Since the Sunday spring tide debacle that drenched books and cell phones and led to a mass search for everyone's other flip flop on the Ventnor beach, I've been trying to get the whole moon-tide thing straight. We're on the verge of a new moon, which, it turns out, exerts as much of a tidal influence as its more-heralded big brother, the full moon. The unusually strong tides that occur during both the full moon and the new moon are called spring tides, as the moon and sun are aligned and both exerting gravitational pulls. If you can picture the earth's gravity pulling downward on the land, but not able to hold onto the moving water, and the lunar pull luring away the ocean itself, it's those opposite forces that result in the twice a day highs and lows that remind beach goers they are not at the town pool. Ok, so all of you knew all that already, but I needed a refresher course. Another factor: if the moon happens to be closer than usual, which it is this time of year, you can get really strong spring tides. (Spring having nothing to do with the season). Plus, the high tide this week has been in the late afternoon_ should we call that a happy hour high tide? _ which means that a typical beach goer is dealing with a rising tide their entire day. In any case, eroded beaches with fun little up and over ridges seem to give the tides the additional oomph that overwhelmed clueless beach goers over the weekend. As to the question of whether overall climate change and shifts in ocean levels will lead to stronger and stronger tides that claim more and more of the island, well, time will certainly tell, won't it. You may return to your previously scheduled work week, and happy July.

For more on the moon and tides...

Previously on downashore...

Mack's in Wildwood. Here's the view out from the counter. Mack's is related to Mack and Manco in Ocean City, which many a shore wag counts as the best, but I've had both recently, and there's no comparison. Mack's is the uncle's place, it predates Mack and Manco's by a few years and is going on 55 years in Wildwood. It's a similar kind of pizza, thin crust, same family, but I think what sets it apart is the sauce. It was just tastier at Mack's. Here's a website with some more history and great old photos of Mack's (it's a descendant of Anthony and Lena Macaroni's tomato pie in Trenton) . I'm sure there must be other contenders in the category of great Boardwalk pizza, offer them up if you please, but I'm also pretty sure Mack's is tops. Worth the trip.

Previously on Downashore...

With 4th of July just a few days away, sad news from Asbury Park. Madam Marie, the fortune teller truly immortalized by Bruce Springsteen in his 1973 song "4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)" passed away on Friday. Springsteen, of course, sang of Marie Castello: "Did you hear the cops finally busted Madam Marie for tellin' fortunes better than they do?" and the legend was sealed, though Asbury Park officials were saying today that she was never actually arrested. Costello, who told fortunes since the 1930s but closed her Boardwalk shop in 1995, told Asbury Park Press columnist Bill Handleman in May that Springsteen still came back to say hello. "He knows where he came from," she said. Madam Marie was 93. The American flag flying over the Convention Hall-Paramount Theatre complex in Asbury Park was lowered to half staff in her honor. Here's a link to the lyrics, as fine a boardwalk elegy as I know, and a link to the Asbury Park Press interview from May. And here's video of Bruce singing "4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy) from 1978 at the Capitol Theater in Passaic. Note E Street Band keyboardist Danny Federici, who died in April, on the accordian.

Ocean Galleries in Stone Harbor, which summer after summer insists on bringing actual cultcha down the shore to go with our Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA on tap at Fred's, this year offers up “Journey Through Impressionism” featuring artwork by more than 17 master artists, including Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Mary Cassatt, Paul Cezanne, Edgar Degas, Edouard Manet, James Whistler, four generations of the Pissarro family, and many others. There will be receptions with the show curator from 7:00 PM until 10:00 PM tonight (Wednesday) and tomorrow. The show is on display through Sunday. Last weekend, Alexandre Renoir, pictured, showed up to paint and talk about his great grandfather. The gallery is at 9618 Third Avenue in Stone Harbor and is open from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m.

