Ann Hall, Restaurateur, 62

Ann Hall was swift and sociable, always racing somewhere, always meeting someone. These traits combined to memorable effect in 1965, when, zipping around in a Mini, she often stretched her tall frame out the window in order to greet people. "She would stand up and wave to everyone while driving," recalls her sister, Frances Riley. "Our mom would be in absolute hysterics."

Ann was born at the Stork's Nest Hospital, outside of Los Angeles. Her early years were divided between New Jersey and Liverpool, England, where her parents had met, and where various family members owned pubs. (Her aunt once gave the boot to some rowdy lads known later as the Fab Four.)

Ann loved to dance, especially in Liverpool. "She wore miniskirts and danced the Twist," says Frances. "There was no one to compare to her on the dance floor." Ann also loved a good lark. She spent her seventeenth summer on the back of a motorcycle, touring the U.K. This, too, left her mother in hysterics.

Back in the States, Ann marched in Civil Rights demonstrations and studied marketing in New York City. She earned a reputation for choosing friends based on inner, not outer, qualities. Her British blood entailed a lifelong fondness for eccentrics (a helpful quality for one destined to open New Jersey's first brewpub).


In 1969, she met David Hall in a Liverpool pub. Handsome but shy, he had exceptional manners, especially for a college student well into his pints. Moreover, he preferred "strong women"—a preference Ann Knight matched to the last degree.

The couple married and set about camping in Mold, England, a not entirely convincing destination for honeymooners. It rained in Mold. And then it rained some more.


David left college to become a merchant sailor, and Ann put to sea with him straightaway. (The groom, forever smitten, accepted jobs on condition that his bride be allowed to accompany him aboard ship.) Together, they visited a host of exotic places, among them Israel, Cyprus, and Malta.

The seafaring couple improvised a nice if unconventional play world for their infant son, Timothy. "We ran a rope up one end of the ship to the other and tethered him to it," says David. "That way, he could run back and forth all he wanted." A cook provided further entertainment, allowing the toddler to toss eggs against the hull.


One winter, the couple were forced to spend Christmas at anchor in Newfoundland. They took a taxi to the nearest town, sixty miles away, and returned with small gifts for their toddler. David yanked an evergreen out of the soil and carried it aboard ship. The next morning, they awakened to find the tree decorated. David's mates, it turned out, had fashioned makeshift ornaments and gifts for their little mascot. It was one of Ann's fondest memories.

When David returned to college, Ann took a job in Liverpool. She wielded strong notions about efficiency and marketing—bosses invariably sacked her—and vowed to work for herself someday.


Following the completion of David's studies, the couple settled in New Jersey. Ann sold Tupperware to make a down payment on their first home. She gave birth to a second son, Christopher, in 1975, and a daughter, Heather, in 1979.


Ann opened her first restaurant, Canterbury Corner, in 1982. The Flemington tea shop flourished during the heyday of the outlet center. (The Halls sold the restaurant in 1996.) In 1985, Ann opened the Ship Inn Restaurant and Pub, in Milford. The restaurant became a brewpub in 1995, specializing in cask-conditioned, hand-pulled British ales.


Ann had the rare gift of promoting her business ventures without the slightest hint of promoting herself. In 2005, she received the New Jersey Restaurant Association's Gold Plate Award. Timothy, Christopher, and Heather have taken the helm, and will run the Ship Inn in addition to their day jobs.

In order to put her children through private school, Ann catered events on weekends. The children grew up working at the restaurants. "We had to do well at school and we had to learn a trade," says Timothy, who brews beer at the Ship Inn while pursuing a Ph.D. at Columbia University. "Mom made sure we had both opportunities and stability."


A fierce protector, Ann knew how to brandish a sledgehammer. (But that, perhaps, is a story best kept for another day.) "She once told us that she would do whatever it took to keep us out of trouble," recalls Timothy. "She said, 'If it means moving to an ice floe, I will pick you up and move you to an ice floe.'"

Ann liked the Beatles, R.E.M., and Willie Nelson; the poems of Dylan Thomas and the novels of Graham Swift. She liked The Daily Show and Little Britain.

In March 2006, Ann was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. It would be difficult to overstate the grace and grit with which she met this challenge. During her final two years, she attended the weddings of her daughter and her son Chris; she continued to operate the Ship Inn; and she traveled throughout the U.S. and abroad, enjoying rides in canoes, sailboats, airplanes, trains, ships, and canal boats. And she danced.

Memorial services will be held on Friday at Countryside Funeral Home, in Three Bridges. Calling hours begin at 9 a.m.; the funeral service will commence at 11 a.m.

Memorial contributions can be made to the Northern New Jersey National Ovarian Cancer Coalition, PO Box 351, Blairstown, NJ 07825 (www.ovarian.org) and to Save the Children (www.savethechildren.org)1-800-728-3843.