What we discovered is that tattoo, despite all the sound and fury in much of the imagery, is actually a delicate walk, an introspect into permanence and representation and ultimately, a very intimate brief encounter with someone who marks you for life.

The Pines Barrens, the cradle of the Piney culture is an anomaly in the Eastern part of the United States.  It is the largest untouched wilderness east of the Mississippi.  In the late 1970s, fears of urban sprawl prompted Congress to pass an Act to protect the Pines and today the New Jersey Pinelands National Reserve contains approximately 1,100,000 acres of land, and occupies 22% of New Jersey's land area.

These simple farmers knew a thing or two about the immensity of life because they too created it, from the seed to the soil to the sun and they were humble before the power of existence and we believe there is no higher intention, no better reason for religion, for faith and no finer practice of both than being in awe together.

It's something about the under-dog, the believer, the dreamer in him that connects him to the state for me.  He is a lifer.  He has never given up on his fantasy and he has tasted it from time to time, enough anyway, that at 76 years old he is still reaching for it.


Whimsy introduced himself as Allen, Allen Crawford and Lady Pinkwater as Susan. When our AD Ryan Bott walked in and said "hey, Lord Whimsy, I'm Ryan," He smirked charmingly and said, "you can call me Allen." He is indeed as noble looking in person as he is in photographs, yet in the flesh he comes off more as a cross between Wallace Shawn and Kermit the Frog.

The boardwalk culture of Seaside has always intrigued me for its innocence and indulgence.  There is no denying that the boards and beaming neon, the games and food, the bars and beaches invite families and fools for love and lust, alike. 


For over a decade Helbing has been leading a weekly weekend hike of 15 to 20 miles around the state. He welcomes all hikers. Participants come from as far south as Delaware and far north as Vermont. The day we caught up with Helbing, there were some 25 others along for the adventure. And he gets paid nothing for this.


Who isn't fascinated by gypsy culture and bellydance? It's the mystery stuff of childhood stories and legends. It's a romantic vision of life. It's ancient and biblical. It's a free and freewheeling rambling culture and art. Anyone who has ever paused on the way to the office or to school or even to home and heard the faint sounds of distant music and smelled the sweet scent of lilacs or incense in the air, and thought to deviate, to follow and investigate, knows the lure of the lore of this sort of "freedom."



The Barnegat Inlet has been the scene of many wrecks and mishaps through out the centuries and even today.  The work of a towboat team can surely be treacherous, but there is a flipside...on this beautiful, clear uneventful September day we were treated to that other angle, the long, sometimes monotonous hours shared between a captain and mate.



We ran into D’Arcangelo at the docks, as he was preparing to go out fishing and trolling the water around the bay jetties for shrimp.  It was below freezing with winds gusting to 30 mph, D’Arcangelo laughed when I suggested it might be too cold for him to wade waist deep in the chop around the lighthouse.  He muttered something about appreciating life through experiencing all earth’s conditions and jumped in.



When the idea came up to travel down to Pilesgrove, to take in the Rodeo, I took the much to re-imagine how the West fit into my childhood, as it was to find out how it fits into New Jersey today.

"Born To Run" had come out two years earlier and Bruce had already had his face on the cover of Newsweek and Time Magazine in the same week, but there was still something of the rising star, the local-boy makes-good about him.  The best kept secret was already being shouted from the rooftops, but the locals were still holding on.  The stories that were later told about "that night" in Red Bank are part of the pantheon of Jersey rock history.


In Jersey we have an almost tragic love affair with summer.  Despite the disturbance and delays it causes, Jerseyans embrace the summer enthusiastically and madly love it until the bitter days of September when karma catches up again, and snatches it from us for all the complaining we’ve done about summer’s children, tourists, shoebees.  We can and will spend the next three seasons regretting, looking forward to and talking about...summer...our greatest love...the one we can’t live with or without.  Driving Jersey thought we could all use a reminder of the good times we've all shared with our old love SUMMER. This is a treat to help you through, a preview of our upcoming episode Driving Jersey: Summer.

Photography by DJ Contributor: Marc Steiner


Mount Zion African Methodist Episcopal Church in Eatontown was built between 1845 and 1846.  James K. Polk was President.  Abraham Lincoln was just setting up his law practice.  It is the oldest church in Eatontown.  Prior to the construction of the church, outdoor prayer meetings were held in the area, which for many years was called "Little Africa" or "Negro Hill."

The Cinnamon Snail, the brainchild, fathered by Adam Sobel first hit the road in February of 2010 and has been serving healthy, socially conscious gourmet meals and deserts around New Jersey ever since.  Sobel, himself, is a character ripe for recounting.  He is something of a mixed media artist, what used to be referred to as a renaissance man.



