Precisely!

Where's FULOP?!?!

and target is an integral part of our community? damn, we're worse off then i thought.

Newport doesn't count, it's this weird community all of its own.

also, newport.

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Ah, but there IS one... oddly enough, in Target.

i am so glad that we don't have a starbucks.

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this article was originally in the first issue of Downtown Jersey City magazine. looks like mr. gafner has been shopping it around.

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The rich ones maybe - who can afford Hoboken on an entry level salary?

Anyway, it's annecdotal, but I knew only one person who moved to Hoboken from Rutgers and probably over a dozen who came here.

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I still think a lot more graduates move to Hoboken over JC though.

Brilliant, Ross, brilliant!!!!

Haha. Nice.

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Yes, I often see them as they "seem to reluctantly clutch their Rutgers sweatshirts, resenting them for not being Harvard or another ivy league and for reminding the upwardly mobile soon to be middle-management types that they have not fully overtaken the blue-collar ways of this town, where many commute to their suburban NJ jobs via their no longer new Volkswagen Passats."

or something like that.

I've met a lot of current and former Rutgers' students lately. I think quite a few just moved in on Newark Avenue near Brunswick. They had a party with like 20 people last night!

Also Abbey's Pub just had that big Rutgers game night -- so yeah maybe it is just that with their team winning -- it makes their presence more apparent -- but I do think more and more are moving here.

Welcome any Rutgers people out there -- it's great school!

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Here is another two articles from the "Newark Metro" -- Rutgers' Online magazine

http://www.newarkmetro.rutgers.edu/reports/display.php?id=66
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Gentrification in Downtown Jersey City
By Yaniv Gafner

Many immigrant families are moving away from downtown Jersey City. The rents are becoming unbearable for them. As more and more of them leave, more and more young and single professionals are moving in. Downtown Jersey City is changing from a relatively poor neighborhood into a trendy upper-middle-class one.

In the past three years the area has been undergoing some dramatic changes, especially since the attacks of September 11, 2001. Many financial corporations, including Chase Manhattan Bank, Merrill Lynch and the investment firm Charles Schwab, have relocated to Jersey City or expanded their offices in Jersey City after the attacks.

Many high-rise buildings are popping up near the waterfront, and new restaurants and hotels are opening to accommodate the growing population. ?Three years ago there was nothing here,? says John Mansilla, an office administrator who has been living in the neighborhood for the past seven years.

Mansilla is moving away. ?After many years of renting,? he says, ?I decided to purchase a property. But the prices around here are out of control so I had to look elsewhere.? According to Mansilla, rents and property values are skyrocketing. ?A studio that went for $700 is now $1,200 and a house that went for $200K is now $400K,? he says.

Standing on his balcony on the 20th floor of an apartment building, Mansilla pointed out a huge sign hanging at the front of a building offering ?luxury rentals.? He says, ?There was nothing luxurious about this town when I moved here.? Abandoned buildings and rail tracks can still be spotted in certain areas as reminders of the way things used to look.

?When things started getting luxurious, most immigrants simply couldn?t afford to live in this building,? Mansilla explained. ?So now instead of six or seven family members living in a one-bedroom apartment, you have a single woman lawyer or something.? In many ways, the story of the building is the story of the city. What used to be poor, dirty and cheap is now luxurious, clean and expensive.

In addition to the waterfront development, the city is promoting the restoration of the historic district in downtown Jersey City. The looks of buildings and storefronts is designed to give the district an ?old town? feel while maintaining modern shops and restaurants. The downtown area also enjoys a newly renovated museum and public library.

Mansilla?s apartment is full of packed boxes in preparation for his move. ?I wouldn?t leave if I could afford to buy property here,? he says, ?I like this neighborhood.? As we turned back from the balcony into his living room, Mansilla said, ?I practically lost my view.? Pointing his finger at buildings all around us he says, ?I used to see the entire lower Manhattan skyline, but now all I see is the tip of the Empire State Building.

Still, to the south one can view the Liberty State Park marina, Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. ?At least they can?t build on the water,? Mansilla laughs, closing the balcony door behind him.

Yaniv Gafner is a journalism and media studies major at Rutgers-Newark.

