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Mantoloking e m o r 1911-2011 i e s

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MANTOLOKING MEMORIES

in celebration of the Centennial 1911 – 2011

Introduction. Our lives are defined by rhythms – of the days, of the seasons, of the years. The Mantoloking Centennial celebration is a recognition of the special rhythm of our town. So it is no surprise that the Mantoloking Memories recorded here attest to the rhythms of lives lived within this one hundred year cycle, in particular, the rhythm of generations – grandparents, parents, children, and grandchildren. In Mantoloking we are especially conscious of the rhythms of nature that provide the context for our lives – the motion between high and low tides, the changing winds, the rising moon full over the ocean then later in its monthly cycle thin and high to the west, the migrating ducks, travelers from the north, and the departure and return of our own laughing gulls, blossoms in the spring transformed to beach plums in the fall. Underlying all these rhythms, there is the enduring presence, the deeply centering rhythm of the breaking waves.

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The Mantoloking Reporter wishes to thank the following contributors. Each account, long or short, is an important addition to our collective effort to create a many faceted image of Mantoloking past. Anonymous Barry, Joan Morris Becker, Mike and Catherine Benedict, Anne Berger, Conrad Berger, Fredericka Nolde Buck, Ruthie Fox

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Bullitt, Richard S. Carpenter, Charlie Colie-Lewis, Ann Runyon Crivelli, Joe and AnnaMarie Dunbar, Bill and Julie Ehrgood, Debbie Filippone, Ames Frattarelli, Michael Giammattei, Frank Giammattei, Helen Hamlin, Susan Tubbs Jenkins, Barbara Jones, Lucie and Garv Kerr, John Link, Tom and Connie McIntyre, Sandy Schmidt McMahon, Caroline Mauro, Thomas Miller, Julie Post Morris, Geoffrey Nelson, Doug Olney, David Masters Pascoe, Kelsey Kerr

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Pilling, Connie Post, Bob Post, Jane Potter, Marilyn and Bert Rodgers, Barbara Roman, Robert Sigety, Virginia Smyth, Cynie Olson Stokes, John Tubbs, Don Tubbs, William B. Vaeth, Jimmy Vreeland, Peggy Watson, William White, Edgar White, Ellie Wilder, Chris C.C.Carpenter Wilson Younghans, Jon For additional memories and pictures, see the Mantoloking Facebook page.

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Anonymous It must have been in the mid forties that all teams were stumped on a treasure-hunt clue. We milled around the yacht club porch, where Mrs. Price Senior, in pastels and white shoes, sat next to George Brower. She, gently rocking and thinking, he smoking his pipe. We read the first line to her, hoping for help: “Take a swallow...” it began. Whereupon she thought some more and said , so that only those of us in front could hear, “If my knowledge of French is correct...” We led the galloping pack to the far dock where the scows were cradled, read the clue from Hirondelle, and sailed off to find the next, oilskinned onto the yellow racing barrel off Swan Point. I forget whose team won; it wasn’t ours. We needed more than a smattering of French to be on a par with Mrs. Price. And maybe a faster boat than M 88—a sneakbox. I hope they still have sailing treasure hunts. I hope wise people still spread clues, still rock on the yacht club porch, still enjoin the young to succeed.

Joan Morris Barry Mantoloking Food Market Mantoloking had a food market until the early 1980s. The Polhemus family owned the Mantoloking General Market at the corner of Downer and Bay Avenues across from the police station, in what are now private apartments. Bill Valance took over the market and ran it for several years. In the late sixties my parents Joan and Bob Morris bought the market—to teach their seven children a lesson in entrepreneurship. The four older kids ran the business, The Mantoloking Food Market, which carried local brands such as Durling milk and Costa ice cream. Frank the butcher, who had retired from Brooklyn, provided prime fresh meats, cold cuts, and other deli favorites. We had regular customers and knew practically everyone by name. Many families had a charge account. Kids could come from the beach or sailing with no money. They’d order sandwiches, ice cream, and soda and just say, “Charge it!” Newspapers were a big chore and a big hit. We would get up at 5 a.m. Sundays and form an assembly line to compile the New York Times. In the first Fourth of July

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parade the Mantoloking Food Market entry was a green convertible full of Morrises, Nebels, and Commettes. Next door to the market was The Islander surf shop owned by the Robinsons and managed by Owen Hart. Every kid in town had an Islander t-shirt. After the surf shop Bob Morris’s sister, my aunt Kathleen, opened a jewelry and clothing shop called Ideas. In 1976 the McGregors from Bay Head bought the market. Ultimately it was a business idea before its time: with only a summer customer base the owners still needed to pay rent, etc., all year, which ultimately made it unsustainable. Today it would no doubt have the support to thrive. –Joan Morris Barry

Mike and Katherine Becker Two big events in our lives in Mantoloking Katherine and I bought our home in the summer of 1997. It has served as a special family getaway for our large family and many friends. But we wanted to single out two events, one of which made an impression on our neighbors, too. The wedding - On a windy, stormy, threatening, August 26, 2006, our youngest daughter was married on the sand in front of our dune. About 100 friends and family joined us for a wonderful ceremony. That afternoon, my soon to be son-in-law and I ran to Home Depot and bought many big rolls of transparent plastic to cover the three porches and prepare for the worst. As the service began, the weather cleared and we were blessed. There were great photos of this festive, wonderful, occasion. The movie - The other interesting event took place during mid-July in 2008. Pierce Bronson, Susan Sarandon and their movie production company asked if they could spend a week at our home shooting scenes for their movie titled The Greatest. The crew, of close to 75, painted rooms, brought in rented furniture, trucked in tons of heavy equipment and even rented celebrity “johns”. They got permission to park vehicles and use the church lot for catered meals. It was a fun experience. Our own well-known and well-respected policeman Gino was hired along with others to supervise traffic and keep the beach clear for the outside filming. If anyone ones to see photos they can email me at mike@beckercomm.com and I will send them. There have been many great times but these were two very special ones. Thanks for letting us share it with you. We love Mantoloking.

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Anne Benedict The children would ride in the back of the town truck, during the war, to pick up paper and cans for the war effort. As I remember we did this once a week Conrad Berger Since my father was a college professor, we were able to make the move from Maryland to Mantoloking in early June, and stay there until the end of August. The night before our departure I would be as restless and excited as the night before Christmas. We would set out early with our massive 1970 Dodge Polara station wagon filled to the brim, my brother’s parakeet in his cage covered with a cloth on the rear deck, his chirping accompanying us for the entire journey. As we pulled on to the entrance ramp of the highway my dad would always say, “And we’re off!” My sense of expectation grew as we crossed the Delaware Memorial Bridge and arrived in New Jersey. But it wasn’t until we started heading east on Route 70 that I started imagining the ocean. From that point on it was a growing, unseen presence. The landscape was flat and the soil by the side of the highway was now sandy. The sound of the tires on the pavement was like a railroad car, reminding me of Ocean Avenue. Even the stunted pine trees all around, no longer blocking the sky, seemed to be aware of what lay ahead. After Bricktown we were on the home stretch, and every motel and building that we passed was a friendly landmark, welcoming us back. It was always amazing to me that after an entire school year these familiar sights were all still right there exactly where we had left them. Coming over the bridge increased the excitement of our arrival. We would spot the rowboat rental place at the foot of the bridge and then in an instant we were lifted up into the air and saw the whole town spread out beneath us. My eyes went directly to the houses next to the beach, and the sparkling ocean beyond them. Our own house was down there, just to the left of Herbert Street, it was strange to see it in the distance like a toy house, with the third floor windows just visible, and imagine someone inside them gazing back up at the bridge. A couple of minutes later we were tearing off our shoes and socks and then running over the dune and out on to the beach. Now our Summer had really begun and it felt like we would have forever to enjoy it. There was no thought of how in a couple of months the dune grass would be sprouting like ears of corn, the beach would be crowded with flocks of gulls heading south, and the sad awareness would come over us that soon we’d be heading back to Maryland and school.

