They have been a part of the borough of Atlantic Highlands more than 100 years. They hold fond memories for local residents who remember scrambling up and down on them as kids. They have a place in history for the early 20th century visitors who used to connect from the railroad station at the bottom to their elegant Victorian homes at the top of the hill.
Today, for some, they are the only access from their 8th Avenue homes to either 8th Avenue or Prospect Circle where the back of their elegant Victorian home fronts.
And last week, the borough administrator offered to give them to a local resident.
The Public Steps. The steps that go from Prospect Place all the way down to Ocean Boulevard. Some 70 steps or so made out of native peanut stone, with stone walls on either side. They were constructed with the native durable stone by the borough in the late 1930s or early 1940s, around the same time a similar stair set, built with WPA funding, was constructed near Henry Hudson Spring, the next stop on the railroad that then went through Highlands and over to Sea Bright and points south.
While the borough administrator wrote a “Dear Debbie” e-mail to one resident setting a September 1 date to talk more about it, he is out of the office this week so unavailable for any comment or explanation.
Mayor Lori Hohenleitner notified the resident the meeting is definitely set, and will be by zoom, as she requested.
All of this is enough to upset Debbie Kirsh to the point of her losing sleep, having headaches, wondering if her love for the borough, its beauty and its people have been violated, and absorbing most of her thinking time.
But Debbie has to wait until September 1 when Administrator Stratton is back at his desk and available for the meeting.
Debbie, who hails from Brooklyn, and Chris bought the house 14 years ago, in love with everything about the town and the view from high on the hill, knowing the house was in need of many repairs and renovations. But it was worth it, they decided, and since then, they have poured time, talent and money intro restoring the house to its original beauty, albeit with modern and up-to-date touches. They also traced the history of the house and its former owners, invested heavily in the house to maintain the Victorian history and charm and make it a showplace.
“It wasn’t just to make it homey,” Debbie said this week, frustrated by her “Dear Debbie” letter followed by a formal letter from the borough attorney. “The history of the house is extremely important and we are staying true to that. There’s a lot of maintenance and constant upkeep which we do “
But, she adds, “I have advocated for the repair and maintenance of the public stairs for the same reason. With the town allowing more horrible new builds it is very critical to keep the history alive.”
“Apparently, our town government has forgotten what makes Atlantic Highlands special, and I am very upset about that as are a lot of people who live here. It seems we are helpless to stop the money grab.”
The only thing the couple hasn’t done on their property is install staircases for access to either the street in front of them or the one behind. There have never been any steps for access, she explains, and installing any now would mar the appearance of the property on both sides of the house and upset the appearance of all the landscaping, and upset the historical ambiance of the property.
Knowing there were public steps, steps owned by the borough, immediately adjacent to the property, and knowing they have always been used as access to the home by previous owners, the couple took advantage of those public steps about 20 feet from their back door and adjacent to their property line as they would of any public sidewalk in front of their house; it would enable them to maintain the neighborhood history and beauty.
So, they walk up the steps to get their daily mail on Prospect Place, the rear of their house; packages, guests, and emergency personnel, including police, fire and first aid, access the steps in times of need via the public steps; should anyone need to be taken out of their home by ambulance, it’s the public steps for easy access.
But sometime last year, Debbie fell on the public steps, was severely injured, and notified the borough they needed repairs. The former administrator investigated, agreed they needed repairs, and authorized work, work which Stratton also authorized as needed for safety. Since then, there have been e-mails between Debbie and the administrator with her saying the wrong solutions were used for power washing and the work was not done correctly.
The last week, Debbie received the following e-mail from the borough administrator
Hi Debbie,
Can you put a hold on your calendar for 11:00am 9/1 to discuss two items:
One is related to a report from our loss control officer which recommends closing the stairs in the winter to remove the hazardous condition. The second is related to recommendations from counsel; either follow the risk assessment or deed the staircase to the property owner (you).
The e-mil went on to let her know the loss control officer, who was not named, and legal counsel could both can be present for the meeting if she wanted, but his recommendation was it would be helpful “to start with a high-level conversation well in advance of winter operations. The borough is trying to work through an alternative that maintains access to your home via the public staircase, while complying with the risk assessment report.” Caleb
There was no “risk assessment report attached, nor was the loss control officer identified.
This week, Mayor Hohenleitner confirmed in a message to Debbie that the meeting is set for the time and date the administrator had asked Debbie to “ put a hold on her calendar” for.
Next Story in this Series: The letter from the borough attorney, local laws about shoveling snow, and the history of the Steps
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he lived in stood right smack up against the wall of the shallow, dull-colored forest separating his own squadron from Dunbar’ s. Immediately alongside was the abandoned railroad ditch that carried the pipe that carried the aviation gasoline down to the fuel trucks at the airfield. Thanks to Orr, his roommate, it was the most luxurious tent in the squadron. Each time Yossarian returned from one of his holidays in the hospital or rest leaves in Rome, he was surprised by some new comfort Orr had installed in his absence – running water, wood-burning fireplace, cement floor. Yossarian had chosen the site, and he and Orr had raised the tent to get her. Orr, who was a grinning pygmy with pilot’s wings and thick, wavy brown hair parted in the middle, furnished all the knowledge, while Yossarian, who was taller, stronger, broader, and faster, did most of the work. Just the two of them lived there, although the tent was big enough for six. When summer came, Orr rolled up the side flaps to allow a breeze that never blew to flush away the air baking inside.The tent he lived in stood right smack up against the wall of the shallow, dull-colored forest separating his own squadron from Dunbar’ s. Immediately alongside was the abandoned railroad ditch that carried the pipe that carried the aviation gasoline down to the fuel trucks at the airfield. Thanks to Orr, his roommate, it was the most luxurious tent in the squadron. Each time Yossarian returned from one of his holidays in the hospital or rest leaves in Rome, he was surprised by some new comfort Orr had installed in his absence – running water, wood-burning fireplace, cement floor. Yossarian had chosen the site, and he and Orr had raised the tent to get her. Orr, who was a grinning pygmy with pilot’s wings and thick, wavy brown hair parted in the middle, furnished all the knowledge, while Yossarian, who was taller, stronger, broader, and faster, did most of the work. Just the two of them lived there, although the tent was big enough for six. When summer came, Orr rolled up the side flaps to allow a breeze that never blew to flush away the air baking inside.The tent he lived in stood right smack up against the wall of the shallow, dull-colored forest separating his own squadron from Dunbar’ s. Immediately alongside was the abandoned railroad ditch that carried the pipe that carried the aviation gasoline down to the fuel trucks at the airfield. Thanks to Orr, his roommate, it was the most luxurious tent in the squadron. Each time Yossarian returned from one of his holidays in the hospital or rest leaves in Rome, he was surprised by some new comfort Orr had installed in his absence – running water, wood-burning fireplace, cement floor. Yossarian had chosen the site, and he and Orr had raised the tent to get her. Orr, who was a grinning pygmy with pilot’s wings and thick, wavy brown hair parted in the middle, furnished all the knowledge, while Yossarian, who was taller, stronger, broader, and faster, did most of the work. Just the two of them lived there, although the tent was big enough for six. When summer came, Orr rolled up the side flaps to allow a breeze that never blew to flush away the air baking inside.
