Saltaire Memories: Labor Day

Tom Lyon was a smart city kid. He seemed to know about everything. In Saltaire, he would sit down in front of the Saltaire Sweet Shope or on the dock and read a whole stack of daily newspapers. Sometimes he would fight with his sister Laurie about who would get the sports sections first and who would get the news sections.

Tom would come up with critiques of and pithy quotes from that morning's observations by Arthur Krock, or John Drebinger’s report of what happened last night with the Yankees. When we were kids, Tom must have picked out a thousand newspaper articles for us to read and talk about.

And the Yankees ... Tom could tell you what the Sporting News was saying about the latest Yankees streak, or how many home runs Babe Ruth hit at the Stadium in 1927.

At any rate, it was Labor Day, September 7, 1964. The annual awards ceremony was over, and people were starting to roll their wagons packed and ready to go down Broadway to the dock. In those days, the season pretty much ended at Labor Day.

Tom is sitting there in front of the Sweet Shoppe, and he says "you should read this story.”
It was an essay about Labor Day from that morning’s Times. I read it, and I figure I have read it again almost every Labor Day since. No great shakes, that essay. Tom wasn’t sentimental that way. His sentimentality had more of a Holden Caulfield edge to it.

But I read it because I think of Tom sitting there reading that paper, that day at the end of that summer.

There would be more summers for Tom. But not many. Nor for Laurie. I still think of Tom sitting there.

Then I think of the millions of stories over that vast expanse of time that Tom never got to read, that he never got to talk about, laugh about, make sarcastic remarks about. I still think of Tom...
---JO'H




So for what it's worth: here is the article Tom told me to read:

_______________________________________
TOPICS

End of Summer

It's gone it now, the whole thing. That's all there is, there isn't any more. It seemed just a moment ago when, on a Memorial Day Beach the summer stretched ahead to a rockets a flight beyond infinity. Obviously this was not so. The seashell held to the ear that day sang a gay lyric based on sunshine, sparkling water -- and all the time in the world. Hold that shell today and it weeps with sadness and is dour with foreboding. Good-bye to the beach, which to all intents and purposes today is turned back to the gulls. Farewell to the clams and the driftwood fires, to the castles and the fishermen and the legend of the singing sand. This holds that to walk over it when the tide is right will compress it in such a way as to sound like a song. The tide was right that day the summer started, the result having a lilt like something composed by Meredith Wilson for 76 trombones. Today the tide is all wrong. Today is Labor Day and the end of summer. Good-bye.


Lake and Mountain

Farewell to the lake and to the mountain just behind it. Under a late May sky the water was deep blue and the mountain a brilliant green, and the scene cried for a painter to record it. Today there is something bleak about the sky, and an occasional dab of red and brown disfigures the green, like careless spatterwork. No artist would care to touch it today, now at the end of summer. Good-bye. Farewell to the trout at the bottom of the stream and that bass the bottom of the lake and to the loon that makes its home near where stream and lake join together. Back in May the call the old fellow made could be recorded as a cheerful salute to the season, although this could stretch the imagination somewhat. Today, there can be no question about the call. It is rude, sardonic, and it spells out its message -- you're going back where you came from, and good riddance.

The Winding Road

Farewell to the dirt roads which lead to picturesque hamlets and pretty, cared-for farms. Back at the end of May, the spirit was adventurous and it took no more than a touch of the wheel to leave the superhighway world and find a better one. A whole new country opened. Roads were found which followed the natural course of roads -- beside the natural course of streams -- the best of them not even on the wavering thin blue lines on the road maps. On Memorial Day it seemed right to plan an entire summer away from the highways, but good-bye to that. Farewell to lanes going through buttercup meadows, and the brooks lined with weeping willows, the lanes on which twice a day the herds of cows have the right of way. Good-bye to the road stand with box-top counter, where sweet corn is still warm from the sun and practically given away by a proprietor or honestly glad and to see you. Farewell to the country store. Of recent years these have sprung up everywhere, vending atmosphere along with antiques, but they are imitative, not real. The real ones are on the back roads which, starting in late May, went everywhere. Tonight, going home, they will lead but to the superhighway at the end of summer. Good-bye.

Farewell to It All.

Goodbye to the weekend, which never is quite long enough, of course, but is the next best thing to the official vacation. Farewell to tennis and golf and the rocking chair on the hotel porch and the hammock beneath the tree. In late May it was possible to itemize all the worthwhile books which would be read in that hammock, but today the fact must be faced that "War and Peace" has suffered its usual postponement until another summer. Farewell to the little carnival, set out for a week in the town's dusty lot -- about the only relic left of the great circus tradition. Farewell to watermelon, held in the hand and not on plates, and grilled chicken drumsticks, served minus forks, and peanut butter sandwiches seasoned with just the right pinch of fine white sand. Farewell to the summer. Late last May it seemed likely that even the office time clock would cooperate, by slowing its hands or stopping them altogether. That was just an illusion, so recognized now. Instead of stopping on the sunny hours, the hands of all clocks everywhere moved forward like lightning, to reach today. Good-bye.


New York Times
Septemer 7, 1964

Remembering Pete Kurachek

Editors note: As our readers know, October 12, 2008 saw the passing of "Uncle Pete" Kurachek, the Saltaire director of Recreation, 1954-1964, who left strong impressions on anyone growing up in the Village in those years. We asked people for comments, and got more than 10,000 words in reply. The stories below were already sent to the Kurachek family. Robin Wright starts from the beginning and Jim Connolly and Pam Thorp go from there. We will publish some more tributes in this space in the next few days. And of course, as always, your comments can be posted below.

From Tom Connolly:

In my lifetime I've spent 1,000 days in Saltaire. Of those, all but 100 had already passed by the time I reached age 21, and all but three had been expended before I reached age 45.

Three years ago, Jim, John and I flew to Utah and spent some time with "Little Pete" and his wife Mary at Pete's cabin in the mountains. It seemed as if we had said goodbye only a week earlier - rather than forty-plus years. Interestingly though, we spent most of our time talking about what we planned to do the next day, and very little time reminiscing.

Uncle Pete was not there, of course. He was elderly by then, and being cared for by Stephen and his family. I should have spoken with him then. It would have been so easy. But for some reason, I wasn't sure what to say. That feeling persists.

