Humans of Asbury Park

“Who would you say has had the most impact on your life?”

“What’s your favorite thing about your dad?”

“It stands for “Born To Go!”

“Do you live by that motto?”

“What has been the hardest part of this year for you?”

“If you could give one piece of advice to youth today based on your life experiences, what would it be?”

“Stay Black and stay proud!”

I drive up Springwood Ave. to Ridge on a sunny September morning. The streets are virtually deserted and the empty lots and buildings look foreboding. I am on my way to meet Barsheen Ridout, a 57-year-old, long-time resident of Asbury Park who I befriended while taking street photos. He stopped me in front of the barbershop and asked me about my camera. We got to talking about photography and Asbury Park in general. When I told him about my project, he was suspicious, maybe even angry. His exact words were “What I want to know is why a little white girl gives a shit about the west side of Asbury Park and the people who live here!” I had prepared myself for a question like this, but was taken aback at how much I had upset him. I tried to explain how I felt that all stories need to be told and I wanted to help tell them. This seemed to assuage him a bit, and he begrudgingly agreed to meet with me to be interviewed.

I had asked him to pick a spot in Asbury Park that had the most meaning to him, and he told me to meet him at his childhood home on Ridge Ave., which is where I am headed now. I pull up to the house and Barsheen is waiting for me with a wistful look on his face. He tells me this house brings back so many memories. It was his aunt’s home and he lived with her on and off throughout the 60’s and 70’s. His life has not been easy but the times he spent in this house with his aunt were happy ones. Looking back, he realizes this home in Asbury Park was a safe haven for him.

“I lived here from when I was very little until I was 9. Both my parents were IV drug users. Dopers. My father was a pickpocket and my mother did anything he told her to do. It was in my blood, in my family’s blood. So my aunt was raising me. When I was 9, me and my sister decided to run away to go live with my parents in New York. We moved to Harlem and ended up living in 4 different places over 5 years. We were gypsies. Within the 5 years a lot of stuff happened. My father was in jail for shooting somebody. And then the same guy that killed my mother stabbed me. So my father was in the penitentiary and mother was dead and us kids had no one. So I came back to Asbury and my aunt’s house when I was 14.

I came back after the riots. Everything was so different. It was amazingly different. Sometimes I feel a little disconnected and connected to this place. It’s hard for me to say but every time I came back there was something new. It’s an interesting perspective because I wasn’t always here but I always came back.”

We decided to walk around a little so Barsheen can describe what the neighborhood looked like when he was growing up. There is an empty lot next to his aunt’s house that he tells me there used to be full of trees and the kids would call it “the woods” and play in it. He points out a house across the street and tells me it used to be a candy shop owned by Puerto Ricans. As he talks, I can see that the memories are transporting Barsheen to a different time and he gets more animated as he points out different buildings, recalling his old neighborhood.

 “These all used to be older houses but they all got knocked down and built over. My aunt used to send me to the store around the corner. There used to be a gas station right here. Lake Ave. is a whole lot different than it was back then. The whole avenue was full of stores. That used to the be nun’s home and the catholic hall. There was a church on the other corner.”

 We walk up Lake Ave. and it is hard to imagine the bustling neighborhood he is describing. Barsheen points to one of the very few businesses that are open.

 “That liquor store been there forever, since I can remember. See there are 3 things you can count on in a poverty-stricken area. Liquor stores, churches, and laundromats. Those things will always be there in low income areas. That shit right there’s been killing us for a long time. Because you won’t find that in suburbs. You can’t walk to the liquor store in the suburbs, you gotta get in your car and drive there. But in every inner-city poverty stricken community, you can walk to numerous liquor stores. That fires me up. I used to frequent the store a whole lot in the 80’s. Now understanding the science of control and conditioning, about how the establishment that kills a community can stay in the same spot for the past 40 years makes me understand it a little more. None of it is owned by members of the community. Indians run the liquor store. In the 60’s Caucasians owned it. In the 80’s they took it over. Now I’m not talking about the owners. I’m talking about the condition of the institution. That they can come to a place like this and profit. The circumstances and situations.”

 As he speaks, he raises his voice and is growing more and more upset. A man on a bicycle rides past us and stops to stare. Barsheen tells him “peace” and assures him we are fine, and he rides away slowly. We are standing in front of a non-descript building and I notice that Barsheen is looking up at the second floor.

“Up top here used to be a gambling club called the 54 House. From when I can remember till the late 80’s. I remember it when I was a kid, then I remember when I was old enough to go in it. We’d play cards, shoot dice, it was a social place for the community. Even in the 70’s when I was a teenager the block was alive. It was a construction town. There were a whole lot more people and whole lot more buildings. This was the construction man’s and the common man’s place to socialize. They had a charter from the city to have a social club.”

I am curious about what police presence was like at that time and whether they were ever shut down.

