That side of paradise

Walk away from Palmer Square, head west on Nassau and make a right where the small green street sign says John. On one side is the red brick and whitewashed window facade of Talbots flushed against the pristinely painted back entrances to shops and boutiques that line the western half of Palmer Square.

There are Ann Taylor, Thomas Sweet Chocolates, La Plume et Papier, built below colonial revival style apartments with wrought iron fire escapes that stand opposite a spacious, multilevel garage. At the head of the street, positioned perpendicularly to John, stands Gap Kids, and to its left, a large, red, hexagonal sign that reads: STOP.

Curve around Hulfish Street and leave behind the high-rent buildings that Princeton Borough began building in 1936 to "revitalize the community." Paul Robeson Place lies ahead and then John continues on.

It turns into tree-lined blocks of one-family houses that date back to the end of the 19th century. It winds its way through a neighborhood with a rich history, dynamic present and uncertain future. It weaves through intricate patterns of various cultures that, through the years, have found different ways to coexist.

A short way down John Street, the blue awning of a storefront blends in with the homes built on either side. But the fading sign for a wedding photographer and the two old-fashioned vinyl swivel chairs seen through the window mark Jimmy's Barber Shop, not as a house, but as a community meeting place.

A few blocks away at La Jolie — a salon at the north side of Palmer Square — appointments are required and hair cuts cost between $30 and $64. But at Jimmy's shop, customers plop themselves down in owner Jimmy Mac's chairs, if they are unoccupied, and expect immediate and inexpensive service.

A sign on the wall reads:

Price List

$10.00—Men's regular hair cut $11.00—Women's hair cut $11.00—Afros

"Shape-up please," said Markese Brown, a sophomore at Princeton High School who entered the shop with two of his friends and hopped into the chair in front of Van Dyke Grant, Mac's assistant.

"This guy's been coming here since he was born," Grant said.

For Brown, Mac's barber shop is like a second home, located in the center of town.

"John Street and Clay Street are the main streets in Princeton," said Brown with a proud grin. "Like everyone comes here."

Brown, like countless others who have spent their lives in the John-Witherspoon community, believes that the lifeblood of Princeton has always flowed from a few narrow streets north of Nassau.

Over time, the John-Witherspoon neighborhood has acted as a magnet — drawing in people from other states and various parts of the world who have made the community the core around which they center their lives.

While Mac, directly out of the Navy, joined the family barber business in the summer of 1954, Kenia Martinez moved to the town from Mexico five years ago to help run her family's food store.

Martinez, a soft-spoken, 21-year-old woman with long, brown wavy hair seemed perfectly at peace sitting on a stool behind the counter listening to Spanish music.

"Buenas tardes," she said to the customers who walked in, greeting all with a tone of familiarity. Though her family recently bought a less expensive house in Lawrenceville, Martinez attended high school in Princeton for her last three years and remains closely connected with the community, working 13-hour shifts in her family's store.

"I like the town," Martinez said. "I think it's a better place to live here than New York."

The store itself welcomes its mostly Hispanic clientele with a sign that reads: "Abierto-Open" and a picture of the Virgin de Guadeloupe that hangs above the entranceway. In a counter display case, abundant bills from the Banco Central de Costa Rica, Banco Central de Honduras and Banco de Mexico dwarf their American counterparts.

"Sometimes Americans come in," Martinez said, "but mostly Mexicans because we have tortillas. And Guatemalans [come in] too."

But the grocery provides more than basic food necessities. Blankets and dolls rest above a refrigerator that contains Coke and Gatorade. Leather belts hang to the side of the oranges, tomatoes and dried chili peppers, and a case of dried, candied pumpkin sits next to a rack of Spanish CDs.

Within that one store can be found a physical manifestation of Martinez's community. But Hank Pannel, 61, who has lived in Princeton all of his life, sees the essence of his home in the swings, empty swimming pool and picnic benches of a playground.

Gazing at a slide as he stood in front of the site of his childhood amusement, Pannel said the Mary Moss Playground, on John Street, was named after a member of the community who had worked at the Princeton Nursery School.

"If somebody says to me, 'I'm from the Princeton community,' " chuckled Pannel, "the first thing I'll ask them is, 'Where's the Mary Moss playground?' "

Brown might ask someone what his favorite dish is at George's Downtown Deluxe. Though he and his friends sometimes go to Burger King, they go to George's almost every day and order cheese fries. They sit at one of five tables in a restaurant that simultaneously transports its customers to a dozen different countries and envelops them in a homey atmosphere.

George Cumberbatch — who moved to Princeton from the West Indies in 1973 and has owned his restaurant for 12 years — likes listening to jazz, keeps a guitar stored on a shelf above one of the tables and makes a mean dish of catfish. He has warm eyes and greets customers casually.

"I enjoy meeting customers and essentially making good food," Cumberbatch said as he deftly cut a raw chicken into pieces.

Patrons are so pleased with Cumberbatch's restaurant that they often bring him gifts from their world travels. The walls are adorned with an elephant carving from India, Polish plates and painted pottery from Ecuador.

But still, Pannel's restaurant has remained something of a divine secret.

"I've had people come from West Windsor who have said, 'We didn't know that this existed beyond Nassau Street,' " said Cumberbatch. "And then there are people who want to get away from the hustle and bustle of Nassau Street."

By taking a stroll down John Street, one leaves behind the hustle and bustle, and finds the heart of a vibrant community that is part of Princeton and at the same time something all its own.