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Kris
August 15th, 2003, 05:38 AM
August 15, 2003

THE PAST

The Blackouts of '65 and '77 Became Defining Moments in the City's History

By MARTIN GOTTLIEB and JAMES GLANZ

There was, before yesterday, the good blackout and the bad blackout: the 15-hour power loss beginning on the evening of Nov. 9, 1965, that was largely characterized by cooperation and overriding good cheer and the 25-hour one beginning on the sticky night of July 13, 1977, that was defined by widespread looting and arson in the city's poorer neighborhoods.

Until Sept. 11, 2001, they were the most wide-ranging catastrophic events to strike modern New York City, causing, in the case of the 1977 blackout alone, 3,800 arrests and more than a billion dollars in damage that can be seen today on streets like still-battered Broadway in the Bushwick neighborhood of Brooklyn. The dimensions of those blackouts ensured that they would always have a niche in the city's history, but they have assumed a far greater place, becoming defining events. The first blackout instantly became an emblem of civic spunk and resilience, the second of civic disarray and uncertainty at a time of overwhelming municipal budget woes, economic deterioration, and fear caused by a serial killer known as Son of Sam.

"I think the way the '65 blackout is remembered generally is as sort of an exciting challenge — that's when we thought of the babies being born nine months later," said Kenneth T. Jackson, president of the New York Historical Society. "It was recalled as a shared difficulty. In 1977, the riots and the arson and the looting was seemingly symptomatic of a city that experienced very difficult times."

Even before the 1965 blackout, there were precursors in 1959 and 1961, reflective of the enormous surge in the use of electricity across the country in the years after World War II. About half a million people were affected each time. Each of the earlier blackouts began when high-capacity power cables failed as the city was drawing record amounts of power during extremely hot summer days, said Phillip F. Schewe, a physicist and writer who is preparing a book on the 1965 blackout.

In 1965, a giant cascade of failures on the power grid began when the breaker on a single cable was set too low on the Canadian side of Niagara, Dr. Schewe said. The cable's power was taken up by another set of cables, whose breakers also tripped, funneling the excess power elsewhere. Quickly, a "tsunami of power" was heading south, toward upstate New York, he said.

In New York City, as monitoring dials went wild, a crucial operator at the main power control station made frantic phone calls upstate instead of preemptively shutting down the city's system to protect it. Automatic shutoffs took over and suddenly closed down the Con Ed system for the first time in its history, causing damage to the power system. A 1,000 megawatt steam-turbine generator nicknamed "Big Allis" burned up its bearings. The power failure ultimately covered 80,000 square miles and affected about 25 million people.

Nowhere were the effects more evident than in New York City, where 800,000 rush-hour commuters were stranded in subways, cars clogged every road, Kennedy and La Guardia Airports were closed as at least 200 airplanes were diverted, and Broadway stayed dark. Thousands of people were stuck in elevators for hours on end and suburban commuters gave up on getting home.

But the city underwent an epidemic of pluck. People voluntarily directed traffic, handed out candles and settled down at Grand Central Station for a night of sleep, without much of a worry about their wallets.

The well-mannered and sometimes even buoyant tenor of the night was captured by Murray Schwab, a bookkeeping teacher at the old Central Commercial High School on East 42nd Street, who was quoted in "The Night the Lights Went Out," a book put together by the staff of The New York Times. Classes were still in session for some students and as Mr. Schwab recalled, "When the lights went out, the kids made jokes like `Somebody should have paid the electric bill.' As the evening wore on we sang songs, even me with my voice. After a few hours they began to get sleepy. They put their heads down on tables and went to sleep."

For a city going through enormous ethnic and racial transitions, one that experienced rioting in Harlem a year earlier, the experience was reassuring and exhilarating. Within days some advertising executives published a book of cartoons entitled "Where Were You When the Lights Went Out?" The phrase, and the good-humored attitude behind it, stuck.

A series of lightning strikes set off the 1977 blackout. The first strike came at 8:30 p.m. on July 13, cutting off one huge power plant — the Indian Point No. 3 plant — and a second cut off another major plant, precipitating a general shutdown. By 9:30, the entire city was dark.

Because of the power failure, LaGuardia and Kennedy airports were closed down for about eight hours, automobile tunnels were closed because of lack of ventilation, and 4,000 people had to be evacuated from the subway system. Con Ed called the shutdown an "act of God," enraging Mayor Abraham Beame, who charged that the utility was guilty of "gross negligence."

