Category: New York City

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New York City

Pandemic homecoming

“Welcome back to America, do you recognize it?” a friend emailed recently, a day after I landed back in the U.S. from a seven-month stay with my partner in South Africa.

Though I can’t speak about America, I can say that the neighborhood where I live here in New York City has changed in some by-now familiar ways. Most people wear masks when they go out. Stores have made face coverings a condition of entry.

The state is encouraging everyone to download an app that sends you COVID-19 exposure alerts. Signs posted on windows and fences remind you to stand six feet apart.

KEEP THIS FAR APART

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For the past week, I’ve kept apart, mostly in my apartment, where I wait to see whether I experience any symptoms of the coronavirus. I go out for solo strolls. So far, I feel fine.

Maybe it’s me but the ambient noise — the low-level hum that courses through the city – seems a tick lower than when I left in February. Trash trucks make their rounds, though the streets seem less tidy.

The world has come some way in its understanding of the coronavirus. “I struggle to tell from the news reports how terrible contracting COVID-19 may be,” I wrote on April 1, six days into a 21-day nationwide lockdown in South Africa. “Some people seem to experience mild symptoms, others no symptoms; some people die. I hope never to find out.”

We know more now about how to stay safe. Unlike the U.S., countries that instituted strict lockdowns have bent the curve of new infections. On April 15, I wrote: “So far more than 2 million people around the world have become infected with the coronavirus. Nearly 129,000 have died.”

By now more than 34 million people around the world have become infected and more than a million have died. The virus is projected to take many more lives.

On a whim the other day, I reached for the book “Kitchen Confidential,” which I’ve owned but until now not read. Even before the pandemic, I didn’t frequent restaurants. And I don’t cook, really. Still, the book feels like a discovery.

The vibrancy of the writing aside, Anthony Bourdain’s account of kitchens – their intensity and banging (as in people kicking closed oven doors) and heat – how working in one might be the closest thing to being part of the crew of a pirate ship – makes me yearn to stand shoulder-to-shoulder (safely) with others. I rarely thought this before the pandemic, but I look forward to one day buying a beer in a crowded bar.

That’s how home feels different now. We’re socially distant.

It’s autumn in New York. The days are mild and sunny and dry. The nights clear and cool for sleeping. The nearby ocean lends its warmth. I always like the season. But this year especially, it hints at a future when the pandemic is far away.

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New York City

Postcard from Rockaway

It barely qualifies as a day at the beach. But the two hours that I spent at Fort Tilden on Tuesday achieved their purpose, which was to help me beat the heat wave that has enveloped the city.

The temperature at the former U.S. Army installation that’s now part of the Gateway National Recreation Area was about 7 degrees lower than temperatures here in Manhattan.

The water registered 77 degrees, which feels body temperature on a day like today. I bobbed twice in the swells for about 15 minutes at a time. About 50 feet away, a pair of lifeguards in red trunks, one male, one female, perched atop a chair eight feet high, their legs stretched out in the sun.

Between trips to the water, I snacked from a Ziploc of shelled peanuts that I had packed, and read an article in The New Yorker about the evolution of civic and private power in San Francisco across three generations of the author’s family.

On the drive to the ocean, I was reminded that traffic here in New York — even during the middle of a weekday — is a force to reckon with. On the drive home, my skin cool and salty, my t-shirt smelling like the ocean, I barely minded.

Upon arriving at Fort Tilden, I took a few wrong turns to the beach. Of course, I could feel the ocean from where I stood. It was just beyond the scrubby trees. But in the three years since I last visited the fort, the National Park Service had closed some paths and opened others.

I found my way thanks to a retiree from Amsterdam who pushed a bicycle (right?!) and pointed to a path where all one had to do was to turn right.

As we walked, she asked me what I thought of a suggestion by a friend of hers, an American who she said had retired to Spain. He asked if he could use her U.S. address as his own for purposes of claiming Social Security. She said she had some concerns about that, as she receives Social Security, too.

I suggested she trust her instinct.. We thanked each other, and each went our way.

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Law New York City

Archbishop’s remains to stay in New York City for now, appeals court rules

The body of an archbishop of the Archdiocese of New York will remain buried in St. Patrick’s Cathedral pending the outcome of a hearing to determine his wishes.

