The Paper of Record for East and West Villages, Lower East Side, Soho, Noho, Little Italy and Chinatown
October 15, 2015 • FREE Volume 5 • Number 17
E. Fifth St. tenants are still trying to figure out; Who is the real ‘Raffi’? BY TINA BENITEZ-EVES
M
en dressed in black, late-night phone calls, a knock at the door with no advance notice, photo requests and chocolate — some East Village tenants don’t know what to think about their new landlord.
Raphael (“Raffi”) Toledano, who purchased 16 properties in the East Village this September from the Tabak/ Garfinkel family for $97 million, hasn’t made the best of impressions this year, according to some tenants, who have met their new landlord or his associates. TOLEDANO continued on p. 8
BY YANNIC RACK
W
hen Yvonne Collery returned to her apartment for the first time after the explosion and fire that devastated her block in the East Village in late March, she didn’t immediately grasp how bad the damage really was.
“At first I thought it was just the plaster hanging down,” she said of the ceiling in her home of 30 years, which had collapsed almost entirely. “It wasn’t until I tapped it. I said, ‘Holy crap, that’s the walls from the apartment [above] sticking through, SECOND AVE. continued on p. 14
PHOTO BY BOB KRASNER
On Second Ave., trying to rebuild apartments, and lives, is taking time
Julie Atlas Muz and Mat Fraser in their Lower East Side apartment, which is in a bit of disarray due to a renovation.
For L.E.S. ‘sideshow couple,’ sky’s the limit for creativity BY BOB KRASNER
M
arried performers Mat Fraser and Julie Atlas Muz have succeeded in upending any notion of a traditional husband and wife and may even manage to beat the odds that are firmly against couples who work together. From their meeting in 2006 at the Coney Island Freak Show to their wedding, which included 30 “zombie schoolgirl” bridesmaids, they have created their own world
— one where tradition walks hand in hand with outrageousness. Fraser was born with drastically shortened arms as a result of his mother’s thalidomide intake, but he also possessed an ability to turn a disability into an asset. The British performer’s willingness to put himself out there resulted in a gig as “Seal Boy” at the Brooklyn beach sideshow, where his path crossed with Muz, a modern burlesque performer who has no problem showing off
her assets. Although they began to collaborate together in performance, their initial attraction had to be put on a back burner while they “extricated” themselves from their respective spouses. In 2012 they finally tied the knot, with Fraser clad in full Tartan dress to represent his clan and Muz outfitted like a sexy Disney princess, surrounded by the previously mentioned zombies. COUPLE continued on p. 6
WWW.EASTVILLAGERNEWS.COM Comic Con knocks ’em out!..........page 3 | May 14, 2014
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RETURN TO ‘DILLER ISLAND’: A community meeting about the planned Pier55 project in Hudson River Park will be held Mon., Oct. 19, at 6:30 p.m., at the Clinton School for Artists and Writers gym, 10 E. 15th St. The meeting, which is open to the public, is being hosted by Pier55, Inc., the nonprofit group that plans to oversee programming for the new pier. According to the organizers: “The community meeting will be a roundtable discussion with folks from the Pier55 team, focusing on the future of local arts and educational programming at the new park. Community attendees will have the opportunity to share their ideas for the kinds of local arts, educational and community programming they would like to see at Pier55.” BURGER: DON’T GRILL ME! West Village writ-
er Otis Kidwell Burger called to say she was recently rubbed the wrong way when a caller from Mrs. Green’s, the new Hudson St. natural market, rang her up and peppered her with personal questions. Despite her irritation, Burger stayed on the line out of curiosity. “It was some survey,” she said. “They wanted to know how old I was, my marital status, income, all sorts of private matter, all these things about me. We need to find out more about them!” Burger retorted. “The place was boarded up for a year while they settled their union problems. If they’re going to be calling around about us, I think we should know more about them.” In a statement, Mrs. Green’s Pat Brown, C.E.O. of Natural Markets Food Group, said: “Mrs. Green’s is proud to have opened its first New York City store in the West Village. While the response has been incredibly positive — with customers enjoying our sustainable seafood, humanely raised meat and farmfresh, organic produce — we always want to learn more about what residents want from their local grocery store. This community outreach gives the West Village another opportunity to share their ideas and help us serve them better.” The store also sent residents a coupon / mailer when it opened. As for the union issue, Brown responded: “Our associates are part of our Mrs. Green’s family, and I’m extremely proud of how we care for them — providing industry-leading wages and benefits.” A spokesperson added, “The union has withdrawn or settled all complaints. There are currently no issues pending at any Mrs. Green’s stores.”
STUY TOWN SQUATTERS? Following last week’s Villager article on the city’s plan to have Donald Capoccia’s BFC Partners renovate two former East Village squats as affordable housing, we got a concerned phone call from a P.R. rep for Stuyvesant Town, saying they had subsequently received calls from other media inquiring about this, but that they don’t know anything about squatters being offered temporary housing for two years in the complex at a steeply discounted rent. A former squatter had told us that they were being given that option, and a representative of the Department of Housing Preservation and Development did not contradict that when we inquired about it for last week’s article. Told of the P.R. rep’s call, the H.P.D. spokesperson this week told us, “Our understanding from the developer is that Stuy Town was an option, but we aren’t sure if any of the residents chose to take that option and are actually going there.” She told us she would “check and see if anyone knows why their P.R. folks would be disputing that,” but as of press time, we hadn’t heard anything back. Meanwhile, we had heard the residents of the two former squats — 544 E. 13th St. and 377 E. 10th St. — have been dispersing all over in search of somewhere affordable to hunker down for the next two years, from Brooklyn to Boston and Philadelphia. After the renovation, they can return and buy their spiffed-up units for $2,500. But Janet Nash, a resident at No. 544, called us in dismay, saying that she spent a decade of hard work, and her own money, fixing up her apartment. So the article was unfair, she said, to state that the tenants — including Isabel Celeste Dawson, the mom of famous actress Rosario Dawson, who will be starring in
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the upcoming “Clerks III” and the TV series “Luke Cage” — have made scant progress in bringing the buildings up to city code. All that work of hers is now going to go down the drain, she lamented.
STUDENTS STRUT THEIR STUFF: The models at the recent Givenchy fashion show at Pier 26 in Hudson River Park have nothing on the kids at P.S. 110! The parking garage next to the Florence Nightingale School, at 285 Delancey St., was used for the Fall Fashion Week event’s star-studded after-party. The school is miffed that the fashionistas didn’t think to cough up some cash for them. “Rumor has it the fashion label paid a lot of money to rent out the space,” said a release from the P.T.A. and its president, Kathleen Keene. “If they could pay a lot of money to empty a parking lot and close our sidewalk for three days to create a ‘favela’ atmosphere for their celebrity clientele, then maybe they could make a healthy donation to the public school next door to support art enrichment.” The P.T.A. has sent letters and a donation packet to the appropriate people. But in the meantime they had another idea: “Why not shoot a video showcasing the talented students and thanking Givenchy for the donation they are going to make!” In short, on Tuesday afternoon, the kids shared their personality on camera in a “faux fashion show” to the song “Power of Love,” by Deee-Lite — which was the after-party’s theme. The kids were styled by the “Law & Order” wardrobe department. Keene tells us the final cut of the video should be ready by Monday, and that she’s rustling up some photos taken by the “stage moms and dads” that were there. THERE GOES THE ’HOOD: A panel discussion on gentrification, “This Land Is Not For Sale: Forgotten, Past and Foreseeable Futures,” will be held at Jonathan Levine Gallery, 557C W. 23rd St., on Tues., Oct. 20, starting at 6:30 p.m. Writer Alan Kaufman will moderate the panel, which will include L.E.S. documentarian Clayton Patterson, artist Brett Amory, Jose “Cochise” Quiles — the former leader of the notorious Satan’s Sinner Nomads gang — and Lincoln Anderson, The Villager ’s editor in chief. The panel discussion ties in with Oakland-based Amory’s art show, which will be his third at the gallery. Amory’s landscape painting style has been likened to Edward Hopper. The show’s opening reception is Thurs., Oct. 15, from 6 p.m. to 8 p.m.
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Wham! Bam! Comic Con really knocks ’em out! Thousands of fans of comics, graphic novels, anime, manga, movies and video games swooped into the Javits Center on Oct. 8-11 for New York Comic Con. The event was first held in New York in 2006, and last year attendance topped 150,000, making it North America’s largest Comic Con. This year, actors Jared Leto and Mark Ruffalo got in on the fun by hitting the convention floor in costume and avoiding recognition. Leto went as an especially twisted version of Rafiki from “The Lion King,” while Ruffalo was disguised as a mustachioed man in a floppy driver’s cap and chomping a big stogie.
PHOTOS BY MILO HESS
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a Plaza Cultural was a sea of purple on Sat., Sept. 26, as more than 150 people gathered for a memorial to legendary gardener Adam Purple. Chalked on the asphalt pavement in the garden’s center was a pinkish-purple drawing of Purple’s own magnificent Garden of Eden, with its concentric circles of plantings and double yin yang symbol at the center. Purple died at age 84 on Sept. 14 while biking over the Williamsburg Bridge. He may have been returning from shopping for natural food in the East Village, heading back to the Time’s Up space in South Williamsburg, where he had lived with the bicycling / environmental group for the last three years. The cause of death was an apparent heart attack. Speakers at La Plaza praised him as a visionary environmental pioneer, while at the same time fondly recalling him as famously quirky hippie who stubbornly stuck to his ideals. At its peak, his lush garden, at Forsyth, Stanton and Eldridge Sts., grew to 15,000 square feet. He and his wife, Eve, fertilized it with horse manure collected in Central Park — and also their own excrement, which Purple called “night soil.” He and his family ate the food grown in the garden and shared it freely with neighbors. But in 1986, in a devastating blow to Purple, the city bulldozed the garden to make way for a low-rise public housing development. Purple was apparently estranged from his family, none of whom were at the memorial. There also did not appear to be any of his former Purple People present — devotees of his who used to wear purple nonleather clothes and were vegetarian, like him. One of the speakers, Quent Kelleher, was an 11-year-old kid on the Upper West Side when he met Purple in Central Park and wound up helping “move bricks” in the ever-growing Garden of Eden. Kelleher said he was the only friend present at Purple’s “green burial” at a special environmental cemetery in Upstate Ithaca. Kelleher later showed The Villager a photo on his phone of Purple’s body about to be lowered into the ground — he was wrapped in a white shroud and tied with rope to a plywood board. On his chest were a clutch of purple, white and yellow flowers. There was a brief, upbeat ceremony with the cemetery workers. “There were no prayers,” he said. “We said poems. He was an atheist. … We laughed and giggled.” “He was not practical,” Howard Brandstein, executive director of the E. Sixth St. Community Center, said of Purple. “He was a messiah. The Garden of Eden had to die for other gardens to live.” In other words, the high-profile battle
PHOTOS BY LINCOLN ANDERSON
ALBERT AMATEAU IRA BLUTREICH SARAH FERGUSON TEQUILA MINSKY CLAYTON PATTERSON JEFFERSON SIEGEL ZACH WILLIAMS SHARON WOOLUMS
BY LINCOLN ANDERSON
Carmine D’Intino sang Phil Ochs’s “When I’m Gone” in Adam Purple’s honor. In the song’s refrain, the singer actually says he or she better take action “while I’m here,” since, when you’re gone — you can’t change anything.
