Remember the Kellys

Remember the Kellys 

JIM MCCALLISTER:

John B. Kelly, Jr. actually started on the Beach Patrol late in 1942, but he rode in the races in 1943 and won them. This was my first year and Kelly’s first year.

Joe Regan was a weight lifter before most people knew what weights were all about so hehad a magnificent body, and of course Kelly had been rowing since he was 6 years old so he was full of muscles. And the two of them used to pose for the girls and they worked together on the Beach Patrol. (See: Senior Studio Pictures)

John B. Jr. rowed with Sims Dran and won in ’43, then he rowed with Joe Regan in ’44 and won, and then had to go in the Navy and Joe Regan rowed in ’45 with George Weisberg and won. And also in ’46 and won. So that’s how Joe Regan got the 3 years and got the John B. Kelly Perpetual Trophy.

BILL ASHEAD:

I was a lifeguard with Jim about the same number of years that he was, I can remember when I took my test. John B. Kelly Jr. was the fellow who took myself and another fellow who were rookies or attempting to become rookies, out for our boat test. And of course John B. Jr. was a skilled oarsman at that time since his father had him on the Schuylkill since he was about 6. So, I can remember him saying to me, pull to the port, pull to the starboard, and of course I had no idea what he was talking about. And the waves were breaking over the bow, and all we had was a lot of water and the boat kept getting heavier and heavier, and I thought I would never make it. never get around the flag and never come in. And of course in those days you were timed in your test for swimming and timed in your test for boating and rescues and so forth. That was my first encounter with John B. Jr.

And one year I had the distinction of working maybe for about 3 weeks in the early part of the season at 26^th Street, and of course the Kelly family had a beautiful, beautiful home which still remains up on the bay side of 26^th and Wesley, and John B. Senior built it because he was a renowned contractor in Philadelphia. And in those day, there were hardly any homes in Ocean City past 26^th Street, and the only reason we had a lifeguard station, or patrol (there were two of us), was because Kelly insisted on having a lifeguard. And they were very nice, the family was great to the lifeguards. 

They’d bring us – Grace, who later on became Princess Grace of Monaco – she’d bring us down sandwiches and milk and sodas and anything else we wanted at the time. Who knew that she’d become famous and who knew that John B. Kelly would become that famous and so forth. Grace was probably about 16 at the time. 15 or 16.

So the Kelly family I’ve gotten to know myself personally along with Jim McCallister over the years, and we have nothing but fond memories of our association with the family. John B. Kelly, Sr. was a little aloof but that’s natural ‘cause he didn’t know us that well. But he taught his son everything he knew about rowing and of course he went over to the Diamond Skulls, the Henley and he won those and he just got nosed out in the Olympics. This is John B. Kelly, Jr., the fellow who died 2 years ago, which is still a mystery to most of us who knew him ‘cause he was in fantastic shape. Course, Lizanne and her husband still live in Ocean City, that’s Lizanne Levine and Peggy, the oldest daughter and oldest child. She was married to a good friend of mine, fellow named Gene Conlan, and Gene died the same day that John B. Kelly, Jr. died. The most bizarre thing that’s ever happened to me that I can remember is a friend of mine called me on the phone and said Jack Kelly just died. He called me an hour and half later and said Gene Conlan, who was married to Jack’s sister Peggy – they were divorced – also died the same day. She still carries the name Peggy Coonlan. She lives up near the Fairmount section in Philadelphia and I chat with her maybe once or twice a year. She’s a great gal, too.

Jack lived at a place called the Plaza. It’s changed it’s name now but it’s at 19^th or 18^th and the Parkway across from what is now the Four Seasons Hotel. And he had a penthouse up on the top floor and also Peggy Conlan’s husband, after they were divorced, Gene Conlan, he had an apartment up on the top floor, cause Gene and Jack Kelly, Jr. remained good friends.

Kelly loved to row even in his later days when he was in the late ‘50s, he would row against his son. I think they called him J.B. His son would I guess be in the early or mid-20s, maybe 25 or 26. I’m guessing. He was a tremendous competitor, John B. Jr. and he never liked to get beat. And when his son beat him, he didn’t really like that at all. And they would row many, many times on the Schuylkill, and I believe that on the day that he died, he had rowed on the Schuylkill, and of course that wasn’t good enough for him. He wanted to keep in good physical condition, and he jogged, apparently from Boathouse Row was starting to jog back to his apartment, and I guess it was just too much for him. I believe that’s where they found him, the police. I don’t know if he ever had a problem with his heart, no one seems to know that. His son was not with him at the time.

John B. Kelly, Sr. favored  his son, primarily because he’d programed him to become an Olympic and Diamond Skulls champion, which he had not been allowed to do and was prevented from doing because they said that he had been working with his hands and he was a professional. And he vowed that he was going to have an offspring of his come back someday, which he did. And John B. Kelly, Jr. did win it. Over on the Thames in England in 1948, I believe.

This was what they called the Henley Regatta, or Diamond Skull. These were shells, racing boats, like on the Schuylkill.

Kelly, Jr. of course rode for Penn Charter when all the interacademic schools and the Catholic schools had crews.

