Summer of Terror

It was July 12, 1916, and 12-year-old Joseph Dunn was sprinting toward Matawan Creek. Behind him were his 14-year-old brother, Michael, and their buddy Jerry Hollohan. They reached the dock and Joe leaped off into the cool water.

Splash!

What could be better than this?

Joe and Michael lived in New York City. But they came to Cliffwood, New Jersey, where their aunt lived, as often as they could. The tiny town wasn’t a fancy place. There were no hotels, no white-sand beaches with rolling waves. Matawan Creek was a muddy waterway whose banks were lined with brick and tile factories. But to Joe and Michael, Cliffwood was paradise, a happy escape from the misery of summer in New York City.

And that summer had been blazing hot. The heat brought particular suffering to city dwellers, and not just the humans. Horses fainted in the stifling air. Dogs yelped as they walked along stove-hot sidewalks.

Out in Cliffwood, Joe and Michael could forget all that. They could play baseball with Jerry and other local kids. They could buy ice-cream cones for a nickel. Best of all, they could cool off in the creek.

But their carefree mood was soon interrupted by shouts. A man appeared on the dock, sweat-soaked and out of breath. What he said next nearly stopped Joe’s heart: “There’s a shark in the creek!”

A shark? In the creek?

Frantically, Joe swam toward the dock, where Michael and Jerry were already out of the water. Michael was reaching down to help Joe climb out when Joe felt something grab his leg, like a giant pair of scissors.

He felt a crunch. The water around him turned bright red. Time seemed to slow, and everything went dim.

Joseph Dunn had just become a victim in one of the most famous series of shark attacks in history. By the time the terror was over, three men and one boy would be dead.

But Joe didn’t know what was happening to him. He had only one thought: that he was about to die.

It was July 12, 1916, and 12-year-old Joseph Dunn was running toward Matawan Creek. Behind him were his 14-year-old brother, Michael, and their buddy Jerry Hollohan. They reached the dock. Joe jumped into the cool water.

Splash!

What could be better than this? Joe and Michael lived in New York City. But they came to Cliffwood, New Jersey, as often as they could. Their aunt lived there. The tiny town wasn’t a fancy place. There were no hotels. There were no white-sand beaches. Matawan Creek was a muddy waterway. Its banks were lined with factories. But to Joe and Michael, Cliffwood was heaven. It was a happy escape from the hot summer in New York City.

And that summer had been blazing hot. Horses fainted in the stifling air. Dogs cried as they walked on sidewalks as hot as stoves.

Out in Cliffwood, Joe and Michael could forget all that. They could play baseball with Jerry and other kids. They could buy ice-cream cones for a nickel. Best of all, they could cool off in the creek.

But their happy mood was soon interrupted by shouts. A man appeared on the dock. He was all sweaty and out of breath. What he said next nearly stopped Joe’s heart: “There’s a shark in the creek!”

A shark? In the creek?

Frantically, Joe swam toward the dock. Michael and Jerry were already out of the water. Michael was helping Joe climb out when Joe felt something grab his leg. It was like a giant pair of scissors.

He felt a crunch. The water around him turned bright red. Time seemed to slow. Everything went dark.

Joseph Dunn had just become a victim in one of the most famous series of shark attacks in history. By the time the terror was over, three men and one boy had died.

But Joe didn’t know what was happening to him. He had only one thought. He was about to die.

The terror had begun 11 days before, in a beach town about 75 miles south of Cliffwood. Charles Vansant, 25, was swimming when shouts echoed from the beach.

“Look out!”

A few people at the shore could see what Vansant could not: a fin knifing through the water. Vansant must have glimpsed the shark only seconds before its jaws slammed shut around his left thigh. The creature was massive, 8 or 9 feet long.

Six men rushed into the water. Using all their strength, they pulled Vansant—and the shark attached to his leg—into shallower water. The shark’s belly was dragging against the sandy bottom when the creature finally unlocked its jaws and swam away. A doctor tried to stop the bleeding, but Vansant died an hour later.

Witnesses had no doubt what had happened. Many saw the shark with their own eyes.

Yet as the story spread, few believed it. Yes, Charles Vansant had been attacked by a sea creature. But a shark? That seemed impossible. Most believed it was a swordfish, whose blade-like nose could slice through human flesh.

Only a few newspapers reported the incident. Some stories didn’t even include the word shark. “Dies After Attack by Fish” was the headline of a short article in The New York Times.

Why did people have such doubts?

The terror had begun 11 days before, in a beach town south of Cliffwood. Charles Vansant, 25, was swimming. Then shouts came from the beach.

“Look out!”

A few people at the shore could see what Vansant could not. There was a fin knifing through the water. Vansant must have seen the shark only seconds before its jaws slammed shut around his left leg. The creature was huge, 8 or 9 feet long.

Six men rushed into the water. They pulled Vansant onto the beach. A doctor tried to stop the bleeding. But Vansant died an hour later.