At his essence, Uncle Pete was a teacher. He taught us all Junior Lifesaving, taught us softball and basketball, and God help us - archery. In all that time, I cannot ever recall Uncle Pete telling me what to do. He must have of course - but I don't remember it. What I do remember was the twinkle in his eye when he explained my choices. After watching me field ground balls by dropping to one knee, he made the correction and observed, "Better to use your glove, than your face."
There were some things of course, that were deadly serious. All of us who spent time life guarding remember Uncle Pete coming up to us and asking, "How many people are in the water?" His warning that, "most drownings occur in two feet of water or less," has remained with me throughout my lifetime.

In a twist of irony, Uncle Pete was an authority figure, who shunned it. He taught but never lectured. He always prioritized. To this day I remember him saying, "The most important part of the double play is keeping the runner from taking third." I remember that, and I remember what he might have added - but elected not to.

Saltaire is a unique place, a place where children play rather than compete, a place where accomplishment takes a vacation, and expectations are nowhere to be found. From the moment one sets foot on the boat dock, the beauty of the sunset and the smell of the salt air transport residents and renters alike to "another place."
But unlike many on that endangered island, Uncle Pete knew our hearts, and took the time to touch our souls. Sometimes he did so euphemistically - "I think the boys are being swayed by her peaches and cream complexion.” Sometimes he did so with a look. But almost always, with a twinkle in his eye.


Tom Connolly
Jefferson, MA

VICTORIA BAUM'S TRUE CONFESSION:

Dear Uncle Pete—

I want to thank you so much for how well you taught me to swim. As recently as this past July in Tuscany, Italy, when I was doing laps of the sidestroke in the hotel pool, I still heard your voice in my head saying: "Take the fruit from the tree, put it in the other hand, and put it in the basket."

I was a pretty quiet and background-type swimming student. Even though I hated swimming through seaweed in the bay, I loved swimming and always attended my swimming lessons. I worked my way up the Red Cross swimming-test ranks. Then came my test for the big prize: certification for junior life saving. In order to get that prize, I would have to survive the really scary test: Jump off the dock and save Uncle Pete who would confidently try to drown me as if he were a panicked swimmer.

The stories about Uncle Pete's ferocity during the junior life-saving tests were legendary, and I was mighty anticipatory. The day of the test I watched several others go before me and then it was my turn. At the assigned moment, I took a deep breath and launched myself off the dock and began swimming warily toward a flailing Uncle Pete in the deep water. As I came within reach of his long, muscular arms, he grabbed me around the neck and pushed me under the water. In my innocent and instinctive effort to resurface, I kicked as hard as I could. And this struggling young girl kicking her 12-year-old legs to try to get above water quickly discovered that she had not kicked the water at all but rather that she had kicked Uncle Pete. Really hard. Right in the testicles. In that split-second, Uncle Pete stopped struggling and gasped in pain. Realizing what I had accidentally done, I seized my moment and pinned Uncle Pete in my toughest cross-chest carry and hauled him toward the shore for all I was worth. He barely moved but then recovered with ferocity. By that time I could touch ground and I just dragged this big man toward the shore.

Then the test was deemed over and we stood on the beach for the verdict, a dripping Uncle Pete and me. I guess I expected a tongue-lashing. Instead, Uncle Pete looked me right in the eye and said something like, "That was one smart move young lady. You pass." I was elated but also so embarrassed that I could barely utter a word of apology. Uncle Pete turned and limped back to the water to confront his next victim.

So, here 44 years later, I want to sincerely apologize to you Uncle Pete and assure you that I kicked you where I did purely by accident. I trust that you recovered and that I did not wound you for life. Thank you again for having run such a great summer day camp and swimming program. We are all better--and more athletic--people today for your involvement in our young lives.

With warmest regards,
Victoria/Vicki Baum Bjorklund
New York

SHEILA O'SHEA IN NEW MEXICO ON "THE WHISTLE":

Dear Kurachek Family,

I'm so sorry to hear about the passing of Uncle Pete. My sister, Patsy, had asked me to give a few remembrances - HOW CAN I FORGET THE WHISTLE!? It was ALWAYS there ready to rein in any wayward (wayward in multiple ways) kids. I don't think I've met a whistle since then, so his still rings in my ears. Perhaps that's why I've got a hearing loss. I remember he brought real sports to Saltaire. I mean real, real, real sports, not some casual fun, slightly competitive game. Didn't he start the gold vs. blue rivalry?

Oh, Uncle Pete sometimes scared me with the whistle ready to blast any mistake I made which was, as I recall, every few minutes. I'm sure it wasn't that frequently from my perspective now as a very wise and almost old adult, but it felt that way to me then when I was a very skinny 8 year old.

Uncle Pete was an iconic figure. He sure made an impression on all of us. I'm glad he lived so long and did so well. But that whistle. I expect now that if (and its a BIG if) I get to heaven I'll hear the whistle, turn around and see Uncle Pete smiling with that dang silver thing still in his mouth.


Sheila O’Shea Gibbens
Pena Blanca, N.M.

Robin Wright:

The year was 1954. My father, who was in charge of Parks and Recreation for Saltaire, hired Uncle Pete, and Pete in turn hired me as a counselor, Art Mol as head lifeguard, and Werner Ulricht, a German Exchange student from Fair Harbor, as assistant life guard.

The next summer, after Uncle Pete’s counseling, I became Art Mol’s Assistant lifeguard.

Pete Kurachek was a great football coach! I spent hours with him on the Saltaire field learning the hard way how to block and tackle. He liked to win.



Robin Wright
Woodside, CA




Jim Connolly remembers:



Thinking about Uncle Pete brings back a flood of memories far more vivid than last night’s dinner. Tom, John (Jayo) and I were enrolled in “class” the year Uncle Pete arrived. I remember the very first time I saw jim. He was putting down lime for the first and third base foul lines. It is as clear as yesterday.

It was also clear from the outset that he was in charge. He was Uncle Pete to us and Coach to his players in Pleasantville. I remember one time years later when I visited his family in Pleasantville and called him “Uncle Pete.” His players looked absolutely horrified.

I remember the Blue and Gold teams and the games we played all Summer long to see which team would win the most points at the end of the year. Somehow he always kept it close. And of course there was the coveted Cup which ensured good behavior. I think we should have a Cup for our grandchildren.

