New York Gritty

When I read about C. Everett Koop’s death I couldn’t help but smile. Not because he had passed on (at the age of 96), but because of the unique memory I have of the one time we met.

I was a trade reporter and Koop a retired U.S. Surgeon General on the speaking circuit when I ran into him at a corporate cocktail party over a decade ago. He was already in his 80s but looked about 20 years younger, unlined and sturdily built.

I knew that Dr. Koop was the first to alert the American public about the dangers of smoking, to the chagrin and fury of the tobacco industry. His campaign inspired millions of people to quit, saving thousands of lives annually. I wanted to meet this man.

When I strolled over to introduce myself, Koop grasped my hand with two of his and asked where I was from. When I responded “Brooklyn,” he grinned and said “I’m a Brooklyn boy too” and we were off and running.

We talked about Coney Island, Nathan’s Famous, Prospect Park and other Brooklyn landmarks, and the fun each of our generations had at these borough treasures. Koop believed Coney Island’s Steeplechase (purchased then demolished by Donald Trump’s father Fred in the mid-60s) was “the best amusement park in history” and told of his fascination with a particular, notorious exhibit.

As each unsuspecting young woman would exit one Steeplechase attraction, a mischievous dwarf in a sailor suit would shoot a stream of air up her dress, sending it billowing over her head, Marilyn Monroe style. This beguiled young C. Everett, who pinpointed this as the moment he became fascinated with anatomy.

We talked on, about Sheepshead Bay and Flatbush (where we both lived) until we went our separate ways. My boss immediately came up to me. “What were you guys talking about for half an hour?” he demanded to know.

I responded with the truthful, single word answer: Brooklyn.

I just read The New York Times obituary of Koop. They solemnly reported that young C. Everett first became interested in anatomy and medicine by “watching his family doctor at work as a child.”

Right.

Rest in peace, Brooklyn boy.

Freshly made tacos! Halal chicken! Korean barbeque! Most of us can agree that the tantalizing smells and delicious tastes emanating from the ever-growing number of food trucks filling our streets have provided a real service to us economically strapped, on-the-go New Yorkers.

We can also all agree that the smell of raw sewage is a tad less tantalizing.

These polar opposite elements came together in midtown last week.

When a horrendous cloud of stinky steam started pouring from a grate on the corner of 8th and 56th, it brought back the days when the neighborhood was called Hell’s Kitchen instead of its current trendy Clinton designation__because those living/working there were indeed going through hell, gasping and choking at the awful stench that haunted their days and nights.

The city’s intrepid Department of Environmental Protection send out a squad of carefully selected olfactory-challenged investigators, who basically said “Odor? What odor?” stunning the gasping locals, many of whom were pulling their scarves up over their noses in a desperate attempt not to faint as the fecal/chemical fumes permeated their nostrils and clothing.

What was the source of this putrid witch’s brew? A few residents braved the stench and stared down the sewer grate, where they saw an ominous, floating oily substance.

When Con Ed was called out, they discovered that their transmitter vault deep under the grate was indeed coated in an oily pool of guck.

“We determined that cooking grease was the culprit,” said Con Ed spokesman Allan Drury. “Someone dumped cooking grease into the vent.”

Witnesses came forward saying that they had seen a food truck operator doing the dirty deed. But it seems he’s not alone.

“Dumping grease down the Con Ed ventilation grates is common practice along and near Broadway, where numerous mobile food vending trucks park on the sidewalk 24/7,” says Pete Davies, a contributing editor at Curbed, adding that they never seem to return to the commissary to clean up as mandated.

This noxious practice of dumping oil down sewer grates has been going on for years. But the residents of Hell’s Kitchen (ok, Clinton) are now raising their own big stink, determined to never relive this nightmare again.

We’ve become accustomed to these delicious, low priced and pungent meals on wheels. But until the city puts some meaningful__and enforceable__regulations in place regarding the food trucks (beside chasing them from spot to spot), I’m afraid we will increasingly be following the advice of songwriter Loudon Wainwright as the M104 bus slowly wends its way down Broadway:

Take a whiff on me–that ain’t no rose
Roll up your windows and hold your nose!