Used to be wives and girlfriends stood on the sidelines while their men swung clubs, rackets or bats.  Their concern then was for the bruises, broken bones and injured egos of their men, today, because of a resurgence in the popularity of the sport of Roller Derby, the shoe is on the other foot...because she’s the one wearing skates...and a helmet and shoulder and knee pads.  She’s the one with the bruises and the broken bones. 


This holiday season we at Driving Jersey decided to travel the state to connect with as many people as we could, to ask them seasonal questions, but there’s no escaping the fact that many Jerseyans and Americans are living through difficult times and the holidays would therefore be different.




Johnna White volunteers at the SPCA animal shelter. At a time when time is impossible to come by, White volunteers hers, two or three days a week, two or three hours a day to cat socialization at the center, which in her words, means, she "plays with the cats." But according to the folks at the SPCA, cat socialization, is one of the most important things non-staff can do for these animals to prepare them for adoption.


The concept was to create a significant work of art through the involvement of a diverse community. The hope was and continues to be that public art projects bring communities together, foster pride and inspire revitalization.


On any given day or night some twenty or so kids, mostly long-haired boys in jeans and tees and mod girls gather there to play, practice and live the lifestyle of the rock musician.  The emphasis is on learning all aspects of performance.  Musicians and singers are matched in multiple rock bands that meet for six 90 minute rehearsals.  The endgame is a three hour epic rock show on the Count Basie Theatre stage. 

Since 1950 the theater, started by Joseph P. Hayes, has entertained and inspired summer audiences.  The space, originally a converted mechanic's garage, was infused with Hayes’ show-must-go-on spirit.  And here's another part of the story of Jersey that I love, no surrender, never-say-die, refuse to go quietly or to go at all.  Indeed, part of the mystique, of Surflight was, is its indomitable, enduring whimsy. 



Certain movies have this effect on us, this power over us.  Perhaps no film has ever shaped our recreational lifestyles, our connection to the environment, like the movie Jaws.  Before it, our fears of the water were based in drowning, but after the summer of 1975, an overwhelming phobia of sharks permeated the consciousness of a generation of Americans.


We followed Mrs. Rogers back to her old school to visit after being away from her home away from home for a decade.  And just like a teacher, she brought a child, her granddaughter to tell her the offer one more series of lessons.



I had always been a big believer in the idea of the American Dream. I was an American Dreamer, which today seems more like an admission, a confession, than a declaration. I was raised to strive for it, to seek it and to expect to achieve it.  I clutched my travel mug each day and embraced the drudgery of a morning commute to the city, to a desk job in the sky for a paycheck that I thought would eventually lead me to the promised land of my cultural DNA.



It was during our exploration of the distance between the American Dream and the American reality that we decided to visit Lakewood Tent City.  More a village than a city, this super rural community that sprung up a handful of years ago because of a need for shelter for a few, is now home for some 90 or so people.



In the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, Driving Jersey spent three days on Long Beach Island and in Manahawkin, the mainland town across the bridge from the defenseless barrier island. Like many places in Jersey, LBI was hit hard by Sandy. Residents were only recently allowed back to their saltwater soaked homes when we visited. This is a collection of their stories and the stories of the relief, the rebuild and the eventual rising up.



Before Hurricane Sandy, many small towns along the Jersey Shore, were only known by those who lived there, summered there or got lost there. 

“If it wasn’t for Sandy,” one resident remarked, “no one still would’ve ever heard of Union Beach...we kinda liked it that way.  Now everything is changed.”

We went to Camden and spent the day in what has become known as Waterfront South, a former shipbuilding neighborhood, anchored on the corner of Broadway & Ferry by Sacred Heart Church.  We spoke with three members of the community, a reluctant landlord storyteller, an urban farmer activist and a firebrand poet priest proclaiming a message of common sense for the common man.  And despite the darkness, all three still believe in the dream, invincibility?  Nah, survival, restoration, a future.....the future.





The American Dream isn’t dead and it isn’t necessarily real either.  It’s an inside job, that’s a crap shoot on the outside, but we still believe in it like the generation that taught it to us, from a time that is past to a time that is inevitably different.  We aren’t, as a nation. as molded as we once were in the days and even decades following World War 2, which is a good thing, but the result, it seems, is we, rightly or wrongly, successfully or otherwise, explore the boundaries more.  Choice, change, shifting responsibilities, desires to be different or left alone have strained the power of the Dream and have forced it to evolve.



This year we decided that we would experience how the holidays are best enjoyed, in all of its pageantry and excess. The holidays, after-all. like birthdays and any celebration of joy, are for all of us to find an oasis of happiness, to seek mirth and beauty in what may sometimes be bleak and miserable. Driving Jersey: The Holiday Drive 2013 are visions of our Christmas present, a present from Driving Jersey to you, a moment to witness joy. 



