Interview with
Remembering The 20th Century:
An Oral History of Monmouth County
|
Mr. May with friends
celebrating the last dinner on the Titanic |
Date of Interview: August 10, 2000
Name of Interviewer: Douglas Aumack
Premises of Interview: Mr. May's home, Ocean Grove, NJ
Birthdate of Subject: August 4, 1939
Mr. Aumack: How did
you come to Monmouth County?
Mr. May: I was
born in Long Branch in Monmouth County and I've lived here all my life,
so that's how I came here.
Mr. Aumack: What
hospital was it?
Mr. May: It was
Hazard's Hospital, but is now Monmouth Medical Center.
Mr. Aumack: How
small was that hospital?
Mr. May: I
imagine it was quite small; of course I don't remember because I was
small myself. But I know from my mother telling me that it was a small
hospital and Dr. Hazard was in charge.
Mr. Aumack: How
long was your family here before you were born, do you know?
Mr. May: My
family goes back in Monmouth on the Covert side; the
family home was in Wayside, and I don't know how many years they were
there, but probably from the early 1800s. Maybe even before then. There's a
Methodist Church on the hill in Wayside that seemed to be the church of all the farm families in the area
and we're still there. I was just there with my sisters,
up visiting the grave sites; her husband died not too long
ago. But we're there, and it's interesting when you come from a small
town like this and you've stayed in the area. I had a friend who I
went to school with, who was a classmate of mine, and years later, I
guess it was about thirty years later, I saw her. I had the Pine Tree hotel here in Ocean Grove, and she sought me out and said,
"Do you know we're related?" Well it was that up on the hill in that cemetery,
that she found out. I guess the families
intermarried. But that's the one side of the family, how we got the
connection with Ocean Grove here, where I am today. My great grandfather
was a baker for West Point and he moved from West Point about the same time
Ocean Grove was founded, and opened a bakery
here. I don't know too much about the bakery, but I do remember my
grandfather showing me pictures of himself as a little boy, on the
streets of Ocean Grove with a goat cart, selling bread. And then my
grandfather had a big horse drawn truck and it said "No flies on
the bread, bury the name of Magathan." So he came down here and the
rest is history. My mother was born here; my grandfather had married into the Coverts,
the family out in Wayside, so we've been in this area ever since. We go
back a long time here. Probably the Coverts side goes back a lot longer
then the Magathan side. They came over before the
Revolutionary War and they fought with Ethan Allen and the Green Mountain Boys.
But the family member who came first eventually moved west with the land grants.
They all moved to Kansas. That was a part of the family I
never knew about. I just thought they came from Scotland with my great-grandfather coming over.
One of the members of my family did
research and found out most all of them are out in Kansas, including my
great grandfather, who was born there. He worked at West Point and then
came to Ocean Grove. So he didn't come from Scotland, he came by way of Kansas! I've never met the families out there. I have to go out some
day. My cousin has been out.
Mr. Aumack: And
this is the Magathans?
Mr. May: Yes,
this is the Magathans. It was MacGathan when they came over, and of course
they changed it when they entered the country to Magathan.
Mr. Aumack: So who
went to West Point? What was his full name, do you know?
Mr. May: Yes,
John Magathan.
Mr. Aumack: Do you
know when he graduated from West Point?
Mr. May: He
didn't go to West Point, he was the baker for West Point. I guess he had
been in the baking business out in Kansas, and his family and he got this
job in West Point. And then from there he moved to Ocean Grove and brought
his four children with him. My grandfather was one of them.
Mr. Aumack: Now
when he sold his bread, was it more door to door while having his store
at the same time?
Mr. May: I'm not
sure, I really don't know. I just remember seeing pictures of the old bakery truck, and my grandfather
obviously went from door to
door because he had the goat cart with the bread in it.
Mr. Aumack: So he
first used a goat and then a horse?
Mr. May: Well, my great grandfather was the one that had the wagon. My
grandfather was a little boy and he had the goat cart.
Mr. Aumack: Do you
remember the name of the bakery?
Mr. May: No I
don't. I remember seeing on the truck "No flies on the bread during
the name of Magathan." It was kind of interesting.
Mr. Aumack: It was
an advertisement as well as a sign.
Mr. May: Right.
That was printed on the side of the truck. I don't know too much about this, my
grandfather wasn't too into the history of the family, so what we
learned was when somebody did research in Washington, DC.
Mr. Aumack: Now,
what is your earliest memory of childhood growing up?
|
Mr. May at age six, after
winning a contest
|
Mr. May: I was born in 1939,
and I
guess by the time I was two or three I remember my father went into the war. He was in the Navy,
stationed in the Pacific. I had sisters. You met one of them, I
guess when you came in, but they're ten years older than I am. And
they're identical twins. My mother had the twins and then me ten years later,
and I'd say I was about two or three years old when my father went into
the service. So my earliest recollections are just being in that house, and the
blackouts. You know during the war, when you're a little kid, you
don't know why all the lights are out, and they pulled all the shades
down, and so on and so forth. But we had the blackouts in case we were invaded or something,
the invaders wouldn't see any
targets of lights and so on. I do remember that we lived in Shrewsbury
Township, which is now Tinton Falls. I remember
the airport too, and that was neat, because there was an airport in Red Bank. In fact there's a restaurant called the Airport Inn on Shrewsbury
Avenue and one of my earliest memories of the years we were on Peach Street
and we could watch the planes taking off from the Red Bank airport. I
remember just sitting on the porch and we used to have a little game
guessing what color plane would come up next. That was kind of fun. But
the dirt road and the open land, you know this wasn't farmland, it was
open land across the street. I remember going to school in Tinton Falls. I
remember kindergarten, because it was all day. You went all day and
you had a naptime, you slept and so on. It wasn't like now when you go for two
and a half hours and you go home. It was all day kindergarten. I was
only in Tinton Falls in the school there for one year, and then we moved
to Shrewsbury. My mother moved us there. She had a rough time of it
because my father was gone and she had three kids, and the landlords wanted
to either sell the house or use it for themselves, so we had to get out. She had to move the family herself and
relocate in Shrewsbury.
Mr. Aumack: So your
father passed away in the War?
Mr. May: No, no. But this
move happened while he was stationed in the Pacific.
Then when he got out, of course, he was able to do the things that
needed to be done with this house that my mother had purchased. It was very
rough, it was right at the end of the Depression, and then from the
Depression we went right into the War.
Mr. Aumack: Why did
you move to what is now Tinton Falls, from where were
you, in Long Branch?
Mr. May: We didn't move in
Long Branch. I was
only born there. We lived in Eatontown.
Mr. Aumack: Why did
you move from Eatontown to Tinton Falls?
Mr. May: Because
the house was available. My
mother was looking for a place to rent. We were there for a few years,
and when that house was no longer available, then she had to make the move, and
she had to make it without my father because he was in the service. We moved to Shrewsbury.
I think they had that place for about forty years. I grew up in Shrewsbury. I moved there when I was
five. We never moved again, and as I say, they lived
there in the same house for about forty or more years.
Mr. Aumack: What
types of planes were at this airport?
Mr. May: They
weren't military planes. I don't remember too much because I was only
about three or four years old, but I do remember the airport. I remember
one incident. I guess I was always
the kind of kid that got into things, and I just decided that I was going to
fly an airplane. I was about four. Somehow I got into the
airport, where the planes were, got up inside the plane, was in the
cabin, and I was up there having a ball, waving to people. They were
having to search for me, and they found me in the airplane. School busses took you to school and
brought you home. I was only there one year, but my sisters were
older, and I remember sometimes the bus would wrap around and stop near
my grandparents in Eatontown. Now we were living on Peach Street off Shrewsbury
Avenue there, what is now Tinton Falls, and there was a bar at the end,
which is now a restaurant, the Airport Inn. The bus used to stop
there, and now that I look back, I guess the bus driver just stopped there for a quick
one after he did the rounds. But I had been with my
sisters once or twice, and they went to my grandparents in Eatontown
while he was bringing the bus back to where they parked it. So I told my
mother, "Mom, I'm going away," and she said,
"Where?" and I said, "I'm going to see my grand mom."
