Jones's Irish ancestry, a bagpiper played under a tree at the doors of the church, St. The funeral procession was equally vivid: a horse-drawn carriage was followed down Main Street by the King's red 1959 Corvette convertible, his pet golden retriever, Seamus, riding shotgun.
I'm sure he was just rolling, thinking, ''You guys are nuts, this is great.' '' ''This was just the perfect place rather than some funeral home down the street. ''This was his court this was what he was known by,'' Steve Jones said. Jones's body lay in an open casket across from the bar, in keeping with his half-joking request. Several thousand attended his wake, held in an oddly appropriate place: the Court Jester. Jones, nicknamed the King for his larger-than-life (and sometimes imperious) personality, became a local celebrity. ''It's like when you get your life back, you almost lost everything, you appreciate so much more.'' ''When he was given a second chance, he just took advantage of it,'' said his brother, Steve Jones, who now manages the Court Jester with Mr. Jones helped transform the borough as cofounder of a downtown improvement association, contributor to dozens of local charities and a candidate for mayor.
Crowds spill onto the red-bricked pavement on summer afternoons along the once bleak East Main Street. His restaurant, the Court Jester, is now the anchor in a bustling restaurant row. Jones had been sober for 19 years when he died this year of complications of liver damage related to his addiction.
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The former mill town was as bleak as Bruce Springsteen's song ''My Hometown'' lamented, with ''whitewashed windows and vacant stores.'' And privately, the big-talking businessman was hobbled by an addiction to drugs and alcohol. When Jeff (the King) Jones bought a rundown bar in Freehold in 1977 his plan to open a restaurant there seemed a bad bet. By accomplishment and example, they continue to enrich the communities where they lived and the people they lived with - both those who knew them well and those who will be making their acquaintance here for the first time. Here is a collection of vignettes, all written by Kirsty Sucato, about people whose deaths in the year 2000 diminished New Jersey. Other legacies live on as well: the vision that built a business or an art museum, the passion that fought a disease or an injustice, the perseverance that preserved a piece of land or a chapter of history. Memories remain alive, of course, for families, friends and colleagues. A FAMILIAR face missing from the cafeteria line, a vacant chair at the board meeting, an empty spot on the bench at the corner park - these are the kinds of holes that death tears in a community.
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