The Odyssey of ‘Pretzel Man Steve’

At some point during everyone’s time on earth, life becomes a struggle. For an unfortunate few, life in its entirety is a constant battle just to stay alive, to help loved ones, and to bring some decency and meaning to it all.
Those seemingly cursed to endure unending hardships and tragedies have to be fighters; mentally, physically, and spiritually. One such fighter is Steven Sanders.
Anyone who has spent time in North Wildwood and the immediate areas last summer may have seen a man many call ‘Pretzel Man Steve.’ Adorned in Philadelphia Eagles attire and standing for 12-hour shifts behind a table loaded with soft pretzel goodies, Sanders could usually be found outside a former nail salon at the intersection of Delaware and West 26th Avenue in North Wildwood. He also spent time in Cape May and North Cape May.
The pretzels he sells raises money for the South Jersey Chapter of the National Aid Charity, Inc., a 501(c)3 non-profit group that uses the donations to assist families in need of emergency assistance.
In particular, they focus much of their resources on aiding women and children who have been the victims of abuse, and it is for that reason Sanders endures standing in extreme temperatures day after day.
Scrappy Philly Kid
For Sanders, life has been indelibly marked by abuse. Whether the beatings were directed at him, his siblings, watching his mother suffer from the fists of men, or the women in his life coming from violent upbringings and relationships, the specter of abuse has always haunted him.
So while some may find it surprising that a child who grew up detesting violence eventually became an amateur boxer, for Sanders, it was an obvious evolution.
Raised in the same Philadelphia neighborhood as famed mob boss Angelo “The Gentle Don” Bruno, Sanders’ childhood demanded fighting to survive.
When he realized that his fists could bring his single mother, who worked two jobs, much needed money, he began training and would go on to fight nearly 100 matches as a middle weight pugilist.
Before doing so, Sanders’ mother pulled him aside and begged him never to raise his hands to a woman. He vowed to honor her request.
The early 1990s found Sanders living and training in New Mexico. He was also in love with and engaged to a woman named Christy who was pregnant with twins.
The two had gotten enough money together to buy what Sanders called a three bedroom “dream house” in Albuquerque, N.M. Christy was returning from the bank with a cashier’s check for their new home when everything in Sanders life irrevocably changed.
Driving close to 60 mph, a driver ran a red light and slammed into Christy’s vehicle, killing her and the two unborn children.
The dream became a nightmare.
Descent into Darkness
“I went on a binge,” Sanders sadly states. In his residence in Atlantic County, ‘Pretzel Man’ Steve stared over the shoulder of this reporter at a college football game on TV. His eyes seem focused on the game, but what he saw were recollections of a time spent in soul-crushing purgatory, a stretch of his life he tried to drown in alcohol and then drugs.
Sanders fell afoul of the law and spent five years in prison. It would be an act of chivalry that would turn that sentence into a long and trying nine years.
When Sanders responded to a request for help from a sibling being abused by their spouse, he answered the call. Sanders went to the sibling’s house and an altercation ensued.
Forced to defend his family member, Sanders put his boxing skills to use.
Those actions violated his parole and when the police learned of his boxing career, additional jail time was added to his sentence because his hands could be legally viewed as deadly weapons.
Sanders did his time and gained a reputation as a poet behind bars. Fellow inmates and even corrections officers would ask him to pen a few lines of verse in birthday or anniversary cards, and he gladly did so.
Starting Over
In 2009, Sanders left prison and was determined to restart his life.
Since his personal “reset” he has remained clean and sober and would remain so despite the tragic turns his life would take in the future.
During a single year, his mother, father and a good friend all died. The trifecta of loss made Sanders realize that, in his words, “I am here for a reason.”
By 2010, he was once more in a relationship with a blonde-haired woman named Stephanie, who had been in a troubled marriage which had ended. Together they lived in a Ventnor apartment. Then Superstorm Sandy hit.
What might have been an opportunity for Sanders to find work ended up being another fight to survive.
Over the years he had learned numerous trades such as plumbing, carpentry, and electricity, so he assumed work would come to him due to the rebuilding effort after Sandy.
The strictures of Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) oversight, however, made doling out all reconstruction work the sole prize of big-name contractors. Sanders ended up losing his job because of the federal regulation.
With no income, Sanders was unable to pay his rent and would also go on to lose Stephanie’s car when he couldn’t afford the insurance.
“It was the saddest day of my life,” said the man who had lost more in his past than most do in their entire life.
Homeless after the storm, Sanders and Stephanie wandered through the casinos in Atlantic City for three days until Sanders was able to find a hotel where they could live and for which he worked.
That type of work was incredibly taxing on Sanders. Despite youthful looks, a high school football injury to his knee, years of taking hits while boxing, and a car accident that left him with five herniated disks, had the 54-year-old body feeling decades older.
A Worthy Fight
Also looking for work was Sanders’ girlfriend. In 2014 she landed a job with National Aid Charity. When Stephanie described what the charity did for abused women and children, Sanders recalled, “I had to help. I had to do it.”
A meeting with Alan E. Francis, founder of National Aid, was arranged and the two men hit it off. Francis was impressed with Sanders’ motivation and spirit and assigned him to collect donations in the Wildwoods and Cape May during the past summer.
During the three months, the diehard Eagles fan would spend 80 percent of his time in Wildwood and North Wildwood, standing from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. enduring the blistering temperatures and oppressive humidity.
He suffered heat stroke but kept working the table.
“It’s all about the kids,” Sanders said as his eyes brimmed with emotion. “I don’t want to see innocent kids go through the kind of stuff I did.”
Removing victims from their abusive environment is the first step, and it is something National Aid Charity has done many times.
“We take a needy family and put them somewhere safe.” Sanders proudly stated. They are provided food, clothing, housing and utility assistance and, during the holidays, National Aid brings gifts and food baskets to the women and children.
“I’ve seen results,” Sanders says of National Aid, “I’ve seen clothes on people’s backs, furniture in their house, and food in their mouths.”
Last Thanksgiving, the South Jersey chapter managed to collect around 100 turkeys, and at Christmas gathered up “endless” toys, clothes, furniture, and money for needy families.
It is the people of Cape May County, however, that most impress Sanders. “We’ve become family,” he said of them.
During the interview, Sanders insisted special thanks be given to the people of Wildwood, North Wildwood, West Wildwood, North Cape May and the surrounding areas who generously supported the charity.
Local businesses like Wildwood Bagels, Sunrise Nail Salon, Gorman’s Liquor Store, the local Walmart, the Dollar Tree and Philly Pretzel Factory have provided space, supplies and advertising for Sanders and National Aid.
While Sanders is deeply grateful to those who support his cause, it is the communities he serves and the families he rescues from danger that will forever be appreciative.
In a world so brutal at times, there are heroes like ‘Pretzel Man Steve.’
“These guns,” Sanders tells this reporter as he slowly rocks clenched fists in front of him, “these guns are loaded to fight for disadvantaged families.”
The hands of a scrappy boxer, the hands of a hardened laborer, the hands of a man who loves holding those of his beloved Stephanie, they are the hands used to lift up and protect those who cannot do so for themselves.