Phil Jimenez is one of Jones Beach's biggest fans
![Phil Jimenez and his wife, Carolyn, at Jones Beach.](/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Fcdn.newsday.com%2Fimage-service%2Fversion%2Fc%3AYzhlYTU0ZDMtNzFhMi00%3AZDMtNzFhMi00YzY0Yjgw%2Flfcov240804_photos.jpg%3Ff%3DLandscape%2B16%253A9%26w%3D770%26q%3D1&w=1920&q=80)
Phil Jimenez and his wife, Carolyn, at Jones Beach. Credit: Jeff Bachner
It’s a cool early summer evening at Jones Beach State Park and an azure sky to the west gives way to a line of clouds — a good indicator that it might not be the best night to see a sunset.
No matter. Phil Jimenez and his wife, Carolyn, aren’t going to let a few clouds keep them from appreciating the place that has been such an important part of their lives over so many decades. As the pair alight from their SUV in the parking lot of Field 10, Phil Jimenez is immediately spotted by two guys in cargo shorts and golf shirts.
“Look,” said one. “The mayor is here!”
“There goes the neighborhood!” joked the other.
Jimenez, 74, laughed. He doesn’t mind being teased, but he does want to set the record straight: While he calls it “endearing” that some beachgoers refer to him as the Mayor of Jones Beach, “I would never describe myself that way.”
Despite his protestations, Jimenez could be considered a sort of mayor for the digital age. As moderator of the popular Facebook group Jones Beach Club, Jimenez (pronounced with a hard “J”) helps manage a site that boasts more than 26,500 members. To put that in perspective, the website Search Engine Journal reports the median number of members for the estimated 70 million Facebook groups is about 100.
Jimenez takes his role seriously, both online and off: The Freeport resident is the group’s applauder-in-chief (he’s often the first to leave an admiring comment on the many photos members love to post); he is a supporter of the park’s events (he and his wife often attend concerts at the boardwalk bandshell); and he is the extoller of all things Jones Beach (“Gotta love sunset at Field 10!” he gushed on one recent post).
![Members of the Jones Beach Club outside the Field 10...](/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Fcdn.newsday.com%2Fimage-service%2Fversion%2Fc%3AZjdlZmNkNDMtYTIyNS00%3ANDMtYTIyNS00ODhmYmQ4%2Flfcov240804_photos.jpg%3Ff%3DLandscape%2B16%253A9%26w%3D768%26q%3D1&w=1920&q=80)
Members of the Jones Beach Club outside the Field 10 bait and tackle shop. Credit: Newsday/Steve Pfost
NOT A DAY AT THE BEACH
As moderator, his job is not always pleasant: Jimenez said there have been times when he has had to referee debates and, when comments get ugly — as they sometimes do on social media — he has the power to block users or terminate discussion threads.
And thus, the unofficial Mayor of Jones Beach shares something in common with the official mayors of most cities: Not everyone loves him.
“I’ve been told, ‘Phil, you’re a moderator. You’re not supposed to take sides,’ ” he said. “And that’s correct. That’s not what a moderator is supposed to do. But I’m a Jones Beach lover first, and a moderator second.”
Many members of the group — which has no official affiliation with the New York State Office of Parks, Recreation and Historic Preservation — praise him for his enthusiasm and heartfelt feelings for Jones Beach, which celebrates its 95th anniversary on Sunday, Aug. 4.
“Phil does an exceptional job,” said Jennifer Torchetti, 42, of North Babylon, who met Jimenez at Field 10 in 2021 and has been a member of the Jones Beach Club ever since.
“I can’t imagine the time and patience you need to moderate a Facebook group this size at this particular point in time,” she added. “But he makes it work.”
Photographer Roy Mauritsen, 54, of Bay Shore, said he has been visiting and capturing images of Jones Beach most of his life. A frequent contributor to the Jones Beach Club group, he too commended Jimenez’s moderating skills.
“He may skew a little pro-Jones Beach, but he definitely does it well, and he’s evenhanded,” said Mauritsen, who also enjoys the club’s periodic meetups at Field 10. That field — on the bay side of the state park and a popular spot for anglers — was not one he frequented before joining the club. But now, he said, he is a fan.
