It was eighty years ago when the Lakewood Estonian House first opened its doors. Built by volunteer labor from the first Estonian settlers of the rural area covered with pines and oaks rooted in sandy soil, the grounds and clubhouse provided a sense of place. Construction, with its many toils, often resulted in blood, sweat, and tears. And I’d also imagine a lot of jobsite cussing. “Kurat, kus on minu haamer… ja kes jõi minu õlut?”
At first glance, Lakewood, New Jersey is a most unexpected place for an Estonian enclave. New York, Chicago, Los Angeles – large cities – intuitively make sense. But Lakewood? Located about 75 miles south of New York City, the total population of Lakewood in 1946 was less than 10,000 thinly spread out over about 25 square miles. The town, where chickens in coops exponentially outnumbered people in houses, was mostly wooded with the major industry being poultry farms.
Sure, maybe some of the first Estonian arrivals were drawn by the chickens and fresh eggs, especially those with a munasalat tooth. But by cracking the shell and taking a closer look, Lakewood starts making sense. It was an escape from cooped up urban areas, with Atlantic Ocean beaches nearby. Land was cheap. There were other people that knew how to make rosolje, and as a bonus, other people that likemindedly actually thought boiled beet salad is a delicacy. And as family after family started populating the area in the 1930s, by 1946, the Estonian population grew to about 60.
With a generous land donation by the neighboring Lacht family, and now a critical mass of free labor and skill, land development and construction began in 1945 with the first footprint of the clubhouse complete in 1946. Over the ensuing years and decades the clubhouse expanded and amenities were added. An outdoor plaza with stadium bench seating built into a slope. An outdoor bar. A shooting gallery. A basketball court. And of course, a sauna.
Although these physical structures are important to the Estonian House story, it’s the people and memories that make the history. It’s the conversations and laughter during parties that stretched toward, and past, dawn. It’s the folk dancers in woolen traditional garb spinning and smiling in choreographed step. It’s the pleasant sound of accordion music emanating from the steady hands of the pillimees, individual notes weaved into a waltz. It’s the Estonian School children welcoming jõuluvana with song and dance during the Christmas pageant, the smell of verivorstid, potatoes, and dill forecasting the dinner menu.
And you, dear reader, have your own personal memories. Maybe it’s a memory of a passionate pre-reindependence speech demanding the swift exit of the Soviet Union from the fatherland. Maybe it’s a memory of friendships born that last to this very day. An Estonian band that expanded your musical taste. A sports festival where you maybe didn’t win a medal, but you gave it your all. A first dance with a future mate on the well-worn wooden dance floor.
If so, you may be thinking: what does one get an 80 year old clubhouse for its birthday? I’m happy you asked. In this case, the best present is your presence. On September 4th and 5th, 2026, a splendid 80th birthday anniversary celebration will take place at the Lakewood Estonian House. And as with any party, the more friends under one roof, the merrier it gets.
Come for the music, where the Estonian award-winning band Justament will provide the birthday jams. Come for the children’s theater and the adult theater performances. Come for the decades-spanning history display of the grounds, and share your stories too. Come for the sauna, the yummy grilled food, the well-stocked bar, and outdoor games. Set up a tent and stay awhile. But most of all, come for the camaraderie. That’ll be an 80th birthday present from you that relives and cements the past, and paves the way for the next decade.
Lakewood, Labor Day weekend, näeme seal!
Andres Simonson
