Nelson Johnson - Boardwalk Empire - The Birth, High Times, and Corruption of Atlantic City

Unlike most politicians who are forever looking to the next election for another position, Farley had no aspirations for higher office. He could have run for congress, governor, or U.S. Senator on any one of several occasions, but chose not to. He knew the Atlantic City Republican organization was perceived as one of the most corrupt political machines in the state, matched only by the Democratic Hague-Kenny regime in Jersey City. “Hap knew better than to try to be anything more than the boss of Atlantic County.” To run for statewide office would have exposed Farley and his organization to scrutiny he’d rather not have. With that in mind, being senator from Atlantic County satisfied his political ego. Farley had attained all he wanted or could safely aspire to from electoral politics. Politically, he was a competitor to no one in Trenton and his fellow senators never suspected his motives, trusting him completely.

Equally important as his relationship with the other senators were his work habits. In 34 years in the legislature, Farley missed a total of three sessions; on each occasion he was in the hospital. He dedicated himself to being on the job and was a full-time legislator who didn’t believe in vacations. His work was his relaxation. Hap believed that “If you’re going to get things done you have to be there and apply all your energies to the work at hand.” He focused his intensity on learning the ropes of the state bureaucracy, mastering the function of every agency, acquiring a thorough knowledge of their budgets. He understood how valuable the administrative branch could be to an elected official in providing constituent services. He cultivated his relationship with the bureaucrats at every level in much the same way he did with his fellow legislators. His commitment to his duties could serve as a role model for any elected official.

Reminiscent of “Nucky’s Nocturne,” Hap formed the “21 Club,” a social organization dedicated to promoting informal gatherings of all 21 senators, Republican and Democrat. The group got together at the close of each legislative session with Hap always hosting the affair. Each year Hap invited his fellow senators, together with their families, for a weekend of entertainment, food, and relaxation in Atlantic City. The senators and their families were put up in style in one of the Boardwalk hotels. While not as lavish as Nucky’s parties, Hap saw to it every need of his guests was satisfied without expense. The 21 Club lasted for nearly 25 years and was valuable public relations for both Farley and the resort.

Farley’s relationship with his fellow senators wasn’t the only one he nurtured. He had daily contact with the ward leaders and precinct captains. He made himself accessible to the public and had his hand on the pulse of the community. When someone was sick, he would send flowers or a get well card; if there was a death, he went to the wake; should a voter be down on his luck and too proud for welfare, Farley arranged an anonymous gift or a loan. Sometimes it was necessary for him to perform free legal services. Hap was doing “pro bono” legal work before the phrase was coined.

For the first 20 years of his legislative career Farley spent every Monday morning representing constituents who had been threatened with loss of their driver’s license before the Division of Motor Vehicles in Trenton. He represented six to eight people each morning before reporting to the Senate and never took a fee; the only thing he ever asked for was their vote for the Republican ticket come election time. Hap was the point person in an elaborate social service program, namely, Republican ward politics, and everyone did his or her part. Whatever the problem, Hap’s lieutenants had orders that he was to know about it.

During the early years of Hap’s reign, there were other “lieutenants” in town. They had nothing to do with ward politics, but they were important, too. The United States Army had come to town. Throughout most of World War II, Atlantic City was used as a training center for tens of thousands of American GIs. It was a boon to the resort economy.

The large hotels and Convention Hall were ideal temporary facilities—they were mostly empty anyway because of the war—and Atlantic City became a Basic Training Center for the Army Air Corps. The Army leased Convention Hall and its main arena and meeting rooms were transformed into a training facility. Thousands of recruits did calisthenics, received briefings daily at the Hall, and trained for maneuvers on the beach. While many of the troops partied on their time off, there was no gambling. The Army brass made it clear that they didn’t want their men losing money in the resort’s gambling rooms. For the first time in nearly 50 years “the slough was on” for more than several days. The “slough” was the term used by locals when the presence of someone in town, or the occurrence of an event, would temporarily force the closure of gambling rooms. It never lasted any longer than necessary. Even during the FBI’s investigation of Nucky the “slough” was only intermittent, weeks at a time at most. With World War II, it lasted for years and created hard times for the people operating gambling rooms that weren’t part of a nightclub or restaurant.

The war may not have been a good thing for the local racketeers, but it was great for the resort’s economy. Many hotels and boarding-houses throughout the resort were converted into barracks and offices. By 1943, the Army had moved into such places as the Traymore, Breakers, Brighton, Shelburne, and Dennis. For many servicemen, basic training in Atlantic City was a pleasant surprise. Their accommodations were far better than the average GI who trained in places like Fort Dix. Many of the soldiers enjoyed their stay so much they returned with their families after the war. For Boardwalk merchants, shopkeepers, barbers, bartenders, and restaurant owners, the Army and its seven-day per week visitors were a blessing. The Army’s presence helped many businesses survive the hard times that followed the repeal of Prohibition and the further loss of vacationers and conventioneers caused by the war. World War II was good to Atlantic City and times were very good for Hap Farley, who saw his power enhanced considerably.

In the election of 1943 Farley’s career received an unexpected boost. He was transformed from one of the more influential legislators to the dominant force in the New Jersey Senate. At the age of 70, after being away from Trenton for nearly 25 years, Walter Edge, Atlantic City’s most distinguished self-made man ever, made a political comeback and was elected governor. Following the term as governor engineered by Nucky Johnson, Edge went on to serve as U.S. Senator and Ambassador to France. From Hap Farley’s perspective, the timing of Edge’s return to politics could not have been better. As the political boss of the governor’s home county, Farley’s stock with the politicians in Trenton rose dramatically. With Walter Edge in the governor’s office, political leaders from the entire state, not just South Jersey, treated Farley with respect and sought his support. Hap exploited it for all it was worth. In Edge’s first year in office Farley was chosen majority leader; the following year he was elected senate president, becoming the undisputed leader of his party’s caucus. In terms of statewide power, Hap Farley never looked back.

Hap ruled the Republican Caucus in the state senate the same way a strong-willed coach runs his team. He called all the plays. At the time, the Republican Caucus was the senate, and in short order, Farley was the caucus. The GOP maintained sizable majorities, consistently controlling 13 to 17 of the 21 counties. The seven southern counties were nearly always represented by Republican senators; these were Farley’s votes. As leader of the caucus, Farley set the ground rules for how legislation was handled. He imposed a rule that no bill could be voted on in the full senate unless it had the support of at least 11 senators in the Republican Caucus. Once 11 votes were secured the other senators were expected to follow the rule of the majority and vote for the bill when it reached the senate floor. But 11 votes it had to be. Even if a majority of the Caucus, comprised of, say, seven to nine North Jersey senators, supported a particular bill, it would never see the light of day if Farley opposed it.