Grand Finale Final Flashback
The morning after Labor Day 1964, the year before,
as the sun came up over Margate, Harry Anglemeyer was still sitting in his car
dead when an early morning Copper Kettle Fudge shop deliveryman passed by the
Dunes and saw Harry’s car in the empty parking lot and discovered his body.
Since the Egg Harbor Township police didn’t yet
exist, New Jersey State Police began the investigation and were all over the
crime scene while at the same time a Milkman pulled his truck off the side of
the Ocean City – Somers Point causeway on Cowpens Island and parked under a
tree to take inventory.
As the Milkman looked at his clipboard he was
distracted by some men arguing on the other side of the bushes about thirty
yards away by the boat ramp.
“He wasn’t supposed to die,” one of the clearly
said, “that doesn’t make any difference,” said another.
The Milkman recognized one of the men in a red and
white Ocean City High School football jersey as an Ocean City fireman he knew
in school, and while he didn’t know the names of the others he knew one was a
Bay Shores bartender, another was a bouncer at the Dunes and the fourth in a
suit and tie was the brother of an Ocean City police officer.
“Look at the blood on your shirt,” someone yelled,
“that’s evidence” he said as the red and white jersey came off and was thrown
in the bay waters
The Milkman turned the ignition of his truck and
quickly pulled out onto the nearly deserted causeway suddenly grabbing the
attention of the men, who didn’t know he was there, but just as he recognized
them, they knew who he was too.
The Milkman turned on the AM radio in the truck and
learned the breaking news that Ocean City fudge merchant Harry Anglemeyer had
been murdered, and from the next morning’s newspapers heard about the witness
who described a man in a suit and tie hitting Anglemeyer and three other men,
who were called “The Good Samaritans,” carried him to his car, and also took
his cash and diamond pinky ring. The State Police referred to the three men as
“persons of interest” and asked them to come forward, but they never did.
That night the Milkman got a threatening phone call
from the guy he knew as the fireman, but then the Milkman suddenly got a job he
had previously applied for as an Ocean City fireman, and kept his mouth shut.
He did write down and typed up the facts as he knew them and gave a copy to his
attorney in case anything ever happened to him, but nothing did and he retired
from the OCFD and died in Upper Township of natural causes.
The New Jersey State Police were the official investigators
eventually turn the case over to the Ocean City Police Department and the case
files disappeared as the brother of the man in the suit and tie rose in the
ranks and became chief of police while the policeman who “got the goods” on
Anglemyer became chief and then public safety commissioner for twenty years,
ensuring that Harry Anglemeyer’s case would never see justice or the light of
day.
Grand Finale Day One – The Prince
Arrives
Unlike the unassuming arrival of Princes Grace, Prince Rainier III of Monaco was greeted with much fanfare, and security, as a visiting head of state his bullet proof limo had a motorcycle escort that was given special dispensation by the governor to use the Atlantic City Expressway since motorcycles were prohibited from these state highways.
The Prince is an agreeable enough chap, the heir to a castle, kingdom and casino by the sea that’s guaranteed, secured and endorsed by the King of France in perpetuity, as long as there is a male heir, something Grace provided Rainier after two rambunctious daughters. One of Rainier's ancestors and his gang of thugs took over the Monaco castle in a coup and disguised as monks. Now, hundreds of years and dozens of generations later, the kingdom was passed to Rainier, who rather late in life met Grace Kelly – American actress was her byline then, while she was in Monaco making the Alfred Hitchcock movie.
Rainier first came to Ocean City to meet John B. Kelly and ask him for the hand of his daughter in marriage, and John B. leased a first class passenger steam ship to take his family and friends to Monaco for the storybook “Wedding of the Century,” as they called it.
Once in Ocean City the Prince was taken to a private residence on the beach that belonged to a friend and neighbor of the Kellys who was traveling overseas and offered his home to the Prince that afforded him much more privacy and security than the Kelly Compound that was overrun by the kids.
The Prince was met by John B. Kelly, Jr., Grace and Lizanne’s brother, who everyone called “Kell.”
Kell had been a Ocean City lifeguard on this very beach, rowed single and double sculls on the Schuylkill River, was a Silver medal Olympic champion and famously won the Diamond Sculls at Henley after his father was denied entry because he was a “working man” and not a “gentleman,” as a gentleman was considered in that era.
Like John B., Don Levine was a horseman, and Margaret - now the head of the household, was gym teacher at the University of Pennsylvania where she instituted most of the athletic programs for women.
The Prince cut muster as he too was a “Man’s Man,” unlike some of the other dates that Grace had brought home – like the gay fashion designer, who was shunned and ignored by the Kelly men.
The Prince on the other hand, was a betting sportsman who immediately won over the Kelly men by asking to go to the race track while the women were on the beach. Since John B. built the track, was co-owner (with Bob Hope, Hap Farley and Sonny Fraser) and Lizanne’s husband Don was a horseman and Steward at the track, the Prince was the guest of honor in the owner’s box at the Atlantic City Race Track.
While Lizanne and her sister and mother kept the kids and cousins busy back at the Kelly Clan Compound on the beach, Grace went to the track with her husband Prince Rainier, her brother Kell and brother in law Don Levine and Cousin John Lehman. The same group had gone together to the Kentucky Derby in May, flying on a private jet, keeping a John B. Kelly annual tradition, so they knew how to have a good time together and did. The Prince actually fit in well with this group and after a few drinks was just one of the guys, as was Grace.
The Prince took a liking to a particular jockey who went on to win six of the races that day, giving the Prince a nice payout, especially on two long shots his jockey came in to win, so the Prince picked up the tab at dinner at Zaberers restaurant that night.
“Good luck had just stung me, to the race track I did go. She bet on one horse to win and I bet on another to show. The odds were in my favor, I had ‘em five to one, when that Nag to win came around the track, sure enough she had won. I took up all my winnings, and gave my Bessie half, but she tore it up and threw it in my face just for a laugh.”
– “Up on Cripple Creek” – The Band
Unlike the unassuming arrival of Princes Grace, Prince Rainier III of Monaco was greeted with much fanfare, and security, as a visiting head of state his bullet proof limo had a motorcycle escort that was given special dispensation by the governor to use the Atlantic City Expressway since motorcycles were prohibited from these state highways.
The Prince is an agreeable enough chap, the heir to a castle, kingdom and casino by the sea that’s guaranteed, secured and endorsed by the King of France in perpetuity, as long as there is a male heir, something Grace provided Rainier after two rambunctious daughters. One of Rainier's ancestors and his gang of thugs took over the Monaco castle in a coup and disguised as monks. Now, hundreds of years and dozens of generations later, the kingdom was passed to Rainier, who rather late in life met Grace Kelly – American actress was her byline then, while she was in Monaco making the Alfred Hitchcock movie.
Rainier first came to Ocean City to meet John B. Kelly and ask him for the hand of his daughter in marriage, and John B. leased a first class passenger steam ship to take his family and friends to Monaco for the storybook “Wedding of the Century,” as they called it.
Once in Ocean City the Prince was taken to a private residence on the beach that belonged to a friend and neighbor of the Kellys who was traveling overseas and offered his home to the Prince that afforded him much more privacy and security than the Kelly Compound that was overrun by the kids.
The Prince was met by John B. Kelly, Jr., Grace and Lizanne’s brother, who everyone called “Kell.”
Kell had been a Ocean City lifeguard on this very beach, rowed single and double sculls on the Schuylkill River, was a Silver medal Olympic champion and famously won the Diamond Sculls at Henley after his father was denied entry because he was a “working man” and not a “gentleman,” as a gentleman was considered in that era.
Like John B., Don Levine was a horseman, and Margaret - now the head of the household, was gym teacher at the University of Pennsylvania where she instituted most of the athletic programs for women.
