One photographer’s trip into the rusty heart and history of Coney Island, NY and Asbury Park, NJ.
by Tanja-Tiziana Burdi
Whether intentional or not, every photographer eventually finds their niche. For me, regardless of what I end up shooting on a given day, somehow I always come back to seeking out the old world within the new. I love vintage pictures and am drawn to capturing the fading bits and pieces of the past within the modern city. There is something jarring and even haunting about certain people or places that don’t appear to belong in our own current reality. Alongside that comes the thrill and honour of capturing more than a moment – a living history that could vanish any day.
The opportunity doesn't always present itself though. Sometimes you need to search it out… and that is where this road trip begins.
This May, a few friends and I rented a car and set off on a road trip to visit the ghosts of summer – places that had once seen much brighter days. First stop would be the infamous Coney Island, New York and then we’d trip over the NJ state line to see the ruins of Asbury Park, New Jersey.
These two seaside wonderlands were once tourist havens, synonymous with summer, where ice cream and amusement brought people in from near and far. Now, decades later, fading in the summer sun, they long for the glory days and make deluded attempts to relive and revive.
Day 1: Coney Island.
Forever etched in pop culture as the birthplace of the hot dog, the world’s largest Ferris Wheel, and preserver of the long-since-defunct tradition of side shows, Coney Island still has a little fuel left in the tank. While a number of historic buildings went down in the early 1900’s due to fire, some interesting sights still remain.
Off the main strip, Surf Ave, visitors can still experience the hot dog palaces, arcades, the Coney Island Side Show, and an antique carousel that’s open to all ages. I wouldn’t recommend the latter as some sketchy ladies were running the show when we arrived, but the side show is definitely worth a stop.
Shows of this kind clearly lack the draw of their early 20th century predecessors, but Coney’s side show is one of the only ones left in the 
western world, and as such, still reels in a decent crowd. Performers, decked in period attire, joke and shock the lot of us with their ‘talents’. We sit back and take in this time-warping moment as it’s not every day a few dollars will land you in a dark little theatre where people will hammer a huge nail into their nose, swallow a sword, run electricity through their body, breathe fire or contort in the most unnatural of ways.
After the show, walking over to the main amusement park area, I encounter a bit of an odd mix of sights. Here, most rides and signage have been cleaned up and given a bright fresh coat of paint, but still a number of broken down old buildings and very faded games run by very faded folks throw back to the days of old. Sometimes the contrast between the two is almost physically jarring – a surreal dream of sorts.
The most simple and yet striking contrast is in the arcade, where colourful modern video games sit beside bizarre antique mechanical games. The old fortune teller and test-your-strength games not only seem out of a dream, but are still fully functional… it’s incredible. A close second are the food stands where your gleaming bottle of Coke and pogo stick or knish won’t be paid for with debit – that’s for sure. I think the cash register had a hand crank.
All of that is still just a lead up though. Looking upwards, you can’t miss the main attractions. The Cyclone and The Wonder Wheel (national and state landmarks respectively) are absolute legends and probably what keep people coming back – in turn, keeping Coney Island alive.
Built in 1927 for $100,000, the Cyclone is one of the last original wooden roller coasters standing in the US. The paint job definitely helps with appearances but the creaking beams are unmistakably authentic. Something about an 80 year old wooden coaster with 12 drops just equates thrills for the riders. On a cloudy Sunday afternoon, we’re in luck, finding a very short line-up to boot.
Just across the park, the Wonder Wheel towers over the area at 150’. The quintessential Ferris wheel, it was built in 1920 and still runs daily while keeping up a perfect safety record. Walking anywhere near it, you can’t help but look up at its swinging cars in awe. This marvel has been here for nearly a century and still it ceases to amaze visitors like ourselves. It was tempting, but 
the height was making us all a bit queasy and we had to get back on the road, so we backtracked down Surf Ave to get an ‘original’ hot dog at Nathan’s (a hot dog stand turned hot dog palace since 1916).
It was pretty good (for a hot dog) and a fitting way to end off the Coney Island trip. Crawling into the car, I wind film, switch memory cards and mentally prepare for tomorrow’s melancholy venture to Asbury Park, NJ.
Day 2: Asbury Park.
Driving into Asbury Park, one quickly realizes that this place is the real fall-from-grace story of the trip. During its heyday in the early 20th century, Asbury Park was the place for vacationers from New York, New Jersey and surrounding states. Beautiful hotels, amusement parks, bars, restaurants, attractions, theatre, and more... all alive and thriving along the ocean shore.
Today, the area is a near ghost town of abandoned buildings, crumbling structures, and faded facades. Past attempts to revive only fell through, adding half-built skeletons of future buildings to the grim landscape.
As we make our way to the shore, the 
road is lined with antiquated hotels like the Ambassador and the Metropolitan. Boarded up and rusting at the seams they sport “No Trespassing” and “For Sale” signs all at once. The former queen of all hotels, the Plaza is the last one in the row, now a field of concrete and rubble. The only remnant of its existence is the front step where a mosaic bearing the hotel name once greeted incoming guests. We stand for a moment taking in the emptiness. The spot is very reminiscent of a grave marker.
Just behind the Plaza grounds lies a fresh demolition site. There, until a year ago stood The Palace, a site that once held a Ferris wheel, carousel, and other classic rides like the “Tunnel of Love” and “Tilt-a-Whirl”. The exterior of the Palace building and “Tillie”, the smiling face painted on it, have over the years become synonymous with Asbury Park. Legendary band shots by rocker Bruce Springsteen at the site would also carve out a place for The Palace in rock ‘n’ roll history.
Despite that, the latest (and most hopeful) plan to revive the area involves the removal of several key sites and this was one of them. 
On the upside, while it’s now just one more of Asbury’s ghosts, many iconic elements of The Palace, including Tillie, were removed and preserved for use in the new development due to pressure from local groups.
Walking down from The Palace I feel a drop of rain so I skip under the coppery green overhang of the Carousel building. Leaning back on the fencing (meant to keep the homeless out of the emptied building) I can see the details of the overhang – most curiously, the embossed flying Pegasus’ that appear to be taking shelter underneath with me.
A blink later, I realize it’s not really raining at all. The weather this morning is much like the landscape – partly overcast, partly clear, but mostly just dull and gray. Seeing that my friends 
have gone ahead, I walk towards the shore and catch up with them at the
Casino building on the boardwalk.
The Casino, I learned later, was never a gambling house but a skating rink and theatre. Today, the lower portion has been marred by graffiti artists of little talent, but a look up reveals what’s left of the beautiful 1920’s architecture. The design is also unmistakably familiar. As it turns out, both the Casino and Carousel were designed by Warren and Wetmore, the same pair responsible for New York's Grand Central Station.
The Casino’s future is very much in limbo though as it is not likely to be restorable. Most of the roofing has fallen in allowing nature to reclaim it and quite a few trees have made their home within its quiet walls.
Before leaving Asbury, we pass through the Convention Hall – another amazing 1920’s construction. Though I find myself walking alongside a huge crack in the flooring, this building is still in use as a local performance hall with plans to revamp and restore. Little stone cherubs look down on us from above as does an antique billboard listing upcoming acts. It almost seems this board has remained untouched for 20 years, but in fact Billy Idol was really scheduled to perform on the 28th.
Outside, we wave goodbye to “Tillie”, faded but smiling from a nearby facade, and walk back to the car. My Nikon’s battery, appropriately, breathes its last breath. It certainly hasn’t the staying power of this Jersey town. I place the silenced camera back in my bag and take in the rest of the walk to memory… the same place where Asbury Park will always live on for those who’ve seen its glory days.
