From “Jaws” to Jersey: Tracing a Shark Story Through Time

For me—and probably many others my age and older—it’s hard to believe that June 20, 2025, marked the 50th anniversary of the release of Steven Spielberg’s blockbuster film “Jaws”.

I vividly remember the first time I saw it. Not only was I excited to see the movie everyone was talking about, but it was also just a couple of weeks before my seventeenth birthday, and I was eagerly anticipating getting my driver’s permit. To top it off, my family was heading down to Long Beach Island at the Jersey Shore the very next day for a week-long vacation. I had heard so much buzz about “Jaws”from friends and TV commercials that I just had to see it—despite the warnings that it might scare me out of going anywhere near the ocean!

The movie was spectacular. Surprisingly, it didn’t stop me from swimming in the ocean during our vacation, although I have to admit I was a little more mindful about how far I wandered out into the surf. To this day, I still enjoy “Jaws”immensely and have probably watched it 20 times or more over the past five decades. Nothing, however, can compare to that first screening at the theater in Montclair, New Jersey, during the summer between my junior and senior years of high school. I’ll always love the film for the suspense it builds—amplified by that iconic music—and most of all, for its masterful storytelling.

One of my favorite scenes is when the grizzled fisherman Quint, brainy oceanographer Hooper, and aquaphobic Chief Brody share drinks and swap stories below deck on their questionably seaworthy vessel—only to be interrupted by the sudden, terrifying thud of a massive great white shark slamming into the boat.

Another standout scene is the heated exchange between Brody, Hooper, and the stubborn Mayor of Amity Island, as Brody and Hooper plead for the beaches to be shut down to prevent further attacks. During their argument, the Chief references a real-life string of shark attacks that occurred along the Jersey Shore in July 1916—incidents that claimed the lives of four people and left a fifth seriously injured.

Even as a teenager, that line stuck with me. Being a history buff, I was immediately intrigued. But back in 1975—long before the days of the internet, Wikipedia, or AI—there weren’t many ways to dig deeper into that haunting piece of local history.

As years passed and information became more accessible online and through television documentaries, my curiosity grew. I found myself drawn into the true story behind New Jersey’s very own “Jaws”—a story of a rogue shark that attacked and killed two young men who were bathing in the ocean, one in Beach Haven and another in Spring Lake. Days later, it was believed that the same shark attacked and killed 11-year-old Lester Stilwell and his would-be rescuer, 24-year-old Stanley Fisher, at Matawan Creek—many miles inland, where school kids often swam to escape the oppressive summer heat.

Later, when I married and had a family, my wife Kelly and I would watch “Jaws” and Discovery Channel’s Shark Week with our three daughters. They all developed a fascination with sharks, especially great whites. Naturally, I began sharing with them the chilling tale of 1916. Thankfully, none of them developed a fear of the ocean—but every time we drove down the Garden State Parkway on our way to the shore, they’d shout with excitement as we crossed the Driscoll Bridge over the Raritan River, “Are we going over the shark bridge?”

The bridge, while not directly connected to the 1916 attacks, became a symbolic landmark for our family—a sign we were getting closer to the beach, and maybe just a little closer to the story that had fascinated me for so long.

Several years ago, still intrigued by what really happened at the Jersey Shore in 1916, Kelly and I, along with two close friends, booked a kayak tour of the Matawan Creek, where two of the four fatal shark attacks took place. While the tour and guide were both fascinating, we quickly found out that tandem kayaks are not necessarily good for maintaining happy marriages. While the single kayaks flew through the water, the two tandems—occupied by our friends and us—lagged far behind. The unexpected benefit? We got more face time with our guide, who was responsible for making sure she didn’t lose any stragglers! While kindly prompting us to row a bit faster, she regaled us with more details of that fateful day when tragedy struck the small town of Matawan.

Not long after that historically informative, albeit exhausting, day, Kelly and I ventured down to Matawan again. This time, however, we were going there to interview Matawan town historian Al Savolaine for our podcast, Your History Your Story. Savolaine, who had recently published a book about Stanley Fisher—the hero who attempted to save and then recover the body of Lester Stilwell—gave us a wonderful tour, which included the Stilwell home, the soon-to-be-torn-down home of Stanley Fisher, and the train station to which the mortally injured Fisher was carried in a desperate and futile attempt by others to save his life.

Savolaine saved the most impactful, moving part of his tour for last when he brought us to the final resting places of both Lester and Stanley at Matawan’s Rose Hill Cemetery. Then, while standing by Fisher’s grave, Savolaine sang a hymn to honor the young man’s bravery on that hot July day in 1916. After his beautiful tribute, he pointed out that Fisher’s grave stands on a hill that actually overlooks the grave of little Lester—making us imagine that Stanley was somehow still looking after his young friend.

If you are a fan of the movie Jaws and would like to learn more about the true story of New Jersey’s 1916 shark attacks, check out our podcast with Al Savolaine, titled “July 1916: A Creek, A Shark, and A Hero”

(S6 E1). Hope you have a fun time at the beach this summer!

Episode link:

https://youtu.be/znEY0zKDvao?si=dM_tX8zEX_4a5yz8