![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghQhRJ5lzqCDSVNIdOxhkyDSPZyWCLZPZDRx6rAP7r56Amr1NtzltYU6y05wKdPci19QkYg3pyudvE7zslGBLMlc1YefrTPZYDethLsEIpTLpHgXvawnGmceEYw1FzRLv5McoEsx1JyjQ/s400/unnamed-7.jpg)
Sunset pic by Bobby Williams ...
Updated
Here's the sunset view from Fourth Street by Maya Falmagne ...
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggoDKRUy_CMr0aLga3iKCzraATNK5H1l_-Sx2v9YNEBfc9tfhMFX9E31bBwxA_hAIWgbWMjDmwGEVNoypH_BN3sIhKEFE2WyQu8lLhrtiPJughdmzi1P6pcTnoNQhcfsRWOisERYb_DuU/s400/unnamed.jpg)
Few actors are as recognizable in American movies as Harry Dean Stanton. The singularly mild-mannered face of the New Hollywood, his repertoire expands to dozens of appearances in beloved studio, cult, and independent movies, with only a handful of lead roles to his name.
In a career spanning more than 60 years, Stanton’s inimitable hangdog persona revealed a distinctive capacity for harebrained agitation and laconic, low-key melancholy that prove equally disarming. Stanton has worked with many cinema greats, from Carpenter to Wenders to Lynch. On the occasion of his starring role in Lucky (opening September 29) ... the Quad is proud to present a wide-ranging selection of his most memorable roles.
When I talk with people about the Voice, they often refer to it as an “institution.” But I think of it more as having a constitution. By that, I don’t mean a document containing a statement of essential principles by which the Voice is governed — I mean a constitution in the way that a person has a physical constitution. If you treat it well, then it can flourish; if you don’t, then it withers. Its existence is not inevitable. It needs to be fought for. When I look at what this paper has been for the past (almost) 62 years, I see the names of many people who have done just that for the Voice, and we’ve decided to dedicate this final print issue to them. The Voice may be bigger than print and ink or any owner, editor, medium, or era, but this paper belonged to New York, and the people who have worked for it have served both the Voice and the city in exemplary fashion.
Name: Pepe Flores (who was a little camera shy)
Occupation: Retired, Daycare Teacher
Location: Avenue C and 4th Street
Time: 3:30 pm on Friday, Sept 15
I was born in Puerto Rico in 1951 in public housing near the docks in Old San Juan, but then we moved to the countryside when I was 4 years old. I was raised on the sugar cane plantation.
I went to college at the University of Puerto Rico. I got involved in the left [political movement], and I had to leave because my life was in danger. There is political persecution in Puerto Rico — it’s been going on since 1898, the minute that we were invaded. Puerto Rico is a colony of the United States, so anybody who looks for the independence for Puerto Rico, in a pacific way or in a violent way, is a threat. So I moved to this neighborhood 45 years ago when I was 20 years old.
There was a two-bedroom apartment for $90 on 3rd Street between C and D. In those days, New York was affordable, you know what I mean? There was a big Puerto Rican population when I got here. There was a barrio uptown, one in the Bronx, then one in the Lower East Side. There was a big community, working class. We don’t consider ourselves immigrants because we are American citizens. I have an American passport.
I didn’t plan to live here — it was just that I was working in a bilingual program on 4th Street and all of a sudden I found myself in this community. I met somebody who was part of the adopt-a-building program, to adopt buildings that landlords had abandoned. So I got involved with the organization and I got an apartment in there. From there I moved to 11th Street. That’s where I got involved with the homesteading, with the renovation on the building. And now I’ve been in the same apartment on Avenue C for 35 years.
This is the first place where I saw performance art, the mix between dance, music, video, and all kinds of styles of creativity. One of the famous places for that was out on the corner on 2nd Street and Avenue B where the gas station used to be. The Gas Station was the abandoned gas station. These people took over and that’s where they had their performances.
And then you had the Nuyorican Poets Café that started on 6th Street between A and B and then they moved to 3rd Street. There was another place also that I collaborated with, it was called the Nuyorican Village. It was where the Jazz Boat used to be. The Jazz Boat was a jazz club on Avenue A between 6th and 7th Street, and when it was abandoned this guy Eddie Figueroa took it over. His approach was that, because the term Nuyorican can be a little bit of a put down, he believed that it was the “New Rican,” it was a new kind of Puerto Rican — we were vegetarian, macrobiotic. It was a very vibrant cultural community here.
People tend to treat this area as a drug haven, but it wasn’t like that. There was a working-class community. The people portrayed us as living on welfare, but you know what? In my building, out of 16 units, 14 people were working people, and I don’t know anybody who used to live on welfare. We were all working-class people, and most of the people in this neighborhood, or a lot of people that I know, they used to work in the Garment District, because the Garment District had steady jobs. It was close to the people, and it had pretty good paying jobs – enough to pay rent and live a decent life.
I would associate the decay to the disappearance of the Garment Center as a place for jobs. All these people lost their jobs. All these people that come from Puerto Rico, most of the people were people who came from the countryside. Once we lost jobs, then drugs came in, heavy drugs, heroin, cocaine. Those are hard, and it turned around the neighborhood. And then AIDS — I buried so many people here who died of AIDS, young people, adolescents, children, and they didn’t care.
They knew what was going on over here. They knew. I mean, if you see at 6 in the morning on 5th Street, 80 people lining up, you’re a cop, you say coño. They’re not going to church. They were there to score, at 6 in the morning. [The city] knew the whole thing about the drug trade that was going on here. They didn’t do nothing because that was a way to gentrify the neighborhood. That was a way to get people out of here. It’s a way that the system, the powers that be use to oppressed people. When you’re doing drugs, you don’t care about housing, education. You just care about your habit and that’s it.
