By Kitty Baker
Barkers at games of skill on the Atlantic City Boardwalk used to call out:
“Step right up, folks! Try your luck.”
That was before casinos.
At an Atlantic City hotel recently, the parking valet said, “Good luck.” A bell captain and porter wished me the same. A waiter said, “Here you are, kid. Have a lucky day.”
I was there, not to win a bundle, but to research how the resort changed after the first wooden walk was laid (not for walkers’ comfort, but to keep sand off hotel rugs and out of Pullman coaches).
After 1870, the splendid 24-foot-wide boardwalk had railings, so no one would fall off (as some did, gawking at ladies in the surf). It was anchored down, and a gold spike was pounded in by the mayor’s wife (a plate over it did not prevent the spike from being stolen).
Itchy bathing suits
From the Jacob Leedom Bath House, skinny ladies rented bloomer suits with padded breasts. Fat ladies wore corsets. Beach censors, using measuring sticks, restricted showing too much skin. Stockings were de rigueur. Not until 1940 could men expose bare chests. Our wool bathing suits were itchy and a feast for moths.
Before World War II, we danced to big bands in Steel Pier’s Marine Ballroom, and sang:
It don’t mean a thing if it don’t got that swing.
Doo-wa, doo-wa, doo-wa…
Lady Luck rode with Lorena Carver until she got too heavy to ride the horse that dived from the 60-foot tower into the Steel Pier pool.
For 49 days, Alvin “Shipwreck” Kelly perched, through three thunderstorms, on Steel Pier’s flagpole, on a padded 8-inch automobile brake drum. He earned $100 a day.
GIs move into hotels
During World War II, the military refurbished hotels for training and housing convalescents. From the Boardwalk, people watched troops in formation on the beach. Atlantic City was never the same again.
Lady Luck left the city for Las Vegas and did not return until gambling was narrowly approved by New Jersey voters. Steve Lawrence opened Resorts in 1978, playing craps with the mayor. People fought for seats to play blackjack.
Bally’s Park Place rose from the ashes of the grand Marlborough-Blenheim, which was demolished (using 1,000 pounds of explosives).
And shops opened on Atlantic and Pacific Avenues, where you could hock your valuables if Lady Luck was not blowing on your dice.
