36 “Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.” ~Victor Hugo
A typical scene in the Wildwoods of lines wrapping around the corners
good part of every issue of “The Sun” focuses on “the good old days” of summer in The Wildwoods. Now of course we know all summer days, past and present, are good down here. Those much more simpler, innocent times, however, that ended by the early 70’s, just seemed a lot more special. I’ve written many articles for The Sun about my own memories of the summers of my youth in the 1950’s to the early 70’s. One thing that just came to mind though was how much of a role music played in our lives back then. More so than now I think. I personally need music almost as much as I need food, water and air. I have to hear it every day and even when I’m not able to listen to it somehow, a song is probably going through my head. I was listening to it even before I was born. By that I mean my mother was a professional singer and worked pretty close up to my delivery day. I got a kind of a head start so to speak. Music is produced and heard year round but it seems to me that music heard in the summertime, at the seashore especially, remains in people’s memory the longest, forever associated with that year at the shore. If you mention a particular song to anyone that has spent summers in the Wildwoods, there is a good chance they will tell you the year of the summer that song came out. There is good reason for this. If you were an adult you might be on vacation from work, a youngster you were out of school for two months and down with your parents, or an older teenager or college student down here to work. But no matter who you were – you were thankful to be out of the same monotonous routine for a while. Out of the crowded dirty city, boring suburbs or institution like dorm room in almost total freedom. You wore what you wanted, woke up and went to bed when you wanted. Ate what and when you wanted. The warm sun, beach, ocean, the excitement of the boardwalk, the
Dick Clark’s first broadcast of American Bandstand was at the Starlight Ballroom on the Wildwood Boardwalk in 1957
entertainment in the nightclubs – all added up to create an almost magical fun filled, romantic, memorable environment for anyone vacationing here. Because of those very special days and nights of summer magic, any music heard during those times would be tattooed in your brain. And it was everywhere back then. Music seemed to be a steady background soundtrack of each summer. In those days it hung in the air like an invisible fog of sound . If you were on the boardwalk you could hear the current rock and roll hits coming both live and recorded from the Starlight Ballroom. If the air was right sometimes from a mile or more away. You could even feel that beat sometimes. When hundreds of teenagers were doing the stomp at the same time and you were close to the Starlight, it seemed liked even the boardwalk itself was vibrating. Many of the amusements played music as well. I had a summer job 1969-71 renting beach umbrellas from a stand on Maple Ave. beach. The Himalaya ride on Hunt’s Pier played top 40 hits 7 days per week from opening till closing. I know every word to every song that came out those summers – even the ones I didn’t like. If you were on the beach it wouldn’t just be from rides like the Himalaya that you would hear music. In those days before personal music devices, everyone had transistor radios. They were all tuned in to WIBG, WCMC, WFIL, WMID – whatever was coming in the clearest. You would hear a mixed symphony of all the current hits - all at the same time. I almost forgot that music coming from the beach grilles. If you walked (or even drove) down streets like Pacific or Atlantic Ave., you would hear live music from famous entertainers such as Chubby Checker, Bobby Rydell, Charlie Gracie, The Treniers. Bits and pieces of music that is, as the doorman briefly opened up to let in more
Charlie Gracie at the Bolero 1964
customers. In the case of the long forgotten afternoon jam sessions, sometimes those doors would be left wide open. Juke boxes in those days were very common. Every corner bar, soda shop, café and diner had one. Constant music that you would have to hear whether you wanted to or not chosen by whoever put a dime in. My fist job (at 13) in 1967 was as a busboy at Amato’s Italian Restaurant (later Palermo’s) at 18th and Atlantic in North Wildwood. There was a dishwasher named Ted, a lot older than me, who came from a rough neighborhood in D.C. He loved music – but just soul music. He would give me dimes and quarters all night long to feed into that machine. I still know all those songs by heart. Hardly a customer had a chance to put a dime in. If they did though, and played something like the Beach Boys – man would he cringe! I swear he must have put a good deal of his salary in that juke box. Air conditioning in vehicles or homes was almost unheard of then. So even relaxing on your front porch, walking down the street, or even sitting inside your own house or apartment - you could still hear music. It drifted from radios and TV’s inside other houses, from cars driving by with open windows, backyard parties. You could not get away from it – but it was so good back then I don’t think many even cared. I’m a bit embarrassed to say I pretty much stopped listening to new music about 1988, give or take a few years. Can’t tell you very much about anything after that. So in a way I’m a senior citizen who’s summer music soundtrack is finished. I can live with that though. It’s a wonderful soundtrack of some unforgettable summers. But man am I good at music trivia from those old days. Name me a song and I’ll tell you the summer.
