Ebeneezer Tucker, of Tuckerton, N.J.

I’ve been wearing the same old pair of jeans for a few weeks now, in order to jog my memory so I would write this blog. I bought them last summer under a strange set of circumstances which has to do with death and cemeteries. You’ll see.

In the summer of 2015, I flew off to a distant land to attend the funeral of my friend’s wife. The day of the funeral coincided with the week my wife and I rented a place on the Jersey shore. Plan was that she and my daughter would drive down to the shore (from where we live in Philadelphia), then I would fly back to Philly after the funeral and drive to Long Beach Island, where we would be staying.

A hectic week, that was. I flew back to Philly on a red-eye flight, and caught a few hours’ worth of sleep at home. Next morning I threw my stuff in the car and headed to LBI to spend the remainder of the week at the shore. I was quite diligent about including my photographic gear in that stuff, as I’d planned to stop at a cemetery I’d never been to on the mainland opposite LBI. Tuckerton, New Jersey, was my stopover destination, a small fishing village on the bay.

On scenic Route 9, in South Jersey!

Just about the time I was to get off the Atlantic City Expressway and head north on Route 9, I had one of those heart-stopping realizations – I had forgotten my clothes! I remembered the camera gear, of course, but I neglected to grab my suitcase with a week’s worth of clothes! Atlantic City was an hour south of Philadelphia, so there was no way I was turning back. But I didn’t want to be late getting to the shore to see my wife and daughter. What’s a guy to do?

This guy figured he had two options:

•       Stop at the Atlantic City outlet mall and blow a few hundred dollars on casual clothes; or
•       Stop at the Goodwill on the Black Horse Pike just outside AC and blow but a few DOLLARS on a week’s wardrobe!

I opted for the latter. I think I spent a total of thirty dollars. My wife would be appalled, of course, but hey, when in a pinch….

On scenic Route 9, in South Jersey!

So anyway, these jeans I’ve been wearing the last week, they were one of the thrift shop scores. Half the clothes I threw away since last summer, but a few shirts and these cheap jeans I kept. Every time I looked at them, I thought, “I gotta write that blog.” So they served that purpose, at least.

On scenic Route 9, in South Jersey!

Every photographer who travels the fine roads of New Jersey knows that Route 9 is a visual feast of roadside attractions, such as giant milk bottles, tiny Victorian houses, and dinosaur statues. And that’s only within a ten-mile stretch. Eventually I made it to Tuckerton, where a friend of mine lives. My stop was not at his place, however. It was Old Methodist Cemetery, a new notch on my “Cemetery Traveler” belt. (This cemetery, by the way, is also called Greenwood Cemetery on some maps.)

Old Methodist Cemetery, Tuckerton, New Jersey

This cemetery is tiny – maybe it takes up the space of sixteen single-family homes. An easy analogy, as Old Methodist is in a residential area, surrounded by single-family homes. The major cross street is North Green Street, a few blocks north of Route 9, or Main Street, as its called here in Tuckerton.

A permanently ajar rusty gate at the corner entrance and low stone walls on two sides separate its overgrown grass from the well-manicured middle-class lawns around it. As is my wont, I seldom do research on a cemetery BEFORE I visit it. Sure, I miss stuff that later on I kick myself for, but generally, I like surprises. So, coming upon old Ebenezer Tucker’s tall white marble obelisk was a bit exciting.

Ebeneezer Tucker's monument at rear

I kind of figured this sleepy little fishing village had a founder named Tucker. Tucker, oddly, was born in Tucker’s Beach, New Jersey, but later moved to what is now Tuckerton, which was in fact named after him.  So what did he do that was so noteworthy as to have the town named after him? consider the following excerpt from the website Tuckerton.com:

"It was from Ebenezer Tucker (1758 – 1845) that Tuckerton received its name. In March 1789, Mr. Tucker hosted a feast at 'Clamtown' for the residents at which time they officially changed the name to Tuckerton. Tucker was prominent as its first Collector of customs; a soldier of the Revolutionary War and served at the battle of Long Island. He was a member of Congress from New Jersey 1825-1829; a Judge of the Court of Common Pleas; Justice of Court Of Quarter Sessions and Judge of the Orphans Court."