And she said, "Have a good time," and said goodbye. Well, I got on
the bus, had the bus driver convinced that that's where I was supposed
to go, and if he hadn't stopped for a drink, I would have been at my
grandmother's. My father and mother were just frantic, but I was up on
the highway on the bus waving to her. She asked, "What are you
doing in there?" And I said, "I told you I was going." I remember getting lost
once in Red Bank. I was sitting on the curb,
and I wasn't really upset, I was just frustrated because I didn't know
where she was. A cop came over and said, "What
are you doing here little boy?" and I said, "I lost my
mother." So he made the search and found her. Then we moved to
Shrewsbury, and most of my memories are from Shrewsbury.
Mr. Aumack: What's
your fondest memory about Shrewsbury?
|
Mr. May at school in
Shrewsbury
|
Mr. May: Shrewsbury? I was there from five until college, so I have a lot of
memories of Shrewsbury. I remember
in the fifth or sixth grade and having this teacher who was just
wonderful. Everybody dreaded her. She had been there for years, and she
had taught this one's father, and that one's grandfather, and so on, and
she was very strict, but she turned out to be a real asset for me because
she really got me on to school. Just that one person.
Mr. Aumack: Is that
school still standing?
Mr. May: Unfortunately, no.
That school was a wonderful, wonderful school, it was built in 1908 and
its façade was wonderful. It was a beautiful classic school. Mind you,
after I left Shrewsbury, I went on to college, and I taught at Little
Silver, and I'm very much interested in the teaching profession and am
very involved in it. If I had stayed in Shrewsbury, I probably would have
gotten more involved in saving the school, because the people in the community
came up to vote in Shrewsbury two or three times. The people voted not
to take the school down, but the board wanted to expand, so it went ahead
and got permission from the state to level against the wishes of the community.
So I mean it was unfortunate historically, because the piece of architecture
was beautiful. My twin sisters were a big part of my life because they
were ten years old when I was born, and I became like the living toy to
them, and so they were always interested in what happened to me, and what
I did, and so on and so forth.
Mr. Aumack: They
were two babysitters and two guardians.
Mr. May: Right,
but it's a different experience when they're identical twins because the
two of them are just -
Mr. Aumack: What
makes them so -
Mr. May: So unique?
Well, they're so much alike and they're so different. So close, yet they
wanted to be independent. They were the kind of twins that didn't want
to be exactly like the other one and dress like the other one, and so
on, looking for their independence. Boy, they used to tease me. My family
name was Buddy - "Do you want to come here, Buddy? Come over here
with me." And I'd go over there and the other would say, "Oh,
you don't want me anymore." You know, then they would drive me nuts,
back and forth, back and forth. I think that just growing up with that
has made it possible for me to deal with different factions, or to be
aware not to neglect this one because I learned quite a lesson from them.
I learned how to deal with the demands that are made on you from different
sides. But they're both in Florida.
Mr. Aumack: Describe what it was
like living in Shrewsbury.
Mr. May: I don't know what the class size is now,
but in my graduating class I think there were only seventeen
kids. Like everything, Shrewsbury grew, but it was just a nice environment to grow
up in.
Mr. Aumack: Did a
lot of people know everyone else?
Mr. May: In Shrewsbury? Yes,
and I was rather involved in a lot of things. I was in the Boy Scouts,
and I was in different choral groups, and we put on plays. I remember
this teacher in particular, Helen Lang, that I had, I don't know how she
did it, but I had her for fifth grade when she had fifth and sixth. As
a teacher, I know having just one grade is difficult, but she had
fifth and sixth. She was so organized she'd teach a lesson in fifth, and
then she'd give you a reinforcement exercise, or whatever, to start on,
then she'd go teach a lesson in sixth. We were in the same room. Two rows
of fifth grade and two rows of sixth grade. And she'd go back and forth
all day. And yet, with doing that, she'd still have time on every Friday
for the combined class to have a talent show, or program. It wasn't like
it was a special one, but every Friday people would get up there who wanted
to play their instrument, or they would form a singing group, or recite
poetry. About an hour a week was set aside for that. And that was just
wonderful. We didn't have any time in class to prepare for it, but we'd
prepare after school. We had a singing group, three or four of us, and
we'd get together and practice our songs to sing on Friday.
Mr. Aumack: How
many kids did she have at once?
Mr. May: Well,
as I say, there were probably about seventeen in my class, so she must
have had thirty to thirty-five kids in two different grades.
Mr. Aumack: But
they were all in the same room at the same time.
Mr. May: Yes, two or three rows of one, and two or three rows of the
other. Just
physically getting all those kids in was a problem. I don't know what the sixth grade
was, I just remember what my class was, so maybe it was a smaller sixth
grade. I know we had seventeen, so maybe they had thirteen, I don't know.
Mr. Aumack: It just
boggles my mind how she would teach two classes at once. How did she do that?
Mr. May: Well, I know
how to do it because it is my field. It's not easy. And she was really
good at inspiring kids in that kind of environment; she really was good.
There was a little penny candy store we used to stop at. It seemed like
forever, but it was probably only three blocks in the other direction
towards the Old Christ Church and the Allen House. And I remember the
store was between school and the Allen House. I remember once in a while
venturing up there for ice cream. Lovett's Nursery was just all fields,
it wasn't a mall. Between Red Bank and the Old Christ church, going towards
the place on the left hand side, there was Lovett's Nursery, which has
been leveled now, and has housing developments on it. When I was a kid,
it was all open fields.
Mr. Aumack: How has
Shrewsbury changed?
Mr. May: Well, it's
just become more populated, but it's still a very nice community. But
having taught in Little Silver, I have ties there. Also, because of my
involvement in the teaching profession, I represented the teachers from
all over the county as the president of the Monmouth County Educational
System. There were ten thousand members and about fifty or fifty-five
locals. But Shrewsbury was very close to my heart because I grew up there.
I never got very far, you see. I grew up in Shrewsbury, went to Red Bank
High School, came back and taught at Little Silver; it's all within a
couple miles. My whole growing up and business life was in that area.
My ties are here in Ocean Grove because of family. My grandfather's sisters
stayed here.
Mr. Aumack: Now
after grammar school, where did you go to high school?
|
Mr. May in high school
|
Mr. May: We went
to Red Bank High School. We were tuition students then, it wasn't
regionalized. We were tuition students from Little Silver and
Shrewsbury. It was a big change for us because we come from about
seventeen kids in my class to a big high school setting. We used to
catch the bus to the high school.
Mr. Aumack: How
many people were in your graduating class?
Mr. May: From
high school? About one hundred and eighty.
Mr. Aumack: How big
were the classes?
Mr. May: In high
school? It varied. The gym classes were always huge, but I don't
remember class size being a problem, I don't remember being jamming
in, so I would say the largest class was twenty-five or thirty students.
Mr. Aumack: When
your mother or father wanted to go shopping for food or clothing, where
would they go?
Mr. May: Red Bank was the
closest. Even today, Red Bank has remained a lovely area. I went to high
school there, and when we went to town, we went to Red Bank. There was
the butcher shop there, there were different places there, and places
to shop for clothing, and various other things you would need. However,
I remember going about twice a month to Long Branch. Long Branch was a
bigger city. Red Bank was small, and Long Branch at the time was a very
nice city, and my mother would go there, two, three or four times a month
to shop. But the big place was Asbury Park. That's why it breaks your
heart just looking at it today, because it was just magnificent. Maybe
once a month we would make the big time and we'd go to Steinbach's in
Asbury Park, and Canadian Furs, and Tepper's, and all of the fine stores
that were there. Interestingly enough, in later years when I was in college,
I worked in Asbury Park. I worked there before, during, and after the
riots, so I could really see what happened to Asbury Park. I was there
at sort of a critical time. Just like really in Ocean Grove. When
I had the Pine Tree Inn, the hotel here in the Grove, it was before, during,
and after the gates coming down and opening up Ocean Grove. But going
back to where we shopped, Asbury was the big place.
Mr. Aumack: What kind of store
was Tepper's?
Mr. May: Tepper's was
sort of a gift shop, linens; it would be comparable to your bigger department
stores only it was small, but it carried fine items.