I’m not sure that Mr. Kelly, Sr. favored on daughter over another. I think that was brought out in the excerpts about Grace, that he didn’t really give her much of a boost. Now I’m not as close as some other people who are not lifeguards who could discuss this, but I don’t know that he disfavored any daughter. I just think his whole heart was set on young John.

And Grace, to my recollection, boosted herself. I remember the first movie she made. I think it was Steps or something of that sort. Grace was very, very, very pretty girl. Matter of fact, the whole Kelly family were very handsome. They had distinct Kelly features, high cheekbones, very strong jaw.

But Grace was a bit feminine in her features. Even throughout her early years in theater, she would come back and visit Ocean City. I can remember talking to her, and she was a plain, down to earth girl, same as anybody else you’d see on the beach. If you talk to the people that I knew who knew her, you have nothing but nice, kind and good words to say about the family and about her too.

Matter of fact, Peggy, the oldest daughter of the Kellys, would visit Grace out in Hollywood quite a few times, and Peggy at that time was divorced so Grace would get her lined up with some rather prominent movie star dates. And Peggy loves to tell you about that. But I wouldn’t infringe on that at this time. I don’t have a memory of Grace that was negative, it was all positive.

And Jack too, But as we say, Jack was never real close with the lifeguards as much as we were. There were about 15 of us, because he was always training for the boat races here or more importantly, the Henley Regatta and the Olympics. I believe he won the Henley in 1946. I may be wrong. There were Olympics over in England in 1948, and I believe Jack was beaten by a Frenchman in the Olympics, but he won the Henley. He might have won the Henley several years. He was a fantastic athlete – played football, boxed in the Navy, played football at Penn Charter, played baseball, basketball and of course, rowing.

They owned a beatutiful home, in East Flass up on Henry Avenue. That was the partents and that’s where the Kelly family – they liked to refer to themselves as the Kelly Clan – grew up. And John B. Jr. went to Penn Charter and Grace went to Stevens with Jim McCallister’s wife. It was a private girls high school, sort of a prep school. It was a renowned school.

CAROL MCALLISTER:

Grace and I went to Stevens School, which was an interacademic school in the Philadelphia area. And we were neighbors – she lived five doors from me on Henry Avenue. And Grace was a very pretty girl, and a beautiful runner, if you can be a beautiful runner. She was a graceful person, and a beautiful dance. I could never understand why Hollywood didn’t play up her dancing, because she was in a modern dance group at school and she was a beautiful dancer and I never saw her dance anywhere except there.

I remember she played hockey and we all had to play every sport, so whether she was on the basketball team…we did not have swimming. She was four years older than me. 

Ocean City's Riverboat Club - The Early Days

FORMATION OF THE RIVERBOAT CLUB 

By Jack Dean

The Lincoln Hotel - 9th Street Ocean City - Early Home of the Riverboat Club 

Over the years, I have been asked on numerous occasions to write a history of the Riverboat Club. As one of the surviving founders and the last of the original Trustees, I feel that the time has come for me to take pen in hand and record some of the things that probably only I can remember – So here goes.

Back in the late nineteen fifties, a group of local businessmen would meet every day, Monday through Friday, at Morrison’s Restaurant on 8^th Street for lunch. The exception as on Wednesday, when 95% of the group went to Kiwanis luncheon. For the want of a group name, we chose the name “Sunshine Club.” There could be many stories told as to why we chose this name but the truth was because we met during the day when the sun was out.

The “Spark Plugs” for getting the group together every day were Bill Anderson, Bob Druck, Henry Roeser, Herm Selvagn and Jack Dean. Most of the affairs, lunches, trips and etc. were put together by this group. Much to our surprise and pleasure, Irma Morrison, the owner of the restaurant, made chair back covers with our names on them and closed the side dining room to other customers at the lunch hour. This made us feel very exclusive and envied by many to the point that they wanted to join our lunch group.

As I stated, this group met Monday through Friday and only two of the group Bob Druck and Jack Dean, had to work on Saturdays so we went from restaurant to restaurant on Saturday by ourselves.

One day, Bob Druck said “You know Jack, both you and I like to cook o why do’t we take truns cooking on Saturdays in the apartment over my garage;” because we both considered ourselves “Gourmet Chefs”, we took up the challenge. One by one the other guys found out about our Saturday feast (we always blamed Herm Salvagn) and invited themselves. It got to the point where we had 15 to 20 people every Saturday. Bob and I decided that we didn’t not like cooking that much, so we started eating at different restaurants in the city, at the Point and in Atlantic City.

One day when Bill, Bob and I were over at Ev Copes, the conversation came up about forming a Saturday Social Club (that was in the early nineteen sixties). Bob told us that his apartment was rented and that we would have find other quarters. Ev Cope suggested that he had a couple of his rooms that he was going to convert into a club room for his Lincoln Hotel guests but that he decided against it and would make them available to us for a small rental fee.

After inspecting the rooms and recognizing the potential, we agreed to rent the rooms for our new venture.

Our next problem was a name for the new club and believe me, there were many names suggested and all turned down because we had to keep the name respectable for the tone of Ocean City – after all, we were talking about a social club that would have booze on the premises.

Ev had many pictures of riverboats and statues that were conducive to the atmosphere of New Orleans and somebody, I believe it was Bill Anderson suggested the name Riverboat Club, certainly a name be-fitting a social club plus we could take advantage of Ev’s pictures for decorations of the rooms that we were going to rent. Again, we all agreed but now the work was to begin because we had just given birth to the “Riverboat Club”.