That’s the decision of a state appeals court in Manhattan, which overturned a ruling by a trial judge who granted a request by the niece of Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen to move his remains to Peoria, Illinois from beneath the cathedral’s high altar.

The dispute came before the courts in June 2016, when Joan Sheen Cunningham brought a proceeding under state law to disinter the remains of her uncle and transfer them to a crypt in St. Mary’s Cathedral in Peoria.

The request followed a decision by the archdiocese to refuse a request by the Diocese of Peoria to transfer the remains of Archbishop Sheen, whom the diocese in Illinois sought to canonize.

Church officials in New York alleged that Cunningham had previously agreed to her uncle’s burial in St. Patrick’s and that Sheen, in a will signed five days before his death in 1979, directed that his funeral service be celebrated at St. Patrick’s and that he be buried at Calvary Cemetery in Queens.

Following Sheen’s death, the archbishop of New York sought Cunningham’s consent, which she gave, to bury her uncle in St. Patrick’s.

At trial, Cunningham asserted that had her uncle known during his lifetime that he would be declared a saint, he would have wished to be interred at St. Mary’s, where he attended services with his family as a boy, received his first communion and was ordained a priest.

The church countered with an affidavit of Monsignor Hilary Franco, who served as Sheen’s assistant from 1962 to 1967 and remained his friend. According to Franco, Sheen expressed a desire – one that may resonate with some New Yorkers – to remain in the city “even after his death.” According to Franco, Sheen also “was fond of repeating” that the cardinal had offered that he be buried in the crypt at St. Patrick’s.

The trial court found that the failure to follow Sheen’s request that he be buried at Calvary Cemetery and the absence of conflicting accounts of his wishes provided “good and substantial reasons” to disinter his remains and rebury them in Peoria.

The Appellate Division disagreed. “A hearing is required because there are disputed issues of material fact as to Archbishop Sheen’s wishes,” Justice Rosalyn Richter wrote for the majority.

The trial court “failed to give appropriate consideration to the affidavit of Monsignor Franco, and too narrowly defined the inquiry into Archbishop Sheen’s wishes,” said Richter, noting both that Franco had stated Sheen’s desire to remain in New York after his death and testimony by Cunningham that there was “nobody in the world closer to my uncle than me” and that Sheen was “a second father” to her.

According to the majority, it also remained unclear whether a statement in Sheen’s will that he desired to be buried in “Calvary Cemetery, the official cemetery of the Archdiocese of New York” showed an intention to remain buried in the city or merely described the cemetery.

Though a dissent by two of her colleagues relied on Sheen’s will to conclude that he did not wish to be buried in St. Patrick’s, the state’s highest court has “rejected such a narrow approach,” said Richter.

After leaving Peoria, Sheen taught for 25 years in Washington, D.C. While there, he traveled regularly to New York City to host The Catholic Hour, a weekly radio show that aired from 1930 to 1950.

From 1952 to 1957, Sheen, who was consecrated as a bishop in New York, hosted “Life is Worth Living,” a weekly television series that earned him an Emmy Award.

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Film New York City

The Lincoln Plaza Cinemas near the end

We arrived at the Lincoln Plaza Cinemas with anticipation recently to see “Darkest Hour,” a film about a newly appointed Winston Churchill confronting the threat of invasion from Nazi forces.

But we also looked forward to a film at the Lincoln Plaza, which you reach by descending a level from the box office on Broadway.

Tan carpet covers the lobby. The walls are painted lavender. One corner features a display case that holds memorabilia. There’s a concession stand that sells coffee and cake along with the candy and popcorn. An office across from the stand holds a desk and houses the management.

The six theaters themselves are throwbacks to an era before the horrors of stadium seating and moviegoers who text from their seats. The floors slope gently toward the screen. If the hallmarks of a great theater are the view and sound from the last row (where we like to sit) then the Lincoln Plaza may be the best in the city.

Happiness. At least until next month, when the Lincoln Plaza is slated to close, a victim of technology and rising rents across the city. The tale is one that recurs nowadays. “The Lincoln Plaza is the latest art house hit by a historic confluence of forces, including the streaming boom and New York gentrification,” noted Deadline, which broke the news.

Milstein Properties, which owns the building, said in a statement that “vital work” is needed to waterproof the plaza surrounding the building and that it expects “to reopen the space as a cinema that will maintain its cultural legacy far into the future.”

