Other Men’s Trash, One Man’s Treasures
Fleming’s Junkyard: Other Men’s Trash, One Man’s Treasures
One January day while driving around the back roads of southern Atlantic County I spied several rusty old cars scattered throughout the woods on one side of the road. Curious, I pulled my Jeep to a stop on the soft should so that I could peer deeper into the piney forest at the forsaken automobiles. Proceeding slowly down the shady lane, I came to a sandy driveway with an entrance sign posted next to it. Naturally, I entered. At first glance I assumed that I had just wandered into a standard auto salvage lot, based on the random assortment of vehicles haphazardly strewn about the property. But as I proceeded farther in, I soon came to realize that this was no ordinary junkyard. The road soon opened up into an enormous field, its perimeter lined with the rusted remains of hundreds of classic jalopies, some dating back to the early twentieth century. Some of the insignia on their corroded carcasses were common and still seen on the roads today, like Buick, Chevrolet, and Oldsmobile. Others though, such as Packard, Desoto, and Studebaker, were relics from another age of travel in the U.S. But it wasn’t just cars, there were also Mack trucks, farm tractors, and full-sized vintage touring buses.
Not seeing anyone around, I drove through the open field until I spotted a small log cabin-like building with a sign saying “Information Booth” hung on it. I parked next to it in hopes of finding the owner of the property or perhaps someone else who could tell me more about this amazing place I’d happened upon. As I stepped up onto the wooden porch and approached the front door, I noticed the truly odd full figure mannequin standing off to one side wearing a flannel shirt, suit vest, khaki pants, and holding a liquor bottle. The face looked like it had been barrowed from an actual human cadaver. I wondered whether the owners of the place had installed the effigy there as a warning to strangers, or perhaps they just had a dark sense of humor. Either way, I kept one eye on the hideous thing as I knocked tentatively on the door of the shack. There was no answer.
As I walked back to my car, I noticed a beat up old pickup truck racing toward me across the field, kicking up dust and gravel in its wake. Okay, I thought, this could be trouble. The truck pulled up along side me and came to a stop. The driver rolled down his window. A grey haired man sat in a cab amid a mess of papers and variety of other debris. Much to my relief, he seemed friendly enough and not at all intent on blowing my face off with a double barrel shotgun, and for that I was thankful.
“Hello!” I said, offering a friendly hand for a hardy shake. “My name is Mark, and I just happened to wander into this wonderful, er…place you have here.” I said, trying not to offend the gentleman by blurting out the word “junkyard.”
“I’m Harry,” he said.
“Um, and what is this anyway, Harry, a salvage yard?”
“Used to be,” he replied, without saying what exactly it was now. “We used to hold events here.”
“And what’s its name?” I asked, to which he replied, “Fleming’s.”
“Would you be mister Fleming, by any chance?” I queried.
“I am.”
“Well, nice to meet you Mr. Fleming. I’m not, um, trespassing or anything, am I?” I asked cautiously.
“No, feel free to look around. It goes way back, you can drive around.” Harry Fleming seemed downright proud of his odd collection of ‘junk’ and eager to share it with me. That’s all I needed to hear. I jumped into the Jeep and shot off like a kid in a candy store! I drove around the vast property stopping willy-nilly to take pictures of everything I saw before losing the last light of the late afternoon winter sun. And there was A LOT to see!
Scattered throughout the fields and into the woods beyond lay a seemingly random assortment of amusement park kiddie rides, old time telephone booths, signage from the Jersey shore boardwalk for salt water taffy and cocktails, Greyhound busses (even a double decker bus!), a military helicopter and a glider, a steam locomotive, a police cruiser that appeared to be right out of the Blues
Brothers movie and an ambulance that the Ghostbusters would have coveted. There was a four-story tall pyramid tower of hubcaps gleaming in the dwindling winter sun. There were service stations signs featuring the logos of Esso, the Sinclair Oil dinosaur, and the winged Mobile Pegasus. There was even a full-sized classic stainless steel Jersey Diner! Did I forget to mention the dinosaurs? Yes, there were dinosaurs too.
The place was far from any number of run-of-the-mill junkyards – tangled graveyards for late-model vehicles. Fleming’s is more like a time capsule of artifacts of 20th century American travel and culture. I walked through the maze of antique cars stacked like cordwood into meandering walls of twisted rusty steel. The collection seemed more like an artistic sculpture than just a display of salvaged metal. I drove deep into the woods beyond the perimeter of the open fields, down sand road through pine forest strewn with detritus. When I realized I could not take it all in with just a single visit, I decided to leave, determined to return at a later date. I tried to locate Mr. Fleming before I left so that I could thank him and perhaps ask a few more questions about his uniquely unusual property, but he was nowhere to be found. So, I set out on my own to do some research on the history of place.
