Furman Parker was the youngest of the four Parker brothers whose parents, William Furman, Jr and Julia Abbot brought them up in the early years of the 20th century and taught them all a love of Highlands.
At the time of Furman’s youth, Highlands was a small fishing village perched none too securely on the Shrewsbury River’s edge. it seemed that the whole town and the people in it were dominated by the winding Shrewsbury and wide-blue New York Bay.
As soon as children were able to walk, they paddled around the waters. As the boys grew into young men, they followed the river for fish and clams. Even their amusements came from the waters around them.
So it was with Furman Parker, who told the story of his youth to a reporter back in the 1960s before his death on Aug. 25, 1965. His story was of a native who didn’t like the changes that came about as the town grew in the 1950s and 1960s and people who had sought the solitude and fun of the little town on the river sold their houses up north and settled there, changing the appearance, the population, and the Highlands a kid growing up in the 30s and 40s relished.
As a young boy Furman played on the sandy shores of the bay or bucked the strong Shrewsbury currents. As he grew older he clammed off the tip of Sandy Hook.
It was before the time of outboard motors and he and his friends made two trips a day rowing the seven miles to and from the Hook’s tip. Up in the morning at sunrise and back in the evening as darkness settled over the water.
Later as he grew older he followed the Shrewsbury, raking clams from the river bed. In winter when cold winds blew over the bay and the Shrewsbury froze in its banks the town still drew its livelihood from the water. With saws, Furman and his friends cut huge cakes of ice from the river and clamming went on as usual. On the river nothing was wasted. The cakes of ice were sent to the ice houses of the restaurants and clubs or ice boxes in family kitchens.
Highlighting the summer season were the clam bakes held in the wide fields that dotted old Highlands.
Parker managed many of these affairs. Heavy stones were piled in the center of the field and heated until red hot. Then grasses gathered from the river bottom were pressed on top. As the steam rose fish, clams and lobsters were laid on and quickly covered with thick canvas.
The results had to be tasted to be fully appreciated. After everyone was stuffed to bursting the dancing began and the children played their games on the field’s edges. As many as three hundred people came to these clambakes and the soldiers from Sandy Hook took advantage of a tasty change from army-food.
In those days even the actors who made their homes on Portland road or in Atlantic Highlands seemed to be half sailor. Up shore, in an inlet called Pleasure Bay, a floating theater made its home. Great floating rafts were anchored to the seabed a few yards off shore and Thespians shouted their lines across the water to an audience that lolled on wooden benches on the beach.
Furman Parker spent many a hot summer night on the cool beach watching seagoing actors perform. It was a hardy, vigorous life, this maritime period in the early history of Highlands.
Furman admitted he often longed for the old days. “ Something always seemed to be going on,” he said. “ The town was up to date in those days.”
Even though he preferred Highlands the way it used to be, he declared he could never leave the town. “ One time I moved away from old Highlands for a few years,” he said, “but I just couldn’t stay away from that salt water.”
