keeper of the 2022 season. Our family has been crabbing and fishing the waters of LBI for generations. For us, this is a valid sign that fishing and crabbing season are right around the corner! And we can’t wait! —Written and photographed by Diane Stulga

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F

inding a frosty piece of red sea glass may be the ultimate goal of any sea glass collector’s career. Red is often regarded as the second rarest color of glass after orange. However, there is a color just as rare, if not rarer, than red. That color is turquoise, and it has one of the longest histories of any glass made.

Turquoise is one of the earliest semi-precious gems mined and traded. Its vivid blue coloring has captured the hearts of humanity for millennia. It came to adorn many things from Egyptian sarcophagi to the palace walls of the Middle East. Due to the mineral's popularity, the ancients sought to replicate its magnificent color. The Egyptians perfected this with faience blue an early forerunner to glass. Egyptian faience or Egyptian paste is a porous non-clay, ceramic made with ingredients similar to glass: sand, lime, and either natron or plant ash. During the firing process, the components react to create a brightly colored glaze on the surface.

Over time, the Egyptians perfected the art of making glass. Their techniques were passed down to the Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans, and others. This is where the turquoise glass we know today began its history.

Faience blue and its glass counterpart continued in popularity throughout the 17th century, especially in the form of jewelry and art. As stated by Antonio Neri in his 1612 book L'Arte Vetraria, "Sky Blue, or more properly turquoise, is a principal color in the art of glassmaking. I have made this color often, because it is very necessary in bead making, and is the most esteemed and prized color in the art."

By the 1800s, new glass manufacturing techniques allowed certain colors to be more widely available. Brightly colored turquoise glass was made into dinnerware, barber bottles, insulators, costume jewelry, textured window glass, and Harden glass fire extinguishing grenades. But perhaps the largest source for turquoise sea glass was seltzer bottles.

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Seltzer became popular in the 18th century from a belief that carbonating water made it safer to drink. By the mid-1800s, new patents allowed the fizzy drink to be siphoned out of the glass bottle, eliminating corks and the loss of carbonation. The seltzer bottle with a metal spout, siphon, and dispensing lever was born.

Their popularity spread across Europe and the United States with the use of commercial seltzer bottles reaching its peak in the 1920s and 1930s. Fancier turquoise glass seltzer bottles, originally made in eastern European countries such as Czechoslovakia, were exported to the United States.

The main ingredients in modern turquoise glass that give it that vibrant color are copper and iron. From the 1930s through the 1940s these raw materials became scarce as factories across Europe and the United States switched to the production of World War II military goods. Repeated bombing of European factories also shut down glass production. After World War II, most turquoise glass was relegated to decorative art pieces and figures like those made by Wheaton and Fenton.

Many times, much lighter blue sea glass is mistaken for turquoise. True turquoise sea glass should stand out on the sand more intensely compared to its softer blue counterparts. Aqua, for example, will have a greener tinge and subtle blue. Turquoise should, for lack of a better term, "punch" your eyes with its color. Your best chances to find this rare sea glass may be along bay beaches and old landfill sites, which also tend to have less foot traffic. Despite its long history, turquoise sea glass is a rare electric vibrance that only a lucky few beachcombers will ever experience. —Written and photographed

by Sara Caruso

"You know you live at the beach when you put on a pair of jeans, and find two small shells in your pocket."

—Maggie O'Neill

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Clockwise from the top left: Saturday Sea Glass Contest Best Overall winner Doreen Rhoads-White with her 1800s bottle found in Holgate, NJ, pictured below her; Sunday Best Overall winner Fossil & Artifact Contest Doreen RhoadsWhite's nail from a shipwreck; Guess the Sea Glass Jar winner Izzy M. who guessed 600, total was 601; Sunday People's Choice Winner Dave Hocko with his 1800s Hair Dye bottle, pictured below; Sunday Sea Glass Contest Best Overall winner Sharlene Roberts with her UV yellow traffic lens, pictured below; Saturday People's Choice Winner Tim Apgar with his turquoise shooter marble found in Island Beach State Park, pictured above him.

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ature has a very delicate balance.

Every flora, fauna, and fungus specialize in occupying a particular niche and serving a specific purpose in the ecosystem. Unfortunately, the activities of humans can have unintentional consequences, resulting in a non-native species ending up where it does not belong. In a favorable environment with few, if any, natural predators, invasive species can thrive, spread, and harm existing native species. One of these invaders, the spotted lanternfly, has spread rapidly throughout the east and central regions of the United States since it was first identified in 2014, in Berks County, Pennsylvania.

The spotted lanternfly (Lycorma delicatula) is native to Asia, in particular India, China, and Vietnam. Despite its name, the spotted lanternfly is not a fly, but a species of

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planthopper of the Fulgoridae family in the subfamily Aphaeninae. The life cycle of the lanternfly begins in masses of thirty to fifty eggs, which are present from October to July. Hatching lanternflies can be observed from late April until June, and appear as small white, beetle-like nymphs. These nymphs, known as instars, turn black with white spots as their exoskeletons harden.

Over the next few days, nymphs mature into juveniles, becoming red and black with distinctive white polka dots. In late July through August juveniles mature into adults with their trademark black-spotted, pinkish-tan outer wings, and under wings displaying bright red patches with black spots. Adult lanternflies are about one inch long and are present July through December, or until there is a heavy frost.

Lanternflies lay their egg masses on flat surfaces, and it is believed they were

introduced to the United State via a shipment of cut stone. Initially they were found on their host the tree-of-heaven (Ailanthus altissima), another invasive Asian species that was introduced into the United States by gardeners in the late 1700s.

The spotted lanternfly uses a drill-like mouthpart to feed on the sap of host trees. It is an indiscriminate feeder with a strong preference for economically important plants such as grapevines, fruit trees, valuable native trees, and ornamental shrubs.

The lanternfly's attack is twofold. First, as it feeds the spotted lanternfly excretes a sweet sugary substance called honeydew which attracts wasps and other insects.

