It would be safe to say that Beulah Cawthon is alive and well. Except that Beulah Cawthon died in 1968.

So, to be accurate, it is more correct to say Beulah Cawthon’s spirit is alive and well and living in the home where she found little peace, little comfort, and a lot of pain in her human life. Believers will say she’s been here a long time, and former owners talk about strange sounds, knocking, drawers opening and closing, and brush it all away with a calm, “oh, that’s just Beulah.”

Beulah is up to her pranks and apparently a very happy spirit these days, it seems. That’s because her home, Linden Hill, where she lived with her parents in the mid-20the century, was purchased last year by a couple of north easterners who are generous in the space they give her, understanding of her mischievous ways, and eager to share her friendship with 21st century skeptics and believers.

A prankster. That’s what owners Jim and Stacey call Beulah. They hear a knock on their front door, the dogs begin to bark, they open the door. There’s no one there. They go to the back door. No one there either. “That’s Beulah!” they say.

The lights dim. They go out. In this historic little city in northeast Mississippi, most people chalk it up to the utility company. Everybody’s lights dim once in a while. But at Linden Hill, it’s more than light dimming… the wall switch is actually turned off. Jim turns it back on and Stacy says, “that’s Beulah.”

So why is Beulah back in a house where she was terribly unhappy? Where she was accused of trying to kill her parents? Why is she back after spending the last 40 years of her life in what we generously call a mental hospital, but is more accurately an insane hospital? Why is she ‘pranking’ and making people feel comfortable around her and good about themselves?

Who knows, perhaps she isn’t ready to cross over; perhaps she wants to bring happiness where she saw little. Perhaps she is looking for people to pray for her and let her pass to eternal happiness. Perhaps….

It could be anything. But make no mistake about it, the presence of Beulah is very much active in Linden Hill in Holly Springs, Mississippi.

Beulahs’s story, as researched by Jim and Stacy as well as by Pulitzer Prize finalist for investigative reporting Jerry Mitchell, a reporter for the Jackson (MS) Clarion-Ledger, is thorough and ties a lot of loose ends together. But not completely. That’s probably the way Beulah wants it. But it’s a compelling story and has tied generations and families together.

Hearing Stacy and Jim talk about the slamming doors, seeing they’ve nailed shut all their windows because they’re tired of them opening and closing by themselves, listening to stories of how the wallpaper peeled off a wall the day the Aikins, who owned the home after the Cawthons, moved, demanded some firsthand investigation on my own.

That, and I wanted to visit my son, Jim of the Jim and Stacy couple who own Linden Hill.

It’s a magnificent house. Set on a hill 600 feet above sea level…the highest point in Mississippi is 800 feet, the top of a hill in Luka, about 80 miles from Holly Springs.. the house was built in 1841 and is Greek Revival in style. Like many antebellum homes in the area, it is one-story, features magnificent columns in front, and is surrounded by beautiful trees of several varieties. The two Linden trees in front, one of them now gone, gave the home its name.

Inside, a center foyer opens to the formal living room on one side, the everyday parlor on the left, and both have doors leading towards the length of the house behind, a formal dining room, Jim’s office on the left, and a massive kitchen, laundry room and bath on the right. At the back is a foyer that stretches the width of the house, and beyond, the master bedroom and bath. It’s comfortable, lived in, and easy to see how Beulah can feel at home.

Stacey is a way-out-of-the-box thinker, and her home décor shows it. She believes in living happily and comfortably, so surrounds the two of them with the things that make them feel that way. It isn’t unusual to see a full-sized mannequin wearing an exquisite wedding gown in the living room; Jim’s grandparent’s engagement photo in a large display of letters spelling out LOVE on one wall, a huge, white-robed angel over one of the six fireplaces in the house, that in front of yet another ornament, a Shoppe sign advertising an herbalist. Nor is it out of the ordinary for Stacy to have another full- size mannequin alongside the formal, fully set dining room table, wearing a long gown Stacy fashioned from old-fashioned sheet music.

Jim’s office is filled with everything from a mounted deer head, which Stacy decorated with costume jewelry, to books on history, the Marines, family, school yearbooks and other items over the years. It’s all neat, arranged artfully and spotlessly clean.

All of which is to say that a tour through this museum-like residence is a thrill in itself, with or without Beulah.