“They [54 House] did illegal activity, however the guy who ran it for years, who was called Rayfield, was partners with a guy called Artesia Moore. He [Moore] was an ex police officer and he married into a family that owned the Arking lounge. He worked for the gangsters. When his father in law passed away, Artesia’s wife gave him the racket for the town. So him and Rayfield ran it. This was left alone by the cops. They were left alone as long as no drugs were involved. I’m not sure what happened to it [54 House]. I left Asbury for a while and when I came back it just wasn’t there no more”

We decide move our conversation to Kula café, a block away. Big glass windows afford us a great view of Lake Ave. We are right down the block from 2nd Baptist church was where Barsheen was baptized. He tells me it was THE church back then. He tells me it’s where “all the uppity people went.”

He tells me that the café we are sitting in used to be a drug store. There used to be a bar across the street called the Turf Club in the 50’s and 60’s. It was home to many famous performers including the then up and coming Clarence Clemmons. He tells me that both sides of the street were full of bars and lounges. There was the Paramount Pool Hall. It used to be a movie theater until Barsheen’s cousin, Robin Hill bought it and turned it into a pool room. On the other side of the block was Cuba’s bar.

“My aunt Evelyn Smith, worked there, she was barmaid. The husband was Cuba and the wife was Mini. When the gangsters came down to Asbury and they would bring black folks with them, they would break the glasses afterward. [They didn’t want to keep glasses that black folks had drank out of] So my aunt would ask if she could take them home instead. So she had a whole collection of glasses.”

I am slightly taken about by this. I am trying to understand the demographics of the west side at that time. I ask if the neighborhood was mixed.

“In the 60’s a lot of Italians owned things, like all those stores we call bodegas now. The paramount was a black club, the turf club was black too. Cuba’s was not. It was the elite. The borderline was the railroad track and Asbury Ave. Past there you didn’t find too many black people in the 60’s. If you went to Cookman Ave., you knew you had to act right. You knew you were someplace special. You better act right in the white folk’s shit. Cuz the borderline was the goddamn tracks. Then the riots happened in the 70’s. After everything was burnt down, there was a portion of Lake Ave. that was left empty on both sides. It never got rebuilt. Recently they built a few homes on both sides. Maybe in the 90s. But it’s never been the same.”

Barsheen tells me that in the 90’s there were black-run businesses in Downtown Asbury Park, which are all gone now; a result of gentrification.

“They had Freeman’s bakery and a black woman ran it. Bond St. and Cookman, that whole side was run by black people. There was a deli on the corner, then a barber shop, then the Jamaican guy’s clothing store. Then they pushed him out by raising the rents and now he’s in Collingswood barely making a living. They pushed everybody out!”

I want to know what growing up in Asbury Park was like for him and how it affected him personally.

“This whole area right here was all lower income. This was all stores and above them were tenements. So when I came back in 79’ that’s when I was hustling. My whole crew was doing it. I would stand on this corner right here and I could see all the way down this block. I could see all the way to the bar and I could see everybody hanging out there. And I’d get butterflies all in my stomach. I was going to that corner, it was my destination. I was going to sell drugs; I knew it was dangerous. And I’ve never told anybody this but every time I did it I was so scared. A lot of my friends died or are in prison. Yeah a lot of them. My father and mother were both dopers. I sold drugs all my life, in and out of the penitentiary. Then I finally went through recovery and got clean and identified that it’s a disease. Part of it was hereditary.”

I wonder out loud if he feels like this is a continuing problem in Asbury Park.

“That’s a really complex topic. Parents passing it on might have a lot to do with it. There’s a documentary and the guy phrased it so well he said “We didn’t bring the guns here, we didn’t bring the drugs here, we didn’t invent no poverty, we didn’t invent racism. But you hold us guilty when we can’t rise above it.”

My oldest daughter for example, is an accomplished lawyer living in Voorhees in a beautiful home. She came from right here. Both her parents were drug users. She was raised in the same house in the same environment as my step son. He’s still bumping his head. So environment plays a part but it also doesn’t. If we had more resources dedicated to us, we would have a better chance to succeed. I’m not holding to the environment 100%. The cocaine epidemic of the 80’s destroyed us [the black community]. Every block had a crack house. Everybody in this community was smoking. It affected everything very badly. That effected the next generation. I’m a survivor of it. I know people in the penitentiary for life because of it. I have close friends who died because of it. My mother’s dead because of it. This isn’t something I read about, it’s something I’ve lived.

I’ve been pondering on your question you asked me the other day about how we feel about the gentrification. One: why would you want to be someplace where they don’t want you anyway? And two: if you don’t own anything in the community, the community ain’t yours. It’s who owns it who has the voices when they go to town meetings. There are very few black people that own houses. If you own something you have a voice. But most don’t own. If you don’t own it, it isn’t yours. You and I both know this. Change in constant. And sometimes change is good. Because at one time, in this town everybody knew everybody. Is it all bad? No. This place we’re sitting in is a good change. People died for me to have the right to vote. Medgar Evers died registering people to vote. But I don’t think my vote honestly makes a goddamn difference.”