True that. To which we offer a musical antidote: Wallace Roney on trumpet performing "So What" by Miles Davis at Birdland in May 2004. Roney, a composer and bandleader who has worked with Davis, Sonny Rollins and Prince, will be performing tonight at Kennedy Plaza outside Boardwalk Hall, between Mississippi and Georgia Avenues, as part of the Chicken Bone Beach Concert Series in Atlantic City. The Youth Jazz Ensemble opens at 7 p.m.; Roney will perform at 8:30 p.m. Admission is free. In other musical highlights of the weekend, the Beach Boys will be playing on the beach in front of the Hilton at 6 p.m. on Friday, another free concert. And the House of Blues offers up a triple play with 50 Cent tonight, the Neville Brothers on the Fourth and Gretchen Wilson on the Fifth. There will be fireworks a day early tonight at both the Borgata and Bernie Robbins Stadium (after the Surf game). Now, don't forget your wetsuits.

Everyone else has.

Margate Beach near Washington Avenue.

You know, for a lot of clouds and rain, the patient beach goer could get in three decent beach days this Fourth of July. Actually, it took more patience to be a Phillies fan this weekend. Seemed every afternoon yielded enough sun to make it worth your while, though the confluence of the sun peeking through on the beach at the same time as rain delayed Nadal-Federer presented some tough choices, the consequences of which are still being sorted through. (Even in London, among those who should know better, the delays led to some bad decisions.) And yesterday, the ocean even warmed up a bit to tolerable temperatures, probably in the mid 60s, though official estimates were still in the 50s. Was an eventful fourth, always good to bring in the far flung family to drag us locals to the beach every day. Here are some highlights, add your own if you please.
Stupidest police over reaction to shoobie invasion: Ventnor police were like circling Mento's water ice Saturday night, like the crowd waiting outside was going to burst into a riot. The only thing wrong with that crowd is nobody seems to get that you can just walk inside to order _ it's a second line, people _ and not wait on the outside line with the clueless. See? Now you know.
In any case, there was a car parked at the hydrant outside Mento's with an elderly woman in the passenger seat. A Ventnor police car drove up alongside, and sounded his siren, trying to get her attention. He flashed his police lights. No response. He then got out of his car, sized up the situation, and said into his radio, "Tow Truck."
Tow Truck?
When someone in the crowd (ok, me) pointed out that there was an elderly woman in the car, he said, "She was non responsive to my sirens." Then, doing some mental deductions, he made the tough call to wade through the water-ice eating crowd and actually locate the driver, who, naturally, was JUST GETTING ICE CREAM. He ordered her to move the car. Towed elderly mom incident avoided.
Best music: 50 Cent was pretty raucous on Thursday night at the House of Blues (see below for his birthday celebration), and the Beach Boys drew 50,000 people to the beach outside the Hilton, but for my money, it was the Neville Brothers on Friday night, also at the House of Blues who delivered the most memorable performance of the weekend. Gorgeous cover of Van Morrison's Crazy Love, instrumental Besame Mucho and a Heart Breaking "Change is Gonna Come" and just a great, memorable show.
Best barbecue decision: the box of oysters brought home, shucked, drizzled with olive oil, garlic and parsley and dropped on the grill for a mere five, not fiddy, minutes.
Here's a glimpse 50 Cent with his G Unit at the House of Blues, round midnight, as the third of July became the 4th. Happy B day Fiddy.

If there's a nicer time at the beach than dusk, with the ocean turning that deep navy crayola color, the sky flashing orange, people sneaking their dogs on the beach, families who don't want to pay beach fees appearing for an apres-six swim, I haven't felt it. And it truly is a thing to feel. A settled time, a high tide of contentment washing over everybody. This year, a walk or run down the Boardwalk in Ventnor at dusk has an added view: out into the ocean on the newly reopened and refurbished Ventnor Pier. The cost of the new pier, $3.2 million, was a major issue in local elections, but now that it's open, the newly elected officials seem rather pleased with it. And it is lovely. They've said they want it more accessible to non-fishermen, but so far, they seem unsure how to do that. They moved the two locked gates back further on the pier, and the first gate, they seem to want to leave open to spectators at least part of the time.

Right now, it has a handwritten 8 to 4 p.m., which seems kind of stingy:

Why not 8 a.m to 8 p.m. in the summer? Or, closed at dusk. But already, the local custom seems to have been set: leave the gate ajar when you leave. It's truly too nice to not want the next person to see it. That first gate will take you out to the first "T" with benches. Which is nice, but further out, past the gate that says you require a key, is even lovelier:

The key requires a form and $30 for non-fishermen, $90 to fish, for the season, which I guess they have the right to charge, on top of your beach tag, but it sure seems like the kind of amenity that should be open for a twilight walk, regardless of whether you knew enough to cough up the $30. (You can buy the pass on the pier during the day, or at City Hall).