Bill and Bob said that they would furnish the money, Ev said he would furnish the rooms an I agreed to do all the work. Our next task was to decide who we wanted as members. We wanted to keep this a clique of men that like and enjoyed fun and fellowship. We decided on twenty five men, including ourselves, and closed the membership.

The twenty five men elected Bill Anderson, Bob Druck and Jack Dean as the Trustees to run the club. It became the responsibility of Ev, Cope and Jack Dean to put together the By-Laws and get our attorney to incorporate our new club. One night, over a bottle of Scotch, Ev and I copied the By-Laws, with a few changes, from an old club corporation that Ev had belonged to years ago.

The Trustees next assignment was to pick a Commodore, Yoeman and Purser – that’s real nautical talk, but to you land-lubbers, that means President, Secretary and Treasurer, after all, with a name like Riverboat, we had to act the part. We decided Herm Selvagn as Commodore, mainly because he was always talking when someone else was speaking so se decided that he might as well do the talking. Scott Willis was picked as the Purser/Yoema, after all, he sat around all day at the Housing Authority doing nothing, and he had a secretary. I might add, both lived up to our expectations.

Finally, Jack Dean was named Steward and Chairman of the House Committee. This meant I could officially do all the work.

Every Saturday for several years, we had 20 to 30 people for lunch. 5 did all the cooking (with the help of Marie) and the small fee the members paid for lunch and refreshments, went into the treasury and believe it or not after a few years we had $10,000 in the treasury.

This amount of money came in real handy a few years later when we decided to buy a club house. I should mention, that once in awhile some of the members wanted to try their hand at cooking and they did a great job – food was good and the mess they left in the galley was equally a great job. Also, we had some real fun parties several times throughout the year – every holiday and particularly everyone’s birthday or any other excuse that we could think of.

We finally, through persuasion of the members, raised the membership to 50  then 75 then 100 and even higher, there were a lot of local residents that wanted to belong to a social club; as a matter of fact, we had a large waiting list. This meant that the club rooms were bursting at the seams so Ev Cope rented us two more rooms that were adjoining and this extra space allowed for more fellowship. After a couple of years, we tok into membership, a stately gentleman named Wilber Hopkins; Wilber was a refined individual of impeccable reputation and we felt that because we were a bottle club in “Dry Ocean City”, the constabularly would never arresta a good old fellow like Wilber, so we made him the Commodore – a position that he was returned to for many years – it earned him the distinction of being named “Commodore Emeritus”. This turned out to be a good appointment for the club because in his retirement status, he was at the club every day and made sure that the premises were kept ship-shape.

About this same time, we felt that Scott had loused up the records as much as possible (only kidding) “Col.” Herb Blizzard was appointed Purser and this was a good decision. Her was a meticulous “Bird Colonel” and in no time he had the records standing at attention and the rest of us on KP duty. Truly, he was a great man and a very dear friend that I miss deeply. The only position that did not change, was Steward and I kept the job for 15 years and proudly admit that I only missed on Saturday in all those years.

The cub continued to grow, prosper and enjoy the fellowship for many years. Then in 1969 Ev. Cope informed us that he had sold the Lincoln Hotel but the new owners wanted us to stay.

We knew that eventually things would change so we formed a committee to look for new quarters. We inspected many buildings and found only two that pleased us; one building was the Wheaton property on the bay. Many of us felt that we could swing it, the Wheaton house would make an ideal Riverboat Club, all the atmosphere we could ask for, so – we approached Mr. Wheaton and struck a tentative deal – we returned to the club to discuss how we could manage the purchase.

Unfortunately, at this time, my two colleagues and Trustees decided that the club should not continue with this kind of obligation so they resigned from the Board of Trustees. Frankly, I was crushed – all those years or work and fellowship going down the drain. Some very active members, El. Bretz, Clark Vernon and Herb Blizzard asked me to continue with the goals that we had established for the Riverboat Club.

As the remaining Trustee, I appointed a new Board of Trustees and as Chairman, I appointed El. Bretz to continue the search for new quarters. Needless to say, he took the bull by the horns and found our present home at 8^th and Wesley. Here again, a problem developed. Some of the board members were concerned about paying for our obligations and it came down to a tie breaking vote – I voted in favor and the birth of a new Riverboat Club.

The unselfish time devoted by El Bretz and Herb Blizzard can never be justly rewarded. El, almost single handed, arranged to have the club refurbished and Herb set all kinds of records by selling Bonds to the members to help pay for the new club.

Because I was on the road from Money to Friday, Gil Lundgren stepped forth and took over the house chores and if that was not enough, he became the club Yoeman, a very thankless job.

The club certainly owe these men a debt of gratitude. Fortunately, I could retain the Steward job (chief cook & bottle washer) and all week while I was on the road I would plan menus and hten cook them on Saturday. I am sure that many of you remember the good times that we had at my home on Bay Avenue – the Bar-B-Ques and sail-a-ways.

As they use to say on that TV show – there are a hundred stories that I could tell but there are a few – in 1976, I was transferred to California so I am sure that somebody else can fill in from then to now.