The Prince cut muster as he too was a “Man’s Man,” unlike some of the other dates that Grace had brought home – like the gay fashion designer, who was shunned and ignored by the Kelly men.
The Prince on the other hand, was a betting sportsman who immediately won over the Kelly men by asking to go to the race track while the women were on the beach. Since John B. built the track, was co-owner (with Bob Hope, Hap Farley and Sonny Fraser) and Lizanne’s husband Don was a horseman and Steward at the track, the Prince was the guest of honor in the owner’s box at the Atlantic City Race Track.
While Lizanne and her sister and mother kept the kids and cousins busy back at the Kelly Clan Compound on the beach, Grace went to the track with her husband Prince Rainier, her brother Kell and brother in law Don Levine and Cousin John Lehman. The same group had gone together to the Kentucky Derby in May, flying on a private jet, keeping a John B. Kelly annual tradition, so they knew how to have a good time together and did. The Prince actually fit in well with this group and after a few drinks was just one of the guys, as was Grace.
The Prince took a liking to a particular jockey who went on to win six of the races that day, giving the Prince a nice payout, especially on two long shots his jockey came in to win, so the Prince picked up the tab at dinner at Zaberers restaurant that night.
“Good luck had just stung me, to the race track I did go. She bet on one horse to win and I bet on another to show. The odds were in my favor, I had ‘em five to one, when that Nag to win came around the track, sure enough she had won. I took up all my winnings, and gave my Bessie half, but she tore it up and threw it in my face just for a laugh.”
– “Up on Cripple Creek” – The Band
Grand
Finale Day Two – Tido Mambo Performs a Riot
"Ole told me, I'm a fool
So I walked on down the road a mile
Went to the house that brings a smile
Sat upon my grandpa's knee
And what do you think he said to me?"
The Band's “When You Awake”
As the sun rose over the open ocean horizon, two sisters sat on the top steps that led to the beach at the far north end of the boardwalk, staring at the sun as it rose and failing once again to detect or photo the “blue flash” that has been documented and seen at Cape May Point’s Diamond Beach and Key West’s Fisherman’s War at sunset. They were conducting a scientific experiment to see if the “blue flash” can also be seen and documented by photo at sunrise.
Looking around they could see early beach goers setting out their blankets, college kids from the Dunes and other after hour joints already asleep, birdwatchers, metal detecting treasure hunters and some new comers straggling in from a hard night out.
With the sun safely up the girls begin to walk down the boardwalk back to their blanket at 9th Street next to the jetty where they will have ring side seats to the much anticipated appearance of Tide Mambo and the performance of miracles as well as a free concert by the Messiahs’ of Soul, one of Bay Shores’ hottest bands.
People arrived constantly so by 10 AM it was wall to wall beach blanket bingo, with lifeguard whistles and boat loud air horns sounding constantly.
Tido’s band was set up on the Music Pier balcony that overlooks the 9th Street beach, right next to the KYWTV3 News crew, where Tom Snyder was doing the daily weather broadcasts three times daily all weekend. The KYW TV3 helicopter would also make a pass, hover above and film the scene for posterity.
So I walked on down the road a mile
Went to the house that brings a smile
Sat upon my grandpa's knee
And what do you think he said to me?"
The Band's “When You Awake”
As the sun rose over the open ocean horizon, two sisters sat on the top steps that led to the beach at the far north end of the boardwalk, staring at the sun as it rose and failing once again to detect or photo the “blue flash” that has been documented and seen at Cape May Point’s Diamond Beach and Key West’s Fisherman’s War at sunset. They were conducting a scientific experiment to see if the “blue flash” can also be seen and documented by photo at sunrise.
Looking around they could see early beach goers setting out their blankets, college kids from the Dunes and other after hour joints already asleep, birdwatchers, metal detecting treasure hunters and some new comers straggling in from a hard night out.
With the sun safely up the girls begin to walk down the boardwalk back to their blanket at 9th Street next to the jetty where they will have ring side seats to the much anticipated appearance of Tide Mambo and the performance of miracles as well as a free concert by the Messiahs’ of Soul, one of Bay Shores’ hottest bands.
People arrived constantly so by 10 AM it was wall to wall beach blanket bingo, with lifeguard whistles and boat loud air horns sounding constantly.
Tido’s band was set up on the Music Pier balcony that overlooks the 9th Street beach, right next to the KYWTV3 News crew, where Tom Snyder was doing the daily weather broadcasts three times daily all weekend. The KYW TV3 helicopter would also make a pass, hover above and film the scene for posterity.
The authorities wouldn’t let the band play or even
let them turn on the microphone until they had a permit, and they kept putting
them off by saying that Tido had the permit and he would be arriving shortly,
and shortly he did.
While everyone, including the band expected him to arrive in the coffin in the black Hurst, when it arrived and they opened it Tido wasn’t there, but the noise from the crowd alerted them that he was coming in from somewhere, but practically everyone was surprised to see him waterskiing behind Chris’s Flying Cloud PT boat as it came into sight from behind the Music Pier – Tido in his Jesus Christ motif – waving with one had as he holds on to the speed boat with the other and then skiing close in to shore he lets go of the rope and glides in over one breaker and then rides another right into shore, without missing a beat.
As he walked in off the lapping surf he began to preach – “I am here to save you and to save rock and roll. I am here to save you from the bondage of commercialism and to save rock and roll from the greed and hypocrisy that has engulfed it.”
When people called out for the miracles, Tido said he will perform miracles, he will do some power of suggestion tricks Kreskin taught him at the Purple Dragon and cool things off by making people feel like they’re in a freezer, and suddenly the crowd began to shiver, and then he said with a wave of his hand, “the water in these flasks are now wine.”
About two dozen brown leather flasks were being passed around and one was grabbed by a cop who opened it and tasted it – “water,” he said almost disappointed, passing the flask on to the hippie chick who took it from him.
“What kind of wine?” Someone yelled,
“Whatever wine you prefer,” he said.
And the hippie chick, taking a swig, said “Cherry wine!”
And someone taking a sip from the same flask said, “Tastes like peach to me.”
And so it went, as the water was passed around, a public address system announced that “If Tide Mambo does not possess a legal permit he will have to cease and desist from performing or face arrest,” and Tido’s band turned on the sound system and began playing and Tido waved both hands at the crowd and told them to stay peaceful no matter what happened, as the riot squad appeared on the boardwalk and began heading down the steps to the beach.
“Do not respond with violence,” Tido said, “the men should stay put and the women should use their most effective weapon, their fingers and tickle the riot squad through the edges of their bullet proof vests and under their arms and in their stomachs and don’t stop until every riot squad officer is laughing uncontrollably.”
While everyone, including the band expected him to arrive in the coffin in the black Hurst, when it arrived and they opened it Tido wasn’t there, but the noise from the crowd alerted them that he was coming in from somewhere, but practically everyone was surprised to see him waterskiing behind Chris’s Flying Cloud PT boat as it came into sight from behind the Music Pier – Tido in his Jesus Christ motif – waving with one had as he holds on to the speed boat with the other and then skiing close in to shore he lets go of the rope and glides in over one breaker and then rides another right into shore, without missing a beat.
As he walked in off the lapping surf he began to preach – “I am here to save you and to save rock and roll. I am here to save you from the bondage of commercialism and to save rock and roll from the greed and hypocrisy that has engulfed it.”
When people called out for the miracles, Tido said he will perform miracles, he will do some power of suggestion tricks Kreskin taught him at the Purple Dragon and cool things off by making people feel like they’re in a freezer, and suddenly the crowd began to shiver, and then he said with a wave of his hand, “the water in these flasks are now wine.”
About two dozen brown leather flasks were being passed around and one was grabbed by a cop who opened it and tasted it – “water,” he said almost disappointed, passing the flask on to the hippie chick who took it from him.
“What kind of wine?” Someone yelled,
“Whatever wine you prefer,” he said.
