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Adopting the pen name Coca Crystal, she wrote about politics, women’s issues and random personal events: a burglary at her apartment that she foiled by serenading her intruder on the guitar; the myriad obscene phone calls that she fielded at the office. The newspaper honored her, in one issue, with her photograph over the title “slumgoddess.”
“She was the epitome of the flower child,” said Lynda Crawford, a colleague at The East Village Other. “She was sexy, she was young, she was very smart — she was cool.”
In 1977 she reserved a one-hour slot each Wednesday night at 10:30 on Channel D to present “If I Can’t Dance, You Can Keep Your Revolution,” a mix of politics, culture, music, audience call-ins and spontaneous nonsense. She often described the show as a visual version of The East Village Other.
Ms. Crystal, who in addition to her sister is survived by her son, Gustav Che Finkelstein, had an unflappable, slightly spacey demeanor and an incongruous la-di-da accent that added an extra layer of ineffability to an already bizarre persona.
She often describes her life as unconventional. “I don’t have a normal sleep schedule, I have a bizarre child, my dog is limping, my cat is in love with the dog. It’s just a little bit off the beaten track here,” she said.
But then again, Ms. Crystal never cared much for the ordinary. “When I’m in the hospital and wondering where I’d rather be, I’m thinking I’d rather be sitting with Gus watching ‘Tom and Jerry.’ That’s the best I can think of.”