You can't miss Ship Bottom. If you're going to Long Beach Island, you've got to travel on Route 72 East and over the causeway, which runs right smack into the middle of town. Of course, running smack into Ship Bottom was something of a habit among early ship captains.

According to local lore the place got its name in 1817, when a Capt. Stephen Willets rescued the lone survivor of an overturned ship that washed ashore. Having heard a frantic knocking from the hull, Willets and others punched a hole in the ship and found a beautiful Spanish-speaking woman within.

Nearly a century later in 1910, the Italian bark Fortuna had despite its name a little bad luck, running aground at what is now the 16th Street Beach. The anchor is now in front of Borough Hall. And when Ship Bottom was casting around for a 75th anniversary logo, it seemed inevitable that it would use an artist's rendering of a shipwreck as part of it.

These days, according to Pat Adair, a Ship Bottom resident since 1949, it's not what the ocean washes onto shore that concerns residents, it's what the sea might bear away even given the tide flex valves the borough installs to make the water harder to come in and easier to leave.

"Floods," explained Adair to a visitor one recent day.

She's seen it all. Her own family business, the Country Corner Farm Market ("The best pies on the island," she says with pride), sits by the eastbound road that funnels all the traffic into and through Ship Bottom.

She drives down Central Avenue and points to a small house that seems to be, at first glance, floating about 4 feet above the ground. It's actually supported by what looks like jacks that might be used to change a flat tire on a giant's car. Nearby is a bunch of pilings that eventually will support the home, lifting it out of harm's way.

"Just about every new house is built on pilings and many people who own older houses are taking advantage of a government program that helps pay for them," Adair says.

When it comes to houses, pilings or not, there's something egalitarian about Ship Bottom, a true democratic spirit. It is evident driving up and down nearly every street. Small, modest homes, some probably dating from the 1950s or 1960s, next to brand-new, very large summer and year-round houses. About 2,000 residents live in the borough all year.

"It's not really an issue," says Pat, whose own house, on one of the two lagoons in town, is neither large nor small, but just right. "People all get along well here," Adair says. "It's like a family."

And with only about 2,000 year-round residents, Adair knows most of them. Just driving around, she often honks the horn at someone passing by. At the 10th Street Waterfront Park, home of the Robert Nissen Boat Ramp, she talks to one of the Public Works employees like an old friend, and walks to a gazebo, surrounded by a garden planted and maintained by volunteers as part of the Ship Bottom Beautification Association. At a similar garden and gazebo at Sunset Point, she points to one of the small plaques around a bed of roses.

"Remember the Children of Oklahoma City," it reads. It's Pat's own small contribution.

In a town like Ship Bottom, Adair says, "people need to get to the water," and she believes the borough has made that happen. She points to the walkway that runs under the causeway. She talks of the seven handicapped-accessible beach ramps in town, and the shallow beach area at Bay Beach.

She drives to Borough Hall, a small building with cramped offices inside and The unfortunate Fortuna's anchor stands out front, and a bright yellow flag tied to the front. On the flag, in big black letters, are the words, "Don't Dump On Us."

Adair explains that the same flags fly in municipalities all over Long Beach Island, presenting a united front against those who would resume ocean dumping.

Putting aside the politics of the Jersey Shore, she picks up a schedule of summer events from the office of municipal clerk Mary Sue Killian.

There are the annual "Concerts by the Bay" that take place at the 10th Street Waterfront Park on Thursday evenings in July and August. Featured on July 19 is '40s music with Bob Harris and the Swingtimers Orchestra; there's Latin Jazz/Salsa on Aug. 2 with the David Cedeno Orchestra; Aug. 9 brings the country-western group "Hard Drive"; and finally, on Aug. 23, a performance by the a cappella doo-wop group "The Sound Masters."

"They are doing `Memories By The Bay' again this year," she notes.

What began last year as part of the borough's 75th anniversary has become an annual event. Each year they hold a Classic Car Show and Oldies Festival, an all-day event in late July. And they're trying something new this year in Ship Bottom: "The Twilight Festival Boat Parade," complete with a boat and house decorating contest, is scheduled for July 7.

There is a strange alchemy to the summertime economy of the Jersey Shore. At about 1" square miles, Ship Bottom is home to a few surf shops and three miniature golf courses.

The Ron Jon Surf Shop, housed in a purple-hued building at Central and Ninth streets, is the biggest and most famous. Ron Jon first opened in 1961. Three other stores later were opened in Florida and California. But it's the original that many people come to see.

``I think we're definitely a destination in Ship Bottom,'' says Heather Lewis, marketing manager for the four surf shops. There also are Ron Jons in Cocoa Beach and Ft. Lauderdale, Fla., and Orange, Calif. ``I'm always amazed at the various places people are from who visit us.''

Lewis also attributes the success to the mystique surrounding Ron Jon after 40 years in business at the Shore.

``It's a rite of passage to go to the Jersey Shore. We see people who came here as kids bringing their own kids to us,'' she says.

"We get people stopping in . . . from as far away as Colorado, and the first thing they want to know is `Where is Ron Jon's?' Even though the owner moved to Florida and has a store there, a T-shirt from the original Ron Jon's is special," she says.

Then again, there's that mainland mindset to contend with.

"People are impatient," she says. "They can't seem to leave the place they came from behind, not even when they are on vacation for a couple of weeks. People drive right through Ship Bottom without even knowing they've passed it. By the time they get here, from however far they've come, they have a sense of `I'm almost there' and are in a hurry to get there."

Back in the 1920s, of course, the only way onto the island was across the toll bridge over Manahawkin Bay. It cost a nickel.

The new bridge is free now, but in the busy summer, with so much traffic, it costs you time to get away from it all.

People change, too, she says.

"It used to be that you knew who exactly was coming to spend two weeks," she says. "You can't always do that now. On the other hand, the summer people, it seems to me, start coming earlier to spend weekends, and the season goes on longer than it used to. I think a lot of us enjoy the sight of other people enjoying all that Ship Bottom has - some of the best beaches anywhere and beautiful dunes."

Adair says that any time she comes over the bridge from the mainland, she always get the same feeling.

"You know you're home and that home is some place special," she says.

Staff writer William H. Sokolic contributed to this report.