Setaro House

Before Morford Place became part of Red Bank’s Prohibition story, this little stretch of town may have already been tied to something much deeper.

The Setaro safe house sat in one of the most strategic spots in Red Bank — tucked behind the passenger and freight depot of the Central Railroad line, close to the West End Hotel, and connected by a narrow path toward the river.

During Prohibition, that location made it ideal for moving liquor.

But before alcohol, people may have been the thing moving quietly through this corridor.

There have long been stories that the Underground Railroad may have passed through this area, making this block a possible crossroads of escape, immigration, survival, and eventually bootlegging.

This is the prequel to the prequel.

Before we get into the history of Brother’s, we have to start next door.

On Morford Place, directly behind the passenger and freight depot of the Central Railroad line, stood the original Setaro safe house — a place used by early Italian travelers and, later, bootleggers moving through Red Bank during Prohibition.

Between that house and the West End Hotel was a narrow 15-foot path that led straight toward Old Allen’s Dock at the foot of Maple Avenue.

Rail line behind it. Hotel beside it. River access just down the path.

This wasn’t random.

This was geography, family, and opportunity all coming together in one small block of Red Bank.

History, pizza, and bootleggers… what else do you need?

We’re kicking off the next chapter of On the Trail of the Bootleggers outside Brother’s in Red Bank — a pizza place that sits right at the center of our family’s story.

Before Brother’s, this building was tied to the old West End Hotel, and directly next door stood the original Setaro House — a safe house used by early Italian travelers and, later, bootleggers moving through Red Bank during Prohibition.

So this one is personal.

A triple collaboration between and as we dig into pizza, Prohibition, the Setaro safe house, and the hidden history of this block.

And yes… Casey just wants a slice. 🍕

More coming soon.

The first time I saw this view, it clicked.

From Vito Genovese’s office in Atlantic Highlands, you could see everything — the Navy pier below, Sandy Hook off to the right, the harbor, and lower Manhattan in the distance.

This wasn’t just a beautiful view.

It was a perch.

A place high above the Jersey Shore where the docks, the water routes, and the world he was connected to all lined up in one frame.

Standing there, all I could say was:
“Oh yeah… this is it.”

More from Rum on the Navesink coming soon.

Before it became one of Red Bank’s favorite pizza spots, this building was the West End Hotel — a place tied directly into our family’s Prohibition-era story.

The Setaro safe house sat right next door on Morford Place, behind the rail line and near the old waterfront routes that helped fuel Red Bank’s bootlegging history. After the safe house was shut down in 1931, the family lived upstairs above the West End Hotel.

Years later, when the building became Brother’s, the story came full circle — our Aunt Rosie, the oldest Setaro daughter, worked there helping the family.

So yes… even one of Red Bank’s best pizza places has a bootlegging past.

More coming soon. 🍕🥃

Before the safe houses, before the bootlegger battles, before Vito Genovese became part of our family’s complicated history — there was this photograph.

My 2x great-grandfather Domenico Setaro, pictured with my great-grandfather Giovanni and his sister Nicolina around 1888, when our family was first beginning to settle in Red Bank.

This image is one of the earliest pieces of the story. A young family arriving from Sassano, Italy, trying to build a new life at the foot of Cooper’s Bridge — not knowing that years later, Domenico’s death would become one of the events that shaped everything that followed.

This is where Rum on the Navesink begins: with family, memory, immigration, tragedy, and the hidden history of Monmouth County.

Two of the most iconic “trees of life” at Deep Cut Gardens have now been irreparably altered.

Planted during Vito Genovese’s estate years in the 1930s, these trees stood for nearly 90 years, arching over the waterfall in one of the garden’s most photographed views — surrounded by volcanic rock said to have been brought from the base of Mount Vesuvius.

That view, preserved in countless photographs, has now changed forever.

Another reminder of why documenting these places matters while we still can.

As a real estate agent and local historian, I really do think Red Bank has hit the tipping point.

Major development is already reshaping the town — from the entrance over Cooper’s Bridge to the train station area and beyond. Places that once held deep significance in our local story, including the old Italian colony, are now at the center of a new wave of change.

That doesn’t mean change is all bad. But it does mean the clock is ticking.

That’s why documenting these streets, these buildings, and these stories matters right now. Before the next phase of Red Bank arrives, we want people to remember what was here, who was here, and how this town became what it is.

From St. Anthony’s to Bridge Avenue and beyond, this is about preserving memory while the landscape changes in real time.

One of the game modes inside CYCLE: Landfill Loader. Take control of heavy equipment and push trash into the landfill at the reclamation center while learning more about the waste stream in a hands-on, interactive way.

This is exactly what we set out to do with CYCLE — make environmental education more engaging, memorable, and fun.

We’ll be at the Red Bank Green Fair at Red Bank Middle School this Wednesday from 5:00–6:30 PM for Earth Day. Come see it in action.

If you’re interested in booking the educational video game trailer for FREE for your event, email [email protected].