Witnesses had no doubt what had happened. Many saw the shark with their own eyes.

Yet as the story spread, few believed it. Yes, Charles Vansant had been attacked by a sea creature. But a shark? That seemed impossible. Most believed it was a swordfish. Its bladelike nose could slice through human flesh.

Only a few newspapers reported what happened. Some stories didn’t even include the word shark. “Dies After Attack by Fish” was the headline of a short article in The New York Times.

Why did people have such doubts?

For most Americans in 1916, the ocean was as mysterious as a distant galaxy. The study of ocean life, known as marine biology, was a new science. Almost nothing was known about large sharks or any sea creatures that weren’t routinely captured by fishermen or easily observed close to shore.

But there was one “fact” about sharks that most people believed: No shark would bite a live human being. Even scientists mistakenly believed that sharks were shy creatures with weak jaws and small appetites.

In 1916, the idea that a shark had killed Charles Vansant was as far-fetched as the idea of a deer attacking someone strolling through the woods.

News of Vansant’s death didn’t spread far, and those who heard rumors figured it was a freak accident.

Until five days later, when it happened again.

For most Americans in 1916, the ocean was a mystery. The study of ocean life was a new science. Almost nothing was known about large sharks.

But there was one “fact” about sharks that most people believed. No shark would bite a live human being. Even scientists mistakenly believed that sharks were shy creatures. They thought sharks had weak jaws and small appetites.

In 1916, the idea that a shark had killed Charles Vansant was as crazy as the idea of a deer attacking someone in the woods.

News of Vansant’s death didn’t spread far. Those who heard rumors thought it was a freak accident.

Then five days later, it happened again.

On July 6, Charles Bruder, 27, was swimming off a beach town about 30 miles south of Cliffwood. Suddenly, without warning, he was savagely attacked by a large shark.

This time, there were few doubts about what had happened. Within the hour, every beach up and down the shore was closed. And by the next morning, headlines blared from the front pages of newspapers around the world.

“Monster Shark Kills Again!”

Overnight, people’s image of sharks was transformed. The “tame” creatures were suddenly seen as bloodthirsty monsters.

As scientists would eventually realize, though, this image of sharks was also incorrect. Some large sharks can and do eat just about anything. But sharks do not deliberately seek out humans as prey. In fact, a person is more likely to be killed by a lightning strike than by a shark. Many bites happen when a shark mistakes a swimmer or surfer for a seal or sea lion.

Perhaps the shark that killed Vansant and Bruder was injured or weakened and unable to hunt its usual prey. We can never know what caused this shark to attack humans. But the “man-eater of New Jersey” would soon kill again.

On July 6, Charles Bruder, 27, was swimming off another beach town south of Cliffwood. Suddenly, he was savagely attacked by a large shark.

This time, there were few doubts about what had happened. Soon, every beach up and down the shore was closed. And by the next morning, headlines blared from the front pages of newspapers around the world.

“Monster Shark Kills Again!”

Overnight, people’s image of sharks was transformed. The “tame” creatures were suddenly seen as bloodthirsty monsters. But later, scientists realized that this image of sharks was also wrong. Some large sharks can and do eat just about anything. But sharks do not deliberately attack humans to eat them. In fact, a person is more likely to be killed by a lightning strike than by a shark. Many bites happen when a shark mistakes a swimmer or surfer for a seal or sea lion.

Maybe the shark that killed Vansant and Bruder was injured. Maybe it was unable to hunt what it usually ate. We can never know what caused this shark to attack humans. But the “man-eater of New Jersey” would soon kill again.

By July 12, when Joseph, Michael, and Jerry jumped into Matawan Creek, the panic had died down. The boys must have heard about the attacks. But why would they worry? Matawan Creek was 15 miles inland. It seemed as safe as a bathtub.

In fact, the creek is connected to the Atlantic Ocean. Fishermen routinely traveled into the creek from the Atlantic. If a boat could make that journey, why not a shark?

One of the few people who understood this was a retired sea captain named Thomas Cottrell. He had been walking along the creek that day, about a mile and a half from Cliffwood, when his eyes locked on a chilling sight: a large fin slicing through the mud-brown waters. Cottrell stared, dumbstruck. At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. But as the creature came closer, he had no doubt about what it was.

The captain raced to the town’s main street and into a crowded barbershop.

“There’s a shark in the creek!” he boomed.

Cottrell expected everyone to jump up and follow him to the creek. But nobody budged. Some of the men smirked. Then he understood: These people thought he was just a confused old man.

Cottrell had spent years fishing the world’s oceans. He had come face-to-face with some of the fiercest beasts in the sea. He was certain there was a shark in the creek, in the same waters where local kids loved to swim.

He rushed to the dock and fired up his motorboat, steering it up the creek and shouting out warnings.

By July 12, when Joseph, Michael, and Jerry jumped into Matawan Creek, the panic had died down. The boys must have heard about the attacks. But why would they worry? Matawan Creek was 15 miles away from the sea. It seemed as safe as a bathtub.

