The Tris McCall Report
October 31, 2004
TMR Readers Speak Out
My Jersey City election special turned out to be the most-viewed piece in the history of the Tris McCall Report. Lots of you read it, and many, many of you wrote in to take issue with my assessment of the contest and the direction I think we ought to move in. I'm going to post excerpts from a few of the letters I've recieved, and try to respond to them. But before I do, I'd like to thank you all for reading and writing. I hope my piece on the election broadened your own perspective. I know your letters broadened mine. Okay:
Tris,
A vote for Healy is a vote for the DeGise and Menendez machine. We can't afford to turn City Hall over to people from outside Jersey City. They have enough power already.
A vote for Healy is also a vote for Bill Gaughan. Gaughan is homophobic and is behind the anti-gay smear campaign against Lou Manzo. Healy let that happen. I don't call that courage, do you?
I must have gotten twenty letters conflating County Executive DeGise with Congressman Menendez. I don't see it. They're both members of the HCDO, sure, but upon closer inspection, they appear to be pulling in opposite directions. DeGise has endorsed Healy, but Menendez hasn't. As a matter of fact, the Congressman has been pretty public about his desire to sit this election out. It's arguable that a Healy win would be the worst possible outcome for Congressman Menendez. A strengthened alliance between DeGise (who is by no means an out-of-towner; he's Ward D) and the mayor of Jersey City, elected without the assistance of the county's undisputed heavyweight, would diminish the Congressman's perceived influence.
That's probably overbaking it. But Mayor Healy would owe no favors to Robert Menendez. Whether or not he'd owe favors to Councilman Gaughan is a far more legitimate question. I do not condone Gaughan's bizarre comments about gay elected officials. But I do not know for sure whether the Councilman has been behind the effort to hang a pink triangle around Assemblyman Manzo's neck. I agree: it would be nice to hear Healy strenuously denounce some of the ambient homophobic knocks against his opponent. Lord knows there are more than enough reasons to distrust Manzo without getting into his personal life.
Tris,
After all you've written about the Arts District, now you want to bite the hand that feeds you? Ingratitude. Before Harvey, we had a do-nothing administration with Mark Munley calling the shots on development. Under Cunningham nothing got done. We did not get the landmarking, and we did not get the Powerhouse. In three months with Harvey, there has been more achieved than in all the years under Schundler and Cunningham. Harvey is the first Mayor we've had who actually cares about artists. He has stood up for us, he understands us.
Several people wrote in, assuring me that the reason why the Acting Mayor missed the 111 demonstration and the Studio Tour is because he was attending a ceremony for his son at the University of Rhode Island. I know we like our politicians to be family men, but doesn't this sound like a really lame excuse to you? Providence is not far, and Smith was gone for the entire weekend. In order for somebody to convince me that he wasn't ducking the Tour and all that went with it, it's going to take some heavy explaining.
Though I am not going to join the rush to turn this mayor into a DeMedici, I do believe that Smith's heart is in the right place. But this contest isn't about his heart. It's about his effectiveness, and whether or not he's given us reason to believe that he will be able to translate his recent Council victories into actual achievements on the ground. Many Smith supporters are taking a longer view that I suppose I currently have the capacity to take. Because from my perspective, the arts community in Jersey City has gotten absolutely rocked under Harvey Smith. The Arts Center has been driven from crisis to crisis, and has basically been vandalized and made inhospitable. The tenants are facing eviction in court, and many will choose to leave Jersey City even if they win their cases. 110 is gone. The Friends of the Loew's have been jerked around shamelessly. There has been no progress on extending hours at area hipster bars, and no new cabaret or performance licenses have ended up in the hands of people who are looking to open clubs. Live deejaying is still essentially against the law; small businesses are still struggling. If we've made any progress toward "cool" Jersey City during the past four rudderless months, it is imperceptible to me.
But perhaps I am not looking carefully enough, and perhaps the passage of the Powerhouse Arts District plan will stand as an enormous turning point for both the Arts Center and everybody here who is looking to gather momentum for a cultural renaissance on the Hudson. I cannot understand how the collection of ordinances and regulations that constitute the PAD plan are supposed to help the community at 111 First Street, and honestly, I do not believe they were designed to do anything of the sort. But as I said when I sent my endorsement around, most of my friends are backing Smith. That includes most of the tenants remaining in the Arts Center, who certainly have the most to lose here, and whose opinions on this subject ought to weigh heavier than my own. Here's Paul Sullivan:
I am supporting L. Harvey Smith for mayor.
