By William Kelly
When my family first started renting seasonally on Moorlyn Terrace in Ocean City, one day I went for a walk around the block and discovered a house for sale on Wesley Avenue. I insisted that my parents check it out and shortly thereafter, my father made the arrangements to buy 819 Wesley for a nominal $16,500. The previous owner was an old woman named Somers who worked at Copper Kettle Fudge on the Boardwalk.
At first it was just a seasonal vacation home, but eventually it became our permanent residence. We were there, in an historic part of town, for nearly 40 years.
I soon learned that our neighbors were extremely interesting. On one side, old Mrs. Miller lived In a small cottage with an equally old housekeeper and assistant. She was the widow of the first child born on the island, the son of a Lloyd’s of London insurance agent who handled all the shipwrecks on the New Jersey coast.
On the other side, in a much bigger red house, there was Dr. Marcia Smith and her husband, Chris Montagna, an Italian fisherman who struggled to speak English. They seemed to be a mismatched couple.
Originally from Sea Isle City where there is a considerable Italian community, Chris had a small fleet of two or three commercial fishing boats. He eventually moved them to 10th Street on the bay in Ocean City, where he built a restaurant.
Chris’ Restaurant was next to Hogate’s Restaurant. When you drove into Ocean City on the Ninth Street causeway, the first thing you saw was Hogate’s and Chris’, both specializing in seafood. Chris’ seafood was the freshest, as he caught his own that morning, had them filleted right there on the dock, and sent right to the kitchen to be broiled or fried.
Chris was an important employer, hiring fishermen to man his boats, teenagers whom he taught to properly fillet the catch, and cooks, waitresses and busboys for the summer season.
Today most major restaurants, even those located at dockside, must send their catch to Phlly for processing before it is brought back to sell to the public. Back in the ’60s, Chris would catch, fillet and cook his fish within hours of being caught, primarily flounder, weakfish, scallops or whatever was running at the time.
Dr. Smith’s college and medical school tuition was paid for by her father, and she became the first female physician in Cape May County, though her father reportedly disapproved of their marriage.
The esteemed doctor and the Italian fisherman, who could hardly speak English, were certainly an unlikely couple. He was right out of Hemingway’s “Old Man and the Sea.” She opened her Ocean City practice on the first floor of their house. While you would expect the doctor in the family to be the breadwinner, it was actually Chris who made the money.
Dr. Smith enjoyed traveling, especially to the Far East including China and Japan, and was a big supporter of the fledgling state of Israel.
Besides fishing and running his restaurant, Chris also purchased and refurbished two Word War II surplus PT boats which he outfitted for passenger service, one of which was named the Flying Saucer.
Chris himself took the helm of the Flying Saucer, docked next to his fishing boats and restaurant. With twin inboard diesel engines, it roared to life and could really fly. Chris would take it under the Ninth Street bridge, out the Inlet, past the breakers and go full throttle to the South End, turn around and return, making sure everyone got totally soaked in the spray, which was very comforting in the summer heat.
The Flying Saucer lasted quite awhile, until one day it sprang a leak, luckily while it was docked. Nobody was hurt, though it put an end to the Flying Saucer.
Eventually Chris sold his fleet of fishing boats and his restaurant. That gave him and Dr. Smith a comfortable nest egg. Dr. Smith retired, too, though Chris continued fishing every morning, often taking my brother, Leo, along with him. I can still hear him waking us up early in the morning yelling, “Leon!” from under my bedroom window. Leo said that Chris always said to “follow the birds – the birds know where the fish are.”
Eventually Chris’ eyes started to go because one day he was heading directly into a jetty at full speed, and Leo had to warn him to change course. Then Leo began to take the helm.
Chris died first, and his funeral was well attended by all the local Ocean City bigwigs, including Mayor Henry Knight, a pharmacist and neighbor, Congressman William Hughes and others. Chris had a handyman, Ron Holtz, who lived in his garage which was heated by a potbelly stove.
Holtz’s family ran Holtz Marina and Boatworks, so he knew his way around boats. When Chris died, Dr. Smith didn’t want him living there anymore so he moved into our house for the winter.
When Dr. Smith moved into a nursing home, they had a house sale where I bought an antique chair, an ivory Mahjong game she must have gotten from the Far East, a scrapbook full of news clippings about her and Chris, and a bust statue of Dr. Albert Schweitzer, the famous missionary, musician and physician whom she apparently admired.
As I often walked to the library, then at Sixth Street and attached to the high school, I passed a small, granite monument that simply read: “Dr. Marcia Smith – Citizen.” From the scrapbook I learned it was a gift from the Israeli ambassador because of her support of early Israel. A few years later, after she had died, I noticed the monument was missing. I drove to the city scrapyard next to the animal shelter and found it among the scraps being recycled.
I went to see Mayor Knight at his pharmacy and told him about the removal of Dr. Smith’s monument, as it seems like each generation doesn’t know or respect those who have come before them. Mayor Knight had the monument replaced, but I don’t know where it is today, or if anyone remembers Dr. Smith and Chris Montagna. But I certainly do.
billykelly3@gmail.com