Honeydew also promotes the growth of sooty mold, a fungus that builds up on the host tree and surrounding forest. The mold

can also accumulate on understories, patio furniture, cars, and anything else found below a feeding spotted lanternfly. For smaller plants, the layer of fungus prevents sunlight from reaching the leaves, stopping photosynthesis, and eventually resulting in death. Second, the spotted lanternfly poses a threat to crops which can affect food supplies and impact the economy.

As of 2021, all of New Jersey, except Cape May County, reported the presence of spotted lanternflies. Regionally, Pennsylvania, New York, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, West Virginia, Ohio, and Indiana have infestations. There is a high probability the spread could go through the nation’s corn belt, and to the central valley and coastal areas of California as conditions are right to support the insect. Methods to manage it are underway, and there are some simple strategies which can be implemented immediately. The Department of Agriculture has begun the Stomp It Out campaign, encouraging the public to destroy the highly destructive insects.

Physical, non-chemical management is the safest and quickest line of defense. Learn to identify lanternfly egg masses on flat surfaces such as trees, branches, cars, patio furniture, and hardscape walls. Remove egg masses with a putty knife or old credit card. Scrape the mass into doubled plastic bags containing rubbing alcohol or hand sanitizer. Seal the bags carefully and place them in the trash. Sticky tree bands can be wrapped around the trunk of an affected tree but should be shielded with chicken wire or mesh to prevent small animals from getting stuck. Replace the sticky bands frequently to ensure new lanternflies get stuck. Large swarms can be sucked up with a shop-vac and dispatched in a mixture of water and dish detergent. And of course, the simplest way is to Stomp it Out! While it may feel cruel to destroy a seemingly innocent, colorful insect it is important to remember what is at stake.

Together we can stop the spread of the spotted lanternfly and help protect the delicate balance of our ecosystem. —Mary Wilding and Sara Caruso Encounters with the spotted lanternfly should be reported to the New Jersey Department of Agriculture at www.badbug.nj.gov.

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V

ic Stulga of Beach Haven West has been collecting vintage items since he was a boy. Whether it was an old bike, car parts or an old fishing rod and reel, he has always been up to the challenge of restoring his finds to their original condition or even better than they ever were.

The garage at Vic’s home has become a museum of sorts filled with vintage items he has collected throughout his life. Each and every piece has a back story. Every inch of the walls, ceiling, shelves, and free spaces is covered with old tools, including some from his father and grandfather’s collection, garage signs, restored surfboards, old sewing machines, which Vic has restored and still uses for various projects, vintage lanterns, 1929 glass oil bottles, roller skates, hockey sticks, Coca Cola collectables, and a huge collection of Disney memorabilia.

These are just a few types of the hundreds of items on display.

Many of Vic’s things have sentimental value. He has countless old comic books, pictures of former U.S. presidents, and a classic miniature car collection. He also keeps his 1929 Ford Roadster with the license plate LBI ’29 in his garage as well. Attached to the Roadster is a 1930s Coca Cola trailer that Vic has completely restored.

When he is out in the garage Vic listens to the music of the 1950s. He enjoys remembering the good old days when life was much simpler. When Vic steps into his garage, he steps back in time and relives those wonderful years.

For Vic, each day brings a new adventure and another opportunity to discover something interesting to add to his collection in his Beach Haven West garage museum. —Written and photographed by Diane Stulga

T

hinking back on her life from her porch on a sunny spring day, Marion Oliver Larson can only smile and feel gratitude. “I was very lucky. I had a wonderful life.” She exudes the spirit of a life fulfilled though by no means finished. There’s a twinkle of humor and energy in those eyes. It’s the same spark that shone from the eyes of a young lady from Beach Haven who followed her gut and her heart and found adventures and a storybook romance. Looking back on those formative years, Marion laughed heartily and was still as giddy about her husband John as the first time their hearts touched when she was just a teenager head over heels for him.

The year was 1949. The setting was a high school auditorium.

Tables and chairs were spread around the outside of the room.

One table had cups and a punch bowl filled with a bright red, light refreshment. Colorful paper ribbons hung from here and there, while others draped from one side of the room to the other over everyone’s heads.

There were dozens of young boys and girls. But aside from a few couples swaying with the music in the middle of the floor, most of the boys were huddled along one side of the room and the girls stayed on the other. Some of the wallflower boys were glued to the wall.

Some were desperate to make their legs move toward the girl they’d had their eye on in class all year. Many of the girls just hoped someone, anyone, would come over and ask them Page 84 • Echoes of LBI

to dance. The standoff dragged painfully on at the first dance for freshmen at Barnegat High School. Then one tall, dark, handsome boy strode across the floor and one girl’s heart fluttered as she jumped forward to meet him. The rest was history.

Born in 1934 in Beach Haven, Marion Oliver was the youngest of three sisters who would become well-known in Island circles as the Oliver Sisters.

While her middle sister, Chloe, would be outgoing and popular from the get-go, Marion was shy. It made for a tough beginning when she started kindergarten at the Beach Haven School, which she would attend through eighth grade.

“I cried the first day of school!”

Marion laughs. “I still remember sitting on the teacher’s lap and all the other kids around me staring at me crying.”

It didn’t get better at recess, either. “When out on the playground, the boys would chase the girls. And I would cry because these boys kept chasing me. They tried to kiss the girls!”

But, boy, would Marion come out of her shell. By third grade, she was already charging headlong into life and boys. “Even at that age,” she explained, “there were three boys in [her oldest sister Muriel’s] class that I was always hoping the teacher would have me take a note down to Miss Salmons’ — so I could have a look at these boys.”

to. “I lived on Second Street and the school was on Eighth Street. And my sisters and I walked every day, six blocks, up to school in the morning, home for lunch, back to school after lunch,” and home again after school.

Living close by in Beach Haven meant school was easy to get

School, though, came home with her thanks to her mother,

Muriel, who was a substitute teacher. That brought them together one year, a memory still funny but one that comes with a little shudder, too. “My worst year was fourth grade,” Marion teased. “Because guess who my teacher was? My mother!”

Perhaps fortunately for Marion, her strict mother’s one-year tenure wouldn’t last. “Fourth grade

boys get that idea they can tease the devil out of you. And she [Muriel] just couldn’t take it.”

street. That was scary.”

