On the corner of Grand and Marin sits a brick box of a bar called the Golden Cicada Tavern. Behind the bar’s car-cluttered driveway, the boys from St. Peter’s Preparatory School practice football on a field that is seven yards shy of regulation-a shortfall that will loom large in this classic Jersey City saga, involving the city, development, the law, some land, and a little guy.
The thought crosses your mind that it takes imagination to build so dreary a structure as the one that entombs the Golden Cicada. Taking understatement to new heights, Ed, a steady customer, says he likes the bar because there’s “no glitz.” There are also no windows. Neon Corona and Coors Lite signs add a modicum of cheer. The inside is as Soviet-era as the outside. It’s dark. No one sits at the black Formica tables.
But on some evenings and on weekend afternoons the bar is crowded. Proprietor Cheng “Terry” Tan is a Malaysian native who became an American citizen in 1978. The bar’s name is the English translation of his late wife’s Cantonese name, Kam Sin. He’s smart, friendly, and speaks English with a slight accent. He offers two televisions, one for what his customers want and one for what he wants-news, 24/7. He can often be seen at the bar tap-tapping on his laptop.
From the look of things, you might think that there was no food to be had at the Golden Cicada except for the little bags of chips and peanuts piled in a bowl. But if you ask, Tan will cook you something in his impossibly chaotic-looking kitchen. Emerging from a jumble of jars, cans, pots, and pans comes chicken and rice, beef and flat noodles with Chinese broccoli, or dumplings. The food is simple and delicious.
But it’s the booze and the ambience that attract the barflies-among them, Jim, a merchant marine; Bob, the go-to guy for heating and air conditioning; Pamela, a retired tug boat captain; and Eddie, the auto parts deliverer whose lovingly rebuilt 1970 Pontiac Tempest is sometimes parked outside.
TAN BOUGHT THE GOLDEN CICADA in 1987 for about $147,000. “It was abandoned and derelict,” Tan says. “It was grandfathered as a bar. The economy went bust back then, so it made more sense to operate a bar than to develop the land.”
Twenty years later, development surges like a flood tide around the Golden Cicada-the Gulls Cove condominiums tower nearby-and the value of Tan’s property has skyrocketed to more than $1 million. A New York developer offered $900,000, but when Tan told him that the property could be seized by eminent domain, the developer slashed the offer to $550,000. Tan told him to take a hike.
EMINENT DOMAIN? Let’s go back to that stunted gridiron. In 1999, St. Peter’s Prep decided to build a football field on the lot that adjoins Tan’s. That same year, the Jersey City Redevelopment Agency (JCRA) got approval for a Downtown proposal, known as the Tidewater Basin Redevelopment Plan. The final draft designated the area encompassing Tan’s property for recreational or educational use, which would prohibit residential or commercial development but be perfect for a football field.
The field wasn’t completed until 2004. Jim Horan, St. Peter’s vice president for planning and external affairs, cites “a capital campaign and massive environmental cleanup” for the delay, recalling that the land was filled with “chains, motors and engines.” The completed field, he says, was “seven yards short in the end zone.”
The JCRA folks confirm that the agency signed an agreement with St. Peter’s offering to aid in the expansion of its athletic field. JCRA Executive Director Bob Antonicello praised St. Peter’s as a school that “bootstraps children into the middle class.” In 2005, the city attempted to condemn Tan’s property and pay him $550,000 for it, but Tan refused, and the JCRA decided to seize it by eminent domain.
TAN FOUGHT BACK. Much earlier he’d sniffed the foul stench of eminent domain in the air and had done his homework. Laptop research had become a cottage industry for Tan. When his first wife was dying of cancer, “he’d read up on medications and procedures and would make suggestions to her doctor,” says Felix, a Golden Cicada regular. “Then he started studying how eminent domain was handled in various parts of the country going back to the Declaration of Independence. He was always in the back room. We’d have to yell to him, ‘Hey Terry, we need a beer here!’
