Greetings from Asbury Park
(Editor's Note: It has been along time since I felt compelled to add an entry, but this rendering of a night on the Jersey Shore was a tale that had to be told. After some consideration, I decided to use pictures taken from my cell phone that are somewhat blurry and unedited, as their condition matches mine on this evening!)
I spent an extra night on the Jersey Shore after putting in
three days’ work at a conference full of educators and sellers of educational
fare in Long Branch. The days were long, and I was ready to unwind in what has
become a favorite east coast hangout of mine.
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| A relic, on so many levels |
Most people—from my generation, at least—equate Asbury Park
with Bruce Springsteen. His first album (yes, they were still albums back then)
was named for the town from which he hailed. Back in the day, even before my generation,
Asbury Park was a thriving coastal town with a boardwalk framed by two casinos
and a popular beach. Time had not been kind to this town, however, and it
gained a reputation as a poor man’s Atlantic City, complete with high crime
rates and an exodus of “preferable” citizens who made their way north and south
to newer, cleaner, and glittering seaside addresses.
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| The Berkeley |
I first spent some time here during those less attractive
days. I was mainly drawn by two famous clubs (one being the Stone Pony) and cheap hotel rates at a stately
and recently renovated hotel with great ocean views from each room. The Berkeley reportedly had a haunted
floor (the fourth, I believe) but also had neatly appointed rooms done in an
art deco style. Both the décor and views were impressive, and both the Stone
Pony and Wonderbar were “bucket
list” material. I promised myself I would return soon.
It took some seven years to get back to Asbury Park, and I
was not booked in the Berkeley. Even so, I did have an even better time upon my
long-awaited return. It was a night full of new experiences and meeting great
people. And, of course, there were the clubs.
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| View from just off the boardwalk |
After parking the mini at the southernmost end of the
boardwalk, I began a casual stroll northward, taking in the smells of several
restaurants on my left and views of the Atlantic to the right. After inspecting
various menus, I settled on the skirt steak dish offered up at Pop’s Garage. The meal was delicious,
complemented nicely by a couple of Tecates and friendly locals who reminded one
that Asbury Park had become quite a dog-friendly town. One patron dined with
her terrier sitting in the adjoining seat. The dog would periodically jump down
to visit strangers who were within leash-length, including me. Everyone loved
the furry customer, at least until her lead got long enough for her to venture
inside.
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| The sign says it all! |
After some friendly conversation, a few of us decided to
join the dog owner for “Yappy Hour” at Wonderbar. It was an easy choice, as
this landmark was the first stop on my evening’s itinerary. The patio served as
a free range for dogs of all kinds (although this Friday was dedicated to small
breeds). The October evening was cool but comfortable, and the chaos of the
playful hounds and Jim Beam on ice made for a unique and entertaining hour
before I headed inside to see the bands playing for the lounge lizards.
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| Amigos, Amigos! |
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| Hey Anna |
Those of us who opted for the bands were treated to several
local favorites. Two intrigued me. The mysteriously named Amigos, Amigos! played
songs from their CD, It’s Okay, They’re
Not Listening. Their look and music were both interesting, but lacking in
definition and direction. I referred to them as “rudderless” to one of my new
friends, who nodded in agreement over the din. As I usually do to support local
artists, I bought a copy of the CD. I must say that when I put it on in the car
on the way home the next day, I was much more impressed. Hey Anna performed next. They were
tight and distinctive, and they had the look of an indie alternative band. I
hope they release a CD in the near future, but I understand their next
adventure is a tour of Japan. Both bands are worth a listen.
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| Polka Floyd |
After Anna’s set, a couple of us decided to check out the
bonfire on the beach, something I saw signs for earlier in the day. By the time
we arrived, they were just about ready to snuff out the last, dying embers. It
would have been a wasted walk to the beach if not for happening across a band
playing for free in the casino. Polka Floyd
played just what you would expect. This night they were performing their
version of The Wall, complete with robust
accordion playing off the lead guitar. Keep in mind, by the way, the “casino”
of which I speak is a large open area for various forms of entertainment.
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| An admirer of the Asbury Lanes gallery |
That thought actually transitioned nicely into the next
stop—Asbury Lanes. I had seen it before, a
couple blocks off the boardwalk from Wonderbar. I assumed it was a bowling
alley. After all, there was a large glowing pin on the marque. Thanks to the
insistence of a weekend visitor from the northern part of the state, I was
treated to something a bit different. I was assured that it was, in fact, a
converted bowling alley that now doubled as a great venue for both local and
national acts. The Orwells just
happened to be onstage when we arrived. The headliner had just gone on, but the
bouncer let us in for free. Artwork on the walls, bacon and grilled cheese
sandwiches, the music, bowling balls and more drinks made this stop a memorable
one that I’m surprised I could remember at all.
The show ended and the place began to shut down. I was
convinced that I was done for the evening and headed toward my car. My new
companion who enlightened me about the Lanes thought that we should instead
make one more stop, as there was a bar with music still emanating just across
the street from where my car was parked. Resigned to making one extra stop, I
entered the club adjacent to the Empress
Hotel.
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| "Cher" |
The bar seemed unassuming enough. Two large TV screens above
the bar held images of sporting events. Only a few people were stationed here,
belying the noise coming from a room around the corner. When we turned that
corner, we did so on a number of levels. What we walked into was a whole other
world of assless leather chaps, glitter, and female impersonators lip-synching
a variety of pop tunes with total commitment.
I was immediately reminded of what I had heard from several locals
during my latest visit, that a new population had descended upon this decaying
town and helped to bring it out of the ashes. Much of those “new pioneers”
seemed to be in this one particular spot. And they were having a grand time
(yes, I avoided the obvious pun). It may have been the booze, but I was even coerced into getting a kiss on the cheek from a "Cher" impersonator who was a dead ringer. It was an unexpected end to a long night full
of twists and turns that made it one of the liveliest experiences I’ve enjoyed
in quite a while.
In short, there is a lot to love about Asbury Park. It may
still have a bit more than its share of crime, and you have to be flexible
enough to accept that it is not the plushy beach towns that surround it. It is
a fun, funky, down-to-earth piece of American pie that the “Boss” should be
proud to call “home.”
