Dear Editor:
In the five years I have resided in Hoboken, I have been struck by a great number of things. Among the most positive is a remarkable sense of community spirit and pride, the impressive number of young entrepreneurs who have created unique businesses that enhance the character of the city, and the rich architectural history. On a less positive note, I have also been shocked at the way Washington Street, particularly but not limited to the weekend nights, is basically turned over to what can politely be called “the party crowd”.
For the last three years I have lived at what my friends and fellow neighbors jokingly refer to as “the Hellmouth”. To be more specific, I reside at the intersection of Washington and Fourth Streets. Besides the idling buses, car alarms and honking horns – admittedly part of the package – residents like myself who live on or near Washington Street are subjected almost nightly to choruses of yelling drunkards, most of whom sound as though they should either report back to their parents in peaceful Montclair or resume their place at the head of a chain gang. Whether the offenders are singing college boys or screaming women (conjuring a vomiting coed at best, or worse, a much worse dangerous scenario), the situation is inexcusable. Add to this cars blaring music so loud that the apartment floors vibrate, and the resulting vandalism that is often evident come in morning light and you have a problem that is not just troublesome but veering towards disaster. Approximately two weeks ago, within the space of 24 hours, I heard one male voice threaten, “Come over here and I’ll blow you away!!” and another yell, “Show me your tits!” Although I can safely assume neither of these tempting offers was intended for me, it was unnerving nonetheless.
Two years ago I spoke up about this issue at a city council meeting. Other than a follow-up note from one of the members, a nice touch, the topic seemed to elicit a collective yawn. “We can’t be sure these people are exiting our bars and not coming home from the Manhattan,” one suggested weakly. “We have flyers posted,” added another. (This begs the question, can drunkards read 12-point font?). It also elicits further questions; is the mayor and town council so afraid of offending bar owners and potential patrons that it refuses to take the night scene up several notches by instituting noise ordinances and adding a couple of policeman to the overnight beat? Does Mayor Roberts’ status as a bar owner make him more reluctant to do so, or is this just a troubling perception? Can they not envision a “Silent Night” program such as the one instituted in Manhattan not long ago that protects the rights and quality of life of all Hoboken citizens? And most importantly, can they be certain that these revelers only stumble a few blocks and up stairs to their beds, and not behind the wheel of a car, a tragedy waiting to happen? Just three weeks ago, one did.
Mayor Roberts and Co. can display developmental plans, unearth grottos, erect playgrounds, and scrub the street after the annual St. Patrick’s Day binge-fest until Frank Sinatra himself comes back to cast his vote. But the fact remains that as long Hoboken’s reputation as a no-holds-barred party town supersedes that as a community that values quality of life, responsible residents and business owners like will continue to depart for quieter, and most certainly, safer pastures. Those with the ability to change this situation and don’t should be ashamed of themselves. And yes, Mayor Roberts, that means you, too.
Pamela Grimaud