A spokesman for the company refused to say whether the theater would reopen with its operators, Daniel and Toby Talbot, at the helm.

If you like the Lincoln Plaza, thank the Talbots, who opened the six-screen theater in 1981. The Talbots, who are married for 68 years, have displayed independent films in the city since 1960. The theater reflects their stewardship.

“Our theater served as a springboard for a lot of foreign films,” Toby Talbot, already speaking in the past tense, told the Times, which noted that the theater introduced American audiences to such directors as Werner Herzog and Rainer Werner Fassbinder.

Daniel Talbot has credited colleagues for the theater’s charms. In a 2004 speech to mark his receiving an award for lifetime achievement from the Independent Filmmaker Project, Talbot thanked the theater’s programmer and “Ewnetu Admassu, the house manager of the Lincoln Plaza… who runs the theatre as if it were his home. There is nobody like him.”

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Law New York City

Building owners in NYC reminded to remove snow from sidewalks

With the start of winter two weeks away, a pair of rulings from a state appeals court in Brooklyn shed light on the obligation of landlords in New York City to keep sidewalks free of ice and snow.

Building owners in the city are required by law to maintain sidewalks adjacent to their properties in a reasonably safe condition, which includes removing snow and ice.

In the first ruling, the court sided with Maria Michalska, who accused the owner of an apartment building in the Coney Island section of Brooklyn with failing to clear the sidewalk outside the premises.

Michalska said she injured herself after slipping on Feb. 4, 2014 at 9:30 p.m. on ice that covered a path that had been shoveled through snow on the sidewalk adjacent to the building. According to Michalska, the sidewalk was slippery when she had used it a night earlier.

A weather report showed that 6.7 inches of snow fell as of 5 p.m. on Feb. 3, about 26.5 hours before Michalska slipped, and that no snow fell on the day of the accident.

Though the building’s superintendent testified that he could not remember whether he removed snow from the sidewalk on either day, the testimony conflicted with an affidavit in which he stated that he personally checked the sidewalk at the end of his shift at 5 p.m. on the day Michalska fell and observed neither snow nor ice.

The evidence “failed to eliminate all… issues… as to whether the [landlord caused or exacerbated the alleged icy condition on the subject sidewalk or had notice of it,” Justice William Mastro wrote on behalf of three of his colleagues in a Nov. 29 ruling that returned the lawsuit to the trial court.

Storm in progress

In a second ruling the same day, the court sided with Toni Maria Pecoraro, who accused the owners of a building in Brooklyn with failing to clear snow that she allegedly slipped on.

The owners cited a rule that relieves an owner of a building from responsibility to remove snow during a storm or for a reasonable time thereafter.

To bolster their claim, the owners presented weather data that they said showed snow falling at the time of the accident, a claim Pecoraro contested.

The court returned the case to the trial court to resolve the differences in their accounts. “The climatological data submitted by [the owners] … contradicted [Pecoraro’s] deposition testimony… as to whether precipitation was falling at or near the time of the accident,” Justice Ruth Balkin wrote on behalf of three of her colleagues.

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Film Movies New York City People Writing

Lillian Ross

Among our (many) favorite pieces by Lillian Ross, who died on Wednesday at the age of 99, is a little story about Federico Fellini, the filmmaker, from 1985, for The New Yorker’s Talk of the Town section.

He came to New York to be honored by the Film Society of Lincoln Center. Ross (and we) tag along with Fellini and his wife, the actress Giuletta Masina; Marcello Mastroianni, the actor; and Anouk Aimée, the actress; along with a few assistants, on a day-trip to Darien, where they’re invited for lunch by Dorothy Cullman, chairman of what Ross refers to on second reference as the F.S. of L.C.

The gang, in “a cavalcade of limos,” makes its way north. Ross sits in back with Fellini, Aimée and Mastroianni; Masina is up front with the driver. Ross writes:

“There were lots of high-spirited ‘Ciao!’s and laughter and the Italian equivalents of ‘Get a horse!’ from those in our limo to those in the one behind us, and then Fellini settled down… ‘This is the first time we are all together in New York,’ he said. ‘And now we go to Conneckticut,’ he added, giving a phonetic rendition that was used comfortably by everybody thereafter…

‘Is that Conneckticut?’ Mastroianni asked, pointing out the window at New Jersey as we drove up the Henry Hudson Parkway. Fellini pointed in the opposite direction, at Grant’s Tomb, and we identified it for him. ‘Cary?’ Miss Aimée asked, looking stricken. We explained Ulysses S., and everybody looked relieved.”

