Coastal flooding reveals Lewes history

Last weekend’s coastal flooding revealed a brief but important chapter of Lewes history when the marshes between Freeman Highway and Savannah Road filled with the high tide mid-morning on Saturday.  It’s no accident that the cedar-studded line working its way across the marsh toward the city’s wastewater treatment plant forms an almost perfect arc.  In fact, the arc is part of an early 20th century railroad system that combined train and steamboat travel.  The rail line that the arc peels off from, in the foreground of the photograph, is still in use but the rail bed built above the marsh to make the looping line for the cedars went out of use nearly 100 years ago. Read more about this interesting rail line in my Barefootin’ column in the Friday, Dec. 25 edition of the Cape Gazette.

The storm also accentuated the red ruins of the old Lofland Brick Company on Round Pole Branch Road just outside the easterly limits of Milton. I will post a photograph of those ruins on Wednesday morning.  I will also post a photograph taken at the height of last weekend’s storm in Rehoboth Beach, about a half an hour after I took this photo in Milton.  It shows the Boardwalk project work at the end of Rehoboth Avenue with the nor’easter-driven seas licking at the dunes just beyond the grasses.  This nor’easter made up in intensity what it lacked in duration.  The amazing thing about Rehoboth on Saturday was that there was zero snow here compared to the six inches already on the ground in Milton at the same time.

We were in a pocket here along the coast that protected us from the brunt of the storm.  As Walter Brittingham often says, we’re so blessed to live here.

The inscrutable, monstrous Dr. Bradley

A metal suit of armor stands on the front porch of Dr. Earl Bradley’s house across from the firehouse on Savannah Road in Lewes.  It’s always struck me as a curiosity.  Now, given the unbelievable sex crime charges filed against the doctor, the suit of armor symbolizes something far more sinister.  For years, perhaps decades, no one knew or was willing to confront the monster that videos in police possession indicate existed inside the man. As for the medieval armor, the slit in the metal across the eyes offered at least a little opportunity to see the man within.  For his personal armor, Dr. Bradley dressed his life with innocent cartoon characters to more insidiously camouflage the horror that seethed inside.

The front porch of the house reveals more of the man’s contradictory nature.  In the window beside the suit of armor, a smiling Santa Claus figure looks to the world outside – another clue into the psyche of a twisted mind.

A further look around Dr. Bradley’s residence on Sunday morning, the grounds crusted with snow, showed a property not consistent with what you think of as a doctor’s house.  The old house needs a lot of work.  The ’70s-era aluminum siding is dirty, a back fence is broken down.  A new boat and trailer fill much of the back yard with its collection of ill-kept small sheds. A lawn mower sits forlornly and askew, as if the gas had run out and the owner just walked away from it where it sat, without another thought – or, perhaps, with many other thoughts.  The overall sense of the place is dysfunctional.

Several years ago, not long after he moved his BayBees pediatrics practice into the house on Route 1 where many recent crimes allegedly took place, Dr. Bradley and office staff entered the Lewes Christmas Parade.  His float was one of the most unusual that has ever participated in the parade.  He had cartoon characters aboard the wagon and other items drawing attention to his BayBees practice.  Most noteworthy however was a picture screen at the front of the float.  The doctor had rigged up a generator-powered video camera and had it positioned in such a way that it broadcast images of the parade in real time on the screen.

We know, now, based on court documents,  that Dr. Bradley used those same technical skills with the video equipment to record his own deviant sexual crimes against the youngest of children.  Trying to conceive of the mind that conjures and acts on these thoughts sends the brain toward shutdown.

Most of us have probably thought we would never encounter a real monster in our lives. Now it’s clear that we have.

There have long been clues that this odd character wasn’t in synch with the rest of the world around him.  Now the community is asking itself how long these crimes have been part of his world and why we didn’t detect their horrible extent before now?

Let it snow while I reflect

A classic winter snowstorm, tracking up the coast from the south like the big ones that usually nail us, is on its way at this writing. At Best’s store today, snow shovels were flying out the door like Ryan Howard’s homeruns out of Citizen’s Bank Park. “What do they do with them from year to year?” one cashier asked.  “Who cares? I said.  “It’s job security for you guys.”

