Those Fabulous 1950s in the Wildwoods

Elvis was on The Ed Sullivan Show, Republicans sported I Like Ike buttons and Doo-Wop, a musical sound unlike any other, was the rage in South Philly.  Colors were garish, plastic was in and cars had big fins and even bigger gas tanks.  It was the 1950s and life was good.  The country was at peace and prosperous. The GIs were home, buying three-bedroom houses in subdivisions that sprouted overnight and driving out of car dealerships in a family sedan, a gigantic station wagon or a luxury car with push button transmission.  And where did they drive these gas-guzzling-V8's when the wife and two kids wanted a change from the cookie-cutter neighborhoods in the suburbs?

To the shore, of course. Or, more specifically, to Wildwood.  And the Wildwoods were ready with fake palm trees, pink flamingos and neon signs.  Motels with flamboyant color schemes and fantasy names shrieked from every corner, enticing tired travelers with promises of pools, color television and air conditioning -- the stuff of dreams for the average American family in the 1950s.

Soon, the Doo Wop sounds of the 1950s music scene became the definition for everything of the era, especially the architecture.  Motels created a fantasy image with exotic names like Shalimar, Hialeah, Royal Hawaiian Tangiers, and Caribbean. No one in the 1950s ever expected to actually go to Hawaii or even the Caribbean but spending their two-week vacation in a motel with a foreign name made them feel just a tad more worldly.

Shades of turquoise,  usually accented with pink,  highlighted buildings and cars. Neon signs, often with not-so-subliminal messages, vied for the attention of drivers and passengers as they cruised around the resort.  Angular signs, often with exaggerated lettering, urged motorists to pull in,  while other motels sported amoeba-shaped, amorphous blobs that was
the design of choice for signs and other items of the era, including the living room coffee table.

Americans loved their cars.  Driving was in; walking was out. Women learned how to drive.  Living in the suburbs with no public transportation -- not that anyone actually wanted to take a bus -- the car was the family's link to shopping, recreation and vacations. Everyone wanted to drive everywhere and they only considered getting out of their cars when absolutely necessary. When they did have to leave their car they expected to park as close as possible to wherever it was they were going.

Soon, rural areas and farmlands were paved over for parking lots to support the shopping centers that sprung up on the outskirts of every town.  Drive-through restaurants provided waitresses on roller skates to take orders from a rolled-down car window and with minutes the agile carhop return with a special tray that clamped right on the door, piled high with fries, shakes and burgers. Diners, catering to family tastes and budgets, sprang up along the highways and in towns across America and retained their popularity until Ray Kroc decided that Americans, cars and fast food were a natural combination and he opened his first McDonald's.

Drive-in movies were another hit of the automobile age.  Willing to give up the comfort of a theater, families piled into cars and headed to the likes of the Wildwood Drive-In, where a huge screen and car speakers, both of dubious quality,  passed for family fun. The Wildwood Drive In could accommodate 500 cars and,  despite its name,   it was actually located on Route 47 in Rio Grande.  The landmark was vacant for many years and was finally torn down some years ago to make way for a shopping center.

Today, carhops and drive-in movies are history,  but in Wildwood the fake palm trees, the pink flamingos and about a hundred DooWop era motels with their gaudy colors, fantasy names and space-age architecture recall an era when Elvis was the King, rock and roll was the rage and a vacation meant two glorious weeks in Wildwood.