An old twist to a new story
We've been running stories about proposed plans to replace the bridge between Highlands and Sea Bright -- both towns withdrew support for the project earlier this month, preferring repair and renovation over a new span nearly twice as high that would obstruct views. They also appear to be fond of the current bridge, which, as one resident put it, is "part of the fabric of our community, and we need to protect it."
With that in mind, along with op-eds and letters we received, I was caught by surprise when doing some research into the Press archives to find a 75-year-old story about the bridge on the front page: "SEASHORE BRIDGE'S DEADLY RECORD: Highlands Structure, Declared Most Dangerous in U.S., Soon To Be Replaced,"
Jan. 31, 1932.
It's great stuff. The article talks about the "picturesque Dick Mount," shown in a photo looking every bit the bridge captain he was for, up until that point, 45 years. "Dick Mount said aplenty when he declared, 'Why, if I was to sit down right now and try to tell you of the accidents I've seen or heard of here, I'd still be talking when 1933 rolled around.'"
Mount describes his early years there. The bridge was open to boats only from midnight to 6 a.m. But he could close it, and did so for late-night partying drivers who paid him $5 per carriage -- giving his $65-a-month salary quite a boost: "The gay boys were the lads who drove down in style to the races at Monmouth Park. They'd come back about 1 or 2 o'clock in the morning feeling fine. They'd line up on the bridge and give me a hail and then I'd tumble out, collect my $5 for each wagon and then crank the old draw shut. Sometimes there were as many as 15 or 20 carriages, fine rigs drawn by fine horses."
Mount also told of a group that all filed past after only the first paid the $5 one morning. He got them back: when they returned, he didn't answer their calls, and they had to turn around and loop back through Sea Bright to Red Bank, then back north. Said Mr. Mount: "It was a sore and sleepy crowd that straggled home that morning, but they had learned their lesson."
Apparently, a crossing railroad line made it pretty unsafe, with many cars going the wrong way or off into the drink. "The children around here had a lot of fun when an ice cream truck went overboard. They flocked into rowboats and salvaged a lot of the ice cream before the water damaged it."
The townies of 1932 were a little happier about the bridge's replacement than the locals of today, nearly 75 years later: Mayor George Hardy told the reporter in 1932, "Yes, we'll all be glad to see the bridge go. It's a relic of the dark ages."
Funny thing is, the "fabric of our community" and the "relic of the dark ages" quotes are the last lines in the 2006 and 1932 articles.
How things can change.
With that in mind, along with op-eds and letters we received, I was caught by surprise when doing some research into the Press archives to find a 75-year-old story about the bridge on the front page: "SEASHORE BRIDGE'S DEADLY RECORD: Highlands Structure, Declared Most Dangerous in U.S., Soon To Be Replaced,"
Jan. 31, 1932.
It's great stuff. The article talks about the "picturesque Dick Mount," shown in a photo looking every bit the bridge captain he was for, up until that point, 45 years. "Dick Mount said aplenty when he declared, 'Why, if I was to sit down right now and try to tell you of the accidents I've seen or heard of here, I'd still be talking when 1933 rolled around.'"
Mount describes his early years there. The bridge was open to boats only from midnight to 6 a.m. But he could close it, and did so for late-night partying drivers who paid him $5 per carriage -- giving his $65-a-month salary quite a boost: "The gay boys were the lads who drove down in style to the races at Monmouth Park. They'd come back about 1 or 2 o'clock in the morning feeling fine. They'd line up on the bridge and give me a hail and then I'd tumble out, collect my $5 for each wagon and then crank the old draw shut. Sometimes there were as many as 15 or 20 carriages, fine rigs drawn by fine horses."
Mount also told of a group that all filed past after only the first paid the $5 one morning. He got them back: when they returned, he didn't answer their calls, and they had to turn around and loop back through Sea Bright to Red Bank, then back north. Said Mr. Mount: "It was a sore and sleepy crowd that straggled home that morning, but they had learned their lesson."
Apparently, a crossing railroad line made it pretty unsafe, with many cars going the wrong way or off into the drink. "The children around here had a lot of fun when an ice cream truck went overboard. They flocked into rowboats and salvaged a lot of the ice cream before the water damaged it."
The townies of 1932 were a little happier about the bridge's replacement than the locals of today, nearly 75 years later: Mayor George Hardy told the reporter in 1932, "Yes, we'll all be glad to see the bridge go. It's a relic of the dark ages."
Funny thing is, the "fabric of our community" and the "relic of the dark ages" quotes are the last lines in the 2006 and 1932 articles.
How things can change.
2 Comments:
Thanks for this great blog, Clare!
That said, put me down as a big fan of the bridge as well. Were it not for that bridge, I think it would take me an additional fifteen minutes to get from my home near Holy Cross in Rumson to Bahrs in the Highlands -- and that's by car. I don't even want to venture to guess how long it took those guys that screwed over Bridge Captain Mount to do it in horse-drawn carriages. :-)
Glad you liked it, it was a blast going through the old microfilm, reading old stories and seeing the ads, especially the old car ads.
I wanted to add a couple of great old photos from our archives -- one including captain mount -- but need new software so I can compress them. I'll try and post them soon, they're pretty cool.
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