Haven: A history of welcoming wayward sailors
The Ship Bottom house was once a shipwreck victims' lifesaving station.

So passionate is Rick Baldt about the Jersey Shore that he claims to have spent 63 summers there. He's 62, but he counts when he was in utero.
His parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents were all seashore lovers. Rick and wife Beth, who live in Moorestown, had never owned their own place, though. Instead, they had rented, almost always in Surf City on Long Beach Island.
Beth Baldt, a speech pathologist, and Rick, a retired executive for an industrial-equipment company, were hoping to buy a Shore house at last. And on the very day when a potential deal in Ship Bottom fell through, one of their daughters was browsing a Realtor's website when another house popped up.
Hardly a traditional one.
This house had been a refuge for the poor in the mid-19th century, stocked with biscuits and water. But by 1871, it had become a "lifesaving station," a precursor of the Coast Guard's rescue stations.
Known as "red houses," these were scattered along desolate barrier beaches from Sandy Hook to Cape May. They were staffed by six men, who would live in the dwellings from September through April. Their mission was to rescue the victims of shipwrecks.
On a cold day in January 2014, the Baldts rushed down to see the Ship Bottom "red house," but Rick wasn't at all sure how Beth would feel about it.
"I know Rick was a bit astonished when, after looking at the house, I left to take a walk around the neighborhood, came back, and said, 'Let's do it!' " Beth says.
She loved the location, just a half-block from the beach, and rejoiced in the very things Rick thought might be deal breakers. She adored the mess room, which could easily accommodate their entire clan of 12, including grandchildren, and was equipped with the original dining table that had served the rescuers of old.
She also could picture the upstairs bunk room, with its built-in bunk beds and storage drawers, filled with grandkids.
But there was one more emotional selling point: In the original "boat room," where the boats and other equipment were stored, was a lamp, its base made from a Baldt anchor.
Rick's great-grandfather, Frederick Baldt, had invented that anchor, a proud family legacy. The Baldt anchor is used on Navy ships to this day.
"That did it," Rick explains. "Our buying this particular house seemed like it was meant to be. When heaven sends a sign, you've got to act."
By Feb. 28, 2014, they owned the property. But the good-natured seller had one request: The house had been rented to the same families for 50-some years, and he was eager to accommodate them through the summer. Touched by his loyalty, the Baldts agreed.
In the interim, they began the first significant improvements. Their most important decision was to hire contractor Dean Harkness, a longtime LBI resident, who has worked tirelessly with the family to make needed restorations.
Ongoing improvements have included replacing 36 windows, putting cedar siding on the exterior, and installing a heating and air-conditioning system. One fortuitous discovery was the presence of a brick chimney covered with plywood; now uncovered, it has become the focal point of an upstairs bedroom.
The Baldts and their adult daughters - Erika, 35; Jessica Baldt LaGrou, 33; and Amanda Baldt McComas, 30 - are determined to keep the basic character of this landmark close to its origins.
The sleeping arrangements seemed to work perfectly, with a first-floor room labeled "Captain's Quarters" designated the master bedroom; the bunk room clearly awaiting five grandchildren; and two additional bedrooms (one dubbed the "fishbowl room" for its nine windows) awaiting family and friends.
The kitchen has a sturdy table and benches perfect for hungry breakfast and lunch eaters in shifts, when the large "mess room" is not being used. The boat room is now the living room, with comfortable sofas, a handsome brick fireplace, and perfect spaces to relax.
"Seashore life has its own rhythms," Rick says. "We'd never want this place to feel formal or fussy."
Beth is looking forward to making small changes with paint, curtains, and new spreads for the six bunk beds. The house came with such accessories as wooden boats, a lobster trap, and charming wall hangings that include framed nautical knots.
Hanging on a kitchen wall is a plaque reminding occupants what seashore life is meant to be. It wisely mentions beautiful sunsets, cool drinks, sand between your toes.
The Baldts hope to experience all of them.