The approach to New York was a killing ground. Between eighteen thirty-nine and eighteen forty-eight, one hundred and fifty-eight vessels were lost on the New Jersey coast — one every three weeks, on average, for a decade. Most of them were sailing ships crowded with immigrants coming in from Liverpool and Le Havre and the Rhine. Most of the wrecks were night wrecks. Most were caused by winter northeasters that drove ships off the shipping lanes and onto a shoreline that from Sandy Hook to Cape May does not have a single natural harbor deep enough to shelter a full-rigged vessel.
The bodies washed up on the beach. In the years before the federal government built the life-saving stations, the towns on the coast handled the dead the way rural towns handle any disaster — locally, awkwardly, without money. This chapter is about how that changed. It is the shore's great working-class heroism story, and — for about seventy years — the entire relationship between the federal government and the people who lived on this coast.
Placeholder narrative for the Phase 0 prototype. Real copy will draw from the U.S. Life-Saving Service annual reports (1875-1915, digitized by NARA), Ralph Shanks and Wick York's The U.S. Life- Saving Service (1996), the NPS Spermaceti Cove and Sandy Hook Station files, and the 1907 Edmund J. Phinney rescue photographs held by NPS Gateway.