
Earlier this evening… where the assembled were watching "Spider-Man" (unsure it it was the Maguire or Garfield version). The laptop is propped on a trash can, and one moviegoer is sitting on the trash can lid.
Photo by Zak Zavada
One man in the gaggle looked more convincing than the others. He was wearing a jacket with a logo for the eighties hardcore band Sheer Terror, and a backward black baseball cap. He had neck and face tattoos, including one that read “Queens” in elaborate script, and two teardrop tattoos under one eye. He identified himself as Danny Diablo, a hardcore musician and native New Yorker who lived near the park at the time of the riots.
“No way,” he said, when asked if he took part in the original riots. “I was a hardcore kid. I didn’t care about politics. My friends are drinking at a bar by here. I hope they don’t come and give me a hard time for doing this.” Asked what the sign he carried said, he appeared embarrassed. It compared Mayor Ed Koch to Hitler. “I actually love Ed Koch,” he said. Next to Diablo, a longhaired man wearing a heavy black leather jacket with fringe chimed in, “Why am I in this jacket? Isn’t it supposed to be August?” He shrugged. He’d answered a casting call. He was just going to go with it.
Name: Yehuda Emmanuel Safran
Occupation: Professor of Architecture at Columbia University
Location: 7th Street and Avenue B
Date: Thursday, May 15 at 4 p.m.
I was born in Palestine, but I’m officially French. I became French in 1989. I lived 20 years in London, a few years in Paris, and 18 years in New York, in Manhattan. I lived in the West Village, up in Columbia housing, and then seven years ago a colleague who was living on the corner of 7th and C invited me to stay for a month. That convinced me. The next thing I did, I found myself a place.
I’m a professor of architecture in Columbia’s School of Architecture. I also have a magazine called Potlatch. You know what potlatch means? It’s a word used by Indians from the northwest, near Seattle, to describe a very ancient ritual of giving presents. One tribe would give a great deal of presents to another tribe. My magazine is dedicated to the gift of art and architecture.
Seven years ago I established Alphabet City as a site for my project at Columbia. The project invites the students to write the program for some type of contribution to Alphabet City. There’s one library here ... there’s only one Turkish bath. There are no sports clubs. So we have been working for the last seven years, every autumn, doing different projects. We meet at Esperanto at the corner of 9th Street and Avenue C every Sunday evening at 8:30. The students decide. It’s difficult to say what the most interesting project was, because there are so many, from a boxing arena, to a kind of new type of housing, improving on the large housing down there on Avenue D, or a project to establish a swimming pool in the Park.
The East Village attracted me because it’s the least kind of consumer-oriented part of Manhattan and there are a lot of young people here and a lot of different people here. There’s a mixture. It’s more lively and more interesting, in my experience at least.
There are too many [new apartment buildings] and they are too ugly. I think the main problem is the ugliness and the inappropriate development. It’s troubling. Not enough attention is paid to the quality of the designs. It’s driven by real-estate consideration. Ultimately we cannot ignore it, but when it becomes a dominant feature, it doesn’t add anything to the quality of life here.
The problem here of course is the rent went up dramatically over these years. Landlords are very greedy and when they sniff out a chance to make more they jump at it. On the other hand, in 2008, the crisis was a good thing for Alphabet City and the East Village because until then there was a real threat of development, especially from NYU and private development. They were moving in very fast. The local people got threatened by it. They thought that the rent would become out of their reach, and they were right, except the economic crisis stopped this rush of development, which meant that I could even go to my landlady and negotiate the rent down. It came down for a couple of years, but then they picked up.
I think cheap housing is very important. It’s vital. That is a very lively problem in Alphabet City and the East Village in general, because there is a high average of low-income people. I think that is something to cultivate and not to stamp it out.
The East Village has a lot of the general kind of poverty, but poverty all the same. I feel more comfortable among poor people than among well-off people. I know many artists, writers, and so on. I live here because I’m attracted to the kind of ordinariness. This kind of ordinariness and low-key nature is very attractive to me.
There was a great man in France in the 19th century named Proudhon. He was a difficult man, so not completely great, and he wrote the book "The Philosophy of Poverty." Marx was so unkind that he immediately published a book called "The Poverty of Philosophy."
"The Philosophy of Poverty" was interesting because it argued in favor of being poor, in the sense that there’s nothing wrong with being poor. It’s just, society has to allow the poor to be poor, and not to make their lives unnecessarily difficult.
One of the worst things about our society is that it wants to punish you for being poor. It’s easy to understand why, because capitalism thrives on the relentless effort to become richer and richer, because being rich according to this kind of world ethic means that the gods are in your favor. So people are striving so hard that they neglect their life to the extent that they really make the lives of poor people unnecessarily worse, when in fact there are many virtues to being poor. A society that punishes people for being poor is much poorer for it. So that is what I have to say.
Rent for the units will range from $3,500 for a studio to $6,000 for a one-bedroom to as much as $10,000 for a two-bedroom, the spokesperson said. Some of the one- and two-bedroom apartments feature a private outdoor space.
