If you lived in Highlands in the 1970s, 80s and beyond, then you knew Bob Higgins. If you lived on the hill in Highlands in those decades, then you knew Bob as the runner, often with his daughters, around the streets, keeping fit and healthy whether he was a fireman on the job in New York, later a court officer in Monmouth County, or just a dad enjoying the company of his wife, Irene, and kids. Bob was the kind of guy who made you feel good just for knowing him.

But there was one incident back in 1980 when this everyday hero scored one for the common man with the Motor Vehicle Agency. Granted the Motor Vehicle at that time was a lot less courteous and helpful then than they are today. But a fighting fireman like Bob, a loving and caring father like Bob, wasn’t letting that agency of that time get away with anything.

In true Bob Higgins character, he did not want his name known at the time, but wanted his story to show that things can be done and can be done right if public servants are challenged.

When I wrote the story for the Courier in May, 1980, he was simply Joe Marathon. Bob Higgins, hero to his family friend to all, died Dec. 11, 2017. Here’s The Courier story from 1980.

A modern day David took on the mighty Goliath of the state Motor Vehicle Agency on Route 36 last month, and struck a blow in favor of all who have ever waited in long lines there, have been treated to the surly dispositions of some employees or gotten a taste of how little the employees care about the value of some one else’s time. For his trouble, he was arrested and hauled into court. Another blow for justice was struck in the court room. He was found innocent of the charge against him. For the sake of anonymity, let’s call him Joe Marathon.

Joe Marathon is a normally mild-mannered, good looking, hardworking family man. He’s a big city firefighter by profession and has been recognized for valor and cool professionalism on the job. He’s an avid promoter of all local involvements for his kids, and is active in Little League, Pop Warner, Booster clubs and school PTAs. Joe Marathon is the kind of guy you’re happy to have as a neighbor.

If was for one of his kids that Joe Marathon was at the inspection agency a few weeks ago. One of his daughters had taken her driving test, and in order to save time and mileage on another trip, he planned on getting the necessary applications for a moped license for his 15-year old daughter. In the maze of applications over the years for various civic and athletic memberships, Joe had inadvertently lost her birth certificate and came to the inspection station with a baptismal certificate from his parish church which clearly showed the daughter was well over 15 years of age.

Joe had read the manual for moped users closely and figured that where it said proof of age could be “birth certificates.” a baptismal certificate would qualify under “etc.” But to be absolutely certain, he asked one of the female clerks in the officer before he got into the long line. Yes, she said, it would be OK. So Joe got in line and waited an hour and a half. He got the necessary moped application.

But then Joe went into the exam room armed with his application and baptismal certificate and was told by the clerk there it wouldn’t do. Birth was needed, not baptismal, she said.

Now Joe had already waited 90 minutes, he had had already been assured he had a qualifying paper, he wasn’t going to take no easily. He explained all this to the clerk, said it wasn’t right he would be given two different stories, and left, his blood pressure up just a wee little bit.

Joe re-entered about five minutes later and at the clerk’s suggestion, was referred to “someone higher in authority. “ He then went inside the waist high “door control” and met an armed Highway Patrol Officer seated at another desk. Joe waited while the officer finished his business with a person there, then approached the armed officer and asked why a baptismal certificate wouldn’t be acceptable as proof of age. In his testimony in court later, Joe said, “I couldn’t get any reasonable explanation of why it wouldn’t do, or what “etc.” meant,” He then added the immortal words expressed by thousands who have done business there, “It just seems that no one cares if you wait one or two hours.”

The officers wasn’t helpful, declined to explain what ‘etc.,” meant and Joe left again.

But Joe’s daughters were with him. They wondered why their father couldn’t get a reasonable explanation, they wondered why the manual said one thing and their dad couldn’t be helped. And Joe was determined he’d have the proper answers for his daughters.

So he went back into the inspection station, this time armed with the manual and written proof of “birth certificate, etc.” He again waited at the “door control” and was admitted. Seeing the same officer he showed him the book, again asking for an explanation. The officer took the book from his hand, and underlined the words, “birth Certificate,” and told him quite pointedly that that’s all that would be accepted.

Maybe it was because Joe has always been able to provide answers for his daughters. Maybe it was because of his stint in the Marine Corps when honor, dignity and perseverance were drilled into him. Maybe it was because he knew from daily experiences that that one last determined try is often what squelches that stubborn blaze. Whatever the reason, something in Joe Marathon said he had to have an answer before he left. So Joe asked the officer to see someone else, someone still higher in authority.

