Sunday, April 20, 2008

Salute to Noah Cherry and Judge Ron Castille

A Salute to Noah Cherry

Just off the shoulder of the Garden State Parkway at mile marker 6.2 sits the grave of black civil war veteran Noah Cherry.

For years, those who took the time to look have noticed how well kept the grave site is. During the warmer months it is maintained with fresh flowers, and being that Cherry was a veteran, there are new flags on Memorial Day and Veterans Day.

Although the grave stone simply reads: Noah Cherry, Civil War Veteran 1831 March 17, 1907, it is believed there are as many as eight graves at the sight, including that of “General” Askew, another black civil war veteran.

Rev. Paul Armstrong first noticed Cherry’s unkempt grave while commuting from Fort Dix to Cape May, where he was an inter-service minister from 1978 until 1984, catering to the spiritual needs of the Coast Guardsmen.

With the assistance of Edward Gingras, the grounds superintendent for that section of the Parkway, Rev. Armstrong had the grave marker secured on a solid base and arranged for the landscaping to reflect the site’s status as a resting place for the Civil War veterans.

“I’ve been attending to the graves for the past twenty years, and will do so for another twenty, or as long as I am able,” said Armstrong, from the porch of his 6th Street Ocean City home.

The graves led Rev. Armstrong on a quest to learn more about their occupants, a quest he continues today. He learned that Noah Cherry served as a private in Company H, 36th regiment of the North Carolina Colored Volunteers. While blacks were only one percent of the population of the north at the time, they composed 10 percent of the Union Army, and were paid less than the regular troops.

Both Noah Cherry and “General” Askew, who was believed to be a private and was later tagged with the nickname “General,” were part of General Sherman’s army that marched across the South to the sea, destroying everything in its path.

How Cherry arrived in Cape May County is a story entwined with that of George Henry White, one of the first black congressmen elected to Congress.

Born in Rosindale, North Carolina in 1852, White was enslaved until the emancipation in 1862. After working on his family’s farm and attending public school he entered Howard University and studied law. Upon earning his degree he was admitted to the bar in 1879 and taught school before entering politics.

Elected to the state house of representatives and then to the state senate, he attempted to improve public education and the training of black teachers. White was the only black elected to the 55th Congress in 1897, where he served on the Agriculture Committee. He served two terms in the House of Representatives from North Carolina and was the last former slave to serve in the U.S. Congress.

Retiring from political life White decided to establish a black community in New Jerse, where economic opportunities were better.

Before the turn of the century White visited South Jersey at the suggestion of Rev. James Fishborn, pastor of the Cape May City African Methodist Episcopal Church.

Life for blacks in Cape May at the turn of the century was not much different than in South where racism was rampant. In June 1901 Cape May City councilman R. J. Creswell refused to allow blacks on a city sponsored trip to Wilmington, Delaware to witness the launching of the ferryboat “City of Cape May.”


The city administration refused to allow blacks to attend the new high school, relegating them to the old and dilapidated Franklin Street School until a segregated wing could be built at the new high school. A local newspaper reportedly campaigned for African Americans to be removed entirely from the city, claiming the “colored population” loitered about Lafayette Street drinking and insulting vacationers.

In response, the Colored American Equitable Industrial Organization was formed to support the establishment of a separate black community, a town in the country.

The organization was said to have been inspired by Booker T. Washington, a friend of White, whose law firm represented Washington when he published “Up from Slavery” in 1901. Both White and Washington were present at a ceremony in Cape May County when they discussed the founding of the organization and developed the concept of a separate black community. Other national black leaders involved included poet and novelist Paul Laurence Dunbar, Harriet Aletha Gibbs, Wiley H. Bates and Samuel Vick, as well as local blacks such as storeowner Joseph G. Vance, hotel porter Wiliam L. Selvy and Rev. Fishburn.