I ask if he feels like he has emotionally detached himself from Asbury Park. He seems conflicted in that he says he won’t stay some place he feels like he is not wanted, but at the same time this is his home.

“I guess it’s a paradox. It’s hard to explain. No I haven’t [emotionally detached]. I have a son here who just had a son here. I have other family in this city too. I’m 57 years old. I haven’t survived anywhere else but in the hood. This is all I remember and know. This is my home.”

I ask him if he hopes his son stays and builds a life in Asbury Park. And he replies that he hopes he does not. Barsheen wants his son to see the bigger world, see beyond this town. He says he sees too many of the young people here get caught up in it. The ones that might fall victim to the environment. He believes that success means a lot of different things to different people. It has a lot to do with ambition.

“My son lives with his sister, in the same household. His sister is doing really well in school and already has college credits. My son is always with the boys, he’s a member of the Olds. He’s got a job. He gangster raps. He graduated by the skin of his teeth.”

I’m finding it interesting that the girls seem to be more motivated that the boys and I ask if he feels the same way. He says that he knows both men and women who he grew up with who have succeeded in life and built names for themselves in the community. But he admits that the women do tend to do better.

 I ask him why he thinks that is. He gets very quiet, and the silence stretches across the table and engulfs us.

I am not leaving without an answer and I dare to ask again, “why?”

Barsheen’s eyes fill with tears and his voice shakes as he finally replies.

This is an interview I conducted with Amy Quinn in the fall of 2017 for a book project about Asbury Park. Much has changed in the past year and a half in the city, but much has stayed the same. It is along read, but worth your time if you care about Asbury Park and what the humans who have lived here think about its history and trajectory. Thank you Amy for your candor and time.

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Today I am interviewing Amy Quinn, Asbury Park council woman and gay rights activist. It is a very windy afternoon so we have forgone our original plan of walking the boards and are sitting instead at a cozy table at Cubacan. As with everyone else, I am curious to know what drew Amy to Asbury Park in the first place.

The answer is simple. “Gay friends of mine had started to come here. That was how I first heard about it and started to come see it. I bought here when I was like 24. So I guess 17 years ago? I came to visit and bought my house within a week.”

I am taken aback and ask her to clarify. “So, you’d never been here before, came and saw it and within a week had bought your house?”

Amy is very nonchalant. “I bought a little condo on Deal Lake Drive. I saw this old building called the Santander, from the 1920’s, and immediately fell in love with it, and so I immediately tried to get a place. Back then it was relatively cheap, it was different than it is now. I lived in Jersey City but had been looking at places on the Jersey shore and I was looking at Belmar and Bradley Beach and then I saw this place and loved the building.”

I can sense there is more to this story. I ask what made her decide she wanted to move in the first place.

“I wanted to live by the water. And Asbury was the only place I could afford by the water. And there were already gay bars here. Georgie’s was here, the Empress was here, there was a little gay bar called Anybody’s that was here, there was already a gay community here so that was obviously a draw.”

I ask her to walk me through her first impression of the town.

“It was the year 2000. I drove down with some coworkers from my job at Child Protective Services in Jersey City. And they thought I was insane to want to live here and they actually said they wouldn’t come visit. I mean every street you turned down there were hustlers or prostitutes. Like down Cookman and down the waterfront. There was nothing on the waterfront, although there might have been 1 gallery that opened near the McLoone’s space. Cookman was all empty shops, 1 antique store, and a gallery or two. Everything else was boarded up.”

I’m trying to picture the scene and still feel like I’m missing part of the story. “So you came down and everything was boarded up and there were hustlers and drug dealers and prostitutes everywhere. What made you think to yourself “this is a place I want to live?” 

Amy tries to explain. “So there was this Kingsley Deli owned by a woman named Rita Murano, she’s a character and I had stopped in there shortly after I had moved. She ran this deli and she had a cat and there were other characters in there shooting the breeze about Asbury. Even back then you saw an artist community, a music community. The Pony was open back then; the Wonder Bar was open back then. So, you saw some music, you saw some art, and you saw gay people and you take those 3 things and that would absolutely draw me to Asbury.

I argue “Ok but I mean you drive into town, and you’ve never been here before and this is your first impression!”

