Newark, 9:30 p.m., Wednesday

Newark Penn Station was a grand part of New Jersey’s largest city in its day.
Now it’s just an other example of the city’s struggling attempt to recover from decay.

Where’s the fruit of the urban investments made in this metropolis that once thrived?

Where are the 23 degrees The Weather Channel claims are hovering outside?

It’s a Wednesday night in Newark in the dead of winter,
And seeing a Seton Hall basketball game at The Rock bring some hither.
But what about many of the others inside this God forsaken transit center?

A little girl in a pink jacket sings while sitting and playing on the much-trodden floor.
A young woman with pink hair frowns while strutting her black boots toward the door.

A big fellow with a black coat and white beard begs passersby for five dollars.
A man and a woman navigate their wheelchairs around the halls and holler.
An old guy in a hoodie sits on a wooden bench holding an iPhone and writing poetry.

Copyright 2025, Charles A. Bruns

The most exciting basketball player I ever saw

A series of comments on Facebook this week -- and the success a fresh-faced group of Seton Hall University basketball players is enjoying this winter -- is rekindling memories of a great young basketball player from another time: Paul Lape.  He handled the ball like no one else and, combined with his knowledge and instincts for the game, made it impossible for fans and opponents to take their eyes off him.

Paul Lape was an amazing basketball player for Bloomfield High School -- his dribbling and passing skills froze opponents and allowed him to drive past them to the basket, or enabled teammates to make open shots. One of only nine boys in the history of Bloomfield to score over 1000 points for the varsity basketball team, I've never seen a high school player quite like him.

Sure, Kelly Tripucka and Alaa Abdelnaby were virtually unstoppable Bloomfield players who went on to become college stars and enjoy long NBA careers. But Lape, who was under 6-foot tall and looked just like any another kid, was unique, leading Bloomfield to a New Jersey state championship in 1971.

Lape was a starter for Bill Raftery's Seton Hall University team for two seasons, averaging over seven assists a game both years.  In fact, he still holds the Seton Hall record for most assists in a game -- 17, as a freshman at Madison Square Garden against St. Peter's in 1973.  Lape left Seton Hall during his junior year and finished his collegiate athletic career at William Paterson in 1977.

Whenever I ran into Lape around Bloomfield years later, I would tell my young sons, "There is the most exciting basketball player I ever saw."

Newark Penn Station, Saturday, 8 p.m.

The game up the hill behind them, but the next train more than 30 minutes ahead of them, the basketball fans settled inside the bar in the lobby of Newark Penn Station. A couple wearing blue strode in quietly and found stools in the back of the bar, across from a group of loud men wearing red. In the corner, a man wearing blue punched his jacket, out of frustration or anger.

The bartender did her best to take care of her patrons, quickly drafting beers into frosty glasses and occasionally mixing drinks. The blue-clad couple ordered glasses of wine.

“The bartender reminds me of Sharmila,” the man sipping wine said. “Look at her and listen to her accent. I bet you she’s from Trinidad.”

“I thought she was Hispanic,” his lady companion replied.

More people entered the bar. Most were dressed in red and seemed happy at their team’s improbable win, a victory that was insignificant to them from a practical perspective. The loss by their in-state rival, however, was potentially damaging to the team’s post-season prospects. Three 60ish-year old men in blue, one of whom looked tall enough to have played college basketball in the late 1960s, talked softly among themselves.

The lone African-American man at the bar stepped out, probably to use the bathroom across the hall. He returned a few minutes later and reclaimed his seat among the red-clad white men. As improbable as it could be for a black man in Newark, New Jersey, he stood out inside the bar with his black leather jacket and black leather hat in a sea of red, blue and white.

A few minutes later a thin man with sandy-colored hair and stubby growth on his ruddy face shuffled into the bar. Seeing him, the bartender drafted a glass of beer.

“Jimmy, sit here, not there,” she said, pointing to a corner of the bar with a few empty stools. He didn’t seem to hear her as he slowly made his way to a nearby spot.

“Sit here, not there,” she repeated, holding the frosty beer of glass. He sat where she didn’t want him to anyway. She sighed, and put the beer in front of him.

Within a few more moments, the bar was full. A group of young women, not dressed in red or blue but looking as if they could have just graduated from one of the rival colleges, made their way to the back and stood by patiently.

“In a few minutes the train is going to come and this bar will be nearly empty,” the woman sipping wine said. “She’s finally going to get a chance to slow down and catch her breath.”

As most people around the bar began finishing their drinks, the couple in blue took their last sips of wine and quietly made their way past the men in red and out the door.