Just before midnight, the skies cleared, and the stars came out under a crescent moon. “A beautiful night!” she remembered. Instead of the end, it was the western eye wall of the Category 2 hurricane passing north-northeast. Soon after the calm, winds gusting over 100 mph roared from the west across the bay. On the bayside, boats took the full force of this side of the storm. Slapping her couch cushion, Marion described the damage. “Slammed them up [slap!]. Pilings, wind, [slap!], right to the bottom.”

In the way that life can be, the worlds of Marion and John Larson, Jr., a fisherman’s son from the other end of the Island, would cross for the first time the very next year. Maybe it lit a fuse in her heart she wasn’t aware of. Or maybe it was a just a chance encounter that neither were ready for just yet.

Whatever the case, fate and a fire put these two children from different schools and opposite sides of the Tuckerton Railroad tracks in an auditorium together one fateful day.

“The first time I saw my husband,” she said with a smile as the memories came flooding back, “I didn’t know he was going to be my husband; I was in fifth grade. There was this strange boy that most of us didn’t know.” At that time, little Johnny was in sixth grade at Barnegat Elementary School on the mainland. It had recently suffered a fire and was temporarily closed. With the day off, he came down to visit friends attending the Beach Haven School.

“Everybody looked, ‘Who’s that? Oh, that’s Johnny Larson, he’s from Barnegat.’” That brief glimpse of the boy she would marry was carved into her mind.

“He had these dark eyebrows.

He was very attractive.” A cou-

ple of years would pass before their lives crossed again and a life-long love affair would begin.

In between was a war she had thankfully little awareness of because of her parents’ protection and a hurricane that left indelible memories on her and everyone who lived in Beach Haven.

When this writer sat with Marion as she basked in the sun on the porch of her and John’s 19th century Barnegat Light cottage, the day the Great Atlantic Hurricane of 1944 blew past the Island was still fresh in her mind.

“It was September 14,” she

recalled exactly. The school was dismissed early that warm Thursday. By supper time, the wind was up, and the ocean was already coming down the streets.

“My mother happened to look out into the backyard,” Marion recounted, her eyes widening with amazement. “She said, ‘Oh, my goodness! A whole lot of water is in the backyard.’ So, we [kids] went and looked out the front and there goes some boardwalk, right by us. And beach chairs and everything just going right down the road. Cars being moved right down the

Such was life by the sea. Storms and all the trials, tribulations, and bounties that the Atlantic had to offer were a part of life.

A life she lived when she and John were married just out of high school. There would be a few years away from the Island while he went to college and got a job working at the old mill in Roebling, New Jersey.

Then his father put the first Miss Barnegat Light up for sale and John dove into the family business. What would follow were lean years as the old fisheries struggled before he and fellow fisherman Lou Puskas made previously unappealing tile fisheries marketable. For John, it meant a lot of hard work and time at the docks and out on the fishing grounds.

This forced Marion to be industrious, which came naturally to

her as a hard worker with a cando attitude.

“I figured, Gee, if a man could do it!” Even so, she is amazed she made it all work. “I don’t know how I did it. I really don’t know how I did it. I used to patch the screens, put up new screening, and put all new sashweights in the windows.

Meanwhile all these [kids] were coming in!” And so, Marion took care of the house in every way possible.

Taking care of a growing family that would number enough to field a Larson family baseball team in the end would be her greatest challenge and accomplishment. So much so, she was recruited to do it professionally.

“I taught Sunday school [at Zion Lutheran Church in Barnegat Light],” she said. Head of the Sunday school, Ethel Jacobsen, one day “suggested that I take over her job.” Marion had a hearty laugh, then shared Ethel’s reasoning. “Any woman who can get six kids dressed and to Sunday school on Sunday morning is able to manage things.”

And manage things, Marion did. In addition to her work at the Sunday school, Mrs. John Larson also took on the bookkeeping of what became a fleet Page 86 • Echoes of LBI

of fishing vessels split between Larson and Puskas that would grow the port of Barnegat Light into the tenth most profitable in the entire country. She would keep the Larson boat finances in order for years to come.

That keen eye would come in handy many times, even on the water. When a schooner towing another boat was blown ashore in a nor’easter in February 1963, it was Marion’s ears that perked up at the brief mention on news radio of ships ashore at Barnegat Light, all while making breakfast for five children and a husband still getting dressed upstairs!

“I ran up the stairs and looked out the bathroom window,” she energetically remembered. “I yelled ‘John, there’s two wrecks right out here on the beach!’”

One of those wrecks became the famous mast still visible today off 11th Street.

This family and all of Marion’s experiences were set in motion on that storybook night at the freshmen dance back in 1949.

“My girlfriend and I are standing there waiting for somebody to get the nerve to come ask us to dance.” Then Marion saw that handsome boy with the eyebrows she remembered from

that day in fifth grade come across the dance floor at her.

Marion couldn’t wait to take the first step toward the rest of her life. So, she didn’t wait!

“I stepped forward. He hadn’t even opened his mouth yet,” she laughed. “I said, ‘Yeah, I’ll dance!’ I didn’t realize I had such nerve.”

Marion also thanks God she stepped forward because things could have gone differently.

“When he was about 70 years old,” she explained, barely containing her laughter. “He said to me, ‘Babe, remember that night we met at the school dance? I wasn’t coming to ask you to dance. I was coming to ask your girlfriend!’ I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry!

He kept that secret all those years!”

But Marion did step forward, and after a lifetime together Marion has no regrets, only joy and the count of her blessings.

“We had a wonderful marriage.

He was a wonderful man.” As an example of how wonderful he was, she described one benefit of having a husband with a dock where he was needed so often. “Anytime I would want to argue with him about something he’d say, ‘Okay, Babe, I’ll see ya later. I’m going down to

the dock.’ Every woman needs to have a husband who owns a dock. He wouldn’t argue with me. It was so nice!”

Though Marion lost John in 2009, his presence is still felt in their house and in her heart.

“He was part of my life for 61 years,” she said with joy and gratitude. Though she counts herself lucky, it is also true that Marion Oliver from Beach Haven made her own luck, through spunk, spirit, and an open heart. She said the song “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” always reminds her of John and those first moments when they were young.