By his testimony court, the officer said Joe was instructed to sit in a specific seat by the window. The officer explained he selected that particular seat because “otherwise we could forget him; I think that’s poor business.”

Joe sat, but he dared to call out, “Do I have to wait another one and a half hours to get an answer?” The officer gave him three choices, “sit and wait, leave, or be arrested.” And Joe’s response according to the officer’s testimony, “or what?”

In municipal court the highway Patrol Officers told Judge Avin V. Klatsky that the mild mannered fire fighter was “defiant…irritating …and possibly threatening.’ The armed officer conceded, however, that Joe was “not abusive, ..was cooperative.”

But he grabbed Joe’s arm and led him out of the office and took him to police headquarters where he signed a complaint against him for “disturbing the normal order of business,.” According to court records. Joe was directed to appear in court one Thursday morning at 9 a.m.

And Joe was there, 15 minutes ahead of time, nattily attired, carefully prepared and nervous. It was his first experience with the criminal court. The Judge arrived on the bench at 9:30, a mild-mannered soft spoken and genial man. He explained the court’s proceedings; first guilty pleas would be heard, then matters involving attorneys “to free them for appearances in other courts..” then finally all other contested matters. That’s where Joe’s case came.

At 10:05, Judge Klatsky called Joe’s case, and asked him his plea. As he had advised the court clerk days earlier, Joe said he was pleading not guilty. The Judge then directed the Officer involved be summoned from the motor vehicle agency.

When the officer arrived, still in uniform and still wearing his gun in a holster, the court was in the midst of another proceeding involving attorneys who had come in late. It wasn’t until 12:08 that Joe Marathon’s case finally was called to be heard, after Joe had been sitting more than three hours in the court room.

The officer testified, responding to questions from the prosecutor. He related many of the details of the incident and explained he felt Joe had disrupted business by bursting through the “door control.” He said Joe sat in a wrong chair from the one he was directed. He said Joe got louder and talked in too loud a voice. He said he felt threatened by the family man.

When Joe told his side of the story, he explained he still did not get an answer as to what “etc.” meant. The judge courteously explained that wasn’t within the province of the court. The prosecutor asked that Joe Marathon be found guilty and said his actions were “understandable but not excusable.”

The Judge didn’t agree. He opined that perhaps Joe’s action caused “an inconvenience” and could have created a “physically dangerous situation.” But, the judge said, he had some doubts, and while unfortunately there are “some times we you have to wait,” he ruled Joe Marathon was not guilty of any wrongdoing.

Yet it didn’t quite end there. The officer asked to see Joe Marathon in the hall after court was adjourned. He told Joe he was “glad you were found not guilty,” and said, “we’ve got stuff to put up with all day long. I didn’t have time that day” to make the necessary explanations.

Joe had spent a total of six hours about two at the motor vehicle station, another four in the court room. He still had not received am answer from the agency on what “etc.” means. But he spoke up for every motorist in the area and was hauled into court for expressing what anybody who has waited in lines in Eatontown has said privately. “nobody seems to care how long you wait or how you’re treated.”.

Any of the old-timers in and around Atlantic Highlands will tell you of the ‘good old days,’ the amusement park at the river beach, the milkman who delivered milk to your door, the schools and churches that were an integral part of everyone’s life. But among her collection of things from the past that still keep Helen Marchetti so proud and happy she’s a native of the borough, is a treasured little gray book that was offered to newcomers, be they settlers or vacationers. The book listed close to 200 businesses and business people, if you include all the notary publics, nurses, and well diggers that made their living here.

It was the era of the Roarin’ 1920s, and John R. Snedecker was in the second year of his second term as Mayor, up again for a third term in November, and the little booklet bragged that the tax rate here “is one of the lowest in Monmouth County and compares favorably with any municipality in the State..”

Most of the description then could be repeated now…..”the joy of a country home coupled with city conveniences…the joy of a garden….” , with the added promise “we can guarantee the fertile soil if you will make your own garden.” Class A weather, but then, the brochure proclaimed, “how could it be otherwise in a town so ideally located…hills and valleys touching hands, providing scenes of the Atlantic Ocean…from our Ocean Blvd on clear days, one may easily distinguish the sky-scrapers of Manhattan and also obtain a splendid view of Fort Hancock..one of our Coast Defenses.”