In August, 1901, White, Fishburn and other investors purchased 1700 acres of land eight miles north of Cape May City in Middle Township for $14,000 from Robert E .Hand, some of which was known as the Creese Plantation. It was, quite ironically, property previously owned by Aaron and Thomas Leaming, the area’s largest slave holders before the Civil War. Some of the land was said to have been sorghum fields of the failed Rio Grande Sugar Company, but most of it was densely wooded tracks of land.

White convinced some of his former constituents, including Henery W. Spaulding, Noah Cherry and General Askew to move permanently to what became known as White’s and later Whitesboro. At first they cleared the land, selling the wood to Philadelphia merchants, and much of the money earned was from wood cutting.

Once the village was established, others came to visit in the summers. White set up offices in downtown Washington D.C. and in Philadelphia, where he sold lots for a dollar down and a dollar a month until the balance was paid. Later the price would be raised to $5 down and $2 a month.

White set up the White Reality Company, with an office at Wildwood and Main Street (Rt. 9) in White, N.J. where an official Post Office was established a few years later. A bank, a church and meeting hall were also built in 1904.

An advertisement read: “Have you a home? Why not? Dear Friend: Why not own home at beautiful Whitesboro, N.J., near the sea? Owning a home makes you a better citizen and a more desirable neighbor. There is nothing on earth like a place you can call home when you own it.”

By 1906 there were 800 settlers living in the new utopia. In 1908 the Mt. Olive Baptist Church was built and a year later a schoolhouse was constructed on land donated to the Middle Township Board of Education.

Among the first settlers were Henry Spaulding, a carpenter, and his wife Hattie, whose son Theodore Spaulding became the first black Judge to serve on the Pennsylvania Supreme Court.

In December 1973, reporter J.J. Merritt tracked down a longtime area resident Mrs. Gladys Spaulding, who knew about the graves, but referred the journalist to an even better source, Mrs. Viola Stewart, who then lived on Pacific Avenue in Cape May Court House.

Mrs. Stewart’s aunt, Mrs. Wiley Jane Williams, was a distant relative of Noah Cherry, who was then a 91 year old seasonal resident of Whitesboro and Washington D.C. While still of sound mind she was asked about Noah Cherry by a local librarian, so Mrs. Williams composed a typed, seven page manuscript of her recollections.

“Noah Cherry was my great uncle,” she wrote. “He was a Civil War veteran, one of the men who marched wit General Sherman to the sea. I first saw Uncle Noah when he came to Whitesboro shortly after we had made our home there in 1903…Like us he had come from North Carolina…a most industrious and hard working man.” According to Mrs. Williams, Cherry built a small frame house on Main Street in Whitesboro and sent for his family, then living in Norfolk, Virginia.

”He was a great help to my father,” Mrs. Williams wrote, “especially at hog killing time. In spite of the fact that he was left handed,, I have seen him use that left hand to strike down extremely large hogs, always with remarkable accuracy.”

“I used to love to hear Uncle Noah singing at prayer meeting, which was held in our home at 5:00 a.m. each Sunday morning. This was because at this time no colored church had been organized in Whitesboro. In my mind I can still hear him singing in his deep but clear baritone voice his favorite hymn by Isaac Watts…He sung it to the tune of Auld Lang Syne.”

Among her recollections Mrs. Williams recalled two strange incidents that occurred before Noah Cherry died. One “incredible incident” was when Noah Cherry came into the house out of the rain and collapsed on the floor, apparently dead.

While Mrs. Williams’ mother went out to get assistance, her younger sister Lena touched the hand of Noah Cherry, who, she wrote, “began uttering distinct moans and groans that startled everyone present. Now that he regained consciousness he was his old self again.”

What happened was that Cherry had hurt his hand and rubbed it with turpentine, which mixed with the rain created fumes which overcame him.

Mrs. Williams’ father later said that he was concerned about what to do if Noah Cherry had actually died, for there was no undertaker in town, nor a cemetery for Negroes.

Noah Cherry’s actual death was even stranger. “One night Uncle Noah heard a loud sound at his door,” wrote Mrs. Williams. “Whatever it was had left and gone through the darkness across the field in a great whirlwind and was shouting loudly, so loudly that it was deafening. ‘Lazarus Laws! Lazarus Laws! Lazarus Laws! It was a moan full, wailing, unearthly sound. Uncle Noah did not know what to make of it all.”