In many neighborhoods, veterans of the 1965 blackout headed to the streets at the first sign of darkness.

But many of them did not find the same spirit. In poor neighborhoods across the city, looting and arson erupted. The Fire Department counted 1,037 fires burning throughout the city that night, more than 50 of them serious. On streets like Brooklyn's Broadway the rumble of iron store gates being forced up and the shattering of glass preceded scenes of couches, televisions, and heaps of clothing being paraded through the streets by looters at once defiant, furtive and gleeful.

"The looters were looting other looters, and the fists and the knives were coming out," Carl St. Martin, a neurologist in Forest Hills, Queens, recalled years later. A third-year medical student living in Bushwick when the blackout hit, he spent the night suturing a succession of angry wounds at Wyckoff Heights Hospital.

Before the lights came back on, even Brooks Brothers on Madison Avenue was looted. On the first Sunday after the blackout, a priest named Gabriel Santacruz looked out at the congregation in St. Barbara's Church in Bushwick and bleakly told it, "We are without God now."


Copyright 2003 The New York Times Company

NYguy
August 15th, 2003, 07:07 AM
Those were the days....

http://www.nydailynews.com/ips_rich_content/659-news0815.JPG

http://nydailynews.com/front/story/109266p-98673c.html


The subways; a special hell
http://nydailynews.com/front/story/109267p-98659c.html


Blame Canada
http://nydailynews.com/front/story/109270p-98682c.html

Hof
August 15th, 2003, 01:14 PM
I have great sympathy for New Yorkers today:I also have great pride for the way the City and it's people are handling this.
It is an actual test of the City's civility,an pop quiz taken by every resident,returned by all and immediately graded with "A-PLUS...A Notable Improvment".
I think that the spirit of cooperation among you that was * * forged by the events of 9/11 was called upon again,and everyone felt it return and acted on it.
Do what Bloomberg suggests;take the day off and polish off that beer in your fridge--it's only going to get warm anyway...and good luck.

Kris
August 16th, 2003, 03:10 PM
August 17, 2003

In Calm Blackout, Views of Remade City

By MARTIN GOTTLIEB

When the lights went out last Thursday, Imani Kuumba was in an eyeglass shop on 116th Street in Harlem. She was also in a very different New York from the one she lived in when the last major blackout in 1977 turned her South Bronx neighborhood into a harrowing zone of plunder and mayhem.

In 1977, Ms. Kuumba recalled: "It was complete chaos, just total chaos. They grabbed the flashlights and started looting." This time, the eyeglass-store owner and the other shopkeepers along 116th Street quickly ushered their customers onto the street and pulled down their iron gates. The police showed up so fast, she said, "it was like they knew beforehand this was going to happen." And through the night, "the people took it in stride," she said. "They barbecued in the dark. They sang."

They felt that this was just another event, she said, "something that occurs in New York, and it would be over soon."

Tall buildings have crumbled in New York since the last blackout. Drug scourges have come and gone. The economy has boomed and flattened and struggled to boom again. Millions of people have moved out and in and changed the face of the city forever.

Through it all, though, the blackout as metaphor for the civic psyche appears to have survived. And this time, Kenneth T. Jackson, the president of the New-York Historical Society, says he thinks it may be saying, "This is a city that seems to be under control."

In 1977, New York had reached an arson-scarred, drug-infested, economically challenged nadir. The blackout looting then was breathtakingly panoramic, often against a background of rock-throwing and flames. Today, the first snap of a blackout easily awakens fears of terrorist attacks. But this notwithstanding, Mr. Jackson said, "When we think of the city we think of the ordered city."

The reasons for this are writ large — a crime rate that, in a development that no one in 1977 would have been foolish enough to predict, has plummeted to its lowest point in decades, with a third the murders of 1977; an economy that, even after more than two years of trouble, provides 600,000 more jobs than that of '77; and a population, that thanks largely to a continuing transfusion of immigrants by the thousands, tops 8 million, or about a million more than at the time of the last blackout.

But the reasons are also writ small, in commonplaces of New York life that would have been unthinkable in 1977. For one thing, you can smell the roses, or at least the city parks' more varied assortment of flowers. In innumerable locations they sprout unencumbered by the chicken wire that used to protect them from flower thieves, when they were grown at all.

