Bar-dum, bar-dum, bar-dum, bar-dum
Living in an ocean-front town, I spent much of my childhood summers at the beach. Every Saturday and Sunday, we hauled enough food and beach stuff that it took us a couple of trips to carry everything from the parking lot at West Island to its sandy shore. My mother made enough food, including clam fritters, so we could stay the entire afternoon.
Then there were the many hours my parents dug for clams and quahogs in the sandy beds during low tide. We kids found a way to entertain ourselves until they got their quota. Or we picked periwinkles from the rocks at West Island to eat later at home using safety pins to remove the cooked critters.
Spending that much time close to the ocean, I was well aware — long before the movie “Jaws” — that creatures lived in its waters. Certainly, I had seen prehistoric-looking horseshoe crabs, a giant sea turtle, jelly fish, and large fish like tuna. Sharks? No. They were out there, hopefully way out there although sometimes they come closer. I was safe because I never swam that far in waters over my head. No shark was going to grab me with its jaws like that woman in the movie poster above.
And, naturally, I had read Herman Melville’s “Mobi-Dick” and watched the movie version. Gregory Peck, who played Captain Ahab, made an appearance in New Bedford when it premiered.
Then there is “Jaws,” now celebrating its 50th anniversary. I so enjoyed the comradery of the three main characters, police chief Martin Brody, marine biologist Matt Hooper and the crusty fisherman Quint, as they hunt for the great white shark that is having its way with people in the waters off fictional Amity Island.
The movie is based on Peter Benchley’s novel and directed by Steven Spielberg. Who can forget John William’s two-note theme song, “bar-dum, bar-dum, bar-dum, bar-dum,” that told you something bad was about to happen. Then there is that memorable line I’ve used a few times, “You’re going to need a bigger boat.”
I am going to move onto adulthood, and the summers we vacationed in Fairhaven. Our family was living in the sticks of Western Massachusetts, and I longed to be immersed in salty air and waters. My aunt and cousins generously allowed us to stay at their cottage on Wilbur’s Point.
One summer, Hank and I decided to take the ferry to Martha’s Vineyard, a place I hadn’t visited since I was a kid on a family field trip. Back then, you had to take the ferry from Falmouth. But now, it went out of New Bedford. My mother, Algerina Medeiros joined us. Three of our kids came along.
When we arrived on the island, my mother was interested in going on a van tour. I was game, well, we were tourists, and so was my son, Nate, which surprised me since he was in high school. That’s him in the photo. Hank and the other kids were going to walk around. Nate really wanted to come with his mother and grandmother on a tour?
But I soon found out why. Nate wanted to see where “Jaws” had been filmed.
(There were, of course, other interesting landmarks like the cemetery where John Belushi is buried and Chappaquiddick, the scene of a notorious accident.)
But as we rode around, the person at the mic pointed out where various scenes were shot since most of the movie was filmed on Martha’s Vineyard. That began in May 1974. Here is a memorable fact I recall: the scene in which people are in the ocean and come screaming across the beach was filmed when the weather and water were damn cold, so there was a good inspiration for their screaming. “Bar-dum, bar-dum….”
I have watched “Jaws” a few times and plan to do it again. I bet Nate will, too.