An image of the Lower East Side’s Garden of Eden was chalked on the ground at La Plaza Cultural.
to save Purple’s garden raised awareness of the Lower East Side’s other gardens and the need to defend them. Purple lived in an abandoned tenement on Forsyth St., but he never allowed it to become a community like the neighborhood’s squats. “A few guys tried to live with him,” Brandstein recalled, noting it didn’t work out. “He said they were vegetarians — but they wouldn’t s--- in the garden,” he said to laughter. “He set a high bar.” Listening in the crowd, Frank Morales, a former leader of the squatter movement, knowingly remarked to those within earshot, “He didn’t want anyone else in the building.” Summing up his thoughts of Purple back when he met him in 1978, Brandstein said, “This guy’s incredible, but he’s kind of nuts — but he is a kind of messiah.” Another speaker, Jacques, recalled how he came upon the stricken Purple on the bridge and got the word out. “I was going up the bridge, where I encountered a lot of people trying to resuscitate someone,” he said. “I suddenly realized it was Adam Purple. I was told that about 15 minutes before there were two people giving him CPR trying to save him.” He called his friend Bill Di Paola, exPURPLE PRAISE continued on p. 26 EastVillagerNews.com
A.J. Richard
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For L.E.S. ‘sideshow couple,’ sky’s the limit COUPLE continued from p. 1
Fraser describes himself as “a multidisciplinary performing artist and writer, whose work talks about the disabled experience.” Muz, originally from Detroit, is somewhat more succinct, summing herself up in one word — “showgirl.” Fraser objects, reminding her that she is also a “performer, director, choreographer, actor and so much more.” Muz concedes that she is also a “feminist artist” and a “boob clown.” “But I really think,” she adds, “that ‘showgirl’ encapsulates all of it. If you are a showgirl, you know what you have to do.” Together, their restless creativity — each of them spends their downtime writing for various projects — has resulted in two major collaborations. “Beauty and The Beast,” their extremely well-reviewed X-rated version of the classic tale, has been performed by the pair around the world, as far away as Croatia and Australia. Another original stage work, “The Freak and The Showgirl” (which they describe as “a lewd, crazy, over-thetop show”), will, if Fraser has his way, become a movie.
Living together in a modest apartment on the Lower East Side and working side by side has forced the pair to adopt strategies that allow them to be productive and not drive each other crazy. They have adopted the methodology of “Open Space Technology,” which allows them both the freedom and the restraint necessary to get things done. Then there are times when they will set a timer for an hour and not speak to each other during that period, while they take the time to write. During those moments, Fraser is currently using the times to create a screenplay while Muz is adapting a favorite novella into a musical. Finally, whenever necessary, one of them can ring the “a--hole bell,” when one feels that the other is being, you know what. “Every couple,” Muz states, “should have an a--hole bell.” When one of the two is involved with an extensive project, as Fraser was with “American Horror Story,” the other steps in to provide backup. Now that Muz is in rehearsal for her co-starring role with Joey Arias in the latest Basil Twist extravaganza “Sisters’ Follies,” Fraser is content to be a “house husband,” taking care of the
two cats and making sure that Muz has dinner when she comes home. Their many projects have earned them almost as many accolades. Muz holds the title of Miss Exotic World 2006, and the couple were honored as king and queen of this year’s Coney Island Mermaid Parade. Fraser’s star turn as “Paul the Illustrated Seal” in the last season of “American Horror Story” has made him the most recognizable of the pair, and they have found a way to deal with that as well. “Everyone wants a photo with that guy with the flippers,” Fraser notes. “I’ll take the picture as soon as possible,” chimes in Muz. “And every time Mat gets recognized, I get a kiss.” Their next collaboration will be this year’s Halloween costumes and it’s Fraser’s turn to choose, since last year Muz came up with their bedbug outfits. Whatever the next big show they produce together will be, you can be sure it will push the boundaries of theater. Muz, who The New York Times said, “isn’t beholden to any of [theater’s] rules —even those observed in the form’s most experimental crannies,” is already thinking about the next project. Fraser, who is “proud of having played in a freak show,” has also cu-
rated “Cripfest,” a celebration of disabled performers, mixing standup comedy, music and burlesque. Muz was the only nondisabled performer in the show, which recently was staged at BAM Fisher. It ended with the two doing a striptease in a rousing finale, featuring an incredibly acrobatic effort by Muz: She did a split while doing a headstand in front of a machine-gun-wielding Fraser, who gave a salute à la G.I. Joe — and also gave Muz an...ahem...special salute. Fraser is also a black belt and the drummer in a band, The Spazms. In fact, there is no reason to believe that the pair will not accomplish whatever they set their minds to. Fraser sums up the main thing that drives their engine: “I must have my head in the clouds, because I believe that anything is possible.” Tickets are available now for Basil Twist’s “Sisters’ Follies: Between Two Worlds.” For more information, visit: http://www.abronsartscenter.org/ performances/basil-twist-sisters-follies.html . As for Fraser and The Spazms, they’re looking to gig around town sometime before the end of the year. A taste of their music can be sampled at: soundcloud.com/mat-fraser .
PHOTOS BY BOB KRASNER
Julie Atlas Muz, in her overflowing closet in her Lower East Side apartment. Muz is starring this month in Basil Twist’s “Sisters’ Follies: Between Two Worlds,” at the Abrons Arts Center, on Grand St.
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Mat Fraser, who in July curated “Cripfest” at BAM Fisher. His band The Spazms will be playing around town.
EastVillagerNews.com
EastVillagerNews.com
October 15, 2015
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Tenants are still trying to figure out Toledano TOLEDANO continued from p. 1
These allegedly odd interactions left some feeling threatened or harassed. In May, tenants at one Toledano property, 444 E. 13th St., sued the landlord for alleged ongoing harassment and threats and for not providing heat and hot water for more than a month, plus for the building’s having more than 200 open violations, including vermin and bedbug infestations, cracks in the infrastructure and more. (The number of violations has dropped since June.) Toledano’s own family members are not immune to the bad behavior. In August, his uncle Aaron Jungreis took him to court, claiming he was cheated out of a 50 percent share of a nearly $100 million deal to take over the East Village properties. Toledano, 25, who became president of Brookhill Properties in January, closed on the deal early last month. Now, tenants along E. Fifth St., in buildings Nos. 223, 229, 231, 233 and 235 have been documenting their own interactions with “Raffi.” To date, tenants in six of Toledano’s E. Fifth St. buildings have documented more than 140 interactions, altercations and outright threats by Toledano and his camp during the two-month period from this July 8 through Sept. 8. Some have reported being followed in the street by Raffi’s cousin Isaac Toledano, while others report encounters with a group of men dressed in black stepping out of SUV’s and insisting on entering and inspecting tenants’ apartments. Other properties involved in the sale include 323-325 E. 12th St., 327 E. 12th St., 329 E. 12th St., 510 E. 12th St., 514 E. 12th St., 53 E. 10th St., 334 E. Ninth St., 27 St. Mark’s Place, 95 E. Seventh St., 66 E. Seventh St. and 228 E. Sixth St. Toledano might be fixated on pushing rent-stabilized tenants out of his East Village buildings, or perhaps he just has a strange way of introducing himself. “I think he’s just trying to make his first sweep of who he can get out of the buildings and see where he stands,” said Stuart Zamsky, a member of the E. Fifth St. Block Association. “We can’t figure out what he’s up to.” April Diaz’s 88-year-old grandmother (who asked to remain unnamed), a tenant at 229 E. Fifth St. since 1946, was confronted by Toledano following a community meeting, according to Diaz. The landlord told the senior it must be difficult for her to walk up her building’s stairs, and that she might be annoyed once construction starts in the building, and he doesn’t want to bother her, according to Diaz. This somewhat passive-aggres-
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sive behavior is what tenants have grown to expect from Toledano and his cohorts, who often show up at the buildings and ask to randomly inspect apartments and rarely reveal their names or affiliation. Diaz, her mother and sister all grew up in her grandmother’s apartment. She still lives with her grandmother in one of the four currently occupied apartments in the 10-unit building. That the building is more than half empty, Diaz said, is part of the problem. She believes Toledano would like to get them all out and bump his new buildings’ market value up. But it won’t be easy. “I learned that if we don’t need to leave, we don’t have to leave,” Diaz stated. “We don’t really have to leave. What better place to live than in the middle of the East Village?” Yet, Diaz is concerned about the well-being of her grandmother, who she said is still sharp as a whip, but might be alarmed if several men come to inspect her apartment. Currently, no permit has been issued to begin renovation work inside the building. (The last work permit on file is from last year, according to Diaz.) But Toledano’s personnel continue to randomly visit to inspect tenants’ apartments. “I’m not uncomfortable with my grandmother being there alone when this happens,” Diaz said. “But I would much rather be there, because I do know that seven men walking into an apartment is kind of like bullying to an 88-year-old woman.” Nina D’Allessandro, a tenant at the neighboring 231 E. Fifth St. since 1978, had her first interaction with Toledano in late August. She was dealing with an emergency, on the phone with the nurse for her 92-year-old mother, and received a call from Toledano, who wanted to come over to introduce himself. In a whispery voice, Toledano said, “Hi, it’s Raffi,” according to D’Allessandro, who instantly knew who was on the other line. When Toledano asked if he could come over and introduce himself, D’Allessandro declined since, he was not officially the owner yet. D’Allessandro said she also heard another side of Toledano: There was a shift in his voice from frail and willowy to louder and more authoritative when she told him that tenants had not been informed that he was officially the new owner. He then returned to soft-spoken and said that when they finally meet he would like to take a photo with her, because he heard that she’s a famous actress. D’Allessandro contacted Good Old Lower East Side (GOLES), a housing and preservation organization working to protect tenants’ rights, and then reached out to affected tenants to form the Tabak Tenant Coalition, which now includes Toledano’s 16 East Village buildings. As Toledano pur-
Raphael Toledano cuts a suave figure, perhaps, but what are his intentions with his new East Village buildings?
