CRUSHED: Bayman Bill “Duckman” Fetzer, member of the North Oyster Bay Baymen’s Association, displays one of the few surviving barrels used to incubate the public’s clam and oyster seeds after the alleged destruction of the system by town workers. (Photo: Christopher Twarowski/Long Island Press)

Shellfishing Company Pays $2,100 Per Year For 6-Acre, Prime Town-Owned Waterfront Property and Dock Space For Fleet

Public’s Clam And Oyster Seed Incubators Intentionally Destroyed By Town, Allege Baymen

Hydraulic And Suction Dredging Of Oyster Bay National Wildlife Refuge Continues, Despite Environmental Concerns

Bill Painter and Bill Fetzer can do little but shake their heads and inspect the wreckage.

Three raft-like clam seed incubators, called Floating Upweller Systems—FLUPSYs, for short—drift lifeless in the waters off the Theodore Roosevelt Memorial Park boat ramps in Oyster Bay. It’s here Painter, Fetzer and about 70 other baymen who still scratch a living by raking hard clams and oysters off the bottom of Oyster Bay Harbor grow the public’s annual crop of four million mollusks to maturity before distributing them throughout the breathtaking, though sometimes unforgiving, waters.

Each barge holds up to 12 blue 50-gallon barrels the baymen fashioned with screens and interlaced with a network of tubes and pipe work encompassing a motorized water filtration system, spending thousands of dollars and countless hours in the process.

Instead of teeming with life, however—millions of dollars worth of clams, says James Schultz, president of the North Oyster Bay Baymen’s Association, of which Painter and Fetzer are members—the FLUPSYs lie impotent and barren, devoid of a single shell. Their motors remain silent, disconnected wires strewn in tangled heaps upon the dock. Two large blue barrels with homemade tubing protruding from their sides sit atop the mess, unattached, with a thin skin of algae. The cordoned, empty basins are thick with muddied swill, uncirculated and stagnant.

“This is our livelihood,” says a disheartened and angry Painter, a father of two who’s been working these waters for nearly three decades.

Fetzer, known as “Duckman” among clam-diggers [many of the baymen have nicknames], who’s been working Oyster Bay Harbor for more than 30 years, grabs one of the barrels and lifts it up.

“Now that the FLUPSYs are not working, we can’t better ourselves, we have no product to grow,” he laments. “We might lose years.

Bill Painter of the North Oyster Bay Baymen’s Association inspects what’s left of the system used to incubate the public’s annual crop of clam and oyster seeds. (Photo by: Christopher Twarowski/Long Island Press)

“This is all the product that we would be harvesting from three years from now,” he continues. “We’re upset about it and the residents should be upset about it because we’re also putting it out for the taxpayers so that father and son, mother and daughter can go get clams and have a nice dinner for themselves.”

“We just lost a whole growing season,” says Schultz. “That adds up to hundreds of thousands of dollars that’s [not] going back into the bay for the general public to harvest.”

What makes the FLUPSY system’s destruction that much more tragic is that it wasn’t caused by an act of Mother Nature, allege the baymen, but rather the Town of Oyster Bay itself—“payback,” they claim, for the baymen association’s June 2011 filing of an ongoing $750 million lawsuit against the municipality and Frank M. Flower & Sons, the last of the big, old commercial shellfishing operations still permitted to hydraulically dredge in Oyster Bay Harbor. The complaint alleges a host of misdeeds by the town and oyster company, ranging from claims Flower has been harvesting naturally occurring clams and oysters illegally (natural-growth shellfish belong to the state, and therefore, the public) from underwater beds leased from the town and those lawfully protected for the public, to environmental concerns regarding the company’s use of hydraulic dredge ships.

In January, Nassau County Supreme Court Justice Stephen A. Bucaria ruled the suit could continue on several of its most damning claims. Flower and the town have appealed.

Flower & Sons’ attorney Gary Ettelman, a founding partner of Garden City-based Ettelman & Hochheiser, P.C., who categorically denied and dismissed all the baymen’s claims when first interviewed by the Press last year, describes the current status of the suit as “kind of dead in the water.

“There’s really no teeth left of any of their claims,” Ettelman contends. “Even though the judge did allow a few of the claims to proceed, from a practical standpoint, there’s no life left in that lawsuit.”

The baymen’s attorney, Huntington-based Darrin Berger, sees it differently.