Mr. Aumack: Do you
remember when the roads were paved in Long Branch and Shrewsbury?
Mr. May: As far back
as I remember, they were all paved. All the main roads, at least. In Shrewsbury,
the house I grew up in was at 40 Laurel Street. Laurel Street went up
to Thomas Avenue, I guess it was, but anyway it just ended, but then when
they put in the development, they continued the road up. It was an all-wooded
area when I grew up; it was just a road that went around like a rectangle
with houses on it, and the rest was woods behind it, but of course it's
all developed now.
Mr. Aumack: Did you
ever use any public transportation to go anywhere?
Mr. May: All through high
school. Because we were tuition students, we didn't have the yellow school
bus pick us up. We got to the high school using a bus pass, so we used
the public transportation for that.
Mr. Aumack: Do you
remember what company was in charge of that?
Mr. May: I
remember Borough Busses; it might have been that.
Mr. Aumack: Let's
go back to Asbury Park. When did you start working there and what was your
job?
Mr. May: I went
to college in 1958 -
Mr. Aumack: What
college was that?
Mr. May: Montclair State
College. At that time I had two options: first of all, I came from a family
where you felt loved, and it didn't matter what you did. So there wasn't
the emphasis to succeed to be loved. It wasn't the push, and so on. I
really had a very interesting life because I was free to do what I wanted.
My mother and father just let me explore everything and anything that
I wanted to do. My sisters were a big encouragement for that freedom,
too. I know the sister you met here, Evelyn, used to say, "There's
no such word as 'can't.' If you want to try it, just do it." So I
grew up that way. I'd always thought I'd want to be a teacher, but I also
thought that I'd like to go into business, and I didn't quite know which
field to go in, and I wasn't under any pressure to go into either one
of them. So I had applied to NYU to study retailing. In fact, there was
a store in Red Bank which was a very fine men's clothing store then. It
wasn't Roots, Roots came later, but it was J. Kridel's. Kridel's was the
big clothing store. Kridel's had a scholarship and I got the scholarship.
And as I said, I didn't have the pressure like, "Oh, you got a scholarship,
so you have to go." But I did get the J. Kridel scholarship. It was
four thousand dollars, a thousand dollars each year. Today that seems
like nothing, but at that time one thousand dollars paid for a whole year
at NYU. I remember thinking I would be probably living in the Village,
and my expense would not be the college, because I had the thousand dollars,
but it would be for the room and board. I'd have rent and so on. So I
also applied to Montclair. Well, it was a state school at that time, and
believe it or not, the tuition at Montclair was only ninety-six dollars
a semester. So at Montclair, the whole year's tuition was less than two
hundred dollars. But I decided to go to Montclair because I could go in
for teaching, and I could also major in business. So I entered Montclair
as a business major, with social business minor, and then went taking
courses in education. I majored in accounting, so I could either venture
out in accounting or into teaching of business. But that wasn't to be.
My college career was from one thing to another.
Mr. Aumack: So you
did a lot of exploring.
Mr. May: Oh, I certainly
did. I had a speech class in my first semester as a freshman. The kids
wanted me to be class president, well I turned that down, thank God. I
turned that down, or I probably wouldn't have made it through the semester.
But, I also had that speech class, and I really liked the speech class.
Then the head of the Speech Department called me into his office and said,
"Phil, we'd like you to be a speech major." Well, I really liked
speech, although I never thought about going into that. It was dramatics
and speech therapy. They wanted me to do the lead in the school play,
Our Town. Well, I just felt that I should do some background work,
I was the new kid on the block, and that should go to a junior or senior.
So I turned it down, which is kind of weird when I think back on it. Most
kids would say, "That's great," but as a freshman, that was
my view on things. Also, I was rushed for three or four fraternities.
It was like a madhouse. I went from the little town of Shrewsbury and
the hardest to get into fraternities thought they were the top dogs and
so on. I finally joined a service fraternity in college. So I was in a
fraternity during my first semester. I should have just broken away and
become a speech major. But I just had this idea that I would always have
business as an ace in the hole. So then I was trying to complete two majors,
and then with social business minor, you had to minor in business also.
So I was going to school in the summers for that, and I got to the middle
of my junior year and decided that I really wanted to go into speech.
The Speech Department had been after me. Well, then they had a problem
within Montclair, in the departments. The Business Department didn't want
to let me go. I thought it would be an easy transition, and it would have
been as a freshman. The head of the Speech Department was delighted that
I was making this change, because he had been hoping that I would do that
all along. When the business department found out about it, well, they
were at each other's throats over what department I was going to go in,
and I remember the Speech Department head calling me in and saying, "Phil,
we'll help you get into any college in the country in speech, but there's
so many problems here within Montclair with the departments that we can't
take you." So I thought well, they're not going to do that to me,
I've always been independent. I also had an art class. Now I never
had any art background at all, whatsoever. Shrewsbury did have an art
teacher, but the program was very limited. In high school, I never had
a thing in art. At Montclair, I had this art appreciation course which
I really liked. The head of the department was Dr. Calcia. I thought they're
not going to make me stay in a department, so I went to the head of the
Art Department and I said, "What could I do to become an art major?"
She asked for the background; I said I had none. So I was like an experiment,
because I was fresh and new, with no preconceived ideas of what should
be done. She couldn't believe it. She said, "All I can tell you is,
if you're in the middle of your junior year and you're willing to switch
majors into a major you know nothing about, then I will accept you into
the department." The next semester I didn't register for business
classes. I was not a speech major. So as far as I was concerned, I wasn't
any major. When I talked to the head of the Art Department, I told one
of those little white lies. I said I didn't have a major. I finally got
through to the Dean and I told him that I didn't have any major and he
said, "But you've been here for two and a half years. Nobody goes
here with two and a half years without declaring a major." And I
said, "I don't have any major right now, but I want to be an art
major, and Dr. Calcia will take me into the art department." And
he said, "Well, you've got to get a major. So, if she's agreeable
we'll just send you to the Art Department." So I became an art major.
I had to make up three years of all of the classes, and in art you had
to minor in art as well. So I had all these art classes. It was a whole
different field. Then the head of the Business Department found I hadn't
been coming to class. Well, I didn't have any business classes. He said,
"I haven't seen you in class." And I said, "No, I'm not
a business major anymore." And he said, "What do you think,
the Speech Department will have you?" And I said, "No, I'm an
art major." He sat down and said, "I don't want you to go, you'll
be a wonderful business teacher, and I think you'll be great." And
I said," Why didn't you talk to me about this before? It's too late,
I'm an art major, but I'll continue as a business minor." But he
didn't want that, it was either all or nothing. So I finally graduated
with about five and a half years of credits, from speech to business,
and finally majoring and minoring in art, and my first job was in Wall
Township as an art supervisor. I had sixty-five teachers working under
me, and I was the new kid on the block just entering the teaching profession.
And I worked with kids, also. I did demonstration lessons and worked with
them on follow-ups.
Mr. Aumack: So what
was your degree as?
Mr. May: Well,
it was an art major with a business and speech minor. I can teach business and
speech from seven to twelve, and art K to twelve. My first job was as an art supervisor, but I
really love teaching. And I love working with the kids, and not just
doing demonstration lessons. I decided I wanted a class for myself.
