new jersey Archives - Sanders Meanders

Get It While It’s in Season

My father woke up one morning and said, “I need some french-fried lobster.”

Not only is the first line of a novel I will not write, but it is also a fact. I might have been a teenager when that fateful morning occurred, but if I was, I would have been in just under the wire. Having spoken the words I need some french-fried lobster, he got into the Toyota and started it up. Mom and I followed him to the car, figuring it was best not to let him go on this quest alone.

He knew of only one place in the world where such things as french-fried lobster existed. The previous summer, we had made our way to the Jersey shore and found a place called Howard’s in Beach Haven, for whom this was a specialty. We arrived on Long Beach Island, found a hotel, made our way to Howard’s, had dinner, stayed the night, and drove back.

In my adult life, I have been plagued by the phrase Oh, I can’t do that. I think to a certain extent we all suffer from it, even those that jump out of planes for fun. It seems too simple: I want to do this, no one will be harmed if I do this, all it will cost me is time and effort, and in the end, I’ll have a story that will last the rest of our lives. And yet, we resist. That seems like a lot of effort for lobster.

But my father does this. And we have this story.

So when, for his 73rd birthday, he requested a return trip to Howard’s (with a stop-off at Rutt’s Hut for lunch), who were we to deny him?

It had been years since my Dad had been to the Jersey shore. We talked it over on the way there and it was possible that our fateful midnight ride to Howard’s had been the last time they had gone. My great aunt had a place on Brigantine when my Dad was a child, and that, we determined, had prompted our first visit. I remember seeing Atlantic City, circa 1978, saw the Boardwalk, saw a few other places mentioned on the Monopoly board, and that’s pretty much all I remember.

There’s a reason why it doesn’t cost that much to put up a hotel on Baltic Avenue.

I think the second time we came was when Great Adventure (now Six Flags Great Adventure) opened. They had a drive-through zoo, and the camels spit on the car. That’s pretty much all I remember.

We stayed in Toms River that year, and made trips to Long Beach Island (where Dad found Howard’s) and Manasquan. I remember Manasquan because we had ice cream there, and I got to eat ice cream on the beach, and when you’re under 10, there is nothing else in life.

Driving into New Jersey with my Dad up front and my Mom and Laura in the back, I became conscious of what the shore might be like on the weekend before Labor Day, the de facto end of summer. Resistance crept in. This could be crazy. Everyone could be on the beach for one last blast. The traffic might be at a standstill.

And yet, these notions, whether they would prove to be true or not, pale in comparison to this fact: we drove all the way from Upstate New York to do this, and we conquered it. Thirty years ago or not, we fought through all this once before, we can do it again. You got nothing.

It was nothing. There was some traffic, but it soon thinned out the closer we got. The sun was out and the world was generally at peace. We drove down the island, stopping at a few places of interest, including John Maschal’s Country Kettle Fudge. We stopped there all those years ago, I could remember, and it wasn’t that much different. Dad bought fudge, which is what he does, and we walked down to the bay, where there’s a boat landing, and watched boats pull in.

I decided to drive down to the end of the island while we waited for Howard’s to open. There’s an overlook to the beach which was new, and plantings on the dunes, which were new. It didn’t take long to realize this was all rebuilt, had to be rebuilt, after Sandy.

All that was left was our minor victory, to once again conquer the french-fried lobster in all its elusive (maybe not) glory. There was waiting line, but a mere trifle, for this battle could and would be won, to bed! For we rise at 9:30…

Oh, never mind. This looked like it would take a while. While we waited, I figured I might as well take some pictures around the neighborhood.

And then, to food and to make merry and to sound like a waiter in Medieval Times…Huzzah!

That’s the stuff.

I’ve been kind of joking about it, but it’s true. We all harbor these foolish resistances and tell ourselves that we can’t do things, even at the smallest level. Yes, jumping out of a plane when you’re afraid of heights seems like a crazy thing, especially if you don’t have a parachute, but it takes your fear and it crushes it. Those fears, whatever they may be, will stay with you no matter what you do. Despite what we think, they will never go away. But if you neutralize them, conquer them as often as you can, you won’t be paralyzed by them.

Yes, it’s a small thing. But that night all those years ago when we went to Howard’s on a whim, we told You can’t do this to shove it.

Thanks, Dad. Happy birthday.