In a growing number of neighborhoods, security-relaxed shopkeepers are not bothering to install the metal grating that has been a fixture of the urban street scene since the 60's.

In the subways, when a train bears the number 2 or the letter D, you can take it at its word. And when neighborhoods undergo change, it is often upward, at least economically. In the new hit musical "Avenue Q," a couple decides to leave its funky-with-good-feeling block for a fancier clime — the Lower East Side, which may never before have been such an object of aspiration.

Thus, the near lack of untoward incidents during this blackout may reflect a lot.

"We have worked over the years to build an infrastructure to protect this city, and provide services," Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg said on his weekly radio program Friday morning. "Most of the time most of the things really do work and that's why last night will go down as a safe night in New York City, a night where people got along."

Compared with 1977, he said, "I think you can make the case that people in New York City are happier, get along better, cooperate with one another."

Those sentiments are widely shared, and for no small reason. The decade of the 70's was the time of the city's greatest population loss — "the arch decade of white flight" in the words of John H. Mollenkopf, director of the Center for Urban Research at the City University Graduate Center, and also the first decade in which black and Puerto Rican middle class families left the city along with whites. A poll taken by The New York Times and CBS News just after the '77 blackout yielded this headline: "Nationwide Poll Finds 6% Think New York Is a Good Place to Live."

That was before an influx of young artists and professionals pushed the borders of gentrifying New York not only to the far eastern reaches of the Lower East Side, but also across the East River to such nonbrownstone neighborhoods as Williamsburg and even parts of Bushwick, the impoverished community most ravished during the last blackout.

At the time of the '77 blackout, the city routinely held auctions of the thousands of abandoned buildings and empty lots that it seized in tax foreclosures. It was not unusual for an empty building in Bushwick or another poor neighborhood to sell for $25, to whoever wanted to take on the ultimate handyman's special in the company of packs of roaming wild dogs. Today, a growing working-class cluster of Ecuadorians and other new immigrants are filling many of Bushwick's weathered three-story wood-frame homes, and Bushwick Avenue, in its heyday known as "Doctor's Row" for the occupants of its handsome brownstones, is beginning to buzz again.

Meanwhile, houses and co-ops in the city's wealthier neighborhoods, along with those around the region, have risen more in value than homes in virtually any other part of the country. Last year, the city issued more permits to build single-family homes than for any year since 1985, although the long-term effect of steep property tax increases that went into effect in the city this year remains to be seen. That building boom has done much to account for a doubling in construction jobs since 1977 to more than 120,000.

Tourism, which drew fewer than 17 million people to the city in 1977, is expected to attract twice that many this year, something that helped increase the number of service jobs in the city since '77 by well over half a million.

The quiet of Thursday's blackout may well have little to do with any of this. The '77 blackout that struck about 9:30 p.m. during a nasty heat wave, but this one came shortly after 4 p.m., with hours of daylight remaining. The Police Department — with near-record numbers of officers — had a chance to mobilize a visible presence in almost every corner of the city. By night, a cool breeze accompanied the dark.

Still, Dick Netzer, a professor emeritus at New York University's Wagner Graduate School of Public Service, said that there was more to the calm than this. "I think it's a consequence of a much greater sense of some kind of empathy among New Yorkers for each other, and a sense that criminal acts are really wrong. I think there's a building sense of civility. It's such a difference."

He credited this to a generally prosperous decade, a tough policing policy developed during the administration of former Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, and "the social bonds coming out of 9/11."

From the streets of poorer neighborhoods, even those like Harlem, which are now home to such touchstones of prosperity as Old Navy and Starbucks, other reasons are offered for the peace. Among them are an overwhelming, debilitating poverty that has outlasted a near decade of prosperity, and Mr. Giuliani's extraordinarily successful campaign to cut welfare rolls, which have fallen by more than 50 percent from their 1977 totals of close to a million.

"People are becoming accustomed to not having," said Ms. Kuumba, an administrative assistant with the city's Office of Children and Family Services. "They don't have it; the city's not giving it to them any more; they're not going to have it and they never will. So come what may. There's just complacency."

The 2000 census, according to Mr. Mollenkopf, counted 1.7 million New Yorkers living below the poverty line, which at the time was defined as an annual income for a family of four of $17,603. Of these, a million were subsisting on half that or less, which Mr. Mollenkopf said, "is just about destitution, I would say."

