Main Street Fete

Friday night. Main Street, Brooklyn. DUMBO seems too cool to have a Main Street, but there it is. I'm going to 37, Powerhouse Arena, a bookstore/event space, for a party celebrating the New York premier of "Battle for Brooklyn," at the Brooklyn Film Festival. I had seen cuts of the film, but the final version, with diagrams and music and storyline, starts off very hard and never lets up. It tells the story of Develop Don't Destroy Brooklyn and its 7 year fight to stop Bruce Ratner's ill-conceived Atlantic yards project. "It's like David and Goliath," says attorney Norman Siegel, "but you know, sometimes David wins." At the end of the film, Mayor Michael Bloomberg is chortling, "No one will remember how long it took." But we are watching the film, and we remember. I finger the leaflet in my pocket inviting me to a meeting June 15th to see the Unity Plan for the area. I plan to go. I want to see what Marshall Brown, Ron Shiffman and the other collaborating urban planners are proposing. The film's wonderful hero, Dan Goldstein, and brilliant heroine, Shabnam Merchant, are tenacious, ethical and beautiful. I learned a lot and look forward to seeing it over and over. In the meantime, at 37 Main Street, the activists and the film crowd rub shoulders in one of the moments of festivity in which we catch our breath and refuel for the next round in the fight.

Hot diggity dog!

Mazzi Dogz, which used to be on Main Street in Orange, NJ, has moved to Valley Road, right around the corner from my house. The new spot opened on Monday and we were there at 7 AM for donuts. Tuesday I went back for lunch with Pat Morrissy. We debated this and that while eating great hot dogs. Pat had espresso from the fabulous oldtime machine, recently refurbished, while I stuck with Diet Coke which seemed better suited to hot spring day. Suddenly Valley Road is hot bed of good eats. Think about it: Rock It Pizza, Miriam's, Gamburgers, Hat City Kitchen, and now Mazzi Dogs. And just around the corner on Central Avenue we have Bella Italia, Uncle Philly's Cheesteaks, Rita's Deli and White Castle. Hot diggity!

Battle of the Benches

On April 9, 2011, a major battle was fought in Orange, NJ: the Battle of the Benches. The lawn of the historic Orange Public Library was the site of the action. Eleven competitors arrived with benches they'd made, designed to compete in a list of categories. Invention was the order of the day. The contest was tough.
I got my bench ready by going to the benchmaking workshops led by University of Orange carpentry professor, Frank Racioppi. He helped me make my simple bench. "Helped" is being generous about my part. I sanded and painted, he did the rest. Then I recruited a star teammate: Vlad Jean, master artist. When the competition heard about my successful recruitment, they knew. And they were right! We took first place in the "Orange Pride" category. Vlad brought to life the energy and hope of an historic train that put Orange on the map as early as 1832. We won lunch for four at John's Market, best Italian lunch in town. Join us!

Music on Main

On the midst of the stretch of Main Street that runs from the border of Orange to the stately East Orange City Hall sits Christ Episcopal Church. Yesterday I had the chance to hear the Essex Chorale perform the first part of their annual Messiah. Main Street collapsed some years ago, a victim of the confluence of Route 280 and the Garden State Parkway. It has been slowly rebuilt, but little resistance to the automobile which has pushed the stores back to make for drive in/drive out parking, one of the great enemies of the pedestrian. Christ Episcopal Church, by its grand size and beautiful appointments, a church for well-heeled, still manages to glow, its bright white and gold altar a joyous sight. I love to watch the Chorale enter, the women in long black dresses and pearls, the men in their tuxedos, the soloists in a touch of color. I love to listen the orchestra tuning, searching for that perfection of sound. I love to watch Chorale Director Dr. DeCosta Dawson lift his baton and draw the performers to attention. I love to see friends and family who gather for the annual ritual. I love that I've gone to East Orange to see the Messiah for many years.

I had to leave early to speak on a panel being held in a building on Central Avenue in Newark. I was glad that the program organizer had waited outside for me: the area was empty and it seemed unlikely that something was happening there. I used to wait for the bus one block over. My mother would pick me up at the Newark Museum--always with a wholesome peanut bar to stave off hunger--and we'd take the bus home when her work and my afterschool program were finished. Central Avenue, too, has collapsed, yet once inside people's good cheer created good spirits as we considered issues of import.