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Fredericka Nolde Berger Like the people, the houses are presences in Mantoloking. And like people, they have their mysteries. The Mantoloking Memory that I want to tell about is the mystery of a house within a house. It is a memory of the dollhouse that occupied an entire room in Miss Gertrude Symonds’ late 19th century ocean front cottage, the first house south of the Herbert Street right of way. She shared the house with Molly Whitman, a friend since their childhood together in Mantoloking. (In the winter, they lived in Mrs. Whitman’s New York City brownstone.) Walking along the beach, looking up at the house, impenetrable, like the others, one would never have imagined that there was an immense dollhouse behind the windows of the southeast bedroom. The best room in the house, they would declare, laughing at the absurdity of it. How these childhood friends, living together in their later years, had come with the help of a local carpenter to fashion a dollhouse that was so large that it couldn’t be extracted from the room without being taken apart, I can’t say. What I do know is that it was an evolving, collaborative work of art. Miss Symonds attended to the setting – dusting the rooms, arranging the pots in the kitchen, the dinner china on the dining room table, and all the other tiny furnishings. She also cared for the actors – taking the fragile old bisque dolls to New York to be mended. Mrs. Whitman created the narrative. When you visited for drinks, you might be fortunate enough to be taken upstairs and introduced to the Percy family by the author. First to Mrs. Percy, who was in charge (Mr. Percy lurked out back with his horse and dog) and had pretensions. Her aristocratic ancestry was confirmed by the (miniature) oil painting of the family manor house in England hanging over the fireplace. Then to Mrs. Percy’s mother, who provided calm counsel persuading her not to fire the frequently tipsy cook by reminding her to “think of her sauces”. And last in the newly built wing to Shelia, the “mah-dern” daughter-in-law from California who insisted on having a bar with bar stools, and wore dark glasses. Aware of Mrs. Percy’s disapproval, Shelia quickly realized that her best strategy for disarming her mother-in-law was to get into “a family way”. This is just a sampling. They were not stories for children. While the rest of us returned to Mantoloking each summer a year older, including, alas, Mrs. Whitman and Miss Symonds (still walking by the ocean with the wind blowing their white hair and white dresses like foam), the Percys were secure in their beach house time warp. That is until in the 1970’s Miss Symonds decided to sell the house. (How can you bear to leave? I asked. What will you do with them? I wondered, but did not ask.) As to what happened to the dollhouse and its occupants, I never tried to find out. To me, they are still in the remembered southeast bedroom tended by Mrs. Whitman and Miss Symonds. Yes, the ghosts of Mantoloking Memories linger still behind the mysterious windows of the houses.

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Ruthie Fox Buck My family told me we were going to our new summer home in New Jersey instead of to Cape Cod in June 1934. It seemed forever before my family said we had arrived and then I heard the “plunkity plunk” of the car going over an old wooden bridge that crossed over Barnegat Bay. It was as though we had entered a place that was only known to a very few people and for the next forty-three years this was my home and where we lived in the winter was only a place you went in order to go to school. The very first day I went to the bathing beach. (It was at the end of Princeton Avenue.) and met the Lewises and today 77 years later my husband, Bill Buck, and I are staying with Lady LEWIS Ramsdell and Ed to celebrate this wonderful Centennial. Life revolved around the Yacht club, the beach, home and on Sunday – church. Before we were old enough to be involved in sailing (which became the most important part of your life) Lady and I would sometimes walk to the bridge and help Steve and Bart walk the big iron key around to open the bridge and let a boater through. We always knew when it was time to go home because at noon the chief of police, Hat Herbert, would sound the fire horn ONCE and everyone scrambled for their bikes and went home only to return to the beach for a swim before lunch. Ducky was the life guard and in the winter he was a policeman. At the end of Arnold avenue by the Loverings house there was a beach and Ducky taught us all how to swim and then took us up to the beach to learn about the ocean and how to swim in rough water and to mind him when he warned us about undertows and seapusses. Without even realizing it, before long you felt that everyone was family. Mr. Polhemus who owned the Mantoloking store that was also the post office which made him the postmaster as well, sold penny candy and would put milky ways in the ice cream freezer for those that wanted them frozen. He was family. All the same families came year after year and for us Mantoloking ended to the North where Barnegat Lane started and to the South where the old Coast Guard station was. Gone is the Good Humor man who came down the main road and all the kids would run out in the evening to get dessert. There was also Huddy Polhemus who would deliver ice to those homes that didn’t have a refrigerator and Mr. Helmuth (sp?) who would come by and bring fresh vegetables on his special truck. And the train that went chugging by in you backyard, (if you happened to live on the west side of the road, it wasn’t considered a highway in those days) that had crossed the bay over the RR bridge at Seaside Park and come up the narrow spit of Jersey to Bay Head Junction only to turn around and chug back down to Philadelphia. Gone too is the Breakers hotel, the RR station and freight platform and the Mantoloking Garage. When the war came, Mantoloking changed and that was the beginning of a whole other time for the families of Mantoloking.

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Bullitt, Richard S. I first came to Mantoloking from Philadelphia in 1956, the year I was born. My grandparents, John and Marjorie Hirst, owned the big house by the bridge at 1200 Bay Avenue. They also owned the house across the street (the little house), and they eventually built the house next door to the big house. I have many personal memories that would not be significant to anyone else, but I do remember crabbing. You used a net that looked like a basketball hoop on a broom handle. You would go quietly from piling to piling on the dock, looking for a crab working on the barnacles. Your shadow couldn’t cover him or he’d be gone. You had to dip your net into the water, and you would have to guide the metal hoop just behind him with the nonchalance of drifting seaweed. Then you’d slap the net over him; give a twist (so he couldn’t escape through the open mouth of the net when you brought him off the piling); and lever the net up like a shovel full of Barnegat Bay. An armored rainbow would fly out of the water snapping and clacking in your net as you lifted him clear, with pink trim on his claws, blue on his flippers and legs, green camouflage on his back, and cream underneath, the color of expensive writing paper. Then, you lowered the net back in the water and flicked it inside out so you could watch him swim off indignantly into the murk. If he was small, he would scoot away, free. If he was big, he would glide away, dignity restored. Charlie Carpenter I was first introduced to Mantoloking as a child by my parents in 1942 (?) at the age of 7 or 8. I continued to go there for the next 20 years and then off and on to this day. The Hurricane of August, 1945 or Was It 1944? Even in those days, we got frequent radio broadcasts about approaching hurricanes. So our mother, Joy Carpenter consulted “Hat” Herbert , then Mantoloking’s Chief of Police as to whether we should leave. He replied that we never got hit by such storms. So we stayed. As it turns out, his prediction was totally incorrect as the full force of the hurricane hit Mantoloking with the eye seemingly passing over the corner of Ocean and Downer Avenues (I believe this to be true because during the early stages of the storm the wind was out of the northeast. Later, there was a pause in the intensity of the winds and rain followed by a 180 degree wind shift with a wall of water coming across Mr. Barnegat’s Bay from the west causing considerable damage to the houses on the Bay). We decided that we should leave when the captain’s walk on the roof our house (1420 Ocean Ave,) blew off and landed in the backyard. The three block trip to the Bridge was frightening as the waves were crossing Route 35 and kept knocking us sideways. Once across the bridge, we took a circuitous route due to many downed trees to Lakewood where we found refuge in a hotel.

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The next day was beautiful and we returned to Mantoloking as did our father, Chuck Carpenter (Famous for his friendliness and accordion-playing) who had been on a business trip. He and I did two things that day that I will never forget. First, we heard that many Stripped Bass were being caught out of the surf. So we went over to the ocean and caught 5 of our own. I personally got a 5 pounder which was very exciting for a 10 (Or was it 9) year old. Next, we walked about town surveying the extreme damage to our beloved town. One of the casualties was the Pennsylvania Railroad Station which was completely destroyed. Nearby we came upon the red and gold “Mantoloking” station sign. Thinking, that this must be preserved, my father thought that we should give it to Morton Price, who then was serving as Mayor. Later, the sign was given to The Cates, descendants of Mantoloking’s founders, the Downers. To my knowledge, it still hangs in their living room at 6 Carpenter Lane. Ann Runyon Colie-Lewis I Hi, I've attached a page with three memories. There are so many more. Putting our lasers in St Simons during a hurricane, running around shutting windows when the town truck was driving up and down the roads spraying DDT (and more than once running through the spray), fireworks up on the beach, an A-cat upsetting in the main basin (maybe the Bat) after getting a throw of it's mainsheet over a piling on the Big T dock. Ann Runyon Colie-Lewis II

How and when I first came to Mantoloking- I was born into it! My great-great grandparents first came to Mantoloking when my grandfather was a baby, in the 1880’s. The Bluefish Running. My grandmother, Weed, lived up on the beach directly across from Saint Simons’. When the bluefish would run she would be one of the first to know. Weed would send the grandchildren running across Rt. 35 (there wasn’t very much traffic) to ring the bell in the church to alert everyone. It was always an exciting time! We would then go back across the street and join all the adults who were fishing. The children would collect the biggest and best clam shells we could find; studying them carefully to make sure we only brought back the best. That night we would have broiled bluefish, and in the morning the leftovers would be cooked up as creamed bluefish and baked in the clam shells, one for each person. Sunfish in the bay. Sometime in the mid ‘60s a sunfish got into the bay (I remember thinking for sure it was a shark). I don’t remember much about the capture. But I do know Mike Spark, who was the sailing instructor that summer, was the hero. He, and others, caught and dragged the sunfish into a dory. Then with everyone running alongside, carried it up to the beach and released it into the ocean. It seemed like the whole town was there.

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Storm of ’62. My parents went down to survey the damage to the house and town shortly after the storm of ’62. I was 6 years old. The Thomlinson’s house, just to the south of ours (Weedie’s), had been swept off it’s foundation and was tilted at an angle. I remember sneaking inside the house with my brother and sister. It was so exciting to a six year old, just like being in a fun house! Just trying to walk was a challenge, and the stairs were unmanageable. Rather dangerous, but as kids, we thought we were just having fun.