There are many tours through Linden Hill, both as a museum and home to Beulah. There is the 90-minute explanation and description of everything on the walk-through and the story of Beulah, and, like last month, when it was the showstopper on a tour of six or eight historic spots in the city. Because other buildings are involved in the two and a half hour Murderers and Marauders tour, it’s an abbreviated version of all that is magical about Linden Hill.

Jim and Stacy tend to spend their time in the back rooms, his office, the spacious and comfortable kitchen with its massive dining area and round table that invites conversation and laughter over endless cups of coffee, their bedroom, and the laundry and bath areas. The front of the house…the two parlors, entry foyer and dining room, are more Beulah’s, they say, and they like to let her have her peace and solitude. Reluctantly, but when convinced it was really what I wanted, they let me sleep on the large, comfortable couch in the formal parlor, the room once used for wakes and weddings, the one where Beulah seems to be most active.

I couldn’t wait to go to bed that first night.

NEXT: Beulah’s story and what she did on the tour

EDITORS NOTE: To Tour Linden Hill any weekend in October 2021, Tickets are Available by going to: LINDEN HILL HAUNTED HOUSE TOUR TICKETS

Whether you believe in spirits or not, the story of Beulah Cawthon is a sad one.

Beulah was the younger of two children of NW and Beulah Burke Cawthon. Her brother, William was born two years before Beulah’s birth on July 15, 1892. Beulah’s mother, NW’s second wife, was from the South like her husband. NW’s first wife had borne him one child in 1860, a daughter, Alice, who married a man named J.A.Bowen, and died at age 27 in 1887.

Both CW’s first wife, Martha and Alice are buried in Hill Crest Cemetery in Holly Springs, a historic cemetery where seven Confederate Generals, and at least one United States Senator are also entombed. Mr. Bowen is not buried there,

Not much is known about Beulah’s childhood. But when she was in her late 20s, and still living at home, her parents said she had mental problems and had her committed to the Mississippi State Insane Asylum in Jackson, MS.

That facility is gone now, but the site is the home of the University of Mississippi Medical Center. Beulah was apparently diagnosed with ‘circular’ manic depression, or bipolar disorder.

Apparently within the next few months she began to show improvement and returned home to Linden Hill, a charming one-story antebellum Greek Revival style home on one of Holly Springs’ main streets.

 

But not long after that, Beulah apparently exhibited signs of mental stress once again. She was once more taken back to the hospital. NW and his wife both died, he in 1928, his wife four years later. Neither is buried at Hill Crest,

 

As for Beulah, it was inside hospital walls that she spent the rest of her life. 40 years imprisoned in a couple of different hospitals, never to taste freedom again.

 

The story is told in stark and realistic detail by Charlotte Nairmore and Shirley Coleman, Cute, as she is popularly known, both granddaughters of Nana Akins, the lady who bought Linden Hill from the Cawthon estate in 1935 and lived there until her death. Nana also had a daughter who was suffering from depression, so, to ease family pressures, the children were raised off and on by other family members. Charlotte went to live with Nana at Linden Hill.

 

Charlotte, middle-aged now, attractive, vivacious and eager to share her story of growing up, together with Cute, can recall numerous stories from Nana Akins about Beulah. Nana said Beulah still lived in the house but was neither frightening nor out to do any harm. “Drawers opened and closed on their own,” Cute said, “but Nana would pay it no mind and just say, ‘oh, that’s Beulah!’

 

The granddaughters heard so many stories about Beulah and saw so many strange things going on attributed to her that they think nothing of all. Sure, they’ll say, the drawers open and close, there are knocks on the door but no one there, chandeliers gently swing back and forth, their crystals tinkling but there is no breeze; lights go on and off. They think of Beulah as a prankster, a spirit happy to be in the house and happy to be there with happy people.

 

And it’s from Nana Akins and recent research, the granddaughters know the life history of Beulah.

 

After coming home from the Insane Asylum after her few months stay, Beulah began to show mental distress once again. According to Charlotte, Beulah’s parents woke up at midnight and Beulah was standing over their bed with a hatchet. She was admitted back to the same hospital on Aug. 29, 1920. It was a month after her 28th birthday. In her lifetime, she never got to visit Linden Hill again.

 

Sometime in the next few years, Beulah was transferred to the East Mississippi State Hospital and that was where she died in 1968. Her brother William came back to Holly Springs and arranged for her burial in Hill Crest Cemetery.

