To his three sons, Mel Bernstein is a great father and family man. To his late wife Barbara, he was a loving husband. Decades ago, he made a living as a stage actor in New York City.
But on weekends in Lowest Greenville, Bernstein assumes a new moniker: Mel The Shell Man.
He parks on a street corner, tosses a sheet over the hood of his white Toyota 4Runner and sets up a beautiful display of seashells that he sells to passersby.
His fascination with shells began in the late ’60s.
He and Barbara were on their honeymoon in Aruba when they met an old man pulling in his fishing boat on the beach. After striking up a conversation, the couple went sailing with the man on his “little skiff” and then visited his home.
Bernstein likened the interaction to Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man And The Sea, romanticizing a moment that would change his life forever.
“We went to his backyard, and it was full of shells and huge, green sea turtle shells,” he says. “I offered what I thought I could afford for all the shells and bought the whole inventory.”
Through a complicated process to export the shells, Bernstein eventually got the haul back to his home in New York City.
“I proceeded to put an ad in The New York Times for the green sea turtle shells,” he says. “My phone was ringing off the hook. I sold every shell in two months.”
Seeing the opportunity, Bernstein began ordering large shipments of seashells and leased out a spot at a farmers market in Amagansett, New York.
“I became a fine craftsman with the shells,” he says. “I was making mirrors, jewelry, all out of the raw shells.”
They named their business Seashell Wonders, and it continued to thrive at markets across the country, moving permanently to Dallas in 1991. Bernstein decided to put an end to the venture shortly after Barbara was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.
“We stopped the day that we set up the booth and Barbara didn’t know what we were selling,” he says.
When Barbara died two years ago, Mel had no intention of ever reviving his passion for seashells.
“I don’t have any money. I sell sea shells. I get paid little by little,” he says. “But I’m rich — these are my riches.”
In August 2022, he was diagnosed with Stage IV prostate cancer that has since spread to his spine.
“I had two choices: to give up and let the cancer take over, or try to find true meaning in my life,” he says.
Bernstein impulsively decided to gather the shells he still had and drive down to Lowest Greenville on a Saturday morning. He parked in front of Alamo Club and spent the day getting back to what he loves.
After returning to the pastime he shared with his wife, being back on his feet and interacting with people who come by his makeshift shop, Bernstein says he has found his true purpose.
“It’s to love those around me. It’s to be honest to those I meet and to give my knowledge in the simplest way,” he says. “I’m 78 years old. I know stuff.”
Shells are the face of his operation, but the consistent human connection is the impetus.
“I don’t just sell shells and take their money,” he says. “I get to talk to people. I get to bring a smile to their face.”
In addition to the pristine and colorful shells on display over his car hood, the Shell Man also puts out a basket filled with small seashells for children to dig through and take home.
“I give every kid that stops by 10 shells,” he says. “Now they always have that memory of getting to pick out 10 shells with their mom or dad. That’s what it’s all about.”
To Mel The Shell Man, it was never really about the shells. Their natural beauty and striking presentation serve as a hook for him to reach out and connect with anyone who stops by.
“I truly believe that everyone’s life has a beautiful, epic story,” he says. “Mine is just unfolding in this way.”
Lately, it unfolds on weekend mornings, making friends out of strangers and memories out of nothing.
“I don’t have any money. I sell sea shells. I get paid little by little,” he says. “But I’m rich — these are my riches.”