That’s all very quaint, and it's not surprising that the locals put him on a pedestal for his good deeds. But there's a little known fact about Tuckerton, this sleepy little seaside village, that surprised me - and made me wonder why Tuckerton is not better known outside of South Jersey. The website, Tuckerton.com, states:“Tuckerton became the Third Port of Entry of the United States, with Ebenezer Tucker appointed Collector; his  commission bearing date March 21, 1791 signed by George  Washington, president and Thomas Jefferson, Secretary of State.”

Odd Fellows Symbol on headstone

Apparently, Ebeneezer Tucker was quite a big deal, as was Tuckerton itself! What were the first two points of entry into the United States, you may ask? New York City and Philadelphia. At one time, for sure, Tuckerton played a major role in the growth of our nation. Today, people might think it unusual for a town this small to have THREE cemeteries, but then back in the day, it's population must have been much larger.

http://www.theus50.com/newjersey/seal.php

Walking through Old Methodist Cemetery you certainly do get a sense of history. Some of the headstones are very old, dating to the late 1700s. Established in 1699, Tuckerton was originally called “Clamtown,” as you read above. Tuckerton must have been a major source of this sea food before it was all fished out. So let's see, what else can I tell you about this little graveyard?

New Jersey State Seal

One thing that baffles me is the fact that, given the hard Atlantic coast weather, with the ocean salt spray and all that, why the detail has not worn off the soft marble grave markers? Further inland where there is more pollution and acid rain (I assume), such detail has long vanished from similar stones. Here, you can see the Victorian symbols of death quite clearly, the willow, the lamb. Even the New Jersey State Seal on old Ebeneezer Tucker’s 1845 marble obelisk is still plainly visible!

References and Further Reading:

http://tuckerton.com/tuckerton-history.htm

http://www.tuckertonhistoricalsociety.org/tuckerton-methodist-cemetery.html

http://www.revolutionarywarnewjersey.com/new_jersey_revolutionary_war_sites/towns/tuckerton_nj_revolutionary_war_sites.htm

Summer Shore Cemeteries

Ah, the Jersey shore in summer! I had my family at Long Beach Island for five days in mid-June and the weather was glorious. Beach, sun, pool, everything was perfect (except for the ticket I got for not wearing my seat belt) – the only thing missing was a trip to a graveyard!

I’m sure I’m one of a select few people who think of such things while on vacation. To make it easier on my wife and four-year-old daughter, I usually head out early before they wake up. So I planned a sunrise trip up the island and over to the mainland to hit the Staffordville Cemetery near Tuckerton (across the bay from LBI).

I’ve photographed a few cemeteries in this area but had never been to Staffordville Cemetery. Other than its simple existence on a map, I could find nothing about it on the Internet. So I made the trip on a Monday morning, shortly after sunrise. Sunrise over the Atlantic Ocean can be breathtaking, but of course, I missed it. Got to the beach at 6 a.m. and sunrise must have been 5:30. So I jumped into my wife’s Toyota RAV4 and headed north up the island. Cops all over the place here trying to nab speeders and folks not wearing seatbelts, so I really had to crawl the five miles or so to the causeway to Manahawkin.

Manahawkin, New Jersey coastline at dawn

The ride was peaceful, not many people about yet. After crossing onto the mainland, Manahawkin, New Jersey is the first major town you get to. If you head north or south on Route 9, there is a cemetery within a half mile either way of the intersection. I’ve been to both in the past, and they are worth the visit: Manahawkin Baptist Cemetery (north) and Greenwood Cemetery (south). Since I was driving past Greenwood, I figured I might stop there on the way back if I had time. Staffordville was about two miles south of here.

I was on the lookout for “Cemetery Road,” as the Staffordville Cemetery appeared (on the map) to be off Route 9 down this road a few blocks. Found the street sign with no problem, though it was almost hidden by all the other signs around it. I drove down the quiet road alongside a trailer park and saw the cemetery at the end. Very unassuming little place. As my grandmother might have said, “it was a small, sad little graveyard.”

This is the pine barrens, as they call it – pine trees and sand. A cemetery sign made out of timber, no gate or fence. One large marble monument to Rev. Samuel Parker’s wife, the rest regular smaller stones. A fenced-in family plot, veterans markers, flags, weather-worn lawn and garden statues, a penny on a headstone. Someone had placed a few stone fragments together in the sand to spell out the words “FATHER HE.”

