Setaro House

The West End Hotel wasn’t just a hotel.

It was more like a boarding house — with rooms rented by the day, maybe even by the hour, while some guests stayed for days, weeks, or months. Our own family living upstairs for 3 years at one point. With the train station right out front and the Setaro safe house next door, this block was built for movement: travelers, workers, families, and eventually bootleggers passing through Red Bank.

When we try to imagine what places like this felt like, we often look to the artwork of James Avati — who painted Red Bank residents, local settings, and scenes from the same world and time periods we’re exploring.

His work feels like a window into the rooms, staircases, bars, and boarding houses where these stories may have unfolded.

The more we dig, the more the West End Hotel becomes one of the key crossroads in this story.

The exploding jacket story keeps getting stranger.

According to the articles, the explosives were found tied to an Italian band jacket — the kind worn by local musicians or marching groups in the immigrant community.

But that raises the real question:

Why was this man wearing or carrying that jacket in the first place?
And why were bombs hidden inside it?

Moments later, he’s badly injured and running back toward the West End Hotel — the same building that keeps showing up again and again in this story.

Was it an accident?
Labor intimidation?
A setup?
Or something much bigger?

We’re still following the trail.

The more we dig into the “exploding jacket” story, the stranger it gets.

Why would explosives be sewn into a jacket in the first place?

One theory: this happened in 1912, just before a presidential visit to Red Bank — the same month the Titanic sank, with some of the most powerful people in the financial world tied to that moment. With Strauss family connections nearby and labor tensions already boiling over around the Eisner factory, the timing raises questions.

Was this labor intimidation?
A botched bombing?
Or something even bigger?

We’re not saying we have the answer yet — but the pieces are starting to point toward a much darker possibility.

One of the wildest stories we’ve found in Red Bank’s early 1900s history starts right here at the old West End Hotel.

In 1912, during a period of violent labor unrest tied to the Eisner factory, a man staying at the West End was reportedly carrying a jacket with explosives hidden inside.

He didn’t realize what he had on him until it was too late.

The bomb went off, blowing off his hand and badly mangling his arm — a brutal reminder that before Prohibition made headlines, Red Bank was already dealing with labor battles, intimidation, and violence in the streets.

And once again, the trail leads back to the West End Hotel.

Inside the basement of Brothers, Casey asked about one of the stranger stories we’ve uncovered: the “exploding jacket.”

It ties back to the labor fights of the early 1900s, when strikes could turn violent and intimidation was part of the pressure campaign. If someone didn’t stand with the group, the message could come fast — a porch blown up, a threat made, or in this case… a story about explosives hidden in a jacket.

Before Prohibition fully took over the headlines, Red Bank was already a place of labor battles, immigrant struggles, and backroom tension.

And somehow, we’re talking about all of it in the basement of a pizza place.

Before Red Bank became the town we know today, it was a transportation hub.

Multiple rail lines moved in and out of town, including the Central Rail Line that once ran along Morford Place toward the river, Oyster Point, and Middletown.

That detail matters.

Because the original Setaro house — the family safe house — sat right here, directly behind the passenger and freight depot. People, goods, information, and eventually liquor could move in and out quickly.

When you understand the rail lines, the docks, and the streets, you begin to understand why this block mattered so much.

This wasn’t just a neighborhood.

It was a network.

Every time we follow this story, it brings us back to St. Anthony’s.

For decades, Red Bank’s Italian families fought to build a church of their own — a sacred place that would carry their faith, their names, their struggles, and their memory.

This mural of St. Anthony once stood behind the altar, watching over generations of families who helped build this community from the ground up.

But years before the church was finally built, there was already a clue in the newspapers: Stella Genovese singing at a fair to raise money for the new Italian Catholic church.

It’s a small detail — but in Rum on the Navesink, those small details open entire doors.



The story always comes back here.

I filmed this back in the winter of 2023, standing at Twin Lights in Highlands, looking out across a view that felt almost unchanged by time.

With the leaves down, you could see the water, the hills, the coastline, and understand why this place mattered.

Twin Lights is remembered as the place where the Pledge of Allegiance was first read aloud publicly — a moment wrapped in flags, patriotism, and the idea of what it meant to belong to this country.

But for families like ours, that idea was complicated.

Italian immigrants came here chasing opportunity, safety, and a future. Yet again and again, they were asked to prove their loyalty. To say the oath. To pledge allegiance. To show they were American enough.

This Memorial Day weekend, that history hits differently.

Because our ancestors didn’t just come here.
They worked here. Built here. Served here. Sacrificed here.
And their children and grandchildren carried that story forward.

From Sassano to Red Bank.
From Twin Lights to the Navesink.
This is part of the larger American story we’re still uncovering.

When Casey Webb says, “I want to go in there,” you go in there.

We were in the basement of what was once the West End Hotel — now Brothers — a building with layers of Red Bank history that go back before the local newspapers were even documenting the town in detail.

This was more than just an old hotel. It was once tied to an underground brewery, Prohibition raids, John Calandriello’s bootlegging network, and the Setaro safe house that sat right next door on Morford Place.

With , , and Setaro House, we’re continuing to follow the trail beneath one of Red Bank’s most familiar places.

Sometimes history isn’t hidden in an archive.
Sometimes it’s behind an old basement door.

The future of recycling education is rolling through Monmouth County this summer. ♻️🎮

Our immersive educational video game trailer featuring CYCLE will be popping up at events all over the county, giving kids and families a chance to learn about recycling, litter prevention, and cleaner communities through hands-on gameplay.

From racing through neighborhoods collecting trash, to sorting recyclables, to exploring custom game modes and interactive characters — this is STEM learning, environmental education, and immersive storytelling all in one experience.

Be on the lookout for the trailer at events throughout Monmouth County this summer.

Interested in bringing the trailer to your school, town, or community event for FREE?
Email: [email protected]