By Bob Gaydos

7/17/2025  Today’s top newsmakers:

Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein.

Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein.

Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein.

Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein.

Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein.

Connie Francis, pride of Newark, New Jersey, died at the age of 87. Francis, who was the unmistakable sound of the late ‘50s and early 1960s, sold more than 100 million records worldwide and broke nearly as many hearts with her powerful, soulful voice.

If you happened to live in Bayonne, N.J., at that time, you couldn’t walk past any bar, door open in summer, and not hear the unmistakable sound of Connie‘s voice coming from the jukebox deep within.

“Who’s Sorry Now?” “”Among My Souvenirs.” “Mama.” “Where the Boys Are.” “My Happiness.”

If you were lucky on some particular summer night if your father walked past the neighborhood gin mill on the way home from work, Connie‘s voice might’ve drawn him in to the cool, dark interior.

He might even have a cold beer. And, he might order a pizza, Bayonne-style (thin and crisp) and back it up with an order of mussels in tomato sauce. And he might bring it home for a surprise supper.

All because he heard Connie Francis calling him. Thanks, Connie. For everything.

… OK, break is over. Back to the news.

Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein.

30

By Patrick Gallagher

Recently, due to unfortunate mutual confusion, the Food Truck festival planned for Stanley Deming Park in Warwick had to be relocated at the very last stage of a complicated planning effort.

The Village of Warwick refused the applicant a permit because alcohol is not allowed in village parks. That was for just one event.

The village, like all wise municipalities, knows that the insurance risks related to sponsoring an event where alcohol is served are gigantic.

So why do the trustees and planning board think a gigantic bar in a quiet village neighborhood is OK?

Are they confused again?

Two blocks away from downtown, something they will not even consider in a village park would be permitted 365 days a year till 1 and 2 a.m. Bell to Bell.   

The same risk management principles apply to residents on Van Buren and West Streets as on South Street, but since it’s not village property, they can wash their hands of local concerns. But drunks can drive or fall or crash on any street. Wheeler, Welling, Orchard, Main Street, all the same.

All the liability belongs to the walkers, long-term residents and folks crossing streets. The village wants to allow the neighborhood to soak up all the risk to homeowners. All the traffic problems all the concerns for kids walking home from school or activities at a village park or friend’s house  just fall on the residents.

Responsible citizens and homeowners can’t accept this liability shifted to our front doors. Poor planning that creates extraordinary risk is uninsurable and unacceptable.

Pretend we are part of the village. Adopt a moratorium. Put the PLAN back in planning board.

Please, residents, come out and help us prevent Warwick from becoming Barwick. Come out and represent yourself at the next Planning Board meeting on June 15 at 7:30. Speak for your community.

Patrick Gallagher lives in Warwick.