The graveyard was only about 150 feet deep and 200 feet wide, clean, no trash, no graffiti. Some old Christmas decorations here and there. Old grave markers from the mid-1800s to a few newish ones, including a Vietnam Vet who died in 2006. Some old sea shells adorned a few of the graves. Weird, yellowish-green plant life covered most of the sand.

I began to wonder how many thousands of these small graveyards must exist, and how many thousands of people drive past them without a second thought. These graveyards house tiny memorials to hundreds of thousands of individual lives that have passed. The lives spent in Staffordville, perhaps, may have been spent fishing, farming, sailing – even being a reverend’s wife in the 1850’s. What must that have been like, I wonder, being a reverend’s wife back then?

On my way back to LBI, I did spend some time in Greenwood, a larger and fancier burial ground. The traffic picked up a bit of volume by then, mostly mainlanders going to work Monday morning in Manahawkin or to LBI to work the tourist trade. I would be following them soon, headed back to life after spending a bit of time here with death. These regular drivers probably all know where Greenwood is because of its large wrought iron sign. By the same token, most of them are probably unaware of the existence of the smaller, Staffordville Cemetery. Out of sight, out of mind. Which is why it seems so important to me to hunt down these small, hidden cemeteries. They exist, after all, to honor - and help us remember - the dead.

 

Manahawkin Baptist Graveyard - Stronger Than The Storm

As I wrote about the west coast of the U.S. last week, it’s only fair to maintain a sense of balance with an east coast story. Last week I was at the Jersey Shore (Long Beach Island) with my wife and daughter, and so I made a trip to one of the local cemeteries (isn’t that what you would expect the Cemetery Traveler to do while on vacation?). Manahawkin, New Jersey is the last town on the mainland before you enter the causeway over to the island.

Last year I wrote about Greenwood Cemetery, a largish seaside cemetery on Route 9 south of Manahawkin. This time, I opted to head north. My map showed a Baptist Cemetery about a mile up the road (north on Route 9, past the Route 72 intersection, as shown on map).

Long Beach Island, in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy (NJ.com image)

Woke up at 6:00 a.m., got dressed and made it out the door without waking anyone. Walked over to what is left of the beach as the sun had just risen and grabbed a couple shots of the show. As I drove the seven miles up the island to the causeway, the view was indeed depressing. In the year since I had last visited, Hurricane Sandy had wreaked massive destruction on the island. Here, a scant eight months later, homes were still up on blocks after being shifted off their foundations. Many businesses were boarded up, many areas of the ocean beach was gouged so that instead of smooth sand declining from the dunes to the water, there were canyon-like drop-offs of epic proportions.

One of many homes washed off its foundation (NJ.com image)

Still, the locals have done a great job putting this place back together - they certainly live up to their slogan, "Stronger than the Storm." That said, I couldn’t help wonder if the cemeteries suffered any damage. (Which reminds me – someone contacted me recently with a request to use my blog post "Washed Out Graves" - about flooded graveyards - as part of a presentation on Disaster Preparedness for Cemeteries.) Hurricane Sandy hit the east coast of the United States on October 29, 2012, with New York City and New Jersey suffering the worst damage. It was the second costliest hurricane in U.S. history, surpassed only by 2005's Hurricane Katrina. 

Baptist Cemetery was easy to find, what with its little white clapboard church situated at the front of the old graveyard. Talk about shelter from the storm – there are some eighteenth and even seventeenth century headstones here that are in such well-preserved condition, you’d think they’d been under glass for a hundred years! But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Johnette Napolitano – the gravely-voiced singer from the rock band Concrete Blonde – was playing a concert in San Francisco on this particular Sunday evening in San Francisco when I visited the Baptist cemetery. I bring this up mainly to convince myself that it was not her I saw roaming around the graveyard at seven a.m. accompanied by a guy carrying a guitar case. Might not have been the most unusual thing I’ve ever seen in a cemetery, but given the time of day, it qualifies for the top ten. Besides, Johnette is kind of spooky herself (just watch this video). I said, “Hi. Didn’t expect to see anyone else here this early.” The guy sort of smiled and they walked around to the other side of the old wooden church, then disappeared.

