Blurred photo from the backyard as a tropical summer thunder storm
rolls in fast and heavy.
Cells in the basement. Here, the floor is coated with a sticky plaster/asbestos/marshmallow
substance. If it were green, we'd have to call Ghostbusters, rather
than mockingly sing the theme song.
One of 2 courtrooms.
The boiler. A nice place to taste and bake the nightmares of insane
children. |
So there's a crazy hick on the corner,
typical white trash, telling us that there are tornados in Jersey,
and that we better seek cover fast because they're coming this way.
Since he didn't invite us into his place so we could drink his beer
and talk trash to his wife, we decided it was a perfectly viable excuse
to take cover in the old concrete courthouse.
In all seriousness though, the wind was kicking up, the rain was starting
to come down, and a mere hour ago we were forced to flee indoors due
to a torrential downpour of monsoon - like proportions. There wasn't
much time to wait for traffic to clear so we could enter the location
undetected: we had to go - now. Because all hell was about to break
loose outside.
So we clamored into the main room (so nice of them to leave the door
open for us). Inside, where most windows are cinderblocked over or
boarded up, with thick concrete walls built to endure the elements
it's oceanfront location can sometimes kick up, there was not even
a hint (except perhaps some dripping water) that it was anything other
than a bright sunny day outside.
We know nothing about this location, history wise,other than it's
one time use as a courthouse. There's no telling when it closed, why
it closed, who was tried here and for what reasons. The few file rooms
we found contained empty, rusting racks.
This is not to say that it was not a classy location, for we also
found a smashed piano, as well as what were once some nice chairs.
The building also had several ovens and at least one 1950's era refrigerator
(our guess is it was closed in the late 50s or 60s).
The basement, while pitch black, is where much of the action is: you've
got jail cells, safes (I still say it says 'klebold safe co.")
typewriters, the boiler room, and a homeless encampment. There's little
telling how often, if ever, the resident comes in here - though given
the fact that he chooses to live in a large walk-insafe in a pitch
black basement (rather than one of the nicer floors above), we can
only guess he's antisocial. That and the fact that he seems to feed
on sea gulls, the corpses of which were littered about.
Above, The courtrooms contain high ceilings. One still has a row of
seats, though the judges bench is gone. One might even find a minute
maid orange juice container from the 1980's here (you know, the black
carton with the orange on it), as well as old text books and the like.
The upper floors offer a view not to be matched anywhere. Add in the
fact that the steps are all in good condition, and you've got a nice
place to check out.
In the end, Exiting this location proved comical. Nearby is a fast
food joint, and in it's parking lot were both a marked police car
and unmarked police van. We watched and waited for them to leave from
the doorway, only to be watched by yet another cop in a scooter-thingy
parked on the corner just out of sight. He looked at the 5 of us,
and then just looked back at his newspaper as if he didn't even notice.
The monsoon was passed, and our luck remained quite high as there
were no other trips to any other courthouses to be made on this night.
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