Amy tries again. “My first impression was the beautiful architecture. I think we have extraordinarily sharp architecture. And I like that. And I saw a lot of characters and I say that endearingly. I like characters. And I saw the Santander. I’ll say without having seen that building, I looked at a bunch of buildings but as soon as I walked into that one I knew it was where I wanted to live. And the Santander is a bit of a microcosm itself, of Asbury park because it has studios, one bedrooms, 2 bedrooms, and then 3 penthouses with like 5 bedrooms. So, you had people in the Santander who were very low on the economic scale and very high on the economic scale. Because if you were renting a penthouse you were doing pretty well, but if you were renting a studio for 500 a month you probably didn’t have that great of a job. So, we had artists, waiters, musicians, gay people, I would argue the Santander was a microcosm of what existed in Asbury park. Super diverse in both profession, economics and race.”

I ask if she was afraid to move down here, especially after everybody told her she was crazy and they wouldn’t come visit.

Amy says no, and reluctantly tells me the one thing that finally makes it all make sense. “So there’s a backstory. I was going through a breakup, so I was running from something sad and trying to start over. I had my high school sweetheart and we were together for maybe 5 years and we had a bad breakup and I had to get out and Asbury was the place that seemed like home to me.

I nod my head and tell her that I think a lot of us have that same story.

Amy tells me that she absolutely loved the characters she met when she moved here. “So here’s one other story. When I moved down here I was working for the state of NJ for DYFUS in Jersey City and I was commuting. I would get home around 9 or 10 and I would take my dog to what wasn’t technically a dog beach then but nobody lived here so it didn’t matter. So I would go late at night and there would be lines of hustlers (male prostitutes) that would be hustling on the North end by the fisherman’s lot. And they were the nicest people on the planet when I would come, and I’d let my dog just run around because I felt so guilty he’d been in the house for like 10 hours. And I would let him run back and forth on the beach and I would stand on the boardwalk with them and shoot the breeze about our day and they would tell me it was too late for me to come down there, they’d offer to walk me a block back. They were total characters and really lovely human beings.”

I am smiling as I picture those nights. I think about Asbury Park now and observe “Obviously, Asbury looks very different now. When did you see the changes start to happen?”

Amy pauses to think. “So I have two different answers for two different areas. I would say on Cookman Ave. the interesting thing has always been that while there were developers and investors downtown, they were smaller and generally people who lived in town, like the Pats. So, the downtown really saw an organic pop up of places. There was a place called Be Green that popped up; another place called Apex gallery. A shoe store. So, you saw those over a course of 5 or 6 years pop up. Some made it and some didn’t but you saw them pop up. And then the waterfront you really didn’t see anything until Madison Marquette came in in 2008 and started to put some substantial money into the waterfront. Cookman was on a trajectory of going up well before the waterfront, and came back in a better and more organic way. Madison swooped in and started making changes. And then there was Asbury Partners and they went under and eventually there was iStar in about 2010.” 

I am curious about the characters in town. I ask her when she saw new people start to come in.

“So I would say we saw a wave in or around 2005 when you started to see some shops and some galleries opening up. And you could rent space that was reasonable. So you could have a gallery and get a space that was reasonable. Which you can’t do anymore. The rents downtown are through the roof now. I continued to see gays move in. I would say we saw younger hipster-ish people moving in and musicians and artists. I would say that’s mostly what we saw in the earlier days. At least downtown, the neighborhoods were riddled with people who had been here for years. So, that’s where you saw all the diversity right? Because we saw a lot of African Americans all through this side of town through about 2008. The housing stock was different back then. It wasn’t $1700 for a 1 bedroom, it was $600. So, you saw a whole lot of diversity throughout the whole town. And if I had to describe the people running the shops I would say they were more people of an artist nature. Be Green was a vegan store before anybody was vegan. I think we’ve lost some of that diversity over the last 17 years.”

I keep hearing the word diversity, but I want to know “was there a sense of community among people of different races? Or did everybody kind of do their own thing?”

“I really have to think about that. So, because there was so much diversity in the waterfront area, I think there was a feeling of community. I’m trying to think of examples of where I felt that. So, my feeling is when you walked down the street in 2000 you saw multiple races not just black or white. You saw Hispanics and Haitians and everybody. There was more of a feeling of cohesiveness and community when you walked down the street than there is now. So, did I hang out at the Baptist church? No, nor do I now. But when you walked your dog you saw more of people of different races that you said hi to. And now you see more of people who look like you.”

I wonder about diversity in the gay community at the time.

Amy seems surprised by the question. “I would say that in the gay community the number one priority is that you’re gay and nobody cares what color you are. Which is why I think the gay community has really gone through a metamorphosis when it comes to bisexual rights. Bisexuals always felt kind of ostracized in the gay community. So, I think in the gay community we never care what color you are so long as you were gay. What we really had to look at was about different spectrums and really come to terms with its not just gay or straight, even though that’s the way we were raised. You used the term bisexual to come out, to soften the blow when you were going to come out when you were gay. When you came out if you used bisexual first, we would say “are you just saying that because you can’t say gay?” So, for me personally it took a long time to say “ok there are bisexual people who are not just using that as a stepping stone to soften the blow. And then the transgender community.”