 

But even in death, Beulah did not have love or family. She is entombed with her father’s first wife and their daughter Alice, neither of whom Beulah would have known. Her father had had a stone erected in another part of the cemetery commemorating his parents and his brother. But Beulah was resting with strangers to whom she wasn’t even related.

 

According to Charlotte, William returned once again to Holly Springs requesting a seance in Linden Hill with his sister. Charlotte said he wanted to talk to his deceased sister about something, but she never learned anymore of what happened.

 

 

Charlotte lives in Horton, Alabama now, but came back to Holly Springs last week to visit with her sister Cute and Jim and Stacey, the New York/New Jersey couple who purchased the house last year. She told stories about hearing sounds like boots with spurs on them, and thought it was a Confederate soldier, part of the team that had destroyed Union supplies in Holly Springs when General US Grant was encamped there. She recalls another night in 1968, the year Beulah died, when she said she felt someone grab her arm while she was sleeping, hard enough to awaken her and have her cry out. There was no one around, but there was a distinctive hand print on her arm.

 

After Nana Akins died, the house was up for sale but remained vacant for some time. Charlotte made a comment at the bottom of the for-sale ad Jim and Stacey saw online in their Arizona home. Her comment about Linden Hill was “Beautiful home but it does have a live-in-ghost, we all fondly call Bulah (sic).”

 

That was enough to entice Jim and Stacey to investigate a bit more, check out some other facts, then sell their home and businesses in Arizona, complete the sale sight unseen, and take up residence in a Greek Revival, antebellum, one-story home on a hill in Holly Springs. With a ghost named Beulah. Jim, formerly of Highlands, and Stacey, whose decorating style can only be described as exceptional and distinctive, have apparently made a cozy home for a spirit who revels in the ornate décor, the recycled trash turned into exotic treasures, the photographs of several generations, along with newspaper clippings telling family stories that decorate the walls.

 

Every day, and every night, they see and hear and even smell signs that Beulah is still very much a part of their home. They don’t say whether they believe in ghosts; they used to laugh at the idea. Regardless, the bargain price of the house was too good to turn down. They are comfortable with her, though they’ve made some adjustments. For instance, Beulah opened and closed the windows so much Jim nailed them all shut. They don’t answer the door every time they hear a knock…. their dogs rush forward, then whimper and cower in a corner. They try to ignore the horrible aroma of castor oil they smell occasionally…Stacey said she looked it up and it means the smell of death. Stacey also uses sage to bless the house and has rosary beads hanging of every door still standing…they took out many of the doors between rooms because of the constant opening and closing of them. But they know…somehow, they know….

 

Beulah Cawthon is still at Linden Hill. Although now, she’s happy with Jim and Stacey also in residence.

Want to tour the house and see for yourself? Tickets

Twin Light Hotel at the mouth of the Shrewsbury River. (from photo collection of Bob Johnson)

While the Act, which banned intoxicating liquors to everyone in America, was later recognized as a 14-year social experiment, it ended with the passage of the 21st amendment, which made it legal to drink again.

But along the Shrewsbury River, the Bayshore waterway that opened out to the Atlantic Ocean, the seafaring men who made their daily living fishing, clamming, lobstering and boat building, became the bootleggers, rum runners and smugglers who catered to the needs of a thirsty nation by night.

The age of the rum runner was a lively time for Highlands, and it’s still an exciting memory for that generation who can still hear the soft purr of high speed boats, the taste of Usher’s Green Stripe or Meyer’s Perfection, and the names of those revered rum runners who plied the trade.

Respected smugglers, those who guaranteed unadulterated pure liquor, dealt with the wine, brandy and liquor shippers Maurice Meyer of London. The firm had been established in London in 1869 and was highly respected, both in England as well as in the USA where, during Prohibition, they only dealt with respectable, though clandestine, businessmen.

Meyers was aware of Prohibition for sure, but also aware of the public’s resentment of it, and knew there was a need they could capably and safely fulfill. So, it designed a series of codes that were used by smugglers, issued fictitious names and London addresses where orders could be sent, and instructed their buyers in America to refer only to those code words and names in their cables and wires. Hence, the anonymity of the smugglers, and the respected firm’s dealing with rumrunners, could be protected.

The specific codes were kind of fun, relating to flowers, fruits, or vegetables or meats that were familiar to the baymen. Buchanan’s Black and White Scotch, for instance was known as roses, Hennessy’s Three Star Brandy was apples. Even Moet and Chandon’s champagne was known by a different name…peaches…, and gin was either salmon, mackerel or cod, depending on whether it was ordered in square or round bottles, or casks.