Marion, too, has given so much to so many that there are countless who hold her in their hearts just like the song says.

“The first time ever I saw your face, I thought the sun rose in your eyes, And the moon and stars were the gift you gave, To the dark and the empty skies, my love...”

—Reilly Platten Sharp.

Photography courtesy of the Barnegat Light Historical Society and Museum.

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or my family, friends, and me, there exists within our memories and hearts the simple pleasures derived from our vacations on Long Beach Island. There were no planned excursions or scheduled events. Decisions were made the night before, and loosely adhered to, lest something better presented itself the next morning. We tended to go with the flow — whatever Mother Nature would allow.

In July of 1998, I was staying in Spray Beach with my wife, Laura, our daughters, Jessica, and Regina, along with my brother-in-law, Richard, sister in-law, Julie, and their two sons, Nick, and Max. The house we rented for that particular week has an interesting history. Located in Spray Beach, the house was built in 1893 for Philadelphia lawyer, John Luther Long, who, in the summer of 1898, penned the short story, Madame Butterfly, while sitting on the front porch. It was this story, inspired by Long’s sister, Jennie Correll, who had spent some time in Japan as a missionary, which formed the basis of the famous opera, Madama Butterfly, by Giacomo Puccini. We were honored to share the house with the spirits we imagined roamed its hallways.

Like many older homes on LBI the rooms were rather small, but it had tons of class.

Because the house is registered as a historic home the owners are obligated to keep its unique character and design intact to maintain its historical significance. There is a one room, detached cottage at the back of the house which we also occupied. We could not have been more pleased.

But the charm of the house was not the only magic on our vacation. After all, we were on LBI. The sunshine, the beach, the rhythmic percussion of the Atlantic; all contributed to the magic we always experienced on this enchanted island.

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One evening, after a wonderful family dinner, Richard, the kids, and I took a walk to the beach. I brought my guitar along. We found a spot to sit at the base of a sand dune and watched the sun go down. As the stars slowly came out, I played, and we all sang.

Dune grasses rustled in the breeze and the sound of the surf added the perfect background harmony. We did some Hank Williams songs, our version of “Goodnight, Irene,” and other blues and country favorites. The full moon shone like a spotlight on our sandy stage, and we sang until we ran out of songs that we could remember. On our way back to the house, Richard commented about what a good time he’d had. He’s not given to emotional expression so easily, and I couldn’t help but think that it was maybe the first time I could remember him displaying his pleasure in such a way. Magic!

Late that night, my eldest daughter, Jessica, and I were lounging in the back yard nursing our nightcaps, winding down from a great day. It was one o’clock in the morning, and the moon — framed by a star-studded black velvet sky — was at its apex. In the distance, a dog was barking. As we listened, Jessica thought out loud, “I wonder what dogs are saying when they bark like that?”

We both pondered that question, offering all kinds of answers from specific statements about possible desires, to simply baying at the moon like their ancestors. We finally settled on the answer, convinced that the dog was yelling, “Hey!” So, of course, every time we heard a bark, we both yelled out, “Hey!” in response. It

was our lame attempt to establish a line of communication. As I previously alluded, alcohol was involved. And, of course, Laura poked her head out the back door and in a quiet but firm voice reminded us of the hour, “Knock it off. It’s late!” Realizing our folly, Jessica and I cringed a bit, laughed, and called it a night.

I have been vacationing on LBI on and off since 1972. For several years, my family and I vacationed in the hills of northeastern Pennsylvania. But in the late nineties we reignited our love affair with LBI and have spent at least one week a year down the shore ever since.

Many a magical moment and memory were had on LBI. I caught my biggest weakfish from a row boat on Little Egg Harbor and many a slippery eel under the causeway bridge. We’ve seen marvelous thunder storms that produced the greatest light shows on earth. Few things are more awesome to see than lightning bolts over the ocean as a summer storm blows off the coast and heads out to sea. We’ve seen sunshine and floods, rain, hail, sleet, and snow. Rain or shine, we always found a way to enjoy ourselves.

Seven years ago, we moved to Manahawkin to live in the place we love the most. Now, we can get to LBI any time we want. We enjoy the excitement of the in-season: the beach, the seasonal stores, busy restaurants, and nature. And we enjoy the quiet fall weather on the beach and the laid-back pace of life of the off-season. These days, I feel as though I’m on vacation all the time. Magic! —Randy Rush.

Photographed by Laura Rush

Inside Barnegat Lighthouse • Carl Rothchild Photography

C

ongratulations Daina Dale, municipal clerk for the Borough of Harvey Cedars for being selected as the Municipal Clerk of the Year for 2019-2020 by the New Jersey Municipal Clerks Association (NJMCA). Traditionally, the award is presented at the association’s annual spring meeting. However, due to the pandemic, the meeting and announcement of Daina’s award were postponed until June 2021.

Municipal Clerk of the Year is NJMCA’s most distinguished honor. There are 564 municipalities in New Jersey, each with a municipal clerk. Even though Harvey Cedars is the tenth smallest municipality in population, Daina stood out amidst the hundreds of other clerks. She is the only Long Beach Island municipal clerk to ever be chosen for this honor.

When Daina and her husband, Michael Forgione, moved to Harvey Cedars in 1991 she had no idea what a borough clerk did. Though she was familiar with Harvey Cedars because her husband’s family has owned a house in High Bar Harbor since 1962.

Daina had a full-time job in Atlantic City when she took a part-time position in 1995 as secretary for the Borough of Harvey Cedars Public Works Department. The job was for three days a week and paid just $7.50 an hour. Daina really enjoyed working with the public. So, when a full-time position opened in the borough’s Parks and Recreation Department, she took it.

Daina’s hard work and dedication were noted by one of the borough’s three commissioners. Former commissioner, Judy Gerkins, suggested that she take courses at Rutgers to get certified by the state of New Jersey as a Registered Municipal Clerk.

Since becoming a Registered Municipal Clerk, Daina has continued her education and obtained other important certifications that allow her to better serve Harvey Cedars.