I remember swimming lessons at the Bay, particularly Junior Lifesaving. I never forgot what to do if a panic-stricken swimmer grabs hold of a would-be rescuer. Go down. They’ll let go. Then turn their hips, come up behind then, hit them with your forearm in the shoulder, grasp them by the chin and pull them back. I never worried about anyone else after “saving” Uncle Pete.

I remember when I was a Counselor and lost my high school ring in the Field. Uncle Pete had the entire class line up along the fence and walk to the other end. And they found it. I can’t remember what I did with it after that.

Peter Jr. got me into a lot of trouble. Just before a hurricane, maybe Hurricane Carol, Pete and I took our sailboat, the Wahoo, out for a sail. We were flying and got back safely. My mother let me hear about that. She also had some comments the night we sailed to Bay Shore and stayed over at Ronnie Swedborg’s. I imagine Uncle Pete heard about that too.

Then of course there were the Church bells and the hole for the Beach Taxi. Luckily we all took a vow of silence.

The most vivid memories were the softball games. Uncle Pete taught us how to play the game and we practiced all the time. First it was the Men against the Boys. After a while we beat them. And then we always beat them.

And we always beat Ocean Beach. They were twice our size but they never realized it was a team game. Mike Fitzgerald was our sometimes catcher. Ronnie Swedborg pitched - which really made a big difference. Jayo played third. Pete played short or caught. Tom played second and I was on first. Kenny O’Hare played left. Bobby McGinn played center. Bobby had a gun and threw it on a rope. And Carbery O’Shea played right. We had a very good umpire.

One day when we were killing Ocean Beach again, their pitcher Bill Dickie threw at me a couple of times and then whipped one in overhand. You called the game and then asked me quietly what I was going to do. I went after Bill and invited him to show me what he had. He thought about it for a second or two and decided to shake hands. I was really surprised at that because he was much bigger. But then I noticed that Jayo had brought along a bat. Good thinking, Jayo.

We had our share and more of fun in the sun at Saltaire notwithstanding the occasional mosquito and poison ivy patch. We always traveled in a pack that often included brothers and sisters. We knew early on that Steven was very bright. And May Lou was a sweetheart. And Michael was a daredevil. And Mrs. Kurachek was a great Mom. I was excited to see Pete Jr. start up his butter and egg business and compete with old man Severe, when he began rationing milk.

I apologize for running on a bit but it all seems like yesterday to me. Uncle Pete was such a strong influence on so many lives, not least my own.


Jim Connolly, aka James
Dover, MA

Pam Thorp:

UNCLE PETE


I heard of the passing of Uncle Pete with great sadness. He played a major role in my childhood, and as is so common in childhood, something so valuable and dear is often taken for granted.

My memories of Uncle Pete are countless; here are just a few:
Uncle Pete teaching me to float by taking a leaf and floating it on the greeny-grey surface of the bay. “Everything that is living floats,” he told me. I can’t tell you how many times those words have re-played, and in all sorts of situations in life where I was afraid that I would ‘sink’.

I hated swimming lessons. I was a skinny little girl and would become shivering and blue-lipped quite quickly in the water. One day I was determined to avoid the dreaded lesson, and sat cross-legged and aloof on my towel fiddling with the sand. My mother could do nothing to coax or cajole me into that water. Uncle Pete assessed the situation and gently sat himself down on the sand next to me. I don’t know what he said or did, but I ended up digging up the bathing cap I had buried (the one I “forgot”), and braving the waters. Something in his voice, tough but very tender, got to me. I still hate swimming laps to this day but I’m one heck of a strong swimmer!

I loved looking at Uncle Pete. It wasn’t a crush thing he just inspired a feeling of well-being. The image of Uncle Pete in his red swim trunks, t-shirt, signature whistle, deep tan and zinc-white nose is indelible in my memory network as is the sound of his voice that always pushed me to do my best.

I will really miss you in the world Uncle Pete. I send my love, respect and appreciation out to you, wherever you may be at this time. I’ll bet you are floating out there somewhere, as any spirit so wonderfully alive could never, ever sink.


Sent with my most heartfelt condolences to the family of Uncle Pete: Peter, MaryLou, and Steven.

Pamela Thorp
New York City

VOTE FOR SALTAIRE ALL TIME ALL STAR SOFTBALL PLAYERS

Saltaire All-Star Voting
NOMINEES FOR SALTAIRE SOFTBALL ALL TIME ALL-STAR TEAMS

VOTE NOW BY E MAIL TO:

SALTAIRESPORTS@AOL.com

A BRIEF HISTORY OF SALTAIRE SOFTBALL

by Jim O'Hare and Jon Lyon
copyright 2008



"Saltaire is known for its great softball league in the summer."
--- Wikipedia




For generations, softball has been one of the main sporting attractions in the Village of Saltaire.

From the 1940’s and 1950s, with great weekend contests with such names as “Marine Walk v. The World,” and “DEKES v. the World, “ through almost ten years of softball games between Saltaire Teenagers and Ocean Beach Teams, to the creation, in the early 1970s, of the Saltaire Softball League, all the way through 2008 with the expansion of the League to admit the Outsiders and the Rip Tide, softball has been a major sporting attraction for players and spectators alike. Through all these years, the games at Wright Memorial field and grandstands have been center for some of the most long-standing and exciting Saltaire traditions and rivalries.



We have no direct records of softball before the late 1940s. The venue, simply called “The Field” has always been pretty much the same size as today except there was more room north of the right field foul line before the fire house expanded in the 1970's. The Field was enclosed by a chicken wire fence. Until the late 1940s in the early 1950s the outer perimeter of the field consisted of a cinder track, making running in barefoot a painful experience. Gradually the cinder was covered or sank into the sand; it was finally eliminated with landscaping renovations in the 1970’s. There was dense brush where the playground is now until it was cleared and sand was pumped in in 1954. That made for a lot more lost balls because anything fouled off to the left side across Neptune Walk wound up deep in a thicket of poison ivy and blueberry bushes.

Home plate was always in the northeast corner, but a laid out dirt diamond was not introduced until well into the 1970’s .

Before the present day basketball courts were constructed, there were three basketball backboards in the ball field. One was along the right-field line, and there were back-to-back boards in right center field. The portable backstop came some time in the early 1970's, and at some point (we need some help here, pals) the right field fence was raised? While the backstop certainly has saved many a ball from getting lost in never never land it also prevents a catcher's ability to make a sliding catch of those pop-ups. Jon Lyon: "I always loved these opportunities when I was catching. I remember well Mike Kuracheck taking special batting practice to line balls over the lower right field porch."

