No extra boardwalk patrols in Ventnor this summer

VENTNOR, N.J. - In this cozy Shore town sandwiched between Atlantic City and Margate, there's a newfound freedom in the boardwalk air.

Or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say, there's just a little less control in the controlled chaos that is the Ventnor boardwalk, where the high season of bicycles, strollers, walkers, joggers, and, most prominent, schmoozers kicked in Saturday morning in perfect sunshine and heat.

But with one thing missing: the boardwalk cops, a.k.a. the rent-a-cops - the bane of dog walkers, after-hours bicyclers, beach-block double parkers, and curfew violators.

Because of budget constraints, the chief of police decided not to hire the usual band of Class 2 officers who walked the boards armed with a pen and pad and a lot of rules. Two years ago there were six, who patrolled from 8 a.m. to midnight. Last year, they were down to three.

This summer, with zero, the always comically crowded boardwalk - where vacationers on a tight relaxation schedule bring their best bumper-to-bumper Schuylkill etiquette - is up for grabs.

This did not seem to bother too many people.

"It's better," said Stephanie Ritigstein of Cherry Hill, who created a traffic jam of her own Saturday when she stopped her double stroller with twins Noah and Spencer to chat with a half-dozen people she knew. An officer, she said, added to the crowd by being "even one more person on the boardwalk."

On some blocks, the law of the boardwalk has fallen to the people who, though not officially designated, have always ruled it: the old men on their regular morning benches.

"Slow down!" one man yelled to another who was trying to cross the boardwalk on a bike about a week ago.

"Watch where you're walking!" the other shot back, asserting the minority view that the cyclists have the upper hand.

"Be polite, you [unprintable Yiddish euphemism]!" said the first guy, settling it.

If nothing else, the absence of the officers means a little easier breathing in the Land of No (no dogs, no ball playing, no eating, no bicycling after noon on summer weekends). It's the honor system now.

All the better to carry on with the real purpose of the boardwalk: the summer hellos. "It's hi, hi, hi all the way down the boardwalk," said Lois Shohen, a Ventnor resident by way of Philadelphia.

Or, as one man speeding by on his bike on Oxford Avenue shouted out, in what might as well be the town motto of Ventnor: "Yo! Whoever that was!"

Actually, the many sets of twins in double jogging strollers clearly rule and can stop traffic any time they want. In addition to the aforementioned Noah and Spencer, there were Max and Sam Busch in a double stroller a few blocks toward Margate, who turned a bunch of heads as well.

"They see the double stroller, ride by, and turn back and look," said their mother, Beth Busch. "And I'm like, 'Watch in front of you!' "

Regulars become students of the rituals on the Ventnor boardwalk, which, especially early in the season, can seem like ground zero for shoobie tension. Relax, people, you can do it.

"It's a highway," said Jonathan Hager, visiting Saturday from Rochester, N.Y., as he tried to maneuver four young children across the boardwalk. "We love the boardwalk, but at 8 in the morning, it's like a highway."

"You do have to look every which way," said Dov McGuire-Berk, 8, of Moorestown.

"There's a whole culture, a whole mystique to the boardwalk," said Bob Saver, in the middle of a precise marathon training session that included measuring calories burned on a special watch (296 at mile three).

"We say hi to people whose names we don't even know," he said. "I never stop to talk to anyone. You know some people by their gaits."

And like clockwork Saturday, the usual characters came out of hibernation: the man vowing to say hello to 200 people, the three generations of women with matching shirts, the cell-phone talkers, the play-by-players ("This was the metal part of the boardwalk they took out"), the sing-to-themselves-while-bicycling, the dancing rollerblade man, the kid explaining Facebook to his father while taking a family ride on dorky bikes.

Most people, observed Carmine Sardella, 76, a regular, talk about "finances or their boyfriends."

Or ride their bicycles too fast.

"It's a board-walk, not a board-ride," observed Bill Sabonjian from a bench on Somerset. "What happens is you get the idiots."

One person who surely won't miss the boardwalk officers is Karen Scheiner, who rode her bike with her dachshund, Abby, in a towel-lined basket Saturday.

"They were the dog Nazis," said Scheiner.

More than a decade ago, Scheiner had an encounter with the Ventnor boardwalk cops, who demanded she take her basket-dogs off the boardwalk, then called for backup when she made the case that the dogs were not technically on the boardwalk.

"There was a crowd of people, and everybody started screaming," she said. "I think people are responsible enough to manage their own affairs."

Ventnor Police Chief Donald Cancelosi said he was sorry not to have the boardwalk officers, which cost the town $24,000, some of which was covered by the summonses the officers wrote. He has put a regular officer on a bicycle to patrol at night.

"We do have a lot of older citizens who like to enjoy the boardwalk in the evenings," he said. "We have to make sure they are not run over by bicyclists."

At Beach Patrol headquarters at Suffolk Avenue - known as the tent - Capt. Billy Howarth said he was curious to see how people adjusted to their new freedom and predicted an increase of all-day bicycling and dog walking.

"There's nobody left up there telling them they can't," he said. "That's not my job. I can see it already. I think everybody's going to just keep riding. It'll be a free-for-all."

Despite his perch on the boardwalk, Howarth said he would keep his eyes trained toward the ocean and not on the lookout for scofflaw dogs and bikes. "We're looking that way," he said, pointing at the Atlantic.

His own Beach Patrol budget took a 10 percent cut, which meant a reduced staff in June and - this is a bombshell - four fewer beach badge checkers. But the dozen remaining are sharp-eyed, Howarth said.

If the first morning of the big July Fourth weekend is any guide, it seems the people of the Ventnor boardwalk crush will be able to police themselves. Because they are creatures of habit motivated by rising temperatures, by noon the boardwalk was mostly free of bicyclists and the beach filled with umbrellas.

"Go to Hong Kong and watch the crowds," said Norm Klinger, who regularly holds court on the Oxford Avenue bench (and beach). "Go to Tokyo and watch the crowds. They're self-regulating. We can do it, too."

Complete listings of fireworks and holiday events at http://go.philly.com/

july4th

EndText