When she started as municipal clerk, there were only two fulltime employees: Daina Page 90 • Echoes of LBI

and the Chief Financial Officer/tax assessor.

In a small borough like Harvey Cedars, all employees have a variety of jobs.

The duties of a New Jersey Municipal Clerk are dictated by state law, though they may vary based on the size, type, and location of the municipality. As municipal clerk for Harvey Cedars, Daina is the Secretary of the Municipal Corporation, Secretary to the Governing Body, Chief Administrative Officer of All Elections held in the municipality, Chief Registrar of Voters in

the municipality, and Registrar of Vital Statistics. In addition, she is a qualified purchasing agent and utilities collector for the borough.

Serving as the municipal clerk for Harvey Cedars is a complex job. And Daina Dale excels at it. That is why she was honored

by NJMCA as Municipal Clerk of the Year.

Out of all her duties when asked what her favorite part of the job is Daina responded, “helping people and answering their questions.” —Pat Dagnall

O

ur team has been working diligently to have The Dutchman's on its new piling system for 2022.

But due to unforeseen delays our goal is now 2023.

The remodeling project has reached its most critical phase — moving The Dutchman's back to its iconic location. Placing the approximately 19,000 square foot building Page 92 • Echoes of LBI

on its new piling system is a complex precision process that requires careful coordination by all of our contractors.

Accuracy is critical. Each contractor has a vital job. In this phase, the final land piles will be placed, load bearing plates will be completed on the steel beams, a wood perimeter wall will be constructed around the main section of The Dutchman's, and the floor of the main building will be removed.

Atlantic Structure Movers will use GPS when moving, positioning, and landing The Dutchman's precisely on its new structure, returning the restaurant to its exact historic location where it sat on recycled old pilings that originally supported the first automobile causeway bridge built in 1912. When the old piles were pulled from the water in 1959 to make way for a new bridge, Otto Schmid collected and reused

them to build The Dutchman's.

Please watch us this summer as we move The Dutchman's back to its celebrated location — over the waters of Barnegat Bay. As always, the welfare of the bay and respecting the environment continue to be our main concern and goal. Thank you for your patience. —Written and photographed by Richard Otto Schmid

This summer, don’t be surprised by four things that can make you prone to sunburn.

S

unburn hurts you in more ways than one. The danger goes far beyond any short-term pain, redness, and discomfort, because after the sunburn fades, lasting damage remains.

JOSEPH LATTANZI, M.D. Radiation Oncologist Manahawkin • 609-978-2194 Page 94 • Echoes of LBI

Sunburn accelerates skin aging and is a leading cause in the majority of cases of basal cell carcinoma, squamous cell carcinoma, and melanoma, the deadliest form of skin cancer.

Sunburn is bad news, but the good news is

that it’s totally preventable. Even if you take proper precautions in the sun — applying SPF 30 or higher sunscreen and limiting your hours outdoors in peak sunlight — you might still develop a sunburn. Certain medications, dietary supplements, personal care products and foods may increase your risk of sunburn. “Knowing what substances you put into, or onto, your body may help you avoid future sunburn surprises,” says Joseph Lattanzi, M.D., medical director, Radiation Oncology at Hackensack Meridian Southern Ocean Medical Center.

Be careful about spending time in the sun when you use any of the following items, which can increase your risks of sunburn: Medications • Antibiotics, such as tetracycline antihistamines • Antifungal medication • Coal and tar derivatives, such as medicated shampoo • Hormone replacement therapy • Hypertension medication • Non-steroid anti-inflammatory drugs (such as ibuprofen) • Oral contraceptives • Retinoids • Tricyclic antidepressants

Personal Care Products • Benzoyl peroxide • Certain sunscreens • Deodorants • Glycolic acid • Perfumes and scented soap • Retinols • Topical Vitamin C

Foods • Artificial sweeteners • Carrots • Celery • Coriander • Cumin • Dill • Fennel

Dietary Supplements • Ginkgo biloba • St. John’s Wort

DID YOU KNOW?

Radiation therapy is a scarless, non-surgical radiation treatment for certain skin cancers.

Call 609-978-2194 to learn more.

Page 96 • Echoes of LBI

B

ill Willem remembers traveling by train from Philadelphia to Beach Haven, New Jersey in the early 1930s. “I was eight years old.

My parents, Eugene and Ida, my brother, Eugene Jr., and I took the train to visit, my grandparents, August and Margaret Willem, in Beach Haven,” begins Bill. “They purchased their house on Dock Road in 1923. In those days, there were houses on just one side of the road. My grandparents were there on weekends and in the summer. My aunt and uncle, Joseph and Elsie Sprague lived in the house year-round. Uncle Joe was a scalloper.”

During World War II, from 1942 to 1945, Bill served in the United States Merchant Marines. “I was on leave in North Philadelphia when I met Marge Sears,” beams Bill. “We were married in September 1945 in New York. I was still in the service and only had a few days off. So, we had a three-day honeymoon in Greenwich Village on the west side of Lower Manhattan.”

After serving his country, Bill returned to Philadelphia. By 1946 he purchased an oyster house restaurant in Kensington, Pennsylvania. Bill and Marge renamed the restaurant Bilmar’s, a combination of their names. “In those days fresh oysters were served only during months that contain the letter R. We were open from September through April. From May through August, when Bilmar’s was closed, I worked as a short order cook at Joe Sprague’s diner in Beach Haven for four or

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five years,” explains Bill. “They nicknamed me “Red Hot” because when I carried extremely hot plates of food from the kitchen into the dining room I’d yell “RED HOT” so that no one would back into me.”

In 1948 Marge and I moved to Beach Haven. We had Bilmar’s for around two years, but I continued to work at the diner for several years.”

Each year after Labor Day when the diner closed, Bill would find other work to make it through the off-season.

“Winters were tough,” recalls Bill. “I worked with Jake Sherer of Mordecai Cove Marina, Sonny Wunder, Phil Hart, and Gurney Hart doing various construction jobs. When I worked for Perks Electric, I put up Christmas lights on the local banks and businesses in Beach Haven.” Like many other Island men, during the off-season Bill worked on the construction of the Garden State Parkway. “I worked on the Mullica River Bridge project on the New Gretna section.”

