Who Stole Asbury
Park?
by Jerry Guarino
In the halcyon days of 1964,
when simple love songs played on pocket radios
and boys turn their thoughts to girls and their
first kiss, Tony was in the hullabaloo on the
Asbury Park boardwalk, with the other eleven year
old boys, watching the girls dance to the sounds
of The Beatles, Beach Boys and The Four Seasons.
Every so often a girl would come over and take a
boy by the hand onto the dance floor while the
rest of them tapped their feet, nodded to each
other and wondered when some girl would rescue
them from the wall. It was too risky to ask a
girl to dance, but if they took the initiative,
you were safe in the eyes of your buddies and
there might even be a slow dance, a chance to
hold a girl close to you.
“There goes David, with Becky Johnson,”
said Tony. Becky had short, blonde hair, saddle
shoes, knee socks and a plaid skirt. “She’s
a good dancer.”
Tony’s friend Bobby agreed. “Yeah, if
you like dancing.”
Tony nudged Bobby. “Yeah,
if you like dancing.”
Tony was hoping some girl would ask him to dance,
but couldn’t let on to his friend. “The
music’s good though” as they bounced
with the beat.
“Yeah” said the other boys.
The girls, completely smitten with Beatles music,
were dancing, mostly with each other while others
talked and checked out the boys on the wall. As
Tony and Bobby watched the girls dance, another
girl walked over to them from the left. “Would
you like to dance?” said a pretty Italian
girl in bell-bottom jeans and a red Danskin top.
“Me,” said Tony, not sure if she was
talking to him or Bobby.
“Yes, my name is Angela.”
“Sure I guess so. I’m Tony” and he
walked out to the dance floor with Angela as Twist
and Shout played from the speakers. She
turned to him and smiled, then started to twist,
the main dance style at the time and the only
dance adolescent boys could do. Tony watched
Angela and tried to match her while maintaining a
serious expression. Angela could tell how nervous
he was.
“That’s good Tony” trying to coach
a smile out of him. He relaxed his facial muscles
a bit.
“I’m not a good dancer, sorry” as
his sneakers squeaked on the wooden floor.
Angela smiled. “It’s ok.” Her
movements were much more graceful and pretty.
Tony noticed her long hair and bangs bobbing with
the beat. The DJ smoothly changed the song to A
Hard Days Night.
As Tony looked at Angela, his thoughts raced and
before he knew it, a slow song came on; Because
by The Dave Clark Five, another group from the
British invasion. He wasn’t prepared for
this. Tony looked at Angela and she looked back.
He clumsily tried to slow dance, but it didn’t
matter. They were close. Tony held Angela’s
chest close to his but left just enough space
below the waist to hide his newly found
excitement. He wondered if this would scare her
away. His anxiety was answered after the song.
Angela took Tony’s hand and walked toward
the exit. Tony followed obediently, his heart
quickening. He could feel that Angela was nervous
too, her hand moist. As they were about to leave,
Angela turned to Tony. “Can we go for a walk?”
“Sure” he said, trying to hide his own
nervousness. “Where are we going?”
“Down the boardwalk. I
like seeing the rides at night.”
“Yeah, they’re
neat. Hey, would you like an ice cream?”
“OK, a twist please.” Tony ordered two
cones and the couple continued walking. Eating
the ice cream replaced a lot of conversation, as
both of them were entering a new part of their
young lives. When they were finished, Tony took a
napkin and wiped some ice cream from Angela’s
lip, then she closed her eyes. With all the
confidence he could muster, he leaned in and
kissed her. Angela put her arms around Tony and
they kissed again.
“Do you want to walk on the beach?” she
said.
“Sure” both of them smiling now.
They left their shoes under the boardwalk and
walked barefoot near the water, Angela holding
his hand tightly. Tony could smell her hair; it
had a fruity scent, he wanted to tell her without
sounding dumb.
“Your hair smells nice.” Tony was
starting to relax.
“Thanks. It’s my shampoo. Strawberries.”
“Neat. You dress nice too.” Tony couldn’t
help glancing at her small breasts, curving
through the top. He was thinking about kissing
Angela again and hoped she was too.
“Thanks. I like your turtleneck.” They
walked up and down the beach, and then returned
to get their shoes.
Angela gave Tony a look that he understood. They
lay down in the sand under the boardwalk and
spent the next hour kissing and holding each
other closely. It was Tony’s first make out
session and probably Angela’s too. These
were the memories that last a lifetime, the first,
awkward steps into love.
***
It was the summer of 2012
when Tony and his California wife Barbara, in
town for a wedding, drove to Asbury Park, her
first time on the Jersey shore and his visit
reminding him of that magical night in 1964. He
was surprised to find parking close to the beach.
As they walked up the stairs onto the boardwalk,
he noticed something odd. It was deserted; only a
few people on the beach and the buildings that
once held a carousel, stadium and dance hall were
rusty, disintegrated and empty as if they had
been bombed. Tony’s dream memory fell flat.
“What the hell happened here?” he said.
“The beach is beautiful. Why isn’t
anyone here?”
“I don’t know. This was such a great
place when I was a kid. Let’s get back in
the car and go somewhere else.”
As Tony drove, Barbara did some research on her
phone. “I have it. The town went bankrupt
back in the 90s and the city can’t afford to
bring back business. But they still charge $5 to
go on the beach.”
“Only in New Jersey could you have a
beautiful beach and boardwalk and not make money.
No one is on the beach because there aren’t
any bathrooms, food stands or anything else. We’re
not leaving until you see the real Jersey shore.”
They drove up to Seaside Heights and parked.
Walking up the steps to the boardwalk, they saw
what Tony had been hoping for. “This is the
real thing, Barbara.” Thousands of young
people filled the beach, boardwalk and
restaurants. There were hundreds of painted,
wooden buildings with all sorts of food, games
and shops with cheap souvenirs. Barbara’s
eyes lit up when she heard music.
“Hey, look over here. There’s a dance
floor.” She took Tony’s hand and rushed
them over to the music. Can’t Buy Me
Love came on. Tony and Barbara twisted like
it was 1964. Tony thought of Angela as he danced
with his wife.
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