From Japan to Sweden without Leaving New Jersey

I kid New Jersey. We all kid New Jersey. After all, it’s hard not to kid New Jersey when they present you with things like this:

(Those of you not from New Jersey, this is the Cannonball Loop from Action Park, a ride so unsafe they shut it down after a month. Reportedly they sent dummies down it to test it, and after one came down with all its limbs intact, it was declared safe.)

But say what you will about New Jersey, they do pull a Springsteen out of their hat every once in a while.

Laura’s sister Hannah contacted us a few weeks ago from Japan. She read up somewhere about a Japanese market called Mitsuwa which had all the comforts of home, provided your home is in Japan. There were several in California, one in Hawaii, one in Texas, and one—you guessed right—in Edgewater, New Jersey, directly across the Hudson from Manhattan. She asked if we were willing to check it out and we said Oh, gee, if we have to.

Since our Tokyo trip, there were many delicacies we were craving. We made a list. I made another list, or at least, I already had a list. This part of New Jersey was uncharted waters for me, and there were many, many signs I wished to capture.

I talked Laura in to going to Clam Broth House in Hoboken before we went to Mitsuwa, owing to the fact that a) it was technically on the way, and b) this is one sign I have been after for years. Clam Broth House closed a while back, but they kept their wonderful hand-pointing sign on top of a neighboring building.

This was what I was after. Everything else was gravy under the bridge. Or whatever.

(Again, non-New Jersey-type folk, you may have a predisposed notion of what a place named Hoboken may be like. Well, nothing could be further from the truth. Hoboken is one of the nicest places to go in New Jersey: historic and well-worth a visit.)

On to Mitsuwa, which didn’t disappoint, either. They have everything you’d see in Japan, from ingredients to onigiri (rice balls) to rice crackers to sake to…well, my favorite…

All this, and a food court complete with a ramen shop, a sushi shop and a bakery. We could have stayed all day, but there were things to see, places to go.

I wanted to get a few authentic Jersey diners under my belt, because honestly, other than Olga’s in Marlton, which was closed, and the Tick Tock in Clifton, I had missed out on some of these beauties. First stop was the Arlington Diner, in the shadow of a drawbridge on the Passaic River. Their sign had some work done to it lately, but it was still majestic with its twin signs, one parallel with the road and one along the front.

The plan was to go along River Road to the Lyndhurst Diner, but I wasn’t expecting a stop in between. Along the way, there was this old Auto Parts store, long abandoned, with gorgeous old neon along the top.

I’m guessing the word “Auto” was in the space between “Riverside” and “Supply”.

As I got out and started snapping away like mad, a guy in a pickup truck stopped at a stop light called out to me. “Hey, you gonna buy this place?”

I don’t know what makes people assume that. I’ve been asked this several, several times in at least four states. “No, sir,” I said, “but I’d buy the sign.”

He laughed. “I can’t help you there,” he said, and drove off.

Once I had my fill, it was off to the Lyndhurst. I had forgotten that this is one of the few signs I’ve seen that has neon on the side of the sign, as well as on each face. The sun had gone away, but that was still cool, because the black-and-white sign looked like it was in a black-and-white picture, despite the fact that it was in color.

“So how far away is IKEA?” Laura asked me when I got back in the car. There was one in Paramus we had been to before.

I checked my phone. “Only eight miles.”

“Well, then…”

Off we went to Sweden-by-the-Passaic. We took NJ 21 up through Clifton, when a thought occurred.

(Those of you who are from New Jersey know what’s in Clifton, but for the benefit of you poor, Jersey-starved individuals, it is the home of Rutt’s Hut, commonly referred to in my house as The Happy World of Hot Dogs. Those of you familiar with the comedy of the late John Pinette know that I must have heard the voice of the angels singing…ah-ah-AHHHHHH)

Three rippers from Rutt's Hut — Yes, please

So after lunch, we got back on the road to IKEA. Honestly, I thought I was done for the day, but as we passed by a 70s plastic sign for Parkway Lanes, I suddenly had a spark of memory: back in behind that thicket of trees by the overpass was a neon bowling beauty, an animation of three pins being hit with a bowling ball. Broad daylight, I thought, but who cares? It may not even be there.

