A TRAGEDY THAT STARTED IN BARNEGAT LIGHT: The story I'm about to recount started in Barnegat Light NJ around 1960 as clearly as I can recall. My brother Joe was captain of a tanker and was at sea for 90 days, then off for 30. Joe purchased a cottage in Barnegat Light on 12th St., ocean side. My mother, sister Fran and I had use of the cottage when he was at sea.
It was off season, September or early October on a weekend when my mother and Fran were on the island. It was a pleasant sunny day with a bit of chill in the air. They were on the beach with their backs to a san dune watching the surf fishermen and the seagulls squawking for a hand out. One of the fishermen laid down his rod and approached Mom and Fran. He said his name was Clew and he struck up a conversation, saying he was an airline pilot and flew out of New York. He had his own private airplane that he kept at the airport and flew to Barnegat Light to fish every time he was off duty. He had a special compartment built in the wing where he stored his fishing rod. He had a red head stewardess girl friend named Susy. He was quite pleasant and impressed my mother and Fran.
As the air was a little chilly, my mother and Fran decided to pack up and return to the cottage. Clew said he was about to leave as he had to fly back to New York. He walked with them and when they reached the cottage, my mother invited him in for a cup of coffee. They chatted a bit and then he left. The following weekend I went down but my mother and Fran did not. When I went to open the screen door, there was a note stuck in it. I opened it and it read something like the following: "It's a beautiful day. I'm up on the beach. Hope to see you. Clew" When I returned home I gave Fran the note. She looked at it with a "humpth", crushed it and threw it in the waste basket.
Several days later we heard that a young girl had been murdered on the mainland opposite Long Beach Island. Fran went directly to the police and told them about the previous weekend. The police wanted that note in the worst way so Fran came home and looked in the basket but it was long gone. As I recall, the police had already arrested Clew, or did shortly. He was tried and convicted of first degree murder and sentenced to life in prison. (copyright 2014 Andrew M. Dolan)
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Monday, September 22, 2014
Nomad News-Vol.5-No.107
LONG BEACH ISLAND NJ: Long Beach Island is an 18 mile long and a few blocks wide strip of sand off the coast of New Jersey. The island is entered via a causeway from the mainland at Manahawkin. On the island end of the causeway is Surf City. At the lower end of the island is Beach Haven and at the northern end is Barnegat Light where I was a part time resident.
In Nomad News No. 71, Solitude, I wrote: "Not to be confused with loneliness or reclusion but a time to be alone because you want to be. When you can completely rest your mind and enjoy the beauty of being alive and having fun." I followed with several locations where I had enjoyed such solitude. I missed one:
Alone on the beach at Barnegat Light in the winter. While the sea sings a different verse than the forest, the melody is still the same. Stroll the beach and play tag with the incoming tide or sit with your back to a sand dune and count every fourth wave as it crashes or gently lets itself down on the preceding one. Talk to the sea and a seagull will answer because only you and nature are alone. (copyright 2014 - Andrew M.Dolan)
In Nomad News No. 71, Solitude, I wrote: "Not to be confused with loneliness or reclusion but a time to be alone because you want to be. When you can completely rest your mind and enjoy the beauty of being alive and having fun." I followed with several locations where I had enjoyed such solitude. I missed one:
Alone on the beach at Barnegat Light in the winter. While the sea sings a different verse than the forest, the melody is still the same. Stroll the beach and play tag with the incoming tide or sit with your back to a sand dune and count every fourth wave as it crashes or gently lets itself down on the preceding one. Talk to the sea and a seagull will answer because only you and nature are alone. (copyright 2014 - Andrew M.Dolan)
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Nomad News-Vol.5-No.106
Paris: I can't write flowery prose about Paris. Matter of fact, I'm not even a writer. I just scribble things down as they come into my wandering mind. All I can say is, there is something about Paris that, I believe, you won't find any place else on earth. at least, it was that way. It was a feeling of freedom as you strolled along the Seine and watched artists or wood-be artists, or sat under the Eiffel Tower and looked up through the towering maze of steel structure, or my favorite, sitting under the awning of an sidewalk cafe and drinking beer. The only thing that beats drinking beer in Paris, is drinking beer on a Canadian lake while watching the sun set.