Lazarus Laws died that night, while Noah Cherry and a third man, who owned the house towards which Cherry had seen the apparition heading, died soon after.

Noah Cherry was buried in Block 1, Grave 1 in the Old Whitesboro cemetery. “General” Askew was also buried nearby when he died a few years later.

According to Merritt’s account, Noah Cherry’s house burnt down in 1924, his grandson died a few years later, with his sister dying shortly thereafter. Cherry’s great grandson “lost his mind” and died in a mental institution in 1943.

Noah Cherry’s grand daughter in law Mollie Cherry died in the late 1960s, “the last of the descendants of my late Uncle Noah,” wrote Mrs. Williams.

While some of those who were buried in that cemetery were reburied at the House of Ruth cemetery when the Garden State Parkway came through in the mid-1950s, the graves of Noah Cherry and possibly as many as seven others were left where they were.

“No one knows why,” said Rev. Armstrong, who is researching the background of Noah Cherry and would like anyone with more information to contact him.

Since J. J. Merritt quoted extensively from Mrs. William’s manuscript, at least one copy of it existed in 1973, but no one seems to be able to find a copy of it today. The diary of Whiley Jean Williams, which could contain additional information, has not been located.

A ceremony was held at the grave on Veterans Day to commemorate the new base and landscaping, and other small ceremonies will be held to honor the brave, black veterans, whose gravestones are now a Parkway landmark.

[Originally published in the SandPaper, Friday, May 22, 1998]

WMD In My Backyard

WMD IN MY BACKYARD –

By William Kelly billkelly3@gmail.com
The search for weapons of mass destruction (WMD) in Iraq may have come up empty, but from where I’m sitting in the middle of New Jersey, it seems that there’s plenty of WMD right here in my backyard. It seems that I don’t have to go far to find such WMD as missing mice infected with biological warfare diseases, unaccounted for vials of liquid anthrax, nuke missile meltdowns and nuclear warheads missing offshore. It’s all right here. I couldn’t make this up, and we don’t need no terrorist to do it to us, it seems we shoot ourselves in the foot.
 
 
Just recently, as detailed in the local news, vials of anthrax are missing, along with three bubonic plague infested mice. Then there’s the BOMARC missile meltdown, complete with nuclear warheads, what they call a “Broken Arrow” incident that occurred at Fort Dix/McGuire AFB, which polluted the nearby ground and water.
 
 
Know any terrorists looking for some nuclear warheads? There’s two in the water a few miles off Cape May, New Jersey, jetsoned during an emergency from a military plane out of Dover AFB in Delaware, and never recovered. Just like Ian Fleming’s fictional 007 adventure “Thunderball,” in which two nuclear bombs are hijacked by the terrorist organization SPECTRE – Special Executive for Terrorism, Revenge and Extortion, for blackmail purposes.
 
Missing mice and anthrax, missile meltdown, nuke warheads lost offshore, we got it all. And each case study is a lesson in accidents that can get out of control. The most recent are the stories of the missing mice and anthrax.
 
MISSING INFECTED MICE AND ANTHRAX
 
Three bubonic plague infested mice went missing from a government lab in Newark in September, 2005, and not long after two-two inch tubes of liquid anthrax bacteria were reported unaccounted for at the New Jersey Public Health Environmental Laboratory in Trenton.
 
According to the Associated Press (Wayne Parry, Aril 26, 2006), “The mice were never located, and officials said the rodents might have been stolen, eaten by other lab animals or just misplaced in a paperwork error.” The three toxic mice were absent from their Newark lab affiliated with the University of Medicine and Denistry, where a scandal even more pressing than the missing mice forced the resignation of the director and sparked a federal financial probe.
 
“The Newark lab that lost track of the plague-infested mice conducts bioterrorism research for the federal government,” Wayne Parry Reported. “After the incident, the facility improved its video surveillance and stopped using contracted animal handlers. Before the incident, the center relied on a single security guard.”
 