So I applied for jobs in elementary education, but even with all those
credits, I didn't have elementary certification. But I got a job in Bergen
County, in Glenn Rock, one of the best schools in the state. I
taught in Glenn Rock for two or three years, even though they said you'll never
get into Glenn Rock because there was such a wait line and it's such a
wonderful system. You'll never get in there. And I didn't have
certification. With all certification I had, I didn't have elementary
certification. But they were extremely
professional. They didn't just look at credentials, and so on and
so forth, they interviewed me, and then they came down and they watched
me teach, and not only the principal, but the curriculum coordinator,
and so on. They paid Wall Township for the day for
me to come up to look at their system so that I would make sure that I
was making the right decision. They took me around the district, introduced me
to the
superintendent, took me out to lunch, and had an extremely professional way of
handling it. And even without certification I got the job. But I had to
get elementary certification, which I did. I was there two years, but when you
get the sand in your shoes, you just can't leave the shore, and I just
wanted to come home. They were so delighted with me. I'll never forget
they called me in to the office. There was the superintendent, the
principal, and the curriculum coordinator. Although I'd taught there only two,
maybe three years, they offered me the job of principal. This was before there
were contracts for
teachers. They could do what they wanted,
and offer the salaries that they wanted. But they called me in and said that
they were offering me the job of principal. They were offering me the job of principal of their junior
high, and they would pay for all of my masters degree for
certification in administration. They
groomed you for the position, it was like a picture book, the way they
ran that system. The current principal was leaving in two
years, and I would take over the school in two years. I was flattered. And it's funny how
some things you remember. I remember saying to them, "You
know, I don't want you to feel that I'm ungrateful, but I got in this business to
teach, and I don't want to leave the
classroom." It was such an emotional thing to be
offered this position with all expenses
paid, and then to turn it down, but I had said when I leave, I'll leave
the classroom. And I did. I left there in a year and I came back home. Then I taught in a ghetto school for
three years.
Mr. Aumack: What do
you mean a ghetto school?
Mr. May: Well, I
couldn't understand why I wasn't getting calls, because there was a
teacher shortage then, but I wasn't getting calls from the
districts that I applied to down here. I didn't plan to go back to
Glenn Rock. I told them that I loved teaching and I
called the borough, and they said, "What grade level are you interested
in?" And I said, "Do you have anything available?" And they said,
"Yes, but
what grade?" They said, "We can't find your application, but why don't you
come in for an interview?" I went in. Dr. Clausen was the superintendent; he was one of the best that I've worked with,
and I've worked with the lot, the good, bad, and the ugly. But he was there, and
he interviewed me, and he offered me the job. I was delighted now that I had
a job here. What I didn't realize then was that I wasn't in Freehold Township, I
was in the Boro, and I was in the ghetto school that has since been torn
down. It was built in 1865 Hudson Street school in Freehold; the
new addition went up in 1916. And to join those two additions was a
hallway. The place leaked; it had horrible conditions. I had left Glenn
Rock, which was Utopia, our playground was by Nabisco, you had the smell
of the fresh cookies and so on, we had a huge playground
to play in. On my first day of school in Freehold, they didn't even tell me where
my room was. I asked the teachers where my room was. I had no room. I wound up teaching
in the hall that joined the two schools. Then I looked out the window in
the back, and I said, "Where's the playground?" They said,
"You're looking at it; it used to be a mudhole." They had
blacktopped it over. They were three unbelievable years. I probably
would have stayed there, because I love teaching kids, but the board
administration was so corrupt in that district at that time, it was
incredible. The man who had hired me went on to Basking Ridge, and he was
only there one or two years, and then they hired someone who was just a
hatchet man to get rid of the teachers there. That was where I became
involved with teaching leadership.
Mr. Aumack: When did you come to Freehold Boro school?
Mr. May: About 1968.
In 1968 a law was passed that teachers could negotiate contracts; before
that time, they didn't. And I was in my third year of teaching, I was
not tenured, and I wasn't really involved with the profession. I don't
know why, but they asked me if I would write the original contract there,
and another teacher and I sat down and wrote it. It was sixty some pages.
And with that, I was offered another principalship in the sleaziest manner
possible in Freehold Boro. The superintendent who was there at that time,
came to my area. I had tried to make the room look nice, but it had these
huge ceilings that leaked water down the blackboard. I brought in all
kinds of flowers and plants, and had them in the back windows. I was teaching
the kids when he came and said he wanted to talk to me. He said he had
heard about my working on this contract. I wasn't presenting it or anything,
I was just writing it. And he told me, "Obviously you're a teacher
leader in this district." Well, I never thought of myself as a leader
there, I was just writing this contract. And he said, "I want you
to know you have it made in this district and if you play it my way."
And I said, "What do you mean?" And he said, "I have a
principalship coming up that you can have, but you've got to get rid of
that contract." So in other words, you screw the teachers and then
you've got a principalship. That was basically his offer. I blew up. I
said, "I can't believe your offer." I almost threw him out and
he was the superintendent. He said, "You'll do it my way or else."
I said, "I'll take the or else because I'll be damned if I do it
your way. I can't believe you'd even suggest something like that to me."
I knew it was over. And I hadn't taught too many years or in too many
places. But I had teachers come to bat to help me. One was having a really
good second year, and he really appreciated the work. I said, "You
keep your mouth shut, you'll only get yourself in trouble trying to stand
up for me and the others too." I was fired from that district, but
I made them fire me. Because I had three years of teaching, I would not
sell out, and so I knew the gig was up. He called me in to talk, I remember
it was at lunchtime. I had to go into his office, and he said, "There's
no reason to give you a contract because you don't plan to stay with us."
I said, "Oh, but there is." And he said, "Why?" And
I said, "Because I deserve one. I've worked damn hard in this district
for three years with these kids and gone over and above board. I deserve
a contract." Then all of a sudden he began to find fault with my
teaching. I said, "What's wrong with my teaching?" He said,
"Well, for instance the way you teach reading." I said, "What
don't you like about the way I teach reading?" The year before he
had offered me the reading specialist position in the district, but I
happened to be in Europe at the time, and they needed to hire somebody
immediately. I knew that, he had told me that. They were just making things
up to find a reason not to give me a contract. I said, "Look, in
your position, you can take the best teacher and make him look rotten."
And he said, "You know that." I said, "I know that, and
you know that too." Well, in his office, he got so angry with me
that he jumped up and took off and left me sitting in his office. So then
I forced him: if he didn't give me a contract, he had to fire me. So he
fired me, and I went to the New Jersey Education Association for assistance.
I had applied to five districts, and I know every one of them today, because
contracts was such a sensitive issue at that time. But what he was doing
was union busting, and it had nothing to do with New Jersey Education
Association, it had to do with labor unions. It was kind of like 1916,
when leaders of the union were fired, and therefore the union had little
power. But I had the teacher's rights fund at my disposal to sue them.
And NJEA worked very closely with me, and we were doing it. If he did
this to me, he'd be doing it to other teachers, so I figured I wasn't
going to let that happen. In the meantime, I applied to five different
districts. I had gotten five contracts in those districts even though
he was blackballing me. In fact, the principal in Little Silver sat down
with me, and was telling me what went on behind the scenes. They wanted
to hire me immediately in Little Silver, but I had been blackballed by
the Freehold superintendent. And this superintendent didn't know how he
was going to get my appointment through the board, and he didn't want
me to sign somewhere else. So he sent the principal to Basking Ridge.
Remember I told you the superintendent at Basking Ridge was really good?
The principal went up there under the guise that the Little Silver school
was looking into the math program at Basking Ridge. So then, just casually,
he said, "By the way, we had this candidate come in, Phil May. What
do you think of him?" He said, "Let me tell you, Basking Ridge
being the kind of district it is, I don't have any openings here. But
if he were to come in here for a job, I'd find one." So the principal
got on the phone, called, and I got the contract in Little Silver. I got
a contract in all five districts. I don't know how I got the contracts,
because when they interviewed me, they asked the questions. I said, "Are
you finished? Now, I have questions for you. I don't want you to think
I'm smart or putting you on, but I'm in one of the worst teaching situations
I could ever possibly be in, and I will never be in another one."
Well, then I really grilled them. I went on forever. "What kind of
district do you have here, what kind of policy, etc." And even with
that, I got contracts in all of them. I went to Little Silver, I grew
up in Shrewsbury, so I went there. And that's where I spent the rest of
my career, about twenty-five, thirty years there.
Mr. Aumack: In
Little Silver?
Mr. May: In
Little Silver.
Mr. Aumack: Is that
school still standing there?
Mr. May: Oh,
yes. I just retired a few years ago.
Mr. Aumack: What
did you teach?
|
Mr. May teaching sixth
grade
|
Mr. May: In fact, they
didn't want me to retire, which was kind of nice. I taught sixth, seventh
and eighth. Mostly sixth, and social studies, mostly, but I taught other
things. But when I turned fifty-five, I retired. They wanted me to stay
on to sixty-two at least. They said, "You're at the height of your
career, you're in educational politics, on the top." I was involved
with NJEA. I was on the committee that did the hiring and firing of NJEA
people at the state level. I was one of the teacher representatives on
that board. I had just put on two plays for the kids, Oliver one
year, and Annie. And I loved the classes, I loved teaching them.
