On the Federal Buildings and Statistics

Photo by myself near the World Trade Center at the corner of Church and Vesey Streets.

Just across from the World Trade Center, this mammoth limestone building at 90 Church Street suffered extensive interior damage from the 9/11 attacks.

There is a US Post Office on the ground floor. Federal offices are located on the upper floors.

--
You know it's reassuring that at any moment of any day, you can get the statistics for homicides in New York City (this entails all 5 boroughs, mind you, not Manhattan alone).

Right on the first page of the Metro section of the Times, is the link to an interactive map. We've had 299 homicides this year. Hooray.

Turns out, you're most prone to be killed if you're an African-American male, between 18 and 34 years old. And your killer is likely to be an African-American male between 18 and 24 years old. You're also most prone to be killed at night, during the summer in Brooklyn.

Each homicide is marked with a dot on the map. It's incredible to move your mouse over the map, showing what each little dot symbolizes - a victim, a killer, a motive and a weapon.

Please note that despite this information, New York is rather safe! Don't change your travel plans! New York has come a long, long way from how it was in the 1970s, when people couldn't walk through any public parks. I have not had a problem in all my 10+ years in New York.

New Yorkers, if you're curious about your neighborhood, the map allows you to zoom in to see the cross streets of each dot.

For the interactive Times homicide map, click here.

Related posts: On the World Trade Center and My Big Toe, Night View at the World Trade Center and Salvaged from the World Trade Center.

Read more...

NYPD in Action, Underground

Photo by myself at the subway station at 34th Street.

A couple policemen pinned a man down on the ground, Wednesday afternoon. The man's girlfriend stood nearby. The other man, standing, was one of many bystanders.

It was not clear what had happened, just moments before.

--
New York City is nothing like how it used to be. The parks used to be drug-riddled, the subways fearful. People never parked nice cars on the street, for fear of finding smashed windows and stolen radios.

Related posts: Police Line, Do Not Cross, Heigh-Ho and Policing the Subway, Midtown.

Read more...

On a Public Mugging Or, A Gimmick Gone Wrong

Photo by myself at Shoemania, at 14th Street and Broadway.

--
Mark and I both had a day off yesterday, so we went to Shoemania just off Union Square.

Shoemania has a dizzying number of shoes and full height glass doors that open out to Broadway. When we arrived, there was a large crowd on the sidewalk and some guys taking photographs with professional cameras. Some people in the crowd looked sketchy. A few were dressed in red jackets and caps. I assumed it was a political rally, since Union Square is often the site for such things.

As we browsed for shoes, the crowd outside became antsier, moving up the sidewalk and down again. Every time a downtown bus stopped on the corner, more guys in red stepped out and the crowd surged. I heard someone say that the people in the crowd 'wanted their money' and so I assumed it was a labor strike.

Suddenly there was some shouting and commotion. It was nerve wracking, even though there were more than enough shoe salesmen and security guards around. People in red shouted on bullhorns. Then the crowd broke up and surged north to Union Square.

It turns out that we'd witnessed a silly publicity stunt by a website called Cash Tomato. It was February 29, and at 2:29 employees dressed in red were planning to handing out free money - bags containing twenty-nine dollars cash and tomatoes.

What the company didn't figure was that the crowd would attack the tomato-bearers and make off with all the cash, about four thousand dollars total. Someone was basically mugged in full daylight in front of a whole crowd of witnesses.

I'd never heard of Cash Tomato before, which turns out to be less successful version of You Tube. My guess is that most of the crowd hadn't heard of the site either, except that there was free money involved.

News of the giveaway must have spread by word of mouth among those that needed the money. Some just wanted it more than others.

Read more...

On the Recent Snow, et al.

Photo by myself last week of the snow in Union Square. About five inches came down.

--
Some updates:
1. We had a bunch of snow last week. So much that when the subway pulled up to the platform Friday morning, there was snow on the roof, and water was cascading down the stainless steel walls. The train looked like it just landed from outer space.

I would have taken a photo but I was already late for work.

2. Louie, the orange cat rescued from an abandoned futon on a Brooklyn street, has made tremendous progress. His foster mom wrote to tell me he's sleeping in bed with her and her other two cats. I hope to get pictures of him soon.