The anthrax, kept at a more secure facility, was discovered missing during an inventory of more than 19,000 samples stored in a state laboratory, prior to their being relocated to an even more secure facility. 350 of 352 positive anthrax samples are accounted for. According to Lauren O. Kidd of the Gannett newspapers, “The state is obliged by the FBI to store the positive samples as potential evidence if a suspect is charged in connection to the unsolved anthrax attacks that killed five and harmed at least 17 in October 2001. The U.S. Postal Service requires the state to store the thousands of negative samples as well, officials said.”

 
“In both cases, authorities say they think the items in question weren’t actually lost, but were simply unaccounted for due to clerical errors,” wrote Parry.

 
“It is likely that the discrepancy is an inventory or clerical error and not truly missing samples,” said state epidemiologist Eddy Bresnitz.
 
Rutgers University microbiologist Richard Ebright said, “The fact that they don’t know the answer means they’re not running a properly secured facility. The odds are that it was an accounting error, but it is very possible that one of the persons with access to the lab has removed the material.”
 
 
Of the 300 institutions in the country capable of safely handling such materials, 16,500 individuals are certified and cleared to handle and possess deadly bio-agents, and only eleven people have such clearance at the Trenton lab where the anthrax was stored. All were questioned and cleared.
 
 
“The Trenton lab has multiple levels of security,” writes Parry, “including a padlocked containment area requiring two different sets of identification for access,…video monitoring and 24-hour security guards.”

 
“Samples of anthrax have been stored at a Trenton lab since shortly after the October 2001 anthrax mailings that went through a Hamilton (N.J.) post office, killing four people across the country and sickening 17.”

 
“The chance that these two positive specimens are somewhere outside of the laboratory is very small,” said Bresnitz, noting the missing anthrax is, “not in a mode that we think could be used as weapons. The spores would have to be put into an aerosol form to be used as a weapon, which would take a high level of technical sophistication.”

 
Well, we know who has a high level of technical sophistication. As Rutgers professor Ebright says, “If an adversary of the United States, such as al-Quada, wanted to obtain this material, the most effective, simple procedure to do so is to plant a person in one of those numerous institutions that the administration has put in place working with this material. Because the number of those institutions has increased and because it happened without an increase in effective security, the risk to the United States has dramatically increased.”

 
Not rare in New Jersey, we apparently have an abundance of anthrax, as New Jersey’s Homeland Security director Richard Canas said, “I think the genesis was that they were inundated with samples. What I would like to see is bringing this number down. Let’s at least cull these down into something more manageable.”

 
Indeed. And if you see three lose mice running around that glow in the dark, please notify the office of Homeland Security that you found their missing rodents.
 
Then there’s the nuke missile meltdown, a “Broken Arrow” event.
 
BOMARC Missle Meltdown. June 7, 1960
 
The United States was in the mist of the Cold War in early June, 1960, when major cities and military bases were surrounded by batteries of anti-missile missiles, poised to be launched to defend the country against jet bomber or missile attack with thermonuclear weapons.
 
 
The BOMARC – was one such anti-missile system, and a battery of them were set up on the east edge of McGuire Air Force base in the New Jersey Pine Barrens. Surrounded by scub pine forests, a public nature preserve was just across the two lane blacktop highway from the line of missiles nestled in the woods. The idea behind shooting a nuclear warhead as a defensive weapon depended upon an advance notice being given to launch the anti-missiles so they could detonate high in the atmosphere and take out the incoming bombers and missiles with them.
 
Set to be launched on two minutes notice, the BOMARC missiles were poised skyward, set in a row a few hundred yards apart. On June 7, 1960, a helium tank under high pressure exploded, rupturing the fuel tank that caught fire.
 
