Summer was always the best.

Bill Winslow

The dark clouds of the approaching thunder storm from the northwest embellishes the contrast of the old water stand pipe once located on Fourth Street. It gives it the illusion of being blacker than normal. Actually it was gray. The pipe supplied the water for our town of Somers Point. Later it was replaced by a huge water tank located now on Rhode Island Avenue.

With fear, wonder, and anxiety I watched the storms approach. Sometimes the storm would be a "Doozie" and other times it would be a "Dud". I remember that once during a small thunder shower a stranger was standing under one of the two large trees in our front yard on West Connecticut Avenue. My father invited the man in to our house to wait out the storm. I was seven years old at the time, and was so proud of my father for that simple act of kindness.

The character of the town was a form of trust we all shared while growing up in The Point. The same trust and innocence that allowed our parents to turn us loose to enjoy our learning years. I was six or seven when I started to explore the town without supervision.

School is out--- "No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers’ dirty looks"--- was the rhyme heard all over town on June 6^th. It seemed we went to school for a year, followed by a year off. Into the bathing suit, off with the shoes, down to the beach with a lunch of soggy Jersey tomatoes on white bread for our first day of emancipation.

After a week the first sunburn turned into a tan that kept improving as the summer went on. Our feet gradually calloused, enabling us to walk on virtually anything. The trip home from the beach presented the challenge of finding patches of grass to cool our feet from the hot pavement. An occasional bee sting in the arch of the foot slowed us down for a moment. Walking on blacktop was a no-no, making it necessary to run across the streets trying not to touch the road with the entire foot. This was, of course, the pre-flip-flop era. Even if we had had access to flip-flops, no real West Side Guy would have been caught dead in them.

The invasion of Pennsylvania license plates into our territory made it more difficult to maneuver through the traffic while on foot. Some summer folks would spent the entire summer at homes they owned or rented. Not realizing these were the invaders, we made some life-long friends that we still remember and keep in touch with.

A Mink soda bottle, with a string tied around its neck, and some bread made the ideal tool to trap minnows at the water’s edge. One could only watch anxiously and hold the string, waiting for a minnow to enter the bottle. There were those who could corral a school of minnows, splash them on to the shore and just pick them up one by one. I never had the knack (one of my many failures.)

Many a homemade boat would be launched at the beach by us kids. Sometimes they floated and actually did not sink when we tried to get in them. Half of the fun was in the building of these great projects.

One project that did prove fruitful was a hydroplane belonging to Ted Evering. Mat Fox had given Ted an old dry-rotted hydroplane that sat in Mat’s backyard on Fox Terrace at Third Street for several years. Ted, I and several others stripped it down to the ribs and keel, then were off to Smith’s lumber yard for some plywood, Eliason’s Hardware for brass screws, and off to my house to steal my father’s saw. Many hours were spent screwing the thing together. It was a huge success and we were delighted to find that when it was launched it floated. Chick Conover supplied a steering wheel and necessary hardware. Ted put his twelve horsepower Elto on the back and we were off. It handled and planed well and was quite fast.

After a few weeks we found if we took the fin off the bottom the boat did strange things. It became a great sport to run the creeks at high speed without the fin. Several times we had to drag it off the meadows because we missed a turn.

During a low tide we use to tread a few clams for Mom to make a chowder for us. We also carried penknives in our swimming trunks to open clams while standing knee deep at the sand bar. That, in my opinion, is the only way to eat a fresh clam.

Although we had the protected beach plus the entire bay to play in, we loved to go swimming at the sand pit, a playground forbidden not only by Mr. Brown (the owner), but our parents--making it even more fun. Besides, we could swim in the buff when there were no girls around.

Behind the sand pit was, "The Canyon", as we called it, also part of Mr. Brown’s property otherwise known as the gravel pit. We played an all-guy game called "Capture The Flag". We would choose up sides. Each team would place a flag in their own territory and then go into the other team’s territory and try to capture its flag. If you were captured you had to remain in jail until rescued by a teammate. Some time these games got a little rough but we were macho and could take it. Your team won if you had all of the other team’s players in your jail or if you found the flag and captured it and made it back to your territory. There was only one rule, no excessive torture to obtain information. (This property is now part of the great sports complex west Forth street, north of Rhode Island Avenue.)

We also swam at Lake Whitaker located near the 14^th hole at the golf course. That was the place to go buff.

