"Look at that river," marveled the Rev. Margaret Herz-Lane of nearby Grace Lutheran Church, who joined me last week on a tour of the vacated 16-acre prison site, part of an 88-acre tract that could become a mix of parks, piers, housing, and businesses.
In 28 years of living in the neighborhood, Herz-Lane had never been that close to the water.
"That's our river," she said, giddily, "and we've been cut off from it for so long."
Tear down to raise hope
Optimism, regular readers know, does not come easily to me when we're talking about Camden.
I've written countless columns about the $175 million state-imposed recovery plan, criticizing its disregard for residents and its preposterous promises. Remember the artist's rendering showing beret-wearing intelligentsia spending their days in outdoor cafes?
Long before Trenton took away Camden's right to self-rule, it imposed Riverfront Prison in exchange for state aid. Locals fought the facility before it opened in 1985, and they kept on complaining, never knowing if anyone was listening.
"Camden wants to stand on its own," explained activist Clarence Bagwell. "Just these acres alone could give us the tax ratables to take this city out of deficit."
Camden County Freeholder Jeff Nash heard the cries and shared them in 2005 with gubernatorial candidate Jon Corzine.
"From that day on," Nash recalled, "whenever he'd see me he'd say, 'We're going to close that prison.' "
The gutsy decision led to protests from legislators and the state corrections officers union, but the governor never wavered.