And the hippie chick, taking a swig, said “Cherry wine!”
And someone taking a sip from the same flask said, “Tastes like peach to me.”
And so it went, as the water was passed around, a public address system announced that “If Tide Mambo does not possess a legal permit he will have to cease and desist from performing or face arrest,” and Tido’s band turned on the sound system and began playing and Tido waved both hands at the crowd and told them to stay peaceful no matter what happened, as the riot squad appeared on the boardwalk and began heading down the steps to the beach.
“Do not respond with violence,” Tido said, “the men should stay put and the women should use their most effective weapon, their fingers and tickle the riot squad through the edges of their bullet proof vests and under their arms and in their stomachs and don’t stop until every riot squad officer is laughing uncontrollably.”
Tido then turned around and picking up a rope on the
beach, waved to a small mahogany and teak Chris Craft, and was pulled over a
short breaker and off water-skiing away, waving as he went, leaving a crowd of
hypnotized and drugged college kids rolling in the sand with the twelve members
of the specially trained riot squad who were succumbed by the tickling fingers
of a bevy of teenagers and college coeds.
One of the girls unintentionally set off a canister of tear gas that sent beach goers scrambling, as the pile of heavily outfitted men and scantily clad girls made its way across the beach like tumbleweed in the wind.
One of the girls unintentionally set off a canister of tear gas that sent beach goers scrambling, as the pile of heavily outfitted men and scantily clad girls made its way across the beach like tumbleweed in the wind.
With all chaos breaking out on the beach and the
image of Tido Mambo in his Jesus Christ mode waving as he water skied away,
Pittsburgh Paul, on the Music Pier, grabbed the open microphone as the band
kept playing a solid rhythm and began reciting William Butler Yeats’ The Second
Coming.
“The Second Coming”:
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
The Federal Barbarian Task Force, who witnessed the whole spectacle from their upper floor Command Post above Shriver’s Candy Store, filmed it too, and concluded in their report that Tido Mambo had apparently utilized some group hypnotic routines he learned from another Purple Dragon performer – who later became Kreskin the mentalist, and did spike the water with a special high potent liquid mixture of LSD25 that was not illegal in the state of New Jersey at the time, but has since been included among the dangerous and outlawed drugs like marijuana.
While they couldn’t arrest Tido Mambo for the LSD, they did issue a federal warrant for his arrest for inciting a riot under 18 U.S.C. &: US Code-Section 2101: Riots.
(1) Whoever travels in interstate commerce or uses any facility of interstate or foreign commerce, including, but not limited to, the mail, telegraph, telephone, radio, or television, with intent – (1) to incite a riot, or (2) to organize, promote, encourage, participate in, or carry on a riot;…..” etc.
Lynda Van Devanter, on duty at the Shore Memorial Hospital Emergency Room was perplexed by the sudden influx of victims from the beach – mainly the young men of the Riot Squad who it seemed, had inhaled and got tear gas in their eyes, but couldn’t stop laughing.
One of the songs that came out of that summer of '65 was "When You Awake"
"When You Awake" - The Band
(Chorus)
When you awake you will remember everything
You will be hangin' on a string from your...
When you believe, you will relieve the only soul
That you were born with to grow old and never know
Ole showed me the fork in the road
You can take to the left or go straight to the right,
Use your days and save your nights
Be careful where you step, and watch what ya eat,
Sleep with a light and you got it be
Ole warned me, it's a mean old world,
The street don't greet ya, yes, it's true
But what am I supposed to do
Read the writing on the wall
I heard it when I was very small
Wash my hands in lye water
I got a date with the Captain's daughter
You can go and tell your brother
We sure gonna love one another all night
You may be right and you might be wrong
I ain't gonna worry all day long
Snow's gonna come and the frost gonna bite
My old car froze up last night
Ain't no reason to hang my head
I could wake up in the mornin' dead
“The Second Coming”:
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
The Federal Barbarian Task Force, who witnessed the whole spectacle from their upper floor Command Post above Shriver’s Candy Store, filmed it too, and concluded in their report that Tido Mambo had apparently utilized some group hypnotic routines he learned from another Purple Dragon performer – who later became Kreskin the mentalist, and did spike the water with a special high potent liquid mixture of LSD25 that was not illegal in the state of New Jersey at the time, but has since been included among the dangerous and outlawed drugs like marijuana.
While they couldn’t arrest Tido Mambo for the LSD, they did issue a federal warrant for his arrest for inciting a riot under 18 U.S.C. &: US Code-Section 2101: Riots.
(1) Whoever travels in interstate commerce or uses any facility of interstate or foreign commerce, including, but not limited to, the mail, telegraph, telephone, radio, or television, with intent – (1) to incite a riot, or (2) to organize, promote, encourage, participate in, or carry on a riot;…..” etc.
Lynda Van Devanter, on duty at the Shore Memorial Hospital Emergency Room was perplexed by the sudden influx of victims from the beach – mainly the young men of the Riot Squad who it seemed, had inhaled and got tear gas in their eyes, but couldn’t stop laughing.
One of the songs that came out of that summer of '65 was "When You Awake"
"When You Awake" - The Band
(Chorus)
When you awake you will remember everything
You will be hangin' on a string from your...
When you believe, you will relieve the only soul
That you were born with to grow old and never know
Ole showed me the fork in the road
You can take to the left or go straight to the right,
Use your days and save your nights
Be careful where you step, and watch what ya eat,
Sleep with a light and you got it be
Ole warned me, it's a mean old world,
The street don't greet ya, yes, it's true
But what am I supposed to do
Read the writing on the wall
I heard it when I was very small
Wash my hands in lye water
I got a date with the Captain's daughter
You can go and tell your brother
We sure gonna love one another all night
You may be right and you might be wrong
I ain't gonna worry all day long
Snow's gonna come and the frost gonna bite
My old car froze up last night
Ain't no reason to hang my head
I could wake up in the mornin' dead
Grand
Finale – Day Three – Continued – The Treasure Hunters Arrive
As they do in the wake of every storm, the treasure hunters showed up just behind the winds that drove the rain away, bringing their metal detectors, binoculars and maps with them.
Usually looking for antique bottles, coins and wedding rings lost in the sand, this time they were hungry for bigger ticket items – the two missing nukes off shore were the Holy Grail, but also while at the shore, some of them got wind of the 16th century Spanish treasure ship that the Purple Dragon head came from, and still others heard the story of Dutch Schultz’s wallet and the map of Atlantic City that tells you where Dutch hid his loot.
The first inkling that the treasure hunters were getting out of control was the reported theft of Iron Mike, the deep sea diving suit from the Old Salt Shop on the boardwalk, while the shop was closed during Sunday’s storm. The thieves left a hand scrawled note; “We know where the nukes are.”
That was just a joke, a college kid prank, as the four Penn State students were caught trying to use Iron Mike over at Anchorage Point, where the treasure hunters had learned from local clammers that the Spanish ship had run aground at Anchorage Point, the north end of the inlet at Great Egg Harbor, where most if not all of the metal detectors in the state were searching for Spanish doubloons.
Dutch Schultz’s loot was another matter, as the rumors at the time of his death – murdered while eating dinner in North Jersey, his loot was kept in a safe but no one knew where the safe was, except Andrew and now David Brenner and Jim Croce and Tido Mambo, and Buck the Bartender, who were there when Andrew opened the safe for Brenner. Brenner also mentioned Dutch Schultz’s wallet, safe and map to his producer at CBS, so treasure hunters could have learned about these things from any number of people, most of who thought it was all a big joke in the first place.
But not the treasure hunters, who were even more serious and determined than the knucklehead college kids who broke into the Old Salt’s Store and got arrested for stealing Iron Mike, the deep sea diving suit.
As they do in the wake of every storm, the treasure hunters showed up just behind the winds that drove the rain away, bringing their metal detectors, binoculars and maps with them.