chases more buildings, d’Allessandro said that tenants are welcome to join the group to better understand their rights. (Toledano is currently under contract to purchase an additional 11 buildings in the East Village, West Village and Murray Hill for $55 million.) “Our whole purpose is to gather and disseminate information about our rights and our responsibilities and the resources that are available to us,” said D’Allessandro, who added that the buildings, when they were under former landlord Morton Tabak, who is now nearly 100 years old, always ran smoothly. Tenants had heat and hot water. At times, Tabak would even lower the rent for tenants suffering some financial hardship. “He was very paternalistic,” D’Allesandro said. “He treated us with respect and expected us to treat him the same way.” However, once Morton’s daughter, Janet Garfinkel, and the rest of the Tabak family took over, everything changed, she said. “They just didn’t care anymore, and we think it was unethical on their part to sell to somebody [Toledano] who has been in so much trouble in terms of how he manages his properties,” D’Allessandro said. “To sell to Toledano was really a slap in the face, and it really scared us.” When the properties — including 301 residential apartments and 15 retail spaces — were sold by the Tabak/ Garfinkel family to Toledano, D’Allessandro said that the way tenants were treated prior to the sale was “disrespectful, unkind and sloppy.” Now that it’s official, tenants are
concerned about their future living conditions, including heat and hot water once the weather starts to drop, according to D’Allessandro. There have been no recorded complaints or reports of harassment by Toledano and his team by the tenants’ coalition since Sept. 8. As a welcome, Toledano sent tenants a letter on Sept. 22, confirming that the transfer of ownership had occurred on Sept. 10, along with a box of chocolates and the address where tenants should send October’s rent. On Sept. 28, tenants received another letter from Morton Tabak confirming the change of ownership to Toledano. The years following Tabak’s retirement have been difficult for some tenants. And now, with her building a part of Toledano’s portfolio, D’Allessandro hopes life can return to normal, like it was when Tabak was landlord. Yet, she and other tenants don’t know what to expect. “We’re hoping that we can move into this next phase without great struggle and without incident,” she said. “But it doesn’t look that way.” For Diaz, 229 E. Fifth St. is the only home she’s ever known. And her grandmother won’t leave her apartment of nearly 70 years without a fight. “It’s unfortunate,” Diaz said. “I wish they would understand that it’s not a situation that we’re prepared to back down from. If they want to get rid of us, it’s going to be tough. We’re not just going to roll over and play dead.” Toledano did not respond to requests for comment for this article. EastVillagerNews.com
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EastVillagerNews.com
October 15, 2015
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Former squatters vacate BY LINCOLN ANDERSON
T
8 hours
animation, comic, cartoon art and family art projects
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he city is quietly moving ahead with a plan to renovate two former East Village squats whose residents and a nonprofit housing group have been unable to accomplish the feat. Under the plan, the denizens of the two tenements — 544 E. 13th St. and 377 E. 10th St. — were supposed to have vacated the buildings by this Wed., Oct. 7. An earlier vacate date of Sept. 30 was extended one week. According to the city, the renovations will last two years, after which the former squatters will be allowed to return and buy their units at a low, insider’s price. Meanwhile, a private developer, BFC Partners, led by principal Donald Capoccia, will rehab the two buildings as affordable housing, in return for which BFC will get development rights in the form of an “inclusionary housing” bonus — or F.A.R. (floor area ratio) — usable to build market-rate housing elsewhere nearby. The city is temporarily offering the former squatters units in Stuyvesant Town, for which they would pay a discounted rent — not to exceed 30 percent of 30 percent of area median income. The developer will cover the balance of the rent. But many of the tenants are dispersing farther afield, to Brooklyn, Boston, Philadelphia and elsewhere, where they have better deals for the next couple of years. In 2002, ending years of fractious squatter evictions, the city sold 11 remaining East Village squats for $1 each to the squatters, under a deal brokered by the Urban Homesteading Assistance Board, or UHAB. Under this deal, the squatters were required to bring the tenements up to the city building code, after which they would become affordable coops, and the former squatters — now redubbed “homesteaders” — could buy their units at a low price. But while the other East Village squats steadily moved toward conversion, these two have stalled, and at least one, 544 E. 13th St., was facing imminent foreclosure. That building has been riven by a feud between two factions, one of them led by Isabel Celeste Dawson, the mother of
actress Rosario Dawson, who grew up in the building. The Dawson clan — Isabel, her brother Nicky Scott, Isabel’s ex-husband Greg Dawson, and son Clay — will reportedly get four units in the renovated building. The lead agency on the project for the two squats is the Department of Housing Preservation and Development. In a statement to The Villager, an H.P.D. spokesperson said: “After these two East Village buildings have languished for many years, the city has come up with a plan working with UHAB to bring them back from the brink and provide affordable homeownership in an increasingly expensive neighborhood. If the two properties had been allowed to foreclose, they could have been sold and converted to market-rate units. So this is a great outcome for the buildings’ tenants, who will not only see their homes rehabilitated, but will benefit from permanent affordability under the city’s Inclusionary Zoning program.” The buildings are currently owned by UHAB. Specifically, UHAB and BFC Partners have jointly applied for H.P.D. financing for the project through the Participation Loan Program. BFC Partners has agreed to pay off the liens on both properties. The renovations will be financed with a mix of private debt and city funds, according to H.P.D. BFC will sell the inclusionary housing bonus to another developer, and use these bonus proceeds to pay off the private first mortgage. Although two additional cityowned East Village buildings — not former squats — had earlier been included in this plan, the scheme now only involves the two former squats. These two other buildings are located on the east side of Avenue A between E. 12th and 13th Sts., and on E. 12th St. next to the children’s playground near Avenue B. The current residents will be allowed to buy their units for $2,500 — H.P.D.’s standard insider price for co-op homeownership — provided they meet established criteria, including income restrictions and homeownership training. To preserve the units’ long-term affordability, their resale price will be reFILE PHOTO BY JEFFERSON SIEGEL
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The troubled former squat at 544 E. 13th St., above, will be fixed up by a private developer under the city’s plan. EastVillagerNews.com
homes for renovations stricted in perpetuity. As for how the inclusionary housing bonus will work, the H.P.D. spokesperson said, it “depends on where the developer sells, and it is up to the developer to privately negotiate a price per square foot.� She said, however, the bonus must be used within Community Board 3, or within a half-mile of the site in an adjacent community board. As for exactly how much new F.A.R. for development this deal will translate into, the spokesperson explained, “The bonus ratio is determined by the zoning of the receiving site — which is where the bonus is used.� Asked for examples, she did not elaborate. Frank Morales, a leader in the East Village’s squatter movement in the 1980s and ’90s, has a unit in the E. 10th St. building. He said their problem wasn’t feuding factions. A fire that struck the former squat set them back, however. “It just took time to get our build ing accomplished, due mostly to the fire in ’02, which made our renovation more costly than the others,� he said. “An important point is that we — the residents of No. 377 — have over the last decade and a half cooperated
with all that UHAB, H.P.D., the mayor et al. have asked — who have in recent years threatened foreclosure. So don’t blame us for the time it took. At the end of the day, we are looking to maintain control of our homes, homes we made and managed for ourselves via the blood, sweat, time, tears and cash we invested!� Dragan Vlad said he originally “opened up� the E. 10th St. squat when it was a vacant building and its windows and doors sealed shut with cinderblocks. He said the city will hire its own management for the two renovated buildings, which will bring them under better control. In October 2014, as first reported by The Villager, Juan Scott, a cousin of the Dawsons’ who had been staying at 544 E. 13th St. since that summer, was arrested and charged with the attempted rape of a Stuy Town woman, plus two other sexual assaults in the East Village. Meanwhile, in May 2013, Manuel Salazar, 21, a resident of 377 E. 10th St., was arrested there for criminal possession of two semi-automatic guns, plus intent to sell a controlled substance for having five pounds of pot, two “large� bags of hallucinogenic mushrooms and 44 tablets of Xanax, as well as $13,000 in cash.
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Sign honors love that Larry Selman ‘collected’ BY TEQUILA MINSKY
T
PHOTO BY TEQUILA MINSKY
he corner of Bedford and Grove Sts. is now Larry Selman Way, named for the street’s relentless fundraiser and community activist who died in 2013 at age 70. On Tues., Oct. 6, the sidewalk was packed with members of the Bedford St. Block Association and Community Board 2, and other neighbors and friends spilling into the streets to mark the occasion. Assemblymember Deborah Glick and Councilmember Corey Johnson emceed the event. Larry Selman, who lived on Bedford St., would often base himself at that corner, hitting up passersby — neighbors, tourists, everyone he encountered, for causes like cancer, St. Vincent’s Hospital, 9/11 victims, the annual AIDS Walk, muscular dystrophy, juvenile diabetes, cerebral palsy or for disabled firefighters. He sold thousands of dollars of raffle tickets for the block association and got to know everybody. Johnson reminded those present that he did it for $1, and sometimes only a few cents, at a time. “He built a community on a foundation of generosity and service,” Johnson said.
At the dedication of “Larry Selman Way,” from left, Alice Elliot, Deborah Glick, Kathy Donaldson, Corey Johnson and Sally Dill.
Selman was developmentally disabled with an IQ below 60 and was practically living in poverty himself, which made his community participation so much more remarkable. When neighbors learned of his financial situation, they pitched in to contact social services and other support that helped him live comfortably and independently. Glick highlighted how significant it was that this block of neighbors came together in the true sense of community. She noted that, in a time of rising rents, and changing demo-
graphics, this sort of solidarity is increasingly hard to find. Selman’s life gained more attention when his neighbor Alice Elliot made a short documentary about him, “The Collector of Bedford Street.” The film was nominated for an Academy Award in 2003 and the two attended the awards in Hollywood that year. With the movie, Selman’s life changed. For eight years, he attended film festivals and premieres of the film, traveling to 18 states and two countries, Canada and Dubai, accom-
panied by his neighbor and friend Sally Dill. At the street sign dedication, Dill recounted their travels. “Larry received The Caring Award [for outstanding contributions as a volunteer] in 2009 along with Colin Powell at the Frederick Douglass Museum in downtown L.A.,” she recalled. “He hit up Powell for a donation following receiving the award.” Powell gave him a bill — a $100 one. After the remembrances of Selman, those who knew him so well yanked the rope to pull off the paper covering and unveil the sign. They then gathered in the yard at the Greenwich House Music School, at 46 Barrow St., for a casual reception. A plaque with his name sits in a tree pit outside of his Bedford St. apartment building. But the Bedford Barrow Commerce Block Association, led by its president, Kathy Donaldson, wanted to recognize Larry Selman in a larger way. The co-named street was the result of the dedicated efforts of the block association, the C.B. 2 Traffic and Transportation Committee, the City Council and the Mayor’s Office. Mayor de Blasio signed a bill authorizing “Larry Selman Way” on Aug. 10, 2015.
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On 2nd Ave., trying to rebuild homes and lives; SECOND AVE. continued from p. 1
14
October 15, 2015
PHOTOS BY YANNIC RACK
pushing through my ceiling.’ They had to go from the bottom and chainsaw them out.” Collery’s apartment on the fourth floor of 125 Second Ave. was among the most damaged — but at least her building was still standing. The explosion, which was caused by suspected illegal gas tapping at 121 Second Ave., and the subsequent fire, leveled three buildings and claimed two lives. Now, more than six months later, Collery and some other tenants still have not been able to return to their apartments in her building. She has been staying with friends and family since the tragedy that uprooted her life, but she said she never expected to be gone for this long, despite the destruction. “I keep changing the date for the moving company,” she said. “It’s been pretty grueling, but at least we know we’re coming back, unlike the people in the three buildings [that were destroyed]. That keeps me in perspective.” The feeling is echoed by others in her building. “People lost way more than I did. There’s still an apartment for me to go back to. Some people lost everything,” said Jennifer Porto, who shared a two-bedroom apartment with a roommate on the building’s sixth floor. Her roommate is not moving back. Their unit suffered especially because flames from the burning building next door reached it. “It was pretty burnt,” Porto said. “The entire living room area was completely burnt, my roommate’s room was the same. My room was not as bad with the fire damage, but the water and smoke damage ruined all my clothes and everything.” Porto, who moved into the apartment two years ago and works at a digital media company in Midtown, vividly remembers the day of the explosion. She was at work and first saw footage of the fire on Periscope, a live video-streaming app. “All that we saw was just the disaster unfolding. It was so sad and so scary to be watching it,” she said. “I mean, I’m glad that I wasn’t home, but it was also so weird to just be watching, not knowing what you would come home to. And then that night, no one was allowed to go over there. I tried to go home after work, but the firefighters wouldn’t let me through.” She initially stayed in hotels after the explosion but soon switched to couch surfing with friends on the Lower East Side and living with her boyfriend in the Bronx. The Standard hotel initially offered victims a free three-night stay at its locations in the East Village and in the
The Lipsky family in front of the vacant site at E. Seventh St. and Second Ave. where three buildings were leveled and two men died after a gas explosion and fire on March 26. Their building, 125 Second Ave., survived the blast.
