Cliffwood Beach was a top Jersey Shore resort. Now see its remains hiding in the woods

ABERDEEN - At a glance, it’s just a thicket of woods next to the promenade that runs along Raritan Bay in Cliffwood Beach. But look closer, and a bizarre sight comes into view: a two-foot concrete wall with a layer of aqua-blue paint on top.

The paint is badly chipped now, but it’s the tell-tale sign of a glorious past. This is a wall of an Olympic-sized swimming pool that was once the crown jewel of a premier Jersey Shore destination.

A century ago, Cliffwood Beach was a summertime vacationer’s paradise.

“It was the resort,” said Kurtis Roinestad, vice president of the Matawan Historical Society. “This is basically the first stop along the Jersey Shore. Before people had cars and before highways, when people wanted to go to the shore, this is where you came. Cliffwood Beach was a very big hangout.”

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From the Roaring Twenties until the mid-1950s, this narrow strip of land between Raritan Bay and Treasure Lake was home to a mile-long boardwalk, a casino with live shows, some upscale restaurants and a sports complex featuring the region’s only 50-meter saltwater pool. A community of what Roinestad calls “bungalettes” — mini-summer homes — sprang up around it.

“It got to the point where it was so popular that the ferry boats were coming over from Manhattan and Staten Island,” Roinestad said. “When you were coming to the Jersey Shore at that time, this is what you thought of.”

What happened? Why did Cliffwood Beach’s prominence fade into history while contemporary hot spots like Asbury Park and Atlantic City did not? Even Keansburg retains one vestige of its boomtown heyday in the Keansburg Amusement Park.

All that’s left of Cliffwood Beach’s glory is found in old postcards and advertisements — and buried in the woods overlooking the same bay that once drew the masses.

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Tarzan hung out there

After World War I, with Americans looking for leisure and the economy booming, Bayshore real estate firm Morrisey and Walker started building up Cliffwood Beach (then a section of Matawan; now a section of Aberdeen) as an accessible seaside destination.

Anchoring it all was a recreation marvel — a giant outdoor pool filled with saltwater from the bay. Situated on a rise that offered views of Raritan Bay and Treasure Lake, the pool was used for both pleasure and competition, drawing swimming luminaries like Olympians Johnny Weissmuller (who earned enduring fame by starring as the first Tarzan in the movies) and Rutgers great George Kojac.

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The pool was central to what became “Sportland,” a complex of tennis courts, handball courts and other activities. Postcards issued during the 1920s, 1930s and even into the 1950s showcase the pool’s splendor.

Then Mother Nature took over.

“The weather started wiping this place out in the 1950s,” Roinestad said. “There were three hurricanes that hit. The surf washed completely over it.”

The boardwalk, the casino, the summer homes and most of Sportland never recovered. Vacationers, equipped with cars and highways, migrated to points south. The signature Cat ‘n Fiddle Restaurant was rebuilt and carried on until 1969. Matawan officials took charge of the pool and kept it open until the mid-1970s.

“They never demolished it,” Roinestad said. “They eventually abandoned it, and nature took over.”

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'It was like Cliffwood Beach died'

The way Roinestad sees it, Cliffwood Beach’s fortunes fell with the pool.

“When the pool died, it was like Cliffwood Beach died,” he said. “By the 1990s, nobody saw value here.”

Later, after the turn of the millennium, community leaders “were like, ‘wait a minute, you’ve got this beautiful vantage point,’” he said, and built the promenade. An intrepid passerby can spot the resort-town remnants. A trail of Boardwalk pilings are visible during low tide and foundation stones from the casino reside in the wooded area, alongside shards of casino pottery and fine China that “ended up in the soil” thanks to the hurricanes and sometimes surface after rains, Roinestad said.

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None of that is quite so eerie as the wall of the pool. The whole pool is still there, Roinestad said, but it’s filled with foliage that grew tall over the decades. It’s become a massive pot.

“I find it amazing that some paint is still here,” Roinestad said.

Lead paint, no doubt. Another relic of a time gone by.

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Roinestad occasionally gives tours of the area, and one question pops up like a refrain.

“A lot of people think, ‘Why can’t Cliffwood Beach be like that again?'” he said. “A great idea, but it would never really work.”

This area was settled 400 years ago, he explained, and numerous attempts at commercialization failed over the centuries because of one recurring problem.

Sometimes, Mother Nature gets the last word.

Jerry Carino is community columnist for the Asbury Park Press, focusing on the Jersey Shore’s interesting people, inspiring stories and pressing issues. Contact him at jcarino@gannettnj.com.

This article originally appeared on Asbury Park Press: Jersey Shore resort: Cliffwood Beach hiding in the woods