A Point in Time

From far across the Atlantic, hand-hewn ships of every size and shape eventually found their way to the eastern edges of a vast continent. Broader a land than they could ever imagine lay between one ocean and the other. Some came looking for shorter routes to already discovered and distant lands but instead found a far grander paradise to explore. 

The long extension of New Jersey’s peninsula was obvious and noted by several early explorers. Rough maps were drawn as they traversed the eastern coastline and up any river they could navigate. They recorded a dense and wild world of wooded thickets, massive impassable cedar swamps, inland ponds, creeks, and abundant wildlife. Along its ocean edge lay long stretches of barrier islands with windswept dunes and at the peninsula tip, a sandy beach perimeter along the broad Delaware Bay and a vast sea beyond. 

Those who first explored this quiet oasis found a dense interior, but the coast was approachable. Some came by boat or eventually down long winding dirt trails to hunt the plentiful and lucrative whales. Little cottages were hand built and nestled in among woods for long seasons of bounty, some cottages were on the shore. Fish were abundant and the waterfowl was endless. In the course of time, rooming houses and inns sprung up and supplied food and shelter while local pubs and ales smoothed out weary muscles. The small hamlet of Cape May City was rapidly taking shape as the country moved forward through the 18th century and into the 19th. Cape Island was clearly on the map.  

On the tippiest tip of the peninsula a vision of a different kind of seaside town was also taking shape, though it would take many years for it to manifest through an aging Alexander Whilldins. The site of what is now Cape May Point was originally included in the purchase of a broad piece of land owned by Jonathan Pyne in the late 1600s. The property was passed down to his son of the same name and to Abigail Pyne and her husband. From there the property was deeded to Henry Stites in 1712. From then on, the Point was known as Stites Beach and was left undeveloped and wild. It remained in the family and was absorbed into the marriage of Henry’s daughter Jane Stites to Alexander Whilldins. 

Whilldins was born in Philadelphia in 1808. His father was a native of New Jersey who had a passion for sailing the seas. During a return trip across the Atlantic from France in 1812, Alexander’s father disappeared. No trace of humans or ship was ever found. Alexander was fatherless at the age of four, and his mother returned to their homestead near Cape May Court House with three children in tow. Alexander was educated by simple country schools and lived a quiet farm life in the southern area of New Jersey over the next 12 years, and he decided to return to Philadelphia when he was 16. Competent and eager, he worked his way into his own business selling cotton and wool and was associated with Presbyterian Hospital and other philanthropic institutions.

The common ground and love for southern New Jersey that Jane and Alexander shared kept them connected to the large estate and undeveloped portion of Stites land Jane had inherited in 1840. The couple often retreated from city life to enjoy the tranquility of this country homestead and its sea breezes. That home still stands today at 609 Sea Grove Avenue, and its adjoining 521 acres cover what we know now as Cape May Point. Most of that land between them and the sea lay primitive and thick, private and reclusive. A lake, much larger than Lake Lily is today, sat within its perimeter near their home, and ponds were scattered throughout as well. We can imagine the hikes or horse rides the Whilldins often took through the sanctuary such a place provided.  

The Whilldins were not drawn to the boisterous life Cape May City was growing into. Alexander comments “with regret, the increase of a bad fashion which renders the season for rest and health-giving resort and nature are but a wearying round of dissipation.” 

Alexander and Jane began to envision a different reprieve and destination, one on holy ground. They may have been swayed by Christian influence through the “camp meetings” that were springing up all around them. Large tents were pitched in fields or farmland or in woods or by the sea where Christians gathered for days to hear preaching and engage in deep prayer. Accommodations were minimal. It was not for the prim and proper seeker but the one who needed to get alone in nature and hear God’s word and thought. The Whilldins may have heard of (and likely visited) Ocean Grove Camp Meeting that had been established in 1869 just up the coast at another Jersey seashore destination, Ocean City.

The entrepreneur in Whilldins was imagining something similar—not a temporary encampment but an established community of similar values and intention. The Whilldins had the land and perfect seaside environment to birth such a vision. Alexander was now 70. Steeped in conviction and brimming with imagination of “what could be” they formed The West Cape May Land Company in 1872 and the Sea Grove Association in 1875. 