As we say goodbye to another “once in a century” storm, it’s high time to confront a new, disturbing reality. While New York City averaged just about a foot of snow from Nemo (when did we start naming snowstorms?), Commack, Long Island wasn’t so lucky, with two-and-a-half feet of snow and 80 mph wind gusts.

“We dodged a bullet this time,” said NYC Mayor Mike Bloomberg.

Yes we did. Snow in February isn’t big news and we’ve certainly had fierce storms before, but never this severe and this often. As NY Governor Andrew Cuomo succinctly put it “We have ‘storms of the century’ every two years now.” And if we don’t address this new reality soon, last fall’s “once in a lifetime” disaster will seem like child’s play.

During Superstorm Sandy much of Manhattan below 34th Street resembled Venice. Doomsday projections of New York completely submerged under water are no longer exclusively the province of apocalyptic filmmakers but serious weather scientists as well.

Such extremes as severe snowstorms, freakish hurricanes, unprecedented heat waves, droughts and flooding are increasingly common. The Earth is warming to dangerous levels and oceans are rising. A warmer atmosphere holds more water vapor which supplies more energy for severe storms. That’s not an opinion, that’s a fact we must squarely face.

So why don’t we? Did someone say politics?

“President Obama has promised to begin to slow the rise of the oceans,” said Mitt Romney with a snide smile as attendees at last year’s GOP nominating convention burst into laughter. It’s less than reassuring when a group that controls our Congress and laws mocks efforts to stop a calamity.

Former GOP governor Mike Castle said “I believe my Republican Party needs to do a much better job of examining the overwhelming scientific evidence about man-made global warming and climate change.”

The result of his honesty? Castle lost Delaware’s GOP 2010 Senate primary to alleged witch/Tea Party mascot Christine O’Donnell. Double double toil and trouble indeed.

The party of Lincoln and Eisenhower is, in the words of Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal, not just “in danger of becoming the stupid party” but has clearly achieved that title. Sorry, but it’s no accident that the states with the ten highest education levels all went Democratic last fall and the ten states with the lowest education levels Republican. Those who deny climate change and evolution and view science the way the church did hundreds of years ago are unfortunately in charge of our destiny, at least in Congress.

We can only do so much here in New York to address these weather-related calamities waiting to happen, and need the federal government to take climate change/global warming seriously and make it a priority.

Staten Island can’t bear another Sandy this year. And while some red state, landlocked GOPers may scoff at (or even welcome) New York City becoming Atlantis, we must do everything in our power to battle the flat-earthers and demand strong, preventative measures be taken__now.
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Film Review: Silver Linings Playbook (click Arts above)

Ed Koch was so alive it’s hard to believe he’s dead.

The quintessential New Yorker, Koch may have been the last of our old time city politicians.

Koch paid his dues and rose through the ranks, schmoozing his way up until becoming New York’s most popular mayor since Fiorello LaGuardia. It’s almost impossible to imagine Koch running an Obama-style internet campaign for office.

Love or hate him, you always felt like Koch was one of us. Whatever you think of Mayor Bloomberg, can anyone honestly say the same about him?

Koch was brash, opinionated and sometimes outright rude. My only personal experience with him was when I was a NYC public school teacher and asked to step in for our ailing union rep at a teacher’s day luncheon, with the Mayor on the dais.

Wearing a lime green sportscoat, Koch yawned theatrically as a Board of Ed member droned on, eventually resting his head on the table.

Later in life, he called Donald Trump “piggy” and the NY Times’ Thomas Friedman “a pompous ass.” Can’t really argue with either assessment.

Koch helped New York dig out of its financial crisis and was instrumental in rebuilding the South Bronx and ending the 1980 transit strike. He also was criticized for not doing enough during the AIDS crisis and for being racially polarizing.

Still and all, Al Sharpton said Koch was “never a phony or a hypocrite. You always knew where you stood with the man.”

When Koch ran against Mario Cuomo for governor, his bluntness helped do him in, turning off voters who didn’t live in the city. Koch described suburban living as “sterile, numb, a wasted life.” He also mocked those dwelling in rural areas and capped it by saying living in Albany would be “a fate worse than death.”

