Because the hue and cry was so overwhelming, here’s the link to my guest spot on the Brian Lehrer Show on WNYC (820am, 93.9fm and wnyc.org). I was on because I am one of the people seen in the documentary “Brick City,” which chronicles a year in the life of Newark, NJ (and is airing this week on Sundance Channel.) My scenes (I’m a B character, really) are shot during the monthly radio show “Newark Today,” which I hosted during the time the documentary was being shot. I’m also part of a discussion about urban issues in the NJ governor’s race.

Demonstrators and locals were scarce at Ramos Park Tuesday

Maybe it was the cloudy weather or word on the block that things were caliente, but Wayne Street was very quiet as a dozen or so “local residents” gathered in front of  Angel Ramos Park to show (… outrage?) over the recent shooting near Wayne and Jersey avenues. What they were doing in front of the park, half a block away from the shooting, is a pretty good question. The point, evidently, is that most of the problems on Wayne Street, between Barrow and Jersey, at least, emanate from the park.

A few feet from the benches in front of the park, Odelis and Agustin, two long-time residents of Wayne Street, stood around, wondering what these people were doing here. “Well, I heard something was going to happen today,” said Odelis, a 40-something father of two, who lives up the street, as we chatted in Spanish. “You don’t see too many Americanos hanging around in front of the park like this.“

Odelis, buff with a neat salt and pepper goatee, looks like someone I wouldn’t step to outside of the relative safety of the reporter/bystander relationship. Yet, he’s friendly and polite, almost to a fault, thoughtful and pragmatic. (That’s what I get for prejudging!) He and Agustin, mid-50′s, slight and humble, say they’re cool with the people from over there (meaning Van Vorst Park) coming onto their block and demonstrating against a mostly Latino criminal element that has been a mainstay here for three decades.

“Maybe it will bring some action,” says Agustin, who says he cleans up garbage, including hypodermic needles and weed baggies, from the park every morning. “The police know the people who live on the block and they know the people who are not from around here. Those are the people who are causing the trouble.”

On the sidewalk in front of Ramos Park

The two men say they welcome the newer residents to the neighborhood and hope that their presence will bring an increased police presence. We watch as the small crowd gathers and several residents begin to testify about the recent shooting and the park’s drug trade. A woman from the Van Vorst Park Association comes up to Agustin and asks if he’d like to join the group’s e-mail list “so we can keep you abreast of any developments.” Agustin, who probably has a gmail account like I have a driver’s license, offers his home address. Clumsy, I thought, but progress. Maybe.

“I think they’re sincere,” says Odelis. “We need to integrate ourselves into the community,” he says, motioning to the demonstrators nearby, and to himself. “But, like I said, they look at the young kids here like they’re all the same. So, the kids look at them like they’re all the same. That’s what I mean about integrating ourselves.”

The few people who are there listen politely and then shuffle away towards a meeting with police brass at P.S. # 4, a few blocks away. As the thin crowd thins even further, a young Latina I’ve been standing next to rolls her eyes when I ask her what she thinks of the scene. “They act like there’s a fight and a shooting here every night, and it’s not like that, at all,”  she says, adding that her daughter is in the playground almost every day. “They shot the guy down the block. It wasn’t even near here.”

The woman from the Van Vorst Park Association, which organized the gathering, engages the young woman in conversation as I leave. They seem to agree that it’s not as bad as everyone thinks, but that making the park safer is in everyone’s interest.

Clumsy, I thought, as they walked away together, but progress. Maybe.

Healy: Still smiling

On the day his hometown paper called for his resignation, Mayor Jerramiah Healy was cutting the ribbon at a waterfront press conference. To the casual observer, he seemed not the least bit concerned. The Journal’s carefully-calibrated editorial stated the obvious and called the mayor to task for turning a blind eye and a silent mouth to the corruption that has taken place, and is alleged to have taken place, all around him.

Healy gave his usual “no comment” to my question, which wasn’t “what did you know and when did you know it?” I’m not that interested in whether Healy thinks Councilman Mariano Vega should resign. If you thought he was going to say that his main man should resign when he hasn’t been convicted of a crime, you’re just being an optimist. I asked Hizzoner if he cared to comment about the JJ’s editorial. “My comment is: No comment!” he said mockingly. (Almost funny, considering.)

“That newspaper and its editor – Augie Torres, has endorsed everyone of my opponents. When I won reelection, quite handily by almost anyone’s measure, they said I was now retired, a lame duck mayor,” said Healy, his voice rising. I wondered if he was just pissed off or if he just wanted anyone within 10 feet  of us to know what we were talking about. “It’s an ongoing investigation, and I’m not going to comment every time someone makes a plea and mentions people’s names.”

The mayor corrected me when I said that he would give the tainted campaign contributions “back.” (I don’t know who would get them. The FBI?) “If there were funds that were attained in a wrong way, we’re going to make sure that they go to an appropriate charity.”  But Healy saved his most spittle-soaked vitriol for the guy who’s been poking him in the eye for half a decade, Opinion Page Editor Agustin Torres.

Still has Hizzoner's backing

“He has been printing half-truths, distortions and lies about me for five years,” said Healy. “That newspaper is no longer credible, and hasn’t been for a long time. They are malevolent and unethical.”

“Mayor, there is an insidious cancer in your administration and it is slowly killing the city. Stop pretending it does not exist, or leave office,” read the editorial’s last sentence. (Talk about burying the lede.)  That the Journal’s editorial page would (finally?) call on Healy to step aside, half-hearted as the call was, is no surprise, and not a stretch. But if Agustin Torres is the guy who wrote the editorial (that’s what he does, right?) it’s fair to say that the credibility thingie the mayor raised is worth considering.