But in the new New York, even poverty has a different face. The massive population drop in the 70's — an estimated 440,000 from the start of the decade until the '77 blackout — left neighborhoods empty, burning, and occupied in good numbers by people who did not have the wherewithal to get out. Along with the many struggling to hold things together, there were also the ranks of the looters who took over the streets of so many communities on the evening of July 13.

Streets and neighborhoods like Brownsville in Brooklyn, can still take on that feel. But in most others, like many of those in Bushwick, immigration has brought numbers, variety, dogged hope and a feeling of greater safety. "If you compare New York's poorest neighborhoods with neighborhoods in cities like Detroit and Chicago, they're not depopulating by and large," said Philip Kasinitz, chairman of the sociology department at the City University Graduate Center. "It means that even the poorest neighborhoods basically have a critical mass not just for city services, but for basic retailing."

From their windows, those people watch the street for trouble and this, to some degree, helps crime fall. On Thursday night, Mr. Kasinitz said, "people felt comfortable being out on the street." "Not just the young people drinking and looking for trouble," he said. They were out, but so were a lot of others."


Copyright 2003 The New York Times Company

TLOZ Link5
August 16th, 2003, 10:37 PM
This is definitely one of those times that I'm especially proud to be a New Yorker. *So many people—especially those who were here for the '77 blackout and the ignorant detractors of the city who live elsewhere—were expecting riots, arson, looting, you name it. *By taking it in stride, crime was lower than it usually is for a summer night, and as such we relieved the former and showed up the latter. *I was surprised and reassured that Detroit and Cleveland performed admirably, as well. *I will never move out of this city if I could help it.

JerzDevl2000
August 17th, 2003, 03:17 AM
I have to almost laugh at this...I'm more than shocked that Detroit did well considering how they nearly burned the city again after the Pistons won the NBA title in '89 and '90.

People should have known that New York would do well. We didn't burn anything but the other teams jersey when the Yanks and Rangers won titles in the 90's and handled 9/11 as best as anyone could given the conditions.

Shaq bought police cars for the L.A.P.D. after a few were burned during roiting following the Lakers winning the N.B.A. Title. Heck, even college campuses turn to war zones after teams win (or even lose!) national championship games. New York has come a long way, hang your head high!

TLOZ Link5
August 17th, 2003, 04:23 PM
I don't mean to contradict you, Jerz, but you can't change the opinions of every ignorant person in the world. *A substantial number of people still maintain the impression that New York hasn't changed a bit since 1980. *On the message boards on AOL (figures) they aren't praising New Yorkers for their resilience during the blackout, but mocking them for supposedly complaining the whole way—which, as any of us here, or anyone elsewhere with common sense, knows did not happen. *So what if we got the most media attention as opposed to Detroit and Cleveland? *These idiots will find any way to put the City down; this time, however, they didn't have as ready an audience, thank God. *And I made it a point on the Detroit area boards to praise them for the way they weathered the crisis.

And as for veterans of the '77 blackout, fears of looting weren't far from their minds. *You've read the articles about shopkeepers in Harlem and Bed-Stuy. *I had a doctor appointment at New York Hospital 45 minutes before the power went off, and by the time I got there the hospital was locked down; I borrowed someone's cellphone and called her up and she told me to come tomorrow and get home before it got dark. *She lived on 96th and 1st during the '77 blackout and the electronics store next door to her building was ransacked.

But all in all, this time it wasn't that bad. *A practical cakewalk for most of us here, I would assume. *I wonder, however, if Pope John Paul is going to recognize us for the way we weathered it, considering that Paul VI did so after '77.

DougGold
August 17th, 2003, 04:58 PM
I had no idea there was such terrible rioting and looting during the '77 blackout. I'm really proud of the way new yorkers handled themselves during this recent one. I wonder if it's because the people have pulled together after 9/11, or simply because people are generally better off than they were in '77.

Hof
August 17th, 2003, 08:25 PM
TLOZ--NY got all the attention because New York is the beating heart--the absolute center--of the television and print media.
Anything that happens is reported first by City-based Media,then analyzed to death by City-based correspondants.
If the subject matter happens to actually involve The City,the reporting will portray NYC as the center of the known Universe.
Not Cleveland,not Detroit.
This is then sent out to everybody else with a television,making the World deduce that New York is so self-obsessed with its own importance that nowhere else really matters much.

Mostly,it doesn't...