“If the case was dead, then why did they appeal the judge’s ruling?” he asks. “The main part that is most viable is the court is still considering whether the leases that were granted to Flower by the Town of Oyster Bay can stand if there are natural-growth shellfish on those leasehold interests. The court is recognizing longstanding law and statutory law that any natural growth clams that are not the product of aquaculture from Flower’s efforts belong to the public.”

“It’s very much alive,” Berger says of the suit.

Things have gotten even uglier on the high seas since the Press first covered Oyster Bay’s “Clam Wars” in an April 5, 2012 cover story documenting several of the practices contested in the baymen’s complaint, such as Flower employees’ staking and repairing flags delineating the boundaries of leased shellfish beds it rents from public grounds without the expertise of a licensed land surveyor.

Besides the latest controversy surrounding the demolition of the FLUPSYs, the baymen have been sounding off about the “sweetheart lease” of roughly six acres of prime, town-owned waterfront property where Flower docks its fleet, along with the company’s sanctioned use of hydraulic dredges to harvest their tremendous hauls—which, the baymen and local environmentalists allege, is damaging what is in actuality a National Wildlife Refuge.

On the latter issue, the baymen are now considering adopting an “if you can’t beat them, join them” strategy, since town officials support the use of Flower’s mechanical blades and suctions along the estuary’s sensitive seabed, says Schultz.

“If dredging’s so good,” he explains, “maybe the baymen association wants to buy a dredge boat and start dredging un-leased property that’s uncertified and start moving shellfish around and cultivating areas to get them better. We want to buy a dredge boat if they’re that good.”

A detailed list of questions for Oyster Bay Town Supervisor John Venditto was answered through a spokesman shortly before press time. The emailed statements verified the details of Flower’s dock lease, and, regarding the baymen’s lawsuit, expresssed the town’s belief “that the court, in its recent partial ruling, misinterpreted the regulations regarding land lease as set forth in the Town Code” and “continues to optimistically await a decision on the motion to dismiss.”

WIPED OUT

Image from Long Island Press April 5, 2012 cover story documenting several of the practices contested in the baymen’s complaint.

As part of a 1992 settlement to resolve another lawsuit filed by the baymen the previous year—on which Venditto was the town attorney—Flower, which owns a hatchery and grows and plants millions of clam and oyster seeds throughout the harbor annually, agreed to provide one million clam seeds to a bay management program for the public. Those seeds, along with an additional million the baymen obtain through the town from part of their $400-per-year license fee and two million more they purchase from outside vendors, comprise the FLUPSYs’ annual stock.

Painter tells the Press Flower refused to adhere to its part of the bargain to provide the seeds last summer; the baymen learned of some of the incubators’ dismemberment during shenanigans surrounding the town’s construction of a new dock that spring. Ultimately, it was too late to sow the annual crop, he says; they were consequently forced to cancel their 2 million outside seed order.

“Last fall they took all five FLUPSYs out of the water. They ended up cutting two of them up saying they were too bad to repair so they decided to discard them,” he says. “Finally, when they got the electric down here and they got the FLUPSYs in the water, there was another problem. One department from the Town of Oyster Bay took all the blue barrels, cut them up, threw them away.

VIEW OUR “CLAM WARS” MULTIMEDIA PRESENTATION, INCLUDING MORE IMAGES AND VIDEO AT www.longislandpress.com/clamwars

“We had over two million clams and we had a half a million oysters on order from an outside company,” continues Painter. “It squashed our whole deal.”

The baymen believe it was no coincidence.

Town of Oyster Bay Supervisor John Venditto

Schultz claims he was personally threatened by a town official, whom he declines to publicly name, “the day the oyster company was served” and a representative from Flower, who he also declines to name publicly, thereafter. He contends the chronology reveals the town and oyster company’s too-cozy relationship and views the FLUPSYs’ demise as the consummation of those threats.

“There were two threats made,” says Schultz, matter-of-factly. “‘Your seed program and bay management will suffer,’” he says they warned him. “Two different days, two different people, two different parties.

“The destruction of our FLUPSYs was the follow-through of the original threat of our bay management and our seed program, suffering from the baymen applying a lawsuit on the town and the oyster company,” he contends. “That’s the fulfillment of their threat when they destroyed all the barrels for the FLUPSYs.

“They said they were accidentally thrown away, in the garbage truck, and that’s 30 barrels,” continues Schultz. “That’s fact, we’re not speculating.