As it turns out, Fleming’s Auto Parks, as the business is officially known, has a story to tell, and a fairly recent controversy in its past. In 1996, a local car club held a rally on a weekend around Halloween at Fleming’s, which is located on Zion Road in Egg Harbor Township. The event was a big success, drawing dozens of classic cars and an impressive crowd of auto enthusiasts. A second event was scheduled the following year, which would be called the Pumpkin Run Car Show. By then the show had grown so popular that it was being televised on a local cable TV channel.
Over the next two decades Fleming’s Pumpkin Run grew, adding new attractions like tractor pulls, a flea market and food vendors, and was drawing thousands of people. A portion of the proceeds were donated to local charities, such as the Marine Corps Toys for Tots program in Atlantic County, and the Scullville Volunteer Fire Company, whose members helped with parking at the event.
As the years went by however, the growing popularity of the annual Pumpkin Run began to become an increasing problem for the Township. The event had greatly exceeding the capability of site’s available onsite parking. The area around Fleming’s had been growing too, housing developments had sprung up along the local roads that had been built for rural traffic only, and local residents complained of the gridlock caused by the event.
“Our Police Department would go out and try to resolve the complaints,” the mayor of the Township was quoted saying in a local newspaper at the time. “Zion Road is one way, each way. It’s two lanes, and when you have thousands of cars on a small road, there is not a lot you can do.”
In 2017 Township police asked Harry Fleming to figure out a suitable parking and traffic plan that would curtail the traffic and parking dilemma, but none could be found. That summer it was announced there would be no Pumpkin Run Car Show the following fall. Fleming’s Facebook page posted the following message:
“The property of Flemings Auto Parts is not infinite. And all usable land is pretty much used up. Show cars that arrived late sometimes could not even enter, having to park in the surrounding neighborhood along with the overflow of spectators. The county roads for miles around were jammed to a standstill with traffic. In short, we are a victim of our own success. We have outgrown what the property and surrounding neighborhood can handle. And even though the inconvenience is only for around five hours once a year, the burden placed on the township has become too much… With true sadness, for reasons beyond our control, we are sorry to inform everyone that last year’s event, the 21st annual Flemings Pumpkin Run, will be the last of the ‘Run.’ From Harry Fleming and the entire Pumpkin Run Crew, we want to thank you for all the years you may have attended, and all the enthusiasm you have shown. It’s been a great run.”
The announcement was met with a public outcry of support for the Pumpkin Run on social media. Seeing a real opportunity to capitalize on the popularity of the event a neighboring town soon stepped in and offered a solution that might benefit both parties. Upper Township, located just to the south in Cape May County, expressed interest in hosting the event in their town at the Amanda’s Field sports and recreation complex on Route 50. They approached Fleming and discussed the plan and soon the event was approved. So, for the time being, the Pumpkin Run has continued on at its new home.
Harry Fleming would still like to find a way to someday bring the beloved event back to his Egg Harbor Township property, though. Given the continued success of the show at its new location, however, and the still unresolved difficulties at its original site, that day may never come. Nevertheless, with or without the Pumpkin Run, Fleming’s is a wondrous place, something like an open-air museum of roadside Americana and Jerseyana.
Welcome to Zaberville!
This weathered old sign was originally located at the famous Zaberer’s restaurant located on the Black Horse Pike in Hamilton Township. When that restaurant closed in 1983, owner Ed Zaberer moved the sign his North Wildwood restaurant on New Jersey Avenue. It is one of two such signs that still exist.
Zaberer’s in North Wildwood had eight elegant dining rooms and four bars. The crazy decor of the place and drinks, like the house specialty, the “Zaberized Cocktail,” made the restaurant a seaside landmark during summertime. Famous celebrities like Muhammad Ali, Richard Nixon and to Bobby Vinton were all said to have dined at Zaberers at one time or another. Zaberer operated the enormous restaurant for 35 years before selling the business in 1991 and retiring to Florida. Zaberer’s changed hands a few times after that before a kitchen fire tore through the building in 1992, throwing flames high into the North Wildwood Sky.
Though the Welcome to Zaberville sign would require several thousand dollars to be fully restored, some nostalgia fans have made Harry Fleming a generous offer for this piece of Jersey Shore memorabilia. Mr. Fleming has steadfastly refused to part with the sign though, proud to have it as a permanent fixture in his one-of-a-kind collection.
The other Zaberers’ sign that still exists can be found at the Wildwood Doo Wop Museum and is in much better condition.
The preceding article is an excerpt from issue #52 of Weird NJ magazine, “Your Travel Guide to New Jersey’s Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets,” which is available on newsstands throughout the state and on the web at www.WeirdNJ.com. All contents ©Weird NJ and may not be reproduced by any means without permission.
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