Daniel Rubin | In chic Margate, a salty old place

Outside, the news teams are circling the bay. Camera crews scout the best spots for stand-ups. Reporters practice their lines.

Meanwhile, in the darkness of Maynard's Cafe - the essence of the Jersey Shore, circa 1954 - owner Steve Troiano is on the phone with the AP. Earlier, it was the BBC.

He's calm. No, he says, the fight didn't start here. The Welsh tourist who died was drinking here that night. But there was no trouble at Maynard's.

"It's a runaway train," he says, sitting down to a cup of coffee. Maynard's being in the news is giving Troiano a headache. But he's getting used to it.

I visited this Margate time capsule after hearing that Maynard's was feeling the pressure that comes when land values rise, condos replace motels and developers eye local color as something to rip down and redo.

Last month it took the New Jersey Supreme Court to save Maynard's from a death sentence.

Back in 2002, an undercover agent bought a small amount of cocaine from a cook at the tavern. Then he made five more buys. That prompted the state Alcohol Beverage Control Division to order the place closed for 730 days.

That was 90 days for each buy, plus 190 more for "aggravating circumstance." It didn't matter that the cook testified he'd have been fired on the spot if Troiano had known what was going on.

Or that in 53 years, since Troiano's father, Big Al, took over the place, Maynard's had not had a single liquor-license violation. The bar appealed.

The court accused the agency of having a few too many. Unanimously, the justices wrote that ABC's punishment was "shocking to one's sense of fairness."

Those hoping to see the tide of progress sweep away Maynard's must wait for another day.

On one side stands Tomatoes - all earth tones and contemporary chic. Its owner once described its menu offerings as "sushi theater."

On the other rises Sofia - your basic Mediterranean villa, with white-washed stone, wrought-iron chandeliers and $35 pieces of fish.

In the middle is Maynard's, where interior decorating means hanging Pabst Blue Ribbon empties on cup hooks. It's salty.

"The last bar in Margate," proclaims pourer Don Donleavy, 70, who's owned three Shore spots himself: The Opus 1 in Atlantic City (now a T-shirt factory), the Mug in Egg Harbor (burned down), and the Elbow Room in Margate (Jerry Blavat's Memories).

"And by that, I mean it's the last real bar. Just a lovely place. The prices are right and the food is good, for what it is. Lots of people met their wives here."

Another trusted hand is Buddy McCabe, Troiano's pal for 40 years. Buddy showed up in 1972, when a dozen or so bars gave Margate the nickname "the Barbary Coast."

"It was pretty wild," recalls the Delaware County native, who rented a summer shack with several pals for about $350 each. "It was like Mardi Gras, with people just spilling into the streets."

"You had Gables, the Olde Tavern, Merrill's, Moylan's, the Beacon, Maloney's, the White House, the Green House, the Ocean Pub, the Elbow Room . . . "

And Maynard's, named for Billy Maynard, a turn-of-the-century Brooklyn featherweight who fought the likes of Harlem Tommy Murphy, Kid Stein and Crocky Boyle.

Maynard's has stayed the same - pool tables, peanut shells on the floor, bathing suits and flip-flops welcome - as the neighborhood has caught on fire.

"It started to change about seven or eight years ago," Troiano says. "They changed zoning laws. Eliminated motels and group rentals. My gut feeling is they're trying to eliminate the bar. They want very upscale places, and there are very nice places here - I frequent them. They just don't want us."