Torres was so far in the tank for Louis Manzo in the recent election that it started to show, really obviously, in the days leading up to the election. I’ve been a columnist and newspaper editor, so I know how quickly people will assume your personal preferences from something you’ve written. As a blog publisher, I still get that a lot. Torres was outed a long time ago and the mayor has a point when he says the JJ’s reporting on the city (and his administration) has shown some bias, even before it became obvious that some sort of criminal enterprise was financing the mayor’s reelection campaign.

Torres’ editorial page, which once crowed about all the innovative programs and legislative leadership of Assemblyman Louis Manzo, has said exactly zip about the Assemblyman’s being one of those arrested over the summer. Who the heck knows what the glue is that holds together the special friendship between Torres and Manzo, but it clearly had Torres pulling his punches during the campaign in May, and in the aftermath of Manzo’s fall in July.

Jersey City Official #4 may yet get his comeuppance. It’s hard to imagine how he will survive another six months of guilty pleas and/or convictions, but I know one thing: Mr. Torres, there is an insidious cancer on your Opinion Page and it is slowly killing the Jersey Journal. Stop pretending it does not exist, or leave office.

Looks like he's singing

What a lovely day for a ribbon cutting. On a cloudless afternoon with New York City as the backdrop, Governor Jon Corzine and a gaggle of elected officials marked the opening of the pedestrian walkway that connects Hoboken and Jersey City. There were so many elected officials holding scissors that you had to have a wide angle lens to fit ‘em all in. It made we wonder how, if all of these people were taking credit, it took 100 years to build the connection.

But that would be – snarky. The thing is opened and I won’t quarrel about the deficiencies. I’ve been around here long enough to remember when there were actual piers where all these politicians were gathered, so I’ve waited a long time for this. Best not to look this particular gift horse in the  mouth.

“Can I get you all to move back a little please, so we can let people walk through,” said the burly state trooper, as flacks and press slowly made way for a woman walking with her baby carriage. Access to the waterfront, indeed.

A (political) love that dare not speak its name?

As press conferences go, this one was pretty ho-freakin’-hum. “Governor Corzine! Access to mass transit! Senator Menendez! Stimulus dollars! Congressman Sires! Blah. Blah. Blah. Lefrak, etc. (The one piece of news was the announcement that the walkway will be open 24 hours [in a row!] with emergency call boxes and CCTV to ensure your safety.) It was more interesting to me to watch the body language and to overhear the conversations.

For the record, Senator Menendez was late and Governor Jon Corzione did not walk to the event from his Hoboken crib. Mayor Jerramiah Healy seemed a bit uncomfortable for a mayor at a ribbon cutting. Oh, right. That. Well, it’s not like anyone was running away from him. They just weren’t clamoring to share a pose for the cameras. Healy’s not quite a political pariah, but, he’s getting there. (By contrast, Corzine was all, like, smoochie, with State Senator Sandra Cunningham.) As his poll numbers fail to improve, and more corrupt officials use the words “guilty” and “Healy” in the same allocution, Corzine may yet be compelled to throw Hizzoner under the bus (à la Peter Cammarano). That’ll be your cue to start printing the Governor Chris Christie inauguration invitations.

We’ll have more on Healy (and his thoughts on the Jersey Journal editorial)  in our next post. I don’t wanna make you think it wasn’t a party, though. Because it was! They all said so. There was free coffee (thanks to Jaime “We spent $10 million on the walkway” LeFrak), and balloons, and cute kids from a local charter school. Speaking of LeFrak, he manged to elicit a few sideways glances and chuckles for his longish, self-congratulatory, speech. “I want to thank my staff,” oh yeah, and these politicians here, who are Ok, but have you seen the walkway we spent $10 million on?

Senator Menendez said you “can take the light trail from here.” And I don’t think he was kidding. As the presser broke up and the ceremonial walk to the free coffee and donuts on the Jersey City side began, I (and no other elected officials) just happened to be standing, and then started walking, with Mayor Healy, who was about as pissed as I’ve ever seen him. More on that tomorrow.

Jaime LeFrak: "I'm number 1! I'm nuber 1!"

They all fall down

Dominoes, or dominos (en español), is a deceptively simple game. Although there are a gazillion variations of the game, the basic rule is get rid of all your dominoes before the other guy. Like any great game, dominoes allows for the right mix of luck (for the unskilled player) and skill (for the sharks). It’s the luck of the draw, the hand you’re dealt, that evens the playing field and keeps it interesting.

In the double-6 version of the game, the smart player can determine his opponent’s hand pretty easily, because he knows what to look for. Basically, you have to count what dominoes are on the table. There are seven of every set, (0 through 6).  If you know what’s on the table, and you know what you have in your hand, then it’s a simple matter of addition and subtraction before you get a pretty good idea of what the other guy’s holding. From there, you can put together a strategy for victory.

But if you can’t count, or if you don’t know that you’re supposed to be counting, it is very likely that you’re gonna lose. If you’ll allow me to stretch this metaphor to the breaking point, the guys who pleaded guilty today in the latest corruption scandal are the guys who couldn’t count, or more accurately, didn’t count. They’re the ones who thought they were so on the inside that their hand was unbeatable. They’re just the latest in a loooong line of JC and Hudson County pols and their sycophants who got nabbed playing some dominoes when they shoulda maybe been playing some Hearts.

I shed no tears for the likes of Cheatam or Jaslow. But the game’s still on. In double 6, there’s another end-game gambit, one that leaves everyone holding some dominoes, and no one able to make another move. As I said, the smart(est) player knows what everyone else’s hand is. In this end of game scenario, he (she?) usually wins the game, and gets everyone’s points. The question now I think is, who is that player?

Ultimately, though, any kid will tell you that the best dominoes game is the one where you just line ‘em up and watch ‘em fall down.