AUDUBON, New Jersey − A chair fell in South Jersey, and 13,000 people heard it.
Perched precariously on the exposed top floor of a crumbling house along an oft-used back road to Jersey Shore points including Cape May and the Wildwoods, the chair was the subject of fascination for thousands of people who looked for and posted updates on a Chair Watch Facebook page.
And before chalking the Chair Watch up to a bit of weirdness in a state that's so weird it has a magazine dedicated to it, know that members of the Chair Watch group reached across the Delaware River into Pennsylvania, across the U.S. to points west, and even to the United Kingdom − with members checking in daily to see whether the chair had indeed met its demise.
Why was it there? How did it stay there, through wind, rain and weather? What would happen if the house's owner, or Dennis Township, where it's located, decided to demolish the house? What would happen when the chair inevitably tumbled to the ground?
The inevitable happened Dec. 11, when the Northeast was whipped by a storm that brought heavy rain and winds to the region. "Gang, it's been real," member Justin Cline posted with a photo of the derelict green-slatted house, a gaping emptiness on its top where the chair had once been.
More than 660 reactions and nearly 200 comments later − many of them questioning the veracity of the post, wondering whether Cline, who lives in the area, was pulling their (chair) legs − people had to face the harsh reality. The chair was down.
Would the chair survive the fall? Would Chair Watch? What would the denizens of Dennisville's Chair Watch, uh, watch?
The chair did not survive; it appeared to break into pieces. Once the chair was down, the house was set for demolition and soon it, too, was gone.
But the group lives on, with members speculating about the chair (it's in the hands of local craftsmen who are trying to repair it), a red suitcase that was also atop the house (also in the hands of a local person, who's promised to reveal its contents at a later date) and talking about other landmarks and oddities along Route 47, the state road where the house and the chair once stood.
So what drew all these people to debate and speculate on the fate of a simple wood chair with a red cushion and a green house, both of which had obviously seen better days?
"I've always been fascinated with the abandoned homes that pop up along the back roads to the shore, so when I saw this roofless wonder, I had to pull my car over, admire it, and photograph it," Maria Mosquariello-Pownall, who lives in a Philadelphia suburb and grew up in South Jersey, wrote in response to a USA TODAY post on the page.
"I would have never imagined that a chair could inspire so many people to channel their creativity in song, poetry, art, fiction, and photography. It's so South Jersey to find inspiration and connection in the oddest of items."
Indeed, the chair did inspire art: memes and gentle mockery, the chair Photoshopped into various iconic works and photographs, even greeting cards and Christmas tree ornaments. Along the way, the administrators of the page, Tony DiMeglio and Jamie Smith, kept the conversations light, fended off negativity and admonished sometimes overeager members not to trespass on private property, to be considerate of neighbors and to only take selfies from a safe and respectful distance.
"My husband thought I was weird for even caring it was still there," admitted Susan Bevilaqua, who passed the house on her travels between Pennsylvania and North Wildwood. "I was so surprised to find the site on Facebook and excited to find I was not the only nut in the box."
Jason Antonelli was so inspired by what he thought was "my own quirky thing looking at this enigma," he created a greeting card. He's hoping the chair becomes its own cult classic: "Sort of like a Holiday tradition to mark its passing since it did fall in December. 'Seinfeld' has the Festivus Pole, 'A Christmas Story' has the Leg Lamp, and now we have The Chair − A symbol of strength and unity!"
For many people (and even for Google Maps) the chair became a landmark, a way to mark their progress on the way to the shore. "It’s the unchanging landscape and habits that we rely on that keep us grounded," Anita Impellizeri O'Briend wrote.
Sue Sea called the group "refreshing and delightful."
"We are from all over the world yet there is common ground among all of us. Ordinary people having extraordinary fun! ... The world could take some lessons from this group."
"Having the chair to share with others added a break to the nastiness and overwhelming problems in the world," Mary Lou Hagan wrote. "It was a break from tediousness and gave everyone a reason to smile. A simple break which lifted spirits. Downright fun with nothing asked in return. A gift from others just to share happiness."
As for the chair's future, Mike Gallo might have a clue.
When "the chair finally gave way and ignited a new life, we as a group decided that it should receive a royal treatment."
Discussions are underway for the chair to be featured in shore towns' holiday parades and perhaps even give it a permanent (and less precarious) home in a local historical society.
"What a great story. No political statements. No hate. Just a bunch of folks that had a shared experience," Gallo said.
Phaedra Trethan has appreciated the weirdness of New Jersey, her home state, for as long as she can remember. She, too, always checked to make sure the chair was still there on her way to the shore. Reach her at [email protected], on X (formerly Twitter) @wordsbyphaedra or on Threads and Instagram @by_phaedra.
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