There was also a swimming spot located along Patcong Creek that we called "Stony Bottom." This was the safe undetectable place to swim while playing hooky. The only way to get there was to walk west through the woods about a mile from the end of town, which at that time was Tenth Street. We usually did this during the first week of June because it was too cold in May. We always pushed the swimming season with these trips. We had to show one another that we were brave and could take the cold water.

The Seaside movie changed the show twice a week and we for the most part went twice a week year around. Eighteen cents got us in, with seven cents change from the quarter we received from our parents. Sometimes three of us would pool our change and buy a pack of cigarettes. While attending the movies we would park our bikes around back without fear of having them stolen. I cannot remember a bike ever being stolen.

We used caution going home on our bikes because if Bill Morrow caught us with no lights he would bring it to our attention. We all loved "The Chief" but did not realize it at the time. Many years later we would realize the influence he had upon all of us. I hope we did not disappoint him. He loved us all.

We had things to do in the winter also. The boys and girls clubs were the brain child of our beloved Bill Morrow. Although far more people were involved in assisting Bill with sponsorship and managing the sporting events for us kids. But, The Chief stands out in my mind as a god. But for him, Lord only knows where I would have ended up. The main lesson I learned from the Chief was to have respect for other people, people’s rights, and property.

Then there was the forbidden sand pit that in the winter would freeze to form our private skating rink. We usually pushed the season on this also by trying to walk on it before it was frozen enough to be safe. Safe usually meant, "Look,,, It holds me...Are you chicken or something?" Usually on a "Double Dog Dare" one of us would try the ice. More than once I walked home to change my wet clothes from head to foot.

We were also able to skate on a body of water just east of the hospital. Fresh water gathered there for some reason. I do not know if it was dammed up on purpose or just poor drainage, but it made a great place to skate. The area is now the parking lot for the Shore Memorial Hospital.

The only thing wrong with winter was SCHOOL! What a waste of good play time. I loved first grade. I must have loved second grade more because I spent two years there. Maybe I stayed the second year to hear Mrs. Reilly read, "Winnie The Pooh" again. She read it to every class. This is where my nickname of "Pooh" came from. I still have nieces and nephews who do not know that my first name is Bill. I squeaked through, third, forth and fifth at New York Avenue and headed to Dawes Avenue for the sixth, seventh, and eighth grades.

I often wonder if they ever knew who lit the time delayed fire cracker one afternoon in the hall when we were in the seventh grade. That was an engineering wonder. It took ten minutes for it to go off. I now confess, Leroy Browshard and I were guilty. Maybe that is the reason he and I were chosen to repeat that grade. Just when I thought I had it made and would get out of there they started the first ninth grade.

Most kids went to Ocean City High but a few of us went to Atlantic City Tech. I took auto mechanics and wound up in the airline business.

In 1956 I was very lucky to land a job with Allegheny Airlines at Pomona, loading airplanes. I later learned to write tickets and answer telephones to make reservations for our customers. The cost of a flight from Pomona to Philadelphia was $6.60. The $.60 was a temporary war time tax that is still included in your present air fare. During 1959 I transferred to Philadelphia International Airport as a supervisor. While in Philadelphia I became the first assistant manager in the history of Allegheny Airlines. It was a brand new position needing many different hats. During 1965 Allegheny started jet service. I performed all of the initial and recurrent training of all personnel for the new Douglas DC-9 aircraft.

In 1968 I became Customer Service Manager in Allentown, Pennsylvania.

On April 15,1966, Lillian Shunskis of East Lansdale and I were married. On April 15, 1968 our daughter Susan Lynn was born. In 1974 our second daughter Karen Lee was born.

After twenty one years at Allentown I was asked to transfer to Fresno, California, to help coordinate the merger with Pacific Coast Airlines. After a year all of the airlines were experiencing a financial disaster. Not knowing where I may have ended up I elected to take the sweetheart deal being offered to upper management and retire at age fifty-four. It was one of the best decisions I ever made.

After retiring I started a small one-truck delivery company. It grew in to a monster with more trucks, employees, partners, and the usual growing pains and headaches connected with any company. I decided to get rid of all my responsibilities to become the man of my childhood dreams and do nothing. I am finally a success at nothing.

My time now is spent playing with this computer. I learned most of what I know through trial and error. Graphics, digital photography, and web pages became my main interest.

The best education anyone can obtain is the one you get after you think you know it all.

------------- Bill Winslow

Me at 12 Years.