THE GOOD OLD DAYS. . . as best as I can remember

In 1934, my family bought our summer home on Glenwood Ave. in Wildwood, five years before I was born. Most of my 71 years I have spent the summers in Wildwood. So my boyhood memories go back a long way. Our property tax that first year was $12. for the year, a lot different from today. The food, meat and drinks in those first years were kept in our ice box. Every few days the ice wagon would pull up and we would buy a block of ice to keep things cool. The kids would chase after the ice truck to gather ice chips to suck on hot days. I remember the gas meter in the kitchen. You inserted a quarter into the meter and this would provide gas to cook on the stove and heat up the water heater. Then the trip from Philadelphia to our summer home on a Friday night took about four hours, with a trip over the Delaware River on the Ben Franklin Bridge or the ferry boat to Camden, a gas stop, and maybe an ice cream stop at a farmer’s market along the DelSea Drive. We knew we were close when we smelled the bunker factory coming into Rio Grand Ave., or driving past the old shacks on stilts and over the wooden rickety bridge into North Wildwood.

Earliest memories of the 40’s were sitting on the beach with my mother and sister and watching the military planes from the Cape May County Airport flying out to sea. The lead plane would be towing a long wire with a target at the end. Soon there would be sounds of machine guns with the rat da tat firing at the trailing banner far off shore. I would not have liked being the pilot who towed the target. In those days my sister and I would collect empty soda bottles on the beach at the end of the day. We would return them for the 2¢ deposit. A fun day would be seeing the wrestlers who performed at the Convention Hall on the boardwalk come down to the beach and put on an exhibition to draw a crowd for the night’s matches. The beach day would usually end with Captain Dutch Hoffman and his lifeguards lowering the American Flag to the sound of God Bless America over the boardwalk speakers. Everyone stopped what they were doing, stood up and proudly held there hand over their heart. My son Jeff would later work as a life guard on the beach.

Those old coal passenger trains were exciting to see rumbling over the trestle bridge on the bay and heading to the train station at Oak and NJ Ave. With smoke, coal and timber burning they would hiss and puff, and you could hear and smell them a mile away. At the station on a weekend there were several excursion trains lined up on the side tracks and the station house was busy with visitors. As a youngster I would take my wagon there and help the people with their bags to walk to the boarding houses for a tip.

In the 50’s there was a small bus that ran from the bay in West Wildwood past our house and finished at the bus station at Oak and the Boardwalk. It would drop you off anywhere along the way and cost about a quarter. Took about 20 minutes up and 20 back. One Saturday night our cat Rusty ran into the street and used up its last nine lives, as he was hit by the bus. He was about 12 years old at the time. We buried him in our back yard where there is a rose bush today.As a teen, my friends and I would go down to Maxwell Field to play baseball. It was named after Reds Maxwell a long time city commissioner who served with Commissioner Charles Masciarella and Mayor Ralph James (who always wore a bow tie) at that time. Before Maxwell Field we played at the little field across from the railroad station, next to the log cabin and where the Lions Center is today. Our left field wall was the Terminal Café. There was a teacher Ms. Dellapolie at Wildwood High who lived in a house next to the fence in center field and our balls would fly over into her yard and she would keep them until the next school day. Since my local friends Rich Snyder, Frankie Breslin, Harry Merkel, and Ed Millard had her for English class, we decided it was best to play elsewhere instead of facing her and asking for our balls back.

At night there were baseball games at Maxwell Field with the fans sitting in the wooden stands in back of home plate. They charged about 50 cents to get into the park to pay for the umpires and balls. Of course we climbed over the wooden fence to get in. Some of the teams that I remember were the Wildwood Islanders , Crest Cardinals, coached by Scoop Taylor, with all local guys such as Don Twist, Leo Grande, Peterson, Osborne, Spiegel, and the three Hall brothers, there was the Cape May Coast Guard team, and a club called the House of David with all the players sporting full beards from Philadelphia. Good games under the lights.

At the end of West Wildwood there was a building sitting on pilings on the bay. As kids we would go inside and play pin ball, other games, have ice cream and candy and just hang out. They also rented out rowboats for fishing and crabbing in the bay. It was a fun place and I think it was washed away in a storm.

In the 50’s my father and uncle loved fishing and they would take me along to the Villas to fish in the Delaware Bay. In those days you rented a rowboat and the operator would tow you out about a mile and leave you anchored. You had one oar and you would raise it in the sky when you wanted to be towed in. Well my father and uncle got there money’s worth, and we would stay out there all day until about 5 o’clock. Regardless if I got sick or not. There was a motor boat which came by and sold sandwiches, beer and soda, and with what we packed in the cooler we never ran out of food or beer for about 8 hours. I can still see the turtles swimming by, and catching weakfish, flounder, sea bass, sting rays, eels, blowfish, sea robins, and sharks. The fish were plentiful and we shared our catch with our neighbors.

Growing up in the summers at the shore meant working for spending money for us kids. My earlier jobs included selling newspapers on the beach, then as a beach boy renting out beach umbrellas and chairs. Then my career took off when my good friend Richie Snyder got me in as a bus boy, dish washer and soda jerk for a few summers at Jackson’s Coffee Shop, at Oak & Pacific, for owner Jack Bickel. My sister Ann worked as a baby sitter, boardwalk sales, and swimming in the water show at Sportland Pier. My brother Bill worked at the basketball hoops toss on the boards, and as a busboy at Groff’s Restaurant. Brother Jim worked on the beach also selling papers and renting out umbrellas and chairs. We received a cent and a half for each paper sold.

In 1963, I finished a tour with the Army and was hired by the Wildwood Police Dept. I finished the Police Academy and soon was partnered with Officer Dominic Romeo. So it was Officers Romeo and Love sharing the same car. We made the local news paper about once a week with writer Henry Lapidus who was also the Justice of the Peace in North Wildwood covering our exploits , The Philadelphia Inquirer wrote an article by Rose Dewolf, and we made Ripley’s Believe It Or Not. That is a story for another time.

So these are some of my early memories of Wildwood. We still have our house. My father gave it to me when he was 85 years old, and I plan to pass it down to my two sons when my memories have faded. There is something to say About The Good Old Days.

1942, 3 yr. old Al Love with his parents, Al and Anna Love	1942, 3 yr. old Al Love and his 7 yr. old sister Ann, with Uncle Gil Scott and Aunt Mary	2005, Al and Sandra Love with their granddaughter Delia