Ah Vince, how we love you down the shore. And how you love the shore back! And we will miss you too, after you get sentenced, now scheduled for Tuesday. We loved trying to find your condo on the bay in Ventnor, and finding a parking space out front that said "Reserved for Senator." Who will park there now? How we loved all those conspiracy theories over the years that it was you, and your power, and your money that was behind the effort to stop the sand dunes from being built in Ventnor, and how awesome it was when testimony in your trial left little doubt that those conspiracy theories were true!!! Who will fight to get rid of those pesky sand dunes now? Actually, another awesome if less bullying power broker, the bobble-headed-into-immortality Pinky Kravitz is on that case, in Atlantic City. Then, just days before your sentencing, you propose to your girlfriend, Carolyn Zinni. Where? Down the Shore, of course. Of course, there is that awkward matter of you walking into Johnny's Cafe in Margate while the Inquirer's Craig Laban was there reviewing the place. Of all the gin joints, Vince... How awesome for Laban, who got to write that he saw you "strolling in for a meal of blackened scallops, crab cakes, and old-fashioned ricotta pie." Of course, then the prosecutors got to quote from that review, and cited it as evidence that your heart and other health problems should not be considered a mitigating factor in your sentencing. Bummer. "Judging by this menu, and as Fumo's medical records confirm, his heart disease is well in check," federal prosecutors John Pease and Robert Zauzmer wrote. Oh well. Probably should have skipped the ricotta pie. In any case, your photo has not yet been posted on the "Star Sightings" page of the Johnny's Cafe website, above, but we'll be monitoring it for an update. Hope to see you down here again soon.

With that kind of weekend, can you blame me for completely forgetting I had jury duty today? Luckily, I've lived in Atlantic County long enough that there were people in the jury pool who know me, heard my name when they called it, had an inkling I may have spaced on this, and were able to summon me on the blackberry. And, luckily, I had already finished my breakfast at Annette's with my brother, so nothing interrupted there, and was able to get over to the courthouse in time to put my time in and get excused for various reasons, not least of which being that I've lived in Atlantic County long enough so that the odds that I know a plaintiff or two are startlingly high. A beach day of some sort was salvaged, my civic duty done.

In any case, what a weekend. Friday was clearly the designated holiday for most people, and Absecon Island seemed to be completely overrun with people, traffic totally backed up, so that it seemed possibly not another person could get over another bridge. Beaches were crowded and unusually filled with smokers, for some reason. Today still felt a bit festive, but mostly, people were back to work. The weekend was monster, weather wise, Friday and Saturday land-breeze hot, tho the water temp dropped to the mid 60s. Sunday, with beach time shortened by the second year of epic Wimbledon men's finals, was quite lovely, with the breeze flowing out from the ocean again. And I do still feel bad for Andy Roddick.

 As for the fireworks, I had a great view from the D Dock of the Farley State Marina of the Fireworks at the Borgata. There was a breeze blowing, which at the end, I noticed was blowing the smoke directly over the Trump Marina. A little bit like me on the beach on Friday, downwind from the smokers. (That's a photo of the fireworks aftermath). Poor Donald. He just cannot get a break. I have a feeling if anyone booked over there expecting to see fireworks from their room, they probably got only the smoke. Then again, Borgata and Harrahs are overshadowing the ailing Trump Marina in many ways, and this seemed very emblematic. Borgata and Harrah's bring us the fireworks, Trump Marina gets the smoke. The fireworks were huge, but featured some dubious narrative arcs, including lots of smiley faces and hearts. Me, I'm not one for literal-ness in my fireworks display. But I'm sure smiley-face people liked it just fine.

Missing this year, of course, were fireworks from the Bernie Robbins Stadium, because the minor league Surf baseball team folded in the off season.  People in Ventnor bragged of standing on the boardwalk and seeing fireworks from three towns: Margate, Ocean City and Atlantic City. The view from the Longport causeway had a similarly-cool multi-municipality firework vantage point.

