Of Ghosts and Ghost Towns

Recently, the family made the trek out to Flemington—because nothing says “family outing in the country” like discounts on Ralph Lauren, Nike, and the Klein twins, Anne and Calvin.

On the way home, we stopped at another large outlet, and I noticed some amazing prices on official sports gear, the kind the NFL, NBA, and MLB get prices for that rival the cost of popcorn at the Fork and Screen.

I was eager to buy my nephew a jersey with the name and number of a star, a young point guard for the New York Knicks who had taken the city by storm and was sure to be a fan favorite for years to come. The store had his officially sanctioned gear, and the prices were as phenomenal as his young career had been.

At the last second, for some reason I decided not to buy anything. The next day, the young point guard was traded to another team. His name was Jeremy Lin. The store was Burlington Coat Factory.

With that trade, Jeremy Lin became another reminder of good times gone by, a ghost of NY sports past.

On the other hand, Burlington Coat Factory is about to vanquish one of the ghosts of Woodbridge past, that of the dearly departed Great Indoors, which haunts the anchor space of the ghost town formerly (actually still) known as Woodbridge Crossing.

The haunting has been good at Woodbridge Crossing, as stores started dropping like flies, it seemed, almost as soon as the upscale strip mall was completed. So good, in fact, that Woodbridge High School even held their yearly haunted house at the scarily empty Linens ‘n Things gravesite, right next to the tomb of the unknown electronics store (Circuit City, formerly Lafayette/Circuit City).

Now Burlington will join the life-affirming optimists at Party City and Modell's in the hope that Woodbridge Crossing will return to its thriving early days. Oh, how I miss stopping for Starbucks inside the Great Indoors and ogling the Viking ranges and Sub-Zero fridges—before running off to buy the Jenn-Air and GE at P.C. Richards.

Sadly, though, the ghosts and ghost towns are not confined to TriQualGreen, the triangle below Quality Way and Green Street. (I just made that name up, but it’s not bad for an area of electrical wires and a freight-train gully.)

Up in my neck of the Colonia woods, a relatively young strip on Inman avenue lost its two biggest tenants, Ace Hardware and Liquor Chain, which was disappointing, because I liked to pick up a couple of bottles of hooch before I rented a chainsaw or auger.

Luckily, Liquor Chain opened a spanking new building across the street. Ace Hardware is buried down the street in St. Gertrude’s.

Of course, businesses come and go in good times and bad across the country. You see plenty of them if you live in one place long enough. Some leave way too soon; others, you don’t know how they survived as long as they did.

Everyone remembers Comp USA in Edison, but how about Computer City, where the DSW Warehouse is now? I bought a Mac clone there! Not to mention tons of now-obsolete cables and peripherals.

How about Bob’s in the same complex? They’re still thriving elsewhere. What happened in Iselin? (Funny I think about that, but don’t give a thought to Steve and Barry’s at Menlo Park.)

And speaking of sports stores, dammit, what happened to Galyan’s and their great rock-climbing wall where my daughter took a second place one Saturday? (I know; they’re Dick’s.)

What really makes me mad is that for a while there was a sign for the great flatbread sandwich shop Cosi between the Sprint store and FedEx in the strip around the corner from Woodbridge Crossing. Never opened. And they make a great Tuscan Pesto Chicken! Arrgh! Must have been a plot by Panera.

There are still plenty of places to get a chicken sandwich fast, of course: Cluck U. (But not Pollo Tropical.) And Chick-fil-A, if that’s your thing. (But not on Sunday.)

I don’t go back as far as a lot of Woodbridge residents, but I have a long list of ghosts (not to be confused with demons).

As a former working musician, my first experiences in Woodbridge were in traveling here from Queens to play in clubs. Who remembers going dancing at Greenwood Manor (now Staples) on Route 1 and Green St.? Captain G’s (now the health club- based strip mall on Route 1 at Ford Ave.)? Or the Captain’s Wheel on Route 1 in Edison?

Who remembers Channel and Rickel Home Centers in the years B.H.D. (before Home Depot)?  The mall anchor stores: A&S, Hahne’s, Stern’s, Bamberger’s, the Wiz? Fortunoff? Levitz? Seaman's?

And these are just the big names. A list of the mom-and-pop ghosts would take forever to list. And now I’ve agitated myself thinking about them, not to mention Liquor Chain and Cosi. Yum.

I hesitate to ask, because I don’t know how many exabytes of storage Patch has, but how about listing your favorite ghost business in the comments below? Maybe if we wish hard enough, some of our favorite stores and services will magically reappear, like Brigadoon, and fill the ghostly spaces with joy, laughter, and canceled Groupons.

Just don’t wish for the Great Indoors. They’re coming back when Elvis and Jeremy Lin do.