Joe & AnnaMarie Crivelli and family

The Crivelli memories of Mantoloking started back in the late 1960’s as we spent our Fourth of July’s at the home of Paul and Joan DeLorenzo in South Mantoloking. The days were spent eating seafood and pasta and the nights watching our dads, Anthony “Undoe” Crivelli and Paul “Paulie” DeLorenzo, light the sky with fireworks as their children sat around the bonfire on the beach. After a sudden unexpected passing of our father, “Undoe”, in 1986, a family friend in Mantoloking, Joe Ryan, found a permanent place for us to spend our summers at 912 Ocean Avenue. It has been twenty-five years of extraordinary memories watching our daughters, AlexaMarie, Gianna, and Joey, and our niece, Gabriella, catch their first fish off the surf to riding their first wave in the Atlantic Ocean. For years we celebrated the “San Crivelli Fest”, an annual themed weekend retreat in September bringing together our college friends and spouses. Fourth of July is celebrated every year with family and friends at our home here. Our priceless memories of housing 20+ family members with kids strewn across the family room floor on blankets and pillows; precious little faces lined up across the room. As always and in the Italian tradition, our homemade crab sauce and linguine brings everyone back each year. We will never forget our close friend and next-door neighbor, Hank. Mantoloking has become a part of the Crivelli life from the yesterdays, todays, and for the many tomorrows our children will enjoy.

912 Ocean Avenue and Mantoloking is our mom’s, Fran Crivelli, home; her place of joy and happiness with her two son and their families, Anthony & Debbie and daughter Gabriella; and Joseph and AnnaMarie and 3 daughters, AlexaMarie, Gianna, and Joey.

In loving memory of her husband and our father, Anthony “Undoe” Crivelli.

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Julie and Bill Dunbar

1960-2007 in Mantoloking

Resided on permanent basis 33 years.

Bill - My greatest memory of Mantoloking was serving the town as Mayor for eight years and working with the wonderful employees of the Borough.

Julie - My fondest memories of Mantoloking were the children and grandchildren on the beach.

Debbi (Schmidt) Ehrgood My family rented a summer home in 1952. We fell in love with Mantoloking so my father purchased the land next to that house and built our summer home. I have been here ever since. So many Mantoloking memories! I've been fortunate to be a summer resident of Mantoloking since 1952. Almost 60 years. Such a wonderful place to grow up, and subsequently, watch my children grow up. Now I am watching my grandson make Mantoloking memories of his own. Some of the things that I remember: learning to ride a bike on Lagoon Lane, the vegetable man who arrived in his truck once a week, the knife sharper man ringing his bell, the Dugan man who delivered bread and cupcakes, the man who came and sold gladiolas (we always had a vase of gladiolas on the hearth and I still use that vase today for the gladiolas that my husband grows in his garden in remembrance of my Mom), riding our bikes behind the mosquito spray truck, swimming lessons with George at the little beach, riding the waves on a blue and red rubber raft, docking at the Mantoloking Yacht Club and walking to the post office to pick up the mail and then stopping at the little store for a candy bar, the Good Humor man, buying balloons on Sunday, a helicopter landing in the yard of the house across the lagoon, my transistor radio sliding off the bow of the boat into the Metedeconk, learning to water ski on the flats, setting bait traps off Herring Island, fishing for snappers with a bamboo pole and bobber, performing a neighborhood circus in Mrs. Hansell's yard and doing cannon balls off her dock, wearing matching bathing suits with my friend next door, spitting watermelon seeds into the lagoon, feeding the ducks, running through the soaker hose that the life guards would put on the sand when it got too hot, jumping off the life guard stand, crawling under the wooden life guard boat, taking Sweptwing to "turtle country" at the mouth of the Metedeconk and swinging off the vines, sitting on the screened porch on rainy days playing cards, but most of all I remember dear friends. Friends that have lasted a lifetime. A few of us still live on the same street. Some in the same house. Others return each summer to visit the magical place of our youth. Our favorite game to play is "remember when". Happy Birthday Mantoloking and thanks for the memories.

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Ames L. Filippone After searching intermittently for 10 years we bought a house on the bay in 1980 . In the 40's we had vacationed in Bay Head, and I recall fishing and crabbing off a railroad trestle that led to Mantoloking . It was a calm quaint place imbued with an attractive simplicity that drew us back some 40 years later. [Thankfully the railroad tracks are gone]

Michael Frattarelli

Resident - 1984 - Present I grew up vacationing in Mantoloking, since I was a small child. It was a place that my parents considered the only placed to be at the Jersey shore. Mantoloking was our oasis. A place where we could depart from the stress and grind of daily life by taking only a short drive from home. Unfortunately, both my parents, Vincent and Gilda, have recently passed away, but their presence will always be felt the strongest here. They were always outdoors, gardening, taking their daily walks around town and on the beach, their beloved dog happily in tow. All I have to do is close my eyes and breathe in the clean salt air and we are all together again. We all loved and love Mantoloking and everything it has to offer, but it is now more than ever a special place for me and my family to build new memories and fondly remember old ones.

Frank Giammattei

My memories are many. I'm a newcomer to Mantoloking, as I arrived there when I was nine years old. Sailing and racing on Barnegat Bay are special memories, but the most important memory was meeting and dating Helen Ill in 1946. Little did I know that we would be approaching our 60th wedding anniversary this year, and that our three children and ten grandchildren would all have a special fondness for Mantoloking.

Helen Giammattei

End of World War II

My name is Helen Ill Giammattei and I have spent eighty summers in Mantoloking. One memorable occasion was August 14, 1945 when the war came to an end. A group of us went to St. Simon's church and rang the bell to let everyone know something special was happening. The rules during the war were very strict that no light could be reflected from our homes and it was a VERY dark at night. Later on we went to the club and climbed into a sneakbox, took off our clothes and went skinny-dipping! As 14 and 15-year olds, that was the most daring we could think

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of! Life was innocent back then. It was all girls--Helenie Carmer Diehl, Mary Pennywitt Lester and I'm sure others, but I don't remember specifically. It is particularly special that we not only were able to bring our children to Mantoloking, but our grandchildren are also enjoying all the seashore charms. I met Frank Giammattei at the down-bay cruise to Beach Haven in 1946.

To:

Susan Tubbs Hamlin I'm Bill's sister and I'm not sure this little non-story will be of much interest to others so please consider including it as you see fit. I remember hearing about him getting up with the sun when he was 3 or 4 years old (mid-1960's). We lived at 1224 Ocean Avenue, two houses north of "old" Mrs. White (grandmother of Lili, et al). Occasionally, she'd spot Bill walking past her house and call our mom to say Bill was loose. As Bill remembers, he was told not to cross the highway so he'd venture over to Bay Avenue and wave "good-bye" to the dads who were leaving town at 6am. Neither of us remembers anyone ever searching for him and bringing him back to the house; we think he was usually back before he was missed. And all these years later, he can still be seen waving to friends (and we'll forgive him for crossing the border and moving to Bay Head!). Barbara Jenkins As newcomers to Mantoloking, we can only absorb the glory of those who were the early pioneers! We bought our house in 1986 as a "handyman's special" with great bones and the feeling of past days of wonder. Although we have been in our house for 25 years now, it is still occasionally referred to as the Arkell/Price House. While we enjoyed "fixing up" our new acquisition, we tried to maintain the integrity of the original house. So when the height chart on the back of our bedroom closet door warned us "DON'T PAINT OFER OR ERACE" we obediently painted around it! The markings on the back of the door were dated in the fifties and included each child's name and height. Several years ago, an attractive young woman knocked on our door. She said she had grown up in our house and asked to come inside to look around. I proudly showed her the "folk art" on the back of our closet door. Seeing it brought tears to her eyes. She was one of those children who had recorded her height for posterity. She stayed for quite a while regaling us with tales of her family and gave us a clear picture of the history of our house. As she left, she promised to send us pictures of our house that she had back in California. When the pictures arrived, included among them was one of Richard Nixon sitting in our living room with Pat, Tricia,and Julie!