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Here is also another article
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Living in Jersey City, Remembering the Philippines
By Rosanne Lugtu

From Olongapo to Jersey City
In the ?60s, in the Filipino city of Olongapo, my father and uncles would gather in the backyard of their cramped, multifamily apartment building. They would slap away at mosquitoes in the tropical heat of the night and engage in good-humored, slightly drunken conversation over San Miguel beers (Filipino-brewed!) and lechon, strips of pork. Then, as now, they were light-hearted, earnest and family-oriented?the true Filipino, or ?Pinoy,? spirit.

In 2002, on a brisk April evening in Jersey City, my uncle Jesse Zuniga Lugtu pops open a second bottle of Heineken, takes a sip, then places it on the counter next the keys of his Mercedes-Benz. Meanwhile, I pour myself a Pepsi in a Styrofoam cup. We are seated at a homemade bar in my Uncle Pete?s basement. Uncle Jesse is still sober enough to speak intelligently and cohesively but is also relaxed enough to converse easily and openly. His brothers Pete and Hermo?Hermo is my father?chime in on occasion with helpful additions to our discussion.

The brothers awaken each other?s memories as they unravel and excavate the past?memories of sustaining on one sack of rice a week; of humming and hip-swinging to Elvis? ?Hound Dog,? but most vividly of simultaneously supporting and grieving for their brother Angelo, the activist of the Lugtu family. My father and uncles admire their younger sibling?s intense altruism, seeing him as a symbol of what the Philippines needed to lift itself out of hardship. Even from their American homes?with all the provisions of daily life in their grasp?my uncles still apply Angelo?s values of self-sacrifice, perseverance and simplicity. All three brothers enthusiastically share their thoughts, but the discussion remains grounded in the articulations of Uncle Jesse.

A Dream Kindled
Jesse, born on December 8, 1934, in Lubao, Pampanga?a province of the Philippines that has housed the Lugtu family for generations?told his story:

?My younger brothers and I love discussing our roots. We never hide the fact that we come from a very poor family. There were eleven of us children, me being the eldest. We were raised under two parents, Jesus and Generosa?all of us, and only one gainfully employed person in the family: our father. We lived from one payday to another. I have known how it feels to be hungry, short of everything that you needed.?

This was hardly an anomalous story in Filipino society. The nation?s centuries-old oligarchic system has long yielded a huge gap between the wealthy elite and the impoverished majority. Jesse explained his own experiences with class discrimination:

?The poor common folk were severely discriminated against in the areas of housing, employment, advancement opportunities, etc. Our family was denied a very decent house because most of the people who owned apartments wouldn?t offer them to us?they questioned our capability to pay them rent. We settled with what we received, which was usually a one-room apartment, where we all slept on the floor.?

By the early ?60s, Jesse was attending the Feati Institute of Technology to pursue a career in engineering. But because of the heavy financial burden on his father, he had to quit his studies and seek employment. His contributions certainly helped, but in 1961 he married Lourdes Ong and became a family man.

In 1965, he began to work as a payroll clerk at the supply depot of the Subic Naval Base, which served American troops fighting in Vietnam. The base?s budget was in American dollars, so Jesse earned much more than the average Filipino laborer. He was also fortunate to work in a tolerant atmosphere.

?When I was working at the base, I did not know the meaning of discrimination. We were all Filipino, and, although our supervisors were American, we were never refused as inferiors. I loved my job and employer. There was no doubt in my mind that what prompted me to emigrate to America was the fulfillment of the great American dream.?

Martyred by Injustice
The American presence in Jesse?s life in the Philippines during the 1960s certainly played an active role in his future. But this experience can be evaluated on a larger scale. Well-versed in Filipino history, my uncle provided a brief synopsis of American involvement in his homeland. The Philippines were a colony of Spain from 1521 until the conclusion of the Spanish-American War of 1898, when the United States occupied the islands as a commonwealth. Even after the Filipino liberation in 1946, America remained a strong influence?both positive and negative?on the Philippines and its government, education, public ideology and popular culture.