“The town told us that,” he adds. “It was sabotage, without a doubt.”

Ettelman calls the claims “absolutely ludicrous.”

“Due to general wear and tear through years of use, as well as general effects from the weather, two of [the] Town’s five FLUPSYs were damaged upon attempt to repair, leaving three still intact and active in the water,” states the town.

Regardless of what happened, ultimately, explains Painter, it’s the pubic who will suffer, not just the baymen.

“If you had a little bit of termites in your house, you’re telling me you’re going to take down your whole house?” he asks. “We built those FLUPSYs, we could have just changed some wood in them… That’s smacking the public’s hand, because this program is done for the public benefit.”

Whether the public is actually benefitting from a lucrative lease agreement between the oyster company and the town is another question the baymen have been asking, especially given Oyster Bay’s recent financial troubles.

The town is $878 million in debt. Last month it was subject to a ratings downgrade by Standard & Poor’s, citing a “negative outlook” and “financial deterioration due to operating deficits in each of the past seven fiscal years.”

Yet instead of getting even at least the minimum fair market value for the valuable dock space land—and banking millions of dollars in the process, charge the baymen—the town is renting all that property to Flower, which online business directory Manta listed last year as netting between $20 million and $50 million annually, for a song, while also subleasing.

(Video from April 5, 2012 cover story)

SWEETHEART DEAL

On any given day, Flower’s fleet of hydraulic dredge ships and suction boats can be seen plying through the waters of Oyster Bay Harbor, usually trailed by a thick cloud of winged scavengers feeding on the carnage of sea life left in its wake or atop its deck. Unlike 20- to 24-foot clam skiffs used by diggers such as Schultz and other baymen, these floating factories are near-impossible to miss.

When Flower’s six main vessels—which range from roughly 40 to 100 feet in size, say the baymen—aren’t slicing through the shell beds with cutting blades, emulsifying the sediment with highly pressurized jets of water, or utilizing massive vacuums to siphon and gobble up the bottom of the bay, they’re docked on a roughly 6.6-acre swath of prime, town-owned waterfront property, known as Oystermen’s Dock.

Dock and slip space is hard to come by along the harbor—and expensive. Other marinas and shipyards adjacent to Oystermen’s Dock, such as Oyster Bay Marine Center (OBMC) and the 97-slip town-run boat basin in Theodore Roosevelt park, have waiting lists. Even mooring a boat—which is cheaper than renting a slip to dock and store a boat, whether during the summer or through the winter seasons—can cost hundreds, even thousands of dollars. Multiply that exponentially if you’re looking to anchor more than one boat.

OBMC, for example, charges $1,710 for a 600-lb. mooring, which typically can hold a 51- to 53-foot-long vessel and $4,825 for a 2000-lb. vessel.

Renting dock space is an entirely different ballpark.

OBMC’s smallest slip, should you be able to secure one—which can accommodate a boat up to 26 feet in length—runs between $5,650 to $5,800. Slips for vessels up to 58 feet long cost between $12,800 and $13,100. That’s just for the summer season, which typically runs from April to mid-November. A 40-foot boat with a 17-foot-beam would tally $4,624 for winter season storage, for example.

At the town’s Theodore Roosevelt marina, summer rates run $97.50 per foot during the summer and $30 per foot for winter storage.

Yet, stress the baymen, Flower pays just $2,100 per year for use of the entire six acres, through 2015, according to its lease agreement obtained by Painter, just one of a bevy of Freedom of Information Law requests filed in 2011 that was just recently fulfilled. [Originally the town had told him “there are no such records.”] The rent increases by $200 every five years.

Venditto voted in favor of the arrangement as town councilman in 1983, along with the rest of the town board, state the documents.

“I want that deal!” booms Fetzer, a father of three who lost his son Matthew about five years ago, standing on a nearby dock. “There are delis in town that are not even 300 square-foot costing three grand a month, so three grand a month versus $2,100 a year—that’s a pretty sweet deal.”

Schultz, who pays $1,500 a year just for the mooring of his skiff, wants an investigation. Painter estimates the oyster company’s true, fair market rent, were they not getting special treatment, should be around $100,000 annually—without taxes, for just the dockage.

“It’s crazy!” blasts Schultz. “They shouldn’t have leases like that when they’re in such a financial hole.”

“I don’t get it,” says Painter. “It’s tax-exempt property.