One of the great things about driving Jersey, one of the things we love, are the endless angles and stories that come from exploring a single event, person or town.  The idea that, in exploring one tale we are invited into many, is one of the original inspirations of our work.  It’s likely not just a Jersey thing, more of a human thing, but where ever we go, someone is suggesting someone else, some thing else for us to check out.  That’s why Asbury Park:Two Sides was so meaningful and so much fun to make.


This is a story about how a significant moment in time is reflected in what we think and say about it, our memories, our faith, our strength...what we took away is the feeling that this place is priceless because of the characters that gather there, who live there, who struggle there and love there...this boardwalk life, it comes, it goes, it's washed away and rebuilt upon the sand, before the open water that frightens and threatens us, but also always attracts what interests us most, each other.


Over the last six months I've been searching for meaning in the ideas of BEAUTY, LOVE & TRUTH. Magnetic disturbances within my own compass had pulled me off course and I had to recalculate my route.  BEAUTY, LOVE & TRUTH or our understanding of them guides us through life. On the road, we found three people who shared their passion with us, their purpose and their understanding of BEAUTY, LOVE  & TRUTH.

I can still remember the anticipation of going to the drive-in as a kid.  We’d eat dinner early and follow my mother’s instruction to get into pajamas - in those days, pajamas with feet in them. We experienced a certain amount of jealousy when we’d see other kids climbing on their parent’s car, running around and going off to get snacks.  We were stuck in the Buick, clad in Winnie the Pooh from head-to-toe, but our gnashing of teeth was restrained. We had Oreos and grape juice and most importantly we were about to see magnificence on a grand scale, the biggest screen any of us had ever seen; the only screen I had ever seen.  Before I ever set foot in a movie theater, the drive-in was my initiation, my invitation into a life-long love affair with the movies.  And all in all I’d have to say, it is still one of, if not the most, continually magical and moving relationships I have ever had, albeit one dimensional and all.  So when I heard that a drive-in still existed in Jersey, it immediately became a destination I had to get to, both to  revisit my childhood where the magic began and to continue to tell this great story of New Jersey.

We visited the Delsea Drive-In in Vineland, the last outdoor picture show still standing.  The place is like holy ground that represents the glories of the past, while continuing to stage the magic of the present.  We then traveled 45 miles north to Riverton.  In 1932, Richard Hollingshead, Jr. was struck quite literally by the mother of invention, when he developed the idea of the drive-in for his mom, who because she was so large couldn’t be comfortable in a conventional theater space. 

Our next stop was in West Orange to Thomas Edison National Park, site of the world’s first movie studio, the Black Maria, where inventor/entrepreneur Edison, the so-called Wizard of Menlo Park, facilitated the development of moving pictures and "produced" some of the world's first films, starting in 1893.  There is some debate about who actually should be credited with inventing moving pictures.  Many believe Edison was solely responsible, but like most grand ideas, it was more accurately a collaborative effort, an evolution with many players and moving parts.  Regardless, many of the earliest films ever produced were done so there, in West Orange.  For any filmmaker or movie lover it should be a necessary pilgrimage.

I also wanted to connect with people about their own “early days of film.”   So all along the way, as we collected historical information we also asked folks to share their memories of going to the movies, their favorite films and actors, their cinema love stories.  And as important as dates and names and developments are in understanding a thing, there’s nothing that compares to hearing someone explain how the thing made them feel.  And few subjects connect to our emotions, our souls, the way movies do.

Finally, I spent some time with the person who I most associate with movies, my brother.  My love of movies began with him.  Closest to me in age, Christian, and I were partners in crime as kids going to the movies ALL THE TIME.  It's what we shared most...well that, and a bedroom growing up, but yeah...when I think back to what got me into loving and making movies, it's him, it's our shared childhood love of the magic of film.  So when I set out to do an episode about cinema in NJ, I wanted to include him, as a clear, tangible, human roadmap into my route and my roots in movies.  When my brother turned 16 he got a job at the local theater as an usher and eventually a manager.  The theater he oversaw was a classic old Jersey Shore place with a balcony and projectors that needed to be threaded.  It was about as pure a movie theater experience as you could get in the last decade of the twentieth century.  On hot summer days he’d invite me, along with friends, to the closed theater and we’d grab sandwiches and meatball subs and sit and watch movies in the balcony until the late afternoon, when we’d pour out of the theater and up to the beach for an end of day swim...and on and on and on.  The whole thing was about as perfect as...well, as something you’d see in the movies.

Enjoy Driving Jersey: CinemaNJ and remember when you  first fell in love with the movies.

Music for CinemaNJ was performed by The Following, Ryan Bott, Cody McCorry, Kevin Grossman, James McCaffrey & Jon Francis.