In the 1940s and 1950s, weekend games were the rule, often pickup games with informal and varying rosters and teams. No running statistics were known to be maintained. Teams informally developed over themes or locale: “Marine Walk v. The World” games pitted players from Marine Walk against all comers. There were some “DEKES v. World” contests. There must have been a lot of guys from college fraternities in those days to man the “DEKES.” Sometimes such theme games were preceded by parades, with banners and noise makers.


Through the organizational skills of Athletic Director Pete Kurachek http://saltaire38.blogspot.com/search?q=metaphors in the late 1950’s inter community games were scheduled between teenage teams from Saltaire, Ocean Beach, and Point of Woods. Those Saltaire-OB-POW games developed into series that became the main focus of interest in Saltaire Softball in the 1960s.

This started two new trends:

First: the 1940’s and 1950’s teams had been made up of “grownups,”

http://saltaire38.blogspot.com/search?q=touch and they were strictly weekend affairs. The 1960’s teams were made up of Saltaire teenagers and they were played during the week while all the “Daddies” were back in the city. The 1960's teams were made up of kids who grew up in Saltaire under the aggressive coaching of Uncle Pete Kurachek, and they they were now teenagers working at summer jobs in the Village as counselors for Uncle Pete, or at the Market, or on the Ferries.

Secondly, those Saltaire-OB-POW series also started the trend toward regularly scheduled games with regular rosters, which would develop into a formal intramural league by the early 1970's.

These two trends: kids growing up developing their own teams, and organized teams with regularly scheduled games, were the genesis for the need, by the late 1960’s, for an organized league within Saltaire itself.

Games on continued on an informal basis on weekends of the 1960s, but the main attraction of Saltaire softball through most of the 1960s were the weekday evening contests between the Saltaire teenagers and lifeguard teams from Ocean Beach, captained by Dana Wallace. Lacking a field of their own, all of the Saltaire-Ocean Beach games were played at Saltaire. Throughout the 1960’s the OB-Saltaire games gains were always intense and competitive. The grandstands would be packed. Additionally, a couple games would be played each summer against Point of Woods, one home and one away. The Point of Woods field was a large open field with no fences. Compared to the confines of the Saltaire Field, the POW outfield seemed like an endless meadow. In the 1960’s Saltaire played several games against powerful Fair Harbor Teams led by Barry Wetherall and Billy Newman.


By the late 1960s, growth of interest in softball pickup games began causing conflicts on weekends, with several informal teams sometimes vying for space in the same field at the same time. Over a period of several years, there was talk of forming a weekend league, if for no other reason than to avoid conflicts over field time. Talks about a league were thrashed about by Dick Starkey, Noel Feustel, Jim O’Hare and the late Tom Lyon.



In the late 1960's pre-league Sunday evening games did include many "Daddies" who either worked for the Village (Beckel, Braddish) or others who probably took the Monday 6 A.M. Death Boat. We don't know who dubbed the Jon Lyon/Danny Weinlandt Team "Danny's Boys, "and they wer never known by that name, but it has been noted on the historical plaque. This team that played in the Sunday evening games in the late 60's against a team who became the Men. There were really only two teams in the "majors" at that time. "The Men" consisted of the likes of Mel Beckel, Kevin Braddish, Bert Pogrebin, Bruce Simon, Hill Farber, Dick Starkey. Can't remember if big Mike McA and Judge Latham were part of this team, or if they came alive with the Wrecks.

The Men played the Boys who consisted of hurler Danny Weinlandt (hence, I guess Danny's Boys), Jon Lyon Dennis and Phil Keane, Allen Aherne, and at various times any of the three Cunningham boys, John Standard, Johnny Glascock, Paul McGarrity (of Kismet bar fame), and Noel the Feustel. Noel, eventually dubbing the rest of us too serious about winning, started the Z Team, which eventually became the Dogfish. The Boys begat the A Team.

Although news releases for the formation went out in 1971 Get out and playball,The first organized league schedule was in 1973.1973-saltaire-softball-league-schedule

The teams in 1973 were:
The As
The Zs
The Teens
The Oedipus Wrecks
The Men




For the first time, organized scores, standings, and championships were awarded. Since then, the league has constantly grown in competitiveness and size. The league has been in existence so long now that there are many people playing today who were not yet born when the league was formed. Fewer can recall the great names of the 1950’s.

Saltaire38.blogspot.com has assiduously interviewed veterans of all eras, and is pleased to announce its nominees for the all-time All-Stars on from Saltaire from the 1940s up through the present.


AND THE NOMINEES ARE:


1940-1959:

• Sid Greer
  
• Art Mol
• Charlie Ludlow
• Paul Connelly Jr.
• Bruce Banta
• Dave Eisele
• Jack Thorp
• Bill Weinlandt
• Ed Weinlandt
• Bob Marks
• Bob Wright
• Robin Wright
• Mike Fitzgerald
• Pete Banta
• Kenny O'Hare
• James Connolly
• Tom Connolly
• Doug Wright
• John Conolly
• Squirt Aherne
• CarberyO'Shea, Jr.
• Joe Callahan
• Pete Callahan
  

From 1960-1969

Ronnie Swedborg
Danny Weinlandt

• Pete Kurackeck Jr.
• Allen Aherne
• Kenny Torrey
• Kenny O’Hare
• Eugene Piper
• Billy Ervin
• Johnny Glascock
• Jim O’Hare
• Dennis Keane
• Tom Connolly Jr.
• James Connolly
• John Connolly
• Doug Wright
• Carberry O’Shea Jr.
• Paul Wilson
• Rhett Sturman
• Squirt Aherne
• Mike Fitzgerald
• Stick O’Brien
• Bob McGuinn
• Robin Wright

BONUS: The Awesome Invaders of the 1960’s. NO VOTING NEEDED:

Barry Wetherall (FH)
Billy Newman (FH)
Dana Wallace (O.B.)



The 1970’s and 1980’s:

• Bobby "Turtle" Cerveny
• Mark Heller
• Noel Feustel
  
• Dick Latham
• Chris Boyman
• Michael Bernstein
  
• John Zaccaro Sr.
• Rudy Schott
  
• Kevin Braddish
  
• Mel Beckel
  
• Kevin Cunningham
  
• Chris Wright
  
• Charley Shaw
  
• Dan Klagsbrun
• Jonathan “Herc” Maier
  
• Jon Lyon
  
• Terry "Tubes" McGowan
  
• Mike McAllsiter Sr.
  