I ask if she is suggesting that the gay community on the east side was a safe haven for gay people of different races to be themselves when they couldn’t be in their own communities (the west side specifically) and maybe perhaps still is?

“I think in the gay community that if you’re here for example at Georgie’s, especially back when it was less acceptable, I’m not ever going to repeat you’re here. It’s Vegas. I’m not going to say that I saw reverend or priest so and so here. Trangenders were much more rejected than if we’re talking about race. There were absolutely people coming to the bars in Asbury park who were nonwhite who were absolutely not out and there was this sense of we’re not going to say a word. We’re not in the game of outing people.”

I question whether that sense of inclusiveness still exists today. “Do you think that’s changed at all? Because the community has expanded a lot and diversified. There’s a lot less hiding and people are ok with who they are, and so their regular general human stereotypes and attitudes come out. I wonder is the gay community as inclusive as it was back then?”

Amy shakes her head slowly. “I would say no. Well, in some ways we’re more inclusive. We’re more inclusive of the transgender community. In that sense, there’s been an expansion. But in the sense of specifically Asbury Park, I would say there’s an economic element. There wasn’t that level of wealth that there is now. Back then people were buying up Victorians for $30,000, and spending years fixing them up. Now these Victorians are selling for $700,000. I would say there’s been a change or wave from the initial people who came in who kind of fixed it up. There’s been a wave of people who have moved out. And there is currently a different status of gays than were here previously. They may be different people. I’d say an absolute expansion on LGBTQ and I would say because of Asbury’s rise there has been a loss of gays in all economic statuses that used to be here. There is more of a class divide.”

 I shift the conversation back to the early 2000’s. “So you saw this gradual wave of musicians and artists and creative people opening these shops…” 

“And getting on boards and getting involved in local government…”

I ask Amy when she decided to get involved in government.

“I started on the Environmental Commission in 2006/7 and stayed on that and kind of watched how government worked and eventually ran [for city council] in 2009. For a long time, I had criticized the previous councils. I mean they gave away the boardwalk and everything else they did.

I ask her to describe the feeling in town when all that was happening. “What was the attitude? By the people who lived here, or were moving here or had opened stores here, because essentially this place was barren for a long time. And then there were these brave souls who just wanted a home who came here and stayed despite everything that was happening.”

Amy interrupts “And they lost their properties.”

I remind her “You were a part of that. You were one of the people who moved here when you had no real reason to.”

It seems we have gone full circle when she replies “You say that but that’s not true. There were gay bars here, there were clubs and there was sharp architecture.”

At this point I am laughing as I argue “For most normal people, if you’re making a pro and con list, and the pros are there are bars and sharp architecture and your con list is that there are hustlers and drug dealers and crime and your entire neighborhood is boarded up and there’s nothing going on and its terrifying, no sane person would move down here!”

Amy shrugs her shoulders and says “But we did!”

I decide to drop it. “So the non-sane people who moved down here and decided this was going to be your home and you were going to build, how did you feel when the eminent domain happened, when they gave away the boardwalk, when all the redevelopment plans were being made?”

“I was horrified. There’s a documentary about a little old lady Angie Wright Readings who was losing her home and eventually lost her home, who had stayed through the good and the bad of Asbury Park and just wanted nothing more than to die in her home, and iStar had rights to her property and they took it.”

“What was your personal sense? How did your friends feel?”

Amy thinks back. “Ok so keep in mind I’m in my 20’s, I’m going to law school and I’m working a full-time job. So, I’m watching it peripherally and I’m watching people at the meeting at the Berkeley hotel because they couldn’t fit everybody in the council chambers because there were so many people against it [eminent domain]. Hundreds of people were there fighting about the eminent domain. I’m in my mid 20’s and I’m still trying to get my lay of the land and I felt a deep sense of horror and sadness at what was happening. Because properties were being taken. You felt a sense of sadness.”

We both know that despite the massive opposition, eminent domain came to pass and slowly properties were taken. We sit silently for a minute thinking about everything that was lost. Amy asks me to turn off the tape recorder. She tells me that this is a difficult subject for her to discuss because of her involvement in city politics and her public persona. I completely understand. But I am also here to get the truth and to understand her very real and personal feelings about what has happened in Asbury Park. I consider Amy a friend and somebody I look up to. So against my better judgement, I tell her to take some time and think about whether she would like to continue speaking to me or if she wants me to scrap the whole thing. She suggests that in the meantime I interview her friend Carol Torre, who has been active in the gay scene in Asbury Park for over 40 years. We say goodbye and I leave Amy with a decision to make.

3 weeks later, I get an email from Amy. She has decided these stories need to be told. We agree to meet on the boardwalk the following morning.

As we walk to Convention Hall, the morning fog is just lifting and it looks like it’s going to be a beautiful November day. We stop for coffee at AP Roastery and Amy stops to say hello to several people she knows. We decide to walk down the North end of the boardwalk, hoping for a little more privacy and less interruptions. 

