Summers at the Beach
In the summers of 1944 and 1947, our family rented seasonal cottages in Delaware, first on Dewey Beach, then on Bethany Beach. America had not yet developed a system of interstate highways (eventually in June, 1956 by President Eisenhower). Driving to and from Delaware involved navigating narrow, winding, two-way, macadam state roads of varying quality required a full day’s drive. Mom had loaded our 1940/41 Ford Woodie Station Wagon with enough to support six of us for a month. On returning from Europe, we bought the wonderful “Woodie.” Happily, each weekend Dad would join us from Washington, driving his LaSalle sedan.
As the war was still underway both Delaware beaches were almost devoid of people during the summers. There were scary stories told of German submarines lurking just off the East coast, sometimes even landing spies. Due to the war, all the shades in our seasonal cabins located directly on the beach, had to be lowered every evening so as not to be seen by offshore ships.
Tony, Heather, Tom, our dog Jodi, and Jock at Dewey Beach. Summer 1944.
With the absence of suntan lotion at the time, after only a day or so, everyone was suffering serious sunburn and a few blisters. Our burns were treated with Johnson’s Baby Oil. By the end of summer, our painful burns had transformed us into handsome, bronze figures.
In time Jock and I were taught how to surf-fish by a couple of professional fishermen who frequented the beaches searching for offshore schools of fish. Wading into the surf, long poles in hand, we soon learned to cast beyond the waves. Squid was the popular bait. Our catches surprised occasional beach walkers. With regularity we were able to catch small bass, fluke, blowfish and, occasionally, two-foot baby hammerhead sharks caught close-by at Rehoboth Beach. Jock and I killed the sharks with a scaling knife, leaving them behind. We thoroughly enjoyed our bass and fluke at dinnertime. Occasionally, needy people would stop to ask for a fish or two for themselves. With but one surfing rod between us, Jock and I would take turns fishing all day. We found that each cast offered a different thrill as no two casts were the same. In the years ahead, both of us would become accomplished fishermen. Curiously, I never really enjoyed eating fish.
Later, during those summers, I was introduced to bottom-fishing, particularly flounder, off nearby bridges. And, later while using fish heads for bait, Dad introduced me to the art of crabbing in the nearby bays. Crabs were one of my parents’ favorite shellfish.
Tony after catching some flounders. Bethany Beach, August 1947.
It was during one of those summers I met a U.S. Naval Academy cadet who was spending time with his parent’s nearby. His sparkling summer white uniform was something to behold. Over the course of the summer, I threw a lot of questions at him about the Academy. It was not long before I realized my dream was to attend the Naval Academy. This passion would remain with me for the next dozen or so years.