Meatpacking District, which Porto took advantage of. In addition, organizations like Good Old Lower East Side and the Cooper Square Committee organized short-term housing for displaced tenants. “I think they’re in the process of refurbishing it and they’re probably another month or two away from finishing,” Porto said of her apartment last month, adding that she hasn’t been back in the building since April. “Whenever I’m in the area, I pass by and it makes me sad that I’m not there,” she said. “I say to people, ‘Can we go down First Avenue, or can we go down this way?’ I just don’t want to pass by because I loved living there.” Although most of the tenants have moved back into 125 Second Ave., there is still no cooking gas. At 41 E. Seventh St., the other building around the corner that was also damaged by the blast, the gas was only turned back on at the end of August. The remaining tenants at that building are currently trying to get a rent abatement from their landlord, according to Steve Herrick, executive director of the Cooper Square Committee, which provided temporary housing to about seven households from the three buildings that collapsed. According to Herrick, many tenants at 41 E. Seventh St. waited for a few weeks until the air quality got better, while some didn’t return at all, even though their apartments were largely undamaged. “Over all, people told me almost half the apartments got vacated, and people just didn’t bother to come back,” he said. “Because they were without gas and the smell was a concern, people just went and found other apartments. In a way, the landlord benefitted from this — they have to resolve their insurance claims, but I’m sure they get a vacancy increase on all
Diane McLean and her three children lost their apartment in the disaster and had to relocate.
those apartments.” Stuart Lipsky and his family were also among the victims that took advantage of the free stay at The Standard, which they described as an odd but uplifting experience. “You’d expect to be depressed and shocked — but it’s such a nice hotel,” said Kayoko Lipsky, his wife. The hotel staff cleaned their clothes and gave them care packages with gift cards for J.Crew and Bloomingdale’s, as well as socks and other necessities. Stuart has lived on the second floor of 125 Second Ave. since 1980 and the couple raised Hannah, their 13-yearold daughter, in the building. Just three months before the explosion, they put in a new kitchen. The family moved back in late June after Stuart, a retired chemistry teacher, spent three months fixing up the whole apartment, replacing the win-
dows, cleaning out mold and broken furniture and painting the walls. He still has to replace the floor. “If I was waiting, I would have been just sitting here, sucking my thumb,” he said, sitting in their living room, under a set of landscape paintings made by his late father, which were unharmed, save for some chipped paint. “During three months, Stu came here every day,” Kayoko said. “Eventually, it became O.K.” He also put movable metal grates on the windows, as protection against burglars. There used to be a narrow airshaft outside, but since the buildings collapsed there has been an empty lot next door — vacant except for two symbolic graves that are regularly tended by the families of the two men that died in the disaster. “We’re the crypt masters now. The parents still come every other day,” Stu said, adding that he sometimes lets them in through their building, which has a backdoor that opens onto the lot. The Lipskys didn’t know either of the men personally. (One of the victims was a customer at Sushi Park restaurant in 121 Second Ave.; the other worked there.) But they still grieve their own loss: One of their two cats, Rice, has been missing since March. Although the Fire Department found two incinerated animal bodies after the fire, Stuart is still hanging up missing posters around the neighborhood, in the hopes Rice will eventually turn up. When the explosion hit, none of the family were at home, but Stuart arrived even before the firefighters did. Contrary to everyone else, he ran back into his building, to try and save the two cats. He managed to find only one by the time the apartment was filled with smoke so thick he couldn’t see his feet. “Everyone said it was stupid to go back for the cats,” he said. “I’m just sad I left when I did. But it was time to go. I wanted to see my daughter’s Bat Mitzvah.” Both Stuart and Kayoko said that their daughter, a student at the NEST school on the Lower East Side, was the key to moving on. With the planning around her Bat Mitzvah, in June, there was barely time to stop and reflect on what had happened. “It’s like when a boat sinks, and you’ve got three people just holding each other in the water,” Stuart said, describing the catastrophe’s aftermath. “You just manage to stay afloat.” One of the many people that did not have a home to return to after the explosion was Diane McLean, a single mother who lived with her three SECOND AVE. continued on p. 15 EastVillagerNews.com
Some have left East Village
PHOTO BY TEQUILA MINSKY
The shapes of two graves have been marked out with stones and memorials left at the explosion site, in memory of Nicholas Figueroa and Moises Lucan, who both died in the fiery explosion at Second Ave. and E. Seventh St. on March 26. SECOND AVE. continued from p. 14
young kids in a four-bedroom apartment at 45 E. Seventh St., another address for 119 Second Ave., one of the three buildings that were reduced to rubble by the blast and fire. McLean lived in the apartment for 35 years, almost her entire adult life. “My three children were born into that apartment and it was the only home they’ve ever known,” she said. “All of my roots are in the East Village. I have neighbors in my building who I’ve known for 45 years.” She said that, thanks to her job as a child psychiatrist at Lincoln Hospital in the Bronx, she could afford the apartment because it was rent-stabilized. But it proved impossible to find a similar home in the area at market rate. The Cooper Square Committee offered them housing. McLean says two of her neighbors took the offer. However, all that was available was a studio, way too small for four people. She eventually found an apartment in Bushwick in late April. It is actually larger than their old place, but also far more expensive. “That’s an issue of course. And it isn’t in our old neighborhood,” McLean said, adding that her kids still attend the Children’s Workshop School on E. 12th St. She also emphasized how much support her family received from teachers, parents and students at the East Village school, who raised monEastVillagerNews.com
ey, donated clothes and, most importantly, provided emotional support. “We are walking around in clothes that friends have given us,” she said. “We’re wearing people’s care. That’s actually pretty wonderful.” McLean, along with everyone interviewed for this article and many others, started online fundraisers to get by. Most of these are hosted on a dedicated Web site, helpeastvillage. com, and not all have reached their funding goals yet. Without exception, everyone still praises the help and kindness of strangers and friends alike, who offered their apartments and donated money and necessities. McLean said her family desperately needed all the help they could get, since all of their belongings were lost, including things that “can’t be replaced” — like portraits of her grandmother’s family from the 1920s and ’30s. “I think we’re really lucky. I’m grateful every day,” she said. “But every day it’s sad at the same time. My older daughter can’t sleep at night. She still worries that anywhere we are, we’ll have a gas explosion and a fire. She has these images of the fire in her head. She won’t go near that block.” She described the loss of their home like a death in the family, with their whole lives changed forever by the disaster. “You build a life, piece by piece, and fabric by fabric. To have that destroyed in a day is devastating.” October 15, 2015
15
Historic rent freeze is a win for affordability EDITORIAL
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ast Thurs., Oct. 1, the new rent adjustments for rent regulation in New York City went into effect. In the historic vote, held at the end of June at The Cooper Union’s Great Hall in the East Village, the Rent Guidelines Board called for no increase for one-year lease renewals and a 2 percent increase for twoyear renewals. The new adjustments apply to all rent-stabilized leases up for renewal between this Oct. 1 and next September. What had never been achieved in the 46 years of existence of the R.G.B. was finally pulled off — a rent freeze! Many in the raucous crowd, featuring passionate housing groups from the Bronx and elsewhere, shouted in English and Spanish, “What do we want? Roll-back!” That would have meant an actual rent reduction for New Yorkers living in the city’s 1 million rent-stabilized units, which is slightly less than half of the city’s total stock of 2.2 million rental apartments. At the news that there would only be a freeze, many started angrily crying out, “Shut It Down!” However, as Harvey Epstein, a for-
mer chairperson of Community Board 3 who is an R.G.B. appointee, assured the crowd, calming the mood in the auditorium, putting things in perspective: “Let’s realize, this is not a sprint. It’s a marathon. This is about today, this is about the future. We’ll be back next year, to keep doing better and better.” In other words, the guidelines board, as currently composed by Mayor Bill de Blasio, will have at least two more go-rounds in the mayor’s current term — and then in a possible second de Blasio term — to either keep instituting a rent freeze or even call for a rent rollback. Clearly, the figures justify a rollback. In recent years, the R.G.B. has exaggerated landlords’ projected operating expenses, using these faulty numbers to justify rent hikes for hard-working New Yorkers trying to stay afloat in a tough economy amid never-ending inflation. The cost of living simply keeps going up and salaries are not keeping pace. But the landlords’ price index that the R.G.B. uses to calculate rent increases this year was its lowest since 2002. Meanwhile, landlords have seen a net operating increase — profits — of 34 percent since 1990. Yet, even if there is not a rollback next year, two more years of rent freezes would go a long way toward helping
tenants get by. As it is, 35 percent to 40 percent of city residents are currently paying half their income toward rent, to the point that they are, by definition, “rent burdened.” Three-quarters of a million New Yorkers are living below the poverty line. One setback and these people are simply left reeling. It’s an untenable situation. Mayor de Blasio has explained this situation very clearly, as seen in his State of the City speech earlier this year. Indeed, freezing rents was a huge step in addressing the city’s “affordability crisis,” as he has defined it. De Blasio has taken his share of blows in his first two years, from the police crisis to the homeless crisis — the latter which is probably going to wane now that it's cooler. But the rent freeze was a dramatic display of de Blasio’s power to shape the city. What always seemed impossible is now a reality. He couldn’t quite manage it in his first year, since he hadn’t yet gotten full control of all the R.G.B. appointments. But firmly in the driver’s seat in year two, he made good on his pledge to hold the line on rents. During the run-up to the R.G.B.’s vote, we were particularly inspired by our local freshman Councilmember Corey Johnson, who showed real leadership — and faith in de Blasio’s wherewithal — in championing early
on the push for a rent freeze and preferably a rollback. It was good to see Johnson among the crowd at Cooper Union giving two thumbs up as the R.G.B. members cast their votes and shouting, “Si, se puede!" ("Yes, we can!”) Jumaane Williams, a leader in the Council, was also there, lending his voice to the call for a “Roll-back!” Assemblymember Brian Kavanagh was in the house, too. Landlords and real estate organizations obviously are apoplectic over the rent freeze. “This is myopic,” complained a landlord representative on the board. However, property owners will still be making their profits, but at long last, the unfair rent gouging is being stemmed. As Rachel Godsil, the board’s chairperson, so aptly put it: “Tenants are struggling, while landlords are doing O.K. Our charge is not to widen the gap, but to make the system equitable.” Bravo! A big negative, sadly, was Governor Cuomo’s failure to significantly raise the cap for vacancy decontrol. He boosted the amount only around a couple hundred dollars. That is a problem because it means more affordable units will be lost. Still, it doesn’t diminish the historic rent freeze.
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR What would Purple say? To The Editor: Re “Adam Purple, gardens godfather, 84, dies biking on Williamsburg Bridge” (news article, Sept.17): I recall walking through this garden in the 1970s when I lived at 131 Eldridge St. It was a magnificently beautiful spot and a respite from the concrete jungle that is Manhattan. I do recall a big sign posted in the garden that warned people
not to vandalize it at the risk of being shot with a shotgun. This individual, Adam Purple, was obviously a rebel, an iconoclast of sorts — but a constructive rebel. Creating a beautiful garden provided access to nature for people living in city buildings, amid cars, machines, etc. We need more folks like this man who are willing to pioneer new paths and break the mold. I do see a pattern here in Manhattan: Destroying precious, pristine gardens for various motives —
IRA BLUTREICH
for affordable housing, for luxury housing, etc. Here in my Grand St. co-op the management destroyed a beautiful garden — although they left untouched the circumference, which includes many trees and some grass and land. The motive was to build a playground to attract apartment buyers. And now a beautiful garden on Elizabeth St. is being threatened by a plan to build affordable housing there. There is obviously a strong need for affordable housing. But to destroy the very limited green spaces in order to do so indicates the lack of respect, the lack of understanding about the crucial need for nature and respite from the concrete jungle, from the obscene noise and air pollution. I can imagine Adam Purple’s response: “My son, Michael, the destruction of these gardens reflects the dehumanization of your society in general. That is, the loss of humanity in the masses of Americans drives the destruction of these gardens.” Michael Gottlieb
Will the Tea Party pick the next speaker of the House? 16
October 15, 2015
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Adam Purple and me; Fond radical remembrances NOTEBOOK BY BILL WEINBERG
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PHOTO COPYRIGHT HARVEY WANG
dam Purple, my late estranged eccentric uncle. Did you know that I invoke your name and works every week? For the past three years that I’ve been doing walking tours on the radical history of Alphabet City for the Museum of Reclaimed Urban Space (MoRUS), I’ve stopped every Sunday in La Plaza Cultural community garden on E. Ninth St., told tourists and students and travelers about the successful struggle to save it from the bulldozers in the late ’80s. Then I sit them down in the garden’s gazebo and tell them that the struggle for La Plaza was immediately preceded by one for another impressive garden, south of Alphabet City, in the older part of the Lower East Side — and we lost that one. The rap goes something like this... Back in the ’80s, the city government was using a divide-and-conquer strategy to break up the community gardening movement. They foresaw that the Lower East Side was going to be “redeveloped,” but all this land that had fallen outside of bureaucratic control — abandoned by the city and taken over by guerilla gardeners. Getting this land back under control was a form of counterinsurgency. But back then, you couldn’t just take over a community garden to build a luxury development —for two reasons. First, the Lower East Side was still a “bad neighborhood” and the yuppies didn’t want to come here yet. And there was still enough working-class power in the neighborhood — a local political machine linked to the left wing of the Democratic Party — that they couldn’t get away with it. Later, in the ’90s, it became possible to bulldoze a garden for “market-rate” housing. But back in those early days it wasn’t. So the city used a divide-and-conquer strategy... They’d say they needed the “empty lot” (because these vibrant gardens had no bureaucratic existence) for a public low-income housing project. This was an attempt to play the housing advocates off against the gardeners. There was a lot of overlap between the two groups — some housing advocates were also gardeners — but this was a means of driving a wedge between them. And there was one locally famous case where it worked...Adam Purple’s Garden of Eden, on Eldridge St. Adam Purple was an old hippie who was the last guy living in one of the last tenements left standing on the block. He’d been there since the early ’70s. The landlord had abandoned the building, all the other tenants had moved out, and he was squatting all alone, with no heat or electricity. Most of the rest of the block was a big vacant lot. And he started turning that expanse of blighted waste into a garden. In the middle was a perfect Tao symbol made of flowers, beside a Chinese empress tree that apparently sprouted there of its own accord. Emanating out from the Tao symbol were concentric rings — one growing corn, another growing vegetables, another with fruit trees — until it covered the entire lot. And in his visionary or eccentric (depending on your point of view) ambition, Adam foresaw that it would continue to expand indefinitely — to other vacant lots around the neighborhood, and then throughout the city, breaking down the grid pattern and replacing it with a circular one
Adam Purple at the top of his fire escape on Forsyth St., overlooking his Garden of Eden.