Two other significant men were drawn into Sea Grove with the Whilldins: John Wanamaker and James Sidney. Wanamaker had strong spiritual convictions and a good sense of business like the Whilldins, and Sidney had a unique landscape and the architectural eye to wrangle such a wild place. 

And so began an endeavor to level 250 acres of forests and brush along with rambling dunes to give way for 981 proposed building lots and a permanent gathering spot for summertime preaching and spiritual reprieve. 

Sidney’s birds eye vision of such a community resembled the spokes on a wheel. With his faith being the focal point of the unfolding of this spiritual community, it was only fitting that a house of worship be at its epicenter. A large circular park was created halfway between Cape Island Turnpike (now known as Sunset Boulevard) and the beachfront. This would be the main road into this future community and “The Pavillion” would be an impressive wooden, open-air, circular tabernacle that could seat 2,000 for preaching and worship. Once built, it was quite a sight to behold as visitors turned off the turnpike and came down the main thoroughfare of Cape Avenue on horseback or by carriage. From atop the huge bell tower most of the community was in view, with the streets radiating out from this central destination. 

Traveling down the Delaware River on steamships or by train winding through the state, many made their way to this broad peninsula. Hot steamy summers inland and crowded city neighborhoods drew people to the sea. Sea Grove was a cloistered respite. Peace and quiet. Holy words and time to ponder. There were no taverns or restaurants. No shops or arcades. Sea Grove House, the community’s first hotel, sat atop a manmade bluff overlooking the sea. Whilldins and Wanamaker built themselves new homes as well. Some homes were small and quaint, others large and impressive. Each was a treasure for those who valued seaside living within a quiet and safe community.

Yet Sea Grove was perhaps too restrictive for the majority. Abiding by their morals and principles, they struggled to attract enough residents and businesses. In 1878 Sea Grove’s name was changed to Cape May Point and it continued to sit somewhat idle and remote while Cape May City expanded and rose in popularity. 

One of the greatest mistakes in Sea Grove’s early development was to dismantle its environmental structure. It was the norm in those times to take away the underbrush and woods and level the massive dunes to give front row seats to all who desired that exclusive ocean view. With that strong natural defense obliterated, the community was exposed to all elements of weather without dunes, shrubs, and trees to absorb a storm’s rising waters and winds. As fast as Sea Grove took flight, it also began to descend for a variety of reasons. The restrictive nature of the community and the lack of any defense from storms minimized those willing to invest. And in due time, the storms came and washed away both beaches and homes and with it, all of South Cape May to the east of Sea Grove.

Yet what remains is unique and precious in this place now called Cape May Point, the smallest borough in New Jersey. If Alexander and Jane Whilldins could stroll the streets of their land today, I’m sure they’d be pleased with the tenacity of this tiny community. Still dry, since liquor sales or establishments don’t exist there, this quiet community is a mix of preserved historic homes and some newfangled ones. The Point mindset is not concerned with all the commercial bells and whistles to attract tourists. In fact, it prefers not to attract crowds. Its small-town feel still runs deep, and most residents know each other.

The post office is a popular place to not only pick up mail but catch up with long-term residents and friends, and the beaches where most gather as well follow suit. The Circle Park remains where the Pavillion once stood. It’s also a wonderful meeting place for dog walks, frisbee throwing, community summer picnics and games, low key concerts, 4th of July parades, Christmas caroling, and New Years Eve song and celebration. It’s so refreshing to find remnant treasure of the past that’s slow in its design and way of life.  There are no restaurants or any shops or businesses. No hotels or motels. No bars or bath houses or public bathrooms or parking lots. It’s designed to accommodate those who live or rent there, not tourism or crowds.

The crowning jewel is the effort by both the governing body of the Point in unity with its residents to reestablish the environment that was lost in the development of Sea Grove. The community has rebuilt their dunes to an impressive dense habitat of native trees, bushes, grasses and wildflowers that help fill in the beaches on one side and protect the whole of the community from rising seas and hurricanes on the other side. Yards are full of trees and bushes and minimal lawns with feeders for birds and gardens for butterflies. Lake Lily flourishes with lily pads and waterfowl of all kinds and skating on a frozen pond is a sight to behold.  

The Whilldins would likely find joy in what their beloved land and homestead has become. Their values and intentions are deeply rooted in this community. And though the Pavillion was dismantled, several quaint little churches still circle its perimeter with prayers and song.