Meanwhile DelDOT’s been brining the roads to anticipate the ice.  Pretty work!

It’s 4:30 and it’s almost dark.  Just one more week and we’ll pass the winter solstice and the days will begin lengthening again. Merry Christmas!

I’m still thinking about a recent trip to Seattle where a granddaughter, Maisy Peach, was born.  Her papa, Ross, read her a story, “Don’t Lick The Dog” a couple of days ago.  She listened to each word and asked lots of questions.  Only a week old?  Can you believe it?  We’re sure she’s a genius.  Maybe she   was just thinking the questions. But she must be smart.  Megan was reading lots of baby books during her pregnancy. 

Here’s a quick picture story about the days leading up to the birth.

First, we ate fish tacos at the Coastal Kitchen up on Broadway and drank wine and beer and wondered whether Megan would give birth before we had to fly back to Delaware.  Fish tacos are a fine art in the Pacific Northwest.  The restaurant had a Cuban flavor and we liked it. C’mon baby.

A few days later we were looking in windows on First Street in Belltown, wondering how we would look in these creative togs made out of candy – red licorice and peppermints. We were also still wondering whether Megan would deliver – whether the stork would land – before we had to leave.

We took a side trip to San Juan Island, north of Seattle in Puget Sound, thinking we would fool the baby into thinking we had left.  “Maybe that will get her moving, since she’s already past her due date by 10 days for God’s sake.”  We enjoyed looking at alpacas at a farm on San Juan Island.  Wool clothing was beautiful and expensive.

Then we walked through a small state park with a beautiful lighthouse.  

There’s a great sculpture garden on the island with about a hundred different pieces spread over 20 or 30 acres.

A nice walk on a sunny day.

It was there that Becky filled out a prayer message and dropped it into a prayer spinner to be broadcast through the atmosphere of deep consciousness.

She prayed for a safe and speedy baby delivery and a healthy granddaughter.

Then we took the ferry back to Seattle, still waiting for the baby’s arrival, but getting close to our  departure date just one day away.

The prayer worked.  Maisy Peach decided to send Megan into labor the night before we left.  At 1:30 in the morning she and Ross were rocking and moaning in the living room, listening to mellow music, and just a day past the full moon.  Megan and her sister, Meredith, were both full moon babies.  Maisy Peach wanted to follow suit.  She came into this world at 10 a.m. Here she is with mom and pop three minutes after delivery.  Ain’t it cool?  And this is why we have to work so hard to make this world a better place.

Goin’ to the Chapel in a Purple Haze

Delaware native Tom Douglas operates several successful restaurants in Seattle.

SEATTLE: DEC. 2, 2009 – This town seduces you.  It’s easy to drink too much wine and espresso. So many options and, at this time of year, so little daylight. Don’t ask for the connection.  Chalk it up to alcohol and caffeine.

Today we ate lunch at a Tom Douglas restaurant called Serious Pie. (Douglas has Delaware connections and several other Seattle Restaurants including Lola, Palace Kitchen, Dahlia Lounge and Etta’s Seafood.) Serious Pie is seriously reminiscent of Half Full in downtown Lewes: artisan pizzas along with an extensive list of Italian wines and a shorter list of beers and ales. We ate two of their thin-crusted pizzas – about the thinnest and lightest crust we’ve ever had – and washed them down with a carafe of Pinot Grigio.

A few blocks later, we stopped into an espresso joint.  I’m too fond of lattes with caramel. The sound system was playing “Going to the chapel and I’m . . . gonna get married . . . “

“Is that Jimi Hendrix?” I asked the young man as I was paying for my order.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“I was just kidding,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said, kind of innocently.  ”It doesn’t sound psychedelic enough.”

“But you know what is funny?” I asked, without waiting for an answer.  ”Both of those songs came out during the same era.”

“This is a collection from the ’60s,” he said. “So that makes sense.”

I went on to tell him about seeing Hendrix and his band at Washington D.C.’s Shoreham Hotel in the spring of 1968.  He seemed genuinely interested.

“How was it?”

“Amazing,” I said.  ”What I couldn’t believe was how much music those three musicians could put out by themselves.  Of course Hendrix and his bass player each had pyramids of amplifiers and speakers 20 feet tall and equally as wide, on each side of the stage.”