The 1960s was the height of the Cold War between Communist countries and the United States and its allies. ?It was a kind of ?if you?re not with me, you?re against me? among countries in the world,? said Uncle Jesse. The Philippines, traditionally a U.S. ally, was aligned with the United States. But among the Filipino population, there was a division of allegiance.

Many Filipinos admired the democratic system of the United States. When news of President John F. Kennedy?s assassination reached the Philippines, they responded sympathetically. They admired the phrase: ?Ask not what your country can do for you?ask what you can do for your country.? Some of these people included supporters of President Ferdinand Marcos, who held close ties with the United States throughout his administration in the ?60s. The ideals expressed in Kennedy?s statement were followed up in Marcos? campaign speeches, which emphasized values of ?dedication? and ?discipline.?

Meanwhile, other Filipinos saw the United States as imperialist. They instead wanted to model the Philippines after the Soviet Union or China. By 1969, the peso was under pressure, the stock market began a steady decline and prices soared. In this context Marcos? emphasis on discipline, dedication, integrity and simplicity appeared hypocritical and produced explosive protests. Rebellion would later reach its height in the 1970s when Marcos declared martial law, but the heat of insurgency was brewing decades before, especially among the restless younger generations. The 1960s basically marked a period when early efforts were being made to organize and mobilize leftist and nationalist underground organizations. While the civil rights movement was America?s top news, the Filipinos were boiling with their own struggle for equality.

Pampanga?the home of the Lugtu family?was a breeding ground for revolutionaries and the birthplace of Uncle Angelo, more fondly remembered simply as ?Loy.? At that point during the interview, Uncle Jesse paused in deep repose. He then resumed thoughtfully:

?Your Uncle Loy has always been regarded as the personal hero of the family, from me to my youngest brother Gil. He not only devoted his life to help the Lugtus recover from poverty, but he also dedicated himself to introducing a kind of government that would alleviate the living standards of all Filipinos in general.?

Loy was a student activist at the University of the East in Manila. ?Loy?s personal aims,? Uncle Jesse said, ?were improving the livelihood of the average Filipino and allowing for the distribution of the country?s wealth to the masses. His values were through and through positive, humanitarian ones.?

Uncle Loy died at a violent demonstration in 1973. Decades later, my uncles still miss Loy and his altruism. ?The problem of the country was so enormous that it needed a strong leader to resolve the burdens of the poor,? said Uncle Jesse. ?Who else but our personal hero?? My father and Uncle Pete nodded morosely in agreement.

Uncle Jesse explained the enduring problem of the Philippines:
?My personal sense of this situation is that poverty was and still is rampant because of the population explosion; resources are being unequally distributed and infrastructures have remained stagnant. This was and still is aggravated by incompetent leadership, graft, corruption and a lack of determination to cure a sick society by those who are in the position to initiate corrective actions.?

Despite the long, massive struggle?the organizations and demonstrations, the speeches and programs, the loss of lives?the Philippines remains in a state of economic and political crisis. The majority of the victims are naturally lower-class Filipinos.

Rock ?n? Roll Sweeps Pinoy Streets
Amidst the political and economic turbulence of the 1960s, Filipino youth found relaxation, entertainment and hope in their daily lives. The American presence was not simply confined to the political history of the Philippines. Jesse was already in his late twenties and early thirties in the ?60s, but he was well aware of how popular American culture had entranced the Filipino youth?with manic results.

?Did you wear bell-bottoms?? I asked out of sheer curiosity.

?Yes,? he admitted, slightly embarrassed.

Suddenly, boisterous singing resounded from across the room.
My mother and two aunts were ?karaoke-ing? to the Beatles? 1963 hit single ?Love Me Do.? My mother was doing the watusi. Minutes later, she burst into the twist. I laughed hysterically. My father and uncles burst into fits of equally hysterical laughter, made more thunderous by their inebriated states.

My Uncle Pete piped in. ?Look around the bar.?

I looked around the bar. It was a full-fledged shrine to Elvis, complete with humongous posters, scrapbook outtakes and a hip-swinging pendulum Elvis clock! My Uncle Pete was an Elvis disciple.
After gulping down more Heineken, my Uncle Jesse said: ?American influence on Filipino culture? There?s your answer.?

