A Time to Remember

MHs hkkukkt kh an< is campbri.i. STOP*; HARBOR - Do you know thal Stone Harbor, a few years ago, had its own railroad 1 Yes, its train ran from 96th Street anil Soeond Avenue to Cape May Court House twice (or maybe oftener) each day I was a child then and ip the eighth grade in the lovely twostory school in Stone Harbor. That was some great school, too. Besides the regular studies,we had one teacher for sewing and another for rooking I loved it all! To this day I recall two things we •made in cooking class one was fried hananas (and are they good'> and the other was popovers Toward the end of the year we gave a dinner for our parents, with pumpkin pic for dessert We were all very proud of that dinner. There was an older school that was no longer used for classes. It was used as a churchlnstead, and , Its basement was the town jail However, no one was in it most of the time, for it was a quiet, peaqeloving community, and, as the chief of police. Mike Lennon, boasted: "We don't lock nobody up in Stone Harbor." There were dozens of vacant lots then and all covered with handsome bayberry bushes and sea goldenrod That grew along the sidewalks and in peoples' yard Because it was plentiful, it was not properly appreciated, (though I always thought it was gorgeous ) One has to hunt now davs to spot it. Too bad, but some fulkjS think it's “just a weed." THK LUTHERAN Church was Ixnng l)uilt then and we kids spent hours after school watching its progress The organist in St. Mary's Episcopal Church was a girl "(Ruth Smith),in my eighth grade class and I always marveled that one so young could be so accomplished Her father worked on that railroad and my father was the engineer so she and I could ride free Often we were each given a nickel to get a sour pickle in the "Company Store" adjacent to the railroad in Court House, so after school we'd take the train, buy our pickles and munch on l hem during the return trip home Those were golden days. Another delight was buying ice cream cones (for 50 at the place nbw

called Springer’s. OUR CHRISTMAS enter tatnments were held in the “church" (old school) and I can still picture the lovely green velvet dress my mother made me in which to speak my piece. On warm days we swam either in "The Basin" or in the ocean and sometimes we fished from the boardwalk. Jean Supplee’s father built her a little rowboat and she and I used to get in it and fish in the channel almost every Satup day. There were very few cars on oW streets and quiet days land night's were blissful. Somewhere around (I never found out just where) a man housed his plane. It was open, of course, with those old’ flat, stationary wings, and on bright days he’d flit along the beach in it. We kids were mesmerized by that! I recall one grocery store on 96th Street, but a man named Swain used to come over the bridge and sell groceries door to door. I suppose he had some sort of a car, I can’t remember, but if he’d had a horse I’m sure I’d recall that. Even bicycles were scarce then and I do not think f?ver saw even one kid on roller skates.

A MOVIE HOUSE was not far from the bridge. I went once. I was terribly bored and the air was stale, the story didn't appear to have any plot,- the captions would disappear before we had time to read them and I never went again. Stone Harbor then had one other really remarkable thing: an excursion boat that chugged to and from Wildwood. Most folks thought it was a grand outing. Mother took me once and I got dizand our floors moved up and db^n and our furniture wavered allJthat evening. That was my fiyst experience with sea sickness md, though I never wanted to go again, I'm still glad I made that one trip. There was always a friendly rivalry between Avalon’s good folks and 1 Stone Harbor’s. Wherever you lived — that was the much better place. I had cousins in Avalon and I suppose it was comical how "heated up” we’d get while claiming ours was the more attractive town. I often wonder if this healthy civic pride is alive to this day. I hope it is — it provides lively conversation and sparks a desire to prove the claims one makes for one's own community. AFTER THOUGHT: As I read

my piece over I have to admit that the FEW YEARS about which I write in the first sentence aren’t really FEW at all, but iSiCt it nice to dream of days gone By and have them so clearly etched ih our minds — especially such good memories! Mrs. Herbert Francis (Clare) Campbell is a freelance writer and poet. The old postcard photos are from the collection of Marie L. Mehan of Stone Harbor.

q *ner > ^ w by Leslie Steyson q* Cardinal Sins 30 By Andrew M. Greeley Father Greeley’s newspaper columns have long been a reading habit for both Catholics and non-Catholics. But I had put off reading The Cardinal Sins (now out in paperback) because it’s not easy for those who are essayists and columnists to successfully make the transition to fiction. William Buckley did it; his mystery stories are delightful. I was pleased to find Father Greeley can take a high place among other popular novelists. The story, which takes place frqm 1948-1981, is about two Chicago boys who become Catholic priests. Kcfcin Brennan is the son of a well-to-do family, and is satisfied with his role as parish priest and ^riter on ecclesiastical subjefits. Patrick Donahue, son of a sanitation worker, is ambitious to rise to positions of power. Two young women they grew up with, wealthy Maureen Cunningham and poor Ellen Foley, find their lives entwined with each other and the two priests. THE AUTHOR DOES THE difficult job of showing the human frailities of priests, but with it gives an understanding portrayal of real spirituality of the church. While he grieves for the less than perfect characters of his people, he balances their sins with their virtues. The book is hard to put down as we follow the lives of the four main characters, and absorb fascinating vignettes of priests, archbishops and cardinals, as well as the politics of electing a Pope. Any author who can give you a lump in your throat has captured your attention. We are happy to see that Father Greeley has a new book out, still inhardback Thy Brother's Wife. Leslie Steyson is the pseudonym for a very real area bookstore owner.