Hoboken, N.J.: Start Spreading The News

Sinatra, Sinatra, Sinatra. He's everywhere in Hoboken. You can walk along Frank Sinatra Drive or watch cruise ships steam by Frank Sinatra Park. Maybe there's too much of the guy: At Bagels on the Hudson, a creepy caricature of him touts baked goods on a sidewalk sign.

For a buck, the Hoboken Historical Museum will sell you "Hoboken: The Sinatra Tour," a 23-stop journey through the city's streets. "Don't expect much at his birthplace and some of the other sites," warns a volunteer as he hands over the map. "But you'll still get a good sense of the man."

The warning is not unwarranted. A bronze star embedded in concrete near the empty lot where the dead crooner's birthplace once stood is a mess. There's a smudge on the tip of one its points, and you can barely read some of the smaller gunk-covered type under "Francis Albert Sinatra The Voice." A few feet away, a dog has left an unseemly deposit on the sidewalk.

Farther afield, St. Ann's Church, where Sinatra is said to have made his singing debut, and St. Francis Church, where he was baptized, are locked but lovely. Other buildings, such as City Hall (where he received a key to the city) and Lepore's Chocolates (packed with memorabilia), are also closed on this Sunday afternoon.

At some sites, all that remains is a street address. Tutty's Bar was a dive where, according to the map, "Sinatra would hang out with his friends on the corner and sing a capella." Look for the hole in the ground waiting for redevelopment. The Cat's Meow, where he "slept under a pool table," is a deli, while the gym he joined during the Depression is a windowless shell.

Sinatra once performed at the Fabian Theater. Now you can buy Altoids at the CVS that sits in its place.

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Not too long ago, a flourishing chain drugstore would have been considered a godsend to Hoboken.

Though the area had been settled since Colonial days, the city -- nestled in that sweet spot between the Holland and Lincoln tunnels and Jersey City and Weehawken (okay, maybe that's not so sweet) -- was incorporated in 1855. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, it was a thriving shipping and commerce port, and such companies as Lipton Tea and Hostess were based here.

In the 1950s, however, container shipping became popular and the port couldn't accommodate the deep-water vessels or their cargo. Businesses fled, buildings were abandoned. By the '70s, the city was a dilapidated mess, a joke butt in a state that has taken more than its share of knocks.

A few signs remain of that not-so-ancient history, with some buildings in disrepair and a skeletal pier jutting into the Hudson. But the Brandoesque longshoremen are long gone, replaced by a curvy pedestrian path that lopes along the river. Coming soon on the waterfront: a posh 225-room W, the city's newest -- and only -- hotel.

Because parts of Hoboken occupy a gentle slope (capped by the Stevens Institute of Technology, on a bluff about 100 feet over the river), walking can be a bit strenuous. But Hobokenites are a sturdy breed, so that's not enough activity. Hence, there's a skateboard park on Frank Sinatra Drive, with a kid's-eye view of the Empire State Building, and down the bend in Sinatra Park, sweaty adults play soccer while onlookers dodge bicyclists. At Pier A -- a dock turned green space, with a massive lawn, a fountain and a gazebo -- joggers nearly outnumber sunbathers.