• John Standard
• Hillay Farber
• Tim Scanlan
• Robin Wright
• Danny Weinlandt
• Allen Aherne
• Dennis Keane
• Hank Bjorklund
  
• John Starkey
  
• Jeff Heller
  
• Todd Wright
  
• Bill Cunningham
  

1990-present:

• Tom "I" Sconzo
  
• Jon Metzler
• Brian Bier
• Harold Weinzweig
• Andy McAllister
• Ken "OI" Savelson
  
• Matt Newman
  
• John "Zuke"Zaccaro Jr.
• Ronnie Rudzin
• Lisa Jacobson
• Pete Starkey
  
• Paul Kahn
• Chris Clarkin
• Dougie Rosabella
• Andy Lipsitz
  
• Peter Hull
• Andy Macs
  
• Andy Sosa
• Teddy Nagangast
  
• Steve Carroll
  
• Steve Mathis
  
• NickyDolan
  
• Jeremy Mindich
  
• Mark Valente
• Matt Sirovich
  
• Adam Kupersmith
  
• John Goldberg
  
• Dave Mederrick
  
• Danny Rappaport
• Jeff Heller
  
• Todd Wright
  
• Ben Berman
• Sam Mathias
  
• Jon Cucci
• Chris Wright
• Robin Wright
  

SPECIAL HONORARY VOTES

SPECIAL VOTE: WRITE IN YOUR VOTES FOR "BEST NICKNAME" FOR ANY BALL PLAYER WHO EVER PLAYED IN LEAGUE, REGARDLESS OF WHETHER THEY ARE ON ONE OF THE ABOVE LISTS











SPECIAL VOTE: WRITE IN YOUR VOTE FOR "LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENT" AWARDS FOR ANYONE ASSOCIATED WITH THE SALTAIRE SOFTBALL IN ANY WAY WHO HAS MADE SIGNIFICANT AND LONG LASTING CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE EXPERIENCE OF THE SALTAIRE SOFTBALL SCENE.




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DERF FONTANALS
JIM O'HARE

EDITORS



WE REPORT YOU DECIDE

SALTAIRE38.BLOGSPOT.COM

HAPPY NEW YEAR, BUT SUPPOSE THEY HAD A CENTENNIAL AND NOBODY CARED????

THE YEAR 2010 MARKS THE START OF THE SECOND CENTURY OF SALTAIRE. YET NOBODY EVER CELEBRATED ITS CENTENNIAL IN 2009.

COLLECTIVE AMNESIA?

IN CASE ANYONE FORGOT, THINGS STARTED UP IN 1910:

"IT HAS OFTEN BEEN SAID THAT 1910 MARKS THE BEGINNING OF THE HISTORY OF OUR COMMUNITY. FOR IN September OF THAT YEAR, THE ORGANIZERS OF THE FIRE ISLAND DEVELOPMENT COMPANY GAVE THE NAME OF SALTAIRE TO THAT PART OF THE GREAT SOUTH BEACH WHICH HAD BEEN DESIGNATED AS THE FIFTH LOT OF THE PARTITION OF 1878."

---Francis V. Goggins, "The Great South Beach Before 1910," in History of the Incorporated Village of Saltaire, Fire Island, N.Y., by Ruth Bryan Dobie, Saltaire Village Historian.

Even though the first Saltaire houses were not built until 1911 (Goggins, supra), there was plenty of speculative buying in 1910. See The South Shore News for December 30 1910:

----South Shore News, Dec. 30, 1910

We need lots of research for Saltaire38.blogspot.com. Was Saltaire in the early days a boondoggle? Why were there repeated auctions for the land? Why were virtually all the houses built along the ocean washed away well before 1938? Does anyone know when they first got electricity in Saltaire? How about telephones? Where was the casino? What happened to the houses adjacent to the Casino? How many homes still have old gas lines used for lighting? Did anyone know that an explosion in the acetylene gas shed blew a worker through the wall?

Like, if we don't do it, nobody will.

Anyone plan any commemorations?

Does anyone care?

Frank Mina cares:

According to "Mother Knows Best", electricity was installed in Saltaire during the winter of 1937-38. Their house (n/w/c/ West & Lighthouse) had power for the summer of '38 and they got rid of the kerosene lamps. They never had acetylene in their neck of the woods, but she used to meet the freight boat to buy kerosene and haul it back to the farthest reaches of the Village-- female child labor, oh my! That summer, my grandfather had Mike Coffey install windows to enclose the front porch and he purchased a new green electic stove. The family went to the beach the weekend before the hurricane and Poppy agreed to pay Mike, mom thinks $190, for the windows the following weekend. Well, he did pay Mike although the house was gone. They rented the Marschalk house on Broadway for the summer of 39 and perchased the McKevitt house in April of 1940. All the acetylene fixtures were there, although the plant was long gone.Patterson told me of the "explosion" of the acetylene plant and that a worker had been "blown out of the shed, but not seriousy hurt. When the plant was dismantled, a section of the big tank was used to pour the base for the new flagpole at 4 Bay Prom. The pole was one of the topmasts of the Hugomont. Since the house originally belonged to Loucks. President of the FIBDC, I guess he had the pull.

Jim & Derf,Correction: "Hougomont" (You can always pull the pix from my website for nostalgia, even if you used it before).Addendum: The anchor in front of our house is also shown in the photo.The casino is shown clearly if you enlarge the photo of the 1928 auction. It occupied the entire block between Broadway and Neptune. You can see the distintive "Hilton" house to the east and the shelter over Broadway to the west. According to mom, the casino did not burn down, but had become dilapidated and was further damaged in '38. She believes that it was demolished but that the debris may have been burned at the site.I remember our phones being installed as a teenager. I'm sure we had one of the first because it allowed my grandfather to stay in touch with his hospitals (and lengthen his vacations) We had Fire Island 4-5999R Party Code 8. No dials, just the switch-hook to get the operator. And you knew every busy-body on your party line.

January 2, 2010 3:21 PM

January 2, 2010 4:35 PM

THINK ABOUT THAT STORY

Think about that story.

Remember that idea that has been rolling around in your head for the last 20 years?