They asked, "Why would you leave?" I said, "I have to leave
sometime." And you really reach a point where you have so many other
interests, not that I don't love teaching. I just had so many other interests.
So I retired early.
Mr. Aumack: Are
there any other stories that you can give me about the politics of
education?
Mr. May: Yes. You've
heard how I got involved in the politics of education through this superintendent,
but I didn't learn my lesson, because when I got to Little Silver, Little
Silver had no contract, and they had said they would never have a contract
because it's just not the way to do things. Now you don't work without
a contract. But then having a contract was considered terrible and unprofessional.
In other words, you take what the board gives you. So I guess I had just
gotten on tenure, and they asked me to be on the negotiating committee.
I'd never been on a negotiating committee, I'd just written a contract,
but I knew that wasn't the way it was supposed to work. I went in there
and there were three teachers. The teacher chairing it goes in to the
superintendent with the agenda, and said, honest to God, it was like whispering,
and the superintendent says, "This one I can take care of, that one
might be a possibility, this one, no don't bring that up, it would only
upset them, now this one I can take care of." And he'd go through
and he'd cut out all things on he didn't want to address, and all you
had were the things that were nothing things. And I thought, "I can't
believe this." So we went through that year. The following year we
had a strange set of circumstances. The superintendent died. One of the
two principals in the district, and the one who was real aggressive, takes
over like a superintendent, and he wants us to go in to him even though
he is just the principal. They hadn't hired a superintendent, and he wanted
us to go in with what we were proposing to him. And I wouldn't do it.
First of all, he wasn't the superintendent. And so, I write up the original
contract again. Sixty some pages again. Two other teachers were on that
committee; I wasn't head of the negotiating committee, the other one was.
I was dropping out if they didn't present a formal contract. We got right
to the wire. We wrote the contract, had all the language, but we needed
it typed up, and this was their out. Because they didn't have anybody
to type it, they weren't going to look at it. Well, I had a law
secretary who was a friend of mine type the contract. Then I got in touch
with NJEA. The head of negotiations said, "I really want to do this,
but we just can't get it typed and get all the stuff done." That
was her out. So I showed up that night with the representative from NJEA
and the contract typed, and I said, "You're going to be delighted,
I was able to get the contract typed, we have this and we're going in."
The board didn't want to talk to us, they didn't even want to touch the
contract. John Malloy, who represented us, stated, "It's just a contract,
it's negotiated between the two of you, it's an agreement of working conditions,
it's nothing to be afraid of, just look at what it says in the first page.
Look what it says in the first page." I'm watching him, because I
knew what he was doing. Well, they were curious, so they open it up. Well,
once they opened it up, they were negotiating. We worked out the original
contract, so I guess I negotiated the original contract there in Little
Silver about twenty, twenty-one years ago. Then I was involved with the
county and the state and even nationally in education politics, and in
Little Silver, I could do negotiations or I could do grievances for Little
Silver. They were afraid if I were president I'd have them out on strike.
Things got really bad one year, really bad; the teachers didn't have an
agreement, they didn't know what to do, so they came to me, saying "Would
you take the presidency?" That was in June, and the following September
we were out on strike. But we never had to do it again. It was one of
those times when we just couldn't come to an agreement. They never thought
the teachers in Little Silver would do such a thing. I told them we were
doing it. I said, "We're not going to work without a contract, we're
just not going to do it." I really feel that even through all that,
I had the utmost respect from most of the board members, the administrators,
and the superintendents.
Mr. Aumack: Why were they so
against these contracts?
Mr. May: Because they were
a threat. School boards, administrators, and superintendents could do
whatever they wanted without them. In Glenn Rock, the first school I taught
at, I was the fair-haired boy. They wanted me to be a principal. But if
we had been under contract, you can't just single out one and send him
or her for all this special treatment, paid classes and all. Contractual
benefits in that area will pay up to maybe six credits a year. These things
you have to negotiate in, you all have to agree. That's why they were
against contracts -- because it's power. Without contracts you had nothing
to say. They had full power over you and the district. But when you put
it on an equal playing field, where the boards and the teachers hammer
out a contract that's mutually agreed upon, it gives the teachers, or
any organization, certain rights. Our big problem over the years has been
not having the right to strike. We can strike, but the board can get an
injunction to have us go back. So you have the right to strike, but you
can't use it. And that's the bottom line, the board of education knows
that and knows that the teachers are going to be like the first group
in Freehold, that that situation in Freehold is what got me involved with
county leadership. Those strikers got the worst sentences, I think, in
the history of state educational politics. The teachers went on strike;
it was a bitter strike, and they were going to make a lesson of those
six, ten people, whatever it was, including the union president. He got
six months in jail. I mean it's hard to believe just for not working.
I went to college with one of the women, and that's what really got me
involved personally. She was one of the negotiators and they threw the
book at her. I don't know what they got, six weeks, whatever the term
was, but just to make it more embarrassing, she had to have surgery while
she was in jail. Well, when they took her from the county jail, they put
her with the worst criminals, they took her from the county jail to the
doctor in a paddy wagon, handcuffed. Not a nice scene. So she had the
scars from that, and she always will. She was able to overcome a lot.
And she wasn't the only one, they all got it. The men had it the easiest.
They were allowed to teach the inmates. But the women, and this one particular
one I went to school with, were not. She had had a big student, a Black
girl, in one of her classes, and when she first had this student in class
she was kind of scared of her, because this woman is small, and this young
girl was big. She had had one child at thirteen or fourteen, another one
at fifteen by an uncle, and she was tough. Well, when Lynn went to jail,
they put her in a cell with this student. Lynn was petrified as to what
would happen to her. But as it turned out, the girl happened to like Lynn,
and saw that no one hurt her while she was in there. But it could have
been the other way around. That was what they did. The right to strike
is still an issue, because the boards can get an injunction, and if you
continue to stay out you're subject to all sorts of fines, jail, and so
on. So all the board has to do is hang on long enough, and drive you to
the wall. You're not going to win. It's like boxing with one hand behind
your back.
Mr. Aumack: All right,
let's talk about Asbury Park.
Mr. May: Asbury Park?
As a child growing up I went there to the amusements and to the business
district. We went shopping in the business district, maybe once a month
with my mother and father, if you could get him to come down and do some
shopping. In the summer time, the boardwalk was unbelievable. My mother
and father would bring us down there for fireworks, for the rides, or
for whatever. Not for swimming; we always went to Seabright to swim because
Seabright was the closest beach. But for the special boardwalk, Asbury
Park was it. And the Monte Carlo pool. I mean they had the best of everything
there in Asbury Park. Beautiful area, beautiful homes, well-kept, nice
city, as far as stores and commercial area. But when I got into my first
year of teaching, which was in Wall Township, I rented a house here in
Ocean Grove. I had always had ties here in the Grove, but I was never
here very much. I came to visit. But during my first year of teaching,
I rented a house over on Embury Avenue, and was here for that year. I
used to cross over the bridge to work. I used to walk to work, because
the gift shop I had a job at was in Asbury, right across the street from
Steinbachs. During that time the Monmouth Mall had opened up. The mall
was the first thing that really dented the business district of Asbury
Park. I remember Mom driving around and around forever, looking for a
parking place, but when the mall opened up, you had all the parking you
wanted, and also the big stores. So Asbury Park lost a tremendous amount
of business when the mall opened. But what happened next really finished
Asbury off, and that was the race riots. There was a sort of like ghetto
type area here on Springwood Avenue. Lake Avenue goes into Springwood
Avenue. There was a section there that had stores and so on, but they
also had prostitution and drugs, and all kinds of things going on that
street. I never really got beyond the first or second store, but I knew
that those things were going on. Springwood Avenue goes into West Lake
Avenue, too. At one time, they changed the name of it. But then they went
back to the original, and I see as I went down that road a week or so
ago, it's Springwood Avenue. But there were a lot of Black businesses
as well as White, and most everything on that street was controlled by
White slumlords. And they got all the money, and the area got the crime
and corruption. So the African Americans who were there finally just had
it up to here. There were riots all over the country in the 1970s. I was
in the gift shop when the police came; it was like a police state, they'd
come up, and one business after the other was leaving the area. This business
that I worked for was started by German immigrants. The son was a friend
of mine. He's in his eighties now, and he took over the business with
a partner, and then I worked for them. So it was a business that had been
in the family since the turn of the century. The police came in and told
them to pull their window in every night. They had just taken over a week
to put a window display in, and I remember they had this big beautiful
American Eagle made in Italy. It was a Majolica type, it was gorgeous,
and they had it on the turnstile, and the police come in after they had
just finished and say there was a possibility of riots at any time and
we suggest you pull your window in every night. It had taken them a week
to put it in, and I remember the frustration of the owner: "We'll
just have to take our chances, we're not pulling the window in."