He pledged his support for the artists in June, and he and his staff have provided it unstintingly ever since in public and behind the scenes. In a few short months, he has gotten the long desired Warehouse Historic District Ordinance and Powerhouse Arts District Redevelopment Plan both passed into law despite furious opposition and the infamous September 8 tabling of the former. Both these votes were unanimous. L. Harvey Smith won these victories not because he is Council President, but because he is the Mayor.
In June, Harvey grew concerned with the escalating hostility of landlord Lloyd Goldman towards the artists. He gave us his cell number to call any time. Harvey has always answered himself and never failed to hear us out and act. ACT. He's come to 111 himself several times, once at midnight.
He has sent aides. He has sent lawyers to court. One aide in particular: Dave Donnelly. The joke here is that we should vote Dave for mayor, but that misses the point. Donnelly is effective and passionate because he is backed up by his boss, the Mayor.
When Goldman tried a sneak attack to get the building emptied and demolished, Mayor Smith sent a team of lawyers and inspectors to court to stop him. The city's inspectors had determined that the conditions were not nearly so bad. Goldman should fix not destroy. The judge, stunned at the seriousness with which the city responded, realized that this is more than a simple landlord-tenant squabble.
If L. Harvey Smith had not become mayor, the battle never would have been joined. No Historic District. No PAD. With Mark Munley still at HEDC, the district would have continued to be zoned by variance. 110 would eventually go. The artists at 111 would still be in helpless limbo. Eventually they and the building would go too, replaced by a rich folks' high-rise with an artist petting zoo.
L. Harvey Smith got dumped into the mayor's office. In one moment, he went from just himself and an aide to running a bureaucracy responsible for the whole city. I think he's getting the hang of the job. If he can continue to help the city the way he has the artists, then he is a strong choice on Tuesday. There is more that he wants to do to help create a vital Arts District. If he is elected, the artists stand a chance to survive and thrive at 111.
That's a powerful endorsement from a guy whose ass is very much on the line. It's true that Smith has had to improvise, and self-administer some on-the-job training. While I still don't think he has the temperament of a chief executive, he is the one candidate who has grown in stature during the campaign. His demeanor has become more statesmanlike; in debates, he's been relaxed and funny. Even his diction has improved. Could L. Harvey Smith grow into the kind of mayor we'd be proud to have? I really doubt it -- but at least he's forced us to entertain the question.
Paul also wanted me to make it clear that Junior Maldonado wasn't responsible for getting the building open during the Sunday of the Studio Tour. I knew that was true, but I acknowledge that I might have been misleading. If I implied that it was the Councilman and not the Mayor's office that sprung the lock from the door of the Arts Center, let me clarify: Maldonado was there to speak out, not to bust in. Speaking of Junior Maldonado, I am sad to say I got many versions of the following letter:
The Maldonado and Vega endorsements (of Jerramiah Healy) are a JOKE. They were not made from principle, and have not been backed up by any real street action.
Both of these guys have their sights on 280 Grove. They will probably both be running in May, and they're just backing the HCDO line because Gaughan wants them to. They probably both figure that once Healy gets beat by Manzo, they will be next in line for the Gaughan nod. The joke will be on them, because they will not be able to raise enough money and they will never get Gaughan's support. Gaughan wants to run a white candidate who can get Hispanic votes, not the other way around.
Well. Junior Maldonado may indeed be planning to run for mayor in May. I hope he does run. I think Councilman Maldonado has contributed the most memorable language to the debate about the PAD and landmarking, and that can't be underestimated. This is a town that undervalues language, and often fails to acknowledge its role in shaping popular opinion. Speech is action, and it was Maldonado's strenuous words at the Council meeting at the Jersey City Museum that set the tone for the subsequent debate. Maldonado and Vega continued to speak out passionately against Lloyd Goldman and on behalf of the Arts Center -- even when Mayor Smith appeared to be wavering. I believe these Councilpeople were sincere in their protestations, just as I believe they are sincere in their endorsements of Jerramiah Healy.
Both Maldonado and Vega have worked on the landmarking and PAD plans for years. It would be enormously frustrating to both of these guys if the district failed to develop. I cannot see either of them opting to turn the reins of government over to a candidate whose commitment to Ward E and the Powerhouse District is open to purchase. I do not think they'd be so cavalier with their endorsements.
