Beach Access Controversy | Who Owns the Beach?
In New England, ongoing battles over who gets to use the beach have divided communities, ended friendships, even fractured families.
It was the kids who arrived first, all from Hartford, clad in T-shirts and bathing suits. They scampered up an aluminum ladder lodged against a rock pier and then tossed themselves onto the white sands of the Madison Beach Club in Madison, Connecticut. They were loud and happy, laughing and singing as they made their way to the sea. Next came the parents, toting baskets and paper bags stuffed with picnic fixings and towels. On this Sunday morning in late May 1975, these moms and a few fathers dipped their toes into the still-cool Long Island Sound water, then carved out their sunbathing spots. Two teenage boys rounded out the visitors, coming by water in an old rowboat they steered toward the beach. In all, the group’s arrival took just six minutes to complete, the uninvited mass moving with the kind of speed and precision that one reporter compared to “Vietnamese boarding the last plane for the States.”
For club members, who’d paid the $300-per-family annual fee for a little slice of this exclusive stretch of shorefront, the sudden wave of arrivals pushed them into action. They nervously picked up their belongings, rounded up their children, and headed back to the clubhouse, where they stood on the porch, in full earshot as the unwelcome group sang, “This beach is our beach, your beach is our beach” to the tune of “This Land Is Your Land.” Then they watched as a teenage girl dressed as Uncle Sam planted an American flag in the sand.
If this collection of kids and parents were strangers to club officials, the man at the center of the invasion most certainly was not. As communities up and down the Sound were gearing up for what would prove to be the hottest summer in nine years, Ned Coll was plotting another round of beach invasions. In a state where just 3 percent of its 253-mile coastline was open to all residents, Coll, who’d spent a decade fighting urban-poverty issues, had made public access to beaches a central cause.
“Russian trawlers get closer to the Connecticut beaches than inner-city kids [do],” said Coll, the charismatic 35-year-old founder of the Revitalization Corps, a private domestic Peace Corps based in Hartford.
Coll took particular delight in bringing his theatrical fight to the private beaches of Long Island Sound. At Fenwick Beach, summer home of the Hepburns, he and his group paraded around with signs that read Let’s Help Each Other in America and Patriotism Means Helping, Not Hoarding. One landing began with a parachutist; another featured a plane flying above, brandishing the message Free America’s Beaches. Sometimes Coll himself arrived with kids and parents and invaded by land; other times he buzzed in by motorboat, proudly displaying the American flag.