My original thought was to jot down a few memories but it turned out to be an epistle and some what of an auto-biography so lets make it one more thing – a Memorial dedicated to:

Bill Anderson, Bob Druck, Ev. Cope – without their cooperation, there would not have been a Riverboat Club ---and to: El. Bretz, Clark Vernon, Herb Blizzard, Gil Lundgren and Herb Godfrey because without their help, there would not have been a New Rivertboat Club.

P.S. – I MISS ALL OF YOU – Jack Dean.

An Idyllic Moment - Gone Bad - 9th Street Beach OCNJ - 1970s

An Idyllic Moment - Gone Bad - 9th Street Beach - Sometime in the 1970s 

As seen from the Ocean City boardwalk, the 9^th street beach seemed an idyllic scene that mid-week spring afternoon a few weeks before Memorial Day sometime in the 1970s.

Midway between the Music Pier and the jetty, a small group of young Amish girls stood at the water’s edge, their hair in tight buns under bonnets, their long brown ankle length dresses pulled up as the succeeding waves lapped at their bare feet, their shoes in their hands. 

A few yards away two teenage girls in bikinis turned over on their blankets, one fiddled with a transistor radio while the other looked at the Amish girls wading in the water as one kicked some water on another and they all laughed.

Another let her toes sink into the soft sand as another little wave lapped at their feet.

There was no one else on the beach, other than a surfer in a black wetsuit walking towards the surfer’s beach a few blocks away. The lifeguard stand was pulled back by the boardwalk; the lifeguards weren’t on duty until the weekend. A fisherman cast his line into the water at the end of the jetty.

A few dozen people walked casually along the boardwalk. A bicycle went by.

The sun was high and bright, and a low mist settled onto the scene that seemed to be out of a Monet painting, but the moment ended suddenly and unexpectedly.

A large wave came crashing down, it’s waters splashing the Amish girls, who screamed and ran a few feet in front of the incoming tide as the girls on the blanket got up and pulled their blanket back to keep it from getting wet. They all got away and fell to the sand laughing, except for one, the one with her foot firmly planted in the mud, her skirt soaking wet, she knelt down in the knee deep water. A younger Amish girl stopped running away and ran back to her, pulling her arm, helping to free her foot from the sand when another big wave came crashing down on both of them.

In a second they were sucked out in the rip tide as the wave crashed on the beach between them and the other girls.

From the boardwalk, a man who had been watching from the rail yelled to a policeman who came running down the boardwalk, and they both ran down the steps to the beach, but the two girls were now floating apart from each other about thirty yards out, so they ran onto the jetty where a fisherman had extended his pole to the girl furthest out and she was trying to reach for it.

On the boardwalk, a young grill boy at a lunch counter saw the whole thing, called 911 on the telephone and reported trouble at the 9th street beach, and then took off his apron and jumped over the counter, running across the boardwalk and down the steps, diving into the water as another wave broke in.

Another man entered the water and as he assisted the younger girl closest to the beach, the grill boy swam out towards the other girl, her arms flailing, screaming for help as the tide took her out towards the end of the jetty where the cop and the fisherman were stretching out to reach her. 

As the one girl was being helped out of the water by the girls in the bikinis, who wrapped their blanket around her, the grill boy reached the other girl at the end of the jetty and pushed her towards the rocks and into the arms of the policeman, who was in turn being held by the fisherman. She fell unconscious as they pulled her onto the slippery, slimy black rocks. An ambulance medical crew with a stretcher were making their way down the jetty.

The fisherman laid on his back on the jetty, staring for a moment into the sun until the policeman stood over him and held out his hand and hauled him up, and once standing, shook his hand firmly and said, “Thank you.”

Then someone missed the grill boy and asked where he was, and the policeman and fisherman looked around the now crowded jetty and then into the waters around the jetty, but no grill boy.

No one had seen him go under, but no one had seen him since he pushed the girl onto the jetty.

He was missing. And remained missing until the next morning when his body washed ashore on a beach a few blocks away and found by surfers.

For the next few days the same group of Amish girls who were on the beach could be found standing outside the emergency room of the hospital, waiting in a quite vigil for their sister to be released, and when she was, they all stood outside the funeral home where they had come to pay their respects to the young grill boy, the hero who gave his life to save one of theirs, when that idyllic moment on 9th street beach went suddenly and tragically wrong.

[BK Notes: This is a true story and that’s how I remember it. If I can determine when this happened, even what year, I hope to look up the newspaper clips to get the name of those involved and revise the story more accurately as to how it actually happened.]