Junior Maldonado doesn't follow William Gaughan's lead in City Council meetings. They don't always vote the same way. The idea that Maldonado is Gaughan's poodle -- or maybe just a supplicant before his throne -- doesn't work for me. I think we need to get away from the idea that the road to the HCDO runs through Gaughan's backyard. If Maldonado is planning on running for Mayor, his colleague's help would be appreciated. But it isn't necessary. Gaughan might have the warchest and the organizational connections, but Maldonado represents the City's largest and wealthiest district -- and he is popular here. Demographics are on his side, too: the percentage of Latin voters in Jersey City is growing.
Tris,
I am worried that Healy and Smith are going to split the votes of everybody Downtown, and Manzo is going to be elected. Do you know that Manzo wants to move City Hall? Do you know the connections Manzo has to property owners in the new arts district? Should it be a surprise that Manzo hasn't come out in support of the artists?
Smith is trailing in the polls. You should tell everybody who is going to vote for Smith not to waste their vote. We all have to vote for Healy to prevent Manzo from winning!
You know, Harvey Smith is trying a similar tactic. He's attempting to scare Willie Flood voters into his camp by accusing them of splitting the African-American vote. What's good for the goose is good for the gander, I guess, but I do not believe there are any sure things in municipal elections -- especially ones as closely contested as this. Every camp has released polls in an effort to demoralize their opposition. I don't know where their polling data is coming from, and I do not trust the NJCU sampling. It would not surprise me at all if Smith or even Flood was nipping at the heels of the frontrunner or actually leading this pack. This is not a Nader situation. Don't let anybody dissuade you from voting your conscience on Tuesday.
I know very well about Manzo's weird relationship to the Downtown. A Ward E voter would have to be crazy to vote for him. Taking City Hall away from Grove Street would hurt us badly. Those McCann signs on the first floor of the Morgan Building are not just there for decoration. If Manzo gets in (as I expect he will), expect nonstop fighting with the City Council, and constant challenges to the legitimacy of the PAD.
Tris,
I thought you were an independent voice but it seems you're on the take like everybody else. What did you get from the big boys in exchange for your "endorsement"?
You didn't hear? I am getting my nude photos in the New York Times.
October 30, 2004
In a move that ought to surprise exactly nobody who has been reading the paper for the past year, the Jersey Journal has endorsed Louis M. Manzo for mayor. It has frequently seemed to this reader that people close to Manzo have been heavily informing some of the stories over there. I strongly associate the Journal with old-line Jersey City, and Manzo is the candidate who has surrounded himself with the most old-liners. The paper suits the candidate.
Me, I'd like to clear as many of the cobwebs away as I can. For all the reasons I've discussed on this site, I believe the most important thing we must do on Tuesday is defeat Manzo. I'll add another reason: it'd further irk the Journal, and continue its steady slippage into irrelevancy.
Now that the Powerhouse Arts District plan has passed the Council by unanimous vote, I can admit my own ambivalence. I didn't want to say anything that would temper the enthusiasm of its supporters. I desperately wanted the Plan to pass -- it meant so much to so many people whose well-being I care about. But after reading the plan from beginning to end, as much as I'd like to see these ambitions realized, I have come to the conclusion that I can't fault anybody for having serious reservations about it.
The Powerhouse plan requires developers in the district to devote at least 10% of constructed units to arts use. That sounds reasonable. But the Plan also includes lots of restrictions on the sort of building that will be allowed in the district -- everything from rules about fencing and outdoor storage to strictures on parking lots, signage, and facades. If you were to read this and wonder (as I did) what developer is going to jump through the necessary hoops to build in the district, you might be worried (as I am) that the answer is "no developer in his right mind".
Then there's the other, and bigger issue: just designating an area an arts district doesn't bring artists into the district. The plan requires an initial three-month marketing period for all new properties in the PAD: during this period, the developers must exclusively target artists. That's a good step. But the plan also lists 140 Bay Street as a contributor. The cost for a 1br/1bath unit there approaches $400K. At that price, all the target marketing in the world could not convert that building into an arts center comparable to the one 111 First Street. Artists aren't going to be able to afford to move there. They're going to choose to relocate elsewhere -- to places less rule-governed and market-driven.
