Five-year-old Carla Torrey often played alone on the beach in Ocean City, building sandcastles under the watchful eye of a neighbor. Less than a mile in either direction, she could see throngs of strangers jockeying for space, their umbrellas and lounge chairs jumbled together. But here in 1960, along this serene stretch, Torrey’s playmates were the waves and the breeze, the sand and the sky. The princess of Ocean City danced in the foam, vaguely understanding that she enjoyed a special privilege.