Usually looking for antique bottles, coins and wedding rings lost in the sand, this time they were hungry for bigger ticket items – the two missing nukes off shore were the Holy Grail, but also while at the shore, some of them got wind of the 16th century Spanish treasure ship that the Purple Dragon head came from, and still others heard the story of Dutch Schultz’s wallet and the map of Atlantic City that tells you where Dutch hid his loot.
The first inkling that the treasure hunters were getting out of control was the reported theft of Iron Mike, the deep sea diving suit from the Old Salt Shop on the boardwalk, while the shop was closed during Sunday’s storm. The thieves left a hand scrawled note; “We know where the nukes are.”
That was just a joke, a college kid prank, as the four Penn State students were caught trying to use Iron Mike over at Anchorage Point, where the treasure hunters had learned from local clammers that the Spanish ship had run aground at Anchorage Point, the north end of the inlet at Great Egg Harbor, where most if not all of the metal detectors in the state were searching for Spanish doubloons.
Dutch Schultz’s loot was another matter, as the rumors at the time of his death – murdered while eating dinner in North Jersey, his loot was kept in a safe but no one knew where the safe was, except Andrew and now David Brenner and Jim Croce and Tido Mambo, and Buck the Bartender, who were there when Andrew opened the safe for Brenner. Brenner also mentioned Dutch Schultz’s wallet, safe and map to his producer at CBS, so treasure hunters could have learned about these things from any number of people, most of who thought it was all a big joke in the first place.
But not the treasure hunters, who were even more serious and determined than the knucklehead college kids who broke into the Old Salt’s Store and got arrested for stealing Iron Mike, the deep sea diving suit.
The key to the loot they knew was the map and Andrew
wasn’t giving up the map, but then a tape recording surfaced of a Mrs. Coyle,
the wife of the bartender who served Schultz when he brought the safe to the
Anchorage, and got the wallet when he threw it behind the bar when the police
raided. Schultz got away, but was murdered by the mob a few days later.
As mob lore and legend would have it, and popularly expressed in book and in film, "Shortly before his death, fearing that he would be incarcerated as a result of Dewey's efforts, Schultz commissioned the construction of a special airtight and waterproof safe, into which he placed $7 million in cash. Schultz then drove the safe to an undisclosed location and buried it. At the time of his death, the safe was still interred; as no evidence existed to indicate that either Schultz had ever revealed the location of the safe to anyone, the exact place where the safe was buried died with them. Gangland lore held that Schultz's enemies, including Lucky Luciano, spent the remainder of their lives searching for the safe. The safe has never been recovered. Treasure hunters meet annually to search for the safe. One such meeting was documented in the film Digging for Dutch: The Search for the Lost Treasure of Dutch Schultz."
On the tape Mrs. Coyle confirmed all of the facts about the wallet and the safe, but also said that her husband had a parrot, who knew the secret of the map and Dutch Schultz’s loot. And the parrot was still alive and the object of search by some of the treasure hunters, beginning at the Anchorage Tavern, where they learned the parrot did exist and did talk, having an atrocious language from conversations it picked up at the bar, but it had been stolen, along with the Tom Thumb piano that .
As mob lore and legend would have it, and popularly expressed in book and in film, "Shortly before his death, fearing that he would be incarcerated as a result of Dewey's efforts, Schultz commissioned the construction of a special airtight and waterproof safe, into which he placed $7 million in cash. Schultz then drove the safe to an undisclosed location and buried it. At the time of his death, the safe was still interred; as no evidence existed to indicate that either Schultz had ever revealed the location of the safe to anyone, the exact place where the safe was buried died with them. Gangland lore held that Schultz's enemies, including Lucky Luciano, spent the remainder of their lives searching for the safe. The safe has never been recovered. Treasure hunters meet annually to search for the safe. One such meeting was documented in the film Digging for Dutch: The Search for the Lost Treasure of Dutch Schultz."
On the tape Mrs. Coyle confirmed all of the facts about the wallet and the safe, but also said that her husband had a parrot, who knew the secret of the map and Dutch Schultz’s loot. And the parrot was still alive and the object of search by some of the treasure hunters, beginning at the Anchorage Tavern, where they learned the parrot did exist and did talk, having an atrocious language from conversations it picked up at the bar, but it had been stolen, along with the Tom Thumb piano that .
After everyone left the bar and it was closed for
the night, the parrot, left alone in Tido Mambo’s dark room on the third floor,
its colors barely visible in the shadow of a neon light, squawked once, then in
a whisper said clearly – “The map’s in the piano,” but no one was there to hear
him.
Grand
Finale Day Four - The Ninety-Nine Percenters Arrive
The Grand Finale Day Four – Monday – The Ninety-Nine Percenters Arrive
Hurricane Carrol, a fleeting storm that just touched the coast before heading out into the North Atlantic, was severe enough to keep motorcycles off the road, and so a few thousand bikers who were headed to Ocean City, New Jersey for a Labor Day run, ostensibly including a lot of Hell’s Angels, were holed up in small bunches all along the highways and back roads leading to the Jersey Shore.
The winds that brought in the driving rain the previous day drove out the storm clouds just as fast by Monday morning so the sun came up even though it was hidden behind the departing clouds.
The 99 Percenters who dubbed themselves the New Barbarians, and led by Mike the Mechanic, left LA – the City of Angels a week ago, but had picked up a half dozen bikers along the way, including biker enthusiasts from Arizona and Ohio, including Billy the Kid, the undercover rookie policeman from Somers Point who couldn’t find any Hell’s Angels so he joined up with Mike and the New Barbarians, smitten by their ethics and enthusiasm.
They now numbered more than a few dozen and were just west of Philadelphia and making their way towards New Jersey. After crossing both the Walt Whitman and the Ben Franklyn bridges in two groups they joined together on the Black Horse Pike and stopped when they got to the fork in the road that is the entrance to the Atlantic City Expressway, where they found a dozen bikers protesting the ban on motorcycles on the Expressway.
“Bikers Pay Taxes Too” read one sign as they stopped to talk to the protesters and were informed about Friday’s major spontaneous protest that disrupted traffic for hours and got a dozen bikers arrested.
The Grand Finale Day Four – Monday – The Ninety-Nine Percenters Arrive
Hurricane Carrol, a fleeting storm that just touched the coast before heading out into the North Atlantic, was severe enough to keep motorcycles off the road, and so a few thousand bikers who were headed to Ocean City, New Jersey for a Labor Day run, ostensibly including a lot of Hell’s Angels, were holed up in small bunches all along the highways and back roads leading to the Jersey Shore.
The winds that brought in the driving rain the previous day drove out the storm clouds just as fast by Monday morning so the sun came up even though it was hidden behind the departing clouds.
The 99 Percenters who dubbed themselves the New Barbarians, and led by Mike the Mechanic, left LA – the City of Angels a week ago, but had picked up a half dozen bikers along the way, including biker enthusiasts from Arizona and Ohio, including Billy the Kid, the undercover rookie policeman from Somers Point who couldn’t find any Hell’s Angels so he joined up with Mike and the New Barbarians, smitten by their ethics and enthusiasm.
They now numbered more than a few dozen and were just west of Philadelphia and making their way towards New Jersey. After crossing both the Walt Whitman and the Ben Franklyn bridges in two groups they joined together on the Black Horse Pike and stopped when they got to the fork in the road that is the entrance to the Atlantic City Expressway, where they found a dozen bikers protesting the ban on motorcycles on the Expressway.
“Bikers Pay Taxes Too” read one sign as they stopped to talk to the protesters and were informed about Friday’s major spontaneous protest that disrupted traffic for hours and got a dozen bikers arrested.
Mike introduced himself to Malcolm, who was
obviously the leader - based on his ostentatious leather suit and embroidered
colors that read “Capitalist Tools.”