Bill and Marge purchased a home on Long Beach Island in 1951. “It was one of the original Shapiro Brothers homes on 27th Street in Spray Beach,” re-

calls Bill. “We paid $6,500 for the house with $500 down.”

In 1956 Bill opened Bill’s Beanery in Surf City.

From day one, Marge ran the front of the house. Bill ran the back and did all the cooking.

Although it was initially a seasonal business, by adding a dining room and more tables they successfully built it into a year-round restaurant.

After the 1962 storm Bill and Marge moved from Spray Beach to a large colonial-style house they purchased on South 1st Street in Surf City.

By 1968 Bill added a second dining room and changed the name from Bill’s Beanery to Bill’s Seafood Restaurant. He served locally sourced seafood and despite the growth, Bill continued to do the cooking himself. “I even filleted the fish and

breaded it by hand,” laughs Bill.

“We had the first salad bar on LBI. Fresh clams were served on the half shell and Friday nights were all-you-can-eat clams. My Hot Apple Brown Betty was always a customer favorite dessert.” A few years later, Bill and Marge expanded the restaurant again by adding a third dining room and a new kitchen.

Back then, the LBI business community was small. Many local business owners were full-time residents, and some were good friends. “In those days, for date

night, we enjoyed tomato pie at Buckelew’s,” Bill said. “We also enjoyed the company of the owners Tom and Muncie Buckelew.

My grandparents were close friends with Gus, Ernie, Hannah, and Whitey Tuckmantel — the owners of The Acme Hotel — it was located where The Ketch was and where Bird and Betty’s is today. For years, my grandmother was a fixture on the porch of the Acme.” Charter boat captain and local basketball coach George Clover was a regular customer at Bill’s Seafood Restaurant who became a friend.

“In the thirty-two years that I owned Bill’s Seafood Restaurant I never had to advertise to promote the place,” grins Bill. Once when approached by a local newspaper to do so, Bill saw it as the perfect opportunity to advocate for a clean ocean. His advertisement read simply “We all need clean water. Stop Ocean Dumping.”

Throughout his life, Bill’s passion for service has extended beyond his restaurants to serving his community. In 1974 he was instrumental in bringing the Meals on Wheels program at St. Francis Church in Brant Beach to Long Beach Island. That same passion inspired Bill to bring aikido, the Japanese martial art that focuses on peace, harmony, and spiritual strength to LBI. He received his black belt in 1968 from Koichi Tohei in New York City, and at age 98 Bill still practices martial arts. Believing others could benefit from the study of aikido, he brought instructors to the Island. “At first we used the back room of my restaurant,” explains Bill. “Eventually, I bought a building in Beach Haven Crest and opened a dojo. Classes were open to the public. Later we moved to St. Francis church. My friend, Chet Griffin still lives on LBI and continues to practice aikido, qigong, and tai chi.”

At some point, each of Bill and Marge’s four children helped at the family restaurant.

Peggy and Pat waitressed. Billy helped in the kitchen. Kassy bussed tables and eventually worked at the front register. Marge passed away in May of 1994. Over the years the Willem family has grown to include six grandchildren and five great grandchildren.

During our interview, Bill is joined by his daughters — Pat and Peggy. Together they laugh and occasionally wipe away tears as they reminisce about life on LBI; winter evenings at Manahawkin Lake with the family, ice skating and warming up by the bonfires built in old steel drums, sledding on Long Beach Boulevard when Bill tied an old saucer-shaped metal Coca Cola sign to the back of his truck and slowly cruised the Boulevard with the kids in tow, and of falling asleep on warm summer nights to the echoes of the loud speakers at the trampoline park on the Boulevard “...no flipping, please.”

Thinking back on his life, Bill’s memories are of halcyon days on LBI with Marge as they built a business, raised their children, and watched their family grow. —Diane Stulga.

Photography courtesy of Bill Willem Epilogue: After many years of living in Florida, Bill is moving back to LBI. He looks forward to making the Island his home once again.

Page 100 • Echoes of LBI

Page 102 • Echoes of LBI

F

or the past seventy years, Long Beach Island has been a special part of my life. I was only two weeks old when my parents introduced me to LBI. From then on, along with my sister and two brothers, my family spent summers at our shore house in Peahala Park. My siblings and I often reminisce about catching flounder on our father’s boat and pulling in monster-sized blue crabs. The crabs were cooked and consumed on newspapers spread out on the picnic table in our screened-in porch. My father sometimes brought home wooden bushel baskets filled with clams that we steamed or baked with bacon on top. They were so good; we fought for the last one.

Many summer days we water skied for hours off the back of my father’s boat until we ran low on gas. Swimming in the ocean or bay always involved floating on large black rubber inner tubes repurposed from big truck tires.

Even today, the smell of rubber still brings back memories of those inner tubes and the fun we had. On our ocean walks, we searched for starfish clinging to the black jetty rocks. On the bay beaches, horseshoe crabs were plentiful, especially on a full moon in spring. As we sat on the bay beach benches, we’d count the numerous turtle heads that appeared in the water.

Sometimes, we even spotted turtles walking down the middle of our street.

Now, even though the blue crabs seem smaller, the horseshoe crabs are scarcer, and a starfish may be hard to find, I still see LBI through the lens of my childhood memories. And as I watch my five grandchildren play in the ocean and enjoy the beach, my hope is that they also will create many lifetime memories of their days on LBI. —Photography and story courtesy of Marcy Roshelli

Page 104 • Echoes of LBI

B

orn in Manhattan in 1933, Margaret “Pooch” Thomas arrived in Harvey Cedars, shortly thereafter, tucked inside a laundry basket.

sitting with her for this interview — a firsthand telling of “growing up wild on the north end”— feels like a special gift, one which I’ll gladly share.

The Great Depression had taken hold and her young parents needed to find a place for her father, Reynold Thomas — who had been gassed in World War I — to live a healthy, outdoor life. Pooch’s great-grandfather on her mother’s side, John Kinsey, had come to Barnegat Light after the Civil War to open a hotel, and an uncle, J.B. Kinsey, offered the young family a building lot on the bay. So, for these strange and difficult times it seemed the perfect place for the growing Thomas clan to land.