Jerramiah Healy took some heat after the PAD vote for giving only a lukewarm "aye", and for saying "I hope this works". His caveat is supposed to suggest that he's indifferent to the arts community. He might be. But I don't think that having some trepidation about this plan necessarily means you're not supportive -- or even enthusiastic -- about the arts. Anybody who tells you that they know what the PAD is going to look like in five years is snowing us, and I think Councilman Healy said the only honest and reasonable thing anybody in his position could possibly say. I hope it works, too; I hope this isn't a white elephant. There are no guarantees here.
Okay, that's the last negative thing you'll ever hear me say about the PAD. Now that it's in place, we've all got to work as hard as we can to make sure it doesn't become that white elephant. We've got to fight off the inevitable court challenges, and after we do, we have to do our best to attract new residents to the district. We have to try to replenish an area that's been ravaged by the mistreatment of the Arts Center tenants -- we've got to keep those people in Downtown Jersey City, and bring in complementary artists. Because if we don't -- if the District doesn't develop, if it just sits there and molds over, or if it becomes another condo community for commuters -- we're all going to be sporting a black eye for years.
October 28, 2004
I'm in Philly with my synthesizers today -- The Consultants, My Teenage Stride, and Palomar are playing tonight at Bryn Mawr. I wanted to quickly write in and let everybody know, if you don't know already, that the Powerhouse Arts District plan was passed the City Council unanimously last night. Again, this doesn't do anything by itself. It doesn't save the Arts Center. But it's tremendously validating for those who have been involved in this struggle. Okay, lots more tomorrow!
As you might imagine, I got lots of e-mail yesterday. Over the next few days, I'm going to do my best to reply to everybody who wrote in for comments or clarification. But I had to respond immediately to a piece of mail I got from an unexpected source: Hudson County Executive Tom DeGise, who I treated harshly (and rock-crit hyperbolically) during the course of my endorsement of his candidate, Jerramiah Healy. The County Executive took issue with my suggestion that he's had anything to do with the troubles in the Warehouse District, saying unequivocally that he supports the arts community. He also promised to be available to us for dialogue on these and other issues after the election is over, and pledges never to duck a tough question. That's certainly meaningful to me.
Many of you have been dropping me lines and letting me know that you find Healy's association with Tom DeGise deeply troubling. I commend DeGise for his openness, and for his willingness to read and to write in. Let's take him up on his offer, and be sure to talk to him about our concerns.
October 26, 2004
I've given this a lot of thought; probably more thought than it deserves. But after looking at the contest from as many angles as I could, this turns out to be a surprisingly easy decision. Councilman Healy isn't the greatest candidate you'll ever vote for, but he's far from the worst. And he is certainly the class of this admittedly underpowered field.
I have watched Jerramiah Healy for a few months now, and with growing curiosity. His behavior at City Council meetings has been revealing: never arrogant, usually informed, respectful of the other Councilmembers, direct, thoughtful. At debates, he's neither been argumentative nor flashy -- he says his piece, sits down, and actually listens to the other candidates. He is straightforward. He doesn't bullshit the audience.
By all accounts, Healy is honest, open, and fair. If there's been any evidence to the contrary, I haven't seen it. Fairness, openness and honesty are not always trump cards in electoral politics. But Jersey City has suffered from so much dishonesty and double-dealing, so many closed-door shenanigans, and so much unfairness that the name of our municipality has become an international watchword for political corruption. Before we can make ourselves a world-class city, we need to shed ourselves of that image. I believe that electing Jerramiah Healy is the surest step we can take toward that outcome.
So there's the short form endorsement. Character matters, and Healy strikes me as the contender who is best positioned to turn his own strength of character to the advantage of Jersey City. There's lots more to it than that, and if you read on, I'll get into the specific differences between Councilman Healy and his opponents. But at base this endorsement comes down to the simple belief that a Healy administration will be more open, more honest, and more fair than those we've struggled through in the past. The Jersey City we are becoming -- a truly multicultural city of small businesses, arts, interrelated neighborhoods -- does not correspond in any way to the thuggish legacy of our twentieth-century experience. In order to keep growing and to continue attracting businesses, artists, musicians, we need to jettison our colorful, well-deserved, and crippling reputation for corruption, backroom bossism, and governmental incompetence. There is no guarantee here that Healy is the man for the job, but he has given me reason to hope. And in 2004, hope has been a scarce enough commodity that it would be foolish for me to waste it.
Before you fire off that angry e-mail to me, allow me to explain by way of comparison why I've come to believe that Jerremiah Healy is our wisest choice.
