The Trophy Case: The Avalon Boat Race Trophy That Came Home 95 Years Later
The trophy that returned home to Avalon. In the background is Princeton Harbor, where it was won in 1928, looking much different now than it did then.
Although a common sight in and around Seven Mile Beach waters these days, No Wake Zones weren’t even a distant thought on a warm Labor Day weekend afternoon in 1928 when a teenaged summer resident from Upper Darby, Pa., won a silver-plated trophy for having the fastest boat in a race on Avalon’s Princeton Harbor.
The harbor, which was sparsely populated at the time, had few boats moored along it. If you aren’t familiar, Princeton Harbor is set between 22nd and 24th streets along Ocean Drive. The 23rd Street Dock, which is the head of Princeton Harbor, has always been a staging area for a variety of seasonal entertainment events on the harbor. Over the years, a water circus, fireworks display, AAU swimming championships, lifeguard races and tryouts as well as boat races, both sail and motor, have been conducted on the harbor.
Motorboat racing was still in the experimental stages in 1928. After all, Ole Evinrude had only introduced his “outboard” propulsion engine about 20 years earlier.
Could Fred Langenheim have ever imagined that the trophy he would win that day – one of an estimated 50 that he collected in his lifetime – would somehow travel from Avalon to New England, then on to South Carolina and Florida before returning to the basin where it was won, and finally on to Fred’s family home on 33rd Street almost 100 years later? Not likely.
This is the story of the amazing voyage that his trophy made before ending up back at the very house to which Langenheim brought it home after winning it, 95 years later.
The Langenheims rank among Avalon’s first families. Literally. They’ve continuously summered in Avalon for more than 130 years, settling in what was then known as the Peermont section of the town, from 25th Street to about 37th Street.
The Langenheim family is also considered photographic royalty, having played key roles in the development of Magic Lantern, an early forerunner of movie projection systems and stereograph viewers, best described as an early 3D glass slide viewing system. The Langenheims were the first publishers of stereo view photographs in the United States.
William and Frederick Langenheim in the mid-1800s were not only Philadelphia’s first professional photographers but were recognized as the most celebrated photographers in the area. Today, their photos of the first total eclipse of the sun in North America since the invention of photography still hang in New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Those family photographic genes might explain the amazing quality of some of the photos used to illustrate this story, almost 100 years later. The photos from Avalon accompanying this story are believed to have been taken by Lawson, Fred’s younger brother.
Fred was born in Harrisburg, Pa., on Aug. 4, 1910, to Agnes and Frederick Ellwood. His father was a civil engineer for the company that provided water service to the City of Harrisburg and was educated at the US Naval Academy, MIT and Harvard. Throughout his childhood, Fred appears on census documents in both Upper Darby, Pa., and Avalon. In March of 1920 the census shows Fred living on 25th Street. He’d eventually graduate from Upper Darby High School and would accept a position with the Campbell Soup Company in Camden. It may have been those formative years spent in Avalon that fed Fred’s interest in boating.
The summer of 1928 was especially successful for Fred and his racing interests. That summer, he’d capture more than a dozen championships including the one on Sept. 1, in his hometown in a boat that was designed and built by the Langenheims. The “A-1,” as it was christened, was powered by an Evinrude 16-horsepower outboard engine. Cutting-edge technology for the day. It appears that young Fred had a need for speed, as he was a charter member of the Mays Landing Racing Drivers Association. The group consisted of 40 boat-racing enthusiasts who conducted 16 championship events from Memorial Day through Labor Day on the waterways from Brigantine to Cape May Point.
Despite his reliable employment at the Campbell Soup Company and love of boat racing, Fred’s professional life pulled him in yet another direction in 1931 when he landed a job as an announcer on WNAC radio in Boston. The fact that Fred’s mother Agnes was born and raised in Massachusetts might have influenced where his broadcasting career began.
As many broadcast professionals did at the time, Fred shortened his on-air name and thus, Fred “Lang” was born. It’s interesting to note that Fred’s on-air moniker at most stations was “Uncle Fred.” Perhaps suggesting the homespun approach, he brought it along to each station he worked for. Over the next several years, he’d continue his radio career in Philadelphia and Duluth, Minn., before finding his way back to New England and Boston, specifically, in 1935. It was here, at the Yankee Network, where Fred’s career took off. He’d spend nearly two decades with Yankee, which at its height boasted 27 affiliated stations throughout New England. The network provided local stations with up to 17 hours of programming a day that included news, play-by-play sports, entertainment, and music. The Yankee Network partnered with CBS for national programming while providing New England-based content for national distribution.
Fred’s many racing trophies almost surely traveled around the country with him because they are almost always mentioned in any station bio or news features written about him. In addition to his boating interests, Fred was said to be a collector of antiques and loved to collect paintings of ships.
Unfortunately, network programming would soon give way to stations more interested in producing live and local programming. The Yankee Network would begin to lose affiliates and finally cease operations. With the demise of Yankee, Fred would spend the last decade of his career at WPLM in Plymouth, Mass.
Fast-forward about 50 years. An antique collector displayed one of Fred’s trophies online. Noticing the inscription of Avalon, N.J., a current resident of Princeton Harbor who writes for Seven Mile Times thought it would make an interesting conversation piece to bring the trophy back to the very basin where it was initially won. The antique dealer couldn’t remember exactly how she came upon it, except that it was at a yard sale in Florida. Regardless, it was on its way back to Avalon.
Last winter, Bob Penrose – a local contractor and president of the Avalon Historical Society – in a casual conversation mentioned some work that he had done in the past on what he referred to as the Langenheim house. “What name did you say?” the current trophy owner asked. “Langenheim,” Penrose responded. Something about that name sounded familiar. The trophy, which now occupied a space in a comfortable storage closet, was retrieved. Bingo! The name on the trophy read: F.H. Langenheim. What are the chances that the family of the man who won this trophy almost a century ago still lived in Avalon? Crazy, right?
It was obvious that the house was probably closed for the winter. Nonetheless, the Seven Mile Times kept a vigil, looking for a sign for when someone might be at home. Finally, during the summer there was a person working in the yard. With trophy in hand, the writer walked into the yard. Suddenly from behind came a voice, “Can I help you?” The explanation began: “I know this sounds crazy, but here’s this trophy and I was wondering if this is the same Langenheim family as lives in this house?” Pausing to look it over, John Langenheim said, “Yep, that was my uncle. You are feeling adverturish?” “Sure!” After all, this is Avalon, so why not?
John Langenheim then led the way before warning, “Be careful, OK?” With that, Langenheim opened a cellar door to a home that was obviously more than 100 years old. And how many homes on the Seven Mile Beach – or any barrier island, for that matter – have actual basements or cellars?
Langenheim briskly led the way past footings that were probably set in the very earliest days of Seven Mile Beach. He led the way to the front of the house, where he adjusted an overhead bulb for better visibility. Pointing to the ground about 6 feet ahead, back against the house foundation, he said, “See it there?” Although difficult to make out completely in the low lighting, it was obvious what he was pointing to. “That’s the boat that probably won that trophy!” he said. Unbelievable!
So again, what are the chances? A well-traveled trophy makes its way back to where it was won nearly a century earlier and the boat pilot’s family still lives in the house … AND the boat is still there in the basement.
Regardless of what your thoughts are on coincidences, and how and why they happen, it became evident quickly that the trophy belonged right there – in that house. The place to which Fred Langenheim brought it home on Sept. 1, 1928. And given Fred’s affinity for fast boats and antiques, you’ve got to believe that he’d be satisfied that his trophy finally made it back home. Albeit a little slower than Fred was used to operating. And with no wake.