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Garvin L. Jones Sailing Picnics As the long days of summer extended the evenings, the MYC B-Cats (Sanderlings) would prepare to sail “down bay” around 5 PM to raft up at the famous Mosquito Cove. The power boats had dissipated by this time, so it was a nice leisurely sail to our destination. The boats usually rafted up in twos within “low shouting” distance of each other. The sun was over the proverbial yardarm and the festivities began. With ample good food and drink the “song birds” arrived making for a very successful and enjoyable picnic. The most exciting part was our return back to the Club. All the B-Cats were lashed together – 8 to 10 boats. We “kicked” a couple of outboards to give ourselves a little momentum, one to three boats hiked their sails to sustain our speed, and we headed north. The Bay was empty and black, only some shore lights could be seen. We charged up the Bay with just the sound of rushing water as the boats sailed on. There is no greater experience than sailing during the night. What a thrill it was with all those boats lashed together! Eventually we broke loose and headed for our berths, But what a memory……………………………… I wonder where the Police Patrol was! John Kerr

Hello, I remember that the police chief Dalton lived with his family in an apartment above the Mantoloking Police department during the 1960's. Tom and Connie Link

A few memories from Runyon Lane: Back around Labor Day 1977 we started the closing of the beach tradition with our famous rum punches from Venezuela. Everyone brought an hors d' oeuvre (most were eventually washed out to sea) the Links supplied the rum punches, and we all said farewell to another great summer at Albertson Beach. When the Nebels moved to Runyon Lane they began the Memorial Day opening of the beach tradition on their deck. We have a great bunch of neighbors who continue to celebrate. Our 4th of July Parade float contributions have also been great fun and always a community effort. The famous duck has been ours many times: the Piping Plover State of NJ Immediate Care Facility, Don't Feed the Foxes, The Buddhist Temple, The Lincoln Bedroom, The Mantoloking Fly Assoc., the NOB's (north of the Bridge) beat us with their great

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Fatkins Diet that year but our SOB's (South of the Bridge) came back in 2007 with our Rust in Peace--Farewell to the Mantoloking Bridge. A summer on Runyon Lane has always been such fun. Sandra Schmidt McIntyre I first came to Mantoloking in 1949, My Dad, Otto Schmidt built our home in 1951 on North Lagoon Lane after renting the Meeker’s cottage next door for a summer and knew that was the place he wanted his family to spend their summers. My sister Pam Bess and her husband Stan live in that house today. Summertime in Mantoloking was an annual event for my family starting in 1949. Of course it was considered “North Mantoloking” to some as I grew up on North Lagoon Lane. The bay was much less traveled in those days. We had no mail delivery. We were actually rural free delivery. We went to the Mantoloking Post Office to pick up our mail and just picked it up from Mrs. Jahn at the window, not having a box, because we didn’t get all that much mail in Mantoloking. To help my parents my sisters and I would take turns and take a family boat down the bay and tie up at Mantoloking Yacht Club. We walked to the Post Office to pick up the mail, and then our” payment” would be going into the Mantoloking Store, which was located next to the post office for some candy or ice cream before heading back home with the mail, by boat. It certainly was a win-win situation for both my parents and me; and, most of the mail made it home except the one time a few pieces happened to fly overboard!! Caroline McMahon First came to Mantoloking to rent in the summer of 2003 and by the summer of 2004 we had purchased our beach house! The neighborhood kids enjoying Tommy's ice cream at South Beach Association, Summer 2005.

Thomas Mauro When: 1964 How: By Car Just to share some moments and memories of Mantoloking while having the pleasure of growing up here. I remember when first starting school at the G. Harold Antrim, we (brothers and sisters) would find a quarter and a dime on the kitchen counter as we would leave for school in the morning. 25cents to ride the bus to Arnold Ave In P.P.Bch., then the short walk to school. The dime was used to buy an ice cream sandwich at lunch time after an entree of sloppy Joe's or round pizza depending on

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the day of the week. We were lucky enough to grow up on the beach debating amongst ourselves weather we were fans of the Beatles or the Beach Boys. We could wander across Rt. 35 on our banana bikes unmolested during winter as the traffic was far and few between and hardly able to cross the same street in the summer. I remember building beach forts and lighting fires at night with the Belmonts, trying to camp out all night but never quite making it after being chewed on by sand bugs and sqeeters during the night. I remember walking the beach at night in winter with a flash lite and bucket scanning for frost fish (whiting) I remember statuesque Chief Dalton and his deputies Chet Ortley and Bob Norton who we had the pleasure of leading on many a wild goose chase. Remember the little island that used to be at the end of Lyman Street bay side and Herring Island..? I have all the houses from this time still pictured in my mind. We would play war at the “enemy headquarters”, houses just south of the Bay Head/Mantoloking line, ride our mini bikes around the "Breakers" parking lot, and wondered just how cool the "Air-conditioned” house was? These are just a few of many memories of Mantoloking, and though the landscape has changed.....the memories never will..!

Julie Post Miller

I came to Mantoloking as a baby. Both of my parent’s families, the Nick Posts and the Charlie Carpenters, summered in Bay Head and Mantoloking. My parent’s Bob and Jane met at a party in the summer and the rest is fairly clear.

To reference the time period, I was born in 1958. Round-robin ping pong was a nightly activity at the MYC in the 60s and 70s. That is why I can still give a decent challenge to an opponent today. The routine of my summers was to return to the MYC at night because there wasn’t really anything to do at home, not much in the way of electronic entertainment, although cards were a good option. My generation would show up after dinner and stay for a couple of hours, playing ping-pong, Spud, doing gymnastics on the lawn, sometimes a game of capture the flag. If we were lucky Caroline Vreeland would show up in her VW bus, open the door and ask who wanted to go to Carvel (a.k.a. Bob Hoffman’s) for ice cream. We would pile in, didn’t have to worry about seat belts so many could go. It was a different building then, like all the other Carvels, no inside seating. We would hang out and eat, then pile back in the van. Nothing better, ice cream and friends, plus an older teenager was taking us.

The once a month MYC barbeques and my grandfather Chuck Carpenter sometimes playing the accordion is a personal treasure. It was fascinating just watching him operate it! The afternoon before the barbeque there was always a corn husking contest, we would have to come off the beach for the twenty minutes or so it took. I think the winning team got candy. Then back to the beach…not so different from today which is good.

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Geoffrey Morris Geoffrey Morris Moved to Mantoloking 1966-7 First as summer residents, then full time in 1977 Lived at 985 Ocean, 1237 Ocean Parents Joan (1920-2003), Robert (1914-1996) Siblings: Robert Jr, Paul, Roger, Joan, William, John Henry The July 4 Flag Raising Tanned women in bikinis and men in knee-length jams stood alongside polyester politicos from North Jersey—all singing “God Bless America,” as the freshening sea breeze flapped the flag as it rose up the pole. Nearby the mayor, police chief, and minister gazed up into the summer sun, hands on chest. For most people, Christmas is the most sacred day of the year. For the Morris family it was July 4. It started around 1968 or 1969 after we moved into our beachfront house on Downer Avenue. My dad, Robert Morris, liked a good party as much as he liked the idea of America. So each year he and wife Joan hosted The Flag Raising. People arrived at 10:30 or 11, with sandwiches, deviled eggs, chips, watermelon, beer, wine, and desserts. From 11 to 11:30 the house went from zero to 250, as people crammed onto the porch, dune deck, and walkway. At noon, my dad introduced the minister, mayor, and any distinguished guest. Then he took the mic—to offer his reflections on the Declaration of Independence. Ever year was different, but theme always profoundly the same: we should be grateful to the founders for establishing this great nation. A bugler then played as one of us seven kids (and eventually grandkids) lowered the old tattered flag and yanked up a new one, as the eclectic crowd sung in unison. As quickly as people gathered, they dispersed—to the beach, to watch the town parade, or back home to Monmouth, Bergen, or Hudson County. My dad gave his last reflection in 1994 and spectated until 1996 when he died. My mother Joan and we kids continued it until we sold the house in 2000. The tradition lives on—under the same format, in the same spirit, and with many of the same faces, albeit at the yacht club. The Robert Morris Memorial Flag Raising now begins the town’s July 4 celebrations. Doug Nelson Earliest recollections are from 1950 (age six.) My grandparents, the Van Warts, built a home at the very end of Runyon Lane. There was no Curtis Point; just a huge, reedy marsh that was only negotiable when frozen. The train was still running, the

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DDT truck sprayed this cool smoke which was fun to run through and the fresh fruit/vegetable truck came once a week ( they also sharpened knives.) Hat Herbert was the chief of police and Ed Dalton was on the force. Mrs. Jahn ran the post office and next door the Firstbrooks opened their grocery/sundry store and soda fountain each summer. The toy airplanes and soldiers were made of nothing but lead! We discovered cannon balls at the edge of the bay during an exceptionally low tide. A major storm in 1950 forced us to evacuate by rowboat. Dad and my uncle stayed behind to monitor the house. Years later they revealed that they walked to Peter Dolgers (now Used To Be’s) to weather out the storm. We sailed, crabbed, fished and enjoyed resurrecting abandoned rowboats. A special event was to travel by boat with my grandfather for lunch at Mrs. Winters luncheonette at the marina ( now part of their office.) Earl Hulse’s bait shop and rowboat rental was on the north side of the bridge. Immediate neighbors were the Bucks (Auntie Hipp, Skipper, Tom, Patti and Bill ), General and Mabel Rose, Dick and Aunt Sarah Wells, the Roeblings, the Pauls and Jim and Betty Stokes. Favorite recollection: meeting my wife to be, Betsy, at Dodds in 1966. She started waitressing at the Lobster Shanty in 1959. We came back to Mantoloking in 2001 after a 36 year hiatus and now we are home.

