Imagine being forced to attend a crucial town meeting in freezing temperatures, all because you dared to question a 20% hike in beach fees. That’s exactly what happened to nearly 50 residents of a Jersey Shore town, who were met with folding chairs in a parking lot on a bone-chilling 27-degree morning. But here’s where it gets controversial: officials claimed the indoor venue couldn’t accommodate everyone due to fire code restrictions, leaving locals shivering as they confronted their elected leaders about the proposed fee increase for the 2026 summer.
The outrage didn’t stop at the cold. Residents, including the deputy mayor and former commissioners, had already rallied against the ordinance passed in January. They gathered enough signatures—at least 15% of registered voters—to force a special election, demanding taxpayer approval for the fee hike. And this is the part most people miss: instead of facing the election, the board of commissioners repealed the ordinance during the frosty meeting, proposing to keep fees at 2025 levels. But the decision wasn’t unanimous, exposing growing divisions among Mayor Frieda Adjmi, Deputy Mayor Theresa Manziano-Santoro, and Commissioner Joseph Dweck.
Santoro, who had been removed as beach commissioner by her colleagues in a move she called “nasty,” recused herself from the vote after signing the petition. Is this a power play or a principled stand? The borough attorney even directed her to leave the makeshift dais during the vote, adding another layer of drama to the chilly proceedings.
Mayor Adjmi defended the initial fee hike as part of a long-term plan for “much-needed Beach Club improvements,” but residents weren’t buying it. “Am I the only one that thinks this is a bunch of garbage?” one attendee asked, echoing widespread frustration. Here’s the real question: Why propose a fee hike when the beach club’s revenue jumped from $2.1 million in 2024 to $2.9 million in 2025? Officials remained tight-lipped, refusing to disclose how the funds were being used or whether plans for improvements even existed.
The fee disparity between residents and nonresidents also sparked debate. For instance, a seasonal cabana would have cost residents $6,660 in 2026, compared to a staggering $13,320 for nonresidents. Is this fair, or does it cross legal boundaries? Tonie Dunn, a longtime beach club patron, cited New Jersey case law requiring municipal fees to reflect actual costs, not act as a disguised tax. Yet, without a budget in sight, residents are left in the dark about how their money is being spent.
While the repeal of the fee hike was a small victory for some, many feel the town’s issues run deeper. “The beach club belongs to the taxpayers, not Mayor Adjmi,” one attendee remarked. So, what’s next for this divided community? Is this the end of the battle, or just the beginning? Let us know your thoughts in the comments—do you think the fee hike was justified, or is there more to this story than meets the eye?