Baptist Church and Cemetery, Manahawkin, New Jersey

If you’re a legacy reader of this blog, you may recall that in my early days of cemetery photography, I wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this. Not while I was alive and toting a camera, anyway. Why? No statues. Nary an angel. But after you’ve exhausted the possibilities of statuary photography (or rather, you've hit your own limits), you begin looking elsewhere. I’ve hence begun to appreciate other nuances of cemeteries (and there are thousands of such things, mind you). So the small country cemetery with nothing but stone slabs for gravemarkers does not escape my attention these days. And my photography and writing are all the better for it, I believe. So with that in mind, I began looking at the inscriptions and carvings on the stones.

Although there are a few newer (early twentieth century) granite monuments here, most of the head stones were of the large marble variety with the traditional images, poetry, and epitaphs. However, as I said, many were clearly readable and apparently not worn down by acid rain (is there less of this in coastal areas?). They were really quite beautiful, especially this pair of white marble nineteenth century markers with the clasped hands design. 

White marble headstones, about four feet high

To the left and behind the peeling white church building, I was somewhat shocked to find a small cluster of about five red sandstone grave markers, all but one standing upright. Obviously the oldest in the cemetery (eighteenth century), covered with some sort of lichen or mold that gave them the appearance of being old and worn. Red sandstone was quarried in North Jersey back in the 1700s and is commonly seen in cemeteries around Monmouth County (a bit north of here). Upon closer inspection, these stones were actually wonderfully preserved! I was amazed to see that the lettering and design carvings were not eroded at all, but simply camouflaged by the lichens. The text was clearly readable with border designs still quite crisp. This particular one (below) was dated 1794. A bit of proper cleaning and these stones would be the showpieces of the cemetery.

North Jersey red sandstone grave marker

Freshly-cut area where shrubs must have obscured headstones

Although the church (which I’m not sure was still “Baptist” as the maps indicated) was a bit ramshackle, it was obvious that the cemetery is being tended by someone. There was evidence that trees and bushes had been cut back and removed, to keep them from obscuring the gravestones. I thought this image (below) interesting – the marble stone on the left was still lichen-tinted from being in the tree’s shade for what must have been years, while its counterpart in the sun was lichen-free.

Though I could see no obvious hurricane damage in the cemetery, there was a very obvious reminder of nature’s powerful forces - a large granite monument to “The Unknown From the Sea” (a photo of which you can see at the beginning of this blog). This monument marks the graves of those unknown souls who have left the corporal realm by way of drowning, I suppose. It was in the center of a decoratively-fenced area of about 250 square feet toward the back of the grounds - plenty of room for folks who had tested their mettle against the mighty Atlantic Ocean, and lost.

Further reading:

Learn more about red sandstone and New Jersey gravemarkers in general in Adam R. Heinrich’s paper: 

 “Remember Me...” But“Be Mindfull of Death”: The Artistic, Social, and Personal Choice Expressions Observedon the Gravemarkers of Eighteenth Century Monmouth County, New Jersey.

CBS News video: Hurricane Sandy aftermath on Long BeachIsland, New Jersey

Hurricane Sandy aftermath photos 

Read about Manahawkin's Greenwood Cemetery in the "Jersey Shore Cemetery," blog by Ed Snyder

Jersey Shore Cemetery

What’s a summer beach vacation without a stop at a cemetery? Even when I take my family to the Jersey shore, I map out a local cemetery to visit. Now, Long Beach Island (South Jersey) has no graveyards to my knowledge, so you must head inland a bit. The town of Manahawkin on Route 9 in Ocean County is right on the mainland just before you hit the causeway out to the island. There are half a dozen small old graveyards between Manahawkin and Tuckerton, five miles south on Route 9. I figured that on Saturday morning, I’d get up before my wife and daughter, drive over and do some shooting.

So on Friday night, I told Jill I’d be heading out early the next morning to do some photography. She said she noticed that I was all shpilkas (Yiddish term for having ants in one’s pants) and looked like I needed to get it out of my system. I got my camera gear ready and set my alarm for six a.m. It feels most insane to wake up that early when you’re on vacation. 