But after the riots, they moved out of town. I happened to have a friend
of mine who was African American, and lived in Monroe Towers over here.
The first and only time I went there for dinner happened to be the night
of the big fire in Asbury Park. We were up high on Monroe Towers, which
is one of the apartment buildings here, and we heard all this commotion
and noise, and fire trucks, and we went out on his porch. He had a porch
overlooking this. We literally watched them burn Springwood Avenue. I
mean the fire started, and they tried to contain it before it got to Cookman
Avenue, and they were able to, but it was just police, firemen, everywhere,
and fires up and down the whole street, burning the whole place down.
Black businesses and White businesses went, because once it started, everything
went. So that was the demise of Asbury and now today I'm working with
Asbury Park quite closely because Wesley Lake borders Asbury Park and
Ocean Grove, it belongs to both. About five summers ago, it was an extremely
hot summer, and nothing had been done to that lake since Asbury Park went
downhill. There was no more commercial value to the swan boat, the rides,
the merry-go-rounds; one by one, they just went. The lake itself has been
abandoned. On a good day, the western end was about six inches. Usually
it was a mud flat with garbage just strewn all over it, and this particular
summer was so hot, it was just incredible. The pondweed with all the garbage
collected in it, and the rats are swimming - it was just awful here. So
I started a group. I decided I was doing something about it. I was going
to run for Township Committee because none of the Township Committee wanted
to do anything about it, so actually I did run for Township Committee,
as an Independent, on my own, and both the Democrats and Republicans wanted
me to get off that ticket. They were both afraid that I would win. Attention
was paid to the lake. Not so much financial, but I got appointed to the
West Lake Commission. I joined that in August. They met every three months,
and I had about ten motions to make. I had my three friends with me that
I had started this group with. It's called The Citizens for West Lake.
Now there's about five hundred. In the beginning I brought all the ones
I could get to the meeting. Now I was on the commission. I had ten motions:
I made the first one that we meet every month because of the severe problems
we have. They said they don't have any money. And I said, "You only
meet when you have money? You're not going to get any money; you may as
well as not meet at all." Well, they voted that down. Then we met
at five thirty, and I said, "That's not a time to have a meeting
when you're really serious about doing something, because people are eating
at that time." I made a motion that we meet in the evening. Well,
they voted that down. My third motion was that for the next meeting, we
meet at the lake site, walk around the lake, and develop short and long-range
plans. Well that was it. I couldn't even get a second to that one! The
mayor was running, and he was from this area, and my friends said, "You
don't even care?" Well, he said, "I'll second it." Well,
they voted that all down, too. And then they called the meeting off. That
was my first meeting. They met again in December, and none of them showed
up in December. In January, guess who was left on the committee? Me. So
I had seniority, and I was chair of the committee, and we had a whole
new committee of the people from both towns and I've been working with
the citizens for West Lake in that group ever since. While I was chair,
I made the Citizens for West Lake a subcommittee of the West Lake Commission.
And then I got out as head of the Citizens for West Lake, because I'm
talking to myself being both chair of the Wesley Lake Commission and the
head of citizens for Wesley Lake. I'm still involved with it, still on
the executive board and I'm still on the commission. We've been very successful.
We dredged the Western end of the lake. Once I got a call from the state
saying that an anonymous donor had donated fifty thousand dollars, telling
the state to call me and find out where I wanted it used. I don't know
who the person was, but it must be somebody who knew me. And that money
combined with state money gave us the funds to dredge the western end,
so now instead of a mud flat, it is four feet deep. They still don't take
proper care of it, we're still have to be on them, but at least it is
four feet deep there now. And then we have the next step planned: fountains
in the center here, and on the western end. And we're moving on that.
My involvement in Asbury Park over the years has been working there, and
going there for the amusements and the business center, and now working
on the lake here which borders the two towns.
Mr. Aumack: So it seems that
you made all this work towards saving one small part of Asbury Park, and
it seems that no one wanted to help.
Mr. May: Not in
the beginning they didn't. But once I got the new board, I was chair of the
Wesley Lake Commission for two years. Then I worked to get Asbury Park
involved, so my vice-chair was from Asbury. I wouldn't take the chair without the
vice-chair being from Asbury Park, and I met with him every month. He
didn't make many of the meetings, but he made a lot of contributions. I met with him,
we did the agenda, we got to the
point where we were going out to lunch doing the agenda. Then the
head of public works in Asbury Park got on the board, and it was wonderful, so I dropped out as chair.
He's been the chair of the West Lake
Commission now for two years. The first year he wanted me to take it. And he even tried a fast one when I
called for nominations, because I was chair and nobody was going to
nominate anybody so I had to stay chair. I said this wasn't going to
work. So I told him I'd be vice-chair, and now I'm a member at large on
the committee. As a member at large, I wasn't appointed by Neptune, I
was elected by Neptune and Asbury Park to be on the commission, which was
nice. I like that because both groups were interested in my staying on.
So there's been a lot of support, although originally it wasn't easy to come by. Nobody was
interested.
Mr. Aumack: What do
you think the difference was between the second go around as opposed to
the first go around? Was it just different people or different times?
Mr. May: Different people.
People make the difference. They're pushing their interest. I mean the
first ones were waiting for the state to give them money and then they'd
spend it, that was it. And state's not giving anything, federal government
wasn't giving anything, so why meet? I hate to say it, but it was like
the good old boy network: it looks good on your resume to be on the Wesley
Lake Commission. But it has moved forward, and we've got a very active
Citizens for West Lake group and the West Lake Commission has moved forward.
Then I heard about a woman who was having trouble with Exxon, out by Dunkin'
Doughnuts here on the corner of 33 and 35, because they had a station
there that had a gas spill, and she was complaining about a cancer cluster
and so on. Well, I didn't know what a plume is, I didn't know any of this
environmental jargon, but anyway, plume is the direction that this leak
has taken. The gas was moving towards the lowest level, which would be
Wesley Lake. Well, it would take forever for it to get here, but it was
nevertheless moving in that direction. She wanted it cleaned, so I teamed
up with her and we had our first march. We called it the Plume to the
Flume March. So we met over there, we marched from Exxon down here with
a group of people; we marched to Founders Park in Ocean Grove, and that
was kind of like the turning point. Then it became fashionable to defend
the lake. The mayor of Neptune has a charity ball, and they pick a charity.
Where does the money go? To the Citizens of West Lake - and we got about
ten, twelve thousand dollars from that charity ball. And now people are
still interested in what's happening to the lake.
Mr. Aumack: Let's
go back to the race riots. Can you talk more about the causes?
