OCTOBER 22, 2023 – I shouldn’t have been surprised by Cliff and Jeanette’s house a short distance from the endless beach and boardwalk of Asbury Park. Cliff had bought the capacious two-story frame house some years before, just as the town was emerging from its nadir as a magnet for drug addicts and dealers. By 2018 it was in full gentrification mode. The home had been tastefully rehabbed and reflected Cliff’s artistic talent and eye for design and quality. I couldn’t help but notice the contrast between this house in Asbury Park and Cliff’s office surroundings in Rutherford. While the latter were painful to the eye and troubling to the mind, the former was pleasing and comforting to both sight and soul, just as their principal residence was in Pompton Lakes.
Asbury Park was the hometown of Bruce Springsteen, and naturally, The Boss was a member of Cliff’s network. In a tour of the town, Cliff showed me Springsteen’s local haunts.
Saturday morning we set out for Steve Silverman’s place farther down the New Jersey shore. It was a substantial and impressive place, to be sure—and big enough for unchaperoned guests without breadcrumbs to become seriously lost. It was not repulsively ostentatious, however, and I’d been a guest in far more impressive residences—including a few that had been converted to museums charging admission to pay for the upkeep.
Steve and Cliff’s effusive exchange of greetings told me much about the warmth of their friendship. Steve’s gracious handshake with me felt free of the need to impress and his words of welcome struck me as genuine. He ushered us in, introduced his equally genuine wife, and led us on a tour of their home—including Steve’s spacious “playroom” dedicated to his most prominent hobby—the world of rock ’n‘ roll.
After the impressive tour, we repaired to the back patio to bask in the warm summer sun. While sipping beverages and indulging in chips and salsa, the Silverman’s and I got better acquainted. Joining us were the Silverman’s adult kids and a fiancée-in-law. They were sharp, confident, well-mannered, and most telling, exhibited a close and easy rapport with their parents/future in-laws.
The icing on the cake of my positive initial impressions was the Silverman’s unequivocal political affiliation: they were solid Democrats. During talk of politics, Cliff took his minority status in good stride.
“You guys hungry for lunch?” Steve asked amidst our wide-ranging conversation.
“Yeah, of course,” said Cliff. “At the wharf?”
“Yes. By now the crowd has probably dwindled,” Steve said. “Let’s head down to my new boat.”
Steve led Cliff and me across the nicely manicured lawn down to his pier. In keeping with things I’d observed in the in and about the residence, the vessel was “very nice” but not a gross example of conspicuous over-consumption. The watercraft was a “day boat,” a runabout with comfortable seating for skipper and a few guests and enough power to motor around swiftly but not enough to swamp other boats in its wake. It had no berths, no head, no galley, no storage cuddy—just space for life jackets under the aft bench seat.
After pulling away from the pier, Steve navigated up the long wide channel inside the sea barrier. Given the perfect summer Saturday weather, legions of other boats of all sizes cruised the same waterway and connecting routes. Far to the north we could see the south end of New York Harbor.
After a 10- or 15-minute voyage we came to the wharf-side bar and grill where we would dock for lunch. As Steve maneuvered the boat into position along the quay, his sense of humor, which I’d noticed was always just below the surface, went on full display.
“There’s nothing to knock down a guy’s ego,” said Steve, “like trying to park his new boat in full view of a whole bunch of people who can do it a thousand times faster and without wreckin’ their boats.”
A large group of spectators, I noticed, filled the outdoor seating area and inside behind the plate glass of the waterside of the establishment. Lots of other boats lined the wharf, but ours was the only one in motion.
Steve was a regular comedian, issuing a string of self-deprecating one-liners as he shifted the gear shift back and forth and worked the wheel—with somewhat clumsy effect. A valet came to his rescue. “Would you like some help, sir?” the young man called to Steve.
“You’re being way too polite,” Steve said. “What you meant to say, I think, was ‘Is this your first time driving a boat?’ And yes, please take over while I sneak off.”
The valet chuckled politely. Cliff and I joined Steve’s heartier laugh.
Over beers and grilled seafood at one of the outdoor tables with bar stools, I inquired into Steve’s business background—how he’d gotten started into real estate; how his market focus had evolved; what he saw as major trends in his business specifically (large-scale apartment projects) and the multi-housing real estate market generally; and what insights he had about the direction of the regional, national and global economic conditions.
In his responses I found Steve to be smart, thoughtful, savvy, open, sincere, and well-informed, all with an overlay of humor. He was the real deal, and I could readily and reliably assess the strength of his friendship with Cliff.
When the subject of our Rutherford project came up, Steve offered encouragement. Earlier, at Cliff’s invitation, Steve had visited the site and was thus familiar with its size, location, and potential.
After our cruise back to port, Cliff and I bade farewell to Steve and his family and boarded the Denali for the return to Asbury Park.
During our ride Cliff gave me more background on Steve; his commitment to his family, his love of rock ‘n’ roll, his golf game. But the hallmark was a description of a trip the two of them had taken to Hoboken, right across from lower Manhattan, where Steve and his business partner had developed multiple large-scale projects. Cliff said that as Steve drove among the rows of high-rises, he would point to one enormous development or another and say, “We own this one and that one over there,” and “I think we still own one down that street” and “I’m not sure but that one up this street I think we sold last year,” and so on. Cliff seemed quite accurate in describing Steve as one of the biggest developers in booming Hoboken.
“Our project is tiny by comparison,” said Cliff, “but Steve can provide great advice as we go forward.”
“Hmmm,” I said. “Maybe he’s our buyer, what do you think?”
“Maybe. My plan is to keep him in the loop. If he’s not our buyer someday, he could certainly put us in touch with one. He knows an awful lot of people in the business, and like I said, he’s been through the approval process so many times he’ll be able to give us lots of guidance.”
“Fantastic,” I said, fully mindful, as always, of Cliff’s invaluable service to our family.
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© 2023 by Eric Nilsson