Sunrise over the Atlantic Ocean, Beach Haven, New Jersey

When I awoke, I was surprised to see that the sun hadn’t yet risen! Can’t really make photographs without light, now can we? So I decided to go out to the beach and shoot the sunrise while I was waiting. (Here's a secret: I’ve made far more sunset photographs than sunrise ones.) It was quite a magnificent display that the summer sun presented about ten minutes later, here over the Atlantic Ocean. Took a few shots, sighed with awe at nature's majesty, then jumped into the car. There were tasks at hand. I only had two hours and still had to score coffee and a bun somewhere, creep the eight miles up the island at 25 mph, and tear across the causeway and Barnegat Bay at high speed.

Long Beach Island (LBI) really hasn’t changed much in the twenty-five years since I brought my first brood of children here. Quaint little shops and a family-oriented atmosphere, very few amusements and no boardwalk − totally unlike Wildwood and Atlantic City to its south. In fact, LBI seems to be the cutoff point between the north Jersey shore (with Asbury Park and Point Pleasant) and the south Jersey shore. Architecture changes drastically, vacationers are different. It’s much quieter and cleaner to the north. You begin to notice the change fairly quickly as you head north on Route 9 past Manahawkin.

Odd Fellows "FLT" symbol

Lighthouse engraving

As I hit town, I realized that over the years, I had passed Manahawkin’s Greenwood Cemetery so many times that my memories are worn (as John Prine says in his song Paradise). However, I never stopped there. Always had a carload of kids, or something. Times change. 

The front name fencing of this rural cemetery was bathed in the early rays from the sunrise − quite nice edge-of-the-day light with which to make photographs.  I like those sign fences, or whatever they’re called. I parked my wife’s Toyota RAV4 in the center of the small, football field-sized cemetery, got out and quickly surveyed the place. Only had an hour until I needed to head back to Beach Haven (I swear, that’s really the name of the town where we were staying), pick up Jill and Olivia (our three-year-old daughter), and head out to breakfast. Until then, I’d enjoy the quiet solitude of this Victorian seashore graveyard.

Plot borders at Greenwood Cemetery

The ground throughout the cemetery was sandy, with sparse grass. There were trees and old iron fencing at the front, the land grassier toward the back. There were strange, yet carefully delineated family plots throughout – all well-maintained. The borders were generally just low marble or concrete curbing with white gravel or sand over the graves. I couldn’t really do these justice with a photograph, so click my friend Kimberly Killeri’s video for a better idea of what I’m talking about (the video is interesting in its attention to detail). Greenwood offers just one angel statue at the back, but this lovely graveyard has many other things to offer gravers and taphophiles.

As I munched my glazed donut and set my convenience store coffee cup down on a tombstone, I noticed the odd little zinc medallion you see at left. I shot it and did a bit of research later. Remember the Boston Tea Party (1773)? Well, the "S and D of L" were responsible for that. The name "Sons and Daughters of Liberty" was given to the secret clubs of marauding American patriots that threatened the British ruling authority prior to 1776. Up and down the eastern seaboard, this "private band of societies provided an intercolonial network that would help forge unity" through "extralegal means" (reference: http://www.ushistory.org/us/10b.asp).

Another interesting thing I stumbled on (literally) was this set of stones at the front of Greenwood Cemetery. "Friend?" How close a "friend" would you say? This was not the family name, by the way. There was a large monument among these stones with that name one it.

Roaming around, I found several interesting decorative items, offerings, lighthouse carvings on stones, and so on. But, you know how every once in a while you find some REALLY unusual piece of architecture or statue that just produces utter delight? This was the case for me when I found this amazing little cast iron gate! It was swung partly open, and may have been like that for years – or at least since the last coastal storm. It bore the family name and date, along with a splendid harp design below. I don't believe I've ever seen one like it in person, though I'd seen vintage photos of them from cemeteries of the late 1800s.

All too soon, I'm tearing back over the causeway, the morning sun blazing as I drive past the weird Jersey signs, the custard stands, fudge shacks, the “Pottery  Barge.” I'm blasting Izzy Stradlin's G'n'R version of the Stones' Dead Flowers on the car stereo, feeling good about another successful adventure in a new cemetery. But I face another challenge: fighting the breakfast crowd at Uncle Will’s Pancake House.