And then with the economic depression that turned out, the landlords, they couldn’t collect the rents, and the easy way was to burn the buildings. They would pay somebody to go and burn a building with people in it. The building that I lived in, and all the buildings, we had to have volunteers to be security at night, especially at night because that’s when people came to burn out the buildings. They wanted to get the insurance money.
Besides that, I was a daycare teacher for 30 years of my life. It used to be on First Avenue and 9th Street, where P.S. 122 is. I took care of the children of Philip Glass, Ornette Coleman. After 30 years I left, but I’m still involved in the community. The things that you have to provide for the community are housing, education and health services. I consider myself a community activist. I’ve been involved with the gardens. There is a center on 9th Street between C and D called Loisaida Center, and I’m volunteering with them. My motto is, I’m not a volunteer, I donate my time. That’s another way to look at it.
I’m still here, I have two children even though they’re grown ups now, They’re doing great. I love this neighborhood. I want to give you an example – I used to walk out of the door and before you got to the corner you say, ‘hello’ to 5 or 10 people. It’s the community, the sense of community, the sense of caring about each other. You care about the old, the young, the adolescents. There are parks, youth centers. This is my neighborhood; this is my barrio. I think that concept comes from agrarian societies – that concept of barrio, of community. For some reason, the people who moved here had that spirit of community. The gardens are an example of that. People get together — the old, the young — and plant. There are more gardens between Houston and 14th, from A to D, than in any other neighborhood in New York City – and great, incredible gardens. I don’t play favorites – I love all of them.
We're honored to announce that in early 2018 Astor Place will become home to the world’s largest interactive rhino sculpture that you can photograph, touch and hug.
Created by internationally acclaimed monumental sculptural artists, Gillie and Marc Art, the incredible 16-foot sculpture will depict the world’s last three Northern White Rhinos, Sudan, Najin and Fatu.
The sculptures unveiling at Astor Place will officially launch the “Goodbye Rhinos” project, which aims to collect one million goodbye messages from across the globe, forming a petition to stop the poaching trade and illegal sale of rhino horn, the cause of the Northern White Rhinos imminent extinction.
After the New York City unveiling the sculpture will then visit major cities across the world to raise awareness of the rhinos plight and conservation.
Dr Smood is an organic boutique cafe offering a carefully crafted menu of performance food for mind, body, and soul. We work closely with our partners to produce the highest quality products from sustainable sources, pure water, and nutrient-rich soil.
"I am sad to report that my court ordered last day at Clayworks will be September 30th. However, the exorbitant amount of money judgment levied against me doesn't quite make up for the extra week. Still, it gives me the opportunity to see many of you again and share memories and say goodbye. I look forward to seeing you all before Clayworks closes forever."
It's unclear how recently Leguizamo lived in the place, or whether or not he even still owns it — the deed was transferred to an LLC in 2002, and the listing says that it was "Recently a single family residence; currently used as a 3-family" ...
Steven Croman will get to spend the Jewish holidays at home instead of behind bars.
At a sentencing hearing ... Manhattan State Supreme Court Justice Jill Konviser postponed sentencing for Oct. 3.
Prosecutors in the office of state Attorney General Eric Schneiderman – who dubbed Croman the “Bernie Madoff of landlords” – opposed the motion, but Konviser granted it nonetheless
Attorney General Eric T. Schneiderman today announced the guilty plea of Steven Croman, a major New York City landlord with more than 140 apartment buildings across Manhattan, for fraudulently refinancing loans and committing tax fraud. Under the terms of his plea, Croman would serve one year of jail time on Rikers Island and pay a $5 million tax settlement – marking a significant precedent in the effort to combat landlords who base their business model on the displacement of rent-stabilized tenants.
Rarely, if ever, has a landlord been sentenced to serve time in jail for engaging in these practices. The jail time and multi-million settlement announced today send a strong message to landlords that the Attorney General will pursue anyone who engages in these types of practices to the fullest extent of the law.
“Steven Croman is a fraudster and a criminal who engaged in a deliberate and illegal scheme to fraudulently obtain bank loans,” Attorney General Schneiderman said. “He went to outrageous lengths to boost his bottom line – including falsely listing rent-stabilized units at market rates when his efforts to displace those renters had failed. Now Mr. Croman faces a year in Rikers and a $5 million settlement – and unscrupulous landlords are on notice that we’ll pursue them to the fullest extent of the law.”
A proposal for yet another bar and restaurant at 20 St. Marks Place shows there are an astonishing 32 liquor licenses within 500 feet. And that’s before you count two more pending applications for watering holes, State Liquor Authority records show.
“Stacking bars on top of bars is not a happy thought for me,” said Ian Fair who ran Sounds for many years and still lives in the building. He closed the shop in 2015 after the landlord tripled the rent.
[Residents] further alleged that bringing in Morrissey with a 4am liquor license, and who has a terrible track record with VYNL and The Late Late, would only exacerbate an already saturated area. Indeed, the latter operation is considered one of the worst offenders in the district, and carries a report card of more than thirty 311 complaints. Residents on East 1st Street regularly complain about noise, which first has to travel past a clamorous Houston Street and then through First Park.
Remember, of course, that the original intent of The Late Late was an Irish gathering space that would feature “Irish gourmet food” and small poetry readings. Talk about bait-and-switch. This could be why so many turned up to speak in opposition (i.e. more than a dozen).