It is, actually. Hundreds of them. And they’ve been collected into books. One, The New Jersey Joke Book, was published in the late 1990s. The book fills its 160 pages by trading on a series of hoary stereotypes, including the idea that New Jersey smells, that it’s devoid of culture and filled with troglodytes, that it’s a dense patch of traffic noise and rude drivers who don’t even pump their own gas, that it’s a haven for mobsters and urban corruption.
The jokes in the book aren’t, for the most part, any good. (New Jersey Mom: “I think Billy’s spoiled.” New Jersey Dad: “Nonsense, all New Jersey kids smell that way.”) The author is mediocre at best. Still, more eloquent tongues than his have gone to work on the state. Benjamin Franklin had his own version of the no-culture dig. “New Jersey,” he said, “is a barrel tapped at both ends.” In this, he disagreed with William Penn, who preceded Franklin as a Pennsylvania eminence, to the point where he gave the state its name. Of New Jersey, he declared that “it is not right in any to despise or dispraise it.”
Over time, though, the sword that people use to take swipes at New Jersey has been mightier than the Penn. There are reasons for this. The first impression many people get of the state—due to arrivals in airports or trips out of New York City—is the dense industrial patch around Newark on the Turnpike. That’s not a best-foot-forward situation, and it obscures the fact that, even though New Jersey is the most densely populated state in the country, it’s also about 40 percent forested. And sure, it’s true that New Jersey does not have a single majestic metropolis that rivals New York or Philadelphia, which means that certain cultural institutions are ceded north and south. But that doesn’t account for the majority of the negative attention. Does it come from New York’s condescension or New Jersey’s own inferiority complex? Or maybe it’s the result of discrimination against the state’s historically strong ethnic populations, especially Italian Americans.
Asking and answering these questions is the job of this magazine. And not just this issue. This entire magazine. New Jersey Monthly was founded back in 1976 by Hendrix Niemann and Christopher Leach, two Princeton grads and budding journalists who felt that their state was getting the short end of the stick. Ten years ago, for the magazine’s 40th anniversary, Niemann reflected on the inspiration.
“Chris and I had always thought it was ridiculous that New Jersey—at the time, the eighth most populous state in the country—did not have its own TV stations, did not have a newspaper with the reputation of the New York Times or the Philadelphia Inquirer, did not have a magazine. We felt the coverage, both broadcast and print, of New Jersey tended to be overly negative and stereotypical.”
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So they hatched a plan to rectify the situation. They would start a magazine to do for the Garden State what New York Magazine, founded by Clay Felker and Milton Glaser in 1968, had done for the Empire State: defend its honor with sharp wit and youthful energy. “We were going to fix that single-handedly and fulfill our dream at the same time,” Niemann said.
The road to publication wound through a thicket of fellow Princetonians, outside investors, community partners and ambitious young journalists, and what finally emerged in November 1976 was an 88-page, advertiser-supported issue that tackled everything from media markets to state elections to a long feature on the vexed history of the state’s income tax. The magazine, like the state around it, was no joke.
“We felt the coverage, both broadcast and print, of New Jersey tended to be overly negative and stereotypical. We were going to fix that single-handedly and fulfill our dream at the same time.”
—Hendrix Niemann, cofounder, New Jersey Monthly
For half a century now, New Jersey Monthly has been untangling the state’s negative reputation and subjecting it to scrutiny. Now, 50 years in, we are inviting writers to wrestle with the worst of it—to take up the insults, scorn, and opprobrium heaped upon the Garden State, and then take them down.
How does that work? Well, consider the idea that New Jersey is a Mafia hotbed. Sure, the state has been home to organized crime figures, but it doesn’t compare to New York, Chicago or even Philadelphia. The reason for the association, as the magazine’s excellent coverage has proven over the years, has more to do with geography and the fact that the state has always been contested and highly valuable territory, rich in trucking, waterfront unions, construction, and gambling. On top of that, the plethora of upscale suburbs means that shady characters can disappear into leafy streets. The idea of the Jersey mobster hovered for years in the background of movies like The Godfather, but the narrative was supercharged around the turn of the 21st century, with the arrival of The Sopranos. The crown jewel of the first wave of peak TV, the show followed the personal and professional life of Tony Soprano, a fictional Mafia don based in North Caldwell. The show became iconic not just in New Jersey, not just in the United States, but internationally.