David Masters Olney

Developer at New Jersey Museum of Boating Restorer of Boats-of-Wood Re: Mantoloking Memories Wanted! I walked into the picture when History was already made Like a Bee getting stuck in honey, spilled on a work of Art The new-kid-on-the-block where money is lesser than the heart Where values are treasured principles, and the price of knowledge paid. New experience is a time-honored religion where Faith has stayed To keep the Bay waters safe and clear for the next generations' start Like one of twelve apostles or tribes, the Yacht club is a part Of Upper Barnegat tradition for which venerable Baymen have prayed. And when I finally Sailed in a Regatta, among peers, unafraid, Reborn from youth, I have to be keen and smart Among practiced masters of the Sailing Art Joined in the serious fun, in the shining Sun arrayed. The welcoming is not fore-granted any more than wind in sails. Our host is a lady and a gentleman whose integrity never fails. -fin-

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Kelsey Kerr Pascoe I Fourth generation in Mantoloking, descended from the Cornelius Brett Boocock family. The Scary Shark in the Bay Having never been much of a sailor (our family spent only August here each summer--always too far behind in the sailing classes to catch on), I took my first almost-solo sail in our duckboat the summer I turned twelve in 1968. I did have crew, but she was a friend from home, Summit, who had never sailed at all. I was feeling fairly confident out in the bay when I saw something strange in the water, maybe 25 feet away. It was a fin!!! And, to my eyes, very clearly a shark's fin coming right at us! Frightened out of my wits, I immediately lost control of the boat trying to turn around and nearly capsized. Then I raced into the yacht club docks to report the shark. But the word was already out. It turned out to be a wounded sunfish that was floating on its side. The shark's fin I saw was the sunfish's side fin. Several people in small boats managed to bring the giant, flat fish to shore, where it was placed on a dingy and raced down Downer Ave., across the highway and then out past the waves in the ocean. It disappeared, but didn't looked too healthy. The people of Mantoloking did their best to save that poor fish. And, I'll be honest, I haven't sailed alone since.

Kelsey Kerr Pascoe II Does anyone remember the DDT spraying they did occasionally in the 1960's? A tractor would drive slowly down the highway (and I presume the bay roads, too) spraying what I think was DDT in its wake. As kids, we would run inside the house and put pillows over our faces for as long as we could stand, inhaling the stinking residue when we finally emerged. I remember one time trying to protect a Monarch butterfly I had recently caught from the spray. A lost cause.

Connie Pilling I arrived in Mantoloking at 6 weeks of age in 1926 from Chestnut Hill, PA. So I guess I am not a native. My brothers and sisters were here to greet me while enjoying the sea breezes. I have spent every summer of my life in Manto and a great many winters. I haven't missed one! It is my Home. There are a great many memories going through my mind including, fishing, sailing, World War ll. Family and friends. My Grandparents came in 189?? so were here for WWI and WW ll. My Father was on the borough council so we weekended it here and were residents. His job was in Phila. and so were our schools. The first winters were during the WW II. Later my Mother was in the Real Estate business during the war so she had a gas card that so we could commute.

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This brings to mind a little story. The porch on the bay side where our dog Sparkie slept washed away in a storm from the southwest. Sparkie was a Springer spaniel with a long tail, like a setter. When my mother, Isabel, heard the porch collapsing, she hopped out of bed, reached out the window and grabbed Sparkie’s tail. Sparkie helped me crab, walking up and down with his tail slapping the water on each side. He would see a crab, put his front paw on it, stick his head under the water, and grab it in his mouth and shake it. Sometimes he would bring it to shore. If it was a softie, I would grab it for a meal. I married a Bay Header ( he belonged to the Mantoloking Yacht Club and was from Chestnut Hill) so we continued summering here. A month in Bay Head and a month in Mantoloking. We had 5 children, Then six grands and six greats and a few in-laws. We moved down year around 35 years ago . John is buried in the St. Simon-by-the-Sea churchyard and in the Bay and Ocean. Hopefully I will be here for a while longer enjoying the sea breezes and all that goes with it, including the nice people. Bob Post Mantoloking Memories, Or How I Came To Now Be From Mantoloking

I grew up in Bay Head. When I was a teenager during World War II, I raced my sneakbox in the BBYRA. There was no gasoline for a towboat, so we would sail down to wherever the race was going to be on Saturday on Friday afternoon. One of our parents must have had a “B” gasoline ration card to drive down and pick us up and then take us back on Saturday morning. Of course, there would be teenagers racing from the other clubs on the bay, including those from Mantoloking: Lady Lewis, Helen Ill, Frank Giammattei, Anne Lewis, Paulding Phelps, the White twins. We Bay Headers hated those so-in-so’s. Nobody from our gang in Bay Head wanted anything to do with someone from Mantoloking. That all changed 10 years later. I was an usher in my fraternity brother, George Diehl’s wedding to Helenie Carmer. As such I was invited to an engagement party at Mrs. Adrian Riker’s house (Now the Van Duyne’s). When I walked in somewhat in trepidation of being in enemy territory, I was immediately grabbed by the mother of the bride, Helena Carmer, and dragged over to meet “this nice young girl”. That girl turned out to be Jane Carpenter and as they used to say in the old romance novels, I was smitten. After we were married in 1954 we still spent quite a bit of time in Bay Head, but more and more of it was spent at Jane’s parents’ house on Ocean Avenue and when

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our kids started hanging out at the Mantoloking Yacht Club we were forced to bite the bullet and join the club. It was easier then. I asked what I had to do to join. Someone told me, “Call up Billy Clausen (the club secretary) and then send him a check.” Now, 58 years later, I think I finally have been around enough to say that I am from Mantoloking and I am proud to count Lady, Helen, Frank, Anne, Paulding and Edgar among my friends. Jane Carpenter Post The year before the Loverings bought 1320 Bay Ave., my parents rented it. (It is now the Sigety house) This was 1933, the first summer of my life. My parents, Joy and Chuck Carpenter had heard about Mantoloking from Philadelphia friends. They knew the Pennsylvania Railroad ran from Penn station, Philadelphia, stopped in Camden where my father could hop on and then travel over the Barnegat Bay on a wooden train bridge and stop at every town from Seaside to Bay Head. I think in 1943 my parents started renting the David Wesson house at 1420 Ocean Ave. Now the train was riding the track in our back yard. It shook our house going up at 6:30AM with Daddy and the mail and returned in the evening about 6:30PM, bringing Daddy and new mail. Before our teens, my brother Charlie and I spent most of our day at the beach. We had a governess who went with us and liked it as much as we did. As we moved into our teens the MYC was the place to go. There was sailing, tennis, swimming in the bay off a floating raft and a continuous game of ping-pong every day. All ages of kids sat around on the porch chairs “hanging out”. Age dictated what gang of friends you hung out with. The older gang (about 5 yrs older and twice the size) was called the Glamour Gang. We were called the Night Owls, I think because we liked getting together after dinner and playing Murder at some ones house or Savages on the beach. Savages was beach-tag and taught to us by Chris and Runnie Colie’s father. There were also plenty of board and card games but we were home by 9:30! Not very night owlish…. Movies at the Lorraine Theater in Bay Head were special and became more special when we could drive ourselves. The Bay Head and Mantoloking Yacht Clubs were not friendly. Racing in the BBYRA made the towns very competitive. I did more crewing than skippering and rode the “Club Tub” to all the yacht clubs on the bay. They were long Saturdays. My parents did not come pick me up if I did not have afternoon crew job. Along with racing one figures out the various sailing personalities of all the bay clubs. Bob Post, racing for Bay Head never had a quiet voice and we never spoke, but I knew who he was. We were introduced at an engagement party. (See Bob Post’s

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Mantoloking Memory) That was the fall 1953 and I was off to the University of Wisconsin, but Bob managed to be around most weekends and by Christmas we were engaged. Mantoloking has been around for us and our 4 children and now 9 grandchildren. It’s been our anchor in the summer no matter where we lived and now we enjoy those sunsets in our sunset years.

Marilyn and Bert Potter

We bought our home in June 1994. We got here because Bert was doing some accounting for Marylou Liedecker and she mentioned that the house next to her was for sale. She showed us the home and we purchased it.

Our memory of Mantoloking started before we moved here in 1994. In 1985 we purchased a power boat with another couple from Wayne and docked it at Winters Yacht Basin. Over the years we would sit on the stern looking at Mantoloking across the bay and thought we had the "million dollar view". It was interesting to see the sail boat races, formal parties at the yacht club, and people milling around at the Friday night dinners- it all looked like great fun. We never dreamed that we would trade in the boat for a home on the barrier island. Now we have become members of the yacht club and are doing all the activities that we watched from the back of our boat -and it is great fun! However the best part of living in Mantoloking, apart from the

e beautiful landscape in the different seasons, great sunsets and convenient access to the ocean, are the people who have welcomed us to the community and become our lifelong friends.