We soldiered on to IKEA and picked up a few things. Eating there was not in our future, seeing as we had eaten enough for three lifetimes already, although Swedish meatballs, onigiri and deep-fried hot dogs are a trifecta like no other.

On our way out, we retraced our steps to Parkway Lanes. Easier said than done, because the exit only went west on US 46 and we needed to go east, but we managed to find a place to turn around and head in the right direction prior to reaching the Pennsylvania border, so that was a positive. In the rush to find this sign, I had forgotten to tell Laura what the main sign looked like, so the whole time she thought I was after the yellowing old plastic monster we had seen from the highway.

OH, she said, once we pulled in to the parking lot.

As I looked closer, I noticed there was some broken neon in some of the pins, so the animation looks like it’s a thing of the past.

I admired the bowling pin out front. It looked to me like some large bird might hatch out of it!

We headed back on US 46, because, as I’ve learned from experience, the best old signs are on the old U.S. highways. Sure enough, a few miles down the road, we spot a motel:

Normally with motels, I will ask first before shooting, but there was nobody parked out front, and I made the assumption that this place was no longer in operation. It wasn’t until I took this shot of breezeway bricks that I suddenly noticed something:

Um…those bushes didn’t grow that way naturally. As I hopped in the car and started off, we passed the office, and sure enough, there was somebody in there. So, please forgive me, good folks at the Pine Brook Motor Lodge. Next time I’ll check in at the desk.

And then, one last one for the road, the Parsippany Shopping Plaza. Laura saw this one in person and thought it was interesting, but later she commented that the pictures came out better than most of the others. It has two major things in its favor: a) it’s higher up, and b) it’s in a relatively quiet area. What this means is, it’s very easy to isolate the sign against the sky, like so:

A perfect end to a perfect day. Thanks again, New Jersey. You don’t disappoint.

When the Circus Left Town

Our life had been on hold for a few months while we prepared for our trip to Japan, so a lot of the things we had planned to do suddenly became available to us. First and foremost for me was the Circus Drive-In in Wall Township, New Jersey, very near the shore. This location had been on my to-do list for quite a while, and when I heard they had closed for good after the season last year, I had been cursing myself ever since.

In January, the word had spread that the Circus was about to be sold to developers, and therefore, demolished just as soon as it took to get a bulldozer or two out there. By the following months, community efforts had blocked that from happening, if only temporarily. I read up to see what was going on over there, but no word since the beginning of March. As we got in the car and headed west, I couldn’t help thinking they wouldn’t tear the place down and not tell anyone, would they?

Fortunately, the building and the sign still stand, so I don’t have to bore you with pictures of a vacant lot.

The weather people had predicted a terrible day for New Jersey, so of course I knew that would change. The clouds persisted across the state, which was fine by me. Bright and cheerful and sunny didn’t seem to fit the mood.

The Circus Drive-In sits next to a Jiffy Lube, which means that it will not be torn down in favor of a Jiffy Lube, so that’s at least something. We parked in the empty parking lot in front of our audience of workers, along with the car owners waiting while their oil was being changed. No one seemed particularly interested in what I was doing. Perhaps this was a daily occurrence.

I cursed myself once again for not making it out here while it was still running. So many questions: what was it like to eat here? How was the soft-shell crab they were known for?

Did that carousel on top of the building spin around?

There were paper hearts on the sign, which I later found out was part of a campaign around Valentine’s Day to show support for the Circus Drive-In’s preservation. Even in April, some of the hearts had remained.

I stayed for about a half and hour taking pictures. It made me sad to think of this landmark going away. Then I thought of all those other communities with all of their landmarks, places from my own childhood that I’ve taken for granted. How many signs have I taken pictures of that weren’t there the next time I drove by?

If you have a place like this in your life, visit it, show your support, enjoy it while you can. Maybe the Circus Drive-In will find a buyer who will restore it, but maybe it won’t. Let’s hang on to these great old places we hold so dear, before it ever gets to this point.

While were at it on this trip, we went over to see the ocean. The sun came out, and stayed out most of the rest of the day.

Heading north towards Asbury Park, we spotted a ghost sign on a building to our right. It was an old Thom McAn back in the day, but the building apparently has some music history connected to it. Apparently Springsteen and Southside Johnny used this place as rehearsal space back in the 70s.

A little farther down and we got a view of the second sign I could cross off my list that day, Home Drugs in Asbury Park.