When it came my turn to speak about women's health, I spoke about a study by Dr. Eva-Maria Simms who interviewed women in Pittsburgh's Hill District about what it was like to grow up there. She had a striking finding: in that context of the collapse of the Hill District, growing up had altered dramatically. In the 50s, before urban renewal, people lived in a dense community and neighbors and friends helped to raise the children. Children were never alone, always surrounded by others with whom they played and worked. In the 70s, after urban renewal, people grew up in much smaller social networks but had a sense of community with trusted neighbors. By the 1990s, people were retreating to their apartments, depending on friends and family, but no longer part of a functioning neighborhood that was looking out for their needs.

It is both a terrible diagnosis and a great treatment plan: starting with the wonderful rituals that have been preserved, we can rebuild the kind of dense and exciting places that will nurture us.

"...And then I wrote a song about it"

I recently moved to West Orange, NJ, and live just off Valley Road where a new theater has opened for Luna Stage, a highly respected theater group that moved to West Orange from Montclair. This means that I can stroll over the theater, an experience that I love. Last Friday night I saw a one-man musical, "...And then I wrote a song about it." The play opens on New Year's Eve, 1979, with the story of Randall, a man who is turning 30. Talk about had me at hello! I was 29 then, and, like Randall, longing to be recognized for my talent. Randall is studying singing, dancing and theater but he's a quadruple threat because he also writes songs. What got me in every line of the show was its honesty which was so evocative and touching and funny funny funny. I so identify with people looking for love while disco dancing and had never ever seen such a funny rendition of this delightful theme. At the same time, hanging over us and about to explode, was the AIDS epidemic. From nearly the first moment, recognizing that this is a gay man's story, I was waiting for the appearance of Death, and thinking about the many women and men I've lost since then. It set off quite an ache to watch someone breezing through life, not knowing what was around the corner. Watching Randall, I laughed, I cried, I remembered when. I was so grateful to singer/dancer/actor Nick Cearley whose fierce and delicious energy brought the story to life. This wonderful show is at Luna Stage through December 19th. If you ever discoed, thought about AIDS or fought with your father, you'll love this show.

Thomas Alva Edison

Thomas Alva Edison, holder of almost 2,000 patents, lived on Park Avenue and worked on Main Street. I have always admired him, since as a child, I saw a biopic. He saved his mother's life by figuring how to light the surgical field so she could get the operation she needed. And he almost blew up a train with nitroglycerin he had made, unaware of its explosive potential.

Edison's workplace, the remarkable site of "industrial invention" located on Main Street in West Orange, NJ, is operated by the National Park Service and they have recently reopened the site for visitors. I visited two buildings, #5 and the Chemistry Laboratory. Building #5 held his library of 10,000 volumes and shops for making machines, taking photographs and recording music. The chemistry building was set up much like a high school or college chem lab would be, with two aisles of work tables surrounded by shelves of ingredients. We stopped by the table used by Edison himself and the Park Ranger explained that most of Edison's patents were related to chemistry. A slight whiff of chemicals hung in the air, all these years after Edison left the building for the last time. They advised not to touch the tables: "We don't know what's been on them!"

After leaving the chemistry building, I strolled over to see the Black Maria, the building he created for making movies. The whole building turns and the roof opens so that sunlight could shine in for the filmmaking.

Hearts for Haiti

 Last Friday evening I attended a performance of "Hearts for Haiti" at Luna Stage on Valley Road in West Orange. This theater project involved a cast of young people from the area, many of them from Haiti or of Haitian descent. They had worked with theater professionals over the past month, exploring in journals, drawings, and sculptures the story of what had happened in Haiti. From this work, they had created a play to share with their families, friends and neighborhs. The play opened by showing us scenes of everyday life in Haiti: a man buying a necklace at a jeweler's, two girls going to the beach, two men fishing. Their staggering bodies and sharp thwacks on a plastic bucket took us precipitously into the earthquake and all fell down. As those who still lived stood, they mourned their companion who did not. I started to cry at that point. The young people moved directly and quickly to an affirmation of talents, sharing with us their skills at singing, dancing and reciting poetry. This grew in joy and hope to a powerful conclusion in a song the youth had written themselves, "We rise." I found that I was still crying, but happy tears. I hope many people get to see this wonderful show.