Most other Jersey stereotypes fail to hold up under even the slightest scrutiny. A stupid state? Sure, except for the world-class universities and exceptionally high rates of secondary-school completion. A poor, grimy state? Definitely, except for the fact that it runs neck-and-neck with Massachusetts for highest median household income. Oh, but those are the punchlines, or the punch-back lines, and to go into them at too great a length would steal this issue’s thunder. So put down your Fat Sandwich, do a Jersey Slide at the next exit, and read on. —Ben Greenman
We’re the Reel Deal
Happy Gilmore 2. Disclosure Day. Severance. The Beast in Me. These recent projects all have one thing in common: They filmed in New Jersey. No longer are Hollywood and New York top dogs for moviemakers. In the last few years, New Jersey has rightfully reclaimed its position as a center of the industry, nearly 200 years after birthing it. (In case you didn’t learn this in history class, the country’s first film studio opened at Thomas Edison’s lab in West Orange, and Fort Lee was the inaugural movie capital of the U.S.) Jersey is embracing its newly coined role as Hollywood East—and the nickname is here to stay.
Need proof? New Jersey was the only state to actually grow its production output in the first quarter of 2026, per a survey from ProdPro. Jersey’s generous tax incentives are a major reason the film biz loves us, but that’s just part of the appeal. Our geographical diversity—urban, rural, suburban, coastal and mountainous landscapes all located within one small state—is enticing. Filmmakers also appreciate our state’s experienced production crews, as well as the New Jersey Motion Picture and Television Commission’s recently formed Film Ready New Jersey program, which gives towns the tools they need to attract movies and TV shows, and productions the detailed information they need about these towns when scouting locations.
Major studios are flocking here, too—Netflix Studios at Fort Monmouth, Lionsgate in Newark, and 1888 Studios in Bayonne, anchored by Paramount, are all in development.
All this action is helping our state and our small businesses from an economic standpoint. It’s also adding a dash of glitz to a place where some people only expect grime. —Julie Gordon
We’ve Got Great Taste
Moving across the river to attend college at NYU, my son was excited to sample all the incredible culinary offerings there. But after a few weeks in the city, he called home with some news: “Mom, you’re not going to believe this, but the bagels and pizza are better in New Jersey!” I do believe it.
Why take the bridge or tunnel to New York when New Jersey has one of the best food scenes around, with many of the top chefs who once worked in the city coming home to open first-rate restaurants here? From the evocative fine dining of the Saddle River Inn to the innovative Japanese/Italian cuisine at Montclair’s PastaRAMEN, to the incredibly creative Asian food at Ram & Rooster in Metuchen, the food scene here is dynamic.
Many of our chefs and restaurants are James Beard Award nominees and winners, including David Viana (Lita) and Russ Cowan (Radin’s Deli). Wine Spectator regularly awards Jersey restaurants for their wine lists, and publications like Esquire have recognized Garden State restaurants on their various tops lists.
As for the pizza, of course it’s on par with New York’s—or better. Think Coniglio’s in Morristown and Asbury Park, or Razza in Jersey City, which the New York Times awarded three stars and asked in its headline: “Is New York’s Best Pizza in New Jersey?”
We also have incredible diversity; you can get anything from Indian to Portuguese to Korean food. You don’t have to travel to find great international cuisine—it’s all here.
And the bagels? We don’t just have quantity, we have quality. Is it the water or just the know-how? Who knows? We’re just lucky to live in a place where we can have world-class meals without setting foot outside the state. —Jacqueline Mroz
That’s Right…We’re Smart Asses
Nobody liked telling a good joke more than Dick Codey.
I was a reporter for the Bergen Record covering Codey’s colorful 14-month stint as New Jersey’s acting governor. Codey, who died last January at the age of 79, was a consummate schmoozer who used his Irish wit to charm impressionable reporters like me.
One morning, in 2005, my phone rang. It was Dick Codey with a joke. He had a new official slogan for the Garden State. “You ready?’’ he asked. “New Jersey: What’s that smell?’’