Discussion ensues – about the possibility of changing into bathing suits in Darien, about the making of “La Dolce Vita” – punctured by exclamations – “Look at the trees!,” Mastroianni calls out. “Look! There’s Conneckticut!”

“Not yet, we said,” Ross tells us.

The caravan finally arrives at a white clapboard house built around 1720 that overlooks a perfect lawn with a huge swimming pool that’s like a pond. Out of the limos, “up a white-and-tan pebbled walk Fellini and the gang strode – like characters in a Fellini movie – toward the house,” where they’re greeted by Mrs. Cullman, whom Ross describes:

“She wore an ample peach-and white antique Japanese kimono over a white cotton jumpsuit, and she had on flat-heeled white sandals. On her wrists she wore handsome matching wide antique Indian bracelets of ivory and silver. She extended both hands to the guests. ‘An apparition!’ Fellini whispered in awe… Fellini kissed one of Mrs. Cullman’s outstretched hands, Mastroianni kissed the other, everybody relaxed, and we were off on a Sunday-in-the-country.”

Mrs. Cullman apologizes that Mr. Cullman has just taken their cook, who had suddenly become ill, to the hospital, but assures them there will be lunch.

The gang heads into the house, to a glass-enclosed porch that looks out over the lawn and pool. They snack on crabmeat on apricot halves and pâté on toast.

Mr. Cullman appears, dressed in jeans, sneakers and an Italian striped cotton shirt, and reports that the cook is now healthy and back in the kitchen.

Mrs. Cullman sits down next to Fellini. “I have only two Italian words – molto bene,” she confides. The filmmaker smiles and lifts “a crab-filled apricot half in a gesture of salute to her. ‘Molto bene,’” he says.

Mr. Cullman reappears – he’s changed into “a cream-colored Issey Miyake sweater shirt, cream-colored slacks, and white loafers” – and proceeds to lead the guests on a tour of the house.

“Why all the houses made of wood, not stone, in Connectikut?” Mastroianni asks. “Plenty of wood in this part of the country,” Mr. Cullman says. “I thought wood because the pioneers moved all the time – away from the Indians,” Mastroianni says, acting the part of an Indian shooting an arrow at Mr. Cullman. “Yeah,” Mr. Cullman says.

The gang and its hosts head outside and wander down to the pool. Mrs. Cullman asks who’s for a swim. “Fellini looked at Mastroianni, who looked at Miss Masina,” who turns away from some hanging bells she’s admiring, “and all shook their heads” no.

The group makes its way back to the house, more crabmeat and pâté, and Mrs. Cullman and Fellini get to talking about travel. She notes that Fellini hasn’t spent much time in New York. He tells her that he visited once only to turn around and head back to Italy. He said he came to regret leaving so soon.

“Do you feel when you travel that you’re too close to it, and that later you feel differently about it?” Mrs. Cullman asks.

“Language is the medium for the relationship to reality,” Fellini says, looking apologetic, writes Ross. “If I don’t know the language, I feel lost.”

Lunch follows: “Curried chicken, seafood pasta, steamed mussels, steamed clams, green salad, white wine, three kinds of cake, ice cream, candied-ginger sauce, fresh fruit, and espresso,” Ross reports.

In the limo on the way home, the director of the tribute walks Fellini through the run of show. “It will be pictures, people, pictures, people, et cetera, and at the end, you,” she tells him.

“I want the Rockettes,” Fellini says.

Cut to the next night, at Avery Fisher Hall. Backstage, Fellini runs into Mr. Cullman, who is wearing a tuxedo and bow tie that Ross tells us has “spectacular blue polka dots the size of dimes on a bright-red background.”

“It is the tie of a Connectikut Yankee,” Fellini says knowledgeably.

The tribute “goes off nicely,” says Ross.

She reports that Fellini read a short speech, which we know is lovely, because Ross gives him the last word. There’s a sweetness to his remarks that’s missing from our current age.