But it’s the Classified Directory that especially recalls famous local names, former and current businesses, and a genuinely great community. Five different amusements are included…the amusement park on Avenue A…the phone number was 497.. the Atlantic Theater on First Avenue, the Billiard Parlor at First and Highland avenues, the indoor golf course on First Avenue, and the Tennis Club on Bayview.

There was only one architect in town, L. Jerome Aimar at the corner of Memorial Drive and East Avenue, and one engineer, H.O. Todd on Memorial Drive. But there were seven builders and contractors, including Carhart Construction, D.A. Caruso, John Grary, B.G. Martin, W.B Mount, J.E. Stone, and C.A Wright. There was even a sawmill operated by William Irwin on W. Garfield ave. And to complete the building, there were four painting contractors, and two electricians.

There were four doctors and one dentist, physicians Fred Bullwinkel, A. Rosenthal, John VanMater, and Walter White, and Thomas McVey, whose dental office was at 95 First Avenue. And there were 11 women listed as either registered or practical nurses, familiar names today, like Miss Edna Dender, Mable Mount, Florence or Dorothy Gaffey, and Lottie Loux. Antonides and Shannons were drug stores practically across the street from each other on First Avenue, and Bridle and Latham in Navesink and Romeo Brothers on First Avenue were the two florists available.

Mack Davis, Tom Kelly and George Keyes provided all the ice needed for the four hotels and so many others in town, and the Red Bank Stem Dye Works at 77 First Avenue took care of all the dyeing and cleaning business.

There were four separate law offices before some of the attorney merged later, like John Pillsbury with Snyder and Roberts, all in the same building at 97 First Avenue, with John Sweeney a few doors down, and Edgar Cook practicing on Asbury Avenue.

There was no shortage of places to buy quality meats, groceries, or candy and ice cream. At least four stores had ice cream parlors, Stryker’s Market at First and Center, Wagner’s on First, Jagger’s and Blom markets, both also on First, pride themselves on the quality of their meat, fish and provisions. Some of the other general markets included American Stores, James Butler, Brookes & Company, W.V. Crawford, Economy Stores, William Nachamks, West End and White’s groceries made grocery shopping close to home easy and competitive.

It was interesting to see that 13 residents, some of them attorneys or bankers, some businessmen in other fields, were listed as notary publics, another six were plumbers, with one, Walter Williams on Bay View Avenue, also noting he was a tinsmith as well.

There was only one milliner, or hat shop, in town, that of Miss Bertha A. Briggs who sold the fashionable wear at her shop at 96 First Avenue,. The one newspaper, the Atlantic Highlands Journal, was also the only printer in town, and one window cleaner, Arnold Varrar was the only one listed in that business. The A.M. and Sons Posten’s Funeral home was at 25 First Avenue at this time, and Jake Heifetz had the only five and ten cent store, conducting his business at the shop on the corner of First and Mount avenues.

In addition to the Bay View, Hollywood, Lenox and Mandalay Inn hotels, another dozen property owners offered rooms and board, with Mrs. Laura Litchfield advertising that her home at 24 Fourth Avenue particularly offered a “homeplace place for vacationists.”

The businesses were varied enough to include not only five automobile dealers but an automobile painter as well, two bakeries, one bank, four barbers and two beauty parlors, two coal wood and feed stores, two electricians, an employment agency, three garages and three hardware stores, nine insurance agencies, two jewelers and two laundries, and a machinist. There were also two places, Hopping McHenry and Frost as well as Atlantic Mason Supply where you could purchase millwork and mason supplies, and four stores, including United Cigar owned by William Leff that sold newspapers and novelties. There were four tailors, two radio shops, four real estate agents, three restaurants, including the Log Cabin at the top of Ocean Blvd., two tree surgeons and two photographers.

The Atlantic Highlands High School combined with the elementary school classes with instruction “conducted in a manner to ensure a high class education for any and every pupil receiving its instruction.”

The brochure concluded by promising “Atlantic Highlands has every feature that makes living really worthwhile…beautiful scenery, perfect climate, abundant transportation, efficient utilities, picturesque homes, well-kept streets, shade trees under the care of the Shade Tree Commission, plentiful amusements, well tried religious and educational facilities..all of which are the desirable and necessary contributories to a happy American’s home. And so we say ‘come and see for yourself the community that we are…’ “

That was 20th century. It’s still true in the 21st. See for yourself!

