The sign at the entrance to the park at Mayo Beach on the Chesapeake Bay revealed that the area was closed for the day. Of course, I was disappointed. It was the fall of 2022 and I had been invited by my friend Donato for lunch to enjoy German food and music for Oktoberfest in a country restaurant near the small town of Edgewater, Maryland, near the Bay. I had not been a great fan of attending German cultural events. However, over time, my attitude had changed. (After all, it had been over 80 years since I had to leave Germany because of the Holocaust, and much of Germany had come to terms with the horrors that they implemented during those years.) Donato and I had a great time singing along with the orchestra at the top of our voices. Since Donato knew the accordion player, he was asked to join the group on stage and sing with them. He received a great deal of applause.
After our meal of wine, schnitzel, and sauerkraut, one of our fellow diners told me that Mayo Beach was just a few blocks away. I remembered hearing about this beach when I first came to the United States in 1941. At the time, there was no bridge spanning the Chesapeake Bay, and most everybody from Washington, DC, went to the private beaches on the west side of the Bay. The closest beaches were North Beach, Mayo Beach, Triton Beach, and Beverly Beach.
The reason that I never visited these beaches after I arrived here in the United States from Germany and France was that Jewish people were not allowed. Most of the signs at the entrances of the parks said “Gentiles only” and “No dogs allowed.” However, not being permitted to go to the beach was not a catastrophe for me as a young girl. I was so happy to be here in America with my parents—able to attend public school, have friends, go to the movies, and attend synagogue without any antisemitism. It was a wonderful feeling at the time.
But here I was in my 82nd year of being in the United States, finally standing at the entrance of Mayo Beach, excited to go in, and the sign said that the beach was closed. There was no one around and we drove straight to the parking lot. I jumped out of the car and ran as fast as I could toward the water. While I was running, I did not notice the Anne Arundel County ranger trying to get my attention. When we finally met, she told me the reason the beach was closed was that a wedding party had rented the park, and that it was a private affair. I proceeded to explain why it was so important for me to be on this beach. Ariana, the ranger, was excited to hear my story and had heard about the signs. She shared with me that in the 19th and 20th centuries, vacationers from congested areas boarded steamboats and trains, seeking recreation and relaxation along the shores of the Chesapeake Bay. However, the opening of the Bay Bridge in 1952, integration of the beaches after the enactment of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, and a ban on slot machines in 1968 all contributed to the demise of these private resorts and summer enclaves. After, Ariana consented to my walking on the beach.
While walking on the beach, my spirit was refreshed. I had a sense of euphoria because I was walking on this beach for me, the young girl, and all the Jewish people that had been forbidden to visit it because they were not Gentiles. My heart was filled with deep emotions. Times had changed.
This experience gave me a feeling of profound pleasure and an intense sensation of peace, both inward and outward. I was happy that I was alive and that I had been able to grow old to see the changes here on this beach. I knew that I had the support of my large family who would continue to contribute to society by having an open mind and a deep understanding of everything that humankind has in common. I was open to all the goodness that surrounded me.
Ariana invited me to come back to see Beverly Beach, where new trails and other renovations were in process. She said that she would give me a tour and would do some research on articles and signs that dealt with antisemitism before 1963. When we parted, we agreed to keep in touch via email.
We emailed numerous times and finally agreed that we would get together at my home. She wanted to record some of my story, and I wanted to have some of the material she had found that dealt with the history of antisemitism at the beaches.
When we finally met at my house in January, it was a pleasure to see her sitting on my couch in the living room that had seated my entire family as they were growing up. The framed faces of my three daughters in large paintings smiled at the scene below. Ariana brought me many photos and a book called Chesapeake’s Western Shore: Vintage Vacationland. She also brought one of her colleagues, another young ranger. We enjoyed learning from each other and decided to keep in touch.
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A sign that was posted outside a beach club in Maryland in the 1940s. Courtesy of the Jewish Museum of Maryland, JMM 1995.201.005
The “Gentiles Only” sign represented a way of life in the 1940s. I suppose it made sense to those who displayed these signs, those who followed these rules, and those who never complained about them. We have come a long way towards addressing some of our issues regarding race, color, and religion. However, we have much more to do. We need to continue to condemn hate crimes. We must never consider that antisemitism is normal. We must never consider that hatred of any group that is different from ours is normal. We learned from the Holocaust what hatred can lead to. We cannot ignore it. We have to take action to confront hate. After all, the DNA of any two people on earth is about 99.6 percent the same—yes, all human beings share about 99.6 of our DNA. So, as I say at the end of my talks to students who come to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, “Let us be sensitive to each other, take care of each other, and celebrate what we have in common.”
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Since writing the above, times have changed again. We were all grief-stricken by the horrific events in Israel when Hamas murdered and took Jews as hostages in October 2023. The war between Israel and Hamas is leaving many of us in despair. Antisemitism has grown all over the world again. However, we have to hold fast to the belief that a better future is possible, even though we do not see the way yet. There is cause for hope. We have to be careful not to become desensitized, and we must learn to listen to each other and be good to each other.
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