But all these folks were dealing outside the law, so in addition to keeping out of reach of law enforcement, they also faced dangers and death from others dealing in their same trade. These were the hijackers, those who made their living by stealing from the bootleggers.

One of the more famous stories of the era was the Saturday night that ended in murder right in the heart of Atlantic Highlands. Apparently, according to a newspaper report from the day, hijacker Frank LeConte of Newark, regarded as the supreme leader in hijacking circles, had a row with Robert Schneider, a good old Highlands fellow successful in the running trade.

Seems that a while back, LeConte’s men interrupted what was going to be a successful delivery of goods by Schneider’s men some months before, and now there was a score to settle. So when Schneider spotted LeConte in Highlands this particular Saturday night, his men, led by Walter Keener and two sets of brothers in the business, George and Henry Nettinger and Ed and Ralph Bitter, pursued the hijacker out of town. LeConte went as far as Center Avenue in Atlantic Highlands, but couldn’t escape.

As fate would have it, there was a train halted in the station, blocking the road. So everyone barreled out of their vehicles and a gun battle ensured. It’s said LeConte was the first to be hit, and was downed with a bullet in his stomach. Ralph Bitters took a shot to the shoulder, but it didn’t stop him from carrying on the battle. And when it was all over, LeConte and at least six others were treated for wounds at the hospital in Long Branch, and a whole lot of them were charged with various crimes.

LeConte didn’t make it, and died at the hospital two days later.

When it came down to the law settling the difference, the brothers Bitters were charged with LeConte’s murder. However, it didn’t appear there were any witnesses, at least any witnesses willing to tell the story of what happened that Saturday night on Center Avenue, and there wasn’t a Grand Jury around calling for an indictment.

The brothers could return to plying their trade in Highlands.

Highlands can always take pride in the men and women from this community who have always answered the call to the military when needed. One of several families within the borough who have given more than one offspring to serve the nation in the armed forces is the Kavookjian family, long respected for the kindness, thoughtfulness and generosity of the patriarch of the family, Haik Kavookjian. Two of his sons, Haik, Jr. and Sarkis served during World War II.

Sarkis, who was a T-Sgt. in the Army Air Force, served in the Pacific theater during World War II and completed forty-eight missions as first engineer on a Liberator.

Haik, Jr. served with the US Navy where he was a pharmacist mate first class and also sailed in the Pacific theater.

T.Sgt. Kavookjian earned the Pacific Campaign ribbon with a Silver Star for his service, together with the Presidential Citation, Air Medal with Silver Star and the Order of the Purple Heart. He was injured in combat while parachuting after the loss of the bomber in which he was the first engineer. His return to Highlands for a 21 day visit came after 22 months in the war zone, after which he reported to Atlantic City for yet another war assignment.

Haik, Jr., completed boot camp basic training, in Newport, R.I. before receiving assignments in Virginia, Panama, San Diego and Washington, D.C. He was studying medicine at the University of Buffalo at the time of his enlistment in the Navy, and had also been a student at Columbia University and a graduate of Alfred University.

The Kavookjian family lived on Portland Rd.

Tinker at Woodstock on the bed of his fabled truck

It’s probably his diversity that is most significant about Carl Tinker West. Without that, he would not have made a name for himself in the music world, in the sound and sight world, in the science world, in the surfing world, across the globe, or in Highlands itself.

Tinker… the quick-minded, brilliant, individualistic Californian who came east and established the internationally known Challenger East surfboard building company, making the unique and highly coveted boards in his well-recognized purple factory on Bay Avenue, a purple building painted after the code enforcement officer issued a summons and a warning to clean up his property.

“So I went out to Walmart, bought five gallons of paint and a spray brush, and I painted the building in a day,” he recalls. He never bothered to explain that his purple paint and the Nightmare before Christmas statue he topped the building with were his way of remaining independent while still obeying the edict to paint his building and adhere to borough regulations.

The stories about Tinker and Bruce Springsteen are legendary yet true. The former government scientist who knew firsthand about spaceships and rockets at March Air Force Base in California was also a wizard at sound production, and was manager for Vini Lopez and his band Steel Mill, the forerunner of the E Street Band where Springsteen was a singer. He recalls Bruce was “smart, quiet, and could write songs.” So Tinker and Vini and his gang made a deal… they could make surfboards in his Highlands shop, write, rehearse and rock and roll. He would continue to repair his cars on the other side of the garage.