 
It is what they call a “Broken Arrow” event, or “any accidental or unauthorized incident involving a possible detonation of a nuclear weapon by U.S. Forces (other than war risk); the non-nuclear detonation or burning of a nuclear weapon; radioactive contamination; the seizure, theft or loss of a nuclear weapon or component (including jettisoning); Public hazard, actual or implied.”
While McGuire AFB is now the home base to the state of New Jersey’s nuclear response strike team, they were a little less sophisticated in 1960

 
The local, mainly volunteer fire and rescue squads from nearby town of New Egypt, in Ocean County, responded to the explosion, and fought the fire with traditional firefighting weapons – high pressure water.

 
With the rocket’s fuel feeding the fire, which burned out of control for awhile, the nuclear tipped missile burned completely, and while there was no nuclear explosion, the fire melted the nuclear materials, which combined with the water runoff and contaminated the ground and the ground water below, which fed into a local creek.

 
One official report reads: Table 5-1: U.S. Nuclear Weapons Accidents, 1950-1980

 
June 7, 1960 / BOMARC / McGuire AFB, New Jersey
 
“A BOMARC air defense missile in ready storage condition (permitting launch in two minutes) was destroyed by explosion and fire after a high-pressure helium tank exploded and ruptured the missile’s fuel tanks. The warhead was also destroyed by the fire although the high explosives did not detonate. Nuclear safety devices acted as designed. Contamination was restricted to an area immediately beneath the weapon and an adjacent elongated area approximately 100 feet long, caused by drain off of firefighting water.’
(p. 228).
 
 
Another source is: U.S. Nuclear Weapons: The Secret History, by Chuck Hansen (Orion Books, New York, N.Y., 10003, 1988.

 
Also see: “The Greenpeace Book of the Nuclear Age: The Hidden History, The Human Cost” by John May, (Pantheon Books, NY, NY, 1989)

 
While the event took place in 1960, on July 29, 1999 it was announced from McGuire AFB that, “Officials at McGure AFB say they have hired a South Carolina firm to clean up radioacative plutonium that leaked during a 1960 fire at a nuclear missile site. The Trentonian reported that the cleanup was announced a day after federal authorities added other McGuire dump areas to the Superfund list….but not the missile site in Plumstead Township, which was abandoned in 1972.”
 

Under “Completed Actions,” the DOD report notes that, “Following the explosion that occurred in 1960, paint was applied to the shelter and concrete was poured over the most heavily plutonium-contaminated portions of the asphalt apron and floor area of the shelter. An asphalt cover was placed in the drainage ditch that leads from the shelter to the nearby stream to impede erosion of contaminated soil. Access to the accident area is restricted by a 6 foot chain link fence topped with barb wire.”

 
The nearby Colliers Mill Wildlife Management Area, a nature park just across the highway from the accident site, is a popular public camping and recreational park.

 
From what I understand, having talked with residents of the area, a local piney with a truck was hired to haul some of the contaminated dirt away from the site.

 
An extensive Public Health Assessment by the Boeing Michigan Aeronautical Research Center – of the “Broken Arrow” event at the McGuire Missile, New Egypt, Ocean County, New Jersey, concluded, “No apparent health hazards are associated with an explosion and fire at the BOMARC site in 1960, which released radionuclides to the environment via smoke, dust and water runoff from fire-fighting efforts. Workers responding to the accident, downwind at the time of the accident, or involved in cleanup may have breathed in alpha radiation when they inhaled radionuclides, primarily plutonium, carried on smoke or attached to resuspended soil, or they could have been exposed to small amounts of external gamma radiation.”
 
The report continues, “Given the lack of information about the exposure conditions at the time of the accident, it is challenging to accurately assess workers intake and does. Conservative estimates, however, suggest that radiation dose received during or after the accident are not expected to cause harmful long term effects or cancer.”
 
NUKE WARHEADS MISSING OFFSHORE 
 
JULY 28, 1957 – C-124 Globemaster Jettisons Cargo – 2 Plutonium-239 atomic warheads – within an area 100 miles southeast of the Naval Air Station, Pomona.
 
 
The Department of Defense has officially reported thirty-two serious accidents involving nuclear weapons, three of which occurred while transporting weapons from one place to another, using the C-124 “Globemaster” transport.

