![]() “It’s ‘anchor’ as in the anchor of good things to come.” “It won’t be nautically themed,” Longacre promises. The Anchor Rock Club, as it’s to be called, is set to debut in July. Today, he’s trying to figure out just how big he needs to make the stage. Longacre just spent a fortune on a sound system. There’s a preternaturally ginormous disco ball in the center of everything. For the moment, though, the thumping pulse of a subwoofer has been replaced by the sounds of a work crew that’s transforming the room into Longacre’s dream: a thousand-person indie music venue that he describes as the Union Transfer of Atlantic City, but with the intimacy of Johnny Brenda’s. Deja Vu once pumped out house music at conversation-thwarting levels to guys in tight Ed Hardy t-shirts and girls in slinky dresses and strappy shoes. We’re standing on the currently railing-less second-floor balcony of what used to be Club Deja Vu, a nightclub at New York Avenue and the Boardwalk in Atlantic City, in between Bally’s and Resorts. But on this unseasonably cold and dreary day in early April, Longacre - a stocky 46-year-old with a penchant for craft beer - is about an hour southeast of his now-all-the-rage Point Breeze enclave, warning me not to trip and die.
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