Eighty-eight years later, seemingly the same dynamo she’s always been, Margaret “Pooch” Thomas Buchholz has lived the better part of her life on Long Beach Island. As the owner and publisher of the free and indispensable Island newspaper, The Beachcomber, from 1955 to 1987, she has contributed in countless ways to the Island’s cultural and business vitality.

And as far as I’m concerned, she’s the closest thing this Island has to royalty.

Living today on the same patch of sand where her parents first set that basket down, Pooch vividly recalls a time on LBI accessed now only in photographs. So,

into ‘Poochy.’ I hated it as a kid, and didn’t really take to it until the 1990s, when I put it on my license plate; so, I guess I’ve accepted it.”

As Pooch tells it, she’s had a lot of nicknames growing up. “At Barnegat High where I played basketball, softball, and was a cheerleader they called me ‘Birdie.’ In college my nickname was ‘Tommie.’

I still have a friend who writes to me that way. And my second husband, Guenter Buchholz, the German architect, preferred Margaret.”

“But wait,” I say, “we’re getting ahead of ourselves. What else can you tell me about Barnegat High in the late 1940s?” “Every day on the bus, sixteen miles over to the mainland and sixteen miles back,” says Pooch. “Some days, on the way home in the late bus — after play rehearsals or sports — when it only went south to drop-off the Beach Haven kids, I’d have to get a ride or hitchhike home from the circle in Ship Bottom.”

Of course, the first thing I want to know is why the nickname Pooch? “That came by way of my German nursemaid,” she chuckles. “She called me her little doll, her ‘Püppchen’, which my father morphed

What was it like for girls in Harvey Cedars back then?

“Girls?” Pooch quips. “Except in summer there weren’t any other girls my age when my younger brother, Michael, and I were growing up. My friends were all boys, which made me keep up. Joey Meshberg, Jimmy McClellan, and Freddy

Slover are a few names that come to mind.

Running, jumping, swimming, you name it. We played touch football on the only lawn in town — when the owners weren’t there of course. I would walk out on the top pipe of the floating pontoon of my father’s dredge faster and more gracefully than they could.

Scavenging on the beach, calling dibs on the flotsam and jetsam that washed up from the ships torpedoed offshore, dragging home K-rations, rubber ponchos, life jackets, and the prize catch: a 12-foot rope ladder! And these little glass vials we called yellow bombs which would sort of explode when thrown on the road. They were actually water purifiers from lifeboats.

The beach was our playground. Every day was an adventure.”

“Weren’t you ever lonely?” I ask. “Not really,” muses Pooch. “Somedays I did need to get away for a little peace and quiet and would take my book up to the beach. I biked to a house on the ocean in Loveladies. It’s still there, with a double row of dunes in front, where I’d lie on the warm sand and read.”

And what about your early LBI job opportunities? “I always worked in the summers. The first money I made was selling softies — soft-shell crabs. I poked them out from behind the bulkhead pilings with my foot into a net and got 25-cents apiece for good-sized ones. Who could turn down a freshly caught crab from a

Page 106 • Echoes of LBI

smiling child? Sell a couple of those to Mr. Houghton, who owned the clam bar at 83rd Street, and I could buy a book of Deanna Durbin paper doll cut-outs at the original Ship’s Wheel on the boulevard. That and treading for clams certainly padded my 15-cent-a-week allowance. I remember once showing my mother the $1.50 I made. She couldn’t believe it. In high school I did what everybody did — scooped ice cream, babysat, and later got a job as an elevator operator at the old Baldwin Hotel in Beach Haven. At first, I was a waitress, which I hated and wasn’t very good at. So, after I dropped a tray and cried instead of cleaning up the mess, the owner gave me the 4 to 10 shift on the elevator. I loved it. I could read, chat with the guests, and when I got off at 10 o’clock I’d meet my friends and we could fool around for a couple of hours.”

You said you had a health scare as a youth. What was that about?

“Between the 8th and 9th grades I was diagnosed with polio, which caused scoliosis of the spine, so my doctor pretty much ordered me to exercise and be as active as I could — to force my growing body into its original straightness — so I did. And it worked! I loved all sports, acrobatics, dancing. Lots of dancing! My Aunt Milly taught me some of the moves she’d learned when she studied with Martha Graham. By the time I graduated college

my back was almost perfectly straight.”

But wait, we’re rushing ahead. You’re already in college? “I wanted to go to Whittier in California, but my parents said forget it, it was too far away. I graduated from Cedar Crest College in Allentown, Pennsylvania. English major, in 1954. And

during those three summers I got a job selling advertising for The Beachcomber.

My mother told me I should ask for $50 a week. So, I did, and I got it.”

And soon after that you were offered the chance to buy the paper? “In March 1955 I married Bill Douglas who was the editor of the Beach Haven Times, and we became owners of the five-yearold Beachcomber. After Bill’s sudden death in ’57, I ran it for the next thirty-two years, before selling it to the owners of The Sandpaper, who kept me on as an editor for the next twenty years. I was lucky to have had such good writers in the beginning, who were only too happy to write for what I could afford.”

What about this house we’re sitting in? It’s the same cottage your parents brought you to in that basket, right? “Almost.

Daddy’s uncle gave them a place to stay that first year, then they built this house in 1934 for $200. At first it was heated with a potbelly coal stove, with two bunks for my parents. The house was enlarged two years later

when my brother was born. Some of the walls have been rearranged but it’s still all on one floor. My father thought we’d lose it in the hurricanes of ’38 and ’44 and we evacuated both times. After that, my mother wanted off the Island but, thank God, my father talked her out of it.”

Sitting in her airy living space with the bay just an arm’s length away it’s clear Pooch wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

And what’s the last, funniest, most surprising thing she told me? “I never actually ate a clam until I was in my thirties,” she hoots. “One Saturday night at the Barnegat Light Yacht Club they laid out all these beautiful clams on the half-shell to slurp with our cocktails. I had one and loved it. I’ve been eating clams ever since.”