Less amusing was the “Vote for Cuomo, not the homo” slogan used against him. Some attributed the slur to Cuomo’s 19 year old son and campaign manager Andrew, while others say it was started by Lyndon Laroche’s vicious group.

Koch was long rumored to be a closeted gay man. When asked if he was, Koch replied “None of your f–king business.”

Perhaps Koch’s greatest achievement was lifting the spirit of New Yorkers when the city was going through a hellish period, including everything from financial woes to the Son of Sam serial killings.

“Ed Koch gave New York City back its morale,” said then NY Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan. “And that is a massive achievement.”

Koch was as well known for his quips as his political positions. When the Ringling Brothers circus came to Madison Square Garden and Koch refused to pet a tiger on opening day, a bystander called out “Mr Mayor, are you a coward?” Koch glared at the man with mock outrage and replied “Your Mayor is not a coward. Your Mayor is also not a schmuck!”

Koch was not a coward. He was awarded two battle stars in World War Two, and this toughness was evident during his terms as Mayor, noted Pete Hamill.

“He went at it with a sense of joy, a sense of combat, a sense that made us all say “that’s the voice of New York, that’s what we are,” said Hamill.

“I think of him now with enormous affection,” said Hamill on the day Koch died. “He was a huge pain in the ass, but he was our pain in the ass, and we were lucky to have him.”

In 2005 Graziano Graziussi achieved his Masters degree from the School of International and Public Affairs at Columbia University. So began the Naples, Italy native’s love affair with New York City.

It may have ended this week.

A practicing lawyer with a dual degree in economics, the 43 year old Graziussi recently flew into town and dined with a friend at the upscale midtown steakhouse Smith & Wollensky.

At meal’s end (rib eye steak $54, side of hash browns $12.50, side of asparagus $14 (!) plus drinks for a total of $208), Graziano realized that he left his wallet in his hotel room.

Embarrassed, the well dressed, dapper attorney talked to the waiter and the restaurant’s general manager.

“I proposed to leave my iPhone with them as collateral, run back to the hotel and come back with my wallet within 15 minutes,” Graziussi told Home Cooking IPad Magazine. He even suggested they send a busboy with him if they didn’t trust him.

Instead the general manager called the cops.

“I thought the police would laugh at being called for this,” said Graziussi.

Uh, not quite. The cops handcuffed him and locked him up overnight in jail!

Most people thought the restaurant and cops handled this rather badly, to say the least. The blogosphere lit up with indignant comments: False arrest! Is it really a crime to forget your wallet? Boycott Smith & Wollensky! Sue the bastards!. The European press was similarly outraged.

After spending the night in The Tombs, Graziussi was brought before a judge, who quickly tossed the case out. Seems pretty cut and dried, right? Hey, we’ve all forgotten our wallets at some point in our lives.

And yet…

Ok, Graziussi says he forgot his wallet. But his friend also forgot his wallet and had no money or credit card? What are the odds? Why couldn’t his friend go back and retrieve the money while Graziussi stayed, or vice versa? Why wasn’t his friend also arrested?

I smell something funny here, and it’s not the asparagus.

Stay tuned.
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Update, Saturday, 1-26, 3p.m.:

Smith and Wollensky and the NYPD have finally released statements, and they seem to shed quite a different light on Mr. Graziussi’s claims.

The restaurant’s statement: “We have been in business for 35 years and it our policy to maintain our guests’ privacy. We do not contact the police without significant cause.”

More to the point, police commissioner Ray Kelly, defending the onslaught of attacks on his department regarding the incident, reports that the lawyer did have a wallet containing $118 but refused to hand it over. Graziussi claimed to speak no English, but a cop who responded to the scene spoke fluent Italian, translated and determined that the individual simply did not want to pay.

Who do you believe here? The fact that Graziussi has conducted numerous press interviews in English certainly casts doubt on his entire story.

So once again a valuable lesson, but this time not for the NYPD: Don’t be too quick on the trigger! Just because someone looks you in the eye and says something doesn’t mean it’s true– there are more sociopaths out there than ever.