more in tune with the Earth. Adam looked the part. He had a long white beard and dressed in head-to-toe tie-dyed purple (including floppy hat) and wore purple reflecting sunglasses. He had a bicycle that he rigged with a wheelbarrow in the back, and he’d bike up to Central Park, fill the barrow with manure from the horse trails, and bike it back down to the Lower East Side to fertilize his garden. And that blitzed site, thusly nurtured, put out. He was growing food that he lived on and shared with his neighbors.
Adam called the destruction of the garden a ‘political hit,’ with complicity going all the way up to the federal Department of Housing and Urban Development.
Then, in 1985, the city announced plans for a housing project on that site. The community was divided. Some people rallied around Adam’s garden; some rallied around the housing project. There was litigation. And in the end, the city bulldozers came in and destroyed it — in the dead of winter, in January 1986, when the flowers weren’t in bloom, and it was hard to mobilize people to the streets.
The following year, the city tried to do the same thing at La Plaza Cultural. That time, the community organized, fought back, and won. La Plaza still thrives today. But the loss of the Garden of Eden was a blow that set a precedent for the wave of garden destruction in the late ’90s and early ’00s. I got to know Adam in ’85 when I was a young activist, amid the struggle to save his garden. His briefly published underground newspaper, the Inner City Light, was one of the first places I read about anarchism (some political theory amid Adam’s idiosyncratic, psychedelic wordplay). I even took acid in the garden one night. Adam called his creation an eARThWORK — since it was both an earthwork and an artwork. In addition to horse manure, Adam used his own s--- for fertilizer — “night soil.” He maintained that his strict vegetarian diet made his own excrement no more foul or hazardous than horse droppings. In one of his many alter-egos, Adam called himself Gen. Zen of the Intergalactic Psychic Police of Uranus. This was another pun. For Adam, we had to start thinking about how to integrate into the environment the stuff that comes out of your anus, and stop dumping it in the sea. “You don’t piss in your bathtub, do you?” he posed rhetorically. Adam called the destruction of the garden a “political hit,” with complicity going all the way up to the federal Department of Housing and Urban Development. And while I’m not sure about conscious federal designs, I think he was right. The tip-off is that there were plenty of vacant lots (I mean really vacant ones, without gardens) right in the immediate area. The bureaucracy clearly chose that one in order to wipe out Adam’s anarchistic experiment. But there was also a depressing racial undertone to the struggle over the garden. Most (not all) of Adam’s supporters were from the white hippie, punker and squatter element in the PURPLE continued on p. 24 October 15, 2015
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Transit big wheel’s call: Cars are in free fall
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October 15, 2015
RHYMES WITH CRAZY BY LENORE SKENAZY
S
am Schwartz grew up tearing through Brooklyn on his bike, making deliveries for his family’s mom-and-pop grocery. He rode the subways, too, and sometimes took them all the way into the train yards with his friend — “which was pretty scary,” he admits. But his dream form of transit was none of the above. When he finally scraped together the cash, he purchased his prized possession, a 1960 Chevy Impala with huge flat fins. Like everyone else in Bensonhurst, he spent an inordinate amount of time waxing his beloved. Pull up next to him at a stoplight? He’d gun it. He was such a car fanatic that in between getting his physics degree at Brooklyn College and his master’s at the University of Pennsylvania in — what else? — civil engineering with an eye toward traffic planning, he worked as a cabbie. Eventually, Schwartz became the city’s chief transit commissioner and then our Department of Transportation’s chief engineer, even while he wrote the book — literally — on New York’s traffic shortcuts. His column in the New York Daily News was called “Gridlock Sam.” (And in the Yiddish press, “Gridlock Shmuel.”) It currently lives on in our sister paper Downtown Express as “Transit Sam.” “I don’t think I’ve driven my car in three weeks,” he said. “It’s gathering a lot of dust.” We’re sitting in the buzzing Chelsea office of Sam Schwartz Engineering, surrounded by brainy-looking millennials doing the work he is dedicated to today: figuring out how to get more people out of their cars and onto subways, buses, streetcars, bikes and their own two feet. Oh, he still tackles traffic. In fact, Barclays Center folks hired him to figure out how not to make game nights a snarling, honking nightmare for all of Downtown Brooklyn. But Schwartz sees the writing on the asphalt, even if the federal government, intent on building ever-more highways, does not. The future isn’t on four wheels. If you want your area to attract young people, entrepreneurs and capital, you have to make it walkable. That’s the premise behind his new
book, “Street Smart: The Rise of Cities and the Fall of Cars” (Public Affairs Books). His facts are hard to refute. “Something happened around the millennium and nobody noticed and it’s nothing short of a revolution,” Schwartz says, eyes twinkling as he pointed out that in 2003 — for the first time since World War II — Americans drove fewer miles than the year before. And then they drove even fewer in 2004. And even fewer in 2005. “It went down for 10 straight years, and nobody noticed it.” Talk about a cultural shift. Schwartz only began to notice the decline about 2010, but he also noticed nobody else was noticing it. He’d go to conferences about the future of transportation and see graphs with highway construction projections pointing up, up, up, as if to meet a growing need for a need that wasn’t growing. So his mission today is to explain the real trend: Young people don’t want to spend their lives behind the wheel. They’d rather call Uber or hop on a bike or commute virtually. “In 1990, about two-thirds of 19-year-olds had licenses,” says Schwartz. “Now it’s less than half. In 2014, more cars were retired than bought for the first time.” The auto companies are worried, but cities should be excited. They’re already poised to attract the kids without cars, and Schwartz’s research shows that the more walkable a city is, the higher the G.D.P. — the gross domestic product. So, fewer cars equals more capital. What irks him, then, is the way government funding still flows to highway construction, and yet any money earmarked for public transit is dubbed a “subsidy.” “As if highways aren’t subsidies, too — for drivers!” It looks like the future is a break from the past, but Schwartz says it’s really a return. For millennia, humans lived in small, densely populated areas. It was the 70-year suburban experiment that was radical. And now, he believes, its time is up. And New York is obviously poised to reap the benefit of being the ultimate walkable town. “But New York could lose its edge if we lose a tunnel or a transit facility,” Schwartz warns. Cars have their place — someplace else. The future belongs to the cities that can pack us in and get us around. Skenazy is a keynote speaker and author and founder of the book and blog “Free-Range Kids” EastVillagerNews.com
Science fiction theater triple feature ‘Honeycomb’ chronicles an alien invasion through the years
PHOTO BY DEBORAH ALEXANDER
By “Sovereign,” the trilogy’s final part, the humble living room set has transformed into a throne room for a post-alien government.
BY CHARLES BATTERSBY
S
cience fiction has been a part of theater history since the early 20th century. Even the first use of the word “robot” dates back to “R.U.R.” — a Czech play from 1920. Although these early works used their futuristic themes to address serious issues, modern sci-fi theater tends towards parody and camp. The upcoming “Honeycomb Trilogy” of plays by Gideon Productions bucks the trend of campiness, and instead takes an earnest and thoughtful look at life on Earth EastVillagerNews.com
following an alien invasion. The “Honeycomb Trilogy” consists of three full-length plays. “Advance Man” takes place in the near future, following the first manned mission to Mars. “Blast Radius” is set 12 years later in a world where mankind shares the Earth with aliens. The story is concluded in “Sovereign,” which takes place even further into the future as humanity struggles to create a new society after a devastating war. The trilogy was performed in 2012, each play coming a few months after the previous. Audiences who enjoyed the first play had to wait six
months to find out how the story ended, and people who missed the first two couldn’t catch up on the story when “Sovereign” rolled around. In its current run, the three shows are performed in repertory, including weekend marathons where audiences can see the entire trilogy in one sitting — with breaks for meals. An epic interplanetary conflict might seem inherently unsuited to the intimate nature of theater, but playwright Mac Rogers explains how he addressed these concerns. “Don’t try to imitate film, or television, or literature. Make it a theatrical experience. And one of the de-
finitive theatrical styles is the Living Room Play,” he says. “How could you tell an entire story like this? Take the American Living Room play and explode it. Use it to tell a story of an epic, sweeping the whole world. The only way to make that work was to make that living room have three different functions over three different plays.” That idea is realized by using the same basic living room set in all three plays. In the first play, it looks much like a modern living room. In the second, humanity has regressed HONEYCOMB, continued on p.23 October 15, 2015
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Straight outta Bellevue
Rev. Jen, on joie de vivre in the face of adversity BY REV. JEN MILLER
A
lot of people think that, because I wear costumes and elf ears, I must love Halloween. Truth be told, I hate it. My father ruined the holiday for the whole family when he died the night before Halloween six years ago. In fact, I hate October entirely, given almost everyone I’ve ever loved who passed away did so IN OCTOBER. My sister and I are both terrified of turning the calendar page come October 1st. I suggested we make little advent calendars counting down to November with a Xanax or a nip of vodka in each window. Amazingly, October now has a new rival for worst month ever: July, which has always been my favorite month. First, my birthday is July 24th, which according to “The Book of Birthdays” is “The Day of Exciting Instability.” Apt, when you consider the fact that Zelda Fitzgerald, J-Lo, Amelia Earhart and Ruth Buzzi were all born on July 24th. Like all good Leos, I like sun, surf, hair products, attention and excitement. But sometimes there’s too much excitement, too much instability — and it breaks you even if you’re a fierce Lioness. There are only two ‘C’ words I hate: the first is continuity, the second, cancer. Hearing the second produces a lump in your throat and a heartache that lasts for months. On July 12, while visiting his sister in Boston, my fiancé, Joe (who you might remember from previous columns as the light of my life and the fire of my loins) suffered a cerebral hemorrhage, and it was discovered he had a brain tumor, which I am told resembled a large flan. Luckily, Mass General (rated the #1 hospital in the nation) is in Boston, and as they continue to radiate him, I know he’s in great hands. Plus, even
PHOTO BY JOHN FOSTER
Pumpkin courtesy of Black Tree, curiosity courtesy of a black cat.