Tinker also had New York friends in the business, and through introductions to them helped Bruce launch a career.

As for the rockets and spaceships, Tinker goes into scientific mode with explanations of how, why, where and what actually exists but ends simply with “there’s a lot more out there than anybody knows about. Who are we to think we’re the center of the universe?”

It was in the 1960s that Tinker, for whatever reasons or whims, decided to put his scientific connections with the government on a back burner and turn to learning more about other things in which he was interested.

That his love of music that Tinker brought to the Jersey shore can’t be denied. Summers, he gathered friends and musicians and would-be musicians to Long Branch to offer free concerts on the beach. He established the Highlands Music and Arts Fair in Highlands in 1972 (I think this was at Huddy Park. A band that Jackie France and Charlie Rugg had called Grand Canyon Band played at it), a format that had been so popular at Woodstock and beyond. He provided his talents, his sound and lighting equipment and ability, and his love for keeping people happy to create a brighter spot in the world for many.

Tinker never forgets his friends, another attribute of a man who just as easily enjoys his own solitude, his own warm workshop and factory in that purple building heated by his home-made log-fired stove, complete with temperature controls, oven and miniature range top for making coffee. As an octogenarian, he never forgets friends along the way, some he’s known for a short while, others for a lifetime. He recalls it was Phil Giarmita of the former Alpine Manor that introduced him to Highlands, Atlantic Highlands attorney Pete Locascio who was “a good guy, a square shooter,” and Nina Flannery, the former Highlands borough clerk and administrator who is really “a sharp woman, a good woman.” He remembers Haik Mendes, the Highlands man who owned the Cove in Sea Bright where Tinker docked the sailboat he had bought and repaired in Maine and sailed to Highlands and the Cove.

Their names are intermingled with the famous names, the scientists in California, the friends in the Black House…”you call it the White House,” he chuckles… the historians, the artists.

A non-political figure who is always aware of the latest happening in the country and the world, Tinker will tell you in his own colorful language there are “Republicrats and Democrans. ” He just wants to get things done. But he’s eager to report he’s anti-liberal.

He scoffs at the news stories and arguments in the papers in the 1970s when the builders of Top of the East in Highlands wanted to build twin towers. The one in Highlands was approved months later, the proposed adjacent apartment complex just across the borough line Atlantic Highlands rejected, on the site that is now a Monmouth County Park. “They said there was a fault in that hill underneath,” he recalls, adding, “of course there is, they’re all over. But didn’t they even know that those faults are over rock? That hill is solid.” And as proof, he adds, “there isn’t a single crack in that building up there. It hasn’t moved an inch. And it will still be standing long after you and me.”

Tinker is critical of an educational system that doesn’t teach history…”we’re the only brand of two-footed animal who doesn’t read our own history,” he’ll scoff, “how do you learn if you don’t know what you’ve done before?” But he loves laughter, another attribute he said, that is reserved for monkeys, mankind and hyenas. “It’s good for you,” he adds, with a broad grin.

Tinker has some strong views on women, views dating back to his childhood that are part of his history. He likes them, for sure, but he wouldn’t trust them.

Tinker shares his factory space and heated office in the same building with one of the antique vehicles he’s been working on for decades, if only because he loves to tinker with machines. He is quick to liken the human body to an automobile… the eyes are the headlights, the heart, the engine that pumps the fluid through the body, the rectum, the exhaust. It all simply makes sense, he says quietly with a shrug of his shoulders.

So many people reacted with their own great memories of the Stone Bridge and those years when they were young and the bridge held special memories. That was all in response to Dick Stryker’s memories from his youth and sledding down Mount Ave.. According to Thomas Leonard in his “From Indian Trail to Electric Rail,” here is the story of the formal dedication and the names of those involved in having the Stone Bridge become a reality, thanks to the borough of Atlantic Highlands and “public spirited citizens.” It took place in 1896.

“On Saturday afternoon, according to announcement, the town and township officials and a goodly company of private citizens assembled at the new Grand Avenue Bridge to witness ceremonies attending tis formal opening to the public and acceptance by the borough. A speakers platform and seats for invited guests were prepared at the bridge.

Exercises opened with “America” sung by all under the leadership of Professor W.W. Bentley. Reverend J.B. Haines offered the prayer of the occasion, followed by music by the Casino Orchestra.