Frank Manco RIP

MANCO, FRANK N. 81 - of Ocean City, passed away on Saturday, March 2, 2013 at AtlantiCare Regional Medical Center in Atlantic City. Born in Trenton, NJ, he was formerly of Hamilton Square, NJ and a resident of Ocean City, NJ for 35 years. Mr. Manco was a Veteran of the Korean Conflict serving with the United States Marine Corp. before his honorable discharge. He was the founder and president of Manco and Manco Pizza for 57 years before his retirement. Mr. Manco served as President of Unico at the National Level, President of Father Club Villa Victoria Academy, West Trenton, NJ and had served on the Board for the Ocean City Pops. He was a former member of the Ocean City Exchange Club, a member of the Ocean City Chamber of Commerce, the Lions Club in Trenton, NJ and was a Fourth Degree Knight of Columbus with Hamilton Counsel #6213. A first class man in many ways, he was always willing to lend a hand. He helped and contributed too many charitable organizations throughout the years. A gentleman's gentleman, avid dancer and saxophone player, always the life of the party and an expert mixologist. A heart loving husband and father, surviving are his wife, Kay M. Manco (nee Varra) of Ocean City, NJ, a daughter Mary C. Bangle and her husband Chuck of Somers Point, NJ, a granddaughter, Caitlin Bangle of Tabernacle, NJ, sister in law, Carmella Gervasio and her husband Anthony, brother in law Nick Ballone and numerous nieces and nephews. A Mass of Christian Burial will be offered Thursday at 12 o'clock noon from St. Augustine's RC Church of St. Damien Parish, 13th Street at Wesley Avenue, Ocean City, NJ where friends may call from nine o'clock until 11:45 AM. Entombment will be private. The family suggests those who desire send memorial contributions to either St. Damien's Parish, Ocean City, NJ 08226 or the Ocean City Pops, PO Box 931, Ocean City, NJ 08226. To leave a condolence for the family, please visit www.godfreyfuneralhome.com

Published in The Press of Atlantic City from March 5 to March 6, 2013

Ron Taht on the Sale of Schilling's Theaters

Ron Taht on the Sale of Schilling's Theaters 

In an earlier blog post I wrote about Mrs. Schilling and how much she detested the Franks and swore never to sell her theaters to them. 

Ocean City Days: Mrs. Helen Shriver Schilling & the Trashing of Old Ocean City

 In this blog post, shortly before he died, Mrs. Schilling's lawyer Ron Taht explains how they put the theaters up for sale, but didn't advertise them so outside bidders could have a chance to buy them. Instead they took bids from unknown bidders, but suspected they were from the Franks, who used straw bidders and didn't show up personally at the closing. In addition the real estate agents and title company were sworn to secrecy so that the Franks could clandestinely buy the boardwalk theaters that Mrs. Schilling swore she would never sell to them. In the end, Ron Taht says that Mrs. Schilling wasn't fooled and took the money anyway. 

They should have advertised the sale of the buildings and sold them overtly to someone who would have maintained them as theaters, as Mrs. Schilling wanted. 

http://ronsravings.blogspot.com/2012/02/setting-record-straight-on-sale-of.html

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 2012

Setting the record straight on the sale of the Ocean City Theaters

Over on the Ocean City Days blog, Bill Kelly has got some history wrong...

The Ocean City theaters - the Strand and the Moorlyn, were wonderful theaters in their time - luxurious seats, big screens, and - at the Strand - a stage that could be used for other purposes, and was – for many years. The Moorlyn had a dance hall on the second floor which was popular during the 20s and 30s. The Strand had one of the first air conditioners installed in any building. Ocean water was pumped into copper piping above the theater and air was then blown over it. This system actually worked up until the time the theaters were sold.

My clients, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Schilling owned them, and were fiercely proud of them. They lent an air of culture and sophistication to their beloved boardwalk. Remember that this was a time when Men wore jackets in the evening when strolling on the boardwalk and men without a shirt on could be arrested.

Nearly all the other theaters in the southern New Jersey area were controlled by members of the Frank family. I don’t know what happened but the Schillings held a deep dislike for the Franks. Everyone including the Franks knew this.

The Schillings and their tenant, Arthur Oeschlager, successfully operated the theatres for many years and were able to keep them in their original size and grandeur.

After her husband and Arthur passed away, Mrs. Schilling struggled to find a new tenant.

Ultimately she rented the theaters for a fraction of the rent that she could have received had she converted the theaters to other uses. Sadly, running those theaters only during the summer gave the new tenant no clout with the distributors and he was relegated to second run and B movies. He struggled for several years but was finally forced to pack it in. He couldn't even pay his last years rent.

Mrs. Schilling was no longer up to wrestling with a problem of this magnitude and authorized her right hand, Florence Mathews, and me to find a buyer. Instead of listing the properties we simply let it be known that the properties were for sale... Offers poured in from people and companies we had never heard of! The bidding reached $3 MILLION DOLLARS! Mrs. Mathews took this offer to Mrs. Schilling with the warning that the Franks might be the buyer. Mrs. Mathews advised me that Mrs. Schilling replied “for $3 million dollars I would sell those old theatres to the devil.” I think she thought she was.

Everyone involved in the deal had been sworn to secrecy. Neither the realtor, Mike Monahan nor Title Company of Jersey’s Mike Dowling, would confirm that the Franks were the buyer. The closing was conducted without the buyer present. The buyer had already completed a mortgage closing at a different branch so that money was available upon completion of the sale.

When I delivered the check to Mrs. Schilling she covered her mouth, laughed, and said “oh my, look at all those zeros. The Franks hadn’t won. Mrs. Schilling, the little old lady in the tennis shoes, had.

Afterwards we learned that a great many of the ever escalating offers were from the Franks! They apparently were bidding through straw parties against themselves.

A highlight of my professional career!

Some time later, Mrs. Shilling died.

She had given me directions to follow as I settled her estate. While she had no love for the City she did love her Boardwalk. Both she and Charley believed that their parking lots provided its life’s blood.  Many Boardwalk owners had used the parking adjacent to their boardwalk properties to expand the Boardwalk use or to establish a new one. She
didn’t want either to happen to her parking lots.