“I would like to have seem him,” he said.

“He was probably dead before you were born.”

“1987,” he said.

“Oh yeah, he was gone by then.  But you can go up on Broadway and see that great statue of him.”

Then I thought again of the contrast in music produced in that era.

“I guess it shows the difference between music produced under the influence of hot chocolate and music produced under the influence of LSD.”   He might have laughed.  I’m not sure.

He rung me up and walked away after giving me my change and four quarters for bus fare.  I threw some more words his way.  ”I’m putting a dollar in the tip jar here for your education fund.”

“Not going to college,” he said.  ”Going straight into business.”

“School of hard knocks huh?” I replied.

“Yup.”

“You know what the school colors are don’t you?”

He looked at me inquiringly.

“Black and blue,” I said.

He smiled and Becky laughed, though she’s heard it dozens of times before.

“Do I get a discount for entertainment?”

“Next time,” he said, and smiled.

“Oh yeah,” I said, “Like that classic sign on the bar: ‘Beer is free tomorrow.’”

Marilyn Monroe and an authentic burrito

I asked the young black man walking up the street whether the Mexican restaurant across the street was any good.  He didn’t pay me much mind.  None at all as a matter of fact.  I was in a heavy Latino area south of Johns Hopkins Hospital and I wondered whether he spoke only Spanish so didn’t understand my question.  It was a warm afternoon, shadows lengthening, and I looked after him as he passed, without giving me the time of day.  Not 20 years old I guessed, wearing tight black nylon around his head and the magical blue jeans so popular.  Magical?  How do they stay up? I don’t get it.  The pants came up to the bottom of his butt revealing most of his white jockey shorts.  Really, how do the pants stay up?  He probably picked up on my thought process.  I mean, are there pins involved? Ok, ok. I’ll get off it.  He probably didn’t know much about the restaurant  named Paisanos across the street.  It didn’t look like much but all I wanted was a burrito, a real burrito.

Inside the restaurant,  two women and a toddler paid me not a whole lot more mind than the mute young man who passed me by outside on the sidewalk.

“Can I get a burrito?”

The younger of the two women pointed straight up at the signs above the counter. Through the yellowing plastic  I could see that one of the selections, No. 5 I think, was a burrito.  The presentation didn’t excite me but I forged ahead.

“With chicken?” she asked.

The young child looked up at me and her brown eyes pulled mine away from the sign and the question.  I smiled, then I saw the poster of Marilyn Monroe on the wall and the shadows of the words on the front window playing across her image. It reminded me of a snowstorm last winter in Rehoboth when I photographed a snowy Rehoboth Avenue sidewalk, looking toward the ocean, and a poster of Marilyn Monroe, sultry and way too hot in her clothes, as she looked out on the wintry scene.

“Yes,”  I answered.  “I’ll have chicken.”

Another poster of Marilyn on the opposite wall, a different one, more tattered and faded, echoed the one defined by the afternoon’s shadows.

Why the owners of Paisanos wanted a poster of Marilyn Monroe in their restaurant was just as much a mystery to me as the magical, gravity-defying jeans.

I worried a little about the burrito being prepared for me until I saw the plump woman cutting slices of avocado and spreading them across the layer of refried beans on the warm tortilla. Such earthy colors; such earthy tastes. And then some hot peppers too.  It was no miss.

When I licked the last bits of the messy concoction off my fingers I wanted to be starting over. How did she make those big fat rice grains balance so well with everything else? And what does Marilyn Monroe have to do with any of it?

Life is filled with questions isn’t it? Surely a lot more questions than there are answers.

The future of Punkin Chunkin records?

A wee bit of scotch with this one.  Not too much.  Goldilocks principle: just the right amount. (Writing after hours from home.)

This morning, in the rain that rode in on another nor’easter, I drove to Harbeson to take a picture of Harry Thompson and Winfield Martin.  They’re part of the Iron Tiger punkin chunkin team that took third place in this year’s world championship competition.  Harry grows his own pumpkins and is convinced that the Estrella (or Cuban or Indian variety, it’s called all three) that he uses represents the future of world records.  Read my Barefootin’ column in Friday’s Cape Gazette for the full treatment.