Barbara Johnston Rodgers My family first came to Mantoloking the summer of 1948 when my parents rented the Landenberger house on the bay. I attended St. Simon-by-the-Sea with my parents, Elinor and Bill Johnston and brothers Robert and Richard. The following year we rented a house on Goetze Street in Bay Head, and in 1951 my family built a home on Barnegat Bay, two houses north of the Mantoloking line! We continued to attend St. Simon-by-the-Sea and I was invited to join the "choir"....this meant attending a weekly rehearsal and sitting in the front row on Sundays. (Charlie Carpenter and Robert Johnston, Paulding Phelps and his sister Betsy, among others). At the end of the season we all attended a picnic on the beach hosted by the Carpenters...... Mr. Carpenter played the accordian and we all had a fine time. I have a faded snapshot with Janie Carpenter, Lily and John Bates in

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attendance. Jane and I became good friends, served as bridesmaids for each other and have enjoyed fun times together ever since! Eventually my father joined the vestry at St. Simon-by-the-Sea, and my mother enjoyed arranging flowers for the altar guild and working at the rectory to make it a nicer place for the visiting clergy. Years later, my brother Richard Johnston also joined the vestry. Robert A. Roman Mayor Emeritus, Borough of Mantoloking My family moved from Mountainside, NJ in the 1970's to become full time residents of Mantoloking. I miss the beach and the beautiful sun sets over Barnegat Bay. My most treasured memory is of people, residents of Mantoloking and surranding communities who volunteer their time for greater good of Mantoloking. Having served on the Board of Education; fire company(life member) council; Planning Board, Mayor, I was privileged to meet and work with many of the volunteers. People who are not involved in volunteer work do not appreciate the amount of time that these volunteers work saving Mantoloking money every year. Mantoloking has always been graced by having dedicated staff at Mantoloking's Borough Hall and the best professional police force on the Island. There are many other committees that work in many other areas, including the Sea Weeders who beautify Mantoloking and the Editor and staff who put in many hours each month to keep all residents up to date on the council meetings. Mantoloking will continue to be in good hands for the next one hundred years with the continued help of the dedicated volunteers . Virginia W. Sigety Mantoloking Memories from a 4th generation 40-something: Wooden Duckboats, Wooden Tennis Racquets (Chris Evert, Dunlop Maxply), "Duck, Duck, Goose" on the MYC Lawn at dusk while getting eaten by mosquitoes, Crabbing on the Club docks at night, watching my sister tickle a blowfish, "Bay Head landings", steamers & sparklers on the 4th of July at 'Blue Arches' when sand from the dunes spread across the breezeway, hide & seek in the five hedges that used to be at the end of MYC's South Field, gymnastics on the MYC lawn with Janet DeCamp, rattling counterweights in window sashes, outside showers, pick up games of soccer, baseball, or tag on the MYC lawn, the party line on our rotary phone, watching "Endless Summer" for movie night at the Club, Ping Pong in the "Old" Room, Junior Dances with BHYC, making sailors' bracelets, listening to the tinkling halyards on the masts of sailboats that dominated the MYC boat basin at night, watching men

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walk on the moon at Gigi's house because she had one of the only TVs in town (black & white with rabbit ear antennae), buying Bazooka bubble gum at the 'corner store' (now Art Harden's office & condos) for a penny a piece, card games, board games, all games that didn't require electricity, sea breezes on a hot summer night, air conditioning in the Post Office, screen porches, touching the ceiling while ringing the bell at St. Simons, the only sun tan lotions were Sea 'n Ski and Coppertone, summer birthdays, always being barefoot even while running across stone driveways, stubbed toes, hitting against the backboard, hair bleached by sun and salt, once a summer trips to the Pt. Pleasant or Seaside boardwalks, roasting marshmallows in the fireplace, finally being able to ride my bike all the way to Dorcas' for an ice cream cone, seeing "Herbie the Love Bug" at the Bay Head Movie Theatre (now Shoppers Wharf) with my sisters, the weathered wood smell of un-insulated summer beach houses, slamming screen doors, sand in my sheets, wafting music from our parents' dinner dances that lulled us to sleep, getting "boiled" in the ocean, blue sea-glass, sipping nectar from honeysuckles, eating grapes while hiding in the Lewis' grape arbor, putting on our bathing suits to splash in the warm puddles left by a sudden summer downpour, shrieking and hugging my cousin during every scary thunderstorm, hearing the crackling of the salt air on the electric wires, 'Mantoloking Angels', evacuating to Summit with my cousins in advance of what turned out to be an insignificant hurricane, Bennies go Home, flip flops, Bennie Day at the Beach, every beautiful sunset over Barnegat Bay!

Cynnie Olsen Smyth

Some of my clearest memories of Mantoloking involve our house on Runyon Lane, now owned by Locky Jones. There was a little sunroom off my parents' bedroom with big windows looking out on the bay; I loved to curl up there and read. From that spot I remember seeing some awesome thunderstorms come across the water -- wild clouds, wind, lightning -- very exciting! I remember walking home from the MYC in the bay, pulling our sneakbox -- no wind, maybe, or something broken -- and the squishy feel of the bottom, and oh, the crabs in the eelgrass! (But no stinging jellyfish.) After one really tremendous storm, the entire yard flooded (also the guestroom, which we later had raised), and there actually were fish swimming in our driveway!

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When our dog escaped the house and was hit and killed on Route 35, my husband dug a hole back in the bayberry bushes inside the fence and buried him there, thereby contracting the worst case of poison ivy and poison sumac ever recorded in Ocean County (perhaps a slight exaggeration). The blisters were so bad that he had to wear white cotton gloves to the office for a long time. Mantoloking was a great place to spend teen-year summers (later ones, too) -- and my grandkids will tell you that it still is. John Stokes Came to Mantoloking 1934 as a baby Left circa 1980 First stayed at 1513 Ocean Ave and from about 1956 moved to 1559 Ocean Ave.

In 1926 my father, Dr. Earle Stokes and mother Nion Stokes built a house at 1513 Ocean Avenue. There were no street numbers then, it was just identified as the third house south of the Breakers Hotel. I came along in 1934 and my memories started around 1937 when I spent most of these early years parked on the beach in one of those blue wool bathing suits which once wet never dried for the entire day. I just loved to watch the train go by at 7AM, 11, 3 and 7PM. Once I heard the whistle I had to stop and watch it. I could see it for a long stretch because there were no houses between Runyon Lane and Ocean Ave., except for the Barclay’s and one other by Albertson St. Three-day nor’easters were always exciting. We would remove all the screens on the ocean facing windows and close the shutters. Then my parents would contact the Carpenters, Dickies or Jacksons to set up a bridge game and played while the wind and rain howled outside. Once we were old enough to prove that we could swim and sail on our own, much time was spent in our sailboats. (Before I get off swimming my mother often reminded me that Anne Lewis had passed her swim test between the main dock and the “L” dock long before I did.) Curtis Point was all marsh and we would explore it or build forts in the reeds on Swan Point. Sometimes we would pack a lunch and sail up the creek behind racing buoy three. It is amazing that our parents never knew where we were or what we were doing until we came home for dinner. The war years were exciting for a child with the coast guard on horseback and collecting empty rifle shells from winter target practice. My sister Jane was an

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airplane spotter and every morning would ride her bike to a building at the end of Downer St. and every plane that flew overhead was identified. One other lasting memory was a warm summer evening at the Mantoloking Yacht Club dance when I really kissed a girl for the first time.

Don Tubbs

Some requested recollections when I was a kid in Mantoloking back in the 1930’s. (Transcribed from a recording by Susan Hamlin.)

The Bridge. The bridge going across the bay in those days was an old wooden bridge with some badly worn pilings supporting it; actually they hung down like stalagmites from the bridge itself many of them not reaching the bottom of the bay and many of them not even reaching the water when it was low tide. They had planks there across the bridge which created the road surface and on one occasion a grocery truck trailer went through the roadway down to the bed of the truck trailer and they off-loaded all of the contents and jacked it up and got it going, replaced the boards and the county commissioners thought they certainly ought to do something about that and they did. They made two signs about 15x18” officially condemning the bridge and put one on each end of it and that took care of the county contribution for several more years. The bridge itself was opened by a key; it was like a great big allen wrench; although one man could do it usually two bridge tenders got on the key and they’d walk around in the middle of the draw and the bridge would swing open.

I had a bugle I used to go through that drawbridge, which I’m sure irritated the bridge tenders because I could never blow the same note twice and you had to blow three times or hail the bridge three times to get the bridge to open. One day a bridge tender said that he was really looking for a bugle and he had a bike to trade if I would be interested, and I was very interested in and in serious need of a bike. And I don’t know whether a car had run over it or what but the front wheel leaned about 7 degrees one way and the back wheel another 5 or 6 degrees the other way but it was an even trade and I was delighted with the bike and I suspect the bridge tenders were delighted to retire the bugle.

During the construction of the replacement of that bridge, we used to keep a duckboat out in front of our house (now occupied by the Fette’s) on a mooring and I was working on the duckboat one day, not sailing, just on the mooring, and looked up at this rather small construction barge and it was just like you see in the movies; suddenly the roof went up and the walls of this construction shed fell out and a 55 gallon drum hurdled through the air halfway from the barge to the channel and then followed by a tremendous BOOM. And nobody was on the barge at the time, but god, I wish I’d had a movie camera to record it.