Friends, of Dorothy: Faceboy, Reverend Jen Junior and Rev. Jen work the no-hassle Halloween gingham look.
though he no longer has long, blond Viking locks, he’s got Viking blood, which goes a long way. Obviously, the secondary tragedy here is that I’ve had to go to Boston several times. If I seem weird in New York, everyone in Boston thinks I’m two cans short of a six-pack. There is no room for eccentricity in Boston. Just wearing a Yankees cap there is considered rebellion. Hence, I’ve been sneaking off to Cape Cod and staying with friends’ parents. Even though I am the least preppy person alive and Cape Cod is swarming with whale pants and polo shirts, it’s peaceful there. Rarely do I need nature (I prefer industrial waste), but the ocean and stars are there to remind us that we’re part of a bigger picture, oneness and love. Sometimes, in NYC, we get so caught up in trying to “make it” here that we forget how important love is. Apparently my boss forgot about love and kindness — or she is actually
a reptile, which I suspected all along — because she fired me for taking (unpaid) leave to visit Joe. See everyone back in Housing Court! Looking for work — but in the meantime, hedging my bets on scratch-off tickets, a dollar and a dream. My birthday came and went without a party, a piñata or a pizza (though a random fan sent me a Cookie Puss). Though all I really wanted was Joe, his touch, his laughter and his willingness to take out the garbage and refill the ice trays. Having recently been called a “chronic complainer” by an employed person whose fiancé doesn’t have brain cancer, I hesitate to even elaborate on more woes, but it would be dishonest were I not to share the icing on the cake. While on one of my various trips to Boston, I got a bladder infection! I’m guessing it’s either from the velour of the $15 bus, or being so miserable that I forgot to bathe. Off to Bellevue I went, where they gave me
an unfamiliar antibiotic. Next thing I knew, my body broke out in a neck-to-toe red rash and I developed a 104-degree fever! While I am always dishonest with potential employers, I am honest with medical professionals, given they can save your ass from death. I told them that, yes, I am a heavy drinker and yes, if you ask me how many partners I’ve had, the answer will be, “I have no clue.” This was a bad idea, as they simply forgot about what was obviously an allergic reaction to medication and focused solely on my depraved lifestyle. What followed were three days in Bellevue lockdown. Have you ever stayed in Bellevue? It’s crazy! If I were to write a Yelp review for Bellevue, it would say, “like a crack house without the benefit of crack.” First, no one in Bellevue is allowed to sleep. I was in a ward with four 90-somethings who screamed all night and day for no reason other than to torture me. If you do manage a second of shut-eye, an orderly invariably appears to eiREV. JEN, continued on p. 23
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Just Do Art WIN TICKETS TO “THE VELVETEEN RABBIT”
PHOTO BY ROWA LEE, COURTESY FRIENDS OF THE HIGH LINE
So fun it’s scary: Oct. 24’s High Line Haunted Halloween has food, puppet shows, music, and mild mayhem.
The Atlantic Theater Company begins its 2015/2016 “Atlantic for Kids” season with a world premiere musical adaptation of “The Velveteen Rabbit.” Long before the days of Woody and Buzz Lightyear, the nursery toy characters of author Margery Williams Bianco helped children explore matters of longing, loss, wisdom, and friendship. A young cast brings life to the book’s beloved tug boat, wooden lion, porcelain doll and sawdust-stuffed rabbit, as they explore what it means to be real. A talkback session after each performance offers kids the chance to interact with cast members and discuss the themes of the play. For the chance to win four tickets to the Nov. 1 show, send an email to Scott@TheVillager.com. Include a daytime contact number. The winner will be notified on Oct. 26. Best suited for ages 3 to 9. Sat. & Sun. at 10:30 a.m., through Nov. 1. At Atlantic Theater Company’s The Linda Gross Theater (336 W. 20th St. btw. Eighth & Ninth Aves.). Not content to take your chances on our raffle? Call 866-811-4111 or visit atlantictheater.org to purchase tickets ($15 for ages 10 and under, $20 for adults, with group discounts available).
BLESSING OF ANIMALS AT CHELSEA COMMUNITY CHURCH
PHOTO BY AHRON R. FOSTER
Enter our raffle for the chance to win four tickets to the Nov. 1 performance of Atlantic Theater Company’s “The Velveteen Rabbit.”
HIGH LINE HAUNTED HALLOWEEN
Ghosts of the past come to life for a fall afternoon of mild frights, sweet surprises, and haunted history lessons that harken back to when freight trains ran at street-level on 10th Ave. — causing so many collisions that the area became known as “Death Avenue.” To prevent pedestrians from becoming ghosts, “West Side Cowboys” used to ride their horses in front of trains, to warn of approaching traffic. Some of them will return on Oct. 24, along with other historical characters from the neighborhood’s industrial era (and instead of giving warnings, they’ll be handing out treats). So come in costume and get EastVillagerNews.com
into the spirit, as you trick-or-treat and participate in frighteningly fun free activities that include face painting, a photo booth, a puppet show by Penny Jones & Co., horn-powered tunes from The Rad Trads, the spooky storytelling of April Armstrong, Caribbean-influenced brass hip-hop music by Bombrasstico, and sweet treats (Day of the Dead cookies! Hot chocolate! Pumpkin pie ice cream!) from fiendishly creative vendors La Newyorkina, Melt Bakery, and Terroir at the Porch. Free. Open to all ages (costumes encouraged!). Sat., Oct. 24, 11 a.m.–3 p.m. on the High Line (btw. W. 14th St. & W. 17th St. Enter via the stairs or elevators at W. 14th or W. 16th Sts.). For info, visit thehighline.org or call 212-206-9922.
The nondenominational Chelsea Community Church (CCC) is really serious about that “all are welcome” policy — especially when it comes to their annual Blessing of Animals service, where the pews are full of paws (and feathers, and even scales). The guest speaker is Eric Barsness, of Puppies Behind Bars — a program that trains prison inmates to raise service dogs. Tenor Otto Walberg, the service’s longtime lay leader, will perform a new
COURTESY HIGH LINE OPEN STUDIOS
Maria Fragoudaki’s workspace, seen here, is one of the destinations on your High Line Open Studios self-guided tour (Oct. 17 and 18).
song composed by singer-songwriter and guitarist Phil Marsh, who will accompany Walberg. On Nov. 1, the church celebrates its 40th year with a service that includes special music and an overview of CCC’s history. The Blessing of Animals service takes place on Sun., Oct. 18 at 12 p.m. at St. Peter’s Chelsea (346 W. 20th St. btw. Eighth & Ninth Aves.). Free (a collection will be taken). Visit chelseachurch.org and puppiesbehindbars.com.
HIGH LINE OPEN STUDIOS SELF-GUIDED TOUR
Finding out how the hamburger’s made will be as much fun as having it for lunch — when over 60 artists peel back the curtain to reveal their creative process, and allow you to walk away with a deal on stuff from their studio inventory. The High Line Open Studios event provides the chance to get a rare glimse of artist workspaces, along the High Line between the Westbeth Artists building and the West Chelsea Arts building. Sat. & Sun., Oct. 17–18, 12–6 p.m. The self-guided tour starts at the West Chelsea Arts building (508–526 W. 26th St. btw. 10th & 11th Aves.), where visitors can pickup tour maps and info on participating artists. Visit highlineopenstudios.org.
—SCOTT STIFFLER
October 15, 2015
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Nightmare Horror Show brings terror to the theater Seven short plays scare on Suffolk St. BY SEAN EGAN
“T
his actually isn’t a haunted house, it’s a performance. It’s a theater festival this year,” the woman running the box office at the Clemente explains to an inquisitive couple drawn in from the street. It will not be the last time she will recite some variation of this spiel. Visitors to the Nightmare Horror Show could be forgiven for making that mistake. Psycho Clan, the creative team behind the festival, are also responsible for the Nightmare New York haunted house, which has been a Halloween staple in this location for years. This year, however, Psycho Clan chose to mount a theater festival comprised of short, original horror works. The switch is not such a stretch for Timothy Haskell, Psycho Clan leader and Nightmare New York creator, who explains that he always saw Nightmare New York as a kind of link between theater and haunted house. “My roots are in theater, but I love horror, so putting them together is the perfect combo,” Haskell says, noting that theater hasn’t really attempted something like this before. “We’re growing, we’re learning, we’re figuring out what horror theater really is.” It’s a different and ambitious project to be sure, but one Haskell sees as being worth it, and ripe with unexplored potential for delivering “visceral and effective” scares. “Films are quite successful at it, haunted houses are very successful at it,” he elaborates. “I felt like theater, live theater, where you’re sort of entrenched for however long and forced to watch this thing, whatever it is, and feel the sweat and the vibrations of the screams — you know, all that — I was like, ‘It’s gotta be more terrifying than any of it!’ ” Haskell, for his part, is exceedingly busy, wearing multiple hats to ensure things are terrifying — curating the festival’s submissions, keeping everything running smoothly behind the scenes and at the box office, creating and directing his own piece, and, now that the festival’s in full swing, making trips to the laundromat around the corner to clean bloodstained clothing (he’s got the “really high quality” fake blood that makes washing out of costumes a cinch). Despite the stresses of running the festival, he still remains enthusiastic about the whole undertaking.
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October 15, 2015
PHOTO BY MICHAEL BLASE
In Timothy Haskell’s “Smile,” society’s most primal fears are prodded — including a visit from monsters under the bed.