My column runs on a page where color isn’t available so I’m including last week’s   and this week’s column pictures with this blog so you can get a feel for the colors. The top photo shows Harry, left, and Winfield (whose friends call him Butch) with the white pumpkin preferred by many chunkers, and the Cuban variety that Harry likes.  The bottom photo shows world record holder Jake Burton and his mom and dad, Chuck and Dawn Burton, in the family’s garage a few days before last weekend’s 2009 World Championship Punkin Chunkin. Note the trophy Jake won with last year’s 4,483-foot throw and his stash of white pumpkins ready for this year’s competition.  Jake didn’t place in the top three this year but his world record still stands.  Harry and his Iron Tiger team won third place this year. I’m not sure how Chuck fared with his J.D. Lazarus chunker. When I find out I’ll let you know.

Pumpkins are good for so much!  Sam Calagione makes a great Dogfish pumpkin ale and check our Denise Clemons’ food column in Friday’s Gazette for a great way to eat pumpkin.  Sussex County has a great future with agriculture.

The Kozman and his band strike again

Saxman Dave Koz and one of the world’s hippest bands anointed the 20th anniversary Rehoboth Beach Autumn Jazz Festival with a wired performance that had a packed Rehoboth Convention Center crowd cheering madly at the Oct. 16 concert. Koz’s bassman has to be the coolest cat on the face of this planet.

After a fine meal at the Blue moon, Koz rolled into the convention center and burned off twice as many calories as he consumed at the Moon. High energy and high humdity!  Afterwards, he and band members wound their way to the back of the hall to sign and sell CDs.  “That’s one thing people really like about our festival,” said Delaware Celebration of Jazz President Denny Santangini.  “The venue is intimate and the artists always get together with the fans afterwards.”

Unlike most jazz festivals around the country, this year’s Rehoboth event drew great crowds and posted strong numbers.  “Our ticket sellers were amazed at how well we did this year,” said Santangini.  “They said every other festival is down.”

Santangini is already looking ahead to next year’s event.  He and I talked about having people like Alison Krausz or Ricky Skaggs on the stage at Rehoboth.  They’re not jazz but the early nights of the festival in the past have included musical acts from other realms.  Keb Mo is another name from the world of country, folk and blues that has been mentioned for a return to Rehoboth.

As for Koz, he loves Rehoboth and Rehoboth loves him.

The picture here was taken with an iPhone camera.  The resolution isn’t much but the effect captures some of the mood of the night.  Lighting and sound were exceptional for this year’s festival as was the overall organization by Delaware Celebration of Jazz.  That’s what being professional is all about.

 

Paddles, pedals, pints, politicks and pales

People paddled, pedaled, drank pints and politicked through much of the day Sunday to enjoy a beautiful October day and raise money for the Friends of Cape Henlopen State Park. While the young winter season’s largest flock of snow geese rose from Gordon’s Pond, filling the sky between canal and ocean with an explosion of motion, a fleet of 40 kayaks made its way eastward from Lewes toward Rehoboth.

Organized by Dogfish Head, Quest Fitness and Lewes Cycle Sports, the event took advantage of two of the area’s great outdooring activities –kayaking on the Lewes-Rehoboth Canal and bicycling on the Junction and Breakwater Trail – and paired them with pints of Dogfish beers, ales and sandwiches at the brewery’s Rehoboth Beach restaurant.  A northwest wind and rising tide joined forces to push the kayakers Rehobothward from the Canalfront Park where the fleet made the first organized use of the canoe and kayak launching area underwritten by Dogfish Head. The trip started a little after 10 a.m. and ended with a return to the park – after delivering the cruiser bicycles to Lewes Cycle Sports – at about 3 p.m.

The trip was not only invigorating and inspired by immersion in the beauty of the state-park-surrounded canal, it also raised several hundred dollars for the friends group.  People came from as far as New York City and as near as Lewes, Rehoboth and Salisbury.

The politicking aspect came from discussions about a water shuttle between Lewes and Rehoboth Beach via the canal and the need for a public landing area on the Rehoboth Beach end to complement the Canalfront Park landing at the Lewes end.  Dogfish Head’s Sam Calagione has offered a $5,000 grant to begin the planning of a shuttle and Rehoboth Beach landing project.  The trails of the area and the shuttle possibilities create an opportunity to make transportation and mobility in Delaware’s Cape Region an amazing tourist attraction. Now the seeds have been spread.  Time will tell whether they have landed on fertile ground.

