Tiny Reeds Beach, N.J., got false assurances on Sandy

MIDDLE TOWNSHIP, N.J. - Before the storm was over, a line of cars had begun to form along the road to Reeds Beach.

Stepping out of their cars Tuesday morning, families peered across the marshland to the thin spit of sand that stretches out into the Delaware Bay. Some could see their homes and were relieved; others already had received bad news.

"What is there to talk about?" said John "Bucky" Stapleford, 56, who just found out that his grandmother's home, which had been in the family about 70 years, had washed into the ocean.

Across Cape May County from the bustling Shore towns of Avalon and Wildwood lies a little-known beach in Middle Township, where the same families have congregated for generations, passing houses down from parent to child and leading an existence that seems a world apart from that of their more famous neighbors.

Those in the know speak of summertime nights spent chasing turtles with flashlights, the simplicity of sitting on a porch and watching the sunset, and the joy of watching their children play on the beach with the children of their former playmates.

"I'm not sure I want anyone else to know about this place," said Ralph Cobert, 60, of Bellmawr. "When I have to leave and go back to work, I go and sit out on the porch and look out over the bay, and it's heaven."

Set on the other side of the bay from the Atlantic Ocean, Reeds Beach was expected to be relatively protected from the powerful waves and high winds of Sandy. But with a powerful storm surge overnight Monday, waves came crashing into Reeds, ripping apart bulkheads and sending the ocean across the spit.

Mike Bailey of West Deptford arrived at his family's house late Tuesday afternoon to find the dock and the front of the house gone, and his jet boat, which he had left in the water for the storm, a couple of hundred yards back on the roadway.

The house is "bad, but it's fixable," he said. "I feel really bad for the people up the street. Their house is just gone. It's tough. We're very tight here."

It's not the first time Reeds has suffered at the hands of a storm. A couple of large gaps between houses are the result of Hurricane Gloria in 1985, residents said.

Some were well prepared for Sandy. Kurt Kelly, who is known to neighbors by his long gray beard and hodgepodge home-building style, rode out the storm with his wife and daughter in the house he built himself.

Middle Township officials recalled how Kelly had bragged that the angles of the house would allow it to withstand a 100-year storm; on Tuesday, they acknowledged he might have been on to something.

Outside the weathered three-story house of varying wood and siding, Kelly stood with a glass of red wine recounting a night in Monday's superstorm.

"You didn't hear the waves, you felt them. They were pounding against the bulkhead," he said. "And all of a sudden it went smooth, and I said, 'Oh-oh.' And that's when I looked out and saw the bulkhead washing down the road."

Homeowners sat along the roadway to Reeds all day Tuesday, waiting for inspectors to finish their rounds and power company workers to clear downed lines.

Information slowly trickled back from those who had gotten out to the beach early in the morning or later had ignored firefighters standing watch at the top of the road and just kept walking.

Those who stayed were left to talk among themselves and hustle for information, calling out to local officials by name as they passed in their trucks.

Paul Hand, chief of a volunteer fire company in Middle Township, drove an inch at a time, stopping for one inquiry after another. Like many, he was not entirely sure about the origins of Reeds.

"It's a funny place," he said. "My understanding is Reeds was started by glassworkers who used to camp out there in the summertime. That's what my ancestors told me."

Mostly the news coming in Tuesday was good.

Kristi McConaghy, 28, of Haddon Heights, managed to get through the barricade to inspect the one-story bungalow her grandfather had built. She found it mostly intact.

"I'm relieved," she said. "We've all been following what's happening on Facebook. I was really worried."

But late Tuesday afternoon, many were still waiting to get in and find out whether their house bore a red tag, the signal that the building inspector had condemned it.

As a wind blew in off the bay, sending a chill through the line of cars still parked on the side of the road, some started giving up on getting back into Reeds before nightfall. They didn't leave but stood around trading gossip and stories about their brushes with scientists who study the migratory birds who stop off on the beach on their way to South America.

"It's like the horseshoe crabs. We all go out in the morning to turn them over so they don't die. We all do it," said Cobert's wife, Lee. "It's not just about a beach. It's about an entire life of memories."