“My dear American friends: You are truly a simpatico people, as I always suspected since I was a child… In the small movie house of my village – with two hundred seats and five hundred standing room – I discovered through your films that there existed another way of life, that a country existed of wide-open spaces, of fantastic cities which were like a cross between Babylon and Mars. Perhaps, thinking about it now, the stories were simplistic. However, it was nice to think that despite the conflicts and the pitfalls there was always a happy ending. It was especially wonderful to know that a country existed where people were free, rich, and happy, dancing on the roofs of the skyscrapers, and where even a humble tramp could become President. Perhaps even then it wasn’t really like this. However, I believe that I owe to those flickering shadows from America my decision to express myself through film. And so I, too, made some films and gave life to some flickering shadows, and through them I told the story of my country. And tonight, I am extremely touched to find myself here, together with my beloved actors and honored by the people who inspired me in those old years.”

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New York City

Our choice for New York City Council

Tuesday is primary election day here in New York City. Like many New Yorkers, we’re studying the flyers that we’ve been handed at subway stops, perusing endorsements, and visiting candidates’ websites and social media.

Here in District 9, five Democrats, one Republican and one member of the Reform Party are vying to unseat Bill Perkins, a Democrat who won a seat on the city council during a special election last February.

Perkins, who previously served on the council from 1998 until 2005, is reminding voters that he stood with the Central Park Five when no one else would.  (Donald Trump called for their execution.)

But in this, his second stint on council, the incumbent is showing signs of the office slipping away from him. His answers “even to softballs on major issues were embarrassingly blank,” the Daily News wrote after meeting with Perkins.

The Daily News endorsed Marvin Holland, the political and legislative director for Transit Workers Union Local 100, who began his career cleaning subways. We like that Holland calls for ending so-called broken windows policing, which leads to injustices, and strengthening ties between police and the community.

Cordell Cleare, who served for a decade as chief of staff to Perkins, is the lone woman in the race. We met her one morning outside the 3-train stop. She says she aims to preserve affordable housing, which matters in a district that is experiencing gentrification.

We also like her commitment to justice. “If you choke a man to death who said, ‘I can’t breathe’ 11 times you should go to jail,” Cleare said recently at a debate, referring to the death of Eric Garner.

Cleare earned the endorsement of the Amsterdam News, which says “it’s not possible” to cite Perkins’ successes without noting the contribution of Cleare.

Tyson-Lord Gray, an environmental advocate and lawyer who has lived in the district for a decade, is running as well. We admire his work to introduce minority students to careers in conservation. Gray, whose grandfather was a farmer, holds a doctorate in environmental ethics from Vanderbilt.

Marvin Spruill has lived in the district all his life. At a recent forum, he spoke “with a depth of feeling about policing” but otherwise “displayed little understanding of the issues,” noted City Limits. We like Spruill’s bio on Twitter, where Spruill says he’s “going all in, to go all out for our community!!” (emphasis in original)

Julius Tajiddin, another Democrat who’s running, opposes bus lanes, which evidence shows speed traffic. That’s enough reason for us to oppose him for council. (We’d like to see portions of Manhattan car-free.)

The Republican in the race is Jack Royster Jr., a pastor who found Christ after prison. We admire his being part of a prayer group whose morning walks aim to counter violence in the community.

Pierre Gooding is running as a member of the Reform party. He’s a lawyer and former teacher, who says residents should not be forced to make the choice that his mother made when she moved her family out of Harlem to a community with better public schools.

It’s a good group of candidates, but to us the choice is Cleare.

Categories
Film Movies New York City

Steven Spielberg conjures the Nixon era at Columbia

The Nixon era came to Columbia University on Wednesday. Or more precisely, Steven Spielberg recreated 1971 on the steps of Low Library.

The director brought with him cast and crew of “The Papers,” a movie about the Pentagon Papers that he is filming around the city this summer.

The film tells the story of a ruling by the U.S. Supreme Court that rejected an effort by the Nixon administration to prevent the Times and Washington Post from publishing a secret history of the Vietnam War.

We passed the set around 8:45 a.m., in time to hear Spielberg arranging his actors. They include Meryl Streep as Kay Graham, publisher of the Post, and Tom Hanks, who plays former editor Ben Bradlee.

Dozens of protestors, actors all, massed on the steps of the library, where they held signs that called for press freedom. Spielberg was audible through the din though we could not discern his instructions. And then, “Action!” he called. He sounded like he meant it, which we trust he did.