 
Destination Europe, the C-124 with three weapons aboard took off from Dover AFB in Delaware, but immediately began experiencing engine trouble. In order to avoid crashing into the water, the crew jettisoned two of the weapons into the water.
 
According to a 1981 report by the Center for Defense Information [ Washington, D.C. #0195-6450 The Defense Monitor (Vol. X. Number 5) U.S. Nuclear Weapons Accidents: Danger In Our Midst – republished by MILNET – http://www.milnet.com/cdiart.htm ]
“On July 28, 1957, a C-124 jettisoned two weapons from a C-124 aircraft. There were three weapons and one nuclear capsule on board the aircraft, though nuclear components were not installed in the weapons. Enroute from Dover Air Force Base, Delaware, “a loss of power from number one and number two engines [of four a major problem for this aircraft when carrying extremely heavy atomic bombs of this era ] was experienced. Maximum power was applied to the remaining engines; however, level flight could not be maintained. At this point, the decision was made to jettison cargo in the interest of safety of the aircraft and crew. The first weapon was jettisoned at approximately 2,500 feet altitude. No detonation occurred from either weapon. Both weapons are presumed to have been damaged from impact with the ocean surface. Both weapons are presumed to have submerged almost instantly. The ocean varies in depth in the area of the jettisonings. The C-124 landed at an airfield in the vicinity of Atlantic City, New Jersey, with the remaining weapon and the nuclear capsule aboard. A search for the weapons or debris had negative results.”
 

 
“The weapons were jettisoned within an area 100 miles southeast of the Naval Air Station, Pomona, N.J., where the aircraft landed,” the MILNET report notes. “The two weapons are still presumably in the area, somewhere east of Rehobeth Beach Delaware, Cape May and Wildwood, N.J.”
 
Even though this incident took place in 1957, you can be sure that bombs are still there. “Plutonium-239, an isotope used to fuel atomic bombs,” the report dryly notes, “has a half-life of 24,400 years and remains poisonous for at least half a million years.”
 
The problem is – who is looking for these lost nukes? Nobody. If we don’t keep looking for them until they are found, then the terrorists will one day most certainly go looking for them.
 
Nor do we know what long-term effects of these nuclear accidents if we don’t find out what happened to them and monitor the affected environment.
 
Under the DOD definition of a nuclear accident, the jettisoning of nuclear warheads is a “Broken Arrow” event #4 – “Seizure, theft, or loss of a nuclear weapon or component (including jettisoning);” a “Public hazard,” whether “actual or implied.”
 
The DOD report on nuclear weapons accidents concludes “the increased numbers of nuclear weapons suggest that more accidents and perhaps more serious accidents will occur in the future.”
 
William Kelly -

Back to the Lake

Back to the Lake

BACK TO THE LAKE

Browns Mills. Before the Jersey Shore it was always Browns Mills for the summer, and usually a late Friday afternoon when my family and friends would pile into my father’s car, leave our home in Camden and head for the small community nestled next to Mirror Lake in the middle of the Pine Barrens.

I knew every landmark on the 40 mile route from the city to the country, having traveled it so many times, and couldn’t wait for that roller coaster pitch in my stomach that would come when we got to the “hills,” actually just bumps in the road, not far from the Pine Barrens Commission headquarters that signified the entrance to the town that held some special magic for me.

Not far from Fort Dix and McGuire Air Force Base, Browns Mills is now famous as the home of Deborah Heart and Lung Hospital, but those institutions don’t reflect onMirror Lake, which you can’t see until you leave the main part of town and turn the corner past the bus station.

There was the Pig N’ Whistle Inn, a colonial era tavern and stagecoach stop, on one side of the road and a house on a hill that was Kay’s Gift Shop. Down a bit further there was a pizza restaurant next to the damn that flowed into a stream that, by canoe, would eventually carry you to the Delaware River.

The inn burned down years ago, and there’s a McDonald’s there today. The bus stop is gone too, and the gift shop is now a bank. But the lake is still there, and the places that meant something to me growing up haven’t changed all that much.

