Chapter 36 #2
“I’m old, and I’m not selling,” groused Mr. Ricci into the mic. “And I’m not moving. And neither is Tiger.” He looked down at the little dog. “Are you, baby boy?” he said in a singsong voice.
The Chihuahua yipped.
The audience clapped and cheered.
And the City Council Leader banged her gavel. “Order, please.”
When the crowd settled down, the next speaker took the mic.
“Mike Vega,” said the gym bro wearing a backward baseball cap. “Proprietor, Mighty Mike’s Gym. People at the Jersey Shore need a place to get jacked. And they’ve been getting jacked at my place for twelve years. Don’t take that away.”
The audience was right there with him, nodding and yessing and that’s-righting.
Meanwhile, the elected officials onstage looked about as bored as we’d all felt while they were dealing with their old business at the start of these proceedings.
One after another after another, my fellow Atlantic City residents and small business owners told their individual stories. And as I listened, I could relate. We all could.
Well…maybe not all.
The council members didn’t just seem disinterested in what people were saying. In fact, they didn’t even seem to be paying attention, focusing instead on their nails or their phone screens or their water bottles. One member actually had his eyes closed.
So, was this whole hearing a sham? Had the decision to build the stadium already been made? Was the City Council just going through the motions, pretending to listen to the concerns of the community when they were already planning to rule in favor of GMK Partners?
No. No, it couldn’t be.
Could it?
Another speaker concluded their presentation, and the City Council Leader didn’t even bother to stifle her yawn.
As I advanced in the queue, and the next speaker began, I didn’t feel nervous anymore.
I felt angry. That fire inside me had grown to a roaring blaze, and I was definitely not some scared little girl. I was ready for a fight.
And I wasn’t just ready. I was prepared.
When I moved up another spot in line, it dawned on me that, so far, everyone’s objections to the new stadium had come from a place of raw emotion.
Sure, their pleas were moving. But in the end, I realized, they were just words.
On the other hand, by submitting the application for historic status, I’d taken action.
Now, I just hoped my action would be enough to make a difference.
The person in front of me—the owner of a small bike and boogie board rental shop—said his piece. Next, it was my turn.
With a deep breath, I walked up to the mic. I put my folder down on the podium, opened it up, and placed my phone beside my notes and documents. Wanting to keep track of the time, I tapped my clock app and started the stopwatch. Then, I looked up at our City Council.
“I’m Hannah Bell,” I said. “And my family owns the Sunny Side Bed-and-Breakfast on Atlantic Avenue. The business was started by my great-grandparents over a hundred years ago, and I’m the fourth generation to live and work there.”
The council members didn’t seem any more impressed by me than they had been by the previous speakers. But that was okay. I was up for the challenge.
“The Sunny Side means a lot to me and my family,” I said. “But it also means a lot to the Jersey Shore. It’s part of Atlantic City history.”
No reaction from the stage.
“For instance,” I said, powering on, “we all know that the Miss America Pageant is an Atlantic City tradition. But did you know that, when the very first pageant was held in 1921, all the contestants—including the very first woman to be crowned Miss America—stayed at the Sunny Side?”
I thought I caught a few flickers of interest from the officials on the stage.
“And we all know that the game Monopoly immortalizes the streets of Atlantic City,” I said. “But did you know that Charles Darrow, who patented that version in 1935, stayed at the Sunny Side? And that the bed-and-breakfast hosted an annual Monopoly Tournament that he presided over?”
The council member with his eyes closed roused himself and sat up straighter. I took that as an encouraging sign.
“The owner of Atlantic City’s once famous—or infamous—diving horse spent time at the Sunny Side too,” I said. “And so did the first animal rights activists to protest that particular boardwalk attraction.”
The crowd, I could feel, was with me. And as for the officials, well…at least they weren’t yawning.
“And if you’re a fan of the HBO series Boardwalk Empire,” I continued, “you know it tells the story of the fictional character ‘Nucky’ Thompson. But did you know that ‘Nucky’ Thompson is based on the real-life Atlantic City political figure ‘Nucky’ Johnson? Well, Enoch Lewis ‘Nucky’ Johnson spent time at the Sunny Side throughout Prohibition. And years later, to get a realistic feel for that period, so did the creators of the HBO show.”
I glanced down at my phone. I’d already been speaking for almost four minutes. It was time to start wrapping this up.
“Over the years, some of New Jersey’s most famous sons and daughters stayed as guests of the Sunny Side,” I added. “That includes Inventor Thomas Edison, comedians Bud Abbott and Lou Costello, singers Connie Francis and Frank Sinatra, suffragist Alice Paul, and astronaut Buzz Aldrin.”
I paused. I felt like the batter up at the bottom of the ninth with two outs, two strikes, and the winning run on third. I was either going to connect or go down swinging.
“The Sunny Side Bed-and-Breakfast doesn’t just tell my family’s story,” I said.
“It tells the story of the collective past of everyone in Atlantic City. And that’s a story that shouldn’t be destroyed.
” I reached into my folder and held up the application I’d printed out yesterday.
“So, I’ve submitted a request to have the Sunny Side added to the New Jersey Register of Historic Places. ”
An undercurrent of interested murmurs filled the room.
“The application is currently under consideration,” I said.
“And if the request is granted, the bed-and-breakfast must be preserved.” I drew a deep, bracing breath and swung for the fences.
“So, I’m asking you to postpone any decision about the stadium until there’s a ruling on the historic status of the Sunny Side. ”
“Time,” said the timekeeper—but it didn’t matter. I’d gotten everything in under the wire.
Suddenly, the room behind me erupted in cheers and applause. It should have bolstered me, but now that my presentation was over, my anxiety was returning. My stomach was roiling, and my vision started to waver.
“Order,” said the City Council Leader, banging her gavel again. “Order.”
When the audience quieted down, she fixed her gaze on me. “May I see that, please?” she asked, indicating the application.
Hoping to heaven I wouldn’t faint, I circled around to the front of the podium. Some assistant or other quickly crossed in from the wings of the stage. He crouched down, accepted the sheaf of papers from me, and handed it over to the leader.
I stood there, watching, as she flipped through the pages. Then she covered her mic, and her colleagues did the same. They conferred for moments that felt like hours.
The leader removed her hand from the microphone. “Any ruling regarding the new stadium is hereby postponed pending a decision on the historic status of the Sunny Side Bed-and-Breakfast,” she said. “We are adjourned.”
She banged the gavel one last time. And the place went wild.
The crowd surged toward me, surrounding me.
People I knew and people I didn’t know were talking at me all at once, clapping me on the back, trying to shake my hand.
The air around me was so thick with competing perfumes and aftershaves and other bodily odors that I couldn’t breathe.
It was as if I was drowning in a sea of my fellow New Jerseyites.
Then there was a pair of strong, sure hands on my waist. Before I knew what was happening, I was spun around to face—
“Xander!”
He swept me up in a warm embrace, lifting me off my feet. When he put me down, he held me at arm’s length, beaming at me with pride.
“You did it,” he said.
And that was when it really sank in. I did it.