of logging fires.
As both Second Ward leader and secretary to the fire department, Jackson had clout in the Atlantic City power structure. But Jackson didn’t relax. “I never let myself forget that Secretary of the Fire Department is made with the stroke of a pen and can be taken away with a stroke of a pen. I protected my position by taking the tests for captain and Battalion Chief and passed them both.” However, at Farley’s request Dick Jackson remained secretary until 1950, when Farley had Public Safety Director William Cuthbert appoint Jackson his Executive Secretary. Cuthbert was growing senile and in no time Jackson was performing his duties.
The Kefauver hearings made Cuthbert look like a fool, and in 1952 Farley wouldn’t permit him to seek reelection. Much to Jackson’s disappointment, he was passed over to run for city commissioner. The candidate chosen was Tom Wooten (a favorite of Jimmy Boyd), who replaced Cuthbert as public safety director and retained Jackson as his executive secretary. Wooten knew nothing about his new job and had to rely entirely upon Jackson. The following year Commissioner Phil Gravatt resigned and Farley saw to it Jackson was appointed to his seat. Jackson was elected and re-elected to city commission in ’56, ’60, ’64, and ’68, each time the high vote getter. From 1963 to ’67 Jackson served unofficially as acting mayor, assisting Joe Altman who was ill after a serious auto accident. When Altman finally retired in 1967, Jackson became mayor. He had climbed every rung on the ladder.
Despite a federal conviction for extortion in 1972 as one of the “Atlantic City Seven,” Dick Jackson is remembered as one of the more effective mayors Atlantic City has had. That his administration was corrupt doesn’t diminish his stature. In Atlantic City corruption was the norm; Jackson just happened to be the one in office when the FBI came to town.
While in federal prison, Jackson was offered his freedom in exchange for fingering Hap Farley. “I wasn’t there a week when who do you think shows up—the same guys who handled my investigation. They tell me, ‘Give us Farley and you can leave now.’ I told them, ‘I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.’” Jackson remained silent and served his time. Upon his release he was received well by the community and earned income as a “consultant” to businesspeople needing access to city hall. Jackson often said, “You really do meet the same people on the way down. You had better be good to them on your way up.”
Until the time of his death in 1988, Jackson remained a force in city politics and was admired by everyone, greeted by locals as “Mayor.” It was loyal foot soldiers such as Dick Jackson who helped make Hap Farley one of the most powerful political bosses in New Jersey’s history. Farley’s career shows he was worthy of Jackson’s loyalty. Hap’s success, and with him that of the Republican organization, was the product of a team effort in which every player knew instinctively that true glory is losing yourself in a common good.
8
The Painful Ride Down
It was late afternoon in winter. The office was dark and still, save for one room. Hap Farley and his partner, Frank Ferry, were seated in Ferry’s office. They’d both had a hectic day and were catching up with one another before going home. Frank Ferry was more than Farley’s law partner; he was like a son. Ferry’s father and Hap were lifelong friends. When Farley made his first run for office in 1937, Ferry’s father loaned him his car for the entire campaign so the young candidate could get around to see the voters. Over the years, Farley and Ferry’s relationship became special and Farley confided in him as he did with few people. They were discussing something that had Farley troubled, and they both knew the problem was beyond their control.
In its prime, Atlantic City had four newspapers: two dailies, a Sunday, and a weekly. Now the resort was a one-newspaper town, and the
Earlier in the week Farley had been asked to present a ribbon to a prize-winning entry in a dog show at Convention Hall. When the picture was printed in the paper, Farley was left out of the photo and only the dog appeared. The
As Hap Farley’s stature was being whittled away, so too was the resort’s stature as a resort. With the repeal of Prohibition the resort lost its special position as a “wet town.” From then on it was a slow but steady ride downhill. By the time Farley was in a position to influence events, the resort’s economic base had already begun to diminish and the trend was irreversible. Things picked up during World War II when there were thousands of soldiers stationed in town, but by the mid-’50s everything had to be perfect throughout the year for local merchants to survive. A canceled convention during the winter or several rainy weekends during the summer could destroy a business. Owning a restaurant, a boardinghouse in the beach block, or a shop along the Boardwalk no longer guaranteed a secure income.
Atlantic City was the victim of postwar modernization. The changes that occurred in American society were subtle, but they were devastating to Atlantic City. The development of air conditioning and swimming pools made it possible for people to enjoy themselves at home rather than travel to the seashore. They also created more competition by Southern resorts. Air travel was now affordable to the masses, and people were willing to save their money for a single vacation to a faraway place, rather than weekend trips to Atlantic City. Finally there was the automobile.
The family car wreaked havoc on the resort. Atlantic City was a creature of the railroad and for three generations rail service to the resort was second to no other vacation spot. The railroad industry had tied the nation together, linking every state from coast to coast. In the process, the American railroad left behind an important legacy. The urge, almost need, for movement was planted firmly into our nation’s character. Working with federal and state governments, the railroad magnates established the concept in the American psyche that mobility was paramount. With the increasing affordability of cars, the working person no longer had to worry about train schedules and routes. The American family could simply pile into the car and go where it wished. It was freedom on a scale the middle class had never known. Between 1920 and 1960, with the exception of World War II, the annual production of new cars exceeded the national birth rate. With the widening use of the automobile, Atlantic City’s patrons could choose to go elsewhere, and they did just that.
Improvement in personal transportation turned the leisure industry into big business. All across the country new vacation centers sprang up, competing for tourists’ dollars. In contrast, Atlantic City wasn’t accustomed to competing for visitors and was anything but modern. The Boardwalk, hotels, shops, restaurants, and the city itself were all showing signs of aging and being dated. Atlantic City had lost its appeal, and its patrons were lured away to newer attractions. As one national news magazine observed, “Today, aside from the conventioneers, the typical Atlantic City tourist is either poor, Black, elderly, or all three—and the change has depressed almost every aspect of the city’s economy … the picture which emerges is one of steady physical, economic, and social deterioration.”
