@evgrieve Seen at 1st Ave/9th St. Not sure I want to know what's in that concrete. pic.twitter.com/AEX62gJXJy
— Academy Records NYC (@AcademyRecords) June 12, 2014
While it may seem well beyond unfathomable, it took nearly 40 years for the seminal debut from The Ramones to achieve “Gold” status with the Recording Industry Association Of America, indicating it has sold in excess of 500,000 copies
I grew up in the neighborhood. I’m 58. I’m Italian by descent. I’ve seen all the changes. It’s changed for the better, in a sense. For some reason my journey through life has always brought me back, for whatever reason.
When I was growing up, it was a rough neighborhood. I remember in the 1970s and 1980s on 6th Street, you could get a 6-room apartment for like $35 a month, cause it was a bad neighborhood. Drugs were running rampant.
I’ve had a couple of careers in my life. I went to Brooklyn Automotive to become an auto mechanic, but I wound up becoming a boiler mechanic. I did that for 14 years. I actually became a heroin addict. I’m in recovery now. I’ve been 18 years clean. I have total, absolute sobriety, but I lost that job and was running the streets with the drugs, selling — and eventually I did time.
I came home, got into the plumber’s union, became a plumber. I wasn’t one to rob so I had to support my habit one way or another. That or be sick. You do what you gotta do. It’s a crazy lifestyle. It builds character in the negative sense, but the things that have happened to me in my life, that’s what made me into the man I am today. It’s funny how God gives you a hand and you have to play it out. I’ve been blessed that I woke up and found sobriety.
Avenue B, right over there where there’s a condo, there used to be a gas station. I remember standing out there in the winter one time with the 55-gallon drums, with wood and whatever you could burn because it was like 10 degrees outside and we were out there at night trying to keep warm. There were none of these outside restaurants. Art galleries were unheard of.
It’s a beautiful neighborhood. It was always a nice melting pot of people. It was just that early on, when I was younger, the drugs were running rampant. It was always there when I was a kid growing up, but then it got worse over the years. It got to the point where places like Avenue B, Norfolk Street, were drug markets. Drug dealers were all over the corner. If you wanted heroin, the Lower East Side was the place to be. This was the mecca.
I guess they say it’s when you hit your bottom. I was thrown in the back of a police van once again, looking at another B felony for sale and I reflected back on my life. I knew then and there that was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. I remember, I made bail and I told myself I was going to get help, and I did at a place on 6th Street. I went to a place called Su Casa, right over there. It’s a treatment facility. Actually, I’m a counselor there now. So you remember me saying at the beginning that for some reason I keep coming back after things happen.
I was actually paralyzed from the chest down. I’m walking with this cane because my legs are weakened from the paralysis, so I couldn’t do the plumbing work that I was used to. I was in a wheelchair for a month. That’s a whole interesting story in itself. They gave me steroids cause a virus attacked my spinal cord and kind of cut everything off. Physically I’ve been the same for awhile. I accept it for what it is. I’m walking. I had to learn how to walk and I had to learn how to live in chronic pain.
After I accepted dealing with the pain and that I wasn’t going to get any better I went to college. I got an associate's degree in drafting and design in 2008 at City Tech. It took me three years to get a two-year degree but I proved to myself that I could do it.
In 2008, the economy was really bad. I wasn’t getting any work so I decided to go to Metropolitan College down on Canal Street to get my CASAP — Control, Alcohol, and Substance Abuse Counselor. I knew I could get a job doing that, and I had affiliate with Su Casa, being an alumni. It’s where I got clean. I lived there for two years. They saved my life. I mean, I had to do the work of course, because if I wasn’t open and willing and if I didn’t have the desire to get clean… You have to want to. And it’s been fulfilling.
I guess my life has kind of come full circle and now I’m a counselor in the rehab. Su Casa is a treatment facility — a 12- to 18-month residential program. My house, your house. It’s an extremely good program, with people from all walks of life and from different states.
Again, I’m a product of it. It’s behavior modification. Addiction is basically a disease, so hit it kind of hardcore there, with consequences for negative actions. If you make a bad decision you have to pay the consequence. The only difference is that in there you may get like a contract called LE, which is a learning experience where you clean or work all day. But in there it’s just a contract, whereas out on the streets that negative behavior can catch you a bullet. There’s really nothing in there that could hurt you.
It’s tough for the young kids coming in today. There is [a resurgence], especially with the young kids with the Xanax and then the Oxycontin. Some people get into car accidents and then they become addicted to Oxycontin, but Oxycontin is expensive so they go to the heroin and the methadone. I’m just happy I got clean when I did because I could see myself doing the same thing, as far as the Benzo. That’s a hell of a thing.
There’s always hope. There are a lot of people that may want to get help. A lot of people know we’re over there, but for those who don’t and are seeking help, I would recommend it.
Hayne could be described as a wild woman. Those who knew her loved her indiscretions. She wanted to have fun and she did. You can’t define her simply. An old friend told me yesterday that “she lived life” and that is true. It must be remembered that she was a trusted friend.
She was as sharp as they come. Her legal background was always made available to those around her who were less savvy. Despite being racked with cancer, she wanted to make sure that the recently released Michael Alig had every opportunity to right himself. She was fun. She had a twinkle in her that wouldn’t go away no matter how serious things got.
"In a city where everyone is always going somewhere, you’ll already be there."
From his window on East Ninth Street he could see the Church of St. Brigid (which he called St. Bridget’s) across Tompkins Square Park on Avenue B at East Eighth Street, and mentioned it in several poems. Here’s part of “Early on Sunday,” 1961:
…how sad the lower East Side is on Sunday morning in May
eating yellow eggs
eating St. Bridget’s benediction
washing the world down with rye and Coca-Cola and the news
Joe stumbles home
pots and pans crash to the floor
everyone’s happy again
Mid-afternoon, Roman Diakun, proprietor of the East Village's Stage Restaurant (128 Second Avenue, 212-473-8614), walks down from his apartment above to check in on his customers and items being prepped for dinner. Raised in Poland via Ukraine, Roman has owned the restaurant since 1980, and over the decades, he has seen the East Village become home to David Schwimmer's townhouse, green juice bars, and Momofuku. This city is still full of diners, and Stage remains one of the greatest.
Wooden siding and framed reviews from the early 1990's cover the walls at the Stage, and there's no bathroom here. There are also no tables, just one long, Formica-topped counter running the length of the narrow restaurant where first timers mingle with locals, Eastern Europeans, old-school East Village-beatniks, and hipster urban professionals. No one gets special treatment here. As a friend said, it's like a clubhouse with an open admission policy — all you need to do is walk in.
The most obvious reason for all the banks in the Big Apple? New York is where the money is. Gobs and gobs of money. According the latest FDIC report, bank branches in the five boroughs hold a collective $850 billion in cash — that's 21% of the nation's deposits.
Of course, a lot of that cash is corporate savings stashed in commercial banks. But even when it comes to consumer cash, New York is hot. The typical retail bank branch holds just $35 million in deposits, which is roughly the break-even point. TD's typical NYC branch, meanwhile, holds $125 million. That pretty much explains why it can outspend the city's mom-and-pop shops when it comes to paying rent.
[C]ompared to the rest of the nation, New Yorkers are obsessed with branch convenience. While folks in other towns value frivolities like friendly service, New Yorkers more often rank convenient ATMs and branches a top priority. They want locations near their homes, their offices and the offices of their spouses, says Mr. Giamo. They want to see their bank everywhere they go.