More answers were to come. My aunts and uncles added their stories, transporting me to the ?60s and to the Filipino city streets, where there stood flocks of Filipino youth?men and women with black-haired Twiggy-style pixie cuts, Beatle mop-tops and Jackie Kennedy pageboys. Their oft-undernourished bodies were adorned with miniskirts, cat-eyeglasses, flared hipster pants and hippie-chic blouses with psychedelic prints. At the local theater, the movie listings contained an assortment of popular American movies: The Ten Commandments, The Sound of Music, West Side Story and Bruce Lee flicks dubbed into English. If you switched on the black-and-white television (had you enough pesos to acquire one), the theme to Bonanza might burst through the speaker. Your younger sister might have had a crush on James Dean. Enter a classroom?pick any elementary school, high school or college?and the Filipino teachers would conduct their lectures in English.

?The deeply rooted American culture was imbued in the minds of Filipino. It was and still is 100 percent American. Since this was the game every day, I came to love it and became obsessed with it,? my Uncle Jesse admitted. Naturally, he was not the only one with this mindset. If the Filipino youth could not physically be in America, they could somehow make their visions of paradise incarnate in the clothes they wore, the shows and songs they tuned into and the films they watched.

Changed Backdrop, Unchanged Hearts
For the Lugtu family, the paradiselike vision would not remain merely a vision. In 1968, President Johnson ratified a new immigration policy, which abolished the old quota system, refocused admission requirements on skills rather than on national origin, and ultimately resulted in a flooding of Asian and African immigrants looking for jobs in America. In 1973, Jesse Lugtu and his family arrived at Kennedy Airport in New York. Now in the ?land of opportunity,? one of the first moves he opted to make was to resume his college education. With poverty no longer an impediment, he took advantage of student loans and attended New York University. Joining the American workforce was another significant step, although not a necessarily difficult one:

?Growing up in the Philippines was, relatively speaking, a constant ?struggle.? But personally, daily ?struggle? was not a big deal to me because I was used to it. It was a way of life! This level of experience was my golden asset when I emigrated to the United States. What was a heavy burden to others at work was ?peanuts? to me. I was always trained to be a hard worker. I was rated an excellent worker by my employers, which gave me an excellent shot at opportunities that opened along the way. On the whole, any hardship that we as a family encountered, we encountered very easily and we survived. My family generally are survivors!?

My Uncle Jesse?s third bottle of Heineken is nearly empty, as were those of my father and Uncle Pete. The hours are approaching midnight. All are clearly exhausted, but the enthusiasm that perpetuated our discussion from the beginning is hardly extinguished. Indeed, members of the Lugtu family now proudly call themselves Filipino-American. But despite the contrast between the family?s early history and Filipino-American life?despite the fact that we can now easily afford quality education, designer clothing, automatic cars, a refrigerator consistently packed with food?the Lugtus still retain the same spirit that carried them through hardship in the Philippines.

?And what about now?? I asked.

?I?m in America now, but it?s not the materialistic goods that truly make me happy. Sure, I have my Benz. But I also have a good home, a secure job that pays well, a faithful loving wife, and my children and grandchildren. One of my daughters is a registered nurse in the state of New York,? he said with a tone of resolve and pride. ?When I was growing up, my dream included all of those things. The American dream is achievable for people like us, if the desire is there. I certainly had that desire, and I certainly think that I have achieved that dream,? he concluded resolutely. ?Your Uncle Loy taught us to be selfless, broad-minded and determined. He tried to live what we call the essence of life. We are trying to do that now.?

Rosanne Lugtu is an Honors College student and English major at Rutgers-Newark.

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If you mean Rutgers alums, it's been like that for a few years at least. When I graduated in '02, JC, Brooklyn and Philly were pretty much the three places to go.

Yeah Jsalt is right -- go easy on our Ms. Robin Laverne Wilson -- she is still an undergraduate!

I posted it because I think it is nice to see the take of someone in college.

On a side note has anyone else noticed the FLOOD of Rugters students moving Downtown?

Aw, come on guys, picking on a college journalist?