George F. Lawrie, whose energy, liberality and enterprise have been the foundation of the undertaking, made a speech recounting the history of the bridge up to its completion. His complimented the town on expending $245,000 on public improvements within a few years and pointed out the opportunity for further expenditures for good roads. The bridge at which they were met was not the least of these public improvements and had cost the borough but $800, private generosity furnishing most of the money used in its construction. The structure spoke for the work of the builders and would do so for centuries perhaps. Mr. Nimrod Woodward, the well-known contractor, received eulogistic notice from Mr. Lawrie.

The speakers asked permission of the Mayor and Council to name the structure “Oonuehkoi” commutative of an Indian tribe once dwelling here.

Mr. Lawrie was frequently applauded and at the close of his address Mayor Jacob T. Stout accepted the bridge on behalf of the town. Mr. John E. Foster, borough solicitor, made a forcible and witty speech in which he remarked the enterprise, courage and perseverance of Mr. Lawrie in conceiving the bridge idea and then consummating it in the substantial and beautiful structure now open to the public. The approach to Observatory Park should never more be termed “break neck hill.”

Mr. Charles E. Crowell, whose property adjoins the bridge on the west, as does Mr. Lawrie on the east, spoke of the bridge as a landmark of progress for the town. Neither Europe nor the United States contained a bridge more beautiful of its size and cost. It is a gem which will adorn Atlantic Highlands forever; of inestimable value to advertise the town. Once known it must become a point of interest for tourists and pilgrimages.

Mr. Hanford Crawford eulogized bridges as a means of unit and neighborliness and Oonuehkoi as the ideal bridge for the purpose. He spoke also forcibly for ideal roads to match ideal bridges. He advocated a movement to make streets correspond with this structure by an outlay of $1 per front foot for the improvement. Applause greeted all the speakers.

Dr. E. C Curtis, who has been closely identified with the east side of Atlantic Highlands as President of the Atlantic Highlands Association, was also invited to speak. He reviewed the development of the east side of town and expressed belief that a small deficit between costs and subscriptions for Oonuehkoi should be made up so as to no further tax the measureless generosity of Mr. Lawrie.

Mr. A. B. Bollor of Observatory Park spoke flatteringly of the bridge as a work of engineering and dubbed Mr. Lawrie the Supreme Bridge Builder of Atlantic Highlands. Mr. Bollor is prominent in engineering circles and his judgment therefore is of practical as well as of rhetorical value.

After the exercises, Mr. George F. Lawrie entertained a number of the guests present at the Casino.”

Leonardo wrote his Indian Trail in the vernacular and style of the day, going into great detail with eloquence, if not always accuracy. The book goes on to tell the history of the bridge from the time it was thought about back in 1868 But that’s a story for another day.

The word Clock actually comes from the Latin work for bell…clocca…so it is no surprise that so many towers and steeples in churches, municipal buildings, government offices of all kinds have clocks, ticking off the minutes and hours and tolling the importance of certain occasions.

And bells, the simple sound of one piece of metal against another, is probably the oldest form of a sound getting attention to make an event known to man.

In churches around the world, clocks tolled the great news of wars ending, gathered the congregation into prayer at times of danger, mourned with the masses at times of death, and celebrated the joyous events of weddings, special anniversaries, and historic events.

The bells at Notre-Dame Cathedral have been used to peal out important times in history; indeed, it has been documented that even before Notre Dame was completed, its bells tolled to mark the time of the beginning of a mass as early as the 1100s.

Today, Notre-Dame Cathedral has ten bells, and the oldest and heaviest is known as a “bourdon” and is more than 600 years old, dating to the 15th century. It was recast 100 years or so after first cast, and was known as the most beautiful bell in all of Europe.

King Louis XIV even named it, calling it the Emmanuel Bell. The bell was so important to French history, and so important to the Church, that even during the French Revolution, it was undisturbed. Every other bell at Notre Dame was broken and melted into ammunition during the Revolution, but not Emmanuel, which was removed for safe keeping. All the destroyed bells were ordered replaced by Napoleon in the beginning of the 19th century, and installed in various locations around the Cathedral, the North and South Towers, the spire and the roof. Some of these were replaced once again, some as recent as the 21st century, because of their inferior quality.

Today, there are ten bells at Notre Dame, two in the South, and eight in the North Tower. Each has its own name, all named for Saints who have had a direct impact on the French church and congregations.