TLOZ Link5
August 17th, 2003, 08:41 PM
Oh, be nice, Hof. *Let them flatter themselves into thinking they're also as important as New York ;)

Just kidding, any Detroiters out there reading this :biggrin:

NYatKNIGHT
August 18th, 2003, 11:44 AM
Quote: from DougGold on 3:58 pm on Aug. 17, 2003
I had no idea there was such terrible rioting and looting during the '77 blackout. I'm really proud of the way new yorkers handled themselves during this recent one. I wonder if it's because the people have pulled together after 9/11, or simply because people are generally better off than they were in '77.
One of the Times articles lists the enormous differences between now and then. The city and its residents are much better off now, and that has a lot to do with it. But certainly living through 9/11 had a noticeable impact. While waiting for a bus up at the GW Bridge, thousands of us strangers all sweating through our shirts generally were saying the same thing. This SUCKS, but it's no disaster. We all know what a real disaster is.

Kris
August 24th, 2003, 08:20 AM
August 24, 2003

EDITORIAL OBSERVER

Why Once-Violent Neighborhoods Stayed Calm During the Blackout

By BRENT STAPLES

New Yorkers who lived through the arson and looting that ravaged the city during the blackout of 1977 were understandably edgy when the lights went out on Aug. 14. But it was clear by late evening that the blackout of 2003 would be nothing like its predecessor. This night did not belong to arsonists or looters; it belonged to families and neighbors who poured into the streets to use the headlights of parked cars for block parties and barbecues.

Why were things so quiet? For one thing, the World Trade Center tragedy taught New Yorkers to recognize the difference between a genuine disaster and a temporary inconvenience. This blackout also favored us by starting during the daylight hours — instead of after dark, like the last one — allowing the Police Department to station officers strategically around the city before nightfall.

A more important difference between this blackout and the last one is the massive, publicly financed reconstruction effort that has rebuilt neighborhoods like the South Bronx from scratch. The program, begun by Mayor Edward Koch in the 80's, has produced more than 200,000 affordable apartments and houses, revitalizing burned-out communities and turning record numbers of New Yorkers into homeowners with a vested interest in keeping their areas safe.

The recoveries of the South Bronx and Harlem are familiar stories by now. But nowhere was the contrast between the 1977 blackout and the recent one more vivid than in Bushwick, a struggling but improving Brooklyn community that was widely known during the 70's for its breathtaking lawlessness and decay. Like many poor communities of the period, Bushwick watched its middle class disappear, replaced by the poor families dependent on welfare.

The layoffs and service cuts that came with the city's fiscal crisis in the 70's further undermined an already disintegrating community. By the middle of the decade, Bushwick's decaying wood-frame houses were more valuable to their owners when they were burned for the insurance. Arson became a nightly occurrence. Truck drivers who entered the community first arranged for police escorts. Some department stores refused to deliver to Bushwick at all, requiring buyers to pick up their furniture and appliances at the stores.

This brand of civic quarantine would seem outrageous in New York today. But it was common in the 70's, when communities like Bushwick, the South Bronx and, to some extent, Harlem were so cut off from the rest of the city that they seemed like distant, third-world countries.

The filmmaker John Sayles lampooned this phobia of minority communities in his 1984 movie "The Brother From Another Planet." In the film, a subway magician says he can make all the white people disappear from a train heading uptown to black Harlem. At the next stop (the last one before Harlem), the white commuters exit en masse and — poof! — the passengers turn black.

The sense of civic isolation in places like Bushwick was intensified by police officers who took a casual attitude toward crimes in depressed areas that would have been swiftly punished elsewhere. Criminals who learned that they could act with impunity took control of depressed communities. These criminals organized the looting in the 1977 blackout.

In their book about that period — "Blackout Looting!" — Robert Curvin and Bruce Porter found that experienced criminals had actually kept large crowds of less experienced looters at bay until the most valuable merchandise had been stripped from stores and carted away. At the time, the combination of looting and arson proved especially devastating on the 30-block stretch of Broadway in Brooklyn between Bushwick and Bedford-Stuyvesant, where just about every major store was ransacked and many were torched. Bushwick became part of the so-called devastation tour, in which visitors to New York were ferried by bus to view urban blight.

