“Because They Care About People Like Us”: Craig Coughlin’s Journey from South Amboy Shaped New Jersey’s Speaker

A young boy’s 1968 election-night awe became a lifelong compass for Craig Coughlin. Now the New Jersey Assembly Speaker – and the state’s longest-serving in history – reflects on his working-class roots, bipartisan ethos “180 degrees from Washington,” and a mission to end hunger. A student journalist reports on Coughlin’s story and what drives him, from caring for “people like us” to keeping politics about community, not ambition.

Rooted in 1968: A Childhood Lesson in Caring

On a chilly November night in 1968, a 10-year-old Craig Coughlin sat on the living room floor in South Amboy, New Jersey, eyes glued to the black-and-white TV. The nation was on edge as results came in. Coughlin’s parents – a working-class couple – watched anxiously, hoping their candidate would win. When Craig innocently asked why this election mattered so much, one of his parents put a gentle hand on his shoulder and answered, “Because they care about people like us.” In that moment, a seed was planted. For the boy who would grow up to lead the New Jersey General Assembly, that simple explanation – that politics should be about caring for “people like us” – became a guiding beacon.

Nearly six decades later, Speaker Craig J. Coughlin hasn’t forgotten that lesson. Now 67, he sits at the helm of the New Jersey Assembly, the fourth-term occupant of a powerful post he’s held since 2018. Coughlin, dressed in a navy suit but speaking with the plainspoken warmth of the neighborhood kid he once was, recalls that formative scene vividly. “I didn’t fully grasp it then, but my folks were teaching me that government should look out for ordinary people,” he says. Born in nearby Perth Amboy and raised in South Amboy, Coughlin grew up in a blue-collar family where leaders were admired more for compassion than for power. “Politics wasn’t a dirty word in our house – it was how you made things better,” he adds. More than half a century later, that belief still underpins his approach to public service.

Working-Class Roots, Working-Class Values

Coughlin’s working-class roots run deep in Middlesex County, and they’ve shaped his priorities in Trenton. The son of a factory worker and a school secretary, he learned early the value of a dollar. Those lessons echo through the State House in his relentless focus on affordability, education, and hunger relief for New Jersey families. “I never forget where I come from,” he says. “Not everyone grows up with a silver spoon. Government should help folks who work hard and play by the rules.”

Since joining the Assembly in 2010, Coughlin has built a reputation as a champion for working people. Under his leadership, Assembly Democrats have pushed through numerous measures to ease burdens on middle-class families and seniors. Coughlin cites raising New Jersey’s minimum wage, delivering historic property tax relief, and boosting public school funding as prime examples. These accomplishments, he notes, aren’t just policy wins – they’re personal. “My neighbors, my family – we lived those issues,” Coughlin says. “Paychecks that don’t stretch, property taxes that bite, schools that need resources. That’s why I ran for office.”

In our conversation, Coughlin frequently circles back to affordability. It’s practically his mantra. As Speaker, he helped craft budgets that expanded property-tax rebates and other relief for seniors. “We put more money back into people’s pockets than ever before,” he declares, referencing record tax relief in the latest state budget. For him, affordability isn’t an abstract talking point – it’s kitchen-table economics that can decide whether a family stays in New Jersey. He points to recent expansions in prescription drug assistance for seniors and a new Stay NJ property-tax rebate, which he says are starting to “deliver real savings and improved affordability” for those who need it most.

Education is another pillar of Coughlin’s values, informed by his own journey from local public schools to St. John’s University (where he earned his B.A. and J.D. on scholarship). “Education opened doors for me – a kid from Amboy,” he says, “so we’ve got to make sure every child gets that chance.” Under Coughlin’s speakership, state budgets have increased public school funding year after year. He highlights efforts like expanding pre-K and upgrading school infrastructure, noting that such investments pay dividends down the road.

But perhaps no issue is closer to Coughlin’s heart than the fight against hunger. When we turn to food insecurity, his tone grows passionate. He finds it unacceptable that anyone goes hungry in a state as wealthy as New Jersey. Coughlin has become a leading anti-hunger advocate in the Legislature. Under his leadership, the state boosted funding to food banks and expanded free school meal programs. He’s championed laws to broaden food assistance. “Hungry kids can’t learn. Hungry seniors can’t stay healthy. It’s that simple,” Coughlin says.

At a recent community event tied to his annual “Bowl for Hunger” charity bowling tournament – a summer tradition he’s hosted for over a decade – Coughlin distributed checks to local food pantries. The tournament draws everyone from bankers to truck drivers to bowl for a good cause, filling shelves and exemplifying Coughlin’s hands-on style.

Bipartisan by Design: “180 Degrees from Washington”

In an era of partisan bickering in national politics, Coughlin prides himself on an approach that is 180 degrees from Washington. “Trenton is not D.C.,” he says with a chuckle. “Here in New Jersey, we actually get things done together.” Indeed, ask legislators on both sides of the aisle and you’ll hear that Coughlin has nurtured a bipartisan ethos in Trenton that’s increasingly rare. As a Democratic Speaker working with a Democratic governor, he drives a progressive agenda – but he’s also known for a low-key, collaborative style that gives the minority party a voice and respects dissent. “I tell everyone: leave the Washington-style food fights at the door,” Coughlin says. “We’re all New Jerseyans here, so let’s figure it out.”