I want to know about the gay community in Asbury today. Does Amy feel like there are still a lot of gay people moving in or are they just coming to visit? 

“Hands down there are still gay people moving in. But I think it’s different kind of people. So, when I moved here, it was cheap and it was by the beach and there were gay people here. And the housing stock and rentals were very different. I think it’s a different economic demographic that was here in the early 2000’s that bought up old Victorians and fixed them up and joined committees and commissions and formed political action groups – AP Action was a group really involved in getting gay people representation on commissions and boards in the 2000’s. I’m not sure I see that activism from the gay people coming into town now. And maybe it’s not needed. I think we’re #3 in the country for the most gay-friendly policies in city hall. So maybe people just don’t feel like they need to be active and get involved. I think AP action was about making sure gay voices were heard. The people who came in 2000 were really about seeing a city that had fallen apart come back in an organic way that was like fight-ish. I can’t really think of a better word than that. So, people coming here now, that fight doesn’t exist in the way it needed to then, so the people we’re getting now don’t really have that fight in them. Also, I think a lot of people are coming to Asbury to make a buck.”

I can understand why Amy had to take time to think about whether she wanted to voice these opinions. I ask her how she hoped Asbury would look now, back when she first moved here. Was this how she and the other “pioneers” so to speak had envisioned?

Amy smiles ruefully. “I think not fully understanding how gentrification worked back then; I was like 24. I think we wanted to be successful and I think we wanted to see Asbury Park voted best city. If you had said to me in 2002 that Asbury Park is going to be voted best small city in the United States, I would have said that’s insane. So, in some ways yeah this is absolutely what I wanted. But I think what I didn’t factor in was the whole capitalist idea that people contributed. Because when you’re in your early 20’s you don’t have the foresight to know how things get to where they need to get.”

I ask if she is happy with the way things turned out.

She is cautious in her response. “I’m happy in some ways. I love that I don’t feel like I need an alarm system on my house and crime’s at its lowest.”

I interject. “On this side of town.”

Amy retorts that “throughout the city crime’s at its lowest in 20 years according to FBI statistics. Some of the developments been a good thing, especially downtown which has been far more organic. And then I would say that the stock of housing and rentals and reaching such high levels and pushing people out who contributed to what it is now is truly heartbreaking.”

I ask how she feels about the commercialization of Asbury Park and the push to bring in bigger brands and corporations slowly.

“I think that we as a city would have to keep an eye on that. But I don’t know that we can stop that. For example, right now we’re in a battle over short term rentals. Investors are buying properties in Asbury Park and using them as short term rentals. So, that is now changing the characteristics of neighborhoods because then you no longer have neighbors right, you have mini hotels that you’re living next to, which I don’t love, and the second part of that is that you are now taking rentals off the market. Let’s say you are taking 3 yearly rentals in a multi dwelling unit, and you’ve taken that off the market. One of the biggest complaints we get in Asbury are that there are no yearly rentals. Because they are renting them out short term and making $2000 a night as opposed to $2000 a month. I think we’re rolling that back, we’re going to ban that, and we’re going to do inclusionary renting which means we’re going to make investors have a certain percentage that is affordable.”

I see why it’s necessary, but ask Amy to explain how it’s going to work.

“The developer says they’re going to build 10 units, and we say that 2 of them have to be affordable. And that goes according to zoning. Who decides what’s considered affordable is a little tricky. The county defines affordability. So, is it going to be $400 rent? NO. But it’s going to be maybe affordable to middle class families. That’s one of those things that we don’t have a lot of control over – the defining. It’s tricky. And the commercialization if it comes down the pike is going to be even trickier.”

I decide that we’ve tap danced around the issue enough and make a very direct statement, hoping to hear what Amy really feels about the subject. “As far as commercialization, we’ve been all over the news as this new vacation destination. If you look at all of these promotional videos and ads being put out now, you’re not seeing any black people. You’re not seeing any normal people. It’s all very whitewashed.”

I am both surprised and happy when she does not hold back. “So a perfect example of that is iStar. Here’s the hypocrisy of iStar. They talk about how this is such a great gritty, musical, artsy city and then they build for the people who are the opposite of that. They build for people who are not particularly artsy or gritty or a part of the comeback, but are extremely upper middle class people. But the narrative they sell is that they’re so incredibly supportive of these kinds of people, of artists and musicians and sculptures etc. So, when you’re talking about these advertisements, I agree with you 100% that there’s a huge level of dishonesty in suggesting that Asbury park is looking for artsy people – apparently we’re only looking for extremely rich artsy people if we’re going according to what iStar is building. And we’re setting it up so they [the real artists] can’t stay. We’re building so these people can’t stay here. Maybe the subtle message is that we’re eventually going to get rid of them. I don’t know.”