 To my way of thinking, there's still nothing better than the old fireworks that were launched from a barge in the ocean out a ways from Atlantic City. The contrast in sight and sound of the sand and the waves, the stars and the sky, and the fireworks, was truly awesome. And of course, every year I think about that one year in Atlantic City when the barge caught fire after the fireworks display. I was a fairly new mom then, but still a reporter, and I looked at that little fire out on the barge and thought, "Hmmm, that's weird. I guess it's a fire on the barge." And then I took my daughter home and put her to bed. And didn't give it much more thought until the next morning, when I turned on the television, and to my horror, the fireworks barge fire in Atlantic City was the lead story on the Today show, no thanks to me. My friend Brendan Shur of the Associated Press, at the time, had hopped on her bicycle and got the story big time. This troubled me for many years. How could I have looked at that fire and not ditched my kid, jumped on my bike and gotten the story that night? But you know, now, I look back and think, ok, so for once, the mom instincts truly and totally overwhelmed the reporter instinct in me. It can happen. So sue me. Just don't ask me to sit on my own jury.

No, not a Brazilian wax, which my Daily News compadre Jason Nark wrote so compellingly about when the State of New Jersey was flirting with banning, before reconsidering after much outcry from the tiny bikini crowd. And not even a Brazilian hair straightening, which apparently can be accomplished free of formaldehyde these days, or so I'm told. No, here in Sea Isle City, the venerable Dalrymple's is selling what they call a Brazillan beach chair. Which they offer in two varieties: the "2 Pos" one which is 2 positions for $15.49, or the "5-7 Pos" one, for $17.49. Me, I always prefer at least five to seven for my beach chairs. From what I could tell from the display, Brazilian chairs are distinguished by their very sleek profile on the canvas sling, for which you would need to be rather narrow to fit on one. Sounds about right. And if you can snag a Brazilian soccer player to go with it, so much the better.

 Previously: Sea Isle City, once again a Fun City

                 Lucy, looking good

                 Shoobie slander

 

 Ten years ago, Fun City, the beloved little amusement park on the promenade in Sea Isle City run by the Pittaluga family of electricians, was shut down, the land sold to developers. There was much sadness over the loss of the little kiddie ride haven that had operated for 30 years, but really, who could blame the Pittalugas? As an amusement park, the land was worth a million, a million and a half. As property to develop, $6 million. But now, thanks to another great shore family, the Gillians of Gillians Wonderland Pier in Ocean City, the kiddie rides are back in Sea Isle City. Jay Gillian says the family tried to buy Fun City when it closed, but couldn't compete with developers, and has been trying in the decade since to buy property. Finally, a deal was worked out for the new park to operate on city owned property at the foot of the bridge leading into town, near the marina and historic Fish Alley, where a new boardwalk is also being built. It's the only new from-scratch amusement park opening this summer in the country.

That's Jay Gillian, 44, up there in front of one of his new rides in Sea Isle. Today was the official ribbon cutting with city officials and festivities, but hours after, with the Fun Land sheet cake three-quarters eaten, Jay was still accepting hand shakes and thanks from kids and their families. And why not? Who among us does not have great memories of taking our kids to those kiddie rides in Ocean City, waving to them every time they made another cycle in the kiddie fire trucks with the bell, or the boats floating in the water, or the airplanes that you had to shout at them to get them to figure out how to make them go up and down? Jay and I both got a little misty thinking about all those photos, how so many of us have those same photos of our kids and then, as they got older, in there with their little nieces, and, eventually, with their own kids. "That's where the magic is," he said. "It becomes very emotional for me. I grew up there, and now, I'm seeing people I went to school with bring their kids. It's so rewarding and humbling." The Gillians opened their first place, Fun Deck, in 1929, at the site of what's now the waterpark in Ocean City. It's catering to families that Jay says keeps the Gillians doing well, where other companies, like Six Flags, are in bankrupcy. "You can't lose with families," he said. "Great Adventure went crazy with all the roller coasters, too corporate."