Tan’s work paid off. Lawyers from the ACLU of New Jersey offered to represent him pro bono. The suit had merit. It raised the issue of whether the seizure of private property to benefit another private entity is in the public interest.
Ironically, Tan also had God on his side. It turns out that the state of New Jersey can’t invoke eminent domain to benefit a particular religious organization.
The press, always a pushover for a David and Goliath angle, pounced on the story. Jersey City Mayor Jerramiah Healy stepped in, saying that this was not an instance in which the taking of private property for public use was appropriate, and the suit was dropped.
NOW TAN IS A MAN with a plan. He pulls his “renderings” from under the bar. “Senior housing,” he breathes, “where the Golden Cicada now stands-for the boomer demographic.” Federal and state programs, he says, would allow him to borrow money at a fair interest rate to build affordable units. The picture shows a 20-unit building with a bar on the ground floor.
The Goliath faction sees Tan as just another money-hungry developer. The David faction sees him as a man nearly mowed down by government interference.
“I’m totally against the government being able to take property,” says Joe, a Golden Cicada patron. “This here is America, land of the free, home of the brave, not land of the free, home of the Communist.”
Tan has plenty of time on slow days to research his case for senior housing. In Jersey City, he says, a certain percentage of new housing is required by law to be affordable. The JCRA’s Bob Antonicello disputes that claim, adding that Tan’s project is too small-senior affordable housing usually weighs in at about 100 units and includes parking. Tan counters that he could get a variance for the parking requirement. “The site is near public transportation,” he says, “and seniors aren’t expected to drive.”
Mary, the weekend bartender, concedes that the controversy is a “soap opera that never ends.” Does she want it to end? “No, I don’t want it to end. Of course not!”
BOTH SIDES AGREE ON at least one point. The zoning would need to be changed from recreational to residential for Tan to build his senior housing units. Tan says he’s initiated the debate but acknowledges that the process, which would involve the City Council, could take a very long time.
The Planning Board, which, in 1999, declared the area around Tan’s bar “in need of redevelopment,” may not think that a brick box with a “Budweiser King of Beers” sign out front fits in with the luxury condos that are breeding like rabbits on what has become some of New Jersey’s most valuable real estate.
But, Tan asks, what builder would want property that has no potential for development? The land’s designation for recreational use also leaves ajar the door to eminent domain. But the chance of that beast darkening Tan’s door again are slim-Mayor Healy has made himself clear on the matter, telling JCM through his spokesperson that he is “absolutely not going to use eminent domain on the Golden Cicada.”
Horan, too, struck a positive note. In summer, he says, kids participating in an enrichment program use the athletic field, and when the junior varsity and freshman play, they just have to “concede” to visiting teams that “one corner of the end zone is a few yards short.”
WHEN ISSUES OF ZONING, development, God, and the government were swarming around the Golden Cicada, Tan seemed reluctant to make improvements. One erstwhile bartender had suggested changing the name to “Ships Wrecks” and introducing some “nautical elements.” Pamela, the retired tugboat captain, had donated a set of oars for a wall decoration. At press time, they were stowed on the floor. Others said that lighting and pictures might be nice. A window even.
On a dark December afternoon, when a dusting of slush had deepened the infamous Golden gloom, Tan seemed to have changed his tune. He was clearing the walk on the side closest to Gull’s Cove. He’d hired a new manager named Laika with young friends and fresh ideas.
He was thinking that gold paint would brighten the gray walls. Mary, the weekend bartender, pronounced the new checkerboard ceiling “kinda cool.” Tan was envisioning a karaoke night with words and images displayed on his new 32-inch flat-screen television. And maybe Tuesdays could be gay and lesbian night.
Meanwhile, the Golden Cicada squats like a duck in a flock of swans-a new Hilton Hotel is reportedly going up nearby. Tan continues to play barkeep to the regulars who still like to talk about the time the government ran roughshod over the little guy, and he will fix you some mean bok choy-if you ask.
PHOTOS: MARY PAUL