—Andrew Flack. Photography courtesy of Margaret Thomas Buchholz

T

his is a tale of two islands. They look alike and both are treasured by those who love them for the unique sights, smells, and sounds each has to offer. But they rise and set like the day and the night, one giving way to another. They will trade places again, in time. For now, the Island of fall, the Island of winter, the Island of spring, the Island that thousands call home waits for a rising tide as intimidating and indispensable as the tides of the ocean and bay and will wash over life as they know it. The tide of summer and the masses who love the sands of Long Beach Island in that glorious setting are almost here. Like spring, the blooms of energy, economy, and humanity are sprouting.

Soon, the signs of change will be everywhere. So, it has ever been, especially in the days of yesteryear when the founding families and earliest entrepreneurs of the Island lived and died by the promise of the next

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summer and all its tantalizing occupancies, of hotel rooms big and small of cottages recently built and long-standing, of taverns and dining rooms showing the wear of ages.

They invested. They built. They planned.

And then, they hoped.

At the turn of the last century, when horse and locomotive were the only means possible to traverse the vast harsh expanse of the New Jersey pine barrens separating the metropolises of Philadelphia and New York, the first hints of the seasonal transformation of the old island of Long Beach were the echoing whistles of the Tuckerton Railroad and the faint trails of smoke from the stacks of the locomotives rising above the dense pines on the mainland.

Some took the iron horse — pulling its smoky and uncomfortable open carriages — onto the Island, the procession emerg-

ing out of the green immensity suddenly naked and exposed atop a creaky trestle bridge just above the lapping waters that once spanned Manahawkin Bay across to Barnegat City Junction on 7th Street in Ship Bottom. There the traveler would wait for a north or southbound train to their cottage or hotel at either end.

In the days before this vital connection and for those with family or pleasure in the old ports of Barnegat and Tuckerton, the Baldwin locomotive fleet of the Tuckerton Railroad and its successors rumbled through forests just out of sight of the great bay and distant island, but close enough to feel its presence through cooling breezes and salty air. At both Tuckerton and Barnegat, docks and piers awaited down narrow-gauge rails shuttling the would-be islanders to the steamboats that would ferry them across miles of open water. By design Tuckerton

drew the most by far, at its zenith nearly all destined for the grand dream of a coterie of railroaders, bankers, and boarders — Beach Haven.

If the river Styx transported the ancients from one world to another, so did crossing the much kinder bay and the welcoming sights upon arrival on the distant shore usher every seaward man, woman, and child onto another plane of existence, a new and intoxicating rhythm of life unlike anything they could experience in the big cities or even the sprawling farms from whence they came.

A long pier, stretching out far into the water like an open arm warmly welcoming guests, greeted all adjacent to the dock where steamboats sidled to handoff weary travelers to carriages and horse carts bound for the city by the sea. Lining this landing were sailboats of every size and cost. Those of the well-to-do had the tallest masts, the most sails, and the finest wood trim, which with their white sails unfurled shone a heavenly brightness in the warm summer sun. And yet the luxurious maritime marvels were moored alongside simple dinghy’s and sneakboxes, too. A two-story building with a decidedly Egyptian contour loomed over the whole bustling port. This was the Beach Haven Yacht Club, often crowded in front by awaiting carriages and their horses, tails swatting annoying greenheads aside on the steamiest days.

Further ahead as guests made their way onto the Island and the extraordinary new world were the bayside Acme Hotel and storied Hotel DeCrab. The Acme was of more recent construction and larger acPage 110 • Echoes of LBI

commodations, quickly became a favorite of visitors and locals alike, even to this day.

The rustic and tiny by comparison DeCrab, though, connected the exciting new age with the untamed years of old. It began life eons earlier, in 1847, as one of the first houses of refuge for shipwrecked persons at Harvey Cedars. The old station saw lifeand-death dramas unbelievable to anyone if they were not witness to the terrible scenes, and heroism by local men worthy of every commendation and memorial that could be conjured. But it had its day, and in the early 1870s had been replaced by a new, larger building and salvaged by one of many entrepreneurs then charting the Island’s future to Beach Haven’s empty bay meadows and converted into a boarding house for decades to come, greeting the carriages and horse cart on the dry gravel paths crossing above the soggy grasses behind the beaches up and down eighteen-mile Long Beach Island.

The oft-flooded grassy meadows were the last barrier one had to cross over before the warm sands, leveled streets, and Victorian cottages and hotels could envelop the soul and sing a harmless but no less potent siren’s song trapping a part of oneself in that special place for the rest of their days.

At the bay end of Dock Road, the view was like something out of The Wizard of Oz. A rising city lay on the horizon, descending quickly to dunes and brush if one looked up or down the Island before them, an unpopulated and isolating existence that would come to be a cherished but dwindling commodity as the next century wore on. Just as the Emerald City rose from the yellow brick road, so too did the tall peaks

and spires of the two anchoring hotels in Beach Haven rise from the yellow sands at the edge of the wet, green meadows – The Engleside and Baldwin. There, from the lowest soft sand of the beach to the heights of a third-floor room with a view of the ocean in one of the hotels, dreams were born, dreams were crushed, and dreams were made real by generations in this paradise.

As quickly as this Island of dreams emerged every year and enchanted the innumerable masses beginning with the warm air and bright sun of late spring, another Island was already beginning to rise, fated to put its brother down for a long winter’s sleep. For just a few short months nature and providence afford Long Beach Island a new identity. It is perhaps fitting then, that the Island has always been host to traveling Monarch butterflies on their great seasonal migration.

Their transformation from caterpillar to butterfly is one of life’s many beautiful evolutions, a reminder that a great many things can and do change, too, even islands.

In this time of year, a beautiful paradise is about to be reborn, rising out of the cold emptiness that is lively and home to many but otherworldly to the rhythm of the summer sand and sea that call to so many.

Mourn the passing of the old Island, rejoice at the birth of the new, appreciate its ability to evolve itself so completely, and celebrate the gifts both Islands have blessed countless millions with for over four hundred years.

The dreams and the sand are the same, only the centuries and the seasons change.

—Reilly Platten Sharp, Barnegat Light Historical Society and Museum.

Photography by Robert F. Engle, courtesy of Cheryl Kirby/Echoes of LBI

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