After he stopped chortling, Codey got serious. He wanted to stage a public contest to find an official state slogan. He had already scrapped an idea advanced by a $250,000 state consultant to adopt “New Jersey, we’ll win you over.’’
“That’s the stupidest damn thing I ever heard,’’ Codey told me. “It makes it look like we’re a bunch of schmucks who need to prove ourselves. We don’t need to prove a damn thing.’’
Codey wanted a story about how great New Jersey is. He mostly wanted a story about how smart New Jersey is. He reminded me that New Jersey public school students post better scores on standardized tests than kids in any other state. He reminded me that surveys routinely rank Princeton University as the best American college. (In 2026, U.S News & World Report listed it at number 1 for the 15th straight year.)
He reminded me about New Jersey’s long history of innovation. “What about Edison?’’ Codey said. (For the record, Thomas Edison invented the incandescent light bulb in 1879 at his Menlo Park lab.)
“What about Einstein?’’ Codey said. “Where did he go when the Nazis ran him out? Jersey!’’ Albert Einstein, indeed, came to Princeton in 1933 to escape Nazi persecution. He was a founding fellow of the Institute for Advanced Study at Princeton. The institute, in its 96-year history, has established itself as one of the world’s most prestigious think tanks. Thirty-seven Nobel laureates, including atomic-bomb mastermind Robert Oppenheimer, have lived and worked at the institute.
Codey capped his arguments with a simple data point: A greater percentage of New Jersey residents have college degrees and advanced graduate degrees than residents of any other state. (The percentage fluctuates year to year, but New Jersey routinely ranks in the top 5.) A 2025 analysis by Safe Home, the security company, even called New Jersey “America’s smartest state.’’ The survey, which cited high school graduation rates, SAT scores and professional degrees, placed New Jersey a full 13 points higher than the second-place finisher, Utah.
Codey himself graduated from Fairleigh Dickinson University in 1981. He had attended four colleges before finally earning his diploma. He went on to become a successful insurance broker, a legendary politician, and one of New Jersey’s leading purveyors of one-liners.
“I may not be a smart guy, but I know one when I see one,’’ he said. —Jeff Pillets
Gosh, We’re Beautiful
Pride of place is expected. Every state has its virtues, after all, though some seem to lift up their positives by putting down the competition. Life in New Jersey unfolds in shady suburbs, beachside towns and bustling cities; we can simply let our facts speak for our small, mighty state.
In our just-under-9,000 square miles, changing scenery doesn’t require a plane ticket—just a tank of gas. Within hours, you can trade the Jersey Shore for the cool forests of the Highlands, hike a piece of the Appalachian Trail, wander and sip your way through vineyards, paddle along the Delaware River, or stroll an upscale, restaurant-packed downtown.
First, the landscape: Our 130-plus miles of Atlantic coast draws sun lovers to more than 100 beaches, from the hip happenings of Asbury Park to the retro fun of Wildwood to the Victorian charm of Cape May. For forest lovers, there are many green spaces to explore. Most unique is the Pine Barrens, one of the country’s most diverse wilderness areas. Because of its distinctive ecosystem, it is home to unusual native flora and fauna, like rare orchids. The forest is a habitat for mammals, fish, birds and insects that thrive in its confines. Earning our Garden State label, South Jersey’s farms supply the region and beyond with a bounty of blueberries, cranberries, tomatoes, spinach and more.
We are the most densely populated state and one of the most ethnically varied. Jersey City, the state’s second-largest city, is also the second most diverse in the nation, with more than 100 ethnicities calling it home. It is one of the country’s fastest-growing real estate markets owing to its proximity to Manhattan and water-view high-rises. Suburbs like Ridgewood, Princeton and Millburn have earned national attention for their school systems and cultural amenities. During the pandemic, more than 50,000 New Yorkers crossed the river to make homes here. The state’s burgeoning film industry has noted our state is a bit of chameleon—charming downtowns, urban streetscapes, Shore towns, historic villages and other environments make ideal stand-ins for almost anywhere.
Here, we enjoy active outdoor lifestyles, vibrant professional lives, and many places to play close to home. —Deborah P. Carter
