Fortescue NJ Photography & Birding

Interview continued:

Syboll’s energy changes as he explains his true compensation. “My customers often invite me to join their tables,” he says, “They want to hear my stories, my beliefs. And sometimes, I’m able to bring something out in them—something they haven’t felt in years. That connection—that’s the real gift. That’s my payment. The relationships I build here—worth every difficult moment, and it’s my gift.”

Things can get incredibly stressful, Syboll admits, “But if God came to me today and said, ‘For the rest of your life I’m going to give you this place and you’re never going to make a cent but you can always pay the bills,’ I would dedicate the rest of my life to making people happy here.” He does it because he knows how much joy this place brings people.

On November 4th, the town will vote on whether to allow liquor licenses for local establishments like The Charlesworth. “A liquor license is essential for our business model,” he explains, “In the seven and a half years we’ve owned this place, we’ve maintained a certain atmosphere—nobody leaves here drunk.” His pride is evident as he continues, “Our customers understand responsible drinking; they’ll have a glass or two of wine with their meal, nothing excessive. We’re committed to keeping it that way.  I’ve never wanted to install an actual bar—that would completely change the character of our restaurant.”

He says that they are paying an absurd amount of money for a place where customers must bring their own alcohol. According to him, obtaining a proper liquor license or even a club license would “transform our business completely.” At the same time, the vote is scheduled for November 4th.

Sybol comes from a family where dedication is a way of life. His father, Albert J. Munger, spent decades collecting fishing tackle and eventually built one of the world’s largest collections of Roosevelt rods. Known as the “Father of Antique Fishing Tackle Collecting,” Albert also authored the definitive guide in the field, Fishing and Collecting Old Reel & Tackle & History with Albert J. Munger.

Syboll’s father spent his retirement years in Fortescue, drawn to its resemblance to his childhood home of Chincoteague. As a boy, his father had brought him here once, but the name of the place had faded from memory. Years later, fate intervened when his fishing boat broke down near Cape May. They drifted to Fortescue’s shores—coincidentally on the same day the party boat “Peaches” sank. After helping with the rescue efforts, he stepped onto Fortescue’s weathered docks and recognition washed over him: this was the forgotten place from his childhood. The town, once bustling in its heyday, had seen better times. Both the restaurant and Syboll’s father’s house dated back to 1924, standing as testaments to Fortescue’s enduring character.

Syboll’s mother was a dedicated waitress at Billy G’s in Philadelphia, earning Waitress of the Year honors multiple times. He acknowledges the irony of his career path with a smile. “Mom would be laughing seeing me own a restaurant. Her ultimate revenge,” he says. He recalls calling her during shifts only to be scolded: “Are you out of your mind? It’s the dinner rush!” Now Syboll experiences those same busy periods daily—and according to him, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He recalled that back in the 1980s, locals had posted misleading signs at key intersections—arrows pointing away from Fortescue. They treasured their isolation so much that they deliberately made it difficult for outsiders to find the town. It wasn’t until the 1990s that the signs were corrected, and Sybol himself got lost on two separate trips.

He says this is a different world — the end of the earth. People here are quiet and friendly; even if you don’t like your neighbors, you still wave to them. With only about 250 houses on the island, it feels like stepping back in time, a place that can never really change. He describes the birds and eagles that often visit his yard.

He brings out some awards and two wonderful paintings. He explains that his family was one of the founders of Assateague Island. One of his relatives rode the horse Mysty, featured in the famous book by Marguerite Henry, published in 1947. His relatives are buried next to Misty. The paintings are symbols of his family history.

HONORARY MAYOR

Syboll showed us an honorary mayor certificate he had received, along with a citation from the State and General Assembly. It was clear that he is well-known and well-liked in the community, and that his efforts over the years have earned genuine recognition. His accomplishments, both personal and professional, reflect the respect he has built among locals and the wider region.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the bay in amber light, something shifted in the atmosphere between us. It wasn’t just Syboll’s words or the setting—it was the rare convergence of a person who had found his purpose in a place that needed exactly what he had to give. Through my images, I document the surroundings —not just a sunset and a fabulous restaurant, but the portrait of a man who had discovered the most elusive of treasures: a life of meaning.