Saltaire Summery
Volume 49, Issue 1
By Hugh OBrien

That thick pall of black smoke roiling upwards from what was once a pleasant little seaside community can signify only one thing: barbecuing has arrived in Saltaire! Preceded by several loud ka-booms accompanied by billowing, and cheerfully colorful, red, yellow and orange fireballs.
Yes, on April 1, of all appropriate dates, the VOS became (apparently) the last jurisdiction on Fire Island (a name to which we now append our little mite of irony) to legalize the dreaded g-word, or rather the practice thereof. (Grilling.) Maybe the last in the entire world, for all we know. The weird thing about it all is that, after years of gut-wrenching, community-ripping, boiled-vs.-broiled-hot-dog-induced strife, the final passage, when it came in December, went so quickly and quietly that literally almost no one in attendance at that Board meeting (60 or more) even noticed. People came up afterwards, or phoned the village office next day, to ask what had happened to “the barbecue vote.” T.S. Elliot may have had something with that “but a whimper” stuff; let us trust he was also not in error with his immediately preceding phrase about “not with a bang.” Please, fellow barbecuers (in spirit if not in practice, as of yet): no bangs! No bangs! The fire department has enough crises to cope with, like scheduling the pancake breakfast.
Which breakfast will NOT be held this Memorial Day. Like last year, the SVFC has adopted a Labor-Day-only pancake breakfast regimen. But we’ll try some acceptable substitute, a little later on. I think.
However, for a brief recap of some of the musts and musn’ts born-again bbq’ers must not mess with: remember, you will need an Official-Looking Permit from the Village Government in order to exercise your new-found culinary freedom. Inquire at said office, 583-5566. For now, only propane-powered grills are allowed. The permit application lays out all the necessary ground rules and permitted uses. Applications may be made for seasonal (4/1-11/1) or year-round (4/1-3/31) usage. Hours of operation are 12 noon to 9:00 p.m. daily. The Fire Marshal has leave to inspect homes for any violations. Tanks for grills, mosquito magnets, or household ones in excess of 80 lbs., must be registered. $350,000 worth of new telescreens have been ordered and will be installed across town to monitor compliance with this and the new code section 38-21, Bedroom Curtains Prohibited. Oh...uh, forget you read that part. All this aside, it’s important that the Village and Fire Co. know of the presence of propane tanks on any given premises, so in an emergency the situation can be properly handled – removing the tanks from a fire area, for instance, and making sure people are evacuated from the immediate vicinity for their protection – regardless of whether the fire had anything directly to do with the tanks. They can still blow up in a fire caused by something else, of course. Saltaire has had two such fires in recent months, at the Mayers’ Pacific home last October and at the Higgins house on Anchor just three weeks ago: neither resulted from anything to do with gas, but we needed to be sure of the presence – or absence – of it in each case. In both instances, the homes were saved and the sites successfully secured. Should a similar crisis happen in a barbecued home – unhappily, a certainty, rather than a possibility, however many years away it may prove to be – lives will be saved and property preserved only if the firemen on scene know before arriving that they’ll have to deal with this potentially life-taking hazard.
Otherwise, enjoy your grills!
Well, one more note: last summer I wrote here that legalized barbecuing seemed inevitable, and that the thing to do now was for pros and antis to reach a modus vivendi; that allowing its advent wouldn’t prove to be quite as destructive to the Saltaire Way Of Life as feared, anymore than the arrival of pools, the ambulance, security patrols, even phones and electricity in their day, were; that we’d eventually, and probably rapidly, adjust ourselves and live together in reasonable harmony once the initial shocks had been gotten through. (Little did I realize I’d hear this stuff quoted back at the September Board meeting.) I still think the same holds true, but it does depend on everyone making a bit of an effort, mostly in being considerate of your neighbors, even ones who own a grill but may not be using it when you are. So, please keep the noise down, observe basic safety procedures, don’t let any attending intoxic-ees elbow their way into operating the equipment, and generally just do everything you can not to intrude upon others’ privacy. I suspect that by 2006 no one’ll think twice about the issue – won’t even be an issue. Maybe even by August.
And besides, what a relief to generations of village politicians! No more bobbing and weaving, ducking and covering, hemming and hawing, yessing and no-ing, trying to stay in the good graces of both sides of the issue, dodging behind phony questionnaires and procedural votes, quaking and shaking at the notion they’d actually have to take a hard and permanent stance on the matter. Whew! Now we can get back to the graft.
Elsewhere, it’s been a very slow season to start. You know, really slow. Everyone remarks that it seems either like late March or early October, thanks to the weather, but even so people seem to be slogging through the motions of opening up and getting the season going. I mean, next week’s the Fourth of July already. The Club is open, two weeks earlier than ever. Nine people have shown up. Five of them the same members, twice. Tom Field is back as managing manager of the place this summer, as the Club goes it alone in its restaurant and bar ops after several years tied in with The Out. And for the first time in recorded history, Carole Sirovich has a Club title that does not contain the word “tennis,” namely, Commodore, a just reward for her years of indefatigable service in the thickets of the tennis jungle. At least it was intended as a reward. Time may alter Carole’s perception of this particular honor. This coming Sunday’s opening p.m. cocktail party will officially inaugurate the SYC’s 94th summer schedule, after which the joint will stay open weekends-only till late June, when we switch to the daily grind, to be detailed closer to the time. It’s Wednesdays I’m looking forward to.