You know, the one you have always been meaning to put in writing but you never have?

In these last 20 years we have all done at least 20 million useless and totally forgettable things, but we never sat down to memorialize a couple of those unforgettable things.

Just a couple of sentences can do it.

You have known people from Saltaire you will remember all your life. You saw things happen, had experiences you will remember all your life. You have Googled to try to find some of those old friends you lost touch with.

Let us hear about those things. You will be amazed to see how your memories stir up the memories of others. Exponentially.

Some people worry that they don’t want to embarrass themselves. Not to worry. This is not True Confessions We don’t dwell on gossip, and we don't want you to dreg up stuff you don't want. Your regular, everyday experiences are a lot more interesting than you realize, especially when you see that a lot of people remember the same stuff, but always from a slightly different perspective.



One of our best stories was Brian Scott's story about cutting his foot on the boardwalk:

http://saltaire38.blogspot.com/search?q=pancakes

That story is not up there in world literature alongside War and Peace, but it is up there in the memories of anybody who ever walked around Saltaire.

That’s what we need. Drop us your words, any time. You’ve been meaning to write down that story for years, but you never did it. Do it now. We will love to hear from you.

You have our e mails:

Gfontanals@bhshamptons.com

Johareny@aol.com

Today's Teams Could not Touch These Guys

Click to enlarge close up

Four of the men in the front row of the bleachers in 1959 could play with and beat any team playing in Saltaire today. And these are just a few of the great players from the 1950's that could dominate today.

They include from left: Ed Weinlandt; Jack Thorp. Fifth from left: Bill Weinlandt. Seventh from left: Bob Marks.

THE RETURN OF THE MCMANI

THEY WERE ONE OF THE OLDEST SALTAIRE FAMILIES.

THEY WERE ONE OF THE BIGGEST OF THE SALTAIRE CLANS.

THE MCMANI WERE AMONG THE GREATEST CONTRIBUTORS TO SALTAIRE HISTORY, GOVERNMENT, PERSONALITY, FRIENDSHIP AND WELL BEING.

THEY HELPED SHAPE SALTAIRE INTO THE BEST OF WHAT IT WAS AND STILL IS.

AFTER FLORENCE PASSED AWAY THERE WAS A VOID, BOTH FOR SALTAIRE AND FOR THE MCMANUS CLAN.

BUT ALL THAT WILL CHANGE- CHANGE UTTERLY AS WE HAVE RECONTACTED THE CLAN AND THEY PROMISE TO KEEP IN TOUCH WITH ALL OF US AT SALTAIRE38.BLOGSPOT.COM

WELCOME BACK MCMANI

HERE ARE THREE POSTS: POSTS: FIRST FROM DIANE, THEN FROM RICHARD, THEN FROM STEVE:

DIANE McMANUS WRITES:

On 6/28/08, Diane McManus <dpmcmanus50@yahoo.com> wrote:
Hi all--The Saltaire blog is great--cool pix and a gold mine of memories! Thanks, Jim for doing this! And thanks, Pat, for alerting us to it! I too see Saltaire as a kind of home. I remember a quote from Lawrence Durrell's Alexandria Quartet (can't remember which novel it was in). Clea asks the old sailor Scobie, "Do you miss the sea?" And he says, "Every night I put to sea in my dreams." I always somehow connected that sentiment to my feelings about Saltaire.I have a hard time narrowing down a single story...Below is my contribution...Jim, feel free to edit if too long!good memories to all...Diane***Coming homeI'm another of Rich's younger sibs--second of the three sisters.It's hard to pick out any ONE memory because there are so many to choose from... This more a collage of memories, in no particular order:--Saturday night dances at the Yacht Club w/ kids bunny hopping out at the appointed time so adults could have some adult time (and we won't ask what they did with that time, heh heh!)--Watching the ferries come in and seeing people get off still wearing their "inland" clothes instead of swimsuits and bare feet--Eating ice cream on the dock and checking out the sailboat races... I actually got to be a crew member in one... can't remember the details, but as with Rich's story, I think I was a last-minute thing... someone said, "you want to join a crew?" and I thought "why not?" The boat I was in won, but I remember very few details about this--my goal was to stay out of the way, enjoy the trip, and do whatever the skipper told me to do. I can't say I contributed to the win, but perhaps I was a lucky charm or something.--After leaving the "classes" as the recreation program was called when we were kids, one day I took off with Deedee O'Shea--just the two of us... and spent the day at her place... just hanging out, making cookies with her, nothing too intense, just fun friend stuff, but I learned that my family was getting more and more worried because they didn't know where I was.--Charge accounts at the Saltaire market and candy store that didn't involve plastic cards--Hours on the beach with extended family, sometimes taking a dip, sometimes reading, sometimes talking....--Walking with Mom and Aunt Dot (Standard) to Ocean Beach--we had a wonderful time shopping and having lunch... then it started to rain... hard... so our trip back was by lateral ferry. Uncle John met us with rain jackets. (I forget how we contacted him... this was before cell phones. Maybe a stray gull?)--Speaking of rain, who can forget that sailing picnic (I seem to remember 1965)... scarcely any wind going out, lots of running aground until we finally reached Robert Moses State Park (was it called that at the time? I forget). The weather started to turn ugly as we headed back, and it was all we could do to hold on while the boat heeled so sharply that I thought we'd spill into the water... We made it back just barely before the sky opened up, the wind turned into a gale, and, safely inside, we watched as boats got pitched all over the place, including that tiny "Flitefish" Dad won in a raffle at the Yacht Club. That little boat didn't sail too easily, I remember, but its broken hull became useful as a raft after it broke apart.--Eating freshly caught fish on the deck of the Keegan house we rented... Dad was an avid fisherman!--Learning to swim... I was something of a scaredy-cat, but I think it was the desire to pass the treading water test for sailing that finally motivated me to get into deep water, first w/ a life preserver (and I thank whoever thought of that idea) then without. I knew how to swim at the time, but always had this crazy thought that the water would swallow me and I'd forget everything I learned once in deep water. Not long after this life preserver exercise, I decided to venture into deep water on my own (well, not entirely... it was during regular swimming hours in the bay). Some boys were on the dock near where I was swimming and yelled at me to stop splashing their friend who had a cast on his foot. Then one of the boys jumped in, shoved me underwater and held me there for what felt like an eternity. You would have thought such an experience would keep me out of deep water for good, but it had the opposite effect. Instead, I realized that I wouldn't automatically drown when swimming in deep water--even when, it seemed, someone was trying to drown me. I don't remember putting all this in words at the time, but the sense was that if I could survive that, I could survive anything the water could throw at me. I came to love diving under and looking up at the sun-dappled surface from below. I even made my peace with some ocean swimming.And the swimming memory was what motivated my participating last year--yes, I was on Fire Island that recently... time didn't allow a visit to Saltaire, unfortunately--in the 5.25 mile Maggie Fischer Memorial Cross-Bay Swim. I heard about the swim two years earlier during a visit to Saltaire for a memorial service for David Standard. I had done a one-mile ocean swim in NJ, and when I first heard of the cross-bay swim, I was put off... way too long. But the idea took root, and again (as when I was invited aboard to crew in a sailboat race), I thought "why not?" I was fit, I had run marathons, why shouldn't I be able to do this swim?For me, it was like a homecoming--and yet a whole new world--swimming across a bay I'd crossed so many times by ferry. (Rich teased me... said, "you CAN take the ferry, you know.") ;) Interestingly, the whole time, I was never afraid. Seasick the last couple miles yes, but not afraid. After the swim, I wrote my story about it for the Fire Island News. Those of you who departed at the end of August may have missed the story b/c it was published in the last issue of 2007 (Sept. 3[?]). An unabridged version appears in my (needing to be updated) blog, You might find interesting also another Fire Island related blog being kept by Rob Roos, another cross-bay swimmer and Saltaire resident: http://crossbayswimforum.blogspot.com/This blog contains some very interesting material not only on swim history but on Fire Island history.As for me, although I'm not doing the Cross-Bay swim this year, I do hope to do it again within the next few years. It's a truly amazing experience! And I definitely hope to make many more visits to SaltaireThanks again for this blog that's awakened so many memories!