Nature has already done its work exponentially. The work remaining pales in comparison.

Wolfe House restoration progressing

If you haven’t been to the end of Wolfe Neck Road recently, where the parking area is for the Junction and Breakwater Trail, you’re in for a pleasant surprise.  Restoration work on the 19th century Wolfe House is making great progress.  The house has been shored up structurally with a new foundation.  Paul Camenisch and his team of expert carpenters have replaced asbestos shingle siding with cedar shakes and a new roof overhead will keep the structure in good shape for decades to come.   A porch and new room have been added to the back of the house as well.

The Wolfe House restoration is a partnership project between Sussex County Land Trust and Delaware’s Division of Parks.  All of the restoration work is being funded by private donations to the land trust, much of the money coming from pledges by the developers of 18 different projects who agreed to give a percentage of the sales of every lot in their projects for land preservation and other related projects in Sussex.  Jack Vessels, a member of the land trust board of directors and historic restoration specialist, has been overseeing and coordinating the Wolfe House restoration.  According to Land Trust Executive Director Wendy Baker, a number of contractors and suppliers have been providing free and discounted services and materials to keep the non-profit project affordable. When complete, the building will house an office for the land trust as well as administrative space for Cape Henlopen State Park, on whose land the building sits.

The Wolfe House was originally constructed on the west side of Wolfe Neck Road, in the 1800s, and was part of a farm that bordered Wolfe Glade, once much more of an open body of water.  It was later moved to the east side of the road where it has stood for many decades. In addition to members of the Wolfe family, dating back to the 18th century, inhabiting land on the south side of the glade, Native American communities – evidenced by extensive archaeological findings – inhabited settlements on the north side of the seafood-laden glade dating back at least 3,000 years.  Needless to say, the area is of great historical and cultural interest.

In the decades to come, the Wolfe House and its ancient cedar- and sycamore-shaded grounds will offer a great gathering place to celebrate the preservation of open spaces in Sussex and provide glimpses into the area’s original settlers and those who came after them.

Third Time’s A Charm

Some members of the Irish Eyes - Lewes crew include (l-r) Marcus Donovan, head chef; Amy Rae, assistant manager; Bob Cirelli, banquet chef; Kathy Newcomb, co-owner; Dana Smith, general manager; and Tom Jones, co-owner.

You can’t help but think of the Irish when you’re thinking of luck. Four leaf clovers, green hats and St. Patrick, red hair and green Irish Eyes smiling.

After two fires upset their successful gig in the last few years, everyone is hoping – and working – to make three times a charm for Irish Eyes when it reopens this week in a brand new building on the canalfront in Lewes.  Co-owners Kathy Newcomb, Tom Jones and their faithful crew hosted a party Monday night this week for contractors, staff and friends to show off the new building.  The latest edition feels good.  When it opens to the public this Thursday, Oct. 15, guests will find a familiar place that is even warmer than the last edition.  Minor design flaws in the last edition were corrected in this one and the upstairs deck has been covered and tabled and canopied so it can be used year-round for canalside dining.  Ronny Hill’s custom-built maple bar is surrounded by high definition TVs, a separate game room stands off to one side of the bar, and the art and memorabilia on the walls blend a nice flavor of Lewes and Ireland.

From the sounds of things, a wee bit of Ireland may blow across the sea for the restaurant’s first weekend.  A tough blow out of the northeast is forecast to add drama to the waterfront in Lewes and to the 20th Anniversary Rehoboth Beach Autumn Jazz Festival.  The combination of a new moon and winds forecast to gust as high as 60 will probably make for exceptionally high tides on Saturday. The Irish Eyes opening, however, and the jazz festival offer plenty of great venues to get in out of the rain and wind and get a taste of the coast’s passion. Remember: there’s no such thing as bad weather; only weather for which you aren’t prepared.  Get out your foul weather gear and be ready to have a good time!

Everyone is wishing Irish Eyes and their crew the best of luck and success in their new building.