Monmouth Executive Airport (originally known as Allaire Airport) has been a fixture of New Jersey’s aviation landscape since 1938, and is where my first flight lessons began in 2022. Built by Ed Brown, a self-taught aviator and Navy pilot, the airport began as a modest airfield carved out with a repurposed World War I tank borrowed from a local American Legion post. Over the decades, it evolved into a hub for private aviation, offering services ranging from skydiving and air taxis to hosting celebrities like Bruce Springsteen, who famously rehearsed with the E-Street Band in its hangars.
Under Brown’s stewardship, the airport became a community landmark. However, after Brown’s death in 2006, the property faced uncertainty. His estate sold the airport in 2013 to Wall Herald Corporation, a consortium led by investor Alan Antaki, who “transformed” it into the modern Monmouth Executive Airport (also called Monmouth Jet Center). Antaki paid off $2.8 million in delinquent taxes, upgrading infrastructure (including extending its runway to surpass LaGuardia Airport’s length), and tripling its business operations.
By 2024, the airport had become a bustling hub for private jets and helicopter services, generating nearly $900,000 annually in property taxes for Wall Township. Yet, its success story is now overshadowed by a contentious legal battle with Monmouth County.
The airport’s current struggles center on Monmouth County’s efforts to acquire it through eminent domain—a move Antaki and his legal team argue is driven by greed and political ambition rather than public need.
In 2021, Netflix announced plans to develop a $1 billion film production studio at Fort Monmouth, an abandoned Army base 12 miles north of the airport.The project, backed by $387 million in state tax incentives, promises economic revitalization for the county. Antaki alleges that county officials, including Commissioner Director Thomas Arnone (also a board member of the Fort Monmouth Economic Revitalization Authority), began targeting his airport shortly after Netflix’s commitment, aiming to capitalize on the area’s rising value: celebrities of course need somewhere close by to park their $60 million jets. Critics argue that the county seeks to control the airport’s 746 acres to align with broader redevelopment plans, though officials deny this.
County officials claim their interest stems from safety concerns and a desire to “preserve” the airport as a public asset. Arnone has cited “disturbing reports” about the facility’s condition, noting its neglected runways and infrastructure. Now, Arnone has a bit of a point here—As much as I’ve come to love KBLM, it’s clear that Wall Herald Corporation only cares about the 1% of the 1% flying in and out of the place. In 2023, the county hired Merchant Aviation, an international consulting firm, to assess the airport’s safety—a process Antaki calls a “PR trip” due to its limited scope (e.g., a rushed 2 a.m. inspection).
Antaki argues that the airport holds annual state certifications, no safety violations, and has never received FAA funding, exempting it from federal oversight. He accuses the county of fabricating issues to justify a takeover, noting Arnone’s public admission that owning an airport is a “pet peeve” and a status symbol for Monmouth. This is true, Arnone did quite literally say that it was a pet peeve of his that the county didn’t have its own airport, similarly to Ocean County’s Robert J. Miller Airpark or Lakewood Township’s N12.
Antaki’s legal filings reveal a pattern of alleged political obstruction:
- In 2018, Wall Township officials delayed a $4.5 million state grant for runway repairs, leading to its expiration.
- The county’s Office of Emergency Management reportedly blocked federal disaster-receiving site designation for the airport in 2019, limiting access to grants.
- State legislation (sponsored by Republicans linked to the county) enabled counties to manage airports as public utilities, easing condemnation efforts.
If seized, the airport’s value under eminent domain would hinge on its “highest and most valuable use”—potentially development, not aviation—which could burden taxpayers with hundreds of millions in acquisition and operational costs.
Eminent domain cases typically require a clear public benefit, such as infrastructure projects. New Jersey courts have broadened the definition of “public use,” but Antaki’s attorneys argue the county’s motive—to operate the airport as a business—stretches this principle.
I believe that there are a few things at play here: Arnone and the Monmouth County Commissioners clearly want their own airport, both to operate it as a business in conjunction with the new Netflix studio, and to fix up the eyesore on Route 34. Government seizure of private property and government overstepping like this angers me like nothing else, but Arnone isn’t completely wrong in his claims about the airport—since Antaki bought it, the facilities haven’t improved and nature has reclaimed most of the Northwest side. Rather than drive on an actual road to get to the T-Hangars on said side, one has to drive across Runway 3/21 and on a decent stretch of taxiway because so many of the access roads have been condemned. Something certainly needs to be done about the airport, but Antaki has made it abundantly clear that he won’t improve conditions unless pressure is applied. Will the airport stay with Antaki? Will the county be successful in its eminent domain case? Will it turn into Section 8 housing, or McMansions like Colts Neck Airport? Or perhaps most likely, will it continue as a jetport for the elite as general aviation becomes exponentially more expensive and inaccessible to the majority?
Learn more about Antaki’s efforts to maintain control of Monmouth Executive Airport here.
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