Jerramiah Healy, L. Harvey Smith, and the Arts Center
For reasons that I do not entirely understand, some members of the Downtown arts community have chosen to forgive Acting Mayor Smith for his vacillating behavior during the battle over historic preservation of the warehouse district, the landlord-imposed lockdown of 111 First Street, and the Studio Tour. The argument goes something like this: even though the Arts Center has, under his watch, been defiled, knocked around, and nearly evacuated, and even though New Gold and BLDG has been able to raze the Old Gold smokestack and 110 First and treat its tenants (many of whom are longtime contributors to the social fabric) like garbage in the process, Mayor Smith deserves our support because his heart has been in the right place.
Surely the passage of the landmarking and the steady progress of the Powerhouse Arts District plan aren't bad things. But they're not worth the paper they're printed on if they don't manage to help keep our arts community intact. If they don't, they're just empty ordinances -- more meaningless lines on the municipal ledger. They're inspiring lines, sure. But those lines weren't written by L. Harvey Smith -- and it is completely inaccurate of us to assign credit for them to him simply because the legislation passed through his desk. At no point has Smith been an articulate spokesman on behalf of the arts community, and the current mess at 111 and the brick heap that used to be 110 speaks volumes about his effectiveness as an advocate. During the Studio Tour, when Lloyd Goldman's private army put a lock on the door of the Arts Center and harassed visitors, Mayor Smith didn't even bother to show up on First Street.
But other politicians did. Ward E Councilman Junior Maldonado came down to First Street to speak out on behalf of the Arts Center. That's no anomaly -- Councilman Maldonado has been our most reliable friend in City Hall for months now. It has been Maldonado and Councilman Mariano Vega who have led the vocal resistance to Goldman's tactics. It is Maldonado and Vega who have used the hard language against the landlord, and Maldonado and Vega who have shown they understand that we're fighting for an arts community -- and not merely for an arts district. And Junior Maldonado and Mariano Vega are both supporting Jerramiah Healy for Mayor.
This is no accident. Maldonado and Vega have served on the City Council with both of these guys. If they've decided that Healy would make a better leader than Harvey Smith, I think they're probably in a pretty good position to make that determination. Through the haze of my own cynicism, I have come to believe that the Arts Center is a meaningful concept to both of these Councilpeople. I don't think they would lend their support to any candidate for mayor whom they felt couldn't handle a crisis situation with an out-of-control landlord. Jerramiah Healy is from Ward D and wouldn't know the Arts Center from a Quonset hut. Yet Maldonado and Vega choose to back the cultural newbie rather than an Acting Mayor whose stands on 111 are a matter of public record. That is a major-league vote of no confidence in Harvey Smith -- one from the two principal advocates of the arts community.
I remember that heartbreaking evening when Mayor Smith tabled the landmarking ordinance to engage in a bad-faith negotiation with Lloyd Goldman. He did so over the objection of Councilman Maldonado, who surely could have told him that he was being bamboozled. It didn't matter: Smith wasn't listening. He did what he frequently does -- he slammed the door on discourse, and ham-handedly forced his position through the Council. Jerramiah Healy was also there that night, and he surprised me by bucking the Mayor and standing behind Mr. Maldonado. He listened to the Ward E Councilman's objections, took them under consideration, and responded after giving the issue some careful thought. Healy did what Smith seems incapable of doing: he deferred to somebody who knew more about the subject than he did. He didn't do it on behalf of an Arts First crusade, because that's not what motivates him. He did it because it was the fair and decent thing to do, and because he's committed to listening.
I don't mean to suggest that fairness can take the place of comprehensive knowledge of a subject. But so much of what has happened to the arts community at 111 First Street has been so flagrantly unfair that electing a Mayor who puts equanimity at the core of his value system can only help. And I do not believe that Jerramiah Healy would ever be hoodwinked as shamefully as Harvey Smith was on September 8, or allow himself to go into a major meeting so woefully unprepared.
Jerramiah Healy, Louis M. Manzo, and the HCDO
Councilman Healy is the favored candidate of the county Democratic organization. He won this designation by default, since HCDO honchos do not relish the thought of trying to work with Assemblyman Manzo, they are not sanguine about the chances of Mr. Smith holding up under public scrutiny, Ms. Flood is the candidate of the enemy HCRDO, and Councilman Lipski seems to have decided he is a Republican sympathizer. If the HCDO machine is beating the bushes to make Healy mayor, I don't see much evidence of its labor. I lived in Union City for years: I know what a Menendez-driven HCDO campaign looks like. (It looks like the sort of saturation-bombing-by-poster currently favored by Assemblyman Manzo.) I haven't seen Congressman Menendez stumping for the Councilman, and I doubt very much that he'll be turning up at any rallies. The HCDO has not imposed its will, its flavor, or its pace on Jerramiah Healy's run for City Hall. Why, then, do detractors assume that Healy will roll over and allow the county machine to dictate municipal policy?