By the early 80's, New York was faced with a housing shortage and the challenge of rebuilding burned-out, deteriorating neighborhoods. The city committed $5 billion to build affordable housing in these desolate areas with the aim of revitalizing the communities. The rebuilding effort coincided with the rise of community policing, which got officers out of their cars and into closer contact with residents and civic groups. The stabilizing effect has been dramatic in central Harlem — where the home-ownership rate has nearly quadrupled over the last decade alone. The white people who once disappeared so magically from the uptown train now buy houses in Harlem and walk its streets.

A similar transformation is unfolding in Bushwick, where the New York City housing agency has sponsored new construction and the renovation of 4,000 homes and apartments — more than a quarter of them occupied by owners. Earlier this year, more than 2,000 people, including police officers and firefighters, inquired about 61 new houses that are going up in Bushwick, a few of which carry a price tag of more than $300,000. The demand for these houses marks a big change from 20 years ago, when middle-class New Yorkers were even afraid to drive through the neighborhood.

The calm that characterized Bushwick and other rebounding neighborhoods during the recent blackout vindicates the housing initiative begun during the 80's. The progress of the last 10 years reminds us that investing in the poorest communities benefits the city as a whole.


Copyright 2003 The New York Times Company

ZippyTheChimp
August 24th, 2003, 09:29 AM
The movie The Brother From Another Planet reminds me of what was for me, NYC at its lowest as perceived by popular culture - Escape From New York. Made in 1981, it was set in 1997, when Manhattan was a walled-in maximum security prison guarded by a federal police force. Except for food-drops by parachute into Central Park, the inmates were left to fend for themselves.

This film really pissed me off.

Hof
August 24th, 2003, 01:46 PM
I lived in the City from '68-'71,corner of Thompson and Spring,in the Italian,pre-"SOHO" Village,and I rode the Subway(or walked )to work everyday.

I grew up in Upstate NY and moved to New York after College.My Father had a position with NY State and had offices in Midtown(later the Trade Center)and I went along with him every chance I got,so I came to know the City at an early age and yearned to actually LIVE there.

When I finally got the chance,I got an apartment in Little Italy and moved to the city to seek my future.Surrounded by the hippie culture,I was in a '60s bliss.

Immediately,my car got broken into,the radio ripped from it's roots.Then it got towed or stolen,I never found out,but I bought a bike,whigh got stolen,so I gave up on mechanized transport and became a walker.
Early on,I blithefully walked around town,stoned on life and groovin' on The City.I got mugged twice and smartened up fast.
While at work,a serial arsonist set fire to the garbage cans in the vestibule of my apartment,and all my stuff forever smelled of smoke.
Everybody on my floor got broken into,some twice.It never happened to me,but I lived for 3 years with the never-ending anticipation that it could,always wondering--"why HAVEN'T I been robbed yet?" .
My journeys to work were a Fellini vision of daily life.New York presented a miserable contradiction.I was making very good money but felt threatened all the time by the dangerously unpredictible nature of the City around me.
I moved to Park Slope,but that didn't help.
When I was offered the channce to leave New York,I took it. *

The graffiti,the filth in the streets,the stripped bones of stolen cars,the lousy police protection and the drughole Subways all conspired to finally drive me away.
In those days,NYC was a milder version of recent Baghdad,where anything goes and it usually did.
Panhandlers drove you nuts,junkies hung out everywhere,civil authority was nonexistant.
Gunhots rose above the usual nighttime hum;loud,angry voices shouted from the street,and sirens sounded all night long.The feel of a civil explosion,of revolution breaking out at any moment lay heavy on the fearful inhabitants.
The city was COVERED in graffiti as nascent spray-can artists tagged at will.Shops were closed,business was contracting,drugs were openly consumed,filth blew on the wind.Times Square was a lowbrow circus,a place to avoid unless you suddenly needed some drugs or porn.Central Park?--You went THERE with a death wish.It was the same all over town,even on Staten Island.

New York was broke,and it showed.

It's changed a lot since the bad old days.I visit the City a lot and love it more each time.The old days stunk,they really did.
Today,it's a pleasure to walk the streets.Now,it's a place I really look forward to visiting.The newfound civility is a miracle unto itself,a bond among residents that held up well when the place blacked out for awhile.Good show,New York.

It's still a rough,gritty city,that hasn't changed.It's just a better grade of grit,minus the threat factor that always hung there like Marley's Ghost,way back in the City of the '70s.

Kris
August 24th, 2003, 08:41 PM
Do veteran New Yorkers confirm this description?

ZippyTheChimp
August 24th, 2003, 09:51 PM
Not every day, and not every place, and not generally SOHO.