ONE OF THE FIRST OF THE "FLIPPERS"
Some time in late 1953 a family of four ventured from the suburban wilds of Westfield, NJ to spend a weekend adventuring in one of the most unlikely of all places.
Back then roads were beginning to improve to the point that automotive travel not only began to become in vogue but actually practical. The New Jersey Turnpike was in place. The Delaware Memorial Bridge was something at which kids stood in awe. State Route 13 in Delaware was mostly four lanes south, and Maryland roads seemed cleanest in the nation.
Destination Rock Hall, Maryland!
Population at that time around 2,400.
Population today around 2,400!
The reasoning on my father's part was simple. He was doing what I do whenever I write some article like this.
He was going back!
After college sometime around 1932 my dad had gone to work for a dairy cooperative and his territory was the eastern shore of Maryland. He was bringing his family back to discover that which he had some 22 years prior. By this time he was successful in New York City and we lived in a bedroom city of commuters. He wanted his kids to see what "Real" life was. I will be eternally grateful because it started me on an odyssey that has lasted all these years.
By the time the weekend was over, he had bought his first house in Maryland!
You went down Rt. 20 from Chestertown to Rock Hall, passed Remington Farms, and through the only flashing light in town. One had to be careful for two reasons. Town income was dependent upon foreigners driving down on week ends and traffic tickets seemed the easiest way to get the income going. The cops normally hung out at the old dump on Rt. 20 which is now part of a huge marina. The other reason was the local dogs seemed to find the middle of the road very warm to old bones and they tended to nap there. You just drove around them!
State Rt. 20 ends abruptly at Gratitude. So abruptly that a few of the locals fired up on joy juice on Friday or Saturday nights were known to miss the stop sign and end up literally in the bay. If they had been sober enough to make a right turn, they would have been on Lawton Ave in Gratitude and that is where my father started to buy property. At one point he owned three pieces of land and homes on the waterfront. Total taxes were $900 a year for all three. That is the only part of the "Real" life he introduced us to that is now just a fantasy.
The first place on Gratitude
This house was purchased first and sold in 1971. It was owned by "Miss" Lotty Strong and was forever known as Miss Lotty's place. We completely renovated the place and it had a beach lot across the street on entrance of Swan Creek into the bay. The view from this place of two islands offshore that once comprised Swan Point, was the first photograph I ever sold. A local magazine cover.
Because of the noise and rowdiness at the small hotel next door during the Goose hunting season, my father made the next purchase. A place we never really lived in for any amount of time. He figured the only way to control the noise was to buy the place.
It had 13 bedrooms. My job that first summer there was to paint the interior.
230 Gallons!
Ultimately we took the back section off this place and moved it across the road to the final waterfront place he owned. This is the place where my kids grew up vacationing and you could not ask for anything more. A long dock, a fast fishing boat, and a patio of brick which I laid along with my own grandfather.
This original property was known as the Jones property as was owned by a sea captain of the same name. At least that was what was told to us kids, my sister and me. The original house was four rooms on a line from the road out towards the bay. When we bought it, the only sensible way to clean it was to make a donation to the Rock Hall Fire Department. They came out with their engines and high pressure fire hoses. Opened the front door and blew everything right out the back door. It was then clean enough to renovate. The large section to the right is part of the hotel across the road and the garage to the left.
Why I remember the fishing. This was after the striper moratorium when the blue fish came into the bay in huge numbers. We could have caught so many as to start our own fertilizer plant.
This is also the place where I first met some of my oldest and dearest friends Ethel and Jessee. Of course they were much older than I at the time!
Some general scenes in and around Rock Hall harbor just to strengthen the memories.
Rock Hall is not only a sleepy old watermen's village, but now a bustling sailing mecca.
However, if you get up early enough and the fog is just right....you get the feeling of the old place.
I guess Dad really wasn't flipping houses. We lived in them all. And I know both my parents are watching over their great grand kids knowing that some of the wonders of the Eastern Shore will rub off on them as well.
Bless them both and I miss them.
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