wild beasts included.
[I've failed in my duties lately to report stories from NYC.]
September 1981.
Avenue B and 10th Street.
I moved to an abandoned storefront on Avenue B - gutted and empty with nothing but an abandoned dog leashed to a heat riser who upon my opening the door broke free and raced out, never to be seen again [I thought]. The walls were covered with painted swastikas from an earlier time when it was the nazi headquarters of the lower east side -- however it was so cheap and I was so poor that it was a match made in heaven.
Over the next several months, my boyfriend at the time and several friends all help to put up walls, install sink, shower, toilet and a loft bed to seperate it into two rooms. This was my home for many years - through the first wigstock in Tompkins Square... the first cafes.... the first settlers.
It was a different era - there were only a few other people living on the street - brave souls also rebuilding cheap rental spaces owned by a reknowned slum lord at the time. We looked after each other, made peace with the neighborhood locals, and alerted each other every time a battery was stolen out of someone's car. [There was no alternate side of the street parking - so everyone had a junker that would sit in the same spot all winter long, devoid of parking tickets.]
On Saturday nights we would all meet outside with thermos' of cocktails and home baked treats to watch the arson fires. It was like clockwork, every Saturday, 8pm. You could set your watch by it.
[Now it is the home of french bistros and galleries, with little memory of days when to live there was something akin to pioneering the wild west. Shootouts and wild beasts included.]
;-)
ps: the dog came back a week after I moved in -- he stayed with me for many years until one day he bolted again and news returned that he had a run-in with a con ed truck on 14th street. RIP my little friend....
September 1981.
Avenue B and 10th Street.
I moved to an abandoned storefront on Avenue B - gutted and empty with nothing but an abandoned dog leashed to a heat riser who upon my opening the door broke free and raced out, never to be seen again [I thought]. The walls were covered with painted swastikas from an earlier time when it was the nazi headquarters of the lower east side -- however it was so cheap and I was so poor that it was a match made in heaven.
Over the next several months, my boyfriend at the time and several friends all help to put up walls, install sink, shower, toilet and a loft bed to seperate it into two rooms. This was my home for many years - through the first wigstock in Tompkins Square... the first cafes.... the first settlers.
It was a different era - there were only a few other people living on the street - brave souls also rebuilding cheap rental spaces owned by a reknowned slum lord at the time. We looked after each other, made peace with the neighborhood locals, and alerted each other every time a battery was stolen out of someone's car. [There was no alternate side of the street parking - so everyone had a junker that would sit in the same spot all winter long, devoid of parking tickets.]
On Saturday nights we would all meet outside with thermos' of cocktails and home baked treats to watch the arson fires. It was like clockwork, every Saturday, 8pm. You could set your watch by it.
[Now it is the home of french bistros and galleries, with little memory of days when to live there was something akin to pioneering the wild west. Shootouts and wild beasts included.]
;-)
ps: the dog came back a week after I moved in -- he stayed with me for many years until one day he bolted again and news returned that he had a run-in with a con ed truck on 14th street. RIP my little friend....
posted by yoyobunny at 7:18 PM