The next one on my list was Eatontown Televsion. I had seen pictures others had posted, and they all looked the same. I understood why when I went out there. There’s no good place to stand and get a shot of this unless a) you have a drone, or b) you’re really good at dodging heavy traffic while taking shots with a long lens. The best shot was from a restaurant parking lot a good 1500 feet away. Good thing I packed my 75-300 zoom…

Finally, one that should have been on my list was Shore Lanes. By the looks of the rusty, crusty sign, it doesn’t look like it’s still in operation, but it most certainly was.

It’s still not too late for the Circus, so if you know anybody or know anybody who knows anybody who can do something about this, please get involved now. Here are a couple of pages:

Petition

Facebook: I’m with the Clown

In Deepwater

I recently bought a replacement for my aging 75-300 Sigma lens, which pretty much ripped itself a new one from the inside during a photo shoot a couple months ago. I replaced it with a brand new Sigma and I’ve been pleased with the results. A few weeks ago I skipped across the border into New Jersey and trolled for signs along US 130. Honestly, I didn’t find much, but my one discovery was the Deepwater Truck Terminal in Deepwater, NJ. I’ll say it before and I’ll say it again: I’m a sucker for really big letters. I’m even a bigger sucker for big letters in neon on top of a building. And I’m darn near obscene when it comes to rusty dusty old letters on top of a building.

Deepwater Truck Terminal, Deepwater, NJ

One of my favorite things to do is get some super close-ups going with a long lens when I see such a sign, so I dove in head-first. I just love the kind of tangle of letters it produces.

Deepwater Truck Terminal, Deepwater, NJ

Tick Tock Diner and Rutt’s Hut

The short version: since I got a new job, I’ve hardly had time to draw breath, so this is why I haven’t posted for a good deal of time. However, I have quite the backlog of sign pictures to share, so I figured the best way to do so is post considerably smaller posts.

First off, having returned from a funeral last March, we stopped through one of our favorite spots, Rutt’s Hut in Clifton, New Jersey. The dogs are done in the Texas Weiner style peculiar to New Jersey, which is to say that they are deep fried, but rather than coating them with the special Greek sauce, Rutt’s Hut makes its own mustard and relish, which makes the hot dogs that much more special.

Rutts Hut Hot Dogs, Clifton, NJ And yes, I ate every single one…

Their sign was damaged in Sandy, but they restored it pretty well. It doesn’t have that rusty old-world charm anymore, but you can’t have everything.

Rutts Hut Hot Dogs Sign, Clifton, NJ Photo-bombed by a bird again…

Just down from Rutt’s Hut is the Tick Tock Diner. This got in the news in the last year because the former manager of the place got arrested for trying to murder his uncle, but before then, it was justly noted for its food, and for its stylish looks.

Tick Tock Diner, Clifton, NJ

So that’s the short version. That, and this is crossed off my to-do list. More to come, I promise!

Wildwood, Part 3

Stardust Motel, Wildwood, NJ

For part 1, click here

For part 2, click here

Due to the construction in Wildwood last October, we found ourselves diving down streets that we probably wouldn’t have seen otherwise. We ended up on Spicer Avenue, which held a few more motels of the golden era. Remembering back to the research I had done, I knew the Stardust Motel was there (see the shot above) so I went after it. But on the way there, I saw a neon palm tree that needed to be photographed. I was just the guy to do it.

As I stepped out to get this shot, somebody pulled out of the parking lot behind me. The driver was, at first glance, Jersey through and through, and for those of you who don’t know New Jersey, this could be either a good thing or a bad thing. Either I was going to get the chewing out of a lifetime or I was going to get a too-hard slap on the back and invitation to the nearest beer. I got the obvious question about what I was doing. He didn’t ask me what I thought I was doing, so I took that as a good sign. No pun intended.

Turns out, this was the owner of the Mango Motel. And further, the sign had just been restored, and he was obviously very proud of it. He had spotted me taking shots with my iPhone, so I let him know about my Instagram account.

Mango Motel, Wildwood, NJ

In my experience, it’s rare that I get a chance to interact with the owner of a business whose sign I’ve singled out, and rarer still that I get any appreciation for it. I’ve been chased off rudely at least twice, and more often than not, when I explain what I’m doing, the owner turns around and goes back in the building shaking his head. But every once in a while you find someone who is proud of their sign, and more than willing to show it off. In light of this, I honestly wish I had taken more shots at the Mango Motel other than the ten or so I did.

