1888 — Vincent Dicks

The Storm of the Century, long to be known as the Blizzard of ‘88 crippled transportation in the east. Hundreds died as the packed cities had no good way to remove the ice and crusted five feet of snow. Drifts up to 50 feet high and frozen conditions stopped fire fighting and ice took down early communications wires. By June it was unseasonably warm. John Lucas was overcome with heat stroke while observing the completion of his Keystone Bank headquarters. He would die at the Monmouth House in August, after a deathbed confession to his wife Elizabeth. He had looted the bank’s assets, in an attempt to keep the Land Improvement Companies afloat, and while he did not disclose the amount, he was in the hole by over $650,000.

In Asbury Park over four mornings in late July beach goers were treated to a woman seemingly standing on a plank riding the waves. She did not give her name, but it was likely Emma Spreckels, daughter of Sugar King Claus Spreckels.

Asbury Park boasted a variety of beach wear. Sea Girt had a singular costume. In Long Branch in the 1860s men would dip in the nude early in the morning, so of course no women were allowed in the water. There were strict bathing times, and as most doctors advised, it was an in and out affair. No respectable woman would linger in the water, and they always checked the swimming schedule before going in.

At Sea Girt, where farmers had been coming to swim one weekend each summer since the Revolution, there were less strict rules, and a very relaxed, friendly attitude. This article from the Philadelphia Press outlines the charm of the place which holds today. It is still not hard to get a smile and a hello while strolling the boardwalk in 2025.

“The great charm of Sea Girt, aside from its attractions of ocean and strand and wood, is the atmosphere of refined and tranquil ease that dominates it. As most of the Philadelphians are of the same social set, or at least of sets that in town touch each other, there is a delightful commingling of people. Open cliques are quite unknown, and the most frigid society woman feels at liberty to say "good morning" and "I hope you are well' to her neighbor. Such little civilities, to be sure, are to be taken at the value put upon them by their authors and, perhaps, not at the esteem with which the receiver may regard them. A smile and a pleasant salutation in July may signify nothing in October, and when Mrs. Fourstars meets Mrs. Lookaloft in a shop in town in autumn there may be only an icy stare on one side and humiliation and chagrin on the other. But away from home and while the summer days are here a little bending on Mrs. Fourstars' part is quite as agreeable to her as it is delightful to Mrs. Lookaloft.”

The Wistars and Bess Morris out for a drive to the Old Mill, Wall. Typical summer driving outfits

It was likely the remoteness of the hotels and the lack of other people to judge. There were no “excursionists” or “drippers” in Sea Girt. (People who came for the day on the train). Asbury Park and Long Branch were filled with them, as well as a few grifters and charlatans. But there was something else. At Sea Girt the community swam together, as a social event. In other places, many bathers avoided each other.

Here there was an openness and a practice of lingering on the sand. The Beach House was right on the dunes. There was no wet hair walk of shame back to the hotel after changing in a bathing house. The habits set in the 1880s lasted well into the 1900s.

In Spring Lake, in 1925, the Associated Press reported:

“Four bathers paid $5 fines each today when arraigned and found guilty of violating the bathing ordinance by appearing on the streets with their bathing suits not covered.”

Manasquan repeatedly arrested people for changing in their cars.

Back in 1888, the Pittsburg reporter noted the difference in Sea Girt:

“There are just three chief things to do here ride, bathe and talk. And everybody does them all. It is, too, perhaps, the only extremely swell seaside resort in the country in where the whole community goes down and "dips" at once. The fashionable Philadelphia maidens over at stately Elberon would be horrified at the mention of such a thing for them. Even the girls here cease to go into the sea when they go away to other resorts, but while they remain here they make the most of their liberty.”

“There are no forbidding rules as to the length of time a girl may bathe. She may wet her toes and lie on the sand all morning if she pleases, and- Sometimes she does, without fear that anybody will spring a time clock on her.”

The Morris family bathing wear in 1885 on the Sea Girt beach. The girls had the appropriate Turkish wrap

The newspapers of the time often described the variety of dress for people from different parts of the country. At the more crowded resorts there was more variety, and you had to bring your own bathing wear. Women of the day all covered their bodies, except perhaps the arms,

Too risqué at the Jersey Shore and you might be removed by the bathing master. To make things simple, early on the Beach House and the Tremont provided bathing wear to their patrons. They were tight, which the young girls preferred, and the lack of variety apparently brought them closer together.

“The bathing dresses have a Sea Girt stamp on them. They were apparently all made on the same block and dyed in the same cauldron. They are so blue that they look black, and so tight they fit all over like gloves.

That is nice for swimming and floating, isn't it? The skirts come to the knee and are met with black stockings, and now and again a girl wears a pair of black silk slippers. For relief of color a handkerchief of fiery red silk is worn twisted Turkish fashion around the head, and when all the girls are plunged in a big roller you might fancy an immense Prussian flag were spread out on the sea, an array of red-bound heads on one end, a long line of black toes on the other and the white foam of the surf in the middle.”

The chance for individual expression was reserved for dinner. After changing from luncheon clothes and then driving clothes, a young woman showed her place in society with her evening wear.

“After bath, luncheon and a drive there is dressing for dinner. That has grown of late to be an important affair, by the way, for there is a greater show of gowns and diamonds than ever before. One charming young woman from Brooklyn is the possessor of 21 trunks and she has worn a different costume at every day since her arrival.

She rejoices in the ownership, among other things, of 17 parasols, each designed to match some special toilet. They were made at her own order to harmonize with her dresses.”