In fact, the creek is linked to the Atlantic Ocean. Fishermen traveled into the creek from the ocean all the time. If a boat could make that journey, why not a shark?

One of the few people who understood this was Thomas Cottrell. He was a retired sea captain. Cottrell had been walking along the creek that day. Then his eyes saw something chilling: a large fin slicing through the brown waters. Cottrell stared, dumbstruck. At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. But then the creature came close. He had no doubt about what it was.

The captain raced into a crowded barbershop. “There’s a shark in the creek!” he shouted.

Cottrell thought everyone would jump up and follow him to the creek. But nobody moved. Some of the men smirked. Then he understood. These people thought he was just a confused old man.

Cottrell had spent years fishing the world’s oceans. He had come face-to-face with some of the fiercest beasts in the sea. He was sure there was a shark in the creek, where kids loved to swim.

He rushed to the dock and fired up his boat. He steered it up the creek and shouted out warnings.

When Joe, Michael, and Jerry started their swim, they had no idea what was happening up the creek. Nor did they know that a few minutes earlier, a shark had attacked and killed its third and fourth victims: Lester Stillwell, 11, and Stanley Fisher, 24. It wasn’t until the shouts of warning shattered their joyful afternoon that the three boys knew they were in danger.

By then, of course, it was too late.

The shark pulled Joe under the water. Michael and Jerry dove in and tried to wrestle Joe free, but the shark was too strong.

It seemed hopeless.

Then a sputtering motorboat appeared. It was Captain Cottrell and two other men. Those men jumped into the water and were soon part of a terrible tug-of-war with the shark. Joe was sure he’d be ripped in two.

But suddenly, the shark opened its jaws.

Joe was free.

In the boat, Michael gripped his brother’s hand as Captain Cottrell drove up the creek. Back on land, Joe was rushed to the hospital.

Nobody believed he would survive.

Joe, Michael, and Jerry started their swim. They had no idea what was happening up the creek. They didn’t know that a few minutes earlier, a shark had killed its third and fourth victims. It wasn’t until they heard shouts of warning that the three boys knew they were in danger.

By then, of course, it was too late.

The shark pulled Joe under the water. Michael and Jerry dove in. They tried to wrestle Joe free. But the shark was too strong.

It seemed hopeless.

Then a boat appeared. It was Captain Cottrell and two other men. Those men jumped into the water. They were soon part of a terrible tug-of-war with the shark. Joe was sure he’d be ripped in two.

But suddenly, the shark opened its jaws.

Joe was free.

In the boat, Michael gripped his brother’s hand. Back on land, Joe was rushed to the hospital.

Nobody believed he would survive.

The Matawan attacks sent waves of shock around the world. By the next day, America had gone to war—against sharks.

Fishermen charged out to sea, ready to kill any shark on sight. Women with rifles stood on creek banks. President Woodrow Wilson sent a Coast Guard ship into the waters off New Jersey with orders to destroy any shark spotted.

Then on July 14, a man named Michael Schleisser caught a great white shark in Raritan Bay, near Matawan Creek. Inside the shark’s stomach were 15 pounds of what seemed like human flesh and bones.

The world rejoiced.

The man-eater had, it seemed, been defeated.

The Matawan attacks shocked the world. By the next day, America had gone to war—against sharks. Fishermen charged out to sea, ready to kill any shark they found. Women with rifles stood on creek banks. President Woodrow Wilson sent a Coast Guard ship into the waters off New Jersey with orders to destroy any shark.

Then on July 14, a man caught a great white shark near Matawan Creek. His name was Michael Schleisser. Inside the shark’s belly were 15 pounds of what seemed like human flesh and bones.

The world cheered.

It seemed like the man-eater had been defeated.

There were no more shark attacks that summer. But many questions remain about what happened during those 12 days of terror. Was Schleisser’s shark really the killer? Was it one shark or several that committed the attacks? And if it was one shark, what caused it to stalk humans so ferociously?

One thing is certain though. For the Dunn family, that summer of 1916 ended on a joyful note: On September 15, Joe was released from the hospital. As the months went by, he fully recovered.

Joe lived into old age. He rarely talked about his experiences in the summer of 1916. But those who knew him said he always considered himself a lucky man.

After all, he alone had escaped from the jaws of the New Jersey man-eater.

There were no more shark attacks that summer. But many questions remain. Was Schleisser’s shark really the killer? Was it one shark or several that committed the attacks? And if it was one shark, what caused it to stalk humans so ferociously?

One thing is certain though. For the Dunn family, that summer of 1916 ended on a joyful note. On September 15, Joe was released from the hospital. He fully recovered.

Joe lived into old age. He almost never talked about the summer of 1916. But those who knew him said he always thought he was a lucky man.

After all, he alone had escaped from the jaws of the New Jersey man-eater.