After her death I asked the city to subdivide her properties separating the boardwalk stores from the parking lots. There was great concern by members of the Planning Board - I remember Mayor Gillian saying that if the parking lots were sold with the stores it wouldn’t be long before they become the sites of new condominiums. He said he would rather trust the Schilling estate to preserve them. That carried the day and the parking lots became separate properties.

I offered them to the City at their appraised value and although another bidder attempted to outbid the city, the city ultimately prevailed. The city not only saved the boardwalk but made a good investment at the same time. I give credit to former mayor Knight and solicitor Gerry Corcoran for this accomplishment.

Mrs. Shilling's second concern was her tenants. Almost all of them had rented her stores for many years and were more like family than business associates. They paid more attention to her than her family, being there for her birthdays and Christmas. By converting the store sites to be legally 'condominiums' I was able to offer the stores at their appraised value to everyone who had been operating businesses in them.

All but one purchased their store and I hope continue to enjoy success.

The Shriver Building was purchased by her good friends, Hank and Ginny Glazier, who have taken her place as the Boardwalk's leading advocate.

The last of Mrs. Shillings property at 18th St.– the last undeveloped lots west of the boardwalk .– are now up for sale. The hospitals and the Tabernacle (her beneficiaries) can use the money, and I'm sure she would approve.

People forget the good we do. As Shakespeare wrote: “The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones.”

Ronald Lewis "Mike" Taht, of Ocean City, NJ, passed away the morning of June 5th, 2012, after a brief illness. He spent his last days in the company and comfort of his family.

Ronald was born March 17, 1936 to William Taht and Gladys Bloomer of Audubon, NJ. He is predeceased by parents and his brother William. He is survived by his wife of 51 years, Beverly, by his brother Kenneth, sister-in-law Janet, sons Michael ("Dave") and Stephen, daughter-in-law Carolyn, granddaughter Natalie, nieces Laura and Linda, nephews Bill (Eileen), Brian (Linda),Ken(Wendy), and their children.

Ronald went to college at Rutgers, Camden, graduating with a degree in law. He served as a reservist between the Korean and Vietnam wars. Partnering with Robert K Bell in his real estate law practice in Ocean City, Ron was also county prosecutor for Cape May, and later served as the Municipal court judge for Ocean City, as well as later, Tuckahoe, NJ. He was instrumental in getting Ocean City’s community center built, as well as helping preserve the heritage of Ocean City.

He loved to fish, and golf, and was a marvelous chef. He loved fine wine and a good debate. After his health began to fail he started writing down his experiences, and had his opinions published both here on his blog and in the Cape Coral News-Press. We will have two celebrations of his life in the coming months, the first will be in Ocean City sometime this summer, and in Ft Myers later this fall.

 

Jim Duffy 1952 - 2012

                                           Jim Duffy in the Old Anchorage phone booth 

http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/pressofatlanticcity/obituary.aspx?n=james-t-duffy&pid=159641213&eid=sp_shareobit - fbLoggedOut

DUFFY, JAMES T. - of Ocean City and Somers Point passed away on Saturday September 1, 2012.

Jim was born in Miami Florida on November 16, 1952. 

Jim is survived by his two sisters, Jeannette McAllister of Longport and Virginia Baldwin (Robert) of Linwood; his former wife, Lisa Savitsky Duffy of Somers Point; one niece and three nephews. He is predeceased by his mother, Jeannette Lehman; his father Walter Duffy; his step-father, Nelson Lehman; and his brother, Gary Duffy. 

Jim grew up in Ocean City and graduated from Ocean City High School. A skilled carpenter he was the owner of a local construction company for many years. As a young boy, Jim fell in love with the ocean. That love lead to his lifelong passions for surfing, fishing and eventually traveling. 

He inherited his love of animals from his mother and over the years owned and adored many cats. 

A visitation for Jim will be held Thursday, September 6, from 9 to 10am at The George H. Wimberg Funeral Home, 1707 New Road, Linwood. Burial will be private. In lieu of flowers donations may be made to a charity of your choice in his memory.

Tracking Down Iron Mike

                                     Sam McDowell with Iron Mike on the Ocean City Boardwalk 

Tracking Down Iron Mike

He stood there in the back of the Old Smuggler’s Shop on the Ocean City Boardwalk at 13^th Street for years that stretched into decades,

Everybody who was there at the time, from he sixties through the seventies, knew Iron Mike, and it seemed like you couldn’t walk past the boardwalk shop without stopping in to see him. He was the star attraction in a shop full of sea shells, antiques, historic replicas, whaler’s harpoons, a giant whale bones, and nautical gifts.

Iron Mike was an early metal deep sea diving suit that seemed to have found its niche in the back of Sam McDowell’s shop. The shop’s motif was a good reflection of its owner, who was born in Somers Point, was an Ocean City lifeguard, taught art at Princeton in the winters, and ran his boardwalk shop in the summer.

Vacationing on the West Indians island of Becquia in the winters, McDowell filled some of his shop with exotic art, crafts he brought back from the islands, including scrimshaw, which McDowell, the artist, started carving himself.