The Highlands Historical Society did what it does best last night. It gave the opportunity for everybody to get on a zoom call and tell their own memories of Highlands and how living here, summering here, working here, or bringing up families here has impacted their own life.

It was an opportunity for out of state former residents to see each other on the screen, if not in person. For some, it was 30 or more years since they’ve seen former friends or adversaries, and it was an opportunity to share common, happy memories. There may have been disagreements over politics or municipal procedures in the past, but gathering together to recall the Highlands in which they lived, none of those things is remembered. Just the good times. And the good people.

It was an opportunity for everyone on the call to see once again what makes Highlands so special, and the conversations, laughter and recalled memories over nearly two hours showed exactly what does make Highlands so special. It isn’t Conners Hotel that is really special…it’s Duke, and Jackie, and Bobby and Bill, the Brothers Black, that those on the ZOOM meeting remembered…how Bill made the best prime rib and most spectacular lobster, how Jack fed dinner to everyone who waited or bussed at the hotel before their work evening started.

It wasn’t Bahrs Restaurant that made Highlands special, nor the fact it is the oldest still operating business in the borough. It was Buddy and Peg Bahrs, Ray Cosgrove, and all the members of the Bahrs family that made the restaurant so memorable. The same with the Stowaway and Sonny and Evelyn Vaughn welcoming guests to that wonderful dining room and superb dinners, or the Bremekamps at the Careless Navigator who out out the best hamburger or shrimp sandwich ever.

It was the opportunity for Vince Mendes, from his home in the south, to remind listeners just how much his granddad, Haik Kavookjian did for the town and for some on the meeting to learn more about the very generous, wealthy man who never wanted any limelight but always wanted to help. Vince’s story on his granddad’s ploys that got a post office to the borough was great.

It was great fun to hear Bill Wilson talk about what he went through to get that clam depuration plant a reality and to hear his pride in being a part of Highlands. Bill’s got plenty more stories to tell and hopefully will be on future ZOOM meetings to share some of them…even the ones that are rarely repeated in public!

So that’s what history is all about. Not so much the buildings or the architecture, not so much about the good and the bad, simply the people. The buildings are just the part of the story that generate the memories that keep Highlands above and beyond other communities. It’s the people.

Walt Guenther is a wealth of information about the borough and its people and places. His research is impeccable and fascinating. President Sheila Weinstock reminded everyone how successful Walt’s walking tour of the downtown area was, and excited everyone with her promise it’s going to be bigger and better in the future.

The president is offering more ZOOM sessions like this to give more folks both from here and now from so many other states the opportunity see faces they might never have seen again were it not for the technology that allows and encourages ZOOM meetings. If you’re interested, let the Highlands Historical Society know you like the idea, you’ve got stories to tell, you have memories you want to share. It’s a good idea to be a member of the Society to share these stories, but it’s not a requirement…though once you feel the enjoyment of sharing your own story you might want to become a member.

Highlands has its Sea Bright Bridge that every kid had to drop from into the swift moving Shrewsbury River as a rite of passage. That was before the Captain Azzolina was built with its high rails that prevents today’s youngsters from the thrill of the older days.

But Atlantic Highlands had its Oonuehkoi Bridge that is the delight in the memories of kids from the 19th century on.

Dick Stryker tells it best. The former mayor, the son, grandson and great grandson too far back to count, of natives of the borough, even before it was the borough, is a nonagenarian who fondly remembers all the fun, especially in winter, of the Stone Bridge on Grand Avenue.

It officially opened on Saturday afternoon in August of 1896 with great fanfare and lots of speeches. Named to honor an Indian tribe that once lived here, the new stone bridge was described as “a gem which will adorn Atlantic Highlands forever,” “a means of unity and neighborliness,” “a work of engineering,” and “a landmark of progress.” Speakers also said the road, in the past the scene of many an accident because of the sharp turn, would nevermore be known as “Breakneck Bridge.”

That’s what Thomas Leonard recalls in his famed “From Indian Trail to Electric Rail”

Dick Stryker’s memories are a lot more fun and a sign of just how much local kids loved that Stone Bridge.

Dick’s earliest memories are of his dad tell him about the horse drawn wagons that were damaged going over the bridge, to say nothing of all the bicycle accidents by cyclists tearing down the hill to town. But those warnings certainly did not deter Dick nor any of his friends from enjoying the bridge in their own way. Especially in winter.