I failed on my first attempt to visit Paris. It was 1943 and we were stationed about 40 kilometers south of Paris. It was a weekend and for some reason we were not flying any missions. I decided to visit Paris so I borrowed a bicycle and headed off. After a few kilometers I approached a demolished bridge and an arrow pointed left, reading "Paris 40 kilometers. Five or so kilometers and another demolished bridge with sign "Paris 40 kilometers". This went on a couple more times as I approached a small village. This was not a former combat area so I concluded that the Germans had demolished every bridge as they retreated. It was around noon time now and I thought a cool beer was in order. There was a gendarme on the corner so I approached him and with gestures and a few words, he got the message that I was thirsty. A woman came along and with a few words, the gendarme said I should follow her. I was expecting the destination would be a cafe. Instead of that, it was her home. She invited me in and I met the LeRoux family; her husband, Maud 17, and Pierre 8. The Mrs. gave me a glass of water and proceeded to show me around their property. There were rabbit pens and Pierre went over and touched each one with a few words. I thought they were his pets. After the tour they invited me to dinner the following day around noon. The next day I visited the Mess Sergeant and he loaded me down with oranges, sugar and some other items. When I arrived at the LeRoux home, they were overjoyed with my gifts, which were scarce or unavailable. When Mrs. LeRoux served dinner, it consisted of potatoes, some vegetable and small pieces of meat I did not recognize. It then came to me: rabbit. I believed I was eating Pierre's pet. I felt a little squeazy but then realized they were not pets at all. It was their main source of meat. I made two or three more visits to the LeRoux family before departing the area. My first visit to Paris was, following the cessation of hostilities in Braunsweig, Germany, I flew to Paris in a B-17 bomber for a week's furlough. I had wanted to go to Ireland and visit some of my relatives that I had never seen but I thought a bird in the hand was better than a bird in the bush. To pass the time, I crawled around the craft, trying to visualize the activity that ensued during a bombing run. I crawled back to Tailend Charlie's rear gun position and was glad I never ended up in a bomber squadron. If so, at 130 pounds and five foot six, this is where I would have ended up. I understand the tail gunners had to remove their parachutes in order to get into firing position. It was an enjoyable week. I came out from under the awning occasionally to roam the city and visit some historical sites.
One of my buddies in the 33rd Photo Reconnaissance Squadron was Floyd McRae from Atlanta, Georgia. After the war Floyd visited us on a number of occasions in Tennessee. We visited him and his home turned out to be a virtual Civil War Museum. Floyd suffered a tragedy in his family, followed later by divorce. Floyd remarried and the second wife, who I never met, thought Atlanta was "culturally illiterate". To her, the only two places to be were New York and Paris. Back to Paris. In addition to my war time visit, Yvette and I spent three days in Paris that included their Independence Day celebration, July 14. A lot of people had large cardboard periscopes that they could look over the heads in front of them. Yvette inquired as to where they were purchased. It was a small store about a block away and we were able to obtain the last two they had. They were really neat. Without them, we would have seen very little of the parade. It was reported that there were over 3000 Americans in Paris that day. (Copyright 2014 - Andrew M. Dolan)
I failed on my first attempt to visit Paris. It was 1943 and we were stationed about 40 kilometers south of Paris. It was a weekend and for some reason we were not flying any missions. I decided to visit Paris so I borrowed a bicycle and headed off. After a few kilometers I approached a demolished bridge and an arrow pointed left, reading "Paris 40 kilometers. Five or so kilometers and another demolished bridge with sign "Paris 40 kilometers". This went on a couple more times as I approached a small village. This was not a former combat area so I concluded that the Germans had demolished every bridge as they retreated. It was around noon time now and I thought a cool beer was in order. There was a gendarme on the corner so I approached him and with gestures and a few words, he got the message that I was thirsty. A woman came along and with a few words, the gendarme said I should follow her. I was expecting the destination would be a cafe. Instead of that, it was her home. She invited me in and I met the LeRoux family; her husband, Maud 17, and Pierre 8. The Mrs. gave me a glass of water and proceeded to show me around their property. There were rabbit pens and Pierre went over and touched each one with a few words. I thought they were his pets. After the tour they invited me to dinner the following day around noon. The next day I visited the Mess Sergeant and he loaded me down with oranges, sugar and some other items. When I arrived at the LeRoux home, they were overjoyed with my gifts, which were scarce or unavailable. When Mrs. LeRoux served dinner, it consisted of potatoes, some vegetable and small pieces of meat I did not recognize. It then came to me: rabbit. I believed I was eating Pierre's pet. I felt a little squeazy but then realized they were not pets at all. It was their main source of meat. I made two or three more visits to the LeRoux family before departing the area. My first visit to Paris was, following the cessation of hostilities in Braunsweig, Germany, I flew to Paris in a B-17 bomber for a week's furlough. I had wanted to go to Ireland and visit some of my relatives that I had never seen but I thought a bird in the hand was better than a bird in the bush. To pass the time, I crawled around the craft, trying to visualize the activity that ensued during a bombing run. I crawled back to Tailend Charlie's rear gun position and was glad I never ended up in a bomber squadron. If so, at 130 pounds and five foot six, this is where I would have ended up. I understand the tail gunners had to remove their parachutes in order to get into firing position. It was an enjoyable week. I came out from under the awning occasionally to roam the city and visit some historical sites.
One of my buddies in the 33rd Photo Reconnaissance Squadron was Floyd McRae from Atlanta, Georgia. After the war Floyd visited us on a number of occasions in Tennessee. We visited him and his home turned out to be a virtual Civil War Museum. Floyd suffered a tragedy in his family, followed later by divorce. Floyd remarried and the second wife, who I never met, thought Atlanta was "culturally illiterate". To her, the only two places to be were New York and Paris. Back to Paris. In addition to my war time visit, Yvette and I spent three days in Paris that included their Independence Day celebration, July 14. A lot of people had large cardboard periscopes that they could look over the heads in front of them. Yvette inquired as to where they were purchased. It was a small store about a block away and we were able to obtain the last two they had. They were really neat. Without them, we would have seen very little of the parade. It was reported that there were over 3000 Americans in Paris that day. (Copyright 2014 - Andrew M. Dolan)
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