Gosh, a lawyer trying a scam. Whoda thunk it?

When I was a little kid I’d watch the Miss America pageant with my parents, viewing the spectacle the way I later viewed the movie Aliens. Bert Parks would sing “There She Is, Miss America!” and a shapely, toothy 21 year old blonde who looked 35 would parade down the runway, not looking like anyone I had ever seen on the streets of Brooklyn.

So it was somewhat of a shock to me when I read that new Miss America Mallory Hagan lives in Windsor Terrace, a few blocks from my brother, and hangs out in Prospect Park.

“All right! A Brooklyn girl–that’s great!” said Jessica Bartolo, a resident of neighboring Park Slope.

But is Hagan really a Brooklyn girl?

Born in Alabama, Hagan moved to the city just a few years ago in pursuit of a career in the fashion business.

“I needed to figure out who I was and what to do with my life,” said Hagan, explaining her move from tiny Opelika, Ala. to the biggest city in the nation.

Hagan enrolled in the Fashion Institute of Technology with dreams of ultimately becoming an executive with a beauty or fashion firm.

To get her name out there, Hagan entered the NY state beauty pageant as Miss Brooklyn. She came in second and when the strict beauty contest rulebook didn’t allow her to compete for the borough crown again, ran for the Miss Manhattan crown a year later (you can still live in Brooklyn yet run for Miss Manhattan–don’t ask), won that, and the rest, as they say, is history.

After her victory, many said Hagan isn’t really Brooklyn, Manhattan or New York at all, but a Dixie opportunist.

“This is bizarre,” New York native and Windsor Terrace resident Jane Hoppen told The New York Times . “We don’t believe in beauty pageants here.”

Others cited Hagan’s relatively brief time here and southern accent as proof that she’s not a real New Yorker.

But Brooklyn borough president Marty Markowitz begs to differ.

“That’s Brooklyn chutzpah,” he decided, referring to Hagen running in both boroughs. “She is Brooklyn, despite her Southern twang.”

Hagan says she feels at home here and that she “loves New York and its diversity.”

So what do you make of a Brooklyn southern belle who clinches the Miss America title by tap dancing to James Brown’s “Get Up Offa That Thing?”

Perhaps her answer during the climax to the pageant on Saturday night will help you decide. When asked about gun control, Hagan sneered at the NRA’s proposal of armed guards at schools.

“I don’t think the proper way to fight violence is with violence,” Hagan told a national television audience.

So is Hagan really one of ours or a redneck passing through? Let’s see: pro diversity, outspoken, in an interracial relationship, pro gun control…

Fuhgeddabowdit! A New Yorker all the way!

(film review: Zero Dark Thirty–click Arts atop page)

While the term “arrogant politician” has become virtually redundant, Larry Seabrook has managed to take it to new, breathtaking heights.

The Bronx Councilman (a/k/a “Cash and Carry Larry”) was sentenced to five years in jail this week by NYC judge Deborah Batts, citing his “incredible sense of entitlement, arrogance, nepotism and greed.”

Seabrook was convicted on three of four charges in a massive fraud scheme that diverted over a million dollars in taxpayer money meant for Bronx community projects to his family and his mistress Gloria Jones-Grant, who headed up three shady non-profits Seabrook created to facilitate the scam.

“I want to talk about myself as a family man,” Seabrook piously told the court, as his humiliated wife looked on with a mix of horrified disbelief and a dysfunctional admiration for her hubby’s world-class gall.

Seabrook’s lawyer Anthony Ricco read a “touching” letter from the dazed and confused wife, pleading that her husband be kept out of prison in order to continue to serve as a “role model” for their 14 year old son so he “won’t go astray.”

But Judge Batt refused, although she did cut two years from Seabrook’s possible seven year term, giving him a pass on the 4th charge: using fake receipts to swindle yet more money. These included a bill of $177 for the purchase of a bagel sandwich and Diet Snapple.

What was on that bagel sandwich–caviar?

