After Hurricane, Family Fights to Save Its Livelihood and a Seaside Tradition SANDY HOOK, N.J. - For a quarter-century, the ritual never changed. As the sun began to set over Sandy Hook Bay each summer evening, a man with a white beard grabbed a microphone at a seaside restaurant and began talking about pride and sacrifice, patriotism and service. He invoked the nation's war dead, welcomed visitors from other countries, asked everyone to stand up, take off their hats, hold hands with the strangers at the next table, and give thanks. "The freedom you enjoy did not come free," Ed Segall said. Then he led everyone in singing "God Bless America" with the song invariably ending, to applause and a few tears, just as the sun dipped over the horizon. It is hard to be sure what pains Mr. Segall most this summer: The shuttered stillness at the business he built over a half-century? That void at sunset? The uncertainty and discord over what comes next? "It just feels like the end," said Mr. Segall, 85, on the empty deck of the Sea Gulls" Nest, a restaurant damaged by Hurricane Sandy and facing a maddeningly complex series of bureaucratic hurdles blocking it from reopening. This year's completely gone, and next year, who knows? We'd like to be back. Hopefully they'll put these buildings back together, and we'll have a chance to stay here, but honestly, it doesn't look very good. Mr. Segall grew up in Newark, the son of a Romanian immigrant who became a dentist and died at 49, leaving his wife to raise nine children. He was one of four brothers who served in World War II and its aftermath. One, Seymour, died at Normandy. Mr. Segall returned and fought as a Golden Gloves welterweight boxer, operated an ice cream truck in college, ran concessions at New Jersey state parks and founded a trucking company. In 1962, he won concession rights at Sandy Hook, then a state park. He operated snack bars and souvenir shops out of shipping containers. Over time, makeshift sites turned in to permanent ones, part of what became the Gateway National Recreation Area. In 1996, the federal government built a restaurant there that Mr. Segall ran and called the Sea Gulls" Nest. And what began with Mr. Segall and one of his brothers soon became a far-flung family enterprise and a North Jersey institution where hundreds of teenagers got their first work experience. "All the kids knew that the best place to train is at Ed Segall's," said Muriel Smith, whose son and daughter, both of whom have served in the military overseas, participated in patriotic events at the restaurant. There's really no one like him. Mr. Segall sponsored charitable events for causes like juvenile arthritis, muscular dystrophy and the families of Sept. 11 victims. After a propane tank exploded at his hot-dog stand in 1991, leaving him with second- and third-degree burns over 35 percent of his body, he raised $330,000 for the Burn Center at Saint Barnabas Medical Center in Livingston, N.J., where he was treated. Still into his 80s, he would challenge his many visitors in the active-duty military, dropping to the floor and doing 50 push-ups on the deck. When his phone rings, it plays "God Bless America." Then came Hurricane Sandy. When he returned after the storm, the Sea Gulls" Nest was still standing but the ground-level electrical units, generators, kitchen, refrigerators and office were destroyed. Other concession stands were damaged. His family, including his daughter, Tina Cros, a former lawyer, and son, Scott, a former theater director, began a complicated dance of dealing with insurers on the one hand and the federal government on the other. The insurer agreed to pay only 25 percent of their claim. The government wanted them to amend their contract to provide mobile food service and to continue to insure the property, now wrecked and providing no income, at a cost they could not afford. There have been threats to cancel their contract and find the Segalls in default, essentially cutting them out of bidding for contracts. Senator Robert Menendez and Representative Frank Pallone Jr., both of New Jersey, have asked the director of the National Park Service, Jonathan B. Jarvis, to meet with Mr. Segall. He has prepared four thick binders of history and tributes to remind the government what he has done over the past decades, but is still waiting for a meeting. Instead, food trucks operated by other people provide service at Sandy Hook, and the Segalls wait and worry. "It's more than a business," Ms. Cros said. Everything we've done as a family has been here, every celebration, every nephew and cousin has worked for us at one time or another. It feels like a huge chunk of my life has... She paused. "Been washed out to sea," Scott Segall finished her sentence. Ed Segall noodles around on the computer, and plays gin and golf once a week. He tries to work out three times a week and looks as though he could still get in the ring. He is not ready to retire. "I've got to do something," he said. There was one triumphant day. He was invited in June for a ceremony at the Earle Naval Weapons Station across the bay from the Sea Gulls" Nest, where a commander was being installed. At the end, the departing commander, David J. Harrison, spoke. He said everyone in attendance needed to know about a special person and a special place. He told Mr. Segall's story, and then invited him to come up on the stage. With two admirals and two captains facing a huge flag, holding hands the way patrons of the restaurant did, Mr. Segall led everyone in singing "God Bless America." Ms. Smith, who works at the base and was there, said: "It was the most stunning thing I've ever seen. There wasn't a dry eye in the place. Mr. Segall was touched, too. "It was the crowning achievement of my life," he said. Little Eddie Segall, from this restaurant to that stage. It was almost like it was supposed to happen that way. But it is not the ending he has in mind. Yes, he misses the ceremony, but he is terrified, haunted, by the real possibility of losing the concession at the beach and seeing the business he built for his family obliterated like one more bit of storm wreckage. "I'm just a patriotic nut," Mr. Segall said, "but to be kicked like this...." His mind trails off into places that he never expected to go.