This philosophy isn’t just rhetoric – Coughlin’s tenure is filled with cross-party cooperation. For instance, in 2022 he teamed up with Republican leader John DiMaio to reform New Jersey’s vote-counting process, which passed with overwhelming bipartisan support. “Common-sense ideas shouldn’t be partisan. So we fixed it, together,” Coughlin says.

Coughlin credits New Jersey’s political culture – and a conscious choice – for his bipartisan style. “I came of age admiring people like Tip O’Neill,” he says, referencing the old House Speaker who could spar by day and share a beer after hours. “That’s my style. You don’t burn bridges in Trenton – you never know when you’ll need to cross ’em.” Differences don’t disappear in Trenton – there are still heated debates – but under Coughlin, the Assembly has largely avoided the paralysis that grips Washington.

Community Connections: From Middlesex to AAPI Voices

Coughlin’s 19th District in Middlesex County exemplifies New Jersey’s diversity – home to large Latino and Asian American communities. He has embraced this diversity as part of his political identity. “Representing a community means celebrating who they are,” he tells me. “I’ve learned so much from attending Diwali festivals in Iselin or Lunar New Year events in Edison. It’s one of the great joys of the job.”

That personal connection has translated into policy. Coughlin enthusiastically backed a 2022 law making New Jersey only the second state to require teaching Asian American and Pacific Islander history in K-12 schools – a move to celebrate AAPI contributions and combat bias. “We wanted to send a message that AAPI stories are American stories,” Coughlin says, noting that children of Asian descent should see themselves reflected in the history books. Those conversations also spurred a unanimous Assembly resolution condemning anti-Asian hate and increased funding for ethnic community outreach. He also supported establishing the New Jersey AAPI Commission, a state panel to advise on policies for the fast-growing AAPI population. “You can’t serve people if you don’t know them,” he says. “So go to the cultural events, try the foods, learn the history. And when a community tells you what they need, carry that with you to Trenton.”

Ask Coughlin about community-driven policy and he’ll point back to basics: meet people where they are. He says his hunger initiative was born from countless visits to local soup kitchens and food banks, listening to volunteers and families about what was needed. “Trenton doesn’t have all the answers. The answers are in our neighborhoods,” he says. To Coughlin, if you take care of people back home, the big policy stuff falls into place. That credo – “people like us” – harks back to 1968 and underscores every chapter of his career.

Keeping Democracy Alive: Civic Engagement and Youth

Coughlin grows animated when discussing civic engagement among young people. He was encouraged by the record youth voter turnout in 2020, but he worries many under-30 citizens still tune out. “Democracy doesn’t work if the next generation disengages,” he says. He acknowledges that political mudslinging and misinformation can turn young voters cynical. “It’s understandable some kids throw up their hands and say ‘forget it,’” Coughlin says. “But we can’t let that happen.”

To help engage them, Coughlin championed a 2024 law allowing 17-year-olds to vote in a primary if they’ll be 18 by Election Day. He also throws out a challenge to high school and college students: “We’re handing you the keys to the car – the state will be yours before you know it. So come get involved now. Vote, volunteer, run for school board even. We need you.”

Coughlin believes schools play a role too. New Jersey recently made civics a required part of the middle school curriculum, a move he applauds. Students, he argues, should learn not just how government works, but how to get involved – how to volunteer on a campaign, advocate for a cause, discern facts from fiction. “When I meet students,” he says, “I tell them, ‘Democracy is not a spectator sport. You’ve got to get on the field.’”

I mention that some of my peers feel their vote doesn’t matter. Coughlin counters with a favorite anecdote: a local council race once came down to a single vote. “One vote!” he exclaims – a reminder that every ballot counts. In his eyes, engaging youth isn’t just altruism – it’s essential for the state’s future. “If we lose the next generation, we lose democracy. I’m not about to let that happen,” he says.

Looking Ahead: More to Do – and No, He’s Not Running for Governor

As our time wraps up, talk turns to the future. Coughlin’s name has surfaced as a potential candidate for higher office – governor included – but he waves off the idea. “I have the best job in the state right now, and I’m not looking for another one,” he says. He plans to run for re-election to the Assembly in 2025 to keep representing the 19th District: “There’s more work to do right where I am,” he says – meaning he wants to finish what he’s started, especially his quest to end hunger. If re-elected, Coughlin aims to make universal school meals permanent statewide, bringing New Jersey closer to eliminating hunger by 2030. He also hopes to continue as Speaker if his colleagues choose him again. “I’m honored my colleagues entrusted me with this role, and if they pick me again, I won’t let them down,” he says.

Coughlin insists he never entered politics to climb a ladder. “For me, it’s always been about serving my community. Titles come and go. You want to be useful – that’s what matters,” he says. He has no interest in higher office. “Governor? Nah,” he adds with a grin. “I’m running to be the Assemblyman for my district – that’s the only campaign I care about.”

As I pack up my notes, I circle back to the quote that began our conversation: “because they care about people like us.” Does Coughlin still think about those words today? He smiles. “All the time,” he replies. “Every time I’m on the Assembly floor, I remember the people back home – folks like my parents and neighbors – and I ask myself, am I doing right by them? Because if not, I shouldn’t be here.” Despite his position at the pinnacle of state power, Coughlin has never strayed far from his roots. At heart, he’s still a neighbor who believes government should care about “people like us.”