Diane

RICHARD MCMANUS WRITES FROM MASSACHUSETTS:

Great blog! Great memories!

Thanks for doing this. My family all feels to this day as though Saltaire was our home. The fact that we never go there any more is a bit weird, but there it is. Without Florence it has never seemed the same to any of us. I still have Jane, Florence's last cat, who still thinks she is feral though she sleeps on top of us and runs around 'cloaked' so as to torture our oversize German Shepherd.

Here's a memory, but I will have to hunt some to find any pictures. We DO have them somewhere, and Pete has digitized many of my Dad's pictures, which like Stilgebauer's, were truly excellent.

I recall a sailboat race sometime in the early 60's when my regular crew--the very beautiful Leslie Dunsieth--was unable to crew. Had to go back to America or something awful like that. Someone else was going to sail and couldn't, and Larry Pfoh, who was my crew for several years must have been away.

So I got to the dock with the boat and realized there was no one around who I had ever sailed with--and also no one who COULD sail. Some reasonable person (an adult of all things) mentioned that Jimmy was on the dock and might be willing to sail. I pouted for a while, but of course I was going to be happy to sail with JOH even if he never had sailed before. Mostly sailing is pulling ropes after all, and by that time it had become clear to me that being strong enough to pull ropes properly was more important than advanced education.

But by the time my tantrum was over the other boats were sailing off and down the course and we were still getting aboard the Mercury to race. We must have started four minutes (or more) behind the others.

However the boat was an excellent boat and JOH did a great job of learning the 'ropes' and we moved pretty quickly along. However it was clear we would need more speed to catch up. I decided that JOH would have to drive the boat so I could set the spinnaker. So we switched roles and I set the red spinnaker and JOH steered the boat. There was a very lively breeze and we kept moving up on the other boats. It was a great feeling as the Mercury is NOT usually a high performance boat but with the spinnaker it had possibilities.

After we took the spinnaker back down the boat seemed possessed and we kept catching up with the others, outpointing them to the next mark and going MUCH faster. We passed them without ever getting near to anyone else, and we wound up winning the race quite comfortably. It was great fun and JOH turned out to be an excellent helmsman.

I don't think we ever sailed together again (Leslie was much cuter) but it was one of the most enjoyable sailboat races I ever sailed. I was so hooked on sailing that I often missed everything else going on in Saltaire. I played a little basketball and some mediocre softball when anyone needed a player, but it seems to me I did play some serious hearts with JOH, Johnny Glasscock, Beaver and Danny.

A couple of summers I taught sailing and one summer I worked for the town burning trash at the incinerator and hammering nails as needed. Start the incinerator on a rainy day by throwing a couple of tires in there first....

more to come. You said one story is needed as a basic contribution.

RICHARD MCMANUS

NOT TO BE OUTDONE, STEVE CHIMES IN:

Awesome! Thanks, it's great to see and read all that.

I am Rich's younger brother (everyone seems to know or remember him), Florence's nephew, Charlie's cousin...One of the multitude of McManuses that have wandered onto the Saltaire stage over the years.

You asked about memories. The best ones are hard to put a time or event onto - sitting by the bay, watching the sun set, letting the surf wash up on your ankles and having your feet gradually settle into the sand, wasting a whole day sailing, things like that.

But I do have a few vivid recollections. I was at the bay helping to scrape the bottom of someone's sailboat the day the water tower was demolished. We were half way watching it, we looked away, looked back and it was gone.

Another was the very windy day that a sea plane tried to take off into a cross wind and flipped over right off the dock out past the swimming area. That was a sight to see - it was obvious that the pilot was struggling and maybe not real experienced in taking off from that area. He was way to close in, a gust just flipped him right over in less time then it took to write this.

Another fun memory was a time that me, Charlie and Rich spent the day body surfing when the surf was up and rough, maybe in the early/mid 90s. Waves were running six to eight feet tall and we could not make ourselves leave the water, but after a while we were just too tired to do any more. Rich headed back to the house; Charlie and I hung for a while, standing right where the soft dry sand ended, and a steep drop off back to the water started. As we were looking out on the ocean, we saw two freak waves coming in. They must have been 15 or 20 feet tall. People in the water were in a panic - most of them swam out to meet them (much smarter than trying to get to shore). The waves broke and water shot up the embankment, the water getting airborne and flying all the way to the base of the dunes, at least 75 feet or so behind us, ruining cell phones, Sunday papers, books and magazines and soaking everyone. The second wave followed right behind and gave a repeat performance of the first. I'm 54 and have been going to Saltaire and beaches in general since I was a newborn and I never saw anything like that before or since.