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The Railroad. Let’s see, the railroad used to go through there; a single track railroad in those days and we’d put pennies on the track to try to stretch them out. I succeeded in that only once or twice and lost a lot of pennies trying to do it. I guess they vibrated off or something, but I never retrieved the pennies in any event.

Chadwick Fisheries. Oh let’s see, there are a couple of other things there; the Chadwick Fisheries were to the south of town and they would go out through the surf and in open boats, pretty good size, and empty the nets which were off-shore a few hundred yards, rigged on poles, out in the ocean, to the ocean floor. We went down one day to go out early in the morning with them but it was so rough that day they really did not want to take any passengers. And then when the boats came in, hopefully loaded with fish, they would harness up horses to them, the horses would pull them up over the beach using spars as rollers and then they would, of course, take the fish up into the shed there along what is now Route 35, on the west side, and the flies were unbelievable; there’d be 3 dozen flies on each arm of these fisherman and they paid no attention to them at all. I thought it was just horrendous that they were going to be eaten alive but they didn’t seem to faze them one bit.

Decommissioning Mishaps. One time and I’m not sure just when this was, we used to have a lot of meetings/gatherings in the yacht club parking lot and one time at the end of the season Al Commette was decommissioning his bullseye, and he took the boom off and so forth and had the boat on a trailer and the mast was still up and he went out the driveway and headed north on Bay Avenue to great shouts from all of us in the parking lot. Fortunately, he came to a stop before he hit any overhead wires and took the mast down.

Another time, same group of people; a kid had a big car, a really big car that belonged to his father. And he was getting a boat, I think it was a Lightening, but I’m not sure, decommissioning it and he backed this trailer up behind the car and in those days the ramp at the Mantoloking Yacht Club, on the bay end, had a drop of probably two feet or so; you didn’t push the trailer off the end of that because you had a terrible job getting it back up. Well this kid had all the answers; we warned him of that situation…oh, no that will be fine. So he backed the trailer in and doggone it went off the end of the concrete ramp, dropped down and he got the boat on the trailer and with all sorts of swaggering he got in behind the wheel of the car, revved up the accelerator, spun the wheels throwing gravel all over the boat. The car shot ahead and the trailer was still attached to the car and the boat was on the trailer, but the wheels and axel were still in the bay. He had snapped them right off and a lot of us thought well it was probably about time to head home for lunch. This kid has all the answers; how he was going to correct that we just didn’t know.

The Mantoloking Health Department. A couple of other thoughts come to mind and this was later when I was mayor; we had an interesting situation where we were told by the public health department in Trenton, that they felt our town was quite small and probably did not have a sufficient staff and so forth to properly man a health department, and I asked these fellows why they thought we needed a health

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department and they thought the first priority was to control venereal disease. And I said there hadn’t been a case of venereal disease reported in Mantoloking in the last 50 years and probably longer than that. Well they wanted to come down for a meeting and meet our health department and our health department happened to be Dr. Irving Dunn and when he was a colonel in the army he wrote the book about public health and these fellows started in on this that said that we should have this book in our department because it’s the bible for public health written by Colonel Dunn and every knowledgeable health department across the United States uses as a reference book and Irving Dunn just kind of whispered to me and said something like “Let me handle this.” So he led these two fellows on and eventually saying “yea, you two approve this book?” “Oh, absolutely. There’s nothing like it.” And he really strung them along for awhile and finally said, “Now this Colonel Dunn with whom do you think you are speaking?” and they said, “You’re Dr. Dunn, you’re Colonel Dunn?” “Yea, I am.” “And you’re the author of that book?” “I am.” And with that they stood up and closed their briefcases, they blushed, stuck out their hands and said what an honor it was to meet Dr. Dunn, head of the Mantoloking Public Health Department. That was kind of a fun evening.

Mantoloking Tourism Attractions. Another time, when I was mayor, we got this letter from Trenton asking us to list the tourism attractions for Mantoloking for that summer. I wrote back and said that we really didn’t have any tourism attractions that would be of note on a state-wide basis. Well, they wrote back and said they would like to fill out their information sheets, and I ignored those and then they sent telegrams down, two telegrams, and decided they’d come down to see us. I said there’s no need for that. I said there are going to be two things that are going to happen this summer; one is the Independence Day Bike Parade when every youngster in town decorates his bike and they go down Route 35 and up Bay Avenue to the yacht club, and I said there are a few floats involved and the date for that is July 4. And the second event will be the Inaugural Flush for our newly installed sanitary sewer system and the date for that, as we speak, is unknown. And with that they decided they had had enough with Mantoloking and never bothered us again. William B. Tubbs ...first sunburn of the summer, playing until dark, catching fireflies, tie-dyeing shirts at the Islander's Surf Shop, summer solstice, salt water taffy, outdoor showers, rubber raft rash, frisbee on the lawn, snowstorms and nor’easters, ping pong in the Old Room, the bridge tender serenading Miss Seaside (the boat) on the PA system after a few cocktails, clean sheets dried on the line, rowing away from the house to catch the school bus, sailing on Bay Avenue, ice skating on Bay Avenue, babysitters & nannies, the seaplane, Thanksgiving football games (precursor to soccer games), parent/child duckboat races, parent/child tennis matches, bare feet, Birdwells, sailor's bracelets, kayak races, toy boats, bodysurfing, the sewing circle, the bat game, MYC Stickball Team, Benedict's beach fort, firehouse clambakes, the lifeguard stand, chatting in the kitchen of the crooked Barton house, buying candy at the store, the

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highway thumps (the ability to determine speed based on the intervals of thumps), the first centennial celebration, the first 4th of July parade, awards night, movie night, Greg Costa's ice cream!, "borrowing" a Bullseye for an evening sail, watching bridge traffic, drinking Seabreezes with friends on the main dock while watching the sunset, bottle rocket wars, sparklers on the 4th, Wags, Barney, Toby, Max..., Chipper, Higgy, Hutch, Coakley, Waugh..., an 18 wheel truck full of windsurfers for my brothers and friends, walking on water, skateboarding, riding unicycle, rollerblading, catching blowfish, Morris's porch and deck, the Club Tub, beating Gary Jobson in a night race, going to work by boat, winter solstice, judging the parade!, The Roll Tide General Store, a long, long, long cast of characters - many I look up to, and so many who are watching over me (and Mantoloking) now. That's a start... Jimmy Vaeth Since I was born, I have been coming to Manto every summer. The gathering of friends and family in Mantoloking every summer is a special treat and one of my favorite things I look forward to every year. I have/will always enjoy sitting on the beach Saturday afternoons with everyone from the town. Peggy Vreeland My husband Don and I rented via Mrs. Earle in Mantoloking in 1954, Bay Head in 1955, and bought 1211 Ocean Ave in 1956. We had several friends in Mantoloking and made many more. Our four children – Karolyn, Dougie, Tricia and Garry – as well and Don and I loved it from the start. In fact our two youngest came home from the hospital to 1211. Don had various small power boats and the kids had a duckboat. MYC was the focal point for them, sailing and tennis, and I liked having them come home for lunch. A house on the beach near the lifeguards was wonderful – easy to get to, fantastic lifeguards (Steve Gillingham and Dennis Commette) gave we mothers a great time sitting in “murders’ row”. Don and I had so many happy times partying on weekends and sailing with friends. It was a perfect place for us, and a great place to bring up kids. The occasional hurricanes and bad nor’easters happened and once in a while a shark would appear, but nothing spoiled Manto. Both Dougie and Garry gave their brides-to-be their engagement rings on our dune. Dougie was married at St Simons and two granddaughters w baptized there. Don and Dougie’s ashes are buried there in the Garden of Remembrance.

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We all loved the ocean and the beach, and spent many happy hours on our dune. 1211 was a terrific party house, and from 1956-1991 we were there every summer with a house full of people. Most of the kids in Manto were there to watch Neil Armstrong step on the moon on our old TV. We had an annual July 4 parties, clean out the fridge parties and family Thanksgiving. All in all it was the happiest time of our lives. Garry and his family have a house in Bay Head, so I can visit every summer. I love it. Bill Watson Growing Up On South Beach My name is Bill Watson. 1940 began my first of seven decades in Mantoloking when I was 11, my sister Nancy 9. For nine summers our parents Chet and Geegee rented the house at Chafey and East opposite the middle of a 500 ft. stretch of then empty dunes north of South Beach, always fun except when the sky darkened, a red flag was up, or the sea was off limits for an hour after lunch. Playing with friends easily met on the beach, we body surfed, rode waves with our knees on firmly inflated rubber mats, and dashed over and around dunes, at times as heroes with flowing towel capes. Baseball for two was simple, taking turns pitching or at bat, certain that stray balls won’t wander in the sand. When wind upset shuttlecocks we kept the court as-is and followed badminton rules for doubles and singles without racquets. Instead an Abercrombie & Fitch rubber deck-tennis ring was served by hand over the net, never released above the shoulder, and returned in one motion from where it was caught. Tiring of daily re-erecting the net on the beech, the game shifted to our pebbled backyard. Amazing how young feet adapt. During the hour after lunch or on rainy days we gathered in our living room, perhaps turned upside down with sheets into a Bedouin camp, or to play Monopoly, other board or card games, always listening for the Good Humor man. Names that come quickly to mind include Bradley Middlebrook and Heather Hetherington who lived just south of the beach across from Cappy Pope, Jerry and Mary O’Connor and Jack Whitehead while those from the Lagoon area included C. V. Hill, Bud Royal, Bruce, Rod and Don Edwards from Dale’s Point and John and Gordon Beattie whose family put on the most elegant beach party I’ve ever attended with a huge bonfire and uniformed servants that summer. My family had no boat but I wended about with Jim King in his clinker-built early 1930’s skiff with new inboard engine and learned to sail in his old sneakbox and BHYC races. We had the lightest crew yet were near the last to finish. In 1944 the Kings rented the house in Bay Head by the North Lagoon’s entrance, a quick run