The publisher, the editor and their lawyers descended the stairs in a cluster, surrounded by a gaggle of reporters (again, actors), the way litigants do when they emerge from a courthouse. We can’t say whether the library served as stand-in for the Supreme Court.

The columns that front the library’s facade are Ionic; the ones in front of the court are Corinthian. But Cass Gilbert, who designed the Supreme Court building, began his career at McKim, Mead and White, which designed the library.

Around 1 p.m., the action broke. Protestors and reporters from 1971 emptied onto Broadway and turned left toward food trucks from 2017.

The film is slated for release later this year. The timing seems impeccable. While the filmmakers filmed, the president of the United States tweeted. This time to announce that transgender people will no longer be allowed to serve in the military.

The filming continued as we headed home later. Spielberg, it seemed, aimed to wring all he could from the light. The president offered only darkness.

Categories
Law New York City

Manhattan woman can be evicted for subletting rent-stabilized apartment through Airbnb

A woman who subleased her rent-stabilized apartment in Manhattan’s West Village via Airbnb can be evicted for the arrangement, a state appeals court has ruled in a decision that limits the reach of the company in the country’s most populous city.

Linda Lipetz, who has lived in the two-bedroom apartment since 1973, sublet the unit through the Airbnb website to 93 different customers for 338 days over a period of 18 months beginning in March 2011, at nightly rates of $95 for one person or $120 for two. Though the city’s law governing rent stabilized apartments permits a tenant to charge a 10% premium for an otherwise lawful sublet of a furnishers rent-stabilized apartment, Lipetz, 69, took in nearly twice the lawful charge, the Appellate Division’s First Department found.

Though the court noted Lipetz’ age and health (she was diagnosed with cancer in 2010), the majority rejected her characterization of the guests whom she recruited through Airbnb as roommates and her contention that she received permission from the building’s management to sublet the unit at 39 Fifth Avenue.

Lipetz “exploited the governmentally-conferred privilege of her rent-stabilized tenancy to take finance profits unavailable to the landlord, well in excess of the permissible 10% premium for a furnished apartment,” Justice Peter Tom wrote on behalf of three of his colleagues. “Moreover, [Lipetz’] exploitation of her rent-stabilized leasehold disregarded, not only the right so her landlord, but also the rights of all her fellow permanent residents of the building, whether shareholders or lessees.”

“The other residents did not bargain to share the building where they made their homes with a continuous stream of transient strangers… of unknown character and reputation, drawn to the building from all over the world by Internet advertising,” he added.

Lipetz told The New York Post she is “absolutely devastated” by the ruling, which she plans to appeal.

Eviction premature, says dissent

In a dissent, Justice Ellen Gesmer noted that Lipetz turned to Airbnb to find roommates who might help pay the rent after losing job and undergoing six operations prevented her from working for more than a year.

Noting that Lipetz sublet her apartment through Airbnb for a short time relative to the length of her tenancy, Gesmer urged her colleagues to return the decision to the lower court for resolution of a series of issues, including whether Lipetz notified the building’s management had consented to the arrangement and whether Lipetz’ conduct “rises to the level of profiteering requiring termination of her 43-year tenancy.”

An Airbnb spokesman said the law should “prevent profiteering off rent stabilized units while allowing New Yorkers to share their own homes to pay their rent or medical bills and age in place.”

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New York City

Along the Second Avenue subway

One of the first things you notice aboard an uptown Q train above 63rd Street is the quiet. The Second Avenue subway doesn’t sound like any other train you’ll ride in the city. You read later that’s because the subway is constructed with low vibration track along its 22,000 feet.

The men and women in their navy sweatshirts and orange reflective vests stenciled NYC Transit are the heroes of the Second Avenue line. At 86th Street, at 72nd Street, people with smartphones photograph the stations. If you need proof that public works lift us, ride the Second Avenue subway.

Alighting from the Second Avenue subway at 86th Street, the Upper East Side feels like a city visited for the first time. The light, the apartments, the grocers and the theaters. Third Avenue seems relieved to have regained its place as just one of the avenues that travel uptown, and not a border of the eastern edge of Manhattan. Now you can ride between the Upper East Side of Manhattan and Coney Island in Brooklyn.