ATLANTIC CITY—They come for the “training.” They stay for the open bar.
Next week, thousands of New Jersey’s political class will descend upon the Atlantic City Convention Center for the 111th Annual New Jersey League of Municipalities Conference, a three-day bacchanal of backslapping, boozing, and backroom dealing that has become synonymous with the worst excesses of Garden State governance. While the official program promises “175 sessions” on municipal policy and “networking opportunities,” the real action will unfold in the suites, ballrooms, and hotel bars of America’s Playground—where lobbyists and power brokers foot the bill for an endless parade of receptions designed to buy influence one cocktail at a time.
The conference officially runs November 17-19, but the party started years ago. A 2019 NJ Advance Media investigation shattered the League’s respectable facade, revealing a “toxic culture” in which alcohol-fueled after-parties served as hunting grounds for predators. A lobbyist and a politician told reporters they were raped while attending the League convention in recent years.
Others described being groped or sexually propositioned at the parties that follow the convention’s official programming. The revelations prompted an Assembly resolution urging the League and the Chamber of Commerce to implement reforms, including a Code of Conduct and anti-harassment policies. Critics say the only real change has been to drive the depravity further underground.
The League’s executive director, Michael Darcy, has insisted that the organization “does not host the boozy lunches, dinners or cocktail parties” and that “if it didn’t happen in the convention center from 9 a.m. and 5:15 p.m., it didn’t happen at a League event”. It is a distinction without a difference. The lobbyists who bankroll the after-hours festivities are the same interests seeking favorable votes on contracts, redevelopment deals, and tax abatements. The politicians who attend know exactly why they are there.
This is not new. In 1996, CBS’s “60 Minutes” aired a hidden-camera exposé from a League convention in which a United Gunite executive was filmed offering money to a cameraman filming the company’s booth. When the money was returned later, the executive reportedly said he wanted to buy the cameraman lunch. Three decades later, the more things change, the more they stay the same—only now the cash has been replaced by unlimited expense accounts and the lunches have become open-bar receptions overlooking the Boardwalk.
The 2026 conference schedule already reveals the contours of the feeding frenzy. On Tuesday alone, attendees can choose from the Sustainable Jersey Annual Luncheon at the Convention Center, a “Taste of the Garden State” wine tasting hosted by Stockton University and the New Jersey Wine Growers Association at the university’s Atlantic City campus, and a Rutgers cocktail reception co-sponsored by no fewer than nine university entities including the Eagleton Institute of Politics and Rutgers Law School. Each event is a chance for lobbyists to press flesh with the officials who will decide the fate of their clients’ permits, contracts, and zoning requests. Each reception is a transaction dressed in the language of “networking.”
The timing could not be more obscene. Just last year, as Roselle homes smoldered and nearly 40 constituents—including 11 children—faced homelessness, the borough’s mayor and council members were photographed smiling and clinking glasses at League parties sponsored by corporate lobbyists. “Must be nice having a great time at the NJ League of Municipalities while 40 of your residents are burnt out and homeless!!” one furious resident wrote online. The officials offered no apology. They never do.
The League has taken steps to address the most egregious behavior. A Code of Conduct now exists. Anti-harassment training is offered. But the fundamental architecture of the event—the lobbyist-funded parties, the alcohol-soaked receptions, the unspoken understanding that access is currency—remains untouched. The predators may have been forced to be more careful. The culture that enabled them has not changed.
What happens in Atlantic City next week will not be reported in the official conference recap. It will not appear in the League’s press releases or the smiling group photos posted to social media. But the lobbyists will be there, expense accounts in hand. The politicians will be there, eager for the next round. And somewhere in the crowded ballrooms and dimly lit bars, the line between public service and self-service will blur into oblivion once again.
The people of New Jersey deserve better than a political class that treats governance as a perk and accountability as an afterthought. But until the free drinks stop flowing, nothing will change.
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