“I’m jealous,” he laughs. “Everybody would really want what Flower’s got.”

“The taxpayers of the Town of Oyster Bay are being done a disservice, in terms of the amount of revenue that’s being garnered by the town for prime waterfront land,” slams Berger. “I would be abhorred if I was a taxpayer and I knew the terms of that lease.”

“It’s too good of a deal,” adds Painter. “Taxpayers should be outraged. Outraged. Especially in this economy.”

And the Clam Wars of Oyster Bay rage on….

Photo by Katherine Schroeder courtesy of North Fork School for Dogs

Imagine a place where dogs run freely together, playfully romping on fresh green grass. Where canines of myriad breeds share the same water fountain while their owners exchange ideas. A place that’s clean, accessible, popular, safe.

While it may sound like dog heaven, this is actually a common description of a dog park—designated off-leash areas where canines can get much-needed exercise and socialization time while their owners trade tips on everything from training to proper nutrition. And following a national trend, they’re sprouting up all across Long Island.

“We’ve seen a really big increase in dog parks on Long Island, both in Nassau and Suffolk counties, over the last five or six years,” says Ginny Munger Kahn, president of nonprofit LI-Dog Owners Group. “It’s been the result of collaborations between organizations of dog owners and elected officials and parks department officials.”

Currently Nassau has 10 dog parks and Suffolk has 11, she adds. Just six years ago Suffolk had only one. Just within the past year, three new dog parks opened in Nassau County: in Valley Stream, Massapequa and Eisenhower Park. And more are set to open in both counties.
Supporters point to several reasons why dog parks are gaining ground.

Advocates contend that dog parks provide much-needed open space for those owners who may otherwise not have adequate backyards for their pets to roam in.

“There’s a lot of people that can’t exercise their dogs off-leash, especially the elderly, and it’s a great way to exercise your dogs,” says dog trainer Dawn Bennett.

Another major benefit, they say, is that socialization and exercise have been known to positively impact a dog’s behavior.

“People talk about how they see their dog’s behavior change for the better because they are getting adequate exercise at a dog park,” says Munger Kahn. “Over the last ten years it’s become common knowledge that dogs need exercise and socialization.”

Additionally, Kahn points out, dog parks are great place for owners to meet like-minded people.

“They build communities,” she says. “Many of my best friends I’ve met through the dog park.”

There’s definitely a need here on Long Island. Dogs are only permitted in Suffolk County parks if they are on a leash, she explains. In Nassau, no dogs are allowed in county parks—leashed or unleashed. Most town parks across Long Island carry the same or similar rules.

“I adopted a dog and realized that there is no place to walk your dog in parks or take her off leash,” says Peggy Heijmen, an Oyster Bay resident, dog owner and nonprofit LI-Dog Owners Group board member. “It’s very, very difficult.”
The group, founded in 1998, is dedicated to increasing public parkland for Long Island dog owners and their four-legged companions. Their efforts are paying off. Heijmen was the driving force behind the Massapequa dog park.

“We went to several town board meetings and did petitions and wrote letters to get this park running and successful,” she says.

Opened in June 2012 on Louden Avenue, the park features such amenities as doggie water fountains and separate areas for small and large dogs.

“It has been incredibly successful,” she continues. “We have a Facebook page so that people can share their pictures and their experiences, and we have over 200 people actively using the page.”

The Valley Stream dog park opened a month prior, mainly the brainchild of the Friends of Valley Stream Dog Park, an all-volunteer group organized to support and provide facilities to local dog owners.

President Richard Infield says the project went off without a hitch after receiving the support of the Valley Stream Mayor Edwin Fare and other members of local government.

“Once we started, it was very much a team effort between us and the village,” he says. “It’s really been an easy relationship and continues to be.”

UNLEASHED
Government officials and dog park proponents have been joining forces to open more spaces in Suffolk County, too. In July a dog park in Calverton opened under the guidance of Riverhead Town Councilman Jim Wooten and nonprofit Move the Animal Shelter (MTAS).

“We initiated the Calverton dog park to address the needs of our senior community, who live in modular homes or smaller lots,” says Woonten. “It gives their pets a chance to run about and play and socialize with other dogs.”

MTAS secured funding for the park, he adds, which along with private donations of benches and fencing, helped keep the cost down for taxpayers. After all, it’s the startup costs that can pose hurdles. Lack of funding was one of the obstacles Bennett faced when she tried to secure a bigger dog park in Southold, she says.