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away from the clubhouse. With little to lose, Jim’s boat was hauled out of the water and dry upon re-launch for the starting line when the first gun was fired. We remained close to the windward stern of Rod Edward’s boat, the usual winner, taking his wind at the start. Any lead soon evaporated and my hopeless bailing began before reaching the Metedeconk. When the BHYC finish line came into view we were awash in water and floorboards. Lack of sailing savvy also showed later that year when darkness and calm arrived together as we returned from the Metedeconk. With no other boats about we walked and paddled to Herring Island and the nearest house on Barnegat Lane. We entered wearing some of the bay’s bottom, calling home for help with some embarrassment but no hesitation. In late teens South Beach friends returned to Herring Island at night in an armada of boats to party. Many romances survive from those days. Edgar White It was about 1940. Weather prediction was still not very reliable or believed in. The Beach was a lot wider than it is now and the dunes in front of the houses were usually kept low enough so as to not obstruct the view of the ocean. Even earlier there had been a boardwalk for strollers, but most of this had degenerated and there was a long beachfront from the tide line to the head of the street ends that allowed access to the beach. The bathing beach was placed close to a street end on what was considered the widest beach. Buoyed ropes marked the designated swim area and a rowing catamaran, pontoons with seat and oars, was on the sand for rescue of swimmers if necessary. I can not remember that storms were designated hurricanes and notable storms were called the "Storm of '39", for instance or whatever, after the fact, because they were not predicted with any accuracy. It was one of these storms, after Labor Day when most schools were back in session, but we were still enjoying the end of the summer because our private school was not yet in session. The waves were building and breaking, regularly farther out. Each sequence of waves seemed to end with an increasingly larger one as waves do regularly. My brother and I decided to walk the beach and enjoy the sight. As we came to Princeton Avenue beach end a truly magnificent wave was building and we knew enough to head for higher ground. The wave seemed to loom ever larger, finally hitting the beach and washing across it, floating the catamaran and sweeping it up the beach. By instinct we jumped aboard and rode it down the street end until it grounded on the main road, Route 35. Fortunately there were no cars to be seen but it was time to seek safer ground and ride out the storm.

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Ellie White I married into what had been the teen age “glamour gang” in 1953. With my roommate Daphne White from New York and George Diehl, we were the outies. It took a while for us to be accepted, and then the fun began. Most of us stayed with our parents at that time. We watched our children on the bathing beach in front of a long line of grandmothers in the black and navy blue bathing suits. On Sundays we walked the kids home for lunch at noon, put their shoes on, and drank martinis on the deck before (served) lunch. Naps followed. Our husbands all took the last weekend of August for vacation. We bet on the races at Freehold, went on down Bay dinner cruises, midnight skinny dipping on the Pennywitts beach etc., etc. Trips to the amusement part at Seaside. Not to mention Governors cocktail parties, MYC dinner dances, and aerobic classes conducted by Annie Goble on the then new outdoor dance floor. The Good Old Days! A prime memory was when Amos Peaslee who was at the time Ambassador to Australia under Nixon, invited the “young lovelies” to BHYC for dinner to entertain the visiting Australian tennis team, while their commuter husbands were back at home. Almost all the girls got to go. More good old days! Christine C Wilder In the early 1930s, my parents rented or visited 1049 Ocean Avenue, a house close to the road with three ocean front houses behind it. Dunes with bayberry, grasses, beach plums, poison ivy, rosa regosa grew as far as one could see to the north and to the south. The only people using the beach lived in those four houses and didn't necessarily abide by the clothing rules of that time. Henry Bayard Clark, my father, enjoyed the ocean and floated on a big, black truck inner tube. He frequently gave my brother and me rides. But mostly, he relaxed on the water and sometimes fell asleep. The wind was mostly southeast. One beautiful-weekend day after a very hectic work week, he rode on his inner tube and floated north, and was soon sound asleep. He awakened to loud screaming "Henry, Henry. Go back. Go back." He was at Harry and Marge Brown's beach in Bay Head. Many friends were sunning and relaxing on the beach and enjoying a cocktail. But, oh my, Henry was naked from the waist up! Men did NOT go topless and he caused quite a scene. Someone gave my father a towel and Harry phoned my mother to bring him a bathing top and join the "party." C.C.Carpenter Wilson War Summer Memories of 1943 The German submarines lurked just off our shore, sinking precious shipping and tarring our beaches. We had to use lots of Energine to clean our feet before reentering our cottage. Every window in Mantoloking wore a dark shade at night. The few cars out after dark crept along with headlights hooded – subject to Coast Guard search.

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My continuing pleasure was to take Bias, our brown standard poodle, out in the rowboat on Barnegat Bay. Everyone on the water had to carry a Coast Guard identification card to show that he or she was a true American. It was rumored that English speaking crew members from a German submarine had occasionally come ashore and bought supplies. Bias sat in the stern of the boat with me staring up at the blimps from Lakehurst slowly circling overhead searching for submarines. He seemed as interested in the maneuvers as I was and he was never reluctant to go in the rowboat. Late that summer we had a knock on the door. There stood a young Coast Guardsman distraught and holding his hat in his hands. He said that his jeep had just hit our large dark dog in the low light of the blackout. Bias was still alive and we loaded him into our car. On the way to the vets our well-loved dog raised his paw for a farewell shake and quietly passed away Jon Younghans A few highlights of the past 50 years.. 1961-2011 I've spent at least part of every summer of my life in Mantoloking. 50 years this summer! I guess I should clarify this: the Mantoloking that I knew growing up was North of the bridge! I don't think I ventured south of the Bridge until I was 9. We rented houses on North and South Lagoon and Barnegat Lane. For me the town is all about the people. Manto is about generations. Growing up it was all about hanging with your friends but also knowing their siblings, parents, grandparents and other extended family members. Never ringing a doorbell, but walking into any friends house with a big hello! To this day some of my best friends are both the folks I grew up with summers in Mantoloking and newer friends from "the beach" When we were kids and for me to this day, when I head to Manto I'm going to the beach......not the shore What did we do.. Crabbing for hours on the lagoons... you could go house to house along the bulkheads on both sides of the lagoon. There were no swimming pools so there were no fences! The Corbin's may have had the first pool in our area. That was 40 years ago! Once, as 10 year olds, we caught a big bucket of crabs and planned to sell them to Frazee's fish market. Not sure what happened, it may have been after Labor day and we went home for school only to return several days later to have my parents discover a smelly rotten buckets of crabs in the garage..so another lesson in responsibility... ... Seining in North Lagoon...the beach at this lagoon spanned the entire width of the lagoon (not 25% of that area like it is now.) The stuff we caught in that lagoon was amazing....still can be. When the ocean was rough (and George closed South Beach to swimmers) this little beach was packed with kids. The

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"ropes" at South Beach. As a kid you could work your way out the ropes through rough water to catch the big one in to shore. The Hankins lifeguard boat , body surfing skim boarding. South Beach as a really private beach. One did not dare set foot on what is now the public access with out the wrath of George. The huge sign that spanned that access saying "private beach" helped. There was another sign at the intersection of North and South Lagoons and Channel Lane. It was white with black lines and letters that had three arrows pointing toward the three streets reading "private keep out. " Rowing over to Herring Island and camping out. Swimming over to Herring Island and getting in trouble, water skiing at dawn before anyone had heard of red stinging jellyfish is Barnegat bay. Sailing in little boat and big boats. racing sailboats, the windsurfing phase had a great run. We built a sailboard rack and our friends on the ocean side sailed off our dock. Boat trips to Island Beach state park as a kid and later as an adult with my own kids. Boating as a way you get around town, to friends houses, to yacht clubs to islands, to anchor, to the bakery or hardware store in Bay Head. Bikes, was there any other way to get around on land? ... all the way from childhood through today. Rides to Dorcas turned into rides to the Ark or the Bluffs and now back to rides with the kids to Dorcas. Mantoloking (both sides of the bridge) will always be a special place for me. The big sky, awesome sunsets, the Barnegat bay and Atlantic ocean with all they have to offer just a couple hundred yards apart and the people who make it such a comfortable place to be. May the next 100 years be as great as the last.