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Sturgeon fishing docks at Bayside, NJ Photo from Rutgers University collection |
Landing a sturgeon at Bayside, N.J. |
Old and new happenings around New Gretna and vicinity
BLOG POSTINGS WILL BE MADE ABOUT ONCE A WEEK
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Sturgeon fishing docks at Bayside, NJ Photo from Rutgers University collection |
Landing a sturgeon at Bayside, N.J. |
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Ethel Wiseman Sprague, 102 years old |
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Ethel's daughter, Helen Sprague Toole, shows Ethel her birthday flowers. |
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Ethel scratching off lottery tickets she received for her birthday. She won $2.00. |
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Ethel got some beautiful presents. |
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Ethel blows out her birthday candles. |
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Ethel enjoying her birthday cake. |
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Ethel with her grandson, John Nelson, who operates a Jitney service in Atlantic City.
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E. Moss Mathis, owner of Clearwater Park Photo courtesy of Russell & MaryLou Mathis. |
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Local girls in their wooley bathing suits.
Photo courtesy of Steve Eichinger |
Budd Steele on the sandy beach at Lake Absegami Photo courtesy of Almira Cramer Steele |
Pete,
Do you or anyone out there on the blog knows where this might have been taken? This was in my Grandmother's pictures. There is nothing written on the back. It might have been part of a larger picture as the right side has been cut as it's wavy, not straight like the left side. She was born and raised in New Gretna. She was a McCambridge, her mother a Loveland, and her mother a Gaskill and her mother an Allen. All these families lived in the area so I'm sure it's from Burlington County somewhere.
Patty S.
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Occupy Wall Street |
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Pete,
I couldn't help chuckling while reading about the chicken tattooing. I don't think your readers realize the chicken theivery that went on in the 30's. it wasn't uncommon for someone to report that their chickens had been stolen in the night. I know that we were one of those that had experiences with chicken theives. There were a lot of chicken yards and henhouses around New Gretna about that time. Nearly everyone kept their own chickens.
I know we were victims. One night someone got into our fatteneing pen and took out two big old hens that we were fattening up for Sunday dinner. Another time we heard a lot of chicken commotion in the back where we had the large chicken house. My brother and I slept in the back bedroom facing the chicken house so we could hear it better than the rest. My brother, Jack, loaded up his shotgun which he kept handy and fired a load out there deliberately high so as not to hit anyone. Needless to say, it alerted the whole household out of deep slumber. My dad rushed into the bedroom wanting to know what that shot was all about. We told him what we heard, so he went out with a flash light and discovered the chicken house had been broken into. He found a knife the thief had dropped plus a lot of feathers and some chicken blood.
I remember Les Allen lost his whole flock one night, some 30 some chickens including Rhode Island Reds, Wyondots, and Dominics. They were considered a very good brand. We always kept mostly leghorns with some other brands mixed in. Earl Cramer also lost a good part of his flock one night.
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Les Allen Photo courtesy of Alston and Claie Allen |
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Earl Cramer and his wife, Elizabeth Photo courtesy of Norman & Leila Cramer |
A lot of people would call the State Police which mostly was a futile gesture. I remember reading, in the Tuckerton Beacon, about a chicken thief being caught in West Creek, so it wasn't just a New Gretna problem but was pretty well widespread at the time, especially during the war years.
During the war years there was hardly a family that didn't keep and raise their own chickens plus a lot of people had a hog out back of the house for their pork. They had what was known as a hog slaughtering day. We kids would gather around to watch it. It was so gory that most of us left shortly after it started. Some places wouldn't let us kids watch, as it was pretty bad, but that was a way of life then all along the South Jersey shore and inland also.
Don Maxwell
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Pauline Berry, Bobby Quinn's mother Photo courtesy of Bobby Quinn |
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Clarence Berry, Bobby Quinn's uncle Photo courtesy of Bobby Quinn |
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Bucky Lamson Photo courtesy of Betty Lamson West |
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(l-r) Debra, Barbara, and Marilyn West in 1962 Photo courtesy of Betty Lamson West |
A little silver fish we have to blame
For how our town got its name.
We’ve heard of towns from East to West
With names that seem to suit them best.
Bean Town - Big Apple - The Windy City
Now most folk think that’s pretty witty
To name a town for a thing unique
But to name a town for a fish? That’s cheek!
Wondering how it came to be?
Come back to long-ago with me.
When the bay and river produced the wealth
And added to the people’s health.
Long ago in a different clime
We can watch the scenes flash through our mind.
Up in the north in the cold and deep
Off
In the days of March when the wind is raw,
When the ice in the river begins to thaw
Something stirs within their heart,
And like their fathers before- off they start.
They take the long and ancient trail
Every season without fail.
This silver fish with streamline frame.
It never gained the sport man’s fame.
Cared not a wit about its fate.
Called it worthless, call it bait.
But how could they know of a time and place
And this lowly fish in the watery trace?
How could they know of the native here,
About the folk that counted this fish so dear?
They packed the fish in a barrel of brine.
Kept it in the cellar til winter time.
When breakfast came at early morn,
Wood stove burning to keep them warm.
Smoke from chimneys hangs over town
And smell of pancakes turning brown.
Salt fish poached and served up hot
With plenty gravy poured on top.
Think it strange fare as well you may
But this was the start of the bayman’s day
Let’s turn back now to a scene in the bay
The wind picked up since break of day
Nor-wester’s blowing cold and clear
A sail in the river is drawing near.
The boatman leans out over the side
Shouts “Let ‘em know far and wide.
The shoal of fish came through the bight.”
To him it was an old familiar sight.
The silver sides flashing in the sun.
The multitudes in the migration run.
It was Sunday morn this day in the Spring.
The Presbyterians were gathered and had started to sing.
The lad that was spreading the news all around
Had turned the corner and headed up
He knew the baymen, all but a few
Would be there in church in their usual pew
He pushed on the door. It flew open wide.
“Boys you better put churching aside.”
He shouted so loud his voice in a quiver.
“Hurry up boys...
‘HERRIN’ UP RIVER!”
The meeting broke up to the preacher’s dismay
How could a fish lure them away?
I’ll leave you with your thoughts on this.
Here in the town that was named for a fish.