But Wildwood is endless supply of neon, and it was getting late in the day. Honestly, I was exhausted before Wildwood was, but I continued to snap away.

The Caribbean, which was one of the better-attended motels in Wildwood that Sunday in October, has one of the best signs going, although it’s a little difficult to get, as it sits atop a lovely 50s style deck. It’s right across the street from the Bel Air, which just had its sign restored as well.

One of my favorites was the LuFran, which was slightly in need of a new coat of paint. My regret is that I got there too late, and the shadows were not in my favor. Still, I managed to get a long shot to zoom in on some great details.

To tell the truth, this is not all. I still have a bunch of shots from other locations that I’ll share later on. Another regret is that my time was limited, and I was not able to stay long enough to get these wonders while they were lit. To be fair, this was more of a fact-finding mission. Rest assured I’m going back there, if all goes well during the Spring, so stay tuned!

Wildwood, Part 2

Sand Dune Motel

The more you go through Wildwood, the greater the embarrassment of riches. Just going down a side road can lead you to a sign you didn’t know existed, one that no one seems to have posted on Flickr or Instagram. The Sand Dune, for instance, which seems lost during the day, caught between a few other motel signs that catch the eye. I got out to get a picture of the Jolly Roger (below), in its Pirate-topped 50’s glory, and on the way along the sidewalk nabbed the Sand Dune!

Jolly Roger sign, Wildwood, NJ

Jolly Roger Statue

The Sea Shell is one of the more well-known, perhaps for its odd shape, the highly-stylized “M” in “Motel”, and its visibility on the main drag into Wildwood proper.

Sea Shell Motel, Wildwood, NJ

Right down the street from the Sea Shell is the equally-impressive Pink Champagne sign. The hotel is pure 50’s, with pink accents!

Pink Champagne Motel, Wildwood, NJ

Another back-to-back grouping was in toward the center of town, with the Skylark, which was a paint-peeling nod to the old days, and the Quebec Motel, with its rooftop sign. At first, I thought I could sneak a shot which got both signs in it, but this turned out to be trickier than I thought. At any rate, the Skylark shot is among my favorites.

Skylark Motel, Wildwood, NJ

Quebec Motel, Wildwood, NJ

And we’re not even remotely done. My word, no. Literally you can’t go to Wildwood for one day and expect to get all the shots you could get. I haven’t even gotten to my favorite story of the trip yet!

Wildwood

Swan

So where was I? Oh, right.

We were in Philadelphia, having visited the Reading Terminal and Termini Brothers, when we realized that we still had more than half a day. So I said, why not go to Wildwood? It’s not tremendously far away, and I had been looking forward to going. The neon had been drawing me like a moth to a flame. So off we went.

About halfway there, we stopped at the Starbucks on the Atlantic City Expressway and ate the chocolate-banana-raspberry-loveliness we purchased from Termini Brothers. We looked at each other as we ate, confused by its perfection. There had to be a flaw. A sour portion, air bubbles, bones, something to reveal that such transcendence does not exist in this world. Nothing was forthcoming.

The one thing we hadn’t counted on with Wildwood at this time of year was how few people were there. True, it was Columbus Day weekend and well past the end of their season, but it was still a surprise, considering what a nice day it was. We pulled in and some off-season road construction was going on, which deterred us from going to the first sign on my list. However, the detour lead us down another road where we caught sight of a couple that weren’t even on my list: the Fairview (which looked closed) and the Harbor Inn.

Fairview, Wildwood, NJ

Harbor Inn, Wildwood, NJ

If this was any indication of how the afternoon was going to go, it was going to be more than worth the trip.

We pushed on toward the northern end, where the Lollipop Motel was. The Lollipop sign has captured the imagination of many, including me, most likely because of its supreme oddness. Alternately delightful and terrifying, this sign is the most marvelous paradox. Why choose lollipops as a theme for your motel? Why the children’s faces impaled on spikes, their knowing gazes at each other seeming to stem from a secret only they know? Why should I care? It’s big, it’s weird, and it’s wonderful.

