Down to the Shore: Life before the Garden State Parkway became a parking lot

BY ERIC MODEL

NEWJERSEYNEWSROOM.COM

JOURNEYS INTO NEW JERSEY

Summer is upon us. That means trips to the Shore. It's all a lot of fun once you get there, but getting there can often be more than a little frustrating.

To many, it's a science of its own to try to beat the crowds on the Garden State Parkway. Is it best for an early get-a-way or a late return. If you don't think it through it can be a real nightmare – being stuck crawling through bumper to bumper traffic. Tempers can run high in the summer heat. It's just not fun.

This was not always the case, however. Contemplate these words that we found in a book called the "Shore Chronicles" which is compilation of diaries and travelers' tales from the Jersey Shore 1764-1955 (1999; Down the Shore Publishing).

One entry titled "1955: The Parkway and the Shore" is a Travel Magazine essay by Editor Malcolm Davis.
In it, he wrote described his impressions of a drive on the newly opened Garden State Parkway, "... A miracle ride through a surprisingly scenic state that actually permits full and constant viewing of the adjacent real estate, and isn't merely an open-air artery to the end of the line". He also wrote of the parkway's broad dividers, as well as "picnic groves and cutoffs for a little loafing or a nap during the drive."

It was such an impression that the designers of the parkway had initially set out to achieve.

One of their stated objectives was for the parkway to become a State Park its entire length and its users would enjoy park-like aesthetics with minimal intrusion of urban scenery.

The landscape architect and engineer in charge of the newly-named "Garden State Parkway" was Gilmore David Clarke, of the architectural firm of Parson, Brinkerhof, Hall and MacDonald, who had worked with Robert Moses on the parkway systems around New York City. Clarke's design prototypes for the parkway combined the example of the Pennsylvania Turnpike, a model of efficiency with parallels in the German Autobahn routes of the 1930s, with the Merritt Parkway model that stressed a planted "green belt" for beauty.

Along the ride, users were permitted to stop and picnic along the roadway to further enjoy the relaxation qualities the parkway had to offer. All picnic areas had tall trees that provided shade and visual isolation from the roadway. Grills, benches, running water and restrooms were provided. Over time as the parkway transformed into a road of commerce, the picnic areas were being closed for a variety of reasons. Their ramp terminals became insufficient to accommodate the high speed mainline traffic and in addition to the decreasing amount of users, the picnic areas were becoming more effective as maintenance yards and were converted as so or closed altogether.

Davis' trip was during the July Fourth holiday weekend, just after the road's ribbon cutting ceremony, and here's what he found, "Despite expectations of bumper-to-bumper travel, we wheeled along the parkway unhindered ... Indeed, on the southern segments of the parkway there were times when no other car was in sight."

This bucolic attraction was probably a far cry from the roads it replaced.

One can only imagine the type of trip traveler had to endure to and from the shore on two lane roads such U.S. 9 and States Routes 34, 35, 36 and 72.

According to one shore community history (Atlantic Highlands), for a long time travel to the shore from the north had come mainly via train and boat. It was only after train service was discontinued in the later 1940's that the car became the preferred mode of transportation.

Before and even during World War II, traffic congestion had been steadily increasing on the main north-south highways of the state, most notably U.S. 1 throughout the state, but also U.S. 9 and state highway 35 as they ran south, carrying motorists between the New York suburbs and the Shore.

As a youth, here in Bergen County, my dad used to like to walk us three blocks over to Route 4 on a summer's Sunday evening after dinner to watch the traffic jam as weekenders in the Catskills attempted to get back to the city at a time before the Thruway and the Tappan Zee Bridge opened.

Old timers from the area recall similar backups along shore roads before the advent of the parkway.

It was such weekend backlogs that, in part, inspired the idea of the Garden State Parkway.

Although the need for such a road had been established, it took a while to become a reality. In 1945, the New Jersey State Legislature passed legislation enabling construction of the 164-mile-long NJ 4 Parkway. The parkway, which was to connect northern New Jersey with resort areas on the Atlantic coast, was proposed in response to growing congestion on major north-south routes such as US 1, US 9 and NJ 35.

With only 18 miles of parkway completed by 1950, financing the remainder of the parkway had become difficult, but officials soon came up with another plan modeled on the successful New Jersey Turnpike. On April 14, 1952, the State Legislature enacted legislation to create the New Jersey Highway Authority, which was to construct, operate and maintain a self-sufficient toll parkway from Paramus to Cape May. Orrie de Nooyer was appointed as the first executive director of the New Jersey Highway Authority. The 1952 legislation also called for the appointment of eight non-salaried commissioners to oversee the project. This legislation also gave the project a new name: the Garden State Parkway.

With new financing backing from the New Jersey Highway Authority, ground was broken for construction of the Garden State Parkway on July 2, 1952. During 1954, one section after another was opened to traffic in time for the summer tourist season. By August of that year, some 80 miles of parkway were opened, providing uninterrupted travel between Irvington and Manahawkin, including the Raritan River Bridge. By late October, the parkway had been completed all the way south to Cape May.

On July 1, 1955, Governor Robert B. Meyner became the first person to cross the Paramus toll plaza, effectively opening the 165 miles of the parkway from Cape May to Paramus. (Because of unforeseen congestion on Route 17 at the northern terminus and extension to the New York State line and the connecting NY State Thruway was quickly planned and built). The opening of the parkway soon created demand for a new ocean-going ferry service connecting the southern terminus of the parkway in Cape May with Lewes, Delaware.

It was during this summer of 1955 that Malcolm Davis took his leisurely July 4 trip on the parkway. Congestion would build as the popularity of the shore did. Development of beach communities intensified, and the rest, well you know all about that part as you sit in traffic these days.

But next time, you're apt to want to complain, just think what it might have been like to snake your way down Route 9 or 35 in "the good old days."

Eric Model explores the "offbeat, off the beaten path overlooked and forgotten" on SIRIUS-XM Radio and at journeysinto.com.