“It’s a little quieter than the ocean beach, and it’s more accessible for the older folks,” Mauritsen said. And he enjoys eating at the bait and tackle shop, which runs a small food service concession. “Both Phil and I are a big fan of their knishes.”
For Donna Yorio, 70, of Plainedge, it was not knishes but birthday cake that bonded her and her family to Jimenez and the club. When Yorio’s mother, Mae, turned 102 in June, her daughter said she organized a celebratory brunch at the West Bath House restaurant, Gatsby on the Ocean. Being a member of the Facebook group, she mentioned her mom’s party to Jimenez, who immediately galvanized the club into action, leading a contingent of members into the restaurant at the climax of the brunch.
“They went beyond my wildest expectations,” Yorio said. “They sang ‘Happy Birthday,’ they presented my mom with an award and they gave an oral history of the beach. I cannot tell you how pleasantly surprised my family was by what they did.”
The centenarian birthday girl enjoyed it too. “I had a wonderful time,” Mae Yorio confirmed during a recent phone interview.
The impromptu visit made an impact on the guests as well, Donna Yorio said. “At the party, there were people who have lived on Long Island their whole lives but had lost their appreciation for Jones Beach,” she recalled. “He rekindled their interest. My neighbors and friends who were there that day told me, ‘I’m going to start going again.’ ”
![Phil and Carolyn Jimenez in an undated photo at Jones...](/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Fcdn.newsday.com%2Fimage-service%2Fversion%2Fc%3AYjRkZjhhZWYtYWZlYy00%3AZWYtYWZlYy00YmQyODk5%2Flfcov240804.jpg%3Ff%3DLandscape%2B16%253A9%26w%3D768%26q%3D1&w=1920&q=80)
Phil and Carolyn Jimenez in an undated photo at Jones Beach. Credit: Phil Jimenez
THE LOVE AFFAIR BEGINS
Jimenez’s own romance with Jones Beach started decades before Facebook even existed.
The Manhattan native said his family moved to Levittown in 1963, when he was 12. His second summer on Long Island, he recalled being driven to Jones Beach with some of his neighborhood buddies. “Our parents would just drop us off,” he said. “They felt it was that safe.”
Year after year, Jimenez returned to Jones Beach. He said he found himself moving from one field to another, eventually ending up at the main beaches by the Central Mall and West Bath House — which during the 1960s were at the peak of popularity. “It was huge crowds then, blanket to blanket,” he said. “We would spend the whole day there, rocking and rolling in the waves. We were stuck in our own little heaven.”
The surf wasn’t the only attraction for young Jimenez and his friends.
“We discovered girls at Jones Beach,” he said.
One in particular. It was the summer of 1966, and Carolyn Jimenez, now 75, remembers it well. She was riding the bus to Freeport after a day at the beach. “This guy sat down next to me and put his arm around me,” she recalled. “And he said something like, ‘Do you want to be beach buddies?’ I thought, ‘What is with this guy?’ ”
“She removed my arm like a piece of seaweed,” her future husband interjected.
From such inauspicious adolescent beginnings a serious relationship grew. Carolyn Kurkowski, as she was known then, went to East Meadow High School, while Jimenez was at W.T. Clarke High in Westbury. “We both went to each other’s Class of ’67 proms,” he said. “After the two late nights, we spent both early mornings at Jones Beach snuggling under blankets at sunrise.”
Their love affair — with each other and Jones Beach — continued after they were married and became parents. “There were days crossing the sand with five children, playpens, cooler, umbrellas,” he recalled with a chuckle. “I felt like a pack animal.”
After they became grandparents, the couple continued to frequent the beach, sometimes with one or more of their 17 grandchildren in tow. “Oh yeah, they love it, too,” Jimenez said. “They love building sandcastles and burying each other. Just like we did as kids, of course.”