Look, I don't like Tom DeGise, either. But if Tom DeGise backs Jerramiah Healy, that doesn't mean that he has picked up the Councilman and tossed him into his pocket. An endorsement is just that: a public statement of support. Accepting the endorsement of the County Executive is not the equivalent of making a disreputable former mayor and convicted felon your Chief of Staff -- no matter how much raffish charm that former mayor has, and no matter how much everybody hates the County Executive. Councilman Healy has not allowed his backers to dictate the pace or character of his campaign. Mr. Manzo, on the other hand, has done everything but morph into Gerry McCann.
I'm not stupid; I recognize that if Healy manages to win the election, we'll want to watch his relationship with DeGise very closely to make sure there isn't any funny business. But when we assume that the funny business will be an automatic happenstance, we're being unfair to a Councilman known for his fairness. Beyond that, wouldn't it be nice to have a chief executive in Jersey City who isn't waging perpetual and counterproductive warfare with the County government? If Jerramiah Healy does get along with Congressman Menendez and Tom DeGise, is that really such a bad thing? The sitting mayor of Jersey City has to work with the County Executive and the HCDO whether he wants to or not. He does not have to work with aggressive ex-Mayors with criminal records. That's optional.
Jerramiah Healy, Willie Flood, and Jersey nostalgia
What's really scary about McCann's involvement in this campaign is how unapologetically thrilled so many people who really ought to know better have been about getting the old rogue back. I'm sure the day will come when the McCann Eighties will be far enough in the rear view that we can all kick back and reflect on how amusing the ex-Mayor was and is. But that day is not today. McCann put a black mark on Jersey City Hall -- and, by extension, the entire city -- that subsequent administrations have not entirely erased. It can be tough to see from this vantage point, but businesses, artists, and residents continue to shy away from Jersey City because of our reputation for corruption. Gerald McCann didn't invent that reputation, but he did more to propagate it than any other politician in the second half of the Twentieth Century. He needs to be retired, cashired, kept far, far away from the reins of power.
Willie Flood's longing for the Cunningham years isn't quite as dangerous, but it's similarly paralyzing. It suggests that we've got more to gain from spinning our wheels than we do from pushing forward. Flood has chosen to make her campaign about somebody else's legacy, and in so doing, she's ignoring the historical specificity of the current moment. Mr. Cunningham made his contribution to Jersey City; Bret Schundler, too. Their times have come and gone. Resurrecting these figures -- or summoning the undead McCann -- is not a helpful practice. It reflects badly on the candidates who indulge in these blasts from the past: it makes them look like they're out of ideas.
Jerramiah Healy does not bother with nostalgia. His City Hall will not be a visitation of ghosts from prior administrations. It will be a government aligned to face an entirely new set of challenges: the challenges of 2005 and beyond.
Jerramiah Healy, Steve Lipski, and tax abatements
The Councilman's debate performances have not been supersonic -- but nor has he been a discursive stumblebum. Because Healy is so direct and clear about his resolutions and positions, he doesn't end up tying himself in the kind of rhetorical knots that have earned the Ward C Councilman the nickname "Flipski." Now, I believe that Councilman Lipski's stand on tax abatements -- and his contention that the Flintkote developer should get government assistance to build on some of the highest-valued urban land in New Jersey -- is internally consistent. But since it's next to impossible to untangle, I'm working on faith.
There's no such need when you're listening to Councilman Healy. He believes the power to abate should be reserved to stimulate growth in poorer areas of the city, and he is against Downtown abatements. He is frank and realistic about our need to expand our ratables base, and I believe he was, again, flashing his no-bullshit sincerity at the Loew's debate when he complained that the public doesn't understand abatement policy. I'm a member of the public, and I admit I don't really understand abatement policy. Yet certain things are intuitive: give tax breaks to encourage investment in places where people don't want to go, refrain from giving abatements in areas where everybody and his cousin are looking to barge in. It is on Councilman Lipski to explain where the holes are in that logic. I don't believe he has done that to anyone's satisfaction -- not even his own, perhaps.