Again, didn't seem hard to find someone to let you in, and walking to the very end at dusk was not to be missed:

Great view of the surfers:

Seems like in the summer at least, people should be welcome on the pier at least until dark. (Darkness at the edge of the pier did seem unsafe.) Then send the bicycle cops on the Boardwalk to lock the gate. It's also been striking to look at the pier from the Boardwalk and see so many people walking out to the end, to see movement on such an iconic structure. In the meantime, check it out if you're in Ventnor.
And leave the gate open for the next guy:

UPDATE: Today, at midday, the second gate was locked, so people walking onto the pier without a fishing key could only get halfway. And then peer, pun intended, through the gate at the rest of it. To which I say, why oh why? Especially because the new commissioners promised to make the pier open to all residents, not just the several hundred fishermen. It seems like if you at least have a beach tag, the pier should be open to you. All that money, why not let as many people as possible enjoy?

Ok, so this time, when we walked up at showtime to a sold out show at the Borgata, we only got second row seats, not front row center, like we did at the "sold out" Steely Dan show. But second row at the pint sized Music Box is plenty close to hear the larger-than-life still-bringing-it Retha. At the box office, there was a little suspense, as the ticket agent said all remaining tickets were still "committed," which I guess is what they call tickets that are not sold, but kept in case someone more important than you requests them at the last minute. But then, I guess, she was able to uncommit. And once, again, at the last minute, for face value, the best seats in the house, other than where Aretha's children and grandchildren sat. But why am I letting anyone in on this? (The House of Blues does one better: At two recent shows, George Clinton and Regina Spektor, they literally just gave us free tickets at the box office when we went up to buy them a little after showtime. Refused to take any cash.) Anyway, was a sweet show, Aretha even let her 11-year-old granddaughter Victory Franklin sing Alycia Keys' No One, coming to her assistance on an off-stage mike. She seemed relaxed and in fine form, telling stories of seagulls eating her hot dog on the Boardwalk, shopping at the Pier, and bragging of her Borgata hotel room with a well-worn joke about finding a man inside her room in the morning and calling police to tell them to come get the man "tomorrow." She apparently likes to keep things sweaty, as she requested the air conditioning be turned off. She sat down at the piano and played her fine gospel rendition of Bridge Over Troubled Water, which she also did during a truly sweltering Adrian Philips ballroom performance some years back. She seems to like it here, which is ok by me. Retha, if I'd won a million, I would definitely have sent you half, like you requested.

Intrepid shoobies! Used to be, I could tell the approximate temperature of the ocean by how many people were swimming in it. But no more. In this, the remember that summer when the ocean never warmed up summer, everyone's just going in anyway. Every day is Polar Bear day! Hey, it feels pretty good today, I think the ocean temp maybe cracked 60 degrees. Sixty four is feeling downright Carribean. The daily one paragraph Shorecast in the Press of Atlantic City has made for unexpectedly riveting reading as the unnamed authors (good job, guys!) brave the chill every day to get a reading on their thermometer. It's been brutal. Upwelling, upshwelling. As I am a person that does not call it a beach day until I've been submerged, this is getting annoying. Although, one day, a week ago Thursday, the ocean shot up to 70-something around dinner time, made for a gorgeous after-hours swim, but by morning, it was all a distant memory. Back in the 50s. It's a little comical. On one day, the air temps were in the 90s, but the chill of the water and the breeze had the lifeguards in sweats and jackets. But newly hardy beach goers braved the water nonetheless. What else can you do? Shoobies, I'm with you, go in anyway. I hate to say it, but the way it's going, I think September and October are going to be the new July and August, ocean temps wise. I'll be sure to let you know.

Ok, here we go....
Stoopidest shoobie question of the summer (as it turns out): "How is
the riptide affecting you? Pretty bad, huh?" This was asked of a
person about to set sail on a hobie cat off the Oxford Ave beach in
Ventnor. Ok, let's review. Riptides: undercurrents. Hobie cat: sails
on top of the water. Under. Over. On top. Beneath. When you're on top of the water, on
a trampoline powered by wind, those pesky undertows are irrelevant. At
least that's what my husband says. Personally, I thought it was a
legit question and turned to hear the answer.

