[Congressional Record Volume 143, Number 35 (Tuesday, March 18, 1997)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E493-E494]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




          TRIBUTE TO FRANK VALENTINO, POET OF THE JERSEY SHORE

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                           HON. FRANK PALLONE

                             of new jersey

                    in the house of representatives

                        Tuesday, March 18, 1997

  Mr. PALLONE, Mr. Speaker, I am very proud to represent a section of 
the Jersey

[[Page E494]]

Shore which has great historic significance as a summer home of seven 
Presidents and an inspiration for, and birthplace of, many great 
writers, poets, artists, and musical talents.
  One contemporary local poet is Frank Valentino and his fine poetry 
about the Jersey Shore has inspired me to tell my colleagues a little 
about him and about my seashore district.
  For many years, my hometown of Long Branch was the choice of 
Presidents and Vice Presidents as a retreat for relaxation and 
contemplation, and occasionally, I must admit, for a little gambling.
  Starting in 1869 with Ulysses S. Grant and for the next 40 years it 
was the summer capital for Presidents. Rutherford B. Hayes, Benjamin 
Harrison, and William McKinley were frequent visitors. After being 
critically-wounded, President James Garfield demanded to be taken to 
Long Branch, where he died in 1881. In spite of his short term in 
office, Chester Arthur found the time for visits to Long Branch. And 
Woodrow Wilson made a West Long Branch estate, which is now Monmouth 
University, a gathering place for leaders and intellectuals of his 
time.
  Nearby Asbury Park, which is this week celebrating its 100th 
birthday, has its own illustrious history. This seashore town boasts 
author Stephen Crane as a son and has the more recent distinction as 
the source of inspiration for musician Bruce Springsteen. Many other 
entertainment greats frequented Asbury Park in the old days, including 
Frank Sinatra and Count Basie who performed for the thousands of summer 
visitors who flocked there.
  While the Jersey Shore has changed over the years, it is still 
inspiring talents who are, in turn, rekindling pride and a great sense 
of history in the area.
  Poet Frank Valentino grew up in Long Branch and still lives in 
Monmouth County. He is the author of three books of poetry and is the 
founder of Food for Thought Benefit Poetry Reading, an annual event 
which results in huge donations of food to local food banks. He also 
conducts many voluntary readings and poetry workshops in schools, 
clubs, and libraries to impart a love of poetry and local lore to our 
young people.
  It is to applaud his good work, and to share a little of luster of 
the Jersey Shore, that I include two of his poems for my colleagues and 
others to appreciate:

                        The Sands of Long Branch

     Time drifts like a sea gull in the breeze
     Years fall like waves upon the beach,
     The old stone statute of one of the seven
     Looks out to the east.

     Walking along the coast at dawn I gaze
     Out upon the horizon,
     Feet in the sand of Long Branch and the voices
     Of Seven Presidents echoes in the warm Summer wind.

     Seven Presidents have walked along the sand of this
     Old city by the sea,
     They stood along the shore and gazed at the incoming tides
     And sifted sand from the beach through their hands.

     Long Branch at dawn and the sun rises behind the clouds
     Thoughts of then and now hang in the pink blue mist,
     Sand castles are swept away and the old stone statue of
     One of the seven looks out to the east.

                            Asbury Park 1971

     Neon lights flash like lightning
     The smell of the ocean hangs heavy,
     The sand coated streets shine in the mist
     Of a hot Jersey Shore summer night.

     The dancers sweat in the dark as they carve
     Their dreams on the wood of the boardwalk
     Tonight,
     The guitar player's name is Springsteen
     And the music and words sound like thunder.

     Another cold beer and the poets mark their
     Lines in the sand as the Gypsy lady pulls
     The curtain closed.

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