At a private party in Princeton, he met then Senator John F. Kennedy, an avid scrimshaw collector who admired McDowell’s work, and advised him to develop that talent more fully.

                       President Kennedy's scrimshaw prominently displayed on his Oval Office desk 

So under the advisement of a future president, McDowell left Princeton and Ocean City, moved fulltime to Bequia and spent most of his time carving scrimshaw, which he found even more lucrative and enjoyable than teaching or hawking his Smuggler’s wares on the boardwalk. He also bought a summer home in Carmel, California, where he often took his Ocean City lifeboat-like rowboat into the waves.

But what became of Iron Mike?

That’s what Steve Garza wanted to know. Steve read about McDowell’s art donations to the Ocean City and Somers Point Historical Societies [See: Ocean City Days: Sam McDowell - The Old Smuggler & Iron MIke ] , and wrote, “Hi Bill, I really enjoyed reading the following blog post about Sam McDowell

I remember his shop well from when I was growing up. Do you know what happened to Iron Mike? Many Thanks, Steve. Sent from my iPad.”

Since I didn’t know I told Steve that Sam was in Carmel, California and he might be able to answer his question, which sent him on his quest to find Iron Mike, and send back the following report.

Sam McDowell with Whale Bones at Smuggler Shop on Ocean City Boardwalk (Circa 1970s) 

IN SEARCH OF IRON MIKE– By Steve Garza (steve@stevegarza.com)

Many of us who visited Ocean City from the 50s through the 70s remember the Smuggler’s Shop – that fascinating combination of store and nautical museum at 13ths Street on the Boardwalk.

Although I was very young when I visited the Smuggler’s Shop, I have vivid memories of the place and its two shopkeepers, Sam McDowell, the shop’s owner, and Iron Mike, the imposing armored diving suit that greeted visitors.

During a recent visit to Ocean City I felt inspired to find out what became of both.

As for Sam McDowell, an internet search led me to an article on Bill Kelly’s blog about Sam. As readers may already know, Sam is a well-known artist who resides in California. I decided to contact Sam to find out more about his artwork and ask him what happened to Iron Mike. I wrote him a letter, using an address I had looked up, not even sure I was writing to the right Sam McDowell, but a week later I got a very gracious letter back from Sam, who was indeed “the Smuggler.”

Now in his 80s, Sam wrote that he now lives between his home in Carmel, California and his long time second home in Bequia, an island in the West Indies, though he seldom gets down there anymore.

Bequia is where he acquired some of the memorable items for his shop, such as the giant whale skull and native arts and crafts.

Sam said he is enjoying life with is wife, kids and grand kids, though he seems far from retired and makes a living as a full time artist, doing both painting and scrimshaw. He is recognized as one of the best scrimshaw artists working today, and also collects historic scrimshaw pieces. Sam focuses much of his time making fine art, hand-crafted scrimshaw pocket knives, which are sold by fine art galleries across the country.

Sam was also kind enough to include scans of two postcards he formerly sold at the shop, one of Iron Mike and one of the huge whale skull.

On the topic of Iron Mike, Sam said that he had sold the iron diving suit to a nautical museum in City Island, in the Bronx, New York, but later heard that it ended up in Florida, but he did not know where.

Those who remember Sam and the fascinating items in his shop may want to check out some of the galleries that sell his scrimshaw pocket knives. They’re collectible works of art that could also hold some personal meaning to those of us who remember the Smuggler’s Shop days.

IRON MIKE FOUND

It took a lot of internet searching to find any current information on Iron Mike. Finally I found some pictures on Flickr tagged as Iron Mike that were taken by some tourist of a large yellow painted diving suit in a museum in Islamorada, Florida. When I looked closely at the pictures, there was no doubt it was Iron Mike, who had received a yellow paint job on his upper body at some point in his travels.

While it appears that Iron Mike is a popular tourist attraction, the museum doesn’t mention him on their web site.

I called the museum to see if they had any more information about Iron Mike and his history and virtually met Amber Weller, of the Florida Keys History of Diving Museum, the present home of Iron Mike, and she filled me in with many of the following details.

A BRIEF HISTORY OF IRON MIKE

Iron Mike was built in the early 1930s by the Empire Marine Salvage and Engineering Corporation of New York City, which was headed by Thomas P. Connelly. A patent filed in 1934 lists Mr. Connelly as the inventor. The company had an address at 17 Battery Place in New York, a few blocks south of the present day World Trade Center site. But the salvage operations appear to have been based across the Hudson River in Jersey City, New Jersey.

Iron Mike’s primary ‘occupant’ was a well known commercial diver, Roy R. Hansen, of Perth Amboy, NJ. 

According to the patent, Iron Mike was designed with a number of innovative features, most of which were significant improvements over standard diving equipment of the times, including:

Iron Mike was fully pressurized and self-contained, with an oxygen tank that provided approximately four hours of air time, which was included within the suit, so no air hoses were necessary, and a bottle of caustic soda would absorb the CO2 emitted by the diver.

A telephone line was attached so the diver could keep in contact with the boat on the surface, and the mechanical “hands” of a grappling jaw permitted him to grasp objects.

The suit consists of a top and bottom pieces, secured together with a threaded ring, which could easily be opened. The buoyancy of the suit made it naturally return to an upright position, a feature the diver could take advantage of to lean over to closely inspect an object, as the suit would upright itself.