Mike didn’t immediately recognize Malcolm Forbes, and had never read Forbes Magazine, and Forbes had just learned about the Hell’s Angels threat and of the 99 Percenters and the New Barbarians, so they talked one on one without previous impressions.
They talked about the impending arrival of the Hell's Angels, but neither group said they had seen any Angels.
Forbes told Mike that a lot of Bikers had intentionally broken the law and took the Expressway and when they tried to pay the toll they were ticketed and arrested. Mike said that while he agreed with the protesters, he wasn’t about to break any laws or get arrested, even if it was a matter of principles, and Forbes wasn’t about to get arrested either so he and a few friends in their equally ostentatious outfits and motorcycles joined Mike and the New Barbarians in their run to Ocean City, as more and more bikers were joining in the flow.
Since it was still early in the morning, as LA Mike and the New Barbarians, Billy the Point Man, who they picked up in Ohio, Philly Steve and Malcolm Forbes and the Capitalist Tools headed down the Pike towards the Jersey Shore they noticed that every bar, roadhouse, diner, cafĂ© and flea bag motel were packed with bikers who had ducked in – any port in a storm, sported banners “Ninety Nine Percenters” - and were headed to Ocean City for the “Roar at the Shore.”
Halfway down the Black Horse Pike Philly Steve told them about a beautiful side road to Ocean City so about a dozen riders pulled off instructing the others to meet at the Point Diner at noon.
The dozen or so bikers who took the side road stopped at Doakes, a back roads roadhouse where there were already two dozen or so bikers tuning up for the final leg of the run, and there they had the Deer Hunter’s Special – two shots and a beer and laid their plans for entering Ocean City.
Billy the Pointer, who liked to take the point on the highway, had told them that the Federal Barbarian Task Force plan was to let the Hell’s Angels over the first bridge and raise the second bridge, bottling them up on the causeway where they would be arrested.
And the reluctant leader of the New Barbarians – LA Mike the Mechanic, in consultation with Malcolm Forbes, Philly Steve and some of the guys who came with them from Arizona all agreed to go ahead and enter the town in a group as one – and let them open the bridges, but they can’t stop them from entering the city if they do everything legal and street clean.
While most holiday runs are done for a charity and take months to organize, the Labor Day Run to Ocean City by the so-called “Ninety Nine Percenters” and “New Barbarians” was a pretty much spontaneous occasion that brought out thousands, some say tens of thousands of bikers of every type and stripe, even a few one-percenters but they were local boys – Warlocks, and a few Pagans, but they didn’t cause any problems.
Driving down the backroads through Mays Landing they picked up a few more stragglers at Donny’s Mays Landing Inn, a few nudist bikers from Sunshine Park Nudist Colony, and some locals at Jack’s Grove, and when they got to the Somers Point Circle found a few thousand bikers backed up at the Point Diner and packing all of the bars, restaurants and liquor stores.
They were waiting for LA Mike, the leader of the New Barbarians, who surprised them by his stature as he got off his bike in the crowded parking lot of the diner.
“You’re LA Mike?” one big biker asked incredulously.
“Yes,” Mike said politely.
“Of the New Barbarians?”
Mike turned around so he could see his patch: “New Barbarians” with the rocker “City of Angels.”
Mike didn’t immediately recognize Malcolm Forbes, and had never read Forbes Magazine, and Forbes had just learned about the Hell’s Angels threat and of the 99 Percenters and the New Barbarians, so they talked one on one without previous impressions.
They talked about the impending arrival of the Hell's Angels, but neither group said they had seen any Angels.
Forbes told Mike that a lot of Bikers had intentionally broken the law and took the Expressway and when they tried to pay the toll they were ticketed and arrested. Mike said that while he agreed with the protesters, he wasn’t about to break any laws or get arrested, even if it was a matter of principles, and Forbes wasn’t about to get arrested either so he and a few friends in their equally ostentatious outfits and motorcycles joined Mike and the New Barbarians in their run to Ocean City, as more and more bikers were joining in the flow.
Since it was still early in the morning, as LA Mike and the New Barbarians, Billy the Point Man, who they picked up in Ohio, Philly Steve and Malcolm Forbes and the Capitalist Tools headed down the Pike towards the Jersey Shore they noticed that every bar, roadhouse, diner, cafĂ© and flea bag motel were packed with bikers who had ducked in – any port in a storm, sported banners “Ninety Nine Percenters” - and were headed to Ocean City for the “Roar at the Shore.”
Halfway down the Black Horse Pike Philly Steve told them about a beautiful side road to Ocean City so about a dozen riders pulled off instructing the others to meet at the Point Diner at noon.
The dozen or so bikers who took the side road stopped at Doakes, a back roads roadhouse where there were already two dozen or so bikers tuning up for the final leg of the run, and there they had the Deer Hunter’s Special – two shots and a beer and laid their plans for entering Ocean City.
Billy the Pointer, who liked to take the point on the highway, had told them that the Federal Barbarian Task Force plan was to let the Hell’s Angels over the first bridge and raise the second bridge, bottling them up on the causeway where they would be arrested.
And the reluctant leader of the New Barbarians – LA Mike the Mechanic, in consultation with Malcolm Forbes, Philly Steve and some of the guys who came with them from Arizona all agreed to go ahead and enter the town in a group as one – and let them open the bridges, but they can’t stop them from entering the city if they do everything legal and street clean.
While most holiday runs are done for a charity and take months to organize, the Labor Day Run to Ocean City by the so-called “Ninety Nine Percenters” and “New Barbarians” was a pretty much spontaneous occasion that brought out thousands, some say tens of thousands of bikers of every type and stripe, even a few one-percenters but they were local boys – Warlocks, and a few Pagans, but they didn’t cause any problems.
Driving down the backroads through Mays Landing they picked up a few more stragglers at Donny’s Mays Landing Inn, a few nudist bikers from Sunshine Park Nudist Colony, and some locals at Jack’s Grove, and when they got to the Somers Point Circle found a few thousand bikers backed up at the Point Diner and packing all of the bars, restaurants and liquor stores.
They were waiting for LA Mike, the leader of the New Barbarians, who surprised them by his stature as he got off his bike in the crowded parking lot of the diner.
“You’re LA Mike?” one big biker asked incredulously.
“Yes,” Mike said politely.
“Of the New Barbarians?”
Mike turned around so he could see his patch: “New Barbarians” with the rocker “City of Angels.”
“Something wrong?” Malcolm asked.
“No, ‘nothins’ wrong,” the biker said, “we just thought he’d be bigger.”
Mike blushed, and tried to explain to them that “I’m no leader,” and said, before cracking “watch the parking meters” a joke line from a Dylan song that everyone got, but didn’t think funny.
Mike got serious too. “I’m just an ordinary citizen, a mechanic who is tired of the outlaw motorcycle gangs branding all bikers as rapist, killers and thieves.”
After a short pause, “I just want ordinary motorcycle enthusiasts to have the same honor, respect and right to use the road as any other citizen, but we have to earn that respect.”
The bikers groaned but still insisted that LA Mike the Mechanic, now legendary in biker circles, lead them into Ocean City, and after a brief consultation with Malcom and Billy Pointer, agreed they would all go in together, with one caveat – that anybody with any outstanding tickets or warrants stay in Somers Point because they would be arrested if they tried to enter Ocean City.
“Billy – you take the Point” Mike said, as they all began to saddle up and someone yelled, “Take’em to Missouri Mack” and another “Yippie” and the bikes began to come alive and roar, and with LA Mike the Mechanic and Malcolm Forbes falling in they followed Billy onto the circle and over the first bridge went a regiment of a few thousand bikers, the exact number of which was recorded in the police report as the Federal Barbarian Task Force, in its knee jerk authorative reaction, pulled the trip wire on the trap and just before Billy and the leaders got to the second bridge an air horn sounded twice and the guard rails came down and the bridge opened, blocking the bikers from entering town.
