Atlantic City historian Allen ‘Boo’ Pergament writes about the Atlantic City Boardwalk he sees when walking down the famed wooden way — Part 1.
All photos courtesy of the Atlantic City Free Public Library
ATLANTIC CITY — One had only to take a “stroll” on the Atlantic City Boardwalk to have a wonderful and eventful time without spending anything!
You could begin anywhere, but let’s start in the Inlet section at Capt. Starn’s. There you could watch the sailboats, sightseeing cruisers, speedboats, and fishing excursions leave and dock. The outside lobster tanks, the whale’s rib, and the lighthouse wishing well were wondrous sights. Watching the seals being fed was always enjoyable. As you left Capt. Starn’s you could see the trolley barns next door while you stepped onto the northern end of the Boardwalk.
A short distance away was Hackney’s World Famous Seafood Restaurant. As you passed you could see as many as 3,200 diners chomping away at a fabulous feast. Continuing on, you would pass the Atlantic Avenue concrete pavilion, the Coast Guard tower at Oriental Avenue and the white iron-framed lighthouse (which replaced the original Absecon Lighthouse in 1933 when it was decommissioned) at New Hampshire Avenue.
A little farther along at Massachusetts Avenue was the Heinz 57 Free Exhibition Peer. There you could sit in the granite rock wishing seat, watch the live cooking demonstration or film, and be offered some Heinz products such as juice, pickles or soup. And don’t forget the famous Heinz “free pickle pin.” You could then walk onto Garden Pier and enjoy the beautiful floral displays. As you passed some of the many storefronts, you would look in the windows of either an antique or palm reader’s shop for pictures that were optical illusions. One was of two beautiful ladies and a gentleman dressed in their finest, but if you stared at it you could also see a huge face of a donkey!
Passing by the Globe Theatre, it didn’t cost anything to get a “glimpse” of their entertaining stars. Further along, you would stop at the modern looking interior of the Sodamat and watch as people pushed a button for their favorite flavor, see a cup automatically fall into place and quickly fill up to the brim with their selection, never overflowing or tipping over. On the ocean side of the Boardwalk, below on the beach, were the popular sand artists rapidly drawing sketches of observers.
At the World Famous Steel Pier was the exciting General Motors Exhibit featuring the “automobile of tomorrow” in the show window, along with a dozen or so of the next year’s model cars. Another feature was the stainless steel ball perpetually bouncing on a large scientifically configured base. You would be greeted across the way by genial, silent Mr. Peanut gently waving his cane. Walking by Planter’s Peanut Store, the aroma of freshly roasted peanuts seemed to be pulling you inside.
You could also stop at Mammy’s Restaurant and stare in amazement at the production of donuts in the front window. At one end, two pieces of raw dough would be plopped onto a series of little oval metal grates linked together and in motion. They would carry the donuts-to-be through the cooking oil. As it reached the other end of the front window, they would automatically be flipped over for the return trip on their other side. At the end they would be taken to the hungry patrons or for public sale. At Pennsylvania Avenue was the “kitchen gadget” salesman hawking his wares as to the size, shape, and design of the indestructible plastic knife, etc. Watching him perform was like watching an artist at work!
(Part Two of this story will appear in the July 14 edition of Atlantic City Weekly and on acweekly.com).
From the early days of the city through the 1950s, the Inlet was a solid working-class neighborhood buttressed by summer rentals and home to many of the city’s workers.
The famed wooden way can boast not only a rich history but a promising future as well. Originally commissioned solely to keep beachgoers from tracking sand into oceanfront hotels and railroad cars, Atlantic City’s Boardwalk has grown into a highway of entertainment and one of the country’s most noteworthy shore-side playgrounds.
At Missouri Avenue, for many years, was the carnival-looking stand of the “weight guesser.” If he didn’t guess your weight within three pounds, after you stepped on his huge scale, you received one of the many prizes displayed.
From the cupola atop his three-story house in the village of Absecon, the doctor could see the barrier island thick with bugs and bayberry bushes across the beachfront. Earlier in the day, he had made an infrequent visit there, calling on the island's seven residences to attend to any medical needs. Now, as streaks of orange-rimmed dark blue clouds across the twilight sky, he gazed at the horizon from his lofty vantage point. From there, he could reach out and touch the future. What Jonathan Pitney saw in 1850 was the still undeveloped island that the Lenape Indians had named Absegami ("Little Sea Water"), but what he envisioned was a city by the sea, the queen of resort towns. Cape May was already a well-established destination. Why not Absecon Island? The M.D. had ambition beyond dressing wounds and delivering babies; he owned 500 inland acres and wasn't averse to speeding his return on investment. He had been born in Morris County, NJ in 1797 and arrived on horseback in Absecon at age 21, in retrospect an almost mythical figure, tall and angular with penetrating eyes, a flowing mane, and saddlebags stuffed with medical supplies. The area needed a sawbones, and Pitney soon...