The road still winds around the lake that was once lined with private docks belonging to families with homes nearby. Most, like ours, were vacation homes, country retreats for those who wanted to escape the city in the summer. Our white stucco house, which my father and my uncle built with their own hands, brick by brick, is the last of a few small cottages at the end of a dirt road. It has a fireplace and a picture window facing the Little Lake, the small lagoon off the big lake, Mirror Lake, at the other end of the street.

In the winter, when there aren’t many leaves on the trees, you can see the house across the little lake where my Aunt Jane and Uncle Jack lived in the summer and holiday weekends. You could walk across the 100 yards if the lake was frozen, as it was much of the winter. My father was the biggest so if the ice would support him, it was good for everybody. A fire in the barbeque pit was good for hot dogs and marshmallows.
In the summer you visited them by row boat or canoe, or walk around to the bridge my uncle Babe built along the path through the woods they used to get to the dock on the big lake. You might pass aunt Jane on the trail, heading for the dock with a towl and a bar of Ivy soap, the kind that floats.

Uncle Jack always had something going on. He was either oil painting ships, putting up the hammock, tether ball pole, or badminton net, but always took a break to take us in his little Porsche to the bus stop market for ice cream and a ride around the lake. I don’t know how six cousins fit into that little car.

Then he’d drop us off at the dock where we’d dive or cannonball into the lake, driving Aunt Jane out of the water, and race to the neighbor’s floating pontoon platform out in the deep part. As we’d pull ourselves onto the bobbing float I’d swallow the brownish cedar water, and then lie in the sun until dry.

There were drownings all the time, and you thought about it when you heard an ambulance screaming around Lake Shore Drive, but they were usually city slickers out of their element. We had been baptized in this lake when we were born and felt invincible. But we did practice the buddy system, wouldn’t go swimming alone, and if you wanted to swim across the lake you had to follow a row boat.

Power boats weren’t allowed on the lake, so it was often filled with rowboats, canoes and sailboats in a soft breeze, gently floating nowhere.

We would take a canoe to explore the swampy source of the lake. Catching frogs and turtles with your bare hands is a patiently crafted skill, and dusk is the best time to catch fish. Rolled up pieces of wet bread make good bait for catfish, and you only feel squeamish the first time you learn to grab the flopping fish from behind the gills to remove the hook.. No matter what the size of the catch, the fish are thrown back to be caught another day.

Sometimes, on really dull days, we’d cast off a plastic model ship into the little lake, a toy that took hours to build and only a few minutes to sink with a BB gun.
Then there was the time a state Fish, Game & Wildlife agent came out of the woods behind our house and gave a ticket to my father for fishing without a license. Dad had his day in court, explained how he was teaching my brother to cast a line, and besides, the agent had to trespass on our property in order to catch him. Not guilty.

Breakfast with Uncle Jack meant blueberry pancakes, wild berries you had to go pick yourself.

After dinner we’d meet at Uncle Jack’s to play flashlight tag in the dark while the older folks played cards on the porch.

If you stayed overnight at Uncle Jack’s house, which was usually crowded, and didn’t get a bed, you had to sleep on the bathroom floor, which would earn you name painted in oil on the bathroom wall.

There were seven brothers and sisters in my father’s family, so there were always a lot of cousins running around, and their names are all on that wall.

We would sleep either in the bunk beds in the side room, or in the attic, where the stars would shine in the window through the pines, and we’d fall asleep to the sounds of crickets and frogs croaking into the night.

In the morning, a woodpecker would wake us up and we’d go outside to pick blueberries that Uncle Jack would put into the pancakes.

Then we’d have to wait for an hour before we could go down the path through the woods to the big lake for a dip in the lake, because one of the rules was you couldn’t go swimming on a full stomach.

We didn’t put our shoes on until Sunday, when we went to church – St. Ann’s in the Pines.

It went that way every day, all summer, from Memorial Day until Labor Day, for years, until we became teenagers, discovered girls and rock & roll, and started going down the shore where the action was.