“A perfect snowfall and a sheet of ice were perfect to start our ride from the top,” the former mayor recalls with a chuckle, “We could start our ride above the bridge and go without a stop on to Highland Avenue, then around 8th avenue, then left on Mount! All the way down!. “The streets were all ideal,” he continued, “ because snowplows of those days did not salt or put any chemicals down. They simply packed down all the snow and ice to make a really great sledding system.” A good coating of packed down snow on all the streets was all we needed to make great sledding on East Mount, Grand Avenue, and Hudson Avenue, especially. “

Cars did not present any problems either, he recalls, not only because where were fewer around when he was growing up, but also “the town blocked off the side streets on Mount so it was a safe ride down the hill.” A smile, a sigh, and then Dick added, quietly, “These were great times to be a youth in Atlantic Highlands.”

These were fun times for teenagers Kathy Smith, Maureen Black, and MIchelle Smith in 1972 when the three, all graduates of Our Lady of Perpetual Help School and all Highlands natives, tried out some of the recipes from “From the Hearths of Highlands,” the popular recipe book designed by the OLPH PTA as a fund raiser.

The book featured recipe book from their moms, Mary Sciortino, Jerry Ptak, Mary Dempsey, Joan Dempsey, Dorothy Kovic, teacher Joan Wicklund and many others. Both Kathy, who married Bob Palamara, and Maureen, the daughter of Duke and Edna Black have died; MIchelle, Kathy’s sister, lives in Basking Ridge.

The photos appeared in the Red Bank Daily Register, a popular daily newspaper of the 1970s.

Ronald Horan was a Highlands native, the son of Frank and Vi Horan, an attorney, and a municipal court judge for more than 20 years, serving not only his native Highlands as municipal judge, but surrounding towns as well, including Middletown, Hazlet, Keansburg and Sea Bright. He was known to be tough, fair and yet somehow also compassionate. More than once he was criticized perhaps because he cared too much for his home town, or knew too many of the stories behind the stories that brought people to court.

But he also ruled with a sense of humor.

There was the time in 1976 when a lady from Waterwitch Avenue was angered by a lady from Marine Place. Seems the Marine Place lady had struck the Waterwitch lady’s seven year old son earlier that day, and the Mom grew angrier and angrier when she thought about it. So she went over to the Marine Place home around dinner time, barged in the house where the homeowner was preparing port chops, and her brother was also visiting from Keansburg.

The Waterwitch lady berated the pork chop cooking lady for hitting her son. A feud erupted between the two women, the brother intervened, and lots of assault charges were signed against each other.

When the matter came before Judge Horan, everybody got to tell their stories of what happened and who was to blame, including testimony in municipal court from the seven year old. He admitted he did not go home right after the ‘assault’ but did tell his mom about it later.

The judge decided the feud was really between the two ladies, dismissed the charges between the one involving the visiting brother, and chided the ladies in open court. He pointed out nobody had called the Police during the altercations, everybody waiting until it was all over and then filing complaints. Then he told the ladies they were in Highlands, “this is not the Wild West and we don’t carry six guns. You can’t take the law into your own hands.”

So both ladies were found guilty of assault, each was fined $25 and assessed another $10 in court fees.

The judge wrapped up the proceedings with the notation …

“ Seems there was some pork grease spilled…the ladies will have to stew in their own juice.”

It really started over dogs running loose; then it escalated to people weren’t bringing in their garbage cans. Next it was vehicles speeding on Bay Avenue. It finally erupted into a proposed ordinance to do away with the Highlands Police Chief and replace him with a civilian leader.

Then there was one most serious note in the mix!

The Police Chief was ordering sub machine guns and carbines to combat the anticipated crowd on one of the most celebratory days in the Bayshore. OP SAIL 76!

Meet the antagonists. The one was soft spoken, a professional in the real estate field, serious except for a touch of Irish humor, a man highly respected by his peers, a leader who listened to his contemporaries, studied issues, then took the steps he felt were right.

The other, a former Marine, was brash, loud, quick to smile and make a joke, proud of his uniform, his badge, and his department. And not a man to be put down by anyone.

Both were born and raised in Highlands, both loved their own town, both rose to their positions through their own efforts and challenging work and both were proud of what they accomplished.

The soft-spoken one was the Mayor, Cornelius J. Guiney, Jr.

The brash one was the Chief of Police, Howard Brey.

Brey described the duo as “two headstrong men locking horns.”

