THE ROCKAWAY I KNEW
By Matthew Bashie

CHAPTER NINETEEN; HORSE-SHOE CRABS & DEAD BODIES

We found a "real person dead body" on the beach! Most children find cans, coins, pieces of pottery, bottle caps, and lost jewelry while sifting through the white beach sand. We found a cadaver.

It was late spring in the year 1955 and already the quaint resort town of Far Rockaway had been awarded three perfect weekends in succession . Throngs of beach goers, sun worshipers had already welcomed the summer and a larger crowd than usual took every advantage of our three local beaches - the 20th Street beach where I lived with my parents in a large apartment complex known as "Wavecrest Gardens - On The Ocean", a small sandy strip to the immediate east of our beach was called "Roche's" and an even larger stretch of land further east know as "Ostend."

It was a "school clerical day" in May - a few days before that weekend holiday heralding the official beginning of the vacation season. With nothing else to do and with nowhere else to go, two of my friends and I decided to observe nature's yearly ritual of "horse-shoe" crabs - leaving the depths of the ocean to reclaim the land for the purpose of spawning. There were dozens of these prehistoric creatures moving about over the sand in order to perform services necessary and imperative to the preservation of their own species.

Personally speaking, I found the monsters to be both disgusting and frightening to look at. I never understood why they were referred to as "horse-shoe" crabs when they looked more like the helmets worn by German soldiers in WWII, except for being about twice the size. But it was "two against one" and that is what my little pals wanted to do - go to see the ugly crabs - so that is exactly what we did.

We leisurely strolled down to the water's edge and then walked eastward towards the neighboring beach. Off to a section divided between two (man-made) rock jetty formations, there is a small ocean area that was restricted from swimming - it was the "fishing beach" and it was not uncommon to see a dozen or so men, shoeless and with pants legs rolled up, standing in the surf and casting out lines. My father often used this very beach himself and during sweltering summer afternoons he would join with these other men in pursuit of a free seafood meal.

That morning, the beaches were deserted. We were all alone with each other and with our thoughts. As we continued our eastward journey, we could not help but notice something out of the ordinary lying on the ground at the water's edge about a hundred yards ahead of us. Of course it could have been a large piece of driftwood, maybe part of some vessel lost at sea, or a baby whale having lost its way. Perhaps the carcass of a shark, once captured and then abandoned by some deep-sea fisherman out on his pleasure craft on a sunny afternoon. But, we three "lived" on the beach. We had heard about this "kind of thing" before. Although none of us had ever personally experienced the sight of a drowned person lying at the surfs edge, it was a shock but no surprise. We slowly walked in the direction of the object, and then when we were close enough to be certain, our worst suspicions were realized. We had found a dead body!

This was the mid 1950s. There were no cell phones. The summer season had not yet begun so there were no open concessions, bathhouses, restaurants - nothing and no one around to see us or hear us. Always being the one to "lead the retreat" I volunteered to "go for help." I started to rush away only to be stopped by a holler from my best friend Ralph who wanted to know what my hurry happened to be. Ralph reminded me that what had once been a human being was "not going anywhere" so I should take my time. Meanwhile, the boys would stay at the spot while I found someone to assist us.

The nearest telephone was an emergency "call-box" located on a sign post on the boardwalk - but the boardwalk had ended about a block away so I had to walk back, find the entrance to the walkway and when I finally reached the phone, it had been vandalized so it was completely inoperable and was of no assistance. There was no one in sight on the boardwalk so I had to "trot" northbound to the main boulevard and I had absolutely no idea of what to do when I got there. A walk usually taking only a few minutes seemed like an hour. Ever hear the old expression: "You can never find a cop when you need one?" Well, that was not true that morning because parked on the boulevard, only a few feet from where I was standing was a black & green New York City police unit - and both policemen were sitting in the front seat.

I hurried up to the car and probably said something like "We found a real person dead body" because the officers obviously thought that I was joking. It took a few minutes to convince them that I was serious. I expected to ride with the men to the foot of Beach 19th Street (the nearest road leading to the beach) but I was not invited inside because "I had no shoes on and my feet were wet and sandy." (Do you believe that one??) So the cops got to the end of the street before I did and they had to wait for me to "catch up" with the squad car. Both men exited the vehicle and accompanied me to the water's edge where when they saw my two friends standing at the water and a large mass at their feet, both cops broke into a run and it took me a much longer time to arrive at the destination. Even before I got there, one of the cops passed me on his way back to the car to radio for assistance and to get a blanket with which to cover the body.

Within ten minutes, several more representatives of the 101st precinct had arrived and a small crowd was collecting. The officers were milling about and writing things into note pads. They even asked the three of us for our names and addresses and what surprised me most was that they did not chase us away - and I was certainly expecting them to do just that. However, we were allowed to remain and within an hour or so, some older man all dressed in white and carrying one of those old fashioned doctor's black bags arrived at the scene and pronounced the poor woman dead - like there was any doubt in anyone's mind. Then two men (also dressed completely in white) arrived at the scene with a stretcher and placed the corpse onto it and carried it to a waiting ambulance. Even after the "object of attention" had departed the scene, more and more people continued to arrive. Soon, over two hundred people were standing on the beach watching six or seven policemen compare notes and converse with each other. Finally, one of the older cops addressed the crowd by saying: "Ok folks! It is all over now! Nothing left to see! Go back home! So I asked the cop: "Why do the people have to leave? This is a public beach!" The officer looked at me, snapped his log book closed and said: "You're right kid! As you were people!" And at that, New York City's Finest departed the beach.

Oh yes. About the dearly departed. It seems that the unfortunate older woman had been in swimming and went out over her head and drowned - no lifeguards were yet on duty until the Memorial Day weekend. Local authorities were aware of her loss and had looked for her for several hours on the day she had gone missing - a week or so before. Obviously they did not locate her. Normally, ocean tides will carry a body further west so someone who was "lost" on Beach 17th Street would probably end up washing ashore on Beach 25th Street or somewhere further down the coast. The 57 year old woman, still wearing bathing attire, floated to shore on the same beach upon which she had last been seen. Sometimes things like that DO happen.

If you wish to contact me at any time, feel free to do so through this web site. matt@rockawaymemories.com

I always love hearing from my fans and friends. M. B.