I appreciate Amy’s candor and decide to push a bit further. “Let’s talk about iStar for a little bit. I’m sure you’ve had to have dealings with them as a person in government. What has that been like for you?”

Amy shakes her head and rolls her eyes as she says “Extremely challenging. I think iStar thinks they are the savior of Asbury park. And you gotta give them some credit for some stuff like the hotel. But then I don’t agree with what they’re doing in other aspects like with the Lanes. I think I have a more complicated relationship with iStar. I think they’re here to make a buck. Do I think they’re here to make Jenn Hampton’s life difficult? No. Do I think they are making her life difficult? Abso-fucking-lutely. I think they’re really bullies about it and I think that’s despicable. But I think their overall goal is to make a buck and at some point that buck being made has been beneficial to all of Asbury park. In the sense that did we need another hotel? Yeah. Did we make them do work for it for work-force development? Yeah. And they did it and did a good job. Which that wasn’t really iStar that was the Salt hotel.”

 I ask if she knows how many people who attended the Salt School Program are actually employed at the hotel currently.

Amy says she does not.

As we are walking back towards Convention Hall, we run into a man walking his pack of adorable pups. He stops us and asks Amy if she is indeed Amy Quinn. He introduces himself and Bruce Booker and says he has a show on APTV (a local TV channel Amy had a hand in starting) and he informs her the channel hasn’t been working on Cablevision the past week. She promises to take care of it and sends an email on the spot. He asks us what we’re up to and I tell him about this project. He asks if he can do a quick video interview of us and suddenly the tables have been turned. He asks me to describe the project and why I picked Asbury Park over other towns in the area. Then he asks Amy how she feels about the project.

Amy is very gracious. “First of all I love Humans of Asbury Park. That’s how I got to know her. I think the gentrification project is very important. I think it’s a very complicated question. I think what we’re seeing right now in the city of Asbury Park is people being priced out. And I think the council, myself included, are scratching our heads trying to figure out ways to stop that.”

He asks her if she thinks we’re growing too big too fast.

“I think this train that we pushed up this hill; we were like go, go, go, and now we’re like wait a minute, let’s get our bearings and that we’re not losing people who were really a part of it.”

Bruce thanks us for our time and we part ways.

Amy and I keep walking and I get back to asking her about iStar. “So, you and I agree they’re just here to make money. The question is, do you think they’re doing things to help the people who actually live here?”

She does not give me the direct answer I am looking for. “I think they went into the Salt School with the best of intentions. But that was Salt Hotels, not iStar.”

I let her sidetrack me for a minute and ask “You don’t think that was just a PR campaign?”

“The city was one of the people who said work-force development. So, it wasn’t in their minds to do it in the first place. So, we’ve made these developers try to incorporate work-force development. I guess I have to think about whether I blame iStar or the Salt School or even the city in are we providing people with the skillset that can find employment in Asbury Park. So, we hired this company to deal with workforce development because its complicated in Asbury Park for a number of reasons. One, because we’re seasonal. Two, because we have a restaurant/hospitality and we have to develop the carpenters and plumbers and all that. So, we have to go through the high school or some kind of vocational school. So, are we providing kids in Asbury with the skills to get these jobs? At this point I’d argue no.”

I tell her it sounds like she’s describing a vocational school type of situation 

Amy nods. “So that’s something we kinda talk about and hope the Board of Ed gets on. And I don’t know if they’re getting on it or not. I think it’s more complicated than that.”

Amy statement strikes a cord with me. “So you’re saying you hope the Board of Ed gets on it. Well here’s the thing. And this is historically a problem in Asbury park. There’s no communication or cohesive plan or kind of collaboration between different parts of government and developers and its every man for himself. Because the developers have their own agenda which is strictly to make money. The city is trying to keep everyone’s shit together. The problem is that there could be more collaboration going on.

Amy concedes. “I 100% agree with you.”

I ask her how she feels about the developers bringing in people who don’t have kids. We know this because upper middle class people with kids don’t want to put their kids in Asbury Park public schools. And they’re also not buying tiny 1 bedroom condos for a million dollars. So, all these people coming in are not going to do anything to help the school system. So, the school system in turn doesn’t help the community. I know that Amy agrees that a large part of the problem is education. When the standards are not high, and you have a very high dropout rate, and you have a school system that needs fixing, then you’re going to have a lot of kids who are flunking out and joining gangs. I want to know how she feels about this cycle.

“I agree the school system is an issue. I agree the gap between East and West is an issue. I think from my perspective, and these are small little things to fix it, but I think it’s far more complicated than me figuring it out. I would say the new wave of people who have come are probably less affected, as opposed to the earlier wave in the 2000’s I was describing. Because those people are still on the school board, are going through the trenches and trying to fix it up. But is the new wave of people coming into Asbury park super cognizant of the school board? No.