But the best memories were the people. Florence and Ted - I still think of them almost every day. All my friends from when I was just a young child - when we happen to run into each other, we talk like we just saw each other last week. And of course my parents, brothers and sisters, cousins, aunts and uncles...And of course my parents, brothers and sisters, my wife Jan, my kids, cousins, aunts and uncles...

Great times.

Steve McManus

Elisabeth Elkind: Saltaire's Finest Observer.

Elisabeth Elkind, 1956  to 2018. Saltaire's  Perceptive  Observer.

Back in 1970, a Saltaire Planning Commission report on the state of the Village commented that a trustee should be delegated as a liaison with the Fire Island News to ensure publication of matters affecting homeowners. "It is ironic," the report stated, "that more news of Saltaire is covered via a children's newspaper than in the Fire Island News."

That “children's newspaper” The Salty Spray, was started in 1968 by then 11-year-old Elisabeth Elkind. But the Planning Commission didn't really get it right. The Salty Spray was written and edited by Elisabeth and a bunch of girls, but was never just a “children's newspaper.” Over five summers The Salty Spray covered everything from kids cutting their feet to sessions of the Saltaire Village Court; from news about day camp and sailing races, to Saltaire history; to village births, marriages, and deaths and everything in between. In fact, in the 110 years of Saltaire history there has been no better chronicler of Saltaire day-to-day life than Elisabeth Elkind's The Salty Spray.

Years later, Elizabeth would write "we were emboldened by the experience of newspaper reporting. We became comfortable knocking on the doors of adult strangers (in twos and threes), our notebooks and pencils in hand, to ask them for personal information and quotable statements. Did nobody mind finding himself in print, tangled in a bicycle and off the boardwalk? “

They ran catchy headlines like:

“Cunningham Hijacked to Cuba”

“Mrs. Lyon Writes Book”

“Storm Hits Saltaire”

“Mrs. Bitzer Talks of Travel”

“Build Castles in Sand”

“Fresh Air Funders Return”

“Its a Bloody Story”

“Girls Picket Boys” "Maura Corrigan, Sally Disipio and Kim Ludlow recently picketed the boys who would not let them play football. They marched through the field with a sign and, when thrown off, yelled about women's rights from their bicycles. Finally the boys gave in and four boys played four girls in football. The boys won 6 to 4.

The Salty Spray had straight reporting as well as observations that would do Dorothy Parker proud:

“On Saturday, July 6 the married men played the single men in a game of touch football. This paper cannot report the final score since the two sides could not agree on what happened.”

“Who does the wash?”

"Interested in how Saltaire husbands handle their laundry problems when their wives are at the beach, The Salty Spray has interviewed a number of summer bachelors. "Mort Elkind, Larry Marcus, Sid Rappaport and Dick Starkey all bring their dirty clothes out to Saltaire in attache cases for their wives to wash. Mort Elkind and Harry Scanlan move from bed to bed in their winter houses as the sheets get dirty. Fred Shapiro said "I wash my own God damn dainties.” When he needs clean sheets, he buys them.

Bert Pogrebin commutes to Saltaire every night and he has no summer laundry problems. His wife, strong in Women's Lib, says that she handles it "because he doesn't ask me.”

From:

“WHAT TO WEAR AT THE OLD BALL GAME”


“On Sunday, July 27, (1969) at 3 p.m., just half an hour late, a roaring game of softball was played by the women of the west side of Saltaire against the women living on the east side of town.
The captain of the east side was Marie Bitzer. 
Before the game started, her team assembled at Mary Jane Scanlan’s house. There is a rumor that whisky sours were served.

The captain of the west side players was Florence McManus and she invited her teammates to her house. More rumors.
Before the game started, two east side children, Steve and Susan LeMay, armed with pads and pencils, tried to spy on the west side women—to learn their strategy.
When the teams met at 3 p.m., catcher Mary Jane Scanlan of the east brought her raft. Pitching to her was Grace Gallagher. First Lady Virginia O’Brien caught for the west side and Joan Gowan pitched.

Virginia O’Brien wore red long-johns and a “Queen Elizabeth” sailor hat. Her pigtails were tied with a rope. Claire Marcus wore a football shirt numbered “21”, sweat pants and a sailor hat. Marion Scott wore a baseball shirt numbered “32”, baseball pants and navy blue knee socks.
Anne Reilly wore a pair of old fashioned men’s pajamas with a red and blue striped shirt. Her hair was braided and beribboned.
Georgie Hull wore boys’ pajamas, a sailor hat and old men’s sneakers. 

Florence McManus wore a blue Snoopy sweatshirt, a pair of old golf pants and an old golf hat.

Peggy Cunningham wore long blue jeans, her son’s track shoes and unmatched sun glass lenses. Rita Connelly wore an old lady’s dress, yellow bonnet, old men’s sneakers. She sat in a rocking chair to bat, knit, smoked a corncob pipe, and had to be pulled around in a wagon. She made a tremendous hit which led her team to the victory the west side claims.

As we reported, the West side says it won.”  

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note: 

It seems to me that the most remarkable thing about Elisabeth's writing and editing (and I am not sure who authored each of the above quotes) is that in the 110 years of Saltaire's existence no other journal has given us such an accurate picture of everyday life in Saltaire in any particular time period.

And when you read Elisabeth's stuff you realize how she got one thing 100 percent right: The uniqueness of Saltaire is that when you're in Saltaire as a kid, as a grown up, or anything in between, you don't just know your best friends: you know whole families. You know a whole community. You know your best friend. But you also know, swim with, sail with, play ball with, grow up with his or her brothers and sisters. You know their fathers and mothers. Saltaire is a collection of whole families living in the same place at the same time. And you knew them all. And there were not a whole lot of secrets.

Elisabeth Elkind and her crew of Muppets painted this picture vividly over five precious summers, 1968-1972. And she put it all together with writers like India Ely, Betty Galt, Leslie Gowan, Jane Marcus, Barbara Jones. Mom Charlotte Elkind was “Editorial Adviser.”

Elisabeth Elkind, rest in peace. Your work as a kid and early teenager make you one of Saltaire's finest historians ever. And you left The Salty Spray for generations to read and appreciate and understand the way we were. Rest in peace, Elisabeth. Rest in peace.

--JO'H