Lollipop Motel, Wildwood, NJ

We passed back into town, unimpeded by the usual summer traffic. While the sun was shining, we felt it best to get a glimpse of the ocean. Parking is still at a premium in Wildwood, even at this time of year. We decided to kill two birds with one stone and paid to park at Laura’s Fudge, just up from the boardwalk and Morey’s Piers. Laura’s Fudge has a dazzling array of signs, and even in the day they were all lit up.

Laura's Fudge, Wildwood, NJ

Water Park

Which way to the water park? Hmmm…

Wildwood Lifeguard Station

No one for miles on the beach. Granted, the ocean temperature was low enough to ward off all intruders, but how could you resist a scene like this? We walked for a bit, and quickly ran across one of the most unforgettable scenes of recent times.

Roller Coaster, Wildwood, NJ

Following the destruction left by Superstorm Sandy a few years ago, pictures of this roller coaster half-submerged and falling down became a symbol of the natural disaster. It’s still closed, and the yellow signs around it warn you to stay as far away as possible, but remarkably it still stands. Whether it will ever be resurrected is a greater mystery.

But this was just the start. Much more Wildwood awaited!

The New Jersey Expeditions, Part 2

Autumn arrived, and at the start of it, death visited us on both ends of the spectrum. First it was our 77-year old next-door neighbor, who died suddenly of a heart attack. At the end of the week, my cousin’s son, who was just five years old, succumbed to the ravages of Neuroblastoma after a three-year battle. Under the circumstances, it’s been very hard to write about my adventures in sign-hunting, because in the grand scheme of things, it is so small in the face of life and death.

It disturbed me to discover that I had no pictures of either my neighbor or my cousin’s boy. The latter was more understandable because my cousin lives far away, so I never actually met him, but I saw my neighbor all the time, sitting on the front porch, most often reading the Bible with his gun sitting either on the table next to him or in his shoulder holster. He was built along the lines of a greyhound, and he walked up the street with his long, slender legs. He had a small head and a pointy noise, to boot. He would talk to you in a slow, nasal Philadelphia drawl about pretty much anything and everything, and he was constantly aware of almost all neighborhood activities and passers-by. And I have no pictures of him.

The day after he passed, a neighbor left this on the porch, right in front of his favorite chair.

Flower for Fred

I’ve spent a lot of times taking pictures of places that one day will be gone, but the past few weeks have reminded me that much more, there are people that will one day be gone.

But places are still important to people, and when I was going through New Jersey a few weeks ago I realized that I was in the land where my father-in-law grew up. He has great nostalgia for Watchung, Dunellen, the Plainfields, and he can recall all sorts of stories about old friends and places he’s been, so I felt like I needed to stop by.

First, I caught a glimpse of the Western Termite sign of one of those poor businesses you see only in the northeastern United States that are somehow positioned IN BETWEEN the eastbound and westbound lanes of a major thoroughfare. Despite this odd disadvantage, Western Termite continues to thrive.

Western Termite Control

There were a couple of places I’ve heard my father-in-law mention in stories that I knew were still around. Texas Weiner in Plainfield was the first one to come to mind, and after that, I can’t help but think of the Wienie King in The Palm Beach Story, but that’s my own problem, I suppose. There are a ton of copycats, and nearly every other place in that particular area boasted some form of Texas Weiner, but as far as anyone knows, this was the first.

Texas Weiner I, Plainfield, NJ

The second one is the Dunellen Theater. One night we were talking about old movie houses and he talked about this one in particular, how he had gone to see double features with his cousin Joan there in the 40s, and after he was done talking about it I looked it up on my iPhone and voila! The theater was still there and in operation.

Dunellen Theater, Dunellen, NJ

Teenage Dunellen Ninja Turtles?

The Dunellen is one of the oldest in the country, having started showing movies in 1922. Now known as the Dunellen Theater and Cinema Cafe, it was originally Hosford’s Theater when it opened, and later the Dunellen Cameo, having already changed to the name “Dunellen Theater” by the time my father-in-law was watching movies there.

It was good that I got a chance to go by, and I hope this will be a nice trip down memory lane for him. I wish I had had the time to stop in for a Texas Weiner (is it different from a regular one? I guess it must be…) or to watch a movie in this hallowed old place, but at the very least I can spark some memories in those that have.