I ask what things she feels are being done.

Amy cuts to the heart of the issue. “Can I just say, I think the gap is partly a result of economic circumstances but also partly a result of mistrust. From all the different communities in Asbury Park. From the Hispanic community to the gay community to the African American community, there’s a level of distrust. Here are things we are trying to do to help. One, we’re trying to do something that affordable housing is stopping the people leaving who are being priced out. Whether that’s the waiters and waitresses at Brickwall or the African American community or churches. I think that’s the biggest puzzle we spend our time trying to solve. Whether its through inclusionary zoning or banning short term rentals. Two, workforce development. What we continue to hear from these small businesses on the boardwalk is they’re not getting a skillset that they need from the kids in Asbury Park. So, we hired this company to help us teach these kids the skills they need. Are these very small steps? Absolutely. Are they moving very slow? Absolutely. Could we be doing a lot more? Absolutely.”

I observe a change I’ve seen. “A couple of weeks ago there was that big block party on Springwood Ave. and that was pretty much one of the first times I’ve personally witnesses such a coming together of different parts of the city.”

She Is very excited that I attended and enjoyed it. “The city did that. It’s the first year we did it. Our planner Michele Alonso worked with a guy named Steven Brenner and they put that together. And I think the really great part about that is that when reaching out to get vendors or talk to people about having a mural in front of their stores, instead of sending an email and waiting for a response, Steven went to every business and said this is what we’re doing and would you like to participate. And I think the reason it was so successful was that he used that tactic. That was a super good learning experience.”

I tell her I think that was a huge success and ask if they plan of doing more of those.

“I think so. We had a little bit of grant money to do it. I think we’re interested in doing it again. Do you ever go to the concerts in the park on Monday nights? You will find the most diverse eclectic group of people ever.”

I have an interesting thought and ask “How do you think it would play out if you tried to do an event like that on this side of town with the same people?”

Amy immediately responds “I don’t think the same people would show up. I think it goes back to that level of mistrust. But there’s such an ingrainedness there that there isn’t a quick fix for that.”

I ask if she feels like it’s unwarranted.

She’s honest. “I think Asbury Park had a tremendous amount of corruption in the 90’s and early 2000’s. So no. And I get the mistrust. 

I observe that I’ve heard from people that they feel unwanted on this side of town. It’s obviously not as blatant as segregation was in the 50’s but they still feel like they get looked at weird and the cops stop them if they’re here on the boardwalk and they feel not welcome on this side of town.”

Amy concurs. “People have said that to me as well.”

I ask if she feels that where Asbury is moving now and the plans that are in place now and the development  and the vision for the people who are now responsible for growing this city to where they want it to be, does she feel like that’s going to fix these issues or make it worse? The developers and the new people their bringing in to live in this city.”

We are walking back to our cars and we stop in front of the new building going up on Ocean Ave. I stop and point up to it. “I mean look at this thing. How many people are going to be living in this?”

Amy shakes her head. “I think its 60 residential, maybe more, 40 hotel, commercial and parking.”

I start doing math. “So even if we’re just saying 60 residential. That’s at least 120 people in theory. And we’re not even talking about the hotel or anything else. So, that’s 120 people who haven’t lived here before, who are going to now be living in this community. Do you feel like they’re going to help fix these problems or do you think it’s going to become an even bigger issue?”

Amy struggles with her answer. “I think a small percentage of people might get involved and want to fix the problems, but I don’t think that the overwhelming majority who move into 1101 will. But I’m going to push back on you for a minute. For 17 years, all I’ve heard is this is the biggest eyesore in Asbury Park, that nothing gets done in Asbury Park because of this and so we pushed for this to have some sort of development because everybody hated looking at it. So, you take the good with the bad. Because we didn’t want this to sit barren. And iStar owned it so obviously we didn’t have any say on what they would build. I don’t know how I feel about what they built, but I’m glad it’s being built. In the early 2000, people came in and fixed up all these old Victorians and they got these political organizations. I’m not as inclined to say they’re not going to be involved in Asbury park. Take north beach. Some of the most activist-y women on earth who are involved with reading groups and who are involved in fundraising who are involved in getting the back to school knapsacks with Connie. So, is it all of north beach? No. Its 10 women who don’t want to cross in terms of their gonna get shit done. 

I ask if she’s ok with the demographic of people that we’re selling these apartments to. And the idea that we’re selling them. Which is, come live in this beautiful town that’s a vacation destination and you have access to all this art and “culture” but it’s a whitewashed version of it. People are not going to move into that building because they want to help this community. And it’s not just this building, there are so many other buildings and condos going up. So eventually it’s going to be the majority of people living here that won’t care because the ones that do will get priced out.

“If you could give one piece of relationship advice based on your life experiences so far, what would it be?”

“Loyalty. Ain’t nothing more important that loyalty.”