Mr. May: I taught African
American history for about twenty-five years. I got a federal grant when
all this was going on. I started teaching in Freehold Boro in a ghetto
school, and the majority of students, probably sixty to seventy percent,
were African American. They had nothing in the way of African American
History. There was no history, nothing for them. It wasn't like somebody
told me they should be having a course in Black history, I just thought
these kids should have it. I never had Black history in school, if they
taught me any, I was probably daydreaming, but it would probably have
been about George Washington Carver because he was a scientist and a great
man, or Booker T. Washington. Booker T. Washington was a black leader
who did what the white people wanted him to do. I'm not saying he was
a sell out, because at that time he was able to accomplish a great deal
for his people. But he had to agree that races should be segregated. He
agreed with that. But I would get a book, it was called Proudly We
Hail. I would read to the kids when we had a lull. I'd read about
a famous Black person, and so on. Where I grew up it was all White in
Shrewsbury. I taught to Little Silver, it was all White, too. Red Bank,
where I went to high school, is mixed, so when we went to high school
it was mixed. But we never had Black History in Shrewsbury, and I came
from the same kind of district. And so I applied for a grant to teach
Black History. I developed a ten week unit that I taught every year on
African American history. You ask, what caused the race riots, there were
many things, but it was simply that enough was enough. It was the right
time and the right leadership. If you didn't have a Martin Luther King
there leading and other people like him, then I don't know whether the
Civil Rights movement would have taken off then. The segregation issue
would have taken off eventually. It had been an issue for years, but it
was like the right time, the right moment, the right leaders, to do this.
President Harry S. Truman was the one who really started the idea of integration.
During World War II , there were the Black units and the White units.
The races were not even mixed in the military. But President Truman integrated
the armed forces. As president of the United States he could do that.
So that integration in the armed forces was a step. And then in 1954 the
Brown vs. the Board of Education decision came out and was supposed to
end segregation in schools. And meanwhile the right wing bigots were fighting
integration in the military, fighting the school integration in all kinds
of ways. Governor Wallace was trying to say we're not going to integrate
the schools here in Alabama, but in 1963 the Civil Rights Act was passed
and that ended the segregation in everything. It's interesting that all
three branches were involved: one was a presidential decision, one was
a Supreme Court decision, and the other was by vote of Congress. The Civil
Rights Act passed. So you had all three branches working on this, but
that didn't mean the people wanted to integrate. So then came the fight.
You had the laws and the books, but then you had the fight for the integration.
And that created the riots, and sit-ins, and wade ins. The beach between
Asbury Park and in Ocean Grove is not a common beach. I think it belongs
to Asbury, I'm not really quite sure, but there's a beach at the end of
Wesley Lake, that was a "Black beach," that's where blacks could
swim. But that's also where the sewers emptied into. With the civil rights
movement there were many, many new ideas and laws, and of course, they
triggered the riots. And you had the leadership. It wasn't just Martin
Luther King. Black leadership started in the 1940s, 1950s and 1960s, but
now it had the legislature and decisions, and the leadership to implement
Civil Rights. That is the race riots as I see it.
Mr. Aumack: Was
there a growth of African Americans moving into Asbury Park?
Mr. May: Blacks had
been there for many years. Asbury was a very wealthy city, and it needed
workers in the hotels and the homes and so on, and Blacks were there,
just as they were in Glenn Rock in Bergen county. I wasn't even aware
of that because it was not my neck of the woods. And in Red Bank, the
same way, the Blacks were literally on the other side of the tracks. And
I'm sure since then there has been an influx because as people move out,
more move in, and the Blacks are in Asbury more and more.
Mr. Aumack: Let's
talk about Ocean Grove. Tell us about
the Pine Tree Inn.
Mr. May: In teaching
it's not true that you get paid twelve months a year. You get paid ten,
and you're unemployed for two. So you look for another job or spread your
money out over twelve months. I had taught summer school and those things.
I've always had ties here in Ocean Grove and I liked it enough that I
really wanted to buy something here, but I had a home up in Tinton Falls
on Sycamore Avenue. I thought it would be different to have a bread and
breakfast rather than teaching summer school every year. I always like
to try new things. So I thought I'd try a bed and breakfast see how that
worked out. The Pine Tree Inn came up for sale and my partner and I purchased
it, but I ran it during the summer. And I started the inn. The woman we
bought it from had a dinner at the end of the season on Labor Day weekend.
She invited my partner and me to meet the people who were there. One lady
with her cane came over. She was ninety years old, and she said, "I
hear you went to Montclair." And I said, "Yes, I did."
And she said, "I went there, too." I said, "What year did
you graduate?" And she said, "I graduated in 1911." I said,
"1911; that was the first class!" She said, "Yes I was
in the first class that graduated from Montclair." And it turns out
that she and her two sisters were great nieces of President Cleveland.
They were actually those three and their brother. But the brother didn't
come with them. But one sister was ninety, one was eighty-eight, and the
other was eighty-six. And the last time they came to the Inn they were
about ninety-six, ninety-four, and ninety-two. And the brother was still
alive in his late eighties. They were wonderful guests. I ran the hotel
summers, then, because I love doing places over, I did the whole thing
over, and, in fact the place was in Country Living after I finished
it. I sold the place in Tinton Falls and I moved to the Pine Tree Inn.
Now I was back living in the Grove again, always getting involved in things.
I was on the Executive Board of the Historical Society at the time and
I also had my real estate license in town, and I also had, since I had
the hotel, membership to the Hotel Association. I was treasurer of the
Hotel Association and in fact one of the founders of the Chamber of Commerce
- founded the Chamber of Commerce in this town. I founded the Citizens
of West Lake Group, too. So I had the Inn for about seven years, and the
problem is, I'm not an absentee landlord and I had problems. I never had
a break and was working fourteen months a year because in the fall I was
starting the school year off and closing the hotel which is like double
work, and in the spring I was opening up the hotel and closing out the
school year. So it was like round the clock work. I wanted to make a private
home out of it, but I thought so much of the guests I didn't really want
to tell them they can't come anymore, so I sold the hotel and I moved
to Interlaken. Interlaken is just a mile from Ocean Grove; it's on the
other side of Asbury Park, a lovely community. But in many ways afterwards
I wished I had kept the Pine Tree because the new owners were terrible,
and the guests never came back again after they came back that year and
left early. Interlaken was wonderful, but the Grove is really unique.
It not only is a National Historic Site, it's between two lakes, Wesley
Lake, that I'm on, and Fletcher Lake on the South end, and the Ocean to
the east. So it's a very small area, about a half a square mile, but a
tremendous amount of the work here is done by volunteers. There are many
different volunteer groups in town. And when you come from this kind of
environment and you go to Interlaken where everything is just wonderful
but was also kind of boring compared to Ocean Grove, so I bought this
beat up old house in Ocean Grove. I did it over, I furnished it, but I
never lived in it, never even spent a night in it, but I had it on the
Christmas house tour, etc. People used to call it my doll house. Eventually
I sold it, and then this place came up for sale, and what I liked about
this was the size of the property. Ocean Grove was like house, alleyway,
house, and alleyway all very close. But this house had property, and it
was a big house. I was just going to buy it; I still wasn't going to leave
Interlaken, and I was just going to buy it, make some changes, and then
resell it. Well, I got into it; I designed the whole thing, did the whole
thing over, put in new ceilings, did the wallpaper, and everything, even
the kitchen and the bathroom. And I moved in. I was no sooner back in
the Grove when I was asked to take over the presidency of the Historical
Society. And meanwhile I was president of my local in education. Local
presidency of all the educational things is very difficult, because you're
negotiating contracts, you're negotiating salary, doing some work with
salaries, grievances, and so on and so forth. So I was president of the
local, I was president of the county, and I had ten thousand members,
and I was president of one or two other things, I had five other groups,
and then they were asking me to be president of this historical society.
I said, "Well, I want to know everything that happened since I left."
Anyway, I took it. You could only serve a limited term, two years. Anyway,
they changed the constitution and I've been the president ten years. And
it's election year and I'm still trying to find somebody else to take
it. But anyway, when I took it over, we were a little hole in the wall
behind the bank over in town. The place took every bit of money we had
to rent it, and we couldn't even put our stuff in it. We made a move here
probably about five years ago. We moved into the Ocean Grove Camp Meeting
Association lobby, because they had a CEO there who they had hired who
was really good and interested in community involvement. They put out
a notice to all the organizations that if they'd like to be a part of,
or have a desk in the Ocean Grove Camp Meeting Association office so that
they could work together on common issues. No one responded but me. I
didn't want a desk and phone, I wanted the whole lobby plus a desk and
a phone, and I got it. And then about four years ago, we bought a collection.
