Ocean City in Neon

The Empress Motel at Ocean City

At the eastern terminus of US Route 50, in Ocean City, Maryland, several motels have retained their accoutrements of a bygone era. The remaining neon signs, which adorn the main thoroughfares, harken back to a time when most vacations along the shore were taken in station wagons and focused on long days at the beach. Although there have been several high-rise hotels constructed in recent years, the entire boardwalk is an exercise in Americana. Food stands, games, amusements, restaurants, bars and motels dot the wooden boardwalk that stretches two and one-quarter miles along the Atlantic Ocean. It is a populist place, replete with cheap souvenirs and t-shirts advertising all manner of things and beliefs.

The first hotel built in Ocean City, the Atlantic Hotel, was constructed in 1875, and within a few years trains would deliver travelers to the shore. The post-Second World War economic boom and the completion of the Bay Bridge, facilitating automobile traffic from the Washington-Baltimore metropolitan area. Generations of family began using Ocean City as an annual vacation destination and it is common to hear long-term residence of Mid-Atlantic states to refer in reverential nostalgia about their summers spent at the Maryland shore.

The Alamo Motel on US Route 50, Ocean City

As I was photographing the Alamo Motel, the owner asked if I were coming into the office, presumably to secure a room for the night. I sheepishly admitted that I was only photographing his neon sign. I asked him if he knew the age of the 20-foot sign. He had been at the hotel for twenty-six years, and knew that the hotel itself was opened in 1946, but was unsure of the age of the sign. He said that the original owner was one of the Flying Tigers and had returned to the area to open the motel. I had noticed the hotel and its sign a few years back while driving through and had made a mental note that, if I were ever in town again after dark, I would stop and photograph the sign. He seemed to appreciate my story as he finished putting out food for his 21 cats. He and his friend and he were getting ready to settle in for a chat on a very pleasant September evening. The cats were all beautiful, and I reached over to pet a calico on the head; after a brief hesitation, she warmed to me. The owner indicated that all of the cats were fat and happy. “And spoiled,” his friend added.