Iron Mike undertook three dives that received notable press coverage, and made him something of a celebrity. There were likely other dives, but without the company’s records, they can’t be documented. If Iron Mike could speak, he probably would have many fascinating stories to tell.

HMS Hussar, October, 1934. The Hussar was a British ship carrying pay for their soldiers during the American Revolution. In 1780 the Hussar hit a rock and sank in the Hells Gate, a treacherous waterway off New York City. Mr. Connelly’s company was one of at least three parties that attempted to locate the ship in the mid-1930s. For this mission, Iron Mike was outfitted with a huge light above his head and one on each arm, and dragged through the water behind a tugboat called the Terminal. Despite the relatively shallow depth of about 120 feet, Hansen called the job one of the nastiest of his career due to the strength of the currents.

The search continued along the shores of the Bronx for about a month during which Hansen identified six shipwrecks, none of which was the Hussar. The search was then called off because Simon Lake, the inventor of the modern submarine, and Pleasantville, NJ native, claimed to have exclusive rights, granted by the Treasury Department, to recover the Hussar. Lake was ultimately unsuccessful in this effort.

It is now believed that the amount of blasting, dredging and filling in the Hells Gate, beginning in 1876, probably buried the remains of the Hussar under landfill in the Port Morris section of the Bronx.

A humorous side note – a Time Magazine article about the dive said the crew had nicknamed the suit “Eleanor.” Thankfully, someone later reconsidered this decision and Iron Mike took hold.

Merida, August 1936. The Merida was a passenger steamer carrying gold and silver bullion from Mexico in 1911 that collided with another ship and sank off the Virginia coast in about 270 feet of water. The cargo had an estimated value of $26 million in 1936 dollars, or about $425 million today. Mr. Connelly and company dove the wreck with Iron Mike in August 1936, and according to some reports, they did salvage some of the cargo, but no details were provided. However, the book Treasure Legends of Virginia states that the company’s expedition failed, after having spent $250,000 (about $4 million today). 

A New York Times article about the expedition reveals some interesting insights about the mission and Iron Mike. Roy Hansen, by this point very experienced using Iron Mike, was supremely confident in the suit and the changes of success on this mission. He even claimed he could stay down for 16 hours at a time. Hansen also said he believed the suit could dive to 2,000 feet.

The article named his two assistants – James Cullom and William Hogarty, both from Jersey City. Most interestingly, the article refers to the presences of two diving suits matching Iron Mike’s description. Amber discovered in her research that there was an earlier suit, very similar to Iron Mike, believed to have been designed by Benjamin Leavitt of Camden, New Jersey, and this suit may have also been used for the Merida mission. Nevertheless, most documentation indicates that Thomas Connelly only built one Iron Mike suit.

Quarry Dive in Pen Argyl, Pa. September 1936. Shortly after the Merida dive, Iron Mike was used to recover the body of a 13 year old boy who drowned in a flooded quarry in Pennsylvania. In completing this somber task, Roy Hansen claimed he dove to 510 feet, a record at the time, but this could not be officially confirmed for the record books.

Post 1930s.

It is not clear what became of Thomas Connelly and his company, or when Iron Mike was retired from commercial diving. Iron Mike was reportedly stored at the Philadelphia Naval Ship Yard at some point in the 1940s, and after that was part of a live diving demonstration in Atlantic City, probably at Steel Pier.

From there he was acquired by Sam McDowell and spent his years in Ocean City. Around the time Sam closed the Smuggler’s Shop, around 1980, he sold Iron Mike to the Northwind Undersea Institute in City Island, Bronx, NY, a museum co-founded by folk singer Ritchie Havens. 

From there Iron Mike was acquired by Drs. Joe and Sally Bauer, the founders of the Florida Keys History of Diving Museum in Islamorada, Florida, and the museum has been his home ever since.

Sometime before he got to the museum, his upper body was painted yellow for an unknown reason. The museum is interested in restoring him to his original finish, but does not have the resources to do so at this time.

Today, Iron Mike is one of the most popular attractions at the Islamorada museum.

Special thanks to Sam McDowell, for sharing his recollections, and Amber Weller of the Florida Keys History of Diving Museum for sharing her research and patiently answering my questions. Amber’s research skills and attention to detail have uncovered a lot of fascinating information about Iron Mike.

LINKS:

Florida Keys History of Diving Museum

http://www.divingmuseum.org/

Steve Notes:

I do have one small update, which is that the diving museum also (finally) wrote about Iron Mike on their own blog just a few days ago.  
http://www.historyofdivingmuseum.blogspot.com/.    

Iron Mike Patent:

http://www.google.com/patents?id=Ord9AAAAEBAJ&zoom=4&dq=diving%20suit%201934&pg=PA1#v=onepage&q=diving%20suit%201934&f=false

Sam McDowell Knives:

http://artknives.com/Sam_McDowell_Knives/sam_mcdowell_knives.html

http://www.oregoncoastgalleries.com/home/ocg/smartlist_125/mcdowell_scrimshaw_knives_hand_engraved.html

http://www.hartfordyork.com/category/mcdowell-knives

http://vallejogallery.com/item.php?id=2350&

http://www.arizonacustomknives.com/Sam-McDowell.aspx