To be honest, the writing is much better than most of what I remember from the Rutgers-NB paper (The Targum) -- I'd say this kid has potential. If I were the editor I would have removed a few things - projecting onto "the yuppies" what they think about their DnD is a little unfair. Still, it's not a bad snapshot of Downtown - I think it captures something.

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Such as self-serving, self-loathing, pretentious, and precocious student types armed with pad, pen, and agenda.

oooh, somebody wants to be a journalist.

Wow...she managed to put us all very neatly into our own box.

I couldn't help but chuckle when I read "They seem to reluctantly clutch their Dunkin Donuts coffee, resenting it for not being Starbucks or another fancy brand..."

Ummmmm....no!

Downtown Jersey City
By Robin Laverne Wilson -- 10/2006 -- Rutgers Online

The armpit of metropolitan New York is cleaning itself up, applying some deodorant and rapidly becoming attractive to post-9/11 evacuees and transplant pseudo-New Yorkers. A walk through downtown Jersey City reveals a unique hybrid of Brooklyn-style brownstones and historic districts, embattled, old warehouses becoming lofts and artists? studios, the remains of ethnic enclaves, impending new condo towers and a waterside mini-mirror of Battery Park City known as Pavonia-Newport. On the waterfront, a 10-minute walk away, you can see the New York City skyline and feel as though you can touch where the Twin Towers once stood.

Formerly known as ?Jersey Shitty,? and a once-embittered urban center in the shadow of New York City, Jersey City is ironically the true home of the Statue of Liberty. But the freedom to walk safely through its downtown was once a dream.

Crime here may be substantially lower than in recent decades, but it is not gone. Still, the denseness of businesses and residences in commuter-laden downtown Jersey City pushes people out onto the sidewalks. And the infusion of new people, with grassroots community-building initiatives alongside surging property values, has shaken up the crime-ridden status quo. The new blood has taken a consistent stand against knuckleheads roving the streets.

The Port Authority Trans-Hudson commuter train, better known as the PATH, is the artery that gives downtown Jersey City its ultimate appeal. Transplants like me, who are true New Yorkers at heart, acknowledge that it is significantly cheaper on this side of the Hudson. We rely on this 24-hour lifeline that runs from Newark to Jersey City to midtown Manhattan, for only $1.50 each way. The trains are mostly on time, the stations are clean, and the anchor is the Grove Street stop, where blight and boom, apathy and ambition meet and respectfully greet at the pedestrian intersections of Grove Street with Jersey and Newark avenues.

Weekday mornings until about 9:30, the Grove Street station bustles with commuters departing in both directions. The yuppies insert their full-fare MetroCards in the turnstiles for the World Trade Center train, which reopened in 2004. They seem to reluctantly clutch their Dunkin Donuts coffee, resenting it for not being Starbucks or another fancy brand and for reminding the upwardly mobile corporate types that they have not fully overtaken the blue-collar ways of this town, where many commute to their midtown Manhattan jobs via the 33rd Street train.

The artists, intellectuals and bohemians drink Spanish bodega coffee with milk or herbal tea while listening to their iPods. Hopeful students, jaded urban youth and hardened laborers insert their PATH Quick Cards and also wait on the other side of the station for the Newark train. Almost all have a paper in tow: the free commuter papers, amNewYork and Metro, or the New York Post, which is double the price for being 10 minutes away from New York. With that exception, the station is almost as New York City as it is New Jersey.

Above ground, locals raise the gates and prepare for business. Construction resumes on the Grove Pointe Towers that loom over the station entrance; the residential high-rise will be the newest and most inland of local developments. Homeless men and women emerge from sleeping in front of the Employment Commission to resume their duty as dirty but benign neighbors. They sit across from the liquor store with the pigeons in the plaza all day, waiting for scraps of food or change. Women haul shopping carts. There?s the old Latino man who voluntarily directs traffic on behalf of pedestrians outside the station?s busy intersection and tells everyone, ?I love you, man!? John, the old vet with a bum leg whom the Veterans? Administration has abandoned, drinks to euthanize the pain. He always has a kind word and rarely asks for spare change.