Emmanuel is still the grand bell of the South Tower, weighing in at about 13 tons, and rung not only for the notable events within the Cathedral, but for the historical events that have formed Francy. Tuned to F sharp, it has tolled for the coronation of French Kings and visits of a pope, it has mourned two world wars as well as the funerals of French heads of state. And it tolled for New York’s Twin Towers on Sept. 11.

Emmanuel is joined by Marie, the bell named to honor the patroness of Notre Dame, or Our Lady, the Mother of God.

In the North Tower, Gabriel honors the archangel and is the largest Bell of that tower. There are also Anne-Geneviève, in memory of Saint Anne, mother of Mary and Geneviève, the patron saint of Paris. They are joined by Denis, first bishop of Paris, Marcel, the ninth bishop of Paris in the 5th century, Étienne, honoring the old cathedral church of Paris placed under the protection of Saint Stephen, Benedict-Joseph to honor Pope Benedict XVI, pope at the time of the bell consecration in 2013, during the 850th anniversary of Notre-Dame de Paris cathedral, Maurice, in memory of the bishop of Paris who laid the first stone of the cathedral in 1163, and Jean-Marie, for Cardinal Jean Marie Lustiger, 139th Archbishop of Paris, from 1981 to 2005.

Saint Patrick’s Cathedral I New York has 19 bells, all with their own story to tell. But that’s another story altogether.

Joe Bolger, 1939-First Row Center with Ball

For those who were around the Bayshore in the late 1960s to the early 1980s, Joe Bolger was best known as the first Superintendent of Schools for the Keansburg school system. For those around for most of the 1960s Joe Bolger was best known as principal of the Highlands Elementary School. And for those back in the 1950s, Joe Bolger was best known as a teacher, coach and athletic director at Red Bank Catholic High School.

But the long time Highlands resident made headlines for himself long before his professional career took center stage. He was president of his eighth grade graduation class in elementary school and was best known as Arnie Truex’s Middletown winning baseball team captain during his high school years at Leonardo High School.

Joe Bolger was a high school athlete who made All-State’s second team as a pitcher, and was known as Jolting Joe in high school football when he led Middletown’s team to its first unbeaten season as team captain.

There was the time, back in 1938, when Joe had an injury and sports fans anguished over whether he would be able to play. It was Marc Krohn, the Middletown physician who ruled that yes indeed, Bolger’s injury would not keep him off the field. The young feisty athlete went on to score three touchdowns, making him the leading scholastic scorer in New Jersey.

After high school, Joe went on to serve in the Army during World War II with the Army’s 98th division, earn bachelor’s and master’s degrees from Seton Hall University, and a doctorate degree from East Coast University. He also taught at Long Branch high School before coming back to the town where he was raised to serve as principal at the Highlands school.

Bolger also engaged in Highlands politics for several years, and was one of the few elected officials to serve under both forms of government, bi-partisan in 1956, then for another three years beginning in 1959 after the Borough switched to a non-partisan form of government.

In his years on council, he always served with Mayor Neil Guiney, the only mayor to have served under both government forms. But others on council with Bolger also are names that have gone down in local history, Alexander Bahrs, Matt Horan, John Newton, Bob Diebold, Duke Black and Sonny Vaughan.

Joe and Jean, the former Jane Rich, raised their three sons and two daughters in their home on Chestnut St. next to where Joe himself had grown up.

It will be 30 years this February 6, since Joe Bolger, who had retired nine years before, died at home. He left a legacy not only as a scholar, an athlete, an educator, a coach in several sports, a veteran and active member of Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church, but also as a referee for several Football Leagues and the Leonardo Field Club for both high school and professional teams in football, basketball and baseball.

Hundreds went into the Applebrook office to see what the new building would look like; there was a scale model showing 160-units, another of a two-bedroom unit complete with two baths, a dressing room, kitchen, laundry and utility room. Even built-in appliances. All of that, Lefferts said, in addition to the “unbelievable panoramic view from every apartment” together with luxury amenities like oversized rooms, uniformed doormen, TV security systems, and at the very top, close as the nearest elevator, “the Top of the East Club,” the magnificent party room open to all.

It was all gold and glamor as daily and weekly newspapers reported about the last day of October 50 years ago when ground was broken for the highly touted and much publicized Top of the East, the first of its kind 14-story luxury condominium complex set to be constructed on the top of the hill adjacent to Atlantic Highlands. It was also announced that the looming tower, forever changing the skyline of Highlands, might well be accompanied by a sister complex right on the adjoining property, the last property in Atlantic Highlands. Those plans had not yet been completed or heard by that borough’s boards and the future would tell the stories of how Atlantic Highlands said thanks but no thanks to the residential tower. That tract is now the Monmouth County owned Mount Mitchill County Park.