Yet the jury thought the bagel story had too many holes. “The prosecution didn’t really fully prove this,” insisted Kelly Ann, the jury forewoman. She did note that it was an “interesting” receipt for just a bagel and Snapple. You think?

Meanwhile, Batts said that Seabrook “deserved some consideration for his record of public service.” Really?

If you or I worked for a company for decades until it was discovered we systematically were ripping them off for a total of more than a million dollars, how much “consideration for our years of service” do you think we’d get?

Be that as it may, upon conviction Seabrook was automatically booted from office. But that didn’t derail Cash and Carry Larry’s chutzpah express.

“I just want to say how much I love the people of the Bronx and how I will miss lifting them up,” said a teary Seabrook.

Lifting their wallets is more like it.

As we take our first baby steps into 2013, time to take a last look at one of the weirdest years in memory for NYC and vicinity:

Leading the way was a storm which forever changed the way we will live in New York. Hurricane Sandy (nicknamed Frankenstorm because of its size and landfall right before Halloween) brought unprecedented devestation to our area. The largest Atlantic hurricane in history, the storm caused billions in damage, death and destruction.

Even if their houses were left intact, people living on a street with a name associated with water (Beach Drive, Surf Avenue, etc.) immediately saw the value of their homes drastically plunge. Sea walls that are popular in Florida and Amsterdam were now suggested to protect New York and New Jersey.

Anyone with a brain could now clearly see that climate change presents a true menace to us. Which brings us to Mitt Romney. Not only did Mitt stubbornly refuse to say he believed in the dangers of climate change but made an ill-timed suggestion to dismantle FEMA. “Just kidding!” is only slightly paraphrasing what Romney said right after the storm hit, a tad too late to rescue his drowned candidacy.

Unusual sights brought on by Hurricane Sandy included full sized boats floating down Manhattan’s Second Avenue and NJ Governor Chris Christie simultaneously hugging President Obama and Bruce Springsteen.

Meanwhile residents of Staten Island, hit very hard by Sandy, had to deal with a less devestating but just as weird event a month later when a zebra escaped from the home of a local animal nut and galloped down the borough’s Victory Boulevard.

Giovanni Schirripa ran an illegal “petting zoo” in his backyard, which included roosters, peacocks, a pony and “Razzi the Zebra.” When angry Health Department officials came knocking on Schirripa’s door, he took the 5th. “I don’t have to tell you nothing about a zebra, except that there’s no zebra here,” he offered.

When authorities went to question Schirripa’s long time neighbors, what they got was far from an endorsement.

“He’s an idiot,” said a neighbor who would only identify himself as Vinnie. “The guy’s a natural moron–a total menace,” Vinnie observed.

According to Vinnie and other neighbors, Schirripa later corralled Razzi the Zebra and whisked him and his fellow petting zoo occupants to “somewhere in New Jersey.”

Finally, a hazardous material threat panicked residents of the tony Hamptons, who quickly summoned authorities in Hazmat suits to inspect the mysterious metal container left outside a physical therapy office in Southhampton.

The container was filled with discarded lobster shells and an empty bottle of expensive French wine__ a “threat” only to those Hamptonites with shellfish allergies.

Like lovers who’ve been burned too many times, we were a tad wary when dynamic new MTA commissioner Joseph Lhota came on board at the start of 2012. Joe’s quick acceptance of the inevitability of another fare hike and public screaming matches with other board members left us wondering about his judgement.

But then Hurricane Sandy came along, Lhota’s first real crisis, and Joe came through with shining colors, getting the subways and buses up and running in short order.

While still wary, we now held a glimmer of hope: Hey, maybe this guy actually cares, means what he says and will (finally) do right by us!

Fat chance.

On December 19, less than a year after taking the reins, Lhota gave 12 days notice and bailed on the job. Family emergency? Scandal?

Nope. Joe’s decided to “explore” a run for mayor!

“This is a life-defining decision for me,” said Lhota. What did he have to say to once again abandoned subway riders? “It’s not you, it’s me,” he chuckled.