Most persistantly dangerous shoobie driving move done in the guise of
isn't everything super relaxed at the shore mode: Waving
toddlers/moms/carts/beach chair laden groups of people across your
lane and into on coming traffic in the NEXT LANE over. This drives me
nuts. I get it, you're down the shore, life is easy, you give
pedestrians the right of way like you'd NEVER do in your own home
towns, but let's review: In a four lane, or even two lane, main drag, you're occupying only
one of those lanes. Therefore, if you play nice and wave the
unsuspecting people in front of your car, stopped in the middle of the
block, they will most likely get MOWED down by the people in the next
lane, or, just as bad, get stranded in the middle of the street. It's
a nice thought, but unless you're in a one-lane road, just keep
driving. They'll cross when it's safe. Though, you know, I appreciate the utopian vision you guys bring with you when you come down. I really do. And how I never know who'll be in my kitchen on any given morning. Hey, sure, help yourself to a beer.

Longest line for morning shoobie breakfast that locals know how to
circumvent: Outside Juniors Donuts on the bay in Margate. Last summer,
it was at Hot Bagels, where mere eye contact with the woman who gives
you bagels in January could get you to the head of the line. And every
summer, it's Mento's Water Ice, where the inside counter serves as a defacto
locals only express line. At Juniors, it takes a little more know how.
Haha. Think we're going to tell you? Let's just say, if you find the
right door and stick your head in, and know the right people, it's
instant donuts!

To be continued....

Previously, on Downashore

60 is the new 70 (Degrees)

Aretha and me and a not-exactly-sold out Borgata

Ventnor Pier: It depends on the meaning of the word 'access'

I've been spending a lot of time on the Dorset Avenue bridge this last week, mostly waiting for the crew boats to pass underneath. Last week was the final week for this season's chicken dipper program at the Viking Rowing Club, a fine program run by Ray D'Amico, the coach at St. Augustine Prep, which takes kids as young as 10, but probably younger than that even, and has them in eights along the manmade Inside Thoroughfare waterway that bisects the island, stretching from Albany Avenue (the Wonder Bar) past the Dorset Avenue bridge and up toward Troy Avenue. It was a quiet, rare joy to wait on the bridge with the dogs for the boats to pass under, contemplating the implications of the guy who lives in the tiny house with the enormous boat, to hear all the little person chatter in the boats, the arguing, the coxswains asserting themselves, for better or worse, the others in the boat correcting, the faces turned up when someone spotted you, the furtive waves and laughs. Sometimes the ocean gets all the attention at the shore, but I've found the best times can sometimes be found on the more peaceful inside waterways, where lucky homeowners have found themselves a little Venice in Ventnor.

UPDATE: Actually, today, there is NO view from the bridge, which I feel I should disclose even if it interrupts the mood of the above little reverie. It's totally fogged in as of 3:36 p.m., as it was this morning at 7:30 a.m. No view at all, just fog. Actually, that part of its charm, I think. Forget Venice, it's more like San Francisco today.

Previously, on Downashore

Shoobie awards, part 1
60 is the new 70 (Degrees)
Aretha at the last minute
Ventnor Pier: Give access a chance

Photo from Press of Atlantic City

This summer, it seems everytime I ask, what's going on with so-and-so, the answer is, oh, she's surfing now. All the moms be surfing, if you know what I mean. Except for the ones that are rowing in the back bays. What's with us this summer anyway? Chief surfing mom is Stacy Marchel, who was profiled here in the Press of Atlantic City. I'm suddenly seeing moms with their hatchbacks of their SUV's open to accommodate the surfboards they are now addicted to. But they best be careful. Here's an amusing story by Courtney McCann about surf rage. As in, if you're a beginner, stay out of the experienced surfer's way. Info on becoming a surfing mom can be had at Heritage in Margate, or by calling 609-823-3331.

Previously, on Downashore:
View from a bridge, and bunch of comments about whether the word shoobie should be retired...
Shoobie (or insert your own word for non-locals down the shore) awards, part 1
60 is the new 70 (Degrees)