But Oct. 31, 1972 was a big day for Highlands, as King Westerlind, the quieter and lesser known of the duo building the complex, and his partner, the well known and highly visible and verbal James R Snyder, joined with Highlands Mayor James T. White, financiers General Electric Credit Corporations, and movie actress and blond beauty Monique Van Vooren to wield golden shovels turning over the first clumps of dirt that would make room for the foundation of Top of the East.

It was Jacob R.V.M. Lefferts the third, president of the Applebrook Real Estate Agency, who announced the groundbreaking; Applebrook was the exclusive sales agent for the plush condominiums which would be sold at the time for a starting price of $38, 500.

No announcement was necessary; there were hundreds who went to the top of the hill next to Shadow Lawn Trailer Park, and crowded the road in front of the old Cabin in the Sky building which once spread across the very land in two towns that was now going to be at least one luxurious condominium complex; the building was now the official real estate officer for Mr. Leffert’s Agency. He told the crowd that “Snyder and Westerlind were building the complex and establishing a standard of luxury building necessary “to meet the desires and needs of the luxury-seeker their researchers have found to be most important.”

Hundreds went into the Applebrook office to see what the new building would look like; there was a scale model showing 160-units, another of a two-bedroom unit complete with two baths, a dressing room, kitchen, laundry and utility room. Even built-in appliances. All of that, Lefferts said, in addition to the “unbelievable panoramic view from every apartment” together with luxury amenities like oversized rooms, uniformed doormen, tv security systems, and at the very top, close as the nearest elevator, “the Top of the East Club,” the magnificent party room open to all.

The condominium concept, while not new in the area, was different in the high rise complex. Each apartment was owned by the individual, complete with deed to that specific property with tax and equity advantages like any private land owner. But those benefits came without the hassle of maintaining building and grounds, things that would be taken care of by professionals for a monthly fee from each of the property owners. The building is fireproof, of course, and the lobby is linked to each unit by an intercom system. A 24-hour closed circuit TV and a doorman would provide all the security for the new owners.

With Direct Line, later known as Sea Streak, a commuter service of the future., the owners. Builders and realtors promoted the proximity of the luxury condominiums to the Garden State Parkway which offered an hour trip to Manhattan. Of the option of the Railroad, only seven miles away. Shopping centers were close, and history, performing arts, and even the Garden State Arts Center were all within easy reach by car. To say nothing of the magnificent beaches, as well as the complex’s own recreational facilities, which include an Olympic size swimming pool, sundeck, cabanas and tennis courts. For an added fee, owners could also take advantage of a health club on site, complete with saunas, baths, massage specialists and exercise rooms.

And to think that for months before, newspapers and experts said the entire hill contained a fault and warned that indeed the hill was falling, the building would make it occur sooner, and at some time there would be no hill to house a Top of the East.

It’s hard to tell sometimes what makes the news, and how much research goes into the accuracy of stories. Or how imagination can make the news.

There was the time in 1905 when the newspapers reported on a Highlands Murder Mystery. The subhead explained that a pedestrian had found a grave in the words .

The story went like this.

A horse owned by B. Maxson, a Highlands liveryman, got loose in the stable one night and in trying to get out, got stuck in a narrow doorway. The horse, in trying to free itself, was so severely injured he had to be put down. The horse was then led into the woods nearby, shot, and buried where it fell.

The blood on the ground and the fresh mound of earth was the cause of considerable excitement by anyone walking through the woods.

Around 3 a.m the day after the horse was shot, several people living on Miller and Fourth streets were awakened from slumber by strange noises which sounded like a series of screams as though someone was in distress.

A.G. Johnson heard the screams and he hastily dressed and went all over the town but found nothing unusual.

The next day, a man from town walking through the woods saw the fresh mound of earth and blood and imagined at once that murder had been done. He told of his find and it was at once concluded that when the grave was opened a murder would explain the cause of the cry heard the night before.

Several men armed with shovels started at once for the grave and began to remove the earth. Before they had removed much, William Heath heard of the digging party and went to the woods, had a good laugh on the party and told the story of the horse.

There was no further investigation and no reports or information on who had been screaming the night previous, nor what had caused the screaming.