Just, who was only a citizen activist at the time, had taken a personal stand against Kenny's plans to install a Meadowlands-like racetrack in Secaucus. "I was in the Plaza every day with my sign protesting against it," Just said during an interview with the Secaucus Reporter in 2001. "People seemed to be listening, because Kenny offered to pay me off if I stopped." Just refused and continued his protest, and the residents and city government of Secaucus rejected the referendum for the racetrack.
"I think that's why Kenny started to use Laurel Hill as a rock quarry, trying to get even with us for spoiling his plans," Just said.
Just, 81, who went onto to become a maverick councilman and later mayor of Secaucus, died on Friday, Dec. 5, going to his grave as a defender of open space. He had suffered from a long illness and died in hospice care.
Services were held last Monday.
Humble beginnings Born in Jersey City, Just moved to Secaucus at 6 years old in 1932 where his family worked a farm that included raising pigs, perhaps one of the most enduring symbols of old Secaucus. His father was a longshoreman who lost his job in the Great Depression, and had to scratch out a living on a small farm just off County Avenue in Secaucus, near where the Secaucus Duck Pond is located today.
Just recalled during an interview in 2000 his days traveling from diner to diner to collect swill to feed the pigs, part of that family effort to survive.
He also recalled fishing and swimming in the waterways near his home, both in the Hackensack River and especially in a small pond near his farm. Later, he negotiated a lease with Hartz Mountain Industries to turn the pond and the area around it into a park. Mayor Dennis Elwell said that soon, the Duck Pond will be named after Just in honor of Just's commitment to open space.
Just was one of 12 children, of which his brother, George, now 70, is the last survivor.
"George is my best friend, and he came up from Virginia for the funeral," said former Councilman Robert Campanella last week. Campanella credited Anthony Just with bringing him into politics in the early 1970s. "I've known Tony since I was 10 years old."
Fought for vets Campanella credited Just with having a huge influence on his early political career as well as civic life.
"He got me into the Holy Name Society," Campanella said.
Despite having a well-known temper, Just was a deeply religious man, attending church services regularly and often boasting of his sister, who had taken the vows to become a nun. Just's family retained their farm until the early 1950s, by which time Secaucus was undergoing a significant change to become a hub of retail and industry.
Just went off into the Army, serving during The Korean War and attaining the rank of sergeant.
"He was a strong advocate for veterans," said Dennis Pope, who had served as a court administrator under Mayor Paul Amico and then later, Just. "When he became mayor, he made sure those who had lost their lives in war were remembered. Those who didn't have streets named after them, Just made sure parks and playgrounds got their names."
By the time Just came back from service, he found his farm gone to make way for the New Jersey Turnpike. For a time, Just worked for the Ballantine Beer Company in Newark, then later, took up work for various metal manufacturers in North Bergen and elsewhere before finally ending up as an electrical mechanic at Square D, a prominent Secaucus-manufacturer, from which he retired in 1988.
Just dropped out of school at age 16 to work, later earning his GED in the army. He never dreamed of becoming mayor. He said he was too busy working to keep his family fed.
Accidentally in politics Yet he got involved with politics, helping others to campaign. In 1969 he ran in the 3rd Ward, won the primary, and lost in the general election. He ran again in 1970 and won. "But I didn't have a firm hold on the office," he said years ago. "When the Nixon landslide hit in 1972, I was out of office again.''
He tried again for Council in 1977 but lost. Then, in 1982, he was elected to the council and stayed there until his run for mayor in 1991.
As a councilman, however, he had grown more and more frustrated with his inability to get his ideas through to then Mayor Paul Amico.
Just's battles with Amico became legendary, often taking on a bitter comedy, as Just escalated his rhetoric in challenging Amico's powerful administration.
"He sometimes had the tendency to be a lone eagle," Pope said of Just. "That is an asset as well as a liability."
Political downfall In one confrontation, Just suggested that a prominent company had contaminated the Hackensack River, in another confrontation, Just recommended that the city cease providing police services to malls and outlets. Ironically, Just's failure to publicly disclose contamination seeping off an industrial site in the late 1990s and his unwillingness to seek federal grants to hire police proved his political downfall when his political rival Elwell, brokered those issues into a successful primary challenge against Just in 1999.
Considered a political maverick, Just had run against Mayor Paul Amico in 1989 and lost, but had switched sides in 1991 to successfully become mayor in 1992, alienating many of his former supporters such as former Board of Education member Tom Troyer.
"I liked Tony Just before he switched sides," Troyer said recently.
For most of the 1990s, Troyer because as much of a thorn in Just's side as Just had been in Amico's. Just, during one of many comic and often very vocal confrontations, broke his gavel banging it to get Troyer to stay quiet. The gavel head nearly hit Troyer, and to this day, Troyer believes Just threw the gavel at him.
"He was a pit bull if he thought he was right," Campanella said. "And it was hard to convince him otherwise. But he was very honest. He disliked 'pay to play,' and he was always helping people who were in need."
The environment was his thing Nearly everyone agrees that Just's legacy will always be his effort to create and maintain open space.
"Just grew up in a Secaucus that is different from what Secaucus became," Pope said. "He wanted to preserve what he could of the old Secaucus."
"I want to hold onto what's nice about Secaucus. I want to maintain it as a hometown,'" Just said during an interview in the early 1990s. "I'm not looking at what I can make out of it. I just want to save a little of what I had when I grew up."
Restraining development because one of the central themes of Just's administration. He successfully derailed a residential development project slated for the Mill Creek area of Secaucus, but was frustrated in his efforts to halt what was then called "Allied Junction," the rail link that has become the hub of a massive redevelopment of the southern portion of the town.
"Development is not the town of Secaucus," Just said. "If I can keep the town so people are happy to stay here, then that's what I want to do. I want people to feel safe here. I want kids to have pride saying that they come from Secaucus, go to church and school here."
This was a philosophy Just maintained almost to the day of his death. In the last election, he joined forces with his former rival, Amico, to support the "Take Back Secaucus" council ticket headed by now-Councilman Michael Gonnelli.
"He has to be seen as the open space and environmental mayor," Pope said. "Prior to Just, Secaucus saw unprecedented growth, and Just came in with a vision to maintain a sense of what Secaucus was."
Most importantly, Just loved kids "Mayor Just always had a way of inspiring younger people. He was very youth oriented," Pope said. "When I first got inspired politics, he got me involved and other young guys in the early 1970s. He could communicate with teenagers and younger kids. He was almost a grandfather to young people."
Although sometimes confrontational, Just had a big heart, often looking out for the interests of town employees.
"When it came to personal things, if you needed someone to talk to, no matter what side you were on politically, he would listen to you," Pope said. "I spent a lot of time in his house as a young man, and people often over look his kindness. He was very dedicated to his family, and made certain they were taken care of."
Just was something of a poor man's philosopher, too and he often compared life to a garden.
"You put a seed in the ground and watch it grow. If anyone ever had any doubt about there being an almighty God all they have to do is look at His art," Just said during one interview. Surviving are two sons, Anthony E. Jr., and his wife Jo Ann and Robert; a daughter, Mary Beth Just; a brother, George Just; three grandchildren, Michael Just, Danielle Just, and Justin Machia; three step grandsons, Vincent, Brian and Chris Smentkowski; four great-grandchildren, and a son-in-law, Peter Smentkowski.
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