“I had come back from California and I was blown away with how many dog parks were there and how dog-friendly they were,” explains Bennett. “And here, where we live, the only off-leash area we had was this pitiful, very barren quarter of an acre dog park that wasn’t used by anybody.

Bennett and her business partner Asha Gallacher, who together run the North Fork School for Dogs, decided to create a petition for their cause. After two months, the duo collected about 500 signatures.

“I just put the petitions in every store,” Bennett says. “We collaborated with all the pet stores and the animal shelter. The squeaky wheel gets the oil—I just went to every town meeting and got all the petitions together.”

While the request to build a new park was ultimately denied, officials agreed to expand upon an existing dog park. The environmental nonprofit Group for the East End donated trees for shade, and the town installed benches. After a year, the park was completely overhauled and is now more than an acre in size and full of people and dogs every weekend.

Bennett is grateful for the help from Southold Town Supervisor Scott Russell.

“He was very corporative and he was a big help,” she says. “He listened. Even though we had a strict budget, he gave us a piece of the recreational pie.”

PUPPY LOVE
Dog parks aren’t just gaining popularity here on Long Island. According to data from the Trust for Public Land’s 2011 City Park Facts, dog parks in major U.S. cities jumped 34 percent over the last five years. In comparison, parks overall only increased 3 percent during that time.

“This is not unique to Long Island,” says Munger Kahn. “There’s a tremendous demand for these areas, and a love for them.

“They are now what the playground movement of the 1950s was,” she adds.

So far, Long Island’s new dog parks have garnered so much positive reception that more are in the works. In Suffolk, the LI-Dog Owners Group is working on a campaign to build a second dog park in Centereach with Town of Brookhaven Councilwoman Kathleen Walsh. Councilman Wooten also hopes to create another dog park this spring at Stotzy Park in Riverhead. In Nassau, Heijmen is now looking to add more dog parks in the Town of Oyster Bay.

Besides the additional parks, owners also seek more on-leash access in both counties’ parks.

“A lot of people exercise with their dogs,” says Munger Kahn. “Dog walking is their primary form of exercise. At most Long Island town parks you’re not allowed to even walk your dog on a leash. So dog owners are regulated to walk on the sidewalks in the neighborhoods that have them or in the street, and it’s dangerous.”

Munger Kahn says the main criticism against this is concern about people not picking up after their dogs. Yet with increased access, she says, comes increased accountability among responsible dog owners. And that can only lead to more access for dog lovers.

“We understand by asking for more access it means we have to be responsible. We have to pick up after our dogs,” she says. “I am confident that as long as the majority of us dog owners are responsible and pick up after our dogs that we will continue to see improvement in gaining access to public park land.”

“I think that as more dog parks have been developed, elected officials have seen how successful and popular they are,” she adds.

It’s a sentiment Councilman Wooten shares.

“Dog parks are a wonderful thing,” he says.

Marilyn Monroe was already one of the most famous women in America when she posed for Eve Arnold, herself a pioneering photographer, at a Mt. Sinai playground and in a nearby marsh in 1955.
(Eve Arnold/Magnum Photos)

When Marilyn Monroe came out to Fire Island in 1955 to spend the weekend with Lee and Paula Strasberg, who were mentoring her at their famed Actors Studio in Manhattan, she famously remarked, “What a lovely place this is—it’s got water all around it.”

But that wasn’t her first time on Long Island. In 1949 Monroe had visited the Town of Oyster Bay’s Tobay Beach with Andre de Dienes, a photographer friend who’d once been her lover in California when she was still using her real name, Norma Jeane, and struggling to get her footing in Hollywood as a model.

Then she was a budding starlet and she’d come east to promote the Marx Brothers’ forgettable last film, Love Happy, in which she tells Groucho that she needs his help because “some men are following me” and he lasciviously replies, “Really. I can’t imagine why.”

In de Dienes’ pin-up photograph, Monroe was 23 and full of promise. Her troubled childhood in orphanages and foster homes were long behind her. A bright future lay still ahead.

By the summer of 1955 Monroe had become one of the most famous women in America. Her marriage to Joe DiMaggio, the Yankee Clipper, was over, and she’d left Hollywood in a contract fight with 20th Century Fox. Her studio bosses had wanted her to do The Girl in Pink Tights. She balked and formed Marilyn Monroe Productions in New York.