Even with the latest on site state of the art computer technology supplied by the emergency federal task force, set up in the Information Center, it took a few hours to process the first dozen bikers, all of whom were totally clean, as were all of the bikers as they filtered them through the system one by one. Not so lucky were some of those in the dozen or so cars who also got accidently caught up in the motorcycle dragnet as they nabbed a few for outstanding parking and speeding tickets, two illegal Irish aliens without green cards and a drug dealing hippie with two pounds of weed.
Once the cops manning the road block realized they weren’t dealing with the Hell’s Angels or any One Percenter gang, and had been set up, the bikers had been tipped off, and there were no outlaw bikers among them, they had to let them through, but weren’t happy about it, as the operation had failed or rather had been hijacked and turned around on them.
So after over two hours the causeway bridge to Ocean City was lowered and the guard rail raised and over a thousand motorcycles entered the city at once, coming down 9th Street like a tidal wave and engulfing the city already crowded with cars, tourists, college kids and hippies.
Katie the Chatterbox waitress just got off duty and was drinking a coke while counting her tips at the waitress station table next to the open, screened window through which you could hear the sounds of passing motorcycles.
“Triumph,” Katie said to no one in particular.
“Harley,” she said as another bike passed by.
“Indian,” said almost as if bored by the game, but then looked up and out the wind when there came a little rumble that she couldn’t ID, a glass tingling vibration that grew to a lion’s roar and didn’t let up as she could see the parade of bikes go by through the window.
When the street light changed on the corner, and the bikes stopped, the revving roar was so loud you couldn’t hear the juke box or have a conversation.
It was maybe twenty minutes to a half hour before things quieted down with only the occasional sound of a bike going by, and wondering if any of them were Hell’s Angels.
Katie worked the breakfast shift and was now off and was getting ready to go to the 27th Street Beach to play in the Kelly Clan Olympics, and was waiting for her ride and thinking about her father’s homophobic fear of the Hell’s Angels and their threat to come back and pillage the town.
At one time her father said that because of the biker threat she wasn’t even allowed out of the house over Labor Day weekend, but he must have forgotten about that, she was thinking when Chris Mathews the cook comes out, drying his hands with a towel and asks, “What are you doing?”
Without looking at Chris Kate says dryly, “Waitin’ on the Angels.”
Just then the Chatterbox door opens and in walks LA Mike the Mechanic, Billy Pointer, Philly Steve and Malcolm Forbes, hungry for cheeseburgers and banana splits.
From the window Kate sees Duncan’s white Mustang pull up and waves goodbye to Chris and the other waitresses as she waltzed out the door with a flourish.
While the others sat down to look at the lunch menu, LA Mike went up to the juke box, pumped in a quarter and played three songs – Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” Arlo Gunthrie’s “The Motorcycle Song,” and a new song Barry McGuire’s “Eve of Destruction.”
“No, ‘nothins’ wrong,” the biker said, “we just thought he’d be bigger.”
Mike blushed, and tried to explain to them that “I’m no leader,” and said, before cracking “watch the parking meters” a joke line from a Dylan song that everyone got, but didn’t think funny.
Mike got serious too. “I’m just an ordinary citizen, a mechanic who is tired of the outlaw motorcycle gangs branding all bikers as rapist, killers and thieves.”
After a short pause, “I just want ordinary motorcycle enthusiasts to have the same honor, respect and right to use the road as any other citizen, but we have to earn that respect.”
The bikers groaned but still insisted that LA Mike the Mechanic, now legendary in biker circles, lead them into Ocean City, and after a brief consultation with Malcom and Billy Pointer, agreed they would all go in together, with one caveat – that anybody with any outstanding tickets or warrants stay in Somers Point because they would be arrested if they tried to enter Ocean City.
“Billy – you take the Point” Mike said, as they all began to saddle up and someone yelled, “Take’em to Missouri Mack” and another “Yippie” and the bikes began to come alive and roar, and with LA Mike the Mechanic and Malcolm Forbes falling in they followed Billy onto the circle and over the first bridge went a regiment of a few thousand bikers, the exact number of which was recorded in the police report as the Federal Barbarian Task Force, in its knee jerk authorative reaction, pulled the trip wire on the trap and just before Billy and the leaders got to the second bridge an air horn sounded twice and the guard rails came down and the bridge opened, blocking the bikers from entering town.
Even with the latest on site state of the art computer technology supplied by the emergency federal task force, set up in the Information Center, it took a few hours to process the first dozen bikers, all of whom were totally clean, as were all of the bikers as they filtered them through the system one by one. Not so lucky were some of those in the dozen or so cars who also got accidently caught up in the motorcycle dragnet as they nabbed a few for outstanding parking and speeding tickets, two illegal Irish aliens without green cards and a drug dealing hippie with two pounds of weed.
Once the cops manning the road block realized they weren’t dealing with the Hell’s Angels or any One Percenter gang, and had been set up, the bikers had been tipped off, and there were no outlaw bikers among them, they had to let them through, but weren’t happy about it, as the operation had failed or rather had been hijacked and turned around on them.
So after over two hours the causeway bridge to Ocean City was lowered and the guard rail raised and over a thousand motorcycles entered the city at once, coming down 9th Street like a tidal wave and engulfing the city already crowded with cars, tourists, college kids and hippies.
Katie the Chatterbox waitress just got off duty and was drinking a coke while counting her tips at the waitress station table next to the open, screened window through which you could hear the sounds of passing motorcycles.
“Triumph,” Katie said to no one in particular.
“Harley,” she said as another bike passed by.
“Indian,” said almost as if bored by the game, but then looked up and out the wind when there came a little rumble that she couldn’t ID, a glass tingling vibration that grew to a lion’s roar and didn’t let up as she could see the parade of bikes go by through the window.
When the street light changed on the corner, and the bikes stopped, the revving roar was so loud you couldn’t hear the juke box or have a conversation.
It was maybe twenty minutes to a half hour before things quieted down with only the occasional sound of a bike going by, and wondering if any of them were Hell’s Angels.
Katie worked the breakfast shift and was now off and was getting ready to go to the 27th Street Beach to play in the Kelly Clan Olympics, and was waiting for her ride and thinking about her father’s homophobic fear of the Hell’s Angels and their threat to come back and pillage the town.
At one time her father said that because of the biker threat she wasn’t even allowed out of the house over Labor Day weekend, but he must have forgotten about that, she was thinking when Chris Mathews the cook comes out, drying his hands with a towel and asks, “What are you doing?”
Without looking at Chris Kate says dryly, “Waitin’ on the Angels.”
Just then the Chatterbox door opens and in walks LA Mike the Mechanic, Billy Pointer, Philly Steve and Malcolm Forbes, hungry for cheeseburgers and banana splits.
From the window Kate sees Duncan’s white Mustang pull up and waves goodbye to Chris and the other waitresses as she waltzed out the door with a flourish.
While the others sat down to look at the lunch menu, LA Mike went up to the juke box, pumped in a quarter and played three songs – Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” Arlo Gunthrie’s “The Motorcycle Song,” and a new song Barry McGuire’s “Eve of Destruction.”
Grand
Finale – Day Four – Monday Labor Day Continued
From the Chatterbox Duncan drove up Central Avenue to 27th Street where he parked and they walked down to the beach where they met Lizanne sitting in a chair under a Bert’s Beach umbrella, keeping score of some of the games that were going on. They were just in time to play a game of co-ed tackle football in which Kate caught pass and ran it in for a touchdown.
Then they played some serious volleyball in which Duncan excelled, as did a youngster, Greg Gregory, a Somers Point kid Kate knew from school. Greg liked to fish, caught a striper on this very beach not long ago, and was also on the high school rowing team, and lifted weights with Kell, who was giving the kid rowing lessons, but today they were playing volleyball, and Greg’s team with Grace, Duncan and Kate won the match, but not the trophy.