“The thing about horror in general, as an artistic form, is that it has the fewest rules and restrictions artistically,” he asserts. “Whatever the medium, it can be as creative as you are.” The festival’s lineup certainly supports that thesis, as it features an eclectic program of seven shows, which run the gamut of horror subgenres and theatrical styles. “Eddie” is an unnerving sketch about real-life serial killer Ed Gein’s internal dialogue, which employs a gorgeously macabre puppet as its central figure, while “Me_irl” is a wordless piece involving a man eating lunch near a disconcertingly interested crow, brought to life via metallic, steampunk puppet (both puppets were created by “War Horse” alums, Haskell notes). “Broken,” is a haunting and beautifully choreographed dance piece that chronicles a woman’s unraveling mental state to a layered, pulsing score. Elsewhere, the zombie flick sendup “Night of the Touching Zombies” pro-
vides a respite from the chills, as does “Necromancer,” whose audience-participation séance serves some dark humor. Meanwhile, “Bane” is a tense and fully realized character-based living room drama, which examines the relationship between a married couple in the aftermath of an accident. Best of all, however, is Haskell’s own piece, “Smile.” An immersive “4-D” work (inspired, in part, by Dario Argento), “Smile” tells the story of a deranged photographer who goes to great lengths to capture disturbing pictures. This brief description does little to prepare the viewer for the insane, overwhelming sensory experience of the piece — which features, amongst other things, killer clowns, flying viscera, and an eerie Dresden Dolls cover. It also takes full advantage of another benefit of theater Haskell cites: the ability to take its time to create tension and ambiance that heighten fear. “I think that theater can play on the anticipation of fear, if they do it, better
than a haunted house or anything else,” he says — and the scares found while held captive here are a different beast from any other horror experience. Still, with the festival, Haskell has his sights set on more than just scares. “I’m hoping that I can introduce a non-traditional theater-going audience to an art form that I know that they’ll enjoy, and that might turn them into theater-goers, theater lovers,” he says. “I think when they come, they’ll realize ‘Wow, this really is entertaining.’ ” And judging by the gasps and screams emanating from audiences, it seems highly likely that he’s accomplished just that. The Nightmare Horror Show runs through Fri., Oct. 30 at the Clemente Soto Vélez (107 Suffolk St. btw. Rivington & Delancey Sts.). Tickets are $25 for each program (and $15 at the box office for any subsequent program). For the full schedule of shows and artist info, visit nightmarenyc.com. EastVillagerNews.com
Confined to a living room, ‘Honeycomb’ looks to the cosmos HONEYCOMB, continued from p. 19
to an unindustrialized state, which is reflected by the items in that same room. By the third show, the once-humble living room has become the throne room of a newly formed government. The aliens are revealed to be massive insectoid creatures — too large to fit inside human houses, and therefore they never actually appear onstage. “We don’t show very much of the invasion,” says the director of the trilogy, Jordana Williams. “Our sound designer creates an alien invasion through sound. There’s a little bit of lighting that’s happening, but you hopefully believe it from the sound and the actors believing it themselves.” The only physical representation of the aliens ever seen on stage is a severed alien leg. This provides, as Rogers explains, “Just enough so that we can understand the scale of what we are talking about. By far the better representation of the aliens outside of the house is always going to be in how the actors are reacting to the idea that they are out there. Your best special effect in theater is always going to be human bodies. Actors’ faces and actors’ bodies.” Sean Williams, the trilogy’s producer, who also plays a lead role in “Advance Man,” adds, “The most important thing that we don’t do, is that we don’t make light of the genre. When people talk about comic books, that is a word that is loaded
for some people. They think it’s for children.” Jordana Williams points out, “There’s an assumption. When people hear about sci-fi plays, they think it’s going to be ‘Plan 9 From Outer Space.’ ” Because the story takes place over 20 years, some of the roles are played by multiple actors. Ronnie, the leader of the human resistance, is played by Becky Byers as a teenager — but in the third play, she is portrayed by Hanna Cheek as a battle-scarred veteran. “Each show stands alone, remarkably well,” Cheek notes. “I love each of these plays, together as a whole and separately. They remind me that you never know just how far theater can go.” Even though the onstage events are themselves epic, the cast and crew can still discuss in detail what happened in the intervening years that aren’t shown. Ms. Cheek recounts the unseen origin of her character’s limp, Sean Williams describes the meticulous timeline of the offstage war, and both Rogers and Jordana Williams explain the painstaking decisions in creating the alien leg. All of these efforts create a world as richly defined as what would be expected in science fiction cinema and literature. “The Honeycomb Trilogy,” presented by Gideon Productions, runs through Nov. 14. Individual plays run Tues., Thurs. & Fri. at 8 p.m., and the whole trilogy
PHOTO BY DEBORAH ALEXANDER
“Advance Man” (part one of the trilogy) takes place in the near future, following the first manned mission to Mars.
runs Sat. & Sun. starting at 2 p.m., at The Gym at Judson (243 Thompson St., btw. W. Third St. & Washington Sq. South). For tickets ($25, $75 for marathon packages) and artist info, visit gideonth.com.
Rev. Jen’s spooktacular seasonal tips REV. JEN, continued from p. 20
ther jab you with needles or serve you food that looks like a rat ate and then puked it up. But as the antibiotic left my system, I returned like a phoenix from the ashes and was released. There are plenty of good doctors and nurses at Bellevue but the best thing about the joint is leaving it and feeling the sun on your skin. Maybe this column, which I didn’t want to be full of rants and complaints, but is, can end on a high note. How to end on a high note when things are whack? Here are my suggestions for recapturing joie de vivre in the face of adversity, thus making autumn “spooktacular.”
PUT ABSOLUTELY NO EFFORT INTO YOUR HALLOWEEN COSTUME
Because I’ve been doing shows for over 20 years, I have a million costumes. So often, on Halloween, I invite friends over and all we do is put on costumes and take pictures. Sometimes I discover rations of getups I wasn’t even aware of. For instance, EastVillagerNews.com
who knew I had three “Wizard of Oz” Dorothy dresses, including one for a Chihuahua? Not me! But they looked great on Faceboy, Reverend Jen Junior and me and they required no effort! I’m also a fan of the plastic costumes sold at Woolworths in the ’70s. If you have two safety pins, you can still wear them by just pinning them to the outside of your clothes. I recently acquired both a “Barbie Princess” and an “Alf” costume on eBay. The great thing about these costumes is that if you are a Barbie Princess, no one will mistake you for anything else because it says “Barbie Princess” directly on the costume.
HAVE A PUMPKINCARVING PARTY
Because there are so many new “pumpkin spice” products on the market, we often forget the sheer joy of carving these festive members of the genus Cucurbita family and trashing one’s home in the process. Recently, I threw a party where guests turned pumpkin-carving into an art form. I made a “Trumpkin,” simply by gluing a bad wig to the pumpkin. Aside from mopping, the only real effort required when throwing a pumpkin
PHOTO BY JOHN FOSTER
Rev. Jen on the Cape with King Foster, who daringly wears a Yankees cap while commandeering the waters of Massachusetts.
party is finding pumpkins. Traipsing three blocks and finding none, I sat down for a drink at Lucky Jack’s (129 Orchard St.) where I noticed the chef from Black Tree, (131 Orchard St.) taking a break. Frenzied, I ran outside and asked him where all the pumpkins had gone. Graciously, he then gave me one. Go there because the food is good, but also because they gave me a pumpkin.
WATCH FOOTBALL AT GRAYSON
Really, the only good thing about October is football, my favorite excuse for sitting on my ass and yelling
at the television. A lot of chicks don’t dig football, and I will never understand why, given it features hot men in tight pants playing with balls. Having grown up around the Beltway, I have the great misfortune of being a Redskins fan, and yes, the slanderous name should be changed. Because everything in D.C., down to the last square of toilet paper, is now named after Reagan, they’ll probably just call them “The Reagans,” but I suggest they call them “The Hogs” in honor of the nickname given to the Skins’ early ’80s offensive line (football trivia!). These days, I spend most Sunday and Monday nights watching my favorite team lose at Grayson (16 First Ave.) where my dear friend, Matt, (formerly from Lucky Jack’s) now bartends. Go there and over-tip him, because his cat just died. Upon writing this, I have had a catharsis normally only induced by Willie Nelson songs, and am suddenly crying. I’m not wise, especially when I’m watching football. I’m also not one to give advice, not even to myself, but here goes: Don’t take one second of this shitshow for granted. Try to look at the stupid, asshole fall foliage and not think about the impending hell of another Polar Vortex and your radiator not working. Think about the warmth of the person next to you. Give them a (not creepy) kiss, and tell them you love them. October 15, 2015
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Adam Purple and me; Fond radical remembrances PURPLE continued from p. 17
neighborhood. Most (not all) of those rallying around the housing project were the older Puerto Rican and Dominican residents. One of the most aggressive boosters of the project (and opponent of the garden) was Margarita Lopez, then head of the Lower East Side Joint Planning Council. This was a body that coordinated low-income housing nonprofits (derided as “poverty pimps” by us anarchists) with the city bureaucracy, a pillar of the local machine. Advocates of the housing project baited Adam as a loner, and said his productive artwork wasn’t really a community garden. And while he did share his produce and had some volunteers helping him out, it was very much his vision. (Earlier, before my time, there had been an Eve Purple — don’t know where she is now — and a coterie of young Purple People who looked to the couple as gurus.) The housing project is there today, with the antiseptic name of Lower East Side Infill 1. It is more human-scale than many such projects around the city, but numbingly sterile, and (of course) bristling with
security cameras. It is the cultural antithesis of Adam’s intricate spiral garden, which was a living embodiment of the ethic of “building a new society in the vacant lots of the old.” In addition to his unswerving vegetarianism, Adam scrupulously refused to even set foot in an automobile. He would have no part of the petrochemical system at all. And even as a bicyclist, he always rode against the traffic, as a kind of statement. (He also said it was safer.) As far as I know, he never got ticketed for it. For me, Adam was making a real statement about human survival in the industrial age. (He called his extensive archive of journalism about the garden and his own esoteric writings the Species Survival Library — and foremost among the species he meant was our own.) When I began writing about him for the (now-defunct) East Village weekly Downtown, where I did a column on city environmental issues, I made the point that his intransigent personal stance conveyed a needed sense of urgency. Technocrats at the big enviro groups were putting out white papers on the impacts of burning fossil fuels and dumping sewage at sea
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October 15, 2015
— while continuing, day after day, to drive cars and s--- in toilets. Adam continued to hang on in his old building facing Forsyth St. where he’d lived for nearly 30 years (most of that time squatting, although he considered himself a legal tenant), until finally the city evicted him to build housing for the deaf on the site around 1999. He did get a payout from the city government, in recognition of his legal tenancy. He left the city for a while, but returned — drifting, on the edge of society. After 9/11, a group calling itself the New York Psychogeographical Association issued a statement calling for Adam to be named official Ground Zero gardener — and for a new Garden of Eden to rise at the site instead of skyscrapers. I took up this call, and had an opinion piece pushing the proposal in Newsday in 2002. I put Adam on WBAI radio, where I was then a producer, to plug the idea. Of course, I knew it was completely “unrealistic,” but I felt it was important to propagate, as a critique of the Cult of Giganticism and a reminder that other development models are possible. And then in 2005, I made my faux pas that I don’t think Adam ever really forgave me for. Starting with the previous year’s Republican National Convention protests, the N.Y.P.D. had launched a big crackdown on the Critical Mass bicycle rides. We took up the slogan “Still We Ride” to express our determination to be recognized as having a right to the road. And weekly public rallies in support of Critical Mass were held at Union Square, under the name “Still We Speak.” Political figures who came out to support us included fighting attorney Norman Siegel, Reverend Al Sharpton — and Margarita Lopez, by then city councilmember for the Lower East Side. So when I heard they’d invited Adam to speak at one of the rallies, I had a slight foreboding of trouble. When I got up to Union Square that afternoon, Adam (no longer wearing purple, since the destruction of his garden) was waiting alongside the stage, looking dejected. I wish I had picked up on that, but I didn’t. I thought Margarita was going to be there, too (she wasn’t, it turned out), since she’d spoken at the previous week’s rally. And I knew Adam had never forgiven her. Half in jest, I said, “Adam, do me a favor — when you speak, don’t diss Margartia.” I didn’t anticipate his response. Without a word, he hopped on his bike and pedaled out of there, headed back to the Lower East Side.