We had to take the whole collection, and a lot of it had nothing to with
Ocean Grove. It was Asbury Park stuff, Avon, you know, shore community
things, but we had to buy the whole thing, and it was very expensive;
it was around thirteen thousand dollars. And we had no place to store
it, and really had no museum of our own. We were saving to buy a museum,
and if we spent the money, we wouldn't have it for the museum. I had the
deciding vote; it was nine to nine, so I had to break the tie, and I said,
"Only if we buy it, we get rid of everything that has nothing to
do with Ocean Grove." So we had an auction. Incidentally, that auction
was the first of several. We just had our fourth annual auction last week.
That first one was really a hoot because I did the auctioneering, and
I had never done that. But we made twelve to thirteen thousand dollars.
We made enough to pay for the whole collection and we have what we wanted
out of it. If you go out past the auditorium, you'll see the historical
society straight ahead of you. When the building came up for sale, it
was a kite shop and filthy and run down. The basement was so littered
with debris and garbage and busted bricks and dirt that they thought it
was a dirt floor. It took six months to negotiate the deal, but we did.
Then we didn't have any money to fix it up. We only had about three or
four thousand dollars, and that was only enough to clean the rugs and
paint and put all our stuff in. And the rugs were awful. So I put out
an appeal to friends and members, and so on, to be a founder of the new
museum. If they give twenty-five to ninety-nine dollars, they'd get on
this list, and so on and so forth. And I was very fortunate, because the
executive board voted that whatever money we got we could use it to put
the museum together. So I didn't have to go back to them for each expenditure.
Well, the money came in and although I had never done fundraising before,
we took in about fifty thousand dollars. The museum now looks wonderful.
Not only upstairs, but downstairs as well. We have a new cooling system,
and a gallery. So that has been my involvement with the historical society.
Now we're involved with the end of Main Avenue where there was a statue
called the Angel of Victory statue that was put up in 1878 to commemorate
the hundredth anniversary of the Battle of Monmouth. This was kind of
interesting because the Civil War had just ended and Ocean Grove was only
nine years old. The statue was ten feet and the base was eight feet. In
1922 it had troubles with the metals it was made of. The lead corroded
within itself and it collapsed in a storm or something. So anyway, recreation
of this statue is something that we'd like to. We can't restore it, but
we'd like to recreate it. That's one of the main projects we're working
on now. But as you can see, I'm very much involved with the town here.
And what are some other questions that you have?
Mr. Aumack: What's
happening in Ocean Grove now?
Mr. May: Well, Ocean
Grove is really on an upswing. Maybe we should go back to when the gates
were taken down. Ocean Grove was set up by the members of the Methodist
Church, the Methodist Episcopal Church and it was an Ocean Grove Camp
Meeting association. They purchased this tract of land here, and of course
the religious laws went into effect. And Sunday was the day to worship
so when it started out, no horse carriages were allowed in this town on
Sunday. They had to be out of sight. Not only couldn't they be used, they
had to be out of sight. So they had barns to put them in. Well, and then
the same law was applied to anything with wheels, such as bicycles. You
couldn't use anything with wheels. Of course when cars came in, cars had
to be out of town on Sunday, too. It was really unique. When I had the
hotel, it was hard to explain to somebody because it was like a whole
community with cars that you can't see! Saturday nights I would take my
guests over to Asbury Park to a parking garage where they'd park their
cars. Then I'd bring them back, then I'd take my car over, park it, and
I'd walk in. And from Saturday night at midnight to Sunday night at midnight
there were no cars in this town. And no bicycles. A court case that came
up that involved delivery of newspapers. The town had made a special exception
for newspaper delivery vehicles to come in at four in the morning to deliver
papers, and someone complained about it, saying they shouldn't be in here
because they have cars. The courts were just waiting for that case to
come up, and they threw the book at Ocean Grove, saying that everything
they were doing was wrong from start to finish, violating separation of
church and state, and that they can no longer keep vehicles out of Ocean
Grove on Sundays, and that I could understand. But then they went so far
as to assign us to Neptune, even though we were our own community here,
run by the Ocean Grove Camp Meeting Association. Now the courts should
have at least let us form our own community here. Instead they assigned
us to Neptune and Ocean Grove became a part of Neptune. We had a big town
meeting. I was new kid on the block then, because I had only had the Pine
Tree Inn about a year, and I didn't know whether they'd run me out of
the place or not, but I made the motion that we break away and form our
own community here. And it passed overwhelmingly. Then we started the
campaign with signatures, and the whole bit. Then we had another group
that kind of undermined us here in town that was going to stay with Neptune,
and thought Neptune was going to honor everything in the Grove. They weren't,
though they said they were. So that issue was a whole historical controversy
here. Eventually the property values went up after the town opened up.
We didn't know what they'd do, but they went up. About ten years later,
real estate in general plummeted, and in the Grove in particular they
really went down. These old hotels became outpatient centers for slumlords
who filled every room with people recovering from some mental or emotional
disorder. The slumlords didn't take care of these people, didn't give
them medication, and they'd wander the streets aimlessly. It was really
a bad situation in the Grove. But now it's really on the upswing. We've
gotten rid of most of those places that were abusing these people and
just milking them for every penny that they could get from the state,
and you'll see restoration going on all over town.
Mr. Aumack: What
would you like to say to Monmouth County residents who are reading or
hearing this recording?
Mr. May: Monmouth County has such a rich
history.
I would tell them that they should get involved in preserving the heritage that we have
here. Right from the start of our country, we were at the crossroads of
the Revolution. I would also say that New Jersey is one of the greatest states,
too. I mean
I'm retired now, and I'm thinking, "I could make a move," but every time I sit down to seriously think about it, I can't
think of any place that would be better than New Jersey, and Monmouth County in particular. You're an hour from New York,
you're an hour and a half from Philadelphia. You want to go to Boston,
it's six hours, and you can make it in a day. Washington, D.C., if you
left here at six in the morning you could be there by ten in the
morning. You can go all over. I also do a lot of antique shows. And in
this area here, you can go from North Jersey, South Jersey, you know,
East, West, it's just a wonderful location for antiques, too. It's a state that people
love to make fun of, but at the same time, New Jersey is one of the
wealthiest states in the country. It is either the first or second wealthiest
state in the country. And people love living here. You
can make fun of it, but the statistics speak for themselves as far as what
it has to offer.
Mr. Aumack: How has
Ocean Grove changed, and how has Asbury Park changed?
Mr. May: Well, Asbury
Park has really made a tremendous change. It went from one of the best
boardwalks that we have in the state, probably second only to Atlantic
City, really down. The Monte Carlo Pool was the largest salt-water pool
in the world, and it no longer exists. And the business district, and
the beautiful homes are decaying. I mean it is run down, completely run
down. The lake here, which was so beautiful, I don't know where to begin
over there. Asbury Park and Ocean Grove used to be called the Twin Cities,
because they were founded by the same people. Ocean Grove was founded
about ten years earlier. Because of its small size, the fact that the
Ocean Grove Camp Meeting Association has never left has contributed to
Ocean Grove's upswing. It was about twenty years ago that court decision
came out. It was only twenty years ago that you had to have your cars
out of here; we're not talking ancient history. The Ocean Grove Camp Meeting
Association kept up the auditorium and their buildings. There is not an
Ocean Grove police force, but there is a citizens patrol that was formed
here. I'm on that too. Unfortunately I don't have much time to devote
to it. And I wasn't one of the founders of it. But volunteers go out from
nine at night until three in the morning in old police cars, called the
Citizens Patrol, and they just drive in the streets. They can't arrest
anybody, but if they see something going on, they can let the Neptune
police know. The citizen's patrol was formed because we had so many problems
years ago. We don't have as many as we did; but there were break ins,
robberies, and so on. We also have a beautification committee, which does
a lot of the work the township should be doing with our parks. They do
the plantings and so on. The historical society takes care of the historical
artifacts, and provides the museum for the town. The Fishing Club doesn't
just concern itself with the fishing on the pier, they do community things,
too. The Chamber of Commerce is involved with a lot of things. There's
over twenty-five groups in this little town. The same people are on different
groups, that's why you hear me saying I'm on this and that group. There
is a crossover of people into different groups for different causes.
Mr. Aumack: I think that's
a great place to stop, so thank you very much.
Mr. May: My
pleasure.
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