The year was 1976.

It was in March that Guiney was tired of hearing all the complaints, more than 100 he said, from residents about loose dogs, garbage cans, general lack of police enforcement of local laws. So the Mayor called a special meeting to ask the Chief for his side.

Dogs were not his job, the chief said. That’s why there was a community dog control company hired.

Garbage cans weren’t his job either. Too many streets to patrol, not enough police officers. It’s the council’s fault for not hiring more than the nine officers currently on the force.

Ticketing illegally parked car wasn’t his job either, Brey told the council. There weren’t ordinances that prohibited parking in all the places the mayor complained about. So he simply didn’t issue any tickets for parking at all.

Then the Mayor asked the Chief, a 16 year veteran who was named chief ten months before, if it were true the Chief was ordering sub machine guns and carbines to supplement the police arsenal.

He asked if the chief wanted anti sub machine guns to counter the crowds anticipated to be in the Bayshore on July 4, when the Tall Ships would be celebrating OPSAIL ’76 along the coast and New York Harbor.

Not true, the chief countered. Questioned further, he said, “well maybe it was mentioned, just as a joke.”

But then Councilman John Rodgers got annoyed. “Didn’t you ever write an order for machine guns?” he asked. No, Brey said. Rodgers asked again, “are you sure?”

Well, OK Brey responded, while he didn’t “write” an order, he did “type” it in his report.

Rodgers pursued questioning as to the reason for machine guns for OpSail. “We need them for dissident groups,” the Chief responded.

And who are these dissident groups?” Rodgers, who was also a teacher at Henry Hudson Regional School asked. “Quite frankly,” said the Police Chief, “it’s none of your business.”

The feud went on for months, An ordinance was introduced to have a civilian leader and do away with the chief; a public hearing was held with more than 250 jamming into every nook and crevice of borough hall, and in the end, ultimate action was delayed, not once but twice. Things smoothed out quietly on their own.

Guiney continued to say the police weren’t doing their job, Brey continued to say he would run his department the way he wanted. By Memorial Day, Dave Gilson, head of the local PBA, said morale was so low the police would not march in the Memorial Day parade.

And they did not. The first time in the borough’s history.

Then on July 4, the Tall Ships came, the crowds came, they filled the borough restaurants and bars, they brought their binoculars, their cameras and their kids. OpSail was a momentous success and events went on uninterrupted, without fights, without submarine guns.

And life continued in Highlands with a soft spoken Mayor and a brash police chief learning to live, if not happily, at least civilly, with each other.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=03XSaXzGvEs

The Monmouth County Archives is just one of the great resources we residents of Monmouth County have at our fingertips and County Clerk Christine Hanlon does a superb job in ensuring it’s the highest quality she expects from all divisions under her office.

Bill Osborn is one of those highest quality employees who maintains those very high standards because he not only loves his work, and loves to share its value, but also has a fantastic memory for items in the archives and stories of today.

As a result of all that, and thanks to the Archives’ collection of spectacular photos from the Red Bank Register, here’s another photo to interest those who are reading about the start of Top of the East. This is the scale model on display 50 years ago showing the luxury built into that 14 story high rise directly on the top of the highest peak between Maine and Florida directly on the coast.

It was Saturday, Oct. 1, 1949, when more than 3,000 residents, sports fan, politicians including Governor Alfred E. Driscoll all gathered on West Highland Avenue in Atlantic Highlands to officially dedicate the fire department’s new memorial athletic field.

The Governor participated in the first play on the new field when he kicked off a football to start the Neptune-Atlantic Highlands match. The bad news is Neptune was victorious in the game, trouncing the local team 30-8.

However, the loss did not take the excitement away from the festivities of the day, with Congressman James C. Auchincloss praising the efforts of all who made the new field possible, and for the fire department’s dedication to the borough calling the volunteers the cornerstone of the community. Auchincloss said the volunteers efforts and dedication to the borough “do not stop at putting out fires.”

A silent tribute was paid to the late Dr. Thomas C. McVey, a former mayor instrumental in the department’s dedication of the field, and well as current Mayor Waldron P. Smith, who welcomed the crowd to the event.

It took four years of planning and volunteer work to create the field, which is dedicated to the men of the community who gave their lives during World War II.

Participating in the ceremonies were members of the Lions, Club, St. Agnes School, Croydon Hall Academy, girl and boy scout troops, as well as Sea Scouts and cub scouts.