![Phil Jimenez holds up T-shirts commemorating the 95th anniversary of...](/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Fcdn.newsday.com%2Fimage-service%2Fversion%2Fc%3AMjlhYzc5ZDAtNTI3NC00%3AZDAtNTI3NC00YjE1OTNi%2Flfcov240804.jpg%3Ff%3DLandscape%2B16%253A9%26w%3D768%26q%3D1&w=1920&q=80)
Phil Jimenez holds up T-shirts commemorating the 95th anniversary of Jones Beach. Credit: Newsday/Steve Pfost
ANONYMOUS FOUNDER
In 2019, Jimenez said he came across a Jones Beach fan group on Facebook. He was soon a frequent commenter in the group, which had been started a year earlier by a Jones Beach lifeguard who chose (and still chooses) to remain anonymous. “He needed a moderator,” Jimenez recalled. “I knew something about Jones Beach, I had a love for it, and I could interact with people. So I decided to give it a shot.”
Five years later, he’s still at it — and his presence is not just online.
Jimenez regularly interacts with members at the frequent meetups the group holds at the beach, or during his and his wife’s near-daily sojourns to the beach. “You walk along the boardwalk and you give a wave to somebody,” he said. “Next thing, you’re in conversation with each other.”
That sounds suspiciously like mayoral behavior. But for Jimenez — who worked a number of jobs during his career, including stints as a union laborer in construction and road work — this is his labor of love, his unpaid retirement job.
![Members of the Jones Beach Club with Mae Yorio, seated.](/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Fcdn.newsday.com%2Fimage-service%2Fversion%2Fc%3AYjcxMzdjNmYtMGQzOC00%3ANmYtMGQzOC00MThjNzQ0%2Flfcov240804_photos.jpg%3Ff%3DLandscape%2B16%253A9%26w%3D768%26q%3D1&w=1920&q=80)
Members of the Jones Beach Club with Mae Yorio, seated. Credit: Phil Jimenez
POSITIVE VIBE TESTED
The relentlessly positive vibe Jimenez likes to bring to his posts was tested recently: After the July 4 holiday, the Facebook group was filled with angry comments about the level of trash that had been left behind on the beach. Some claimed that this never would have happened in the past. That, in turn, led to a discussion of modern-day beachgoers that turned unpleasant.
As moderator, Jimenez had the power to terminate the discussion. He did, closing it off to further comment. He also deleted some of the most offensive comments. “It was sad to see such hate and prejudice,” he said. However, he described that kind of discourse on the site as “thankfully rare. I think that in the end the good people who have experience and love for our seven miles of surf, sand and diversity will stand out.”
Jimenez said all who have an appreciation for Jones Beach are invited to the club’s meet and greets at Field 10. And of course, the unofficial Mayor of Jones Beach will be there, welcoming one and all to the place that means so much to him — and many others.
“Phil works so diligently, and he has a huge heart,” said Torchetti. With his work on the Facebook group, she said, “He’s giving us a wonderful gift, helping to bring together people who are rooted at their core by a love of Jones Beach.”
The Jones Beach Club’s next meet and greet will be held at 6 p.m. Aug. 23 at Field 10. For more information, or to join the group, visit facebook.com/groups/JonesBeachClub.
Other Jones Beach notables: From Moses to Rosebud
Just for the record, there is no official Mayor of Jones Beach. But there are a number of names that could make the claim of being the person most associated with the park —going as far back as Thomas Jones, the mysterious 17th-century privateer and whale oil entrepreneur for whom the beach is named; and as recently as Reggie Jones, no relation, who was the longest-serving lifeguard in the park’s history and well-known to visitors and the media. (Reggie Jones died in 2021, having served 64 years as a member of the Jones Beach Lifeguard Corps.)
For a certain generation of children, perhaps the name most indelibly linked to Jones Beach was Rosebud Yellow Robe — the daughter of a Lakota chief who was hired by the state parks system in 1930 and ran the hugely popular Jones Beach Indian Village. At the attraction, which closed in 1950, Rosebud Yellow Robe introduced visitors to Indigenous culture through storytelling and arts and crafts.
And then there’s the man who hired her and became her friend, The Power Broker himself: Robert Moses. It was Moses who envisioned the colossal oceanfront state park that, soon after its opening, was already being referred to in newspapers as “The King of All Beaches.”
But while Moses may have sometimes acted like the King of All Beaches, he most certainly wasn’t the Mayor of Jones Beach.
— John Hanc
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