Description: Rare opportunity to lease legal commercial loft-like ground floor and second floor in pre-war building. Floors can be connected by tenant via internal stairway. Available for rent separately. High visibility on busy avenue block, in a great residential neighborhood. Space is currently raw and vacant. Approx. 11 ft. high ceilings, great light; basement space of approximately 650 sf. Building undergoing gut renovations.
Hello from the Cadillac with the Tiger in It (Part 1 — Spring has sprung on East 2nd Street)
The magnolia tree in the cemetery bloomed a couple of weeks ago. I wasn't sure if I'd be around to see it — never thought this winter would end.
Each winter the block usually loses a resident. 1993-94 was the last bad winter before this one. (At least what I can remember — I was buried in ice and snow for most of it). That winter we lost Alex S., the old Polish guy who smoked a cigar on the stoop with his coffee and New York Post each morning.
Alex moved into 67 East 2nd St. during the Great Depression when it was a flophouse and he didn't pay any rent (I've often wondered what math the landlords used to raise zero rent by a percentage each year?). Whenever some young punk was having a party on his floor, Alex would stand at the top of the stairs with a crowbar telling the late arrivals to "go home, the party's over."
When spring finally came in '94, Alex was missing from the stoop. His friend Max was telling patrons at the First Avenue Laundromat that he heard that Alex had won the lottery and moved to Florida.
Max was a funny guy. He looked like a 4 & 1/2 foot tall Vladimir Lenin and always wore a Choo Choo Charlie hat and a long military trench coat. He supported himself by refurbishing old cameras and selling them at flea markets. In 20 years I barely heard him speak. He mostly grunted. Whereas Alex only went to the hospital when he lost 60 pounds at age 78 and they discovered he was diabetic, Max would often go to Beth Israel for numerous maladies only to come back later the same day saying no one wanted to treat him.
Max's story about Alex's Florida move sounded a bit ominous to me.
Sure enough, when the weather finally warmed up a carrion smell emanating from Alex' apartment brought the police. In Apt. 12 & 1/2 (It was actually apartment 13 but Alex was superstitious and formed the new numbers with strips of masking tape on his door) they found him.
Alex had been dead about 2-3 months. His body was kept frozen most of that time as he had slightly opened the window next to his bed. What remained of him lay there in his bed surrounded by hundreds of miniature plastic toy soldiers; cowboys and Indians; and odd prizes he had saved from breakfast cereal boxes.
On the back of his bedroom closet door was a 1950's photo of Alex and 3 men out fishing in a boat on a lake. Scrawled underneath the other 3 faces were the dates and years each had passed away before him.
Max had a similar fate befall him a couple of winters later, although he had been dead slightly less than a month when they found him.
Then there was Peter who used to feed the squirrels of the cemetery at dawn each morning. He'd make some weird chirping sound and several of them would crawl up his arms and jump onto his head. (Gross! I call them "rats with bushy tails" — at least they don't shit on me like the pigeons do.)
One winter Peter was found naked on his bathroom floor with a pen near his hand and a makeshift will scrawled on the lower portion of his bathroom door bequeathing the $60,000 cash stashed in his apartment to a lady on East 3rd Street who fed the pigeons and squirrels with him. (...don't know if she ever got any of that money?)
After those deaths a putrid smell seeped from their apartments for weeks. This was made worse by the brilliant super of the building's misguided notion that sprinkling powdered laundry detergent outside each apartment's door would neutralize the bad smell. To this day, the smell of laundry detergent nauseates me because in my mind I mix in the scent of decaying flesh.
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But I'm back, this old "war wagon" didn't succumb. Made it through this winter. Just barely — my battery went dead on some of the coldest days.
And I survived a scare this recent Easter weekend....
Between midnight and 1 a.m. Easter morning someone called the city on me and said I was leaking gasoline. Four fire trucks, three police cars and a dozen cops surrounded me for awhile and then left when they couldn't figure out what to issue me a citation for. Nice. Where are they when the weekend kids are puking on the sidewalks and pissing next to my wheels?
And who turned me in? Sure, I leak a little brake fluid and oil and maybe even gasoline on occasion. I'm a senior citizen for Christ's sake! What do they want me to wear, a metal diaper? I still have my pride, you know!
Was it the guy who bought the refurbished apartment for $5 million toward the end of the block? Or someo eco-friendly nut worried about my carbon footprint on the environment — that ship's sailed already, pal!
Yeah, I'm still here. But not for much longer. Soon the sweet scent of the black locust trees flowering in the cemetery will permeate the air. I'll wait around till then. Then I'm going to go. But I'm going on my own terms...
Our @Indiegogo closed last night. Thanks for helping us raise $51,740 toward our move! http://t.co/7Wour7EH3C
— St. Mark's Bookshop (@stmarksbookshop) May 17, 2014
The Union Square Partnership is again partnering with AT&T, Pensa and Goal Zero to bring back the popular solar-paneled cell phone charging stations. This year, they will have 3 charging stations in the seating areas. The first station will be located in the West Side Seating Area within Union Square Park, the second in the Pedestrian Plaza on Broadway and 17th Street, and the third charging station will be located at the James Fountain area (“Mother and Child” Statue).
The program grew out of Superstorm Sandy when New Yorkers who had lost power for days flocked to city centers to recharge electronic devices.