Mrs. Kelly kept close watch on the competition, and when she rang the big bell outside the back door of the beach house, everyone knew it was time for a meal, and for Mrs. Kelly to give out the trophies, some new and just for today and others old and tarnished and passed on to a new champion every Labor Day.
While everyone was eating and drinking in the beach house yard, Jimmy Campbell was sitting back at his Bert’s Beach chair and raft concession, counting his money, when Mrs. Kelly came out and gave him a little shoe box with some chicken and French fries, and a nice tip for taking care of her extended family this summer. Jim’s aunt owns the Chatterbox and they’ve been family friends since Grace worked there.
Meanwhile, things were not as quiet over at the 14th Street beach, where some of the bikers had joined the surfers and college kids and a few hippies and were having a good old time, with the Carroll Brothers, playing acoustic guitars, bongos and sax, but without Pete, their leader, set the tone for the late afternoon, as guys were holding blankets waste high, like firemen catching someone jumping from a burning building, flipping bikini clad girls into the air like a trampoline, seeing who could flip their girl the highest.
After giving the last live weather report from the Music Pier the KYWTV3 News crew drove down the boardwalk filming away, and when they got to 14th Street the crowd saw the cameras and picked up the pace of their routines now that they were on camera.
Even though the powers that be tried to keep it a state secret, everyone knew that the Hells Angels had threatened to make Ocean City a Labor Day run destination and ransack the city in retaliation for being run out of town in May, thus ratcheting up the police presence and security measures, and creating an air of anticipation that didn’t need a Kreskin or a magician to manipulate.
So by late afternoon, after the 99 Percenters had arrived, and it was apparent the Hells Angels weren’t coming to this party, the disappointment was apparent in many of the college kids, surfers, hippies and bikers who were expecting fireworks, and when none were forthcoming, decided to make their last day of summer vacation one that everyone would remember.
Even without an amplifier they were way over the decibel limit on the boardwalk cop’s noise meters, and despite the mayor’s pleas to just let it go, they would all be gone in a few hours, the chief of police and the public safety commissioner ordered the Riot Squad to report to 14th Street, despite their sorry record of the past week, and they wanted to make up for their embarrassments.
The Carroll Brothers didn’t care, their season was over after they played on last session, mainly to locals while most everybody was heading home, and after spending almost every day with the same bunch of surfers and college kids, they were playing their hearts out, and few noticed Pete wasn’t even with them.
From the Chatterbox Duncan drove up Central Avenue to 27th Street where he parked and they walked down to the beach where they met Lizanne sitting in a chair under a Bert’s Beach umbrella, keeping score of some of the games that were going on. They were just in time to play a game of co-ed tackle football in which Kate caught pass and ran it in for a touchdown.
Then they played some serious volleyball in which Duncan excelled, as did a youngster, Greg Gregory, a Somers Point kid Kate knew from school. Greg liked to fish, caught a striper on this very beach not long ago, and was also on the high school rowing team, and lifted weights with Kell, who was giving the kid rowing lessons, but today they were playing volleyball, and Greg’s team with Grace, Duncan and Kate won the match, but not the trophy.
Mrs. Kelly kept close watch on the competition, and when she rang the big bell outside the back door of the beach house, everyone knew it was time for a meal, and for Mrs. Kelly to give out the trophies, some new and just for today and others old and tarnished and passed on to a new champion every Labor Day.
While everyone was eating and drinking in the beach house yard, Jimmy Campbell was sitting back at his Bert’s Beach chair and raft concession, counting his money, when Mrs. Kelly came out and gave him a little shoe box with some chicken and French fries, and a nice tip for taking care of her extended family this summer. Jim’s aunt owns the Chatterbox and they’ve been family friends since Grace worked there.
Meanwhile, things were not as quiet over at the 14th Street beach, where some of the bikers had joined the surfers and college kids and a few hippies and were having a good old time, with the Carroll Brothers, playing acoustic guitars, bongos and sax, but without Pete, their leader, set the tone for the late afternoon, as guys were holding blankets waste high, like firemen catching someone jumping from a burning building, flipping bikini clad girls into the air like a trampoline, seeing who could flip their girl the highest.
After giving the last live weather report from the Music Pier the KYWTV3 News crew drove down the boardwalk filming away, and when they got to 14th Street the crowd saw the cameras and picked up the pace of their routines now that they were on camera.
Even though the powers that be tried to keep it a state secret, everyone knew that the Hells Angels had threatened to make Ocean City a Labor Day run destination and ransack the city in retaliation for being run out of town in May, thus ratcheting up the police presence and security measures, and creating an air of anticipation that didn’t need a Kreskin or a magician to manipulate.
So by late afternoon, after the 99 Percenters had arrived, and it was apparent the Hells Angels weren’t coming to this party, the disappointment was apparent in many of the college kids, surfers, hippies and bikers who were expecting fireworks, and when none were forthcoming, decided to make their last day of summer vacation one that everyone would remember.
Even without an amplifier they were way over the decibel limit on the boardwalk cop’s noise meters, and despite the mayor’s pleas to just let it go, they would all be gone in a few hours, the chief of police and the public safety commissioner ordered the Riot Squad to report to 14th Street, despite their sorry record of the past week, and they wanted to make up for their embarrassments.
The Carroll Brothers didn’t care, their season was over after they played on last session, mainly to locals while most everybody was heading home, and after spending almost every day with the same bunch of surfers and college kids, they were playing their hearts out, and few noticed Pete wasn’t even with them.
As with Tido Mambo, a federal warrant had been
issued for his arrest for inciting a riot, so both Pete Carroll and Tido were
officially on the lamb and avoiding the cops, and quite successful at doing so,
even though Pete was riding around town on his motorcycle while Tido they say,
put in an appearance at the 14th Street beach.
It wasn’t the noise the Carroll Brothers were making that got the Riot Squad to go onto the beach, it was the sudden appearance of Tido Mambo, who stood up on the roof of the Lifeguard stand and began blessing the crowd and waving to the cops on the boardwalk.
Or was it a college kid impersonating Tido Mambo?
It didn’t matter to the Riot Squad, bringing Tido Mambo in would be a feather in their cap and remove the stains of the previous 14th Street and 9th Street Beach fiascos, but it wouldn’t be easy, as the surfers and college kids, joined by a slew of bikers, pelted the Riot Squad with suntan oil and wet beach tows and using surfboards as shields kept the cops from getting to Tido until he slipped away into the crowd and under the fishing pier pilings. When two of the boardwalk cops, on their last day of duty, saw Tido walking away they gave chase but he jumped on the back of a motorcycle and took off and was chased down alleys but got away.
The Carroll Brothers weren’t so lucky, but like the band on the Titanic, they never stopped playing, even while being led away to the paddy wagon.
In the ensuing riot a dozen college kids and surfers were arrested, along with three of the Carroll Brothers, and four boardwalk policeman and two Riot Squad cops and ten beach goers were injured and were treated for minor cuts and abrasions at the Emergency Room of Shore Memorial Hospital.
Back at the Beach
It wasn’t the noise the Carroll Brothers were making that got the Riot Squad to go onto the beach, it was the sudden appearance of Tido Mambo, who stood up on the roof of the Lifeguard stand and began blessing the crowd and waving to the cops on the boardwalk.
Or was it a college kid impersonating Tido Mambo?
It didn’t matter to the Riot Squad, bringing Tido Mambo in would be a feather in their cap and remove the stains of the previous 14th Street and 9th Street Beach fiascos, but it wouldn’t be easy, as the surfers and college kids, joined by a slew of bikers, pelted the Riot Squad with suntan oil and wet beach tows and using surfboards as shields kept the cops from getting to Tido until he slipped away into the crowd and under the fishing pier pilings. When two of the boardwalk cops, on their last day of duty, saw Tido walking away they gave chase but he jumped on the back of a motorcycle and took off and was chased down alleys but got away.