 

It's been years since Lucy the Elephant looked this good.

For the last two weeks, Alpine Painting and Sandblasting employees Carlos Fallas and Fernando Ubarno have been putting a new coat on the old pachyderm on Atlantic Ave in Margate.

Today, Fallas says, they will finish the job with some final touches on Lucy's red and yellow blanket, up around the butt area.

The paint was specially mixed for Lucy by MAB paint, so they are using "Lucy the Elephant Gray" which combines black, raw umber, maroon and deep gold, for those keeping score, and Lucy the Elephant Red, which combines maroon, red and white. Plus a yellow known as goldfinch and a brown that mixed green, maroon and deep gold. Just in case you have your own tin 65 foot tin elephant roadside attraction whose paint job needs touching up, I guess is why I'm providing you with these details. You're welcome.

Anyway, Carlos says it's his first time painting an elephant, especially one worn by salt air and blowing sand and whose outer shell is a little flexible and thus needs special care. The red and yellow trim has proved the trickiest, he said. Lucy was last painted in 2000, but with simple house paint, and it just did not hold up. Plus, somebody got a silly idea to paint her toenails different colors. She has now gone back to basic black. Honestly, she is so shiny that I'd have to say, it's worth a trip to Margate to see the old girl again. Alpine has lots of important icons on its resume, including Giants Stadium and Drumthwacket. Looking this good, it seems Lucy will be around a lot longer than Giants Stadium, which is going down this fall.

Long Live Lucy.

This photo is from Saturday night over the Ventnor back bays, since the sun has not yet set tonight as I write this, but what a beautiful weekend it was. Finally. Two great beach days. Saturday was like suddenly full-out summer, a hot land breeze blowing in from the bay, warm water, crowded beaches, streets lit up at night with sidewalk dining. It was like I was back in the land of the living, and glad of it. Some beaches toward the south end, already narrowed by erosion, were a pretty comically tight wall-to-wall squeeze when I walked by them during high tide on Saturday afternoon. Kind of amusing. Ventnor lifeguards were busy on Saturday, with an impressive rescue of about five people on some kind of field trip from Egg Harbor City who did not respond to repeated whistles to come in from too far out. They sent out a lifeguard boat, a lifeguard jet ski, three lifeguards swimming and hauled the people back to shore in the boat. The people seemed more shaken than embarrassed which makes me think they really did need rescuing. Nicely done. State police on the water were also ready to pounce, pulling over (stopping in mid water?) errant jet skiers in the back bays and having none of any excuses. Or so I'm told. Let's just say, tickets were written, moods were spoiled. Sunday was cooler, nice breeze, but the sun held out very nicely all afternoon. Unlike the United States men's soccer team.

Previously on downashore: Shoobie Slander

So is this the season of the rains or what? It's getting ridiculous. Last night we had a couple nice evening beach hours and just when we were feeling like the bad weather was a thing of the past, the skies opened up and it was the tropics all over again, a huge deluge. But one has to pass the time at the shore somehow. For locals like myself, it means we head for Philly. And I give a big thumbs up to the Philly Zoo for an excellent day yesterday with myself and three tweeners. Watching the hippos bob for apples was a jaw dropper, literally. In any case, for people here on vacation, they are stuck sticking it out on the beach even though it's cloudy and depressing. I salute you, intrepid vacationers. The water's still pretty warm though, at least there's that. 

But that is not the reason I brought you here, to complain about the weather. It's to relate this story: The other night, I was walking home from Mento's, the Ventnor water ice and ice cream stand, with my two daughters, who are 12 and 14. A car passed by and a guy leaned out his head and shouted: "Shoobies, go home!" At us!  We were stunned because, hey, we're usually the ones doing the shoobie eye-rolling, though we've never actually suggested shoobies go home, because we like the shoobies. Some of them are our good friends. Anyway, we were thinking, what about us made them think we were shoobies? Here we are, just a block from our home, hey buddy, we LIVE here. Some of us were BORN down the shore. We are graduates of Shore public schools. Our friends surf, even if we do not. We will grow up to be beach badge checkers. So what was it? We narrowed it down to two things.

