By Jim McConville
MONMOUTH BEACH _ There are two lights on either side of Bill Marsh’s driveway that are unlike any others on the street. They may not be illuminated every night, but when he flicks them on from a switch in his living room, a smile unfolds across his face. The lights are warm with history, and their soft light ignites the clearest of memories.
A natural storyteller, Marsh glows with excitement as he recounts the tale of his more than 50-year residence in the same house, 70 years as a firefighter and decades of dedication to his family and community.
“While I was in service, I saved up $400,” he said. “I wanted a motorcycle but my father didn’t want that for me, so he took it to the borough hall and bought this lot. I tore down two old houses and started building this one in 1950.”
Marsh went to Long Branch High School but left early to join the Navy. Returning in 1946, he joined the borough’s fire department, a company he was active in even before leaving for military service.
“A lot of the original firefighters left and they let the kids help,” he said. “I started when I was about 12. It was quite a thing to get mixed up with the fire company years ago. Close to a hundred members when I first started.”
Honored last month for 70 years of service in the Monmouth Beach Fire Department (MBFD), Marsh has dedicated his life to the community. He became fire chief in 1960 and began serving as the borough electrician in 1965, two positions his father, Herbert Marsh, also held.
MONMOUTH BEACH _ There are two lights on either side of Bill Marsh’s driveway that are unlike any others on the street. They may not be illuminated every night, but when he flicks them on from a switch in his living room, a smile unfolds across his face. The lights are warm with history, and their soft light ignites the clearest of memories.
A natural storyteller, Marsh glows with excitement as he recounts the tale of his more than 50-year residence in the same house, 70 years as a firefighter and decades of dedication to his family and community.
“While I was in service, I saved up $400,” he said. “I wanted a motorcycle but my father didn’t want that for me, so he took it to the borough hall and bought this lot. I tore down two old houses and started building this one in 1950.”
Marsh went to Long Branch High School but left early to join the Navy. Returning in 1946, he joined the borough’s fire department, a company he was active in even before leaving for military service.
“A lot of the original firefighters left and they let the kids help,” he said. “I started when I was about 12. It was quite a thing to get mixed up with the fire company years ago. Close to a hundred members when I first started.”
Honored last month for 70 years of service in the Monmouth Beach Fire Department (MBFD), Marsh has dedicated his life to the community. He became fire chief in 1960 and began serving as the borough electrician in 1965, two positions his father, Herbert Marsh, also held.
Marsh’s work as an electrician and firefighter became a family affair. His late wife, Myrtle, would often drive the dump truck while Marsh would haul out a stepladder to climb and replace the burned out bulbs in the streetlights on Ocean Avenue. His son-in-law, Kevin Keeshan, and grandsons, Brian and Kevin, Jr., are also members of the MBFD. In fact, the Monmouth Beach Fire Department roster is dotted with Marsh names.
Marsh recounts tales of rescues during massive house fires and harrowing floods as if they were just another day at the office. When asked about his proudest moment as a firefighter, he modestly struggles to talk about himself. He settles on autumn 1960, when Hurricane Donna had flooded most of the town.
“Johnny Peterson lived on Johnson Street, and he was handicapped,” Marsh said. “I picked him up from his bed, carried him out and got him in the rowboat. I rowed him back to the fire department.”
Even when discussing the fire department and his life in Monmouth Beach, Marsh can’t help but credit the others who helped to shape the town, as well as his beloved, “Myrt.” The two met in North Long Branch School; she was a Girl Scout and he was a Boy Scout. She started the Lady’s Fire Auxiliary in Monmouth Beach. Once, when a meeting was delayed because the trucks had not been pulled out, Myrtle got into the truck and pulled it out of the garage herself. To this day, she is the only woman to ever drive a MBFD truck.
“Johnny Peterson lived on Johnson Street, and he was handicapped,” Marsh said. “I picked him up from his bed, carried him out and got him in the rowboat. I rowed him back to the fire department.”
Even when discussing the fire department and his life in Monmouth Beach, Marsh can’t help but credit the others who helped to shape the town, as well as his beloved, “Myrt.” The two met in North Long Branch School; she was a Girl Scout and he was a Boy Scout. She started the Lady’s Fire Auxiliary in Monmouth Beach. Once, when a meeting was delayed because the trucks had not been pulled out, Myrtle got into the truck and pulled it out of the garage herself. To this day, she is the only woman to ever drive a MBFD truck.
Marsh describes the difficulties of fighting fires years ago in a small town. “The water mains weren’t as big as they are now,” he said. “We had to lay out how we were going to attack if we had fires. The fire at the Monmouth Beach Inn we pumped out of the river and used the main on Riverdale Avenue.”
He became an instrumental member of the truck committee that secured the department’s first 100-foot tower truck.
Now, a month before his 90th birthday, Marsh is optimistic about the future of his hometown department.
“You gotta be young,” he said. “We still have kids that are active. They play ball in the summer. We’ve got a good team.”
Now, a month before his 90th birthday, Marsh is optimistic about the future of his hometown department.
“You gotta be young,” he said. “We still have kids that are active. They play ball in the summer. We’ve got a good team.”
When asked what it meant to serve the community for so long, he answered without hesitation.
“I never looked at it like that,” he said. “I just did my job. When the whistle blew, you’d go.”
The lamps on either side of Marsh’s driveway offer a dusty glow in the blue winter afternoon, a reminder of the duty they once accomplished. When turned on, they shine the same golden light they once shined over Ocean Avenue. They are the same lamps that Marsh once stood on a stepladder to replace, while Myrtle kept the dump truck running below.
“I never looked at it like that,” he said. “I just did my job. When the whistle blew, you’d go.”
The lamps on either side of Marsh’s driveway offer a dusty glow in the blue winter afternoon, a reminder of the duty they once accomplished. When turned on, they shine the same golden light they once shined over Ocean Avenue. They are the same lamps that Marsh once stood on a stepladder to replace, while Myrtle kept the dump truck running below.