The Carroll Brothers weren’t so lucky, but like the band on the Titanic, they never stopped playing, even while being led away to the paddy wagon.
In the ensuing riot a dozen college kids and surfers were arrested, along with three of the Carroll Brothers, and four boardwalk policeman and two Riot Squad cops and ten beach goers were injured and were treated for minor cuts and abrasions at the Emergency Room of Shore Memorial Hospital.
Back at the Beach
There were different bonds among those on the beach
that night, the biggest among all of them was the fact that they weren’t going
anywhere, and were the few that were left behind when everyone else had to go
back home, to work or to school or back to their regular routines.
Mom Kelly usually puts in early, especially after a
long Labor Day weekend, but tonight she stayed up and sat around the beach fire
with the rest – daughter Liz and Margaret, the two least known of the Kelly Clan,
Liz’s husband Don, son Kel and his lifeguard friend who would later become
known as the Old Salt. The lifeguards had an unspoken bond among themselves,
especially Don, who was a lifeguard at the Flander’s pools when he met Liz, and
the Old Salt and Kel, and John Carey, all locals who didn’t have to join the
caravan parking lot of cars leaving town, and when they get to the Somers Point
Circle, going their own way.
Another bond was between the two Pointers – from
Somers Point - the Old Salt and young Gregory, Greg Greg, all of fourteen and
schoolmate of the mayor’s youngest daughter Chris, who was still trying to
stick around despite her father’s pleas to come home. They were all
sitting around the beach fire, someone in the shadows was strumming a guitar – Stephanie,
while the others were trying to determine how many ways they could cook the
striper fish filets from the nice twenty some pounder Gregory had caught from
the nearby jetty of that very beach early that morning.
Gregory was a fisherman, hunter and bartender in
training at Gregory’s his grandfather’s Somers Point bar and hotel, but he was
also on the Mainland high school crew team and loved to row in the surf boats
with the Ocean City lifeguards even though he wasn’t one himself, but the Old Salt
and John Carey let him in the boat to row with them, jutting through the
incoming breakers, sea salt caking your hair and your arm muscles bulging.
“So, Mister Kelly,” Gregory broke the silence of the
crashing waves and the crackling of the fire, directing his question to John
Kelly, Jr., who interrupted him, “Call me ‘Kel’ Greg, everybody else does.”
“Okay Kel,” Gregory began, “I know you probably
don’t want to but can you tell me the story of the Diamond Sculls? I’ve heard
it before but I’d like to hear it directly from the horse’s mouth.
Kel smiled awkwardly and took a sip of his drink and
then leaned over and lit a cigar in the fire as his sisters and brother in law
laughed and egged him on, but then Ma Kelly spoke up, sitting n her Bert’s
beach chair and wrapped in an afghan.
“Tell him, Kel,” she ordered, “Tell him. The kid
wants to hear it directly from the horse’s ass,” and everybody laughed louder,
and then suddenly went quiet, though the guitar kept strumming softly in the
background.
“Well you see,” Kel began, taking a drag on his
cigar, “my father – John B. Kelly, Sr., God rest his soul, the tenth son of an
Irish immigrant, was a Philadelphia bricklayer and an athlete – an oarsman who
won the 1920 Olympic gold medals in single and double sculls, but was prevented
from competing in the more prestigious Diamond Sculls at Henley on the Thames
in London because he was a bricklayer – a common laborer with powerful hands,
strong muscles and an unbreakable back that could carry the world if need be,
so they read into the rules that only gentlemen could compete and common
laborers were not considered gentlemen as the term gentlemen meant in their
day.”
There was a pause in the story as everyone looked at
Kel’s silloute image reflecting off the fire and the sounds of the waves and
soft guitar in the background.
“So from the day that I was born, and it was
mentioned at my christening, that my mission in life was to win the Diamond
Sculls at Henley, come hell or high water.”
“And that he did!” said John Carey, lifting his beer
up in a toast and everyone else followed, including Ma Kelly who was sipping
wine.
“Well it wasn’t that easy,” Kel continued.
“While everyone else trained on the Schuylkill or on
the Danube or the Thames, I trained right here, right on this beach with the
lifeguards – John Carey, the Old Salt, all of the lifeguards challenged me, and
I was at my best, but lost the Olympic gold to a German, though I did win the
Silver.
“Then it was on to Henley, and I was the underdog as
the German was there too, and I was recognized as a ‘gentleman’” he emphasized
using his fingers to illustrate quotation marks, “and allowed to compete.”
“And going down the line, with thousands cheering on
both sides of the river, I summoned up enough strength and determination…”
“Tenacity” someone spoke up before Kel continued,
“to overtake the German and win the Diamond Sculls at Henely.”
And everyone applauded and Kel smiled.
The fire crackled, the waves broke heavy on the
beach, the wind picked up and everyone just stared into the flames as Stephanie’s
soft guitar played quietly in the background as everyone drifted off into their
own thoughts.
At 4 am, the Bay Shore’s new manager ushered the last employee out the front door, surveyed the scene of broken bottles, dirty ashtrays and debris that would remain in place until the next spring, flicked off the lights, closed the door tight and bolted the lock. Then he got in his car and casually began to make his way to Florida where he would spend the winter.
At 4 am, the Bay Shore’s new manager ushered the last employee out the front door, surveyed the scene of broken bottles, dirty ashtrays and debris that would remain in place until the next spring, flicked off the lights, closed the door tight and bolted the lock. Then he got in his car and casually began to make his way to Florida where he would spend the winter.
As he drove up the Parkway he was passed by a Caddy
convertible, Tido Mambo waved and smiled as he passed, with the Tom Thumb piano
sticking up on the back seat next to a guitar on which perched the parrot.
The next morning’s newspaper included the small, one
column, three paragraph story with the headline: Ocean City Beach Riot Injures
12, 15 Arrests, but the news report didn’t tell the whole story.
The KYWTV3 News Special Report, a one hour long documentary film they called "The Long Cool Summer" aired at prime time the day after Labor Day, won awards for director David Brenner and reporter Tom Snyder, and is currently filed away in a tin can in a cold vault storage area of the Urban Archives Media Section of the Paley Library at Temple University, where Brenner attended college.
And Nucky Johnson was right when he told Judge Helfant not to do or say anything because on the day after Labor Day everybody would forget everything that happened, - they would forget Brenner’s story, Helfant’s Kangaroo Court, the murder of Harry Anglemeyer, the Hell’s Angeles, the Spanish treasure ship, Dutch Schultz’s loot, the Atlantic City map, the lost Nukes, all would be forgotten on the day after Labor Day....and it was.
The KYWTV3 News Special Report, a one hour long documentary film they called "The Long Cool Summer" aired at prime time the day after Labor Day, won awards for director David Brenner and reporter Tom Snyder, and is currently filed away in a tin can in a cold vault storage area of the Urban Archives Media Section of the Paley Library at Temple University, where Brenner attended college.
And Nucky Johnson was right when he told Judge Helfant not to do or say anything because on the day after Labor Day everybody would forget everything that happened, - they would forget Brenner’s story, Helfant’s Kangaroo Court, the murder of Harry Anglemeyer, the Hell’s Angeles, the Spanish treasure ship, Dutch Schultz’s loot, the Atlantic City map, the lost Nukes, all would be forgotten on the day after Labor Day....and it was.
Awaiting on the Angels – the Long Cool Summer of '65 Revisited
FINI
If you made it this far you may be interested in the followup sequel
1969 - The Summer of Love Continued
now being written live on line at:
1969TheSummeroflovecontinued
FINI
If you made it this far you may be interested in the followup sequel
1969 - The Summer of Love Continued
now being written live on line at:
1969TheSummeroflovecontinued
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