He never spoke to me again after that. A few days later, I sought him out at the (now gone) Tres Aztecas Mexican restaurant on Allen St. The folks there had taken him in, feeding him rice and beans for his help around the kitchen. I apologized, told him that what I’d said had been “very un-anarchistic.” At this he nodded vigorously, but he wouldn’t say a word or look at me. Adding to my chagrin, the next week’s Villager had a photo of Lopez with her arm around Mayor Mike Bloomberg (author of the Critical Mass crackdown) as they schmoozed over the East River Park redevelopment plan. Later, she would endorse Bloomberg for re-election, then get a post in his administration. I came to bitterly regret my words. In the decade after that, I’d wave at Adam when we passed each other on our bicycles, and he’d wave back. But never a word — not even to return my “hello.” After MoRUS opened (on the ground floor of C Squat, on Avenue C), I saw my chance to reconcile with Adam. At the big inaugural party for the museum in December 2012, Adam was brought in to speak. By this time, he was crashing at the Williamsburg space of the urban environmental group Time’s Up, whose leadership overlaps with that of the MoRUS. I saw my opportunity to show Adam some love and respect, and maybe atone for my old error. I got there just as he was supposed to speak, having figured that would be well in advance — Lower East Side activist events typically run behind schedule. Wouldn’t you know this was the one time they were actually ahead of schedule? I arrived minutes after Adam had left. I never got another chance. On Sept. 14 , Adam died at the age of 84 — apparently of a heart attack while bicycling over the Williamsburg Bridge. I think the fact he died on his bicycle is appropriate. On Sat., Sept. 26, there was a memorial for Adam, with artifacts of his life and works on display at MoRUS and testimonials around the corner in La Plaza Cultural. It was announced that he’d been given a chemical-free “green burial,” at a place that provides such services in Upstate’s Tompkins County. It is again fitting that Adam was himself composted. I wish he could have heard me say in life what I said of him at the memorial — that he was one of the few true revolutionaries that I have known, and that I loved and respected the hell out of him. Adam Purple, you tough, stubborn, infinitely idealistic old coot. You sure were hardcore. EastVillagerNews.com
EastVillagerNews.com
October 15, 2015
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Praising Purple at memorial at garden PURPLE PRAISE continued from p. 4
ecutive director of Time’s Up, who spread the news. Jacques said he had been among a group of people who went into Purple’s building back in 1999 right before the city demolished it, which is how he knew about him. Carmine D’Intino, a longtime friend of Purple’s who lived with him at various times, hailed him as an “hombre de la calle — a man of the streets.” “People wouldn’t harm him when he walked down the street,” he said. D’Intino then broke into a heartfelt a cappella rendition of “When I’m Gone,” by the late protest singer Phil Ochs. “Adam was sort of the living embodiment of the principle that lands that are abandoned by the landlords return to the inhabitants of the area,” said journalist Bill Weinberg, who leads tours of the neighborhood’s radical history. “Adam’s garden was going to continue to expand indefinitely to the other blocks and the neighborhood and through the city,” Weinberg said. “Very visionary — or very eccentric — depending on your point of view.” As they were gathered in the tranquil green space at La Plaza, featuring four towering trees, two of them graceful willows, Weinberg contrasted its fate with that of the Garden of Eden. Although the city succeed in razing Purple’s garden in the middle of winter in 1986, the next year it was a different story when La Plaza, at E. Ninth St. and Avenue C, was similarly targeted for housing, Weinberg recalled. “The community organized — and we won,” he said, as the crowd applauded. But Purple wasn’t perfect, noted Marlis Momber, the veteran Lower East Side photographer. She noted that he opposed abortion, sending a ripple of disapproval through the listeners. He wouldn’t let her take his photo at first, she said. And don’t forget the legendary female gardeners, she added, referring to Carmen Pabon, “The Mother Teresa of the Lower East Side,” who used to feed the homeless at her garden on Avenue C. In his turn at the microphone, Morales, while holding purple flowers, said, “Adam was the most thoroughgoing revolutionary I ever met — the politics of s---! He was so diverse in his interests, he was so wide. Emerson, Whitman, Buddha, Jesus, Marx... Groucho...he was all of it, and he was so incisive. “I’m still in denial,” he said of the larger-than-life figure’s passing. “It’s good to see the family,” he told the tight-knit activist crowd gathered in the garden. Maria Batas was a School of Visual Arts student when she interviewed Purple years ago for a project and was blown away by the encounter. “He was intellectual, funny, very cryptic and had a lot to say,” she said. “He was a genius.” Chris Flash, publisher of The SHADOW, called Purple an “urban survivalist.” “He showed me how to make soil from manure and sawdust,” he said. “In winter, I was with him once and I was freezing, and he was just wearing a T-shirt. I admire him living on his own terms — stubborn, curmudgeon.” Larry Friedman was a student at Stuyvesant High School when he moved into Purple’s building at 184 Forsyth St., paying around $50 a month for oil to heat his stove. “I had oil and we had water,” he recalled, “and he was working on electricity. He stole electricity from the street — and we had electricity. I studied with
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October 15, 2015
Purple footprints led from the garden memorial along Avenue C to the Museum of Reclaimed Urban Space, a block away, where Adam Purple newspaper clippings, photos, videos and other memorabilia, including George Bliss’s purple footprint machine, were on display.
the stove for warmth and the top flames for light.” Living with Purple in the crime-ridden war zone of the Lower East Side back then, helped toughen up the teen. Friedman had grown up in public housing in Inwood but had to leave his family situation. At first, for protection, he slept against his door, which didn’t have a lock yet. “When I was afraid of the junkies, he said, ‘Listen to the crickets.’ Now there were crickets in the backyard,” Friedman recalled of the garden’s magic. “He said, ‘When the crickets stop making noise, someone’s in the garden.’” Friedman, today a physician’s assistant at Beth Israel Hospital, also changed his diet due to Purple. “He took in a kid who didn’t know from vegetarians,” he said. “Now I’m a vegetarian.” Friedman had unique insight into Purple from living with him. He saw one of the gardening icon’s relationships flame out. “There was Eve I and Eve II,” he noted. “Eve I started dancing topless. She wanted to make money for their daughter, Nova Dawn, and move away. She did it. I heard her say, ‘I made $1,000 last night!’ My girlfriends didn’t have to babysit anymore because she moved away. That was the only time I heard them fight.” Then there was what Friedman dubbed “The Year of the Weed.” Pointing to one of the rings on the Garden of Eden drawing on the ground, he said, “It was all weed. The police came and filled up their car with the weed. They had to get a paddy wagon, too. The
junkies were running in and grabbing plants, dropping dirt. Cops would chase after them. It was hilarious!” Describing the garden, he said, “Every year it would be the colors of the rainbow coming out. In the middle was the purple, and this was the green circle,” he said, pointing to one of the rings. “Do people know these things? Maybe someone should write a book.” Friedman added that, to get other tenements around him torn down, so that he could expand the garden, Purple had Friedman’s student friends from Stuyvesant sign petitions to the city saying that the buildings were filled with drug dealers — which was probably true. Daniel Bowman Simon has posted Purple’s book, “Life with les(s) ego,” online. It’s more of a scrapbook of Purple’s writings, along with newspaper articles about him and the Garden of Eden and even his college report card, sporting mostly “A” ’s. Also included are letters of support for the garden from the likes of poet Allen Ginsberg, former Cultural Affairs Commissioner Bess Myerson and renowned architect James Polshek. “It offers practical benefits to the people of the Lower East Side: beauty in a bleak place, communal harmony, something the neighborhood cares for, even a little food,” Ginsberg wrote about the garden to Mayor Ed Koch in October 1984. “It is a humane development in the city. In architectural and economic terms, it seems The Garden can be preserved. Please consider all this and communicate your sentiments to the necessary agencies.” Simon found a copy of the book in The New School’s library and has posted it at 596acres.org. Outside the memorial event at the garden, purple footprints led down the sidewalk along Avenue C to the Museum of Reclaimed Urban Space (MoRUS) one block away, where a “Purple Pop-Up Show” — recently extended — is being held. Watching vintage video of Purple at MoRUS was George Bliss, who, in the 1980s, to raise awareness about the embattled garden, laid down 40 miles of purple footprints around the city leading back to Forsyth St. Among the videos was one of Purple and Bliss being interviewed by Regis and Kathie Lee, with Regis in his clipped tones trying to get to the bottom of the housing vs. garden conflict. “Because it was circular, it posed a threat,” Purple explained. “The birds, bees and insects came back.” Another video showed Purple busily trundling a wheelbarrow up and down ramps in a rubble-cleared space in the growing garden, and burning wood in a fire to create potash, to add to the new soil. “Incredible. I’ve never seen this,” Bliss marveled. As for the footprints, the original machine he used to make them — a drum barrel with footshaped sponges, behind which Bliss drilled out holes — sat on display in a corner of the museum. Bliss would foray out at 3 a.m. with the barrel hidden inside a shopping cart that he would roll along the sidewalk. An earlier prototype — tubes running down the inside of his pant legs — was a bust, because the purple paint would create a puddle when he had to wait for the light at crosswalks. Even after the garden was gone, Bliss doggedly continued plastering the city with the footprints. “After the destruction,” he said, “I was even more determined to have the media cover it, as a way to force them to tell the story.” EastVillagerNews.com
William Electric Black and Laurie Cumbo, fifth and sixth from left, joined L.E.S. Girls Club Moms Speak Out members at the “A Gun Is Not Fun” campaign launch.
Moms throw the book at gun violence
O
n Oct. 1 mothers and young women from the Lower Eastside Girls Club’s Moms Speak Out campaign — women who have been affected by gun violence — gathered outside P.S. 188, at E. Houston St. near Avenue D. They were joined by Councilmember Laurie Cumbo and peace advocates from Middle Collegiate Church to launch the distribution of 3,500 copies of William Electric Black’s illustrated early reader “A Gun Is Not Fun.” Black a.k.a. Ian James is an Emmy Award-winning former writer of “Sesame Street.” “I wrote this book because we are losing too many young people of color to gun violence,” he said. “It is a plague facing our nation. So I decided to use
the ‘Sesame Street’ target audience and start educating them about this timely, and too-often deadly, issue.” Among those at the event was Arlene Delgado, whose son Raphael Sadonte Ward, Jr., 16, was killed by a neighbor, also 16, in January 2013, at Rivington and Columbia Sts., a block away from Ward’s home in the Baruch Houses. During October, Moms Speak Out members plan to distribute “A Gun Is Not Fun” in front of every public school and daycare center with pre-K through second-grade classes in the East Village / Lower East Side community. Cumbo chairs the Council’s Women’s Issues Committee and is a member of the Youth Services and Public
Housing Committee. “I’m so happy that this publication has been produced,” she said. “This is an issue that starts at a very young age.” Reverend Jacqui Lewis is founder and executive director of The Middle Project, which prepares ethical leaders for a more just society. “It is unacceptable to us that our children are growing up in a culture where violence has become the norm on the streets and in the media,” she said. Said Lyn Pentecost, Girls Club executive director, “We believe that it is never too early to create a climate of peace! We’re starting now and we’re starting here — in our own Lower East Side community.”
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A front row seat on Whitey Bulger trial BY JACK BROWN
D
istinguished crime journalist and Village resident T.J. English has written an authoritative and entertaining account of the rise and fall of Boston’s notorious former crime in his new book, “Where the Bodies Were Buried: Whitey Bulger And the World That Made Him” (HarperCollins). The year 2013 was a gut-wrenching one for Boston. There was a terrorist bombing near the finish line of the marathon in April. The trial of 16-year fugitive gangster James “Whitey” Bulger began June 12. The trial dredged up and exhumed the depraved parade of heinous crimes committed by Bulger and his associates. But perhaps there was no greater offense committed against the people than that by the Department of Justice itself. Joe Salvati did 30 years in jail for a murder he and three other victims of the Confidential Informant EastVillagerNews.com
Program did not commit. Salvati was convicted by the bogus testimony of Joe “The Animal” Barboza in September 1967. The ends-justify-the means approach was to dismantle the New England Mafia. In fact, Bulger, like Barboza, was a top-echelon confidential informant. “The prosecutors wanted it to appear as if what happened to Joe Salvati had nothing to do with Whitey Bulger,” English writes. “Perhaps the entire criminal justice system was a grand illusion.” Teresa Bond, who was a young girl when her father, Bucky Barrett, was murdered, got to Bulger with forgiveness during an impact statement uttered with near kindness. “I just want you to know that I don’t hate you,” she said. “I hate the choices our government has made in allowing you to rule the streets and perform horrific acts of evil.” Bulger — who, in fact, disliked being called Whitey — and his brother Billy dominated Boston politics and crime
for more than 20 years. Billy became one of Massachusetts’ most powerful politicians, serving from 1978-96 as state Senate president. With his C.I. F.B.I status, his brother’s influence and his control of the gang, Bulger seemingly hovered above the law. And he took full advantage. English uses the trial as his format and diverges to provide historical and biographical background and penetrating insight. His writing is fair, balanced and authoritative. He also employs a wry sense of humor. He refers to Billy O’Shea, a trusted former Bulger business associate, as “Kermit the Frog’s aging Irish Uncle.” Some agents, like handlers H. Paul Rico and John Connolly, come from the same social milieu as Bulger. They readily become thick as thieves. They also wind up in jail — Connolly, a seeming scapegoat to F.B.I damage control. But as English concludes, “The system protects itself.” Which begs the question: What is needed to protect “We the People” from the system? October 15, 2015
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