During the recent National Night Out at Bridgeport Pool, my granddaughter Della and I took a short break from the crowds and went on a secret mission. We slipped down over the banks of Simpson Creek to fill a brown paper bag with small muddy chunks of treasure. Just four years old, Della already appreciates our family tradition of scouring “marble beach.”

 

Shortly afterwards, I ran across a column I wrote for The Exponent Telegram when my son Jacob – now nearly 15 – was just a little guy. He and I had recently completed the same type of treasure hunt. It goes like this:

 

On the banks of Simpson Creek, we dug up colorful marble pieces and a little Bridgeport history.

 

The fact that our city was home to Master Glass Company, the successor of Akro-Agate Marble Company, is quite evident – 35 years after its close.

 

Perhaps it was the recent hard rains that washed up a renewed rainbow of glass chunks on the embankment near the factory’s former location.

 

As we walked down the pathway to the water’s edge, we spotted a kaleidoscope of various shades, shapes and sizes.

 

The glistening sun caught the hues of ice blue, emerald and fiery red.

 

Though camouflaged in a muddy coating, other prominent colors included onyx, turquoise and radiant yellow.

 

As we washed pieces off in the creek, they emerged brighter and their images clearer.

 

A small oblong yellow one looked like lemon candy. A larger rounder version reminded Jacob of the sun.

 

Others looked like a nugget of coal, a piece of cinnamon hardtack – or the tip of a robin’s egg.

 

Amber marbles brought to mind real tigers’ eyes.

 

Half circles of crystal clear marble looked like drops of rain which had been frozen in time.

 

Looking at all these treasures made us curious about what they had actually been used for when manufactured back in the 1940s through the early ‘70s.

 

In addition to toy marbles – a recreation icon of the early- to mid-century – other uses included decorative and industrial purposes.

 

As the authentically-produced marble sparkles and reflects light, the material was often used to to make signal lenses and reflectors for highway signs, as well as posts on guardrails.

 

Picking up a small slab of crimson marble, I wondered where other pieces of its kind had ended up.

 

Reminiscent of a Dreamsicle, chunks of swirled marble were likely the remnants of elegant table tops.

And thin jade slivers looked like they had been sliced from someone’s dinnerware. 

 

Several years ago, a major factory on Bridgeport’s Main Street manufactured quality marble.

 

Looking into glass balls that remain, one can’t see the future, but he can get a glimpse into the past.

 

Marble beach – what a treasure. 

 

Julie Perine can be reached at 304-848-7200, julie@connect-bridgeport.com or follow @JuliePerine on Twitter. More "It's Happening" HERE.