The image of her skirt billowing in the breeze from the Lexington Avenue subway—a still from the 1954 movie The Seven Year Itch—had become “the shot seen ’round the world.” Adding to the attraction was her 1953 appearance as the nude centerfold in the first issue of Playboy magazine, because the enterprising publisher Hugh Hefner had paid $500 for the rights to Tom Kelley’s nude photos that he’d taken of her in 1949, paying her $50 to pose on a swath of crushed red velvet.

The news that the Hollywood star had been fully exposed broke in 1952 when Kelley’s photos turned up in a calendar illustration. Monroe showed her genius for self-publicity—and earned even more money for 20th Century Fox—by owning up to it. In answer to reporters’ breathless queries about what she’d been wearing during the shoot, she said she only had on “the radio.”

At the Strasberg’s place on Ocean Beach, Monroe was sharing a bedroom with their teenage daughter Susan, who was about to appear on Broadway in The Diary of Anne Frank. There were “a lot of theater people” at that part of the island, Susan Strasberg recalled. “They were sophisticates, which meant they stared at Marilyn Monroe from a distance instead of staring up close.”

Photo: Eve Arnold/Magnum Photos

Over the Labor Day weekend in 1955 Monroe was on the North Shore, staying at Norman and Hedda Rosten’s cottage in Port Jefferson. They were artistic college friends of Arthur Miller’s, who’d Monroe had been seeing since she moved to Manhattan even though they were both still married at the time. Late that September afternoon she left to do a photo shoot with famed photographer Eve Arnold, the second woman to join Magnum Photos, the world-renowned agency founded by Robert Capa and Henri Cartier-Bresson.

Arnold, who was then living in Miller Place, took Monroe to a playground in Mt. Sinai. Monroe brought along three bathing suits and a copy of James Joyce’s Ulysses, which she kept in her car.

“She said she loved the sound of it and would read it aloud to herself to try to make sense of it,” Arnold recalled, “but she found it hard going.”

Monroe had performed Molly Bloom’s sensual soliloquy to much acclaim at a small workshop at the Actors Studio. While Arnold was changing film, Monroe got the book out to read.

“So, of course, I photographed her,” Arnold explained. Soon it was 5 o’ clock, the golden hour, photographers say. “The timing for the marshes was just right,” Arnold wrote, “the light soft and shadowless and ranging from pale yellow through deep saffron.”

Monroe changed into a one-piece bathing suit with a leopard-skin print and waded in.

“She was intrepid,” Arnold enthused later. “She stood in [it], sat in it, lay in it until the light started to go and I called a halt. She climbed out, covered in mud, but she was exhilarated—and giggling.” Later, Arnold would insist that Monroe told her “she had loved the day and kept repeating that these were the best circumstances under which she had ever worked.”

An effervescent Marilyn Monroe manages to get a laugh out of her serious husband, Arthur Miller,
in this series of candid black and white photographs taken in July 1956 when they were the most curious couple in the country. (AP Photo/Julien’s Auctions)

Monroe’s career was nearing its apogee. In the summer of 1957 Monroe was married to Miller, who’d won a 1949 Pulitzer for his tragic play Death of a Salesman. They were living in a weather-worn farmhouse in Amagansett near the Rostens, who were renting a cottage in Springs. Also nearby was the abstract expressionist painter Willem de Kooning, who painted Monroe for his series Women. The image, which Monroe biographer Lois Banner likened to “a cross between a grinning child and a screaming fury,” did not appeal to Monroe’s playwright husband but she didn’t mind. The married couple was in a hopeful phase: He was writing in his studio near the main house and she was cooking and tending her garden. And she was pregnant.

But on Aug. 1, 1957 she cried out in pain. An ambulance rushed her to Manhattan where Monroe hoped that her own doctor could save her baby. He could not. Suffering from a painful uterine condition called endometriosis, she had an ectopic pregnancy, and it had to be terminated. She spent 10 days in the hospital, Miller by her side.

The loss was devastating. When the season was over, they moved back to Manhattan, he ensconced himself in a book-lined study at one end of the apartment struggling over a screenplay that would eventually become The Misfits while she was at the other end, strumming a ukulele and crooning, “I Wanna Be Loved By You.”

The next year they moved to a new house they had built in Connecticut, but they never could recreate the idyllic summer they’d shared on the South Fork. And Monroe’s happy times on Long Island faded into memory.