Ok, he didn’t really say that last one. But he may as well have. It is him–another crass opportunist who came on board promising to straighten out the horrible MTA bureaucracy, performed well during the Hurricane but left us the same basic MTA mess that was here when he arrived, with its budget contingent on federal aid that is still unsecured.

Lhota’s solution? Vote to again jack up the subway fare to $2.50, as well as to substantially boost the cost of MetroCards and bridge tolls. While Lhota ducked out before it was rubber-stamped by the full board, it will most likely go into effect March 1st. See you, suckers!

Why does this feel so familiar? Wasn’t it only recently that we kissed another opportunist commissioner goodbye?

Jay Walder was two years into a fat, six-year contract paying $300,000 per annum. Walder solemnly promised he was in it for the long haul, even demanding a payment of $750,000 if he were asked to leave early, demanding a commitment to him from the city.

Yep, another double standard double-dealer. As recounted in this space exactly one year ago today, Walder parleyed his two year stint at the MTA into a $2 million a year position as CEO of a Hong Kong rail and real estate firm. But Jay, what about your solemn promise? Jay? Jay??

Now Lhota has the chutzpah to think that because of the MTA’s unexpectedly brisk response to Hurricane Sandy (mostly due to unsung MTA employees working 14 hour days to get the system back up) New Yorkers can’t wait to pull the lever for our dashing hero, as Lhota’s real estate and other corporate cronies eagerly urge him to throw his hat into the ring.

Sorry Joe, but we’ve been played too many times before. We’ve learned the hard way that to the Joe Lhotas of the world, it’s not about public service, but self service.

Since I started freelancing/playwriting full time, I’ve avoided subway rush hour as much as possible— but today was my lucky day. Standing on the 6 train at 8:30 a.m., the doors opened and a husky, middle aged woman stepped on, grabbed the pole and suddenly, we were in church.

JESUS IS WATCHING YOU! she roared, startling us. We all discreetly backed up a bit, as those lucky few in seats buried their noses deep in their reading material.

AND HE DOESN’T LIKE WHAT HE SEES! she scolded, going on this way for what seemed like eternity, haranging us, shaming us, her James Earl Jones bellow piercing our eardrums.

YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT DANGER FACES YOU TODAY— BECAUSE YOU ARE ALL SINNERS! she surmised, a smug, knowing look on her face. JESUS WAS BEATEN, YET HE TOOK ON THE CURSE OF YOUR SINS! BUT YOU ARE LUCKY— BECAUSE JESUS SAVES!

If the woman was screaming COSTCO SAVES! at this eardrum-shattering level, 20 people would have told her to shut up. But because she was spouting religion, she got a pass. Why?

ONLY JESUS CAN GRANT YOU JOY AND PEACE! DO YOU HEAR ME??

Uh, yeah. And so can the people in New Jersey.

JOY AND PEACE!

Actually this woman sounded more angry than joyful and peaceful. But who was I to challenge her?

Anyone who knows me at all would think I’d be exactly that guy.

Peace? She was disturbing the peace. I was trying to read the paper and getting increasingly pissed. But for some reason I didn’t let her have it, checking off the rationalizations in my head: She’ll be gone soon. You don’t need a battle this morning. Perhaps some evangelical fellow passengers might be offended if I simply tell her to SHUT THE HELL UP AND STOP SCREAMING IN OUR FACES!

But like we do with religious institutions when it comes to paying taxes, we all gave her a pass. And we shouldn’t have. This is how religious fanatics who’ve wormed their way into politics nationwide get away with browbeating us and worse. We’re not saying raped women shouldn’t be allowed abortions—GOD is saying it! No, we don’t hate gays—GOD does! Change your sinful ways and be saved!

This woman wasn’t saying any of that (yet), only bellowing that we are ALL SINNERS AND WE MUST ATONE TODAY!

Ok, that was it. I was revved up and ready for confrontation. The rest of these wimps can stand here like naughty children being scolded by a deranged parent, but I’ve had enough. But just when I could take it no more and turned toward her, the doors opened and she hastily departed, on to harang other unsuspecting sinners in the next car.

So what’s left to say except happy holidays to you too, lady. And a Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukuh, Fun Festivus or a Delightful None of the Above to you all!