City Hall is two blocks away. Its classic marble architecture and courtyard are neither inviting nor foreboding. It just stands calmly, a landmark with little bustle, as a witness to the quiet revolution of commerce and dining on the south side of Grove Street. The newest establishments invite the mid- to moderate income sets. At Marco & Pepe, you could convince yourself that you are in Chelsea, brunching at a sidewalk caf? complete with white tablecloth, napkins, unpronounceable menu items and little dogs parked by the table. The Merchant, right across from City Hall, fills in for a typical bland Wall Street pub?dark wood interior, sports on the televisions and ?80s rock playing on the jukebox. Pedestrian traffic feels imminently foreboding south of The Merchant, as it is not as well lit and the blocks are patchy. But the pub?s late hours help stave off trouble for the sparse sidewalk traffic to the end of the block.

Starving artists and thrifty types shun the idea of Jersey food at New York prices and instead opt for the local ethnic fare. Shadman has some of the best Pakistani food outside of Jersey City?s Little India district. Ibby?s Falafel is addictive, and related to the proprietor of the renowned Mamoun?s in Greenwich Village. Across the station on the corner, Hard Grove Caf? remains steadfast and popular despite health code violations that temporarily shut it down in 2004. North of Newark Avenue, Grove turns into Manila Street in honor of the local Filipino community down the block. La Conguita restaurant on one corner and its grocery store directly across serve the neighborhood with inexpensive and savory Latino food from across the Americas. This corner remains busy, as the bright street lights, restaurants and residences provide comfort for the late-night commuters returning home.

By 5 p.m., Mexican families with flower carts wait outside the train station. Whoever has something to say or sell hawks his flyers to the steady stream of returning people. Newark and Jersey avenues are now at their busiest. It is mostly businesses, with about half of the buildings with residents upstairs. Despite the boom, many buildings a block or two from the train station inexplicably still hold the same ?Lofts for Sale or Rent? signs since I arrived three years ago. What is potentially the most prime real estate in the metropolitan area is often overlooked for the flashy new condos by the water, away from the locals.

Between 7 and 9 p.m., the gates start coming down. Most of the pedestrians briskly walk home, while the extra careful or distant take a $5 cab ride from the station. Newark Avenue remains brightly lit and populated enough to be relatively safe until past midnight, now that a city ordinance has been passed to allow restaurants and bars to remain open until 2 a.m. Afterward, a few 24-hour bodegas, the late-night halal chicken shack and intermittent vehicular traffic keep you from feeling abandoned. I park my bike in front of the bohemian bar, LITM, knowing that it will be there when I return and offer me a speedy ride home. Yuppies determined to keep their property values up refuse to succumb to the occasional spate of crime, and respond with signs to inform the community of incidents and effectively keep watch. As a result, police patrols by car and on foot have increased, and the levels of yahooing and loitering have significantly decreased.

The rest of Jersey City is miles away from the influx of real estate, commerce and finance in the downtown district. Even one stop down from Grove Street, at Journal Square, the blight still trumps any attempts at a boom. Downtown Jersey City is the great compromise: one foot in New Jersey, one foot in New York City, and the best of both.

Robin Laverne Wilson is an Honors College interdisciplinary major senior
at Rutgers-Newark.

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Also a Rutgers Online Photo essay on the
Indian Market, Jersey City
By Binita Shah

http://www.newarkmetro.rutgers.edu/photo/display.php?id=26

The Indian market in Jersey City, on Newark Avenue near Journal Square, provides fresh fruits and vegetables for Indians, Pakistanis and Americans of all national backgrounds and races.

For Indian immigrants, the stores and stands offer both the products that can be found in any American market and special items, such as tindora, a green vegetable that is prepared with curry and served with rice. The merchants also speak the languages of Indian immigrants, such as Hindi or Gujarati. Nearby are Indian restaurants and a Hindu temple.

For me, the crowds and vitality of the market capture the essence of Indian life in Jersey City. That's why I photographed them.

If you want to visit the market, which is open daily except Monday and is busiest from noon to 7 pm, take the PATH train to Journal Square and walk down Kennedy Boulevard to its intersection with Newark Avenue.

Binita Shah, a business major at Rutgers-Newark, lives in Jersey City.