3. There seems to be a sudden spurt of crime in the news here. We had the crazy murder of the psychologist last week, then the shooting of a man in Murray Hill this morning. Murray Hill is known for being a sleepy neighborhood of tall co-op buildings, where nothing much happens. Hm.

Just now, the trial for the Nixzmary Brown case is underway, in which a 7-year old Brooklyn girl apparently died from abuse suffered from her mother and stepfather. Also beginning is the trial for the Sean Bell case, where New York cops used 50 bullets to kill an unarmed man in Queens the night before his wedding.

On the other hand, New York seems safer than ever. New Yorkers park their fancy cars out on the streets without worry. We walk about late at night without overwhelming fear or pepper spray.

So what does this recent barrage with bad news mean?

I don't know. I hope to come up with a theory, or a way of processing it neatly in my head. So far, it's just a jumble of scary things.

Read more...

Case Closed

Photo by myself in Union Square.

This character, the late Joe Ades, is was well-known for his continuous spiel, hawking carrot peelers and drawing a crowd. His British accent and craggy looks remind me of Gandalf.

--
Fortunately for us all, it looks like the police made their man: the person responsible for stabbing Upper East Side psychologist Kathryn Faughey seems to have been nabbed last night.

Phew. New Yorkers can breathe a huge sigh of relief.

The kooks we live alongside can continue to act mildly kooky in comparison to this very troubled man. Apparently David Tarloff was a former patient of Faughey's. He'd planned on robbing the doctor and running off with his mother, which explains the bags of womens clothing and adult diapers left at the crime scene. Tarloff confessed he was enraged at whomever had had him institutionalized 17 years ago. The police still don't have the story straight.

I googled Faughey last night and the website for her private practice came up. It was eerie and sad.

How many of you would like to bet that we'll see this crime on Law and Order in the near future?

On a happier note, since it's sunny, Mark, Clive and I plan to drive out to the tip of Lawn Guyland today. I'll post some nice photos when I return!


For an earlier post on Law and Order, click here.

Read more...

Beware of the Kooks

Photo by myself in Greenpoint, Brooklyn.

There are a surprising number of bars in this little neighborhood.

--
The shocking, brutal murder of a NY psychologist on the Upper East Side has been all over the local news. Last week, a 56-year old doctor was attacked in her office with a meat cleaver. The killer left bags full of knives, womens' clothing and adult diapers at the scene.

People joke that NYers are nuts. Woody Allen didn't help our image, playing very anxious and very New York characters in his movies.

I don't disagree. Many New Yorkers are open about their mental health, and it's quite accepted to be seeking help. One of my bosses openly announces when he's off to his shrink. Sadly, not everyone who needs has enough funds or awareness to seek it. I've met people here who could frankly use some form of therapy.

Two such people lived in my last building on the Upper West Side, a small, five-floor walk-up. One woman seemed to have a persecution complex. She'd open her door just a crack if you knocked, and shout for you to back away from the door.

The other woman must have had a social disorder that made her walk around with a visor pulled over her eyes and carry a piece of paper directly in front of her face. Both women looked like they'd never had their hair cut.

Unfortunately, I got on the bad side of Crazy Woman II. She slid angry, hand-written notes under my door, accusing me of bounding, heavy-footed, down the stairs. Somehow she thought that I walked like elephants hurling bowling balls. She advised me to downsize the high heels I must have worn because of my petite stature, forgetting the 6-foot-6 giant that lived one floor above me.

At one point, Crazy Woman I and Crazy Woman II were angry with one another. I thought I'd witness a Godzilla-Rodan battle, but before the first crazy stone could be lobbed, Crazy Woman II moved out.

Anyway, the recent murder is terribly disturbing. After watching a news segment on the woman's funeral, Mark said, 'There are a lot of crazy people in this city.'

Read more...

Life on the Edge of a Very Big Precipice (in My Little Head)

Late last night, there was a skirmish outside Mark's building. A man and a woman were fighting in raised voices. I couldn't make out any distinct words, but the tones were angry and hurried.

Instinctively, I moved from the couch to the middle of the room, away from the windows. I've seen too many stories on NY1 about people getting hit by stray bullets. Call me paranoid, but I could just see anchorman Pat Kiernan reporting about me the next morning (over and over and over).

Greenpoint is the last place you'd think something bad would ever happen. A mix of older, working class families and the new younger crowd, it's generally a sleepy place, unlike its hipper, pricier sister, Williamsburg. There are a lot of drunks, a lot of bars and a lot of churches.