One: the very act of going to get ice cream at night and then walking around with your ice cream cone is very shoobie. We admit that. Hey, gang, we're at the shore, let's get ice cream! Ok, guilty. But there was another important factor in our shoobie-ness that night.  In reality, I had started the outing with just my 12 year old, and then we swung around to pick up my 14 year old at a friend's house. She wanted a ride home in a car, but consented to being picked up on foot because we were already nearby. After the shoobie slander, she realized her mistake: Only shoobie teenagers down the shore and, essentially, held hostage, isolated from their home peer group, would be out walking with their parents at 10:30 at night. The locals, naturally, roam in unsupervised packs until curfew. So there we were, making like shoobies. So much for my walk with the girls. They took off, put a block between them and their mom, and made like locals.

 

Previously, on downashore: Skinny's House 

 

There are show houses and there are show houses. This year's Show House at the Shore, to benefit RNS Cancer & Heart Fund, is a classic: the Ventnor house formerly belonging to the legendary impressario and 500 Club owner and Sinatra pal Paul "Skinny" D'Amato at 12 South Suffolk. This house has changed hands several times since Skinny lived there and, although this is not included in the press release from RNS, has the distinction of having been the scene of a murder in the basement, for which his son, Angelo, pleaded guilty. But we digress. It also is a very cool house, and let's hope the designers know enough not to remove all of the Rat Pack cool, like the frosted silver mirrors in the dining room and other singular touches. In any case, the house is worth a visit if only to see the historic and legendary backyard patio, possibly the coolest patio on the planet, with stones imprinted with the signatures and handprints of the likes of Sinatra, Sammy Davis Jr. and other legends who made Skinny's 500 club the happening joint that it was, and Suffolk Avenue a block from the ocean the coolest street in Ventnor. (Incongruously, I have attended book group meetings in that same swinging living room, one owner back from the houses' present owners).  Skinny took over the 500 Club in the 40s, and while there remain those who believe Skinny was a front for the mob, or at the very least, a very congenial host, there is no doubt Skinny left his mark all over Atlantic City. For more on Skinny, look no further than this excellent book: The Last Good Time: Skinny D'Amato, the Notorious 500 Club, & the Rise and Fall of Atlantic City, by Jonathan Van Meter. The Show House opens July 11 and runs through August 16. Admission is $25. Gala open house on July 10. More info at 609-487-1190.

Look, there's no other way to say it. No point in being coy. Also, no guarantees it will last. And, sure, it would be nice if there were a little bit more sunshine, or any sunshine, to go along with it, but listen. The ocean temperature is warm, pushing 70 in Atlantic City, breaking 70 in Cape May, very unusual for June at the Jersey shore, where some years, like last year, the water stays frigid until about mid-August. Or maybe you have already repressed the memories of last summer's shore vacation in which your ocean romping consisted of about a 30 second plunge into a 55-degree ocean, if that. When the ocean finally warmed up last summer, it was like a halleluyah moment. This summer, it's kind of like a, whoa, this isn't too bad moment. Usually, the locals feel lucky to still be here in September and October, when the ocean is always balmy and the crowds have gone. But this year, we had the crazy hot beach day weather in late April, and now, the early warm up of the ocean. The surfers -- that's Ocean City High School's Chris Kelly in the photo, one of the state's best surfers, who is turning pro after graduation -- won't be needing their full wet suits at this point. Though, this being Jersey, things could change at the shift of a wind. And then, depending on whether our editors are down the shore at the time, we will need to do stories and explanatory blog posts about the upwelling effect and its relation to suddenly dropping ocean temperature, usually a late August staple. But for now, nice. Now, we just need to work on those air temps a bit.

 

Previously, on downashore: Paris Hilton at the Borgata.