Incidentally, members, a strong hint – suggestion? – command! – that you attend this Sunday’s do. Something long-overdue will occur. Really. Vuggum!
Elsewhere on assorted civic fronts, we report that the next generation of Saltaire directories impends, the 2005-2006 issue hot off the cold press any day now, chock full of updates, rewrites, addenda, errata and assorted etcetera in what may be the best issue yet. Thanks be primarily to SCAA chair Clare Briody, aided and abetted by her hard-working editorial staff, Liv Hempel and Geri DiCostanzo. I’ve seen Jim Wikso’s photos for this issue, and they are as good as, in some cases even exceed, those of his in the ‘02-‘03 book. Plan is to distribute them this weekend, somewhere within spitting distance of the Market/Village Hall area, if your inclinations run to the unsanitary.
Oh, yes, the usual village services will be around again this summer, but as the summer sked won’t begin for another month or so (twice-weekly garbage pick-up, lifeguards, the P.O., and so on), we won’t clutter the chit-chat and gossip with useful information before everyone’s ready to digest it. Good metaphors. But, one item that will arrive around the same time as the directories (same printer) are our new Saltaire-brand info placards, now five in number, also likely to be distributed to all households beginning this weekend, or shortly thereafter, like November, including a new one featuring selected rules & regs for your observational pleasure, most notably re the aforementioned BBQ junk. Fashionably color-coordinated cards, I might add. Such an artistic administration.
One municipal item of melancholy note must be mentioned now, however – the retirement and all-too-hasty departure of Joe Rosabella, after 18 years’ service to the village, this past winter. Joe officially retired Jan. 15 and fled to Florida about six hours later, right after his farewell dinner at Molly Malone’s. (That is not a joke: may even have been more like five hours.) It was a great farewell party, though, with lots of Joe’s friends, fans and co-workers, most of whom had no idea the others existed (all right, no letters – that’s a joke), wining and dining and toasting and roasting Joe through the evening. And as if the Almighty wanted to pull a joke of His own, the group had barely been seated when, bang! – the lights went out all over the restaurant. How appropriate a send-off was that for Joe, the village’s electrician? Happily, Joe ignored the urgings of the crowd that he “get up and do something” to restore the power, and after about 45 minutes of dining in the dark (inserting soup spoons in the wine and sticking forks in the tablecloth), the electricity came back on and the main course could comfortably commence. (I hope nothing similar occurs when, say, Larry Slack, our water and sewer engineer, retires.) In his nearly two decades working for Saltaire, Joe became a popular, respected and relied-upon institution for the residents of this village, someone who made this place run, part of the best crew of people ever to work out here, keeping the village, quite literally, together. Joe worked hard, was always helpful, was honest and dedicated – the epitome of what any Saltairian should be. He is missed. (We’d hoped to have him back here, working this summer, as he wanted to, but for various reasons this is not to be; perhaps 2006, if more favorable conditions then prevail?) But for now we still hope for a visit.
And some people want to fire everyone and “outsource” [an overused non-word employed by chuckleheads who think it makes them sound impressive and business-like] everything done in this village. Try it, and see how long this place works. Saltaire ain’t no 9-to-5 jobsite. Anyway, our grateful thanks to you, Joe. We still need you.
Congratulations to... Associate Village Justice Hillary Richard & Peter McCabe on the birth of Joanna Alexandra Blair McCabe, March 3, 2005... On another Alexandra front, Alexandra Davis married Mahmoud Mohammad Hassan, a student from Egypt, this winter, and a second George Davis daughter, Meredith, an art teacher at Ramapho College in N.J., and her s.o. Adam Fowler became the proud parents of Phineas Fowler, G.D.’s first grandchild... Got amazing reports of Dave Bear’s Rio de Janeiro wedding three weeks back, announced in this space last summer, and attended by quite a coterie of VOSers voyaging southward soon after the local hemisphere’s vernal equinox... Have trouble getting into the center of town last Saturday? Blame the crowds on hand for Luke Goldstein’s bar mitzvah, probably the most felicitous and well-attended ceremony seen in these parts in many a year, followed by a terrific celebration at the YC, done with style and all stops resolutely pulled out. Special congratulations to Luke, a great guy... And we would be unforgivingly remiss were we to unforgivingly miss acknowledging the 100th birthday, April 6, of our former resident and still good pal, Jean Kolars, who celebrated with dinner out with family and who, we’re told, sends her best to all her friends on these shores.
Note for posterity: I have in my hand the results of two critical athletic events dating from 2004: the 6th Annual Soccer Cup and the 10K Run. They’ve been sitting in my “Don’t Forget This Stuff For The First Column of 2005, You Idiot!” basket on the desk out here all winter. But the space/time continuum is compressing as press time starts to press in, so, with apologies to Ralph and the SCAA, we’ll hold this off till next issue in two weeks, when we’ll really need the copy.
At that time, too, we’ll recall with sadness and with fond remembrance, the friends and neighbors we, as a community as well as individuals, lost over this past year– the most unsought duty of them all.
But welcome back... and can we try to become a less confrontational bunch this year? A lot of us miss the old days, in that way anyhow.