In the meantime, here’s a portrait I DO have, of my father-in-law with my sister-in-law Rachel:

rachel-and-dad

The New Jersey Expeditions

HY, Hy-Way Bowl, Union, NJ

There are plenty of things I forget on a constant basis. Among them:

The Cubs are not going to win the division.
Lid down.
Just because a burger is flame-broiled doesn’t necessarily make it a good burger.
Although that Toyota ad with “Jan” started out with a promising concept, it’s not going to be in the least bit funny.
New Jersey is within easy driving distance.

This last one, of course, is the one I forget the most often, and it’s only when I go to Easton and see a sign that says “New York City, 68 miles” that I realize just how close a lot of the places on my to-do list for New Jersey truly are. On Tuesday of this week, I found myself in Easton with some extra time and I realized I was within striking distance of a couple great signs. Considering the recent lessons of the Port Motel and how there’s no time like the present to get these shots, I had no doubt what my course of action should be.

My main target was Hy-Way Bowl in Union, New Jersey. Bowling signs are some of the best, but unfortunately, most of the best ones are somewhere other than eastern Pennsylvania, and as a result, I have precisely zero classic bowling signs in my collection. Secondarily, I wasn’t sure if the Hy-Way was still in operation (They have a Facebook page, but the last post on it is from some time last year), so rather than wait to see it disappear to some scrap heap, I was going to go after it. From there, I was just going to drive back on US 22 to see what I could see. The old US routes, as I’ve often said, are the best, and US 22 is one of the oldest.

I made it to the Hy-Way in under an hour. The parking lot was a disaster and the building looked dilapidated, and a check-cashing place had moved into one part of it. It didn’t look like much bowling was going on. But the sign was intact, and just as I had seen it in posts by others:

Hy-Way Bowl, Union, NJ

A couple things. Number one, what’s with the cactus on the bowling ball? I’ve seen dozens of pictures of this sign, and yet no one asks this question, so dadgummit I’m asking. Second, that’s a whole heaping helping of neon bullet holes in the bowling ball; was there something written on it? What must this have looked like in its day? The internet is frankly stumped, and shows me the pictures I’ve already seen, from Tony Zarak and others.

Hy Way Bowl detail, Union, NJ

Where do I start with this one? I just love the detail above, with these customized letters that spell out “bowl.” They’re uneven, the “O” is smaller than the others, but it fits the space so well and it’s own type of art. When they say “they don’t make ’em like they used to,” this is where it begins and ends for me. It’s like the uneven shapes of the Wrigley Field or Fenway Park outfield. It’s not perfect and gorgeous in its imperfection.

I must have stayed here for a half an hour, watching people struggle in and out of the check cashing place and the traffic roaring down US 22. But I knew I had to move on.

From Debra Jane Seltzer’s website I knew about another one in Union, but I wasn’t sure if it was still there. It was for the Union Shade & Awning Company, and from all reports it was the original sign from 1940:

union-shade

This one was just off US 22, and although I had a good idea where it was, I was surprised to see that it was right there ahead of me once I got off the highway. There was no place to park, so I ended up idling with my four-ways on as I jumped out and took about seven rapid-fire shots. I liked the one above the best.

So I should say another thing I’ve forgotten:

6. Driving in New Jersey is always a challenge.

In order to get back on US 22, I had to drive back all the way to the Hy-Way Bowl. I’m sure there was an easier way to do so, but being a stranger there myself, and since New Jersey sees fit to hide their directional signs from the eyes of tourists, I ended up about a mile in the opposite direction. Once I was back on US 22 west, life continued as normal.

There was a Jimmy John’s on the left side. I couldn’t get in that lane because of traffic, so I thought if I turned right and went around the block, I’d end up in the right spot.

7. Never ever under any circumstances get off of US 22 if you don’t have to. Ever.

Fifteen minutes later and the allure of Jimmy John’s seemed not entirely worth it. I struggled back to US 22 with my tail between my legs, having seen the inside and out of an industrial park and 415 dead-end side roads. The sun, which had been burning bright during my first two shots, went away, so when I reached the next port of call, The World of Tile in Springfield, conditions were not at their best. But I can’t complain much:

World of Tile, Springfield, NJ
World of Tile opened in 1957 and it is every inch 1957 from its globe to the TILE individual blocks to its space-age building, preserved for all these years.

World of Tile Building, Springfield, NJ

More to come later. New Jersey is a wild, wonderful place with much to explore!