Mark said,'I'm going to tell them I'm calling the police.' He tied up the garbage, zipped up his jacket, and slithered downstairs.

'&*@#(!?' I thought. '#$*@!??!'

New York isn't dangerous these days, but the possibility of danger remains. Pockets of danger are limited to the sketchier neighborhoods. It's extremely rare to know people who've been mugged or attacked.

A guy in my building on the Upper West Side had been mugged. I'd heard the BANG of the entry door four flights down. When I ran into him in the hall, he said someone tried to force his way into the vestibule as he was getting in. Frantically, he'd gotten the entry door open in time to save himself.



An acquaintance had her purse snatched by a passing car in Spanish Harlem. My friend Nancy had her apartment burgled in Fort Greene, Brooklyn. She'd come home one day to find the door hanging off its hinges. She lived on a nice street, but it was a few blocks from the sketchy part of town.

I'd witnessed a stabbing victim when I first moved here, a bike theft in broad daylight, and a guy with his pants pulled down at the 23rd Street N/R subway station. Of course there still are regular con artists who've 'lost their wallets', or help people with luggage and then demand money. Those don't count in my book.

Even though it's relatively safe, I know things happen. I've heard of women being attacked or abducted and people being pushed into oncoming trains. At the slightest inkling of danger, my instinct kicks in. I am the biggest, paranoid chicken of them all. The crazy ranting weirdos on the subway make my palms sweat. I don't walk down streets that look too deserted. I am occasionally spooked out in my own apartment.

I heard Mark's voice outside and then the other voices subsided. He came up a minute later saying, 'Heroin addicts,' and requested a hug.

'I feel sorry for those people. They were really messed up.'

I closed my eyes, relieved.


For an earlier post about New York before it got itself spiffed up, click here.

Photo by myself, near Grand Central Terminal.

Read more...

Urban Legends

We were out the other day at the Bowery Bar for drinks. It was a beautiful afternoon, perfect for sitting outside. The three-day weekend was just ahead, with summer tagging along after it. The mood was cheerful and relaxed.

Above the garden wall, the sky was filled with a huge crane. There have been concerns about the economy but all signs in New York are optimistic. There has never been so much construction.

Everywhere you turn, something is coming down and something else is taking its place. The Bowery, for instance, always the symbol of sketchiness, is undergoing a major facelift. There’s a new hotel and swanky bar that everyone’s talking about. Skinny glass condo buildings are popping up alongside the shlubby tenaments still selling restaurant equipment.

Throughout Brooklyn, the skeletons of future buildings are everywhere. It’s most obvious when you’re on the BQE, which winds along the edge of Brooklyn: Brooklyn Heights, Williamsburg, Greenpoint, Long Island City. It is all happening everywhere and all at once.

Now that New York is no longer a dangerous place to be, there’s no end in sight. There will never be a shortage of people who want to live here, or own a little place to stay on their visits. The Times reported recently that the median monthly rent for a one-bedroom is $2500. On television, I’d heard it was $2900. Whatever it is, the cost of living for a young person just starting their career is prohibitive, unless subsidized by parents or sharing a Brooklyn loft with multiple roommates.

I have a theory that Law and Order could not get on the air until 1990, because by that time, the dangers of New York were more myth than reality. Its producer, Dick Wolf, spent thirteen years getting the show to television, where it now has a small empire. The early episodes capitalized on urban legends like waking up in hotel room without a kidney . Back then, New York was mythic and tinged with danger, but no one considered it entertainment until danger no longer lurked outside.

Everyone who’s lived here a while has his or her war stories. Alphabet City is a popular setting, or Washington Square Park, or simply the subway. The city had been littered with needles, bums and graffiti. Times Square was as uninviting as it is today, but not because it was an overwhelming tourist trap. It was a desolate, scary place to be.

My first summer here, I encountered a man lying on the sidewalk, who'd been stabbed near the Pennsylvania Hotel. It was just after lunch, and I was on a coffee run for my boss. It was my initiation to the hazards of the city and the finer shades of coffee (‘dark’, I learned the hard way, is wholly different from ‘black’).

The contrast between then and now could not be more striking. Now you can get an ‘Iced Decaf Triple Grande Vanilla Non-fat Latte’ on every corner, without fear of walking down the street. But affording an apartment here is another story altogether.

Read more...