I have yet to see Jerramiah Healy attempt to snow a public gathering. At the Loew's, he steadfastly refused to take the easy way out on any questions, instead speaking with a frankness that bordered on awkwardness. At Cordero High School, he wouldn't dance around the subject of tax cuts: instead, he talked about the costs of programs, and the need to raise money. He spoke directly and unflinchingly about the fiscal challenges that Jersey City faces, and he refused to sugarcoat our financial problems. While other candidates took hyperbolic and increasingly unfunny whacks at each other, Healy engaged with the substance of the questions, and answered without acrimony or cheekiness. I think we can depend on this man to level with us.
Jerramiah Healy vs. everybody else
On Thursday, the 14th of October, there was a debate at the Cordero School on Erie Street. Councilman Healy sat up on stage with several of the other well-known candidates, and five or six others who aren't so well-known. You might have been there, and if you were, you can probably recite some of the names: Alfred Marc Pine, Hilario Nunez, Isaiah Gadsden, Hosam Mansour. These guys are supposed to be fresh-faced, young insurgents; symbols of the new Jersey City. Anyway, there was a guy in the audience with a videocamera. Manzo, being Manzo, had a conniption fit and insisted that the cameraman be removed from the auditorium. Only after armed police had escorted the guy out of the room did the Assemblyman settle down.
Many of us in the crowd (me included) were pretty rattled by this act of blatant censorship. I don't suppose there were too many other card-carrying indie types in the forum, but I was personally offended: I felt like I'd been treated like a terrorist. I expected to see some of those young insurgent candidates onstage turn and denounce the shutdown -- after all, what did they really have to lose? Here was an opportunity to be a folk hero, and to make some waves for a worthy cause.
Not one of them did. They sat up there with big, self-conscious grins, entirely okay with the Manzo bully-boy treatment. Only Councilman Healy spoke up. He didn't exactly shake the rafters with his protest, but in his temperate, gentlemanly way, he let everybody know that he felt that the Assemblyman's behavior was excessive and unseemly.
At that moment, Jerramiah Healy won my vote. He's had it ever since.
P.S. On the "nude photo" controversy
Some of you might know that there are photographs circulating around the Internet of Councilman Healy drunk and naked; even The New York Times picked up on the story. Why anybody would want to look at nude shots of a 55 year-old balding guy is beyond me; maybe Gerry McCann and Louis Manzo are gambling that Jersey City is more pervy than many other municipalities. But if these shots were supposed to dissuade me from voting for Healy, the Manzo people are out of luck. I am a rock and roller by profession, and most of my friends are too; I imagine we all have debaucherous shots of ourselves sitting around somewhere. I don't throw stones at party people, and I do not condemn anybody for getting wild on the weekends. Yes, even politicians.
These shots are supposed to hurt because they're meant to corroborate with the widely-circulated smear that Jerramiah Healy is a drunk. Again, in my line of work, I encounter lots of drunks. None of them behaves with the evenhandedness, equilibrium and poise that characterize Healy in his public appearances. But even if the Councilman does like to drain a few cups, that's certainly no crime. You'd have to show me the evidence that drinking has affected Healy's judgement or job performance. Barring that, I'm simply going to chalk this one up to further McCann slime-peddling and deflection. Healy's alcohol consumption is a matter for speculation, but Gerry McCann's criminal record is a stone cold fact.
I am pleased to see that the rumors aren't impairing the Councilman's ability to enjoy himself. At the Irish Festival at Exchange Place, he had a big mug of brewski, and he looked pretty happy about it, too. I'm a teetotaler, but I believe that a municipality that doesn't know how to party is a municipality that's not worth governing. I hope to raise a glass of my own to a Healy victory on November 2.
In Search Of Willie Flood
I met Willie Flood by the old Ward F headquarters this summer. She wasn't an official candidate for mayor yet, but at the time, she was acting like one: shaking hands, smiling, chatting with children and seniors. I came to the same conclusion then that thousands of Jersey City residents have reached since -- Willie Flood is a very sweet person. Unlike Acting Mayor Smith, who strikes me as thin-skinned and irritable, former Councilwoman Flood seems genuinely warm and caring. If we were to apply the old G.W. Bush "beer buddy test" to the current group of candidates, I don't know if Willie Flood would be the popular choice. But I don't drink beer, and if I had to share an ice cream cone with any of the hopefuls, Flood would win going away.