When Atlantic City was Broadway's premier tryout town, the Apollo Theatre hosted much of the action. It was the Roaring Twenties, and the local stage regularly featured the dramatic, comedic, and musical stars of American theater: the Barrymores, W.C Fields, Al Jolson, Fred Astaire. But well before that, the Apollo and its predecessor at New York Avenue and the Boardwalk offered the paying customers all manner of popular and classical entertainment. The life cycle of performing arts at this site, in fact, played out like a grand show marked by high drama, farce, rich melody, and tragedy. Shakespeare would have been proud. At first, fire was a far greater threat than a fickle public or any theater critic. The original concert hall here, the Academy of Music, rose in 1892 and promptly burned to the ground within days of its scheduled premiere. It took only six weeks to rebuild the Academy, which finally opened with an exhibition of horses, and presented mostly novelty acts for the next six years until fire again leveled it. Two seashore business titans - saltwater taffy king Joseph F. Fralinger and pier impresario John L. Young - had been the principal backers of the Academy, but Young had...
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In an era of reality TV and the cult of celebrity, we may find it difficult to fathom that a Miss America winner once fled from the spotlight at the very moment of her triumph. The pageant was more parochial back in 1937, when 17-year-old Bette Cooper emerged from a beauty contest in Lake Hopatcong, NJ as "Miss Bertrand Island" with a ticket to Atlantic City. She was an athletic, innocent, apple-cheeked blonde unprepared for the glare of publicity. They poured into town by rail, 51 aspiring Miss Americas with titles such as Miss Eastern Shore and Miss Buckeye Lake. The pageant assigned volunteer young men to chauffeur contestants in those days, and Bette Cooper drew 22-year-old Lou Off, whose father Frank owned the Brighton Hotel and a nursery business in Linwood. Off the Younger lived at the hotel and drove a maroon Buick Special convertible to work at his father's Brighton Farms. That Buick would soon turn from touring car to getaway car. Bette and her family settled into the Lafayette Hotel, and the high schooler stepped gingerly into the pageant's press luncheons and nightly competition. She was well versed in tennis, basketball, and churchgoing, but not in the brazen arts...
� The Black Honus Wagnerl � The school lawn sloped down to the Indiana Avenue sidewalk, the grass gangly and uneven and begging for a trim. An old man was pushing a mower, and the lumps he negotiated reminded him of some of the balky infields he'd mastered. He tugged the brim of his cap a notch lower on his forehead to seal off the late-day sun and chugged forward, severed strips of grass flying out through the churning blades. He could close his eyes and not lose his way - so sure his balance even now - and when he did, he saw chalked lines bordering a larger expanse, and grandstands that rose from the dirt beyond. The street noise vanished and he heard only the whoosh of sliding spikes and the pop of a thrown baseball speared by a leather mitt. When an embedded rock brought the mower to a rude halt, the old man woke from his reverie. He removed his cap and used the back of his hand to chase sweat from his forehead. A large hand, well-suited to gripping a pale yellow bat or pegging clothesline throws across the diamond. And at this moment, something rare...
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1. HeatherP said... on Jul 7, 2011 at 11:14AM
“Thank you, Boo, for sharing your fantastic memories so willingly. You bring the old to light in a way that helps us all experience it more richly.”
2. JoAnne R. said... on Aug 3, 2011 at 09:54AM
“I enjoy reading or listening to others share their memories of Atlantic City. I had the pleasure of meeting Boo years ago at the Atlantique City show during an exhibition of the fabulous 30 some foot model of AC bulit by a priest whose name escapes me right now. I wonder what ever happened to that model??? I was lucky to get a copy of an olf film of a electric rolling chair passing in front of one of the Sodamats on the boardwalk with a glimpse inside. This one was furthr south than the one located by the Globe Theatre. The time I spent in AC during the 40's, 50's and 60's were some of the best in my life.”
3. Anonymous said... on Nov 3, 2011 at 03:09PM
“I remember a few years walking the boards with my parents and brother and watching all the ladies high heels get stuck inbetween the boards. b
”