And now I find myself sitting across the table from Uncle Jack, drinking his iced tea that tastes just like the big lake, saying how every time he runs into a cousin they say, “Browns Mills. Let’s go back there because they were the best days of my life.”

And Uncle Jack said, “We still go up there for weekends in the summer, but nobody comes to visit us anymore.. You’re welcome. It’s still the same. You can get everybody back there if you want to, but that was a special place at another time, and it’ll never happen again. That, I think, is what Thomas Wolfe meant when he said, ‘You can’t go home again’”

[Originally published in the column Kelly’s People – The SandPaper, Friday, Dec. 16, 1988]

The Story of the White Deer

THE STORY OF THE WHITE DEER

One night a few years ago I was driving home after visiting some friends on the other side of Mirror Lake from where I live.

Instead of going back to the damn I went around the far end of the lake, as I had done many times over the years.

As I was making a hard turn near the end of the lake, I came across a half dozen white deer that were standing in the middle of the road, forcing me to break hard and come to a complete stop in order to avoid hitting them. There was one big buck and four or five other smaller ones, but they were all white as sheets. The big one just stood there and looked at me as the others ran off and then meandeared into the woods behind them.

The next day at JC's, the local bar, I mentioned the herd of white deer I had seen the night before and everyone knew all about them. There were more, probably over a dozen all together, and a few mixed, brown and whites.

Not albinos, they were white deer.

I looked up white deer on the internet and found that there were a few out west, and a larger, protected herd of white deer on a military reservation in upstate New York. Still, they are a rarity.

CBS News story about White Deer at Seneca, NY Army Depot:

http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2006/12/16/eveningnews/main2274463.shtml

Later on I went for a drive to the same area I had seen them before, just before the curve at the far southwest end of Mirror Lake, and about one block off Lakeshore Drive I saw what I thought was a white doberman standing on a sideroad. I stopped, backed up and sure enough, it was a small white doe. I drove up and it scooted off into the woods, but only about ten or fifteen yards and stopped to eat some more. I drove up to about twenty yards of it and it never ran off, just took its time eating some schrubs, so they are very used to people.

One of the regulars at JC's, Tommy, said his mom lives right along there and sees the white deer all the time in her back yard. She has pictures that Tommy let me make copies of that I'll post as soon as I figure out how to post pictures.

Then I found one photo already posted online at Roger Beckwith's wwwroadhousereport.com.

Roger lives in the same neighborhood and sees the white deer all the time too.

If you scroll down the Roadhouse pictures past the Asbury Park scenes, Billy and Roger at the Stone Poney, you come to a white deer in Roger's backyard.

http://www.angelfire.com/nj/Roadhouse51/pictures.html

Come last November, hunting season, and local hunter and JC regular Michael, was proud of the fact he bagged a white buck, as did his son, whose name is Hunter.

Both of these white deer were from a different herd that is located near 4 Mile Circle, about ten or fifteen miles away, but not that far.

Michael said that some hunters around 4 Mile told him that the white deer came from an overturned truck that crashed near the circle. The white deer, they said, came from China and were being transferred to a zoo somewhere when they were released in the accident.

Although I have yet to find any record of such a truck accident, I did Google White Deer China and came up with the White Deer Academy, an ancient school in China where white deer are legend.

Located in the Five Old Men Peak, the White-Deer Cave Academy is one of the earliest institutions of higher learning, and was named after Li Bo, who raised a white deer during his study here. Li later served as the Regional Chief of Jiangzhou (Jiujiang today). The academy is one of the four famous academies in China, along with Shigu in Yunnan, Suiyang in Henan, and Yulu in Hunan.

http://www.china-lushan.com/english/scenic/011.htm


http://travel.webshots.com/photo/1542590522080160604BWUqyK


http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/english/doc/2004-07/22/content_350692.htm


Spoted White deer on Youtube:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=0tArW4yW4WE&watch_response


Diagram of the Rules of the White Deer Hollow:

http://faculty.washington.edu/mkalton/10dia%20ch5%20web.htm


Will post the photos of the white deer taken by Tommy's mom as soon as I can.

BK