Since the summer, though -- really since she announced -- I haven't seen Willie Flood. Some of that is my own fault: I'm downtown almost all of the time, and Flood's support is based elsewhere. But some of it is hers, too. She wasn't at the Downtown Neighborhood Coalition debates, and I understand she was speaking elsewhere that evening. A nasty-toned, typically condescending article in the New York Times lampooned her Jersey Avenue Headquarters as a "Glenn Cunningham death cult." I don't think there's anything intrinsically tackier about putting up pictures of Cunningham in your HQ than there is in covering your windows with your own mug; and besides, the Flood office is much, much nicer than the rat traps the other candidates have opened.
Unfortunately, though, that Flood HQ is almost always closed. I've come to think of it as the Holidays of Jersey City politics. Holidays always looked so handsome and enticing from the outside, but posted operating hours that bore no resemblance to its actual schedule, and so continually frustrated my attempts to get a waffle there. Eventually, business practices like that will drive you under, and today, there's no more Holidays on Grove Street. Mondays are for extending metaphors, so let's keep going: Holidays was a really good restaurant, but there was always something noncommittal and half-assed about it, and eventually people noticed. Similarly, there is something noncommittal and half-assed about Willie Flood's run for mayor. And I've noticed.
Willie Flood needed to defend herself against the obvious charge that she's a Trojan horse being run by the remnants of Cunningham's Hudson County Reform Democratic Organization, its house organ The Urban Times News, and the infamous Cardwell-Jackson machine that besmirched City Hall during the prior administration. Instead, she has tacked hard in the opposite direction. Every piece of campaign literature she has sent out has been vague, platitudinous, short on specifics. When in doubt, she has reaffirmed her association with the late Mayor Cunningham. She has made "Continuing The Legacy" her campaign theme, and seems content to sit back and suggest that her administration would be an extention of the last one.
Well, maybe. Mr. Cunningham, for all his faults, was a strong personality and a dominating force in New Jersey politics. Willie Flood has not shown herself to be. Of the five major candidates, hers has been the least vigorous and least-defined campaign. If she's launched a website, I haven't been able to find it. When interviewed, her answers to questions aren't particularly forceful. There are lingering questions about her physical health.
It is arguable that Flood, an advocate and representative of the city's most neglected ward, deserves our highest office so she can put the cities most powerful municipal machinery at the service of its weakest residents. I understand that, and I sympathize with it. But if it's wrong to ignore Ward F, it's also unjustifiable to romanticize it. As we learned during the Cunningham Adminstration, there are wolves in that neck of the woods, too. Willie Flood needs to show that she is tough enough to impose her will on her backers, and define an identity separate from that of the HCRDO. So far, she's failed to do that.
So a week before election day, here we stand. One candidate wants to revive the past administration. Another associates himself in campaign ads with the administration before that. The frontrunner, a four-time mayoral hopeful himself, has gone one better (or worse, if you look at it the way I do) and has revived figures from the discredited administration before that. Under the ad-hoc Smith Administration, Jersey City present has been floating rudderless. Me, I'm interested in Jersey City future. Tomorrow, I'm going to try to explain what I consider the best way to get there from here.
October 23, 2004
Steve Lipski -- Lt. Schundler, Junior Grade
The Flintkote property is right outside our flat. We're on the northeast side of the Grand Street-Marin Boulevard intersection; Flinkote would be on the southwest. Right now, it's a vacant lot by the big blue Boys and Girls Club building. The Marin Boulevard light rail station is just beyond the property. It's a five minute walk to Grove Street, and seven to Exchange Place. Paulus Hook is a beautiful neighborhood. This is an attractive piece of land -- one that any developer would be lucky to grab.
I have no objection whatsoever to residential development on this lot. It would please me greatly if a portion of that residential development could be be set aside for folks who don't make bond trader's salaries, but that's an entirely separate argument. There are folks downtown who want to discourage any development on this land. They may as well attempt to stop the sun from rising tomorrow morning. Land values in Paulus Hook are stupid-high right now, and they're just going to get higher. People want to move here, and we ought to be happy and accomodating neighbors.
But that doesn't mean we have to roll over to the demands of construction companies. With builders drooling over every inch of vacant land, there's no plausible way to argue that development in Paulus Hook needs government assistance. The developer of the Flintkote property wants an enormous tax break, and despite a threatened veto by Harvey Smith, the abatement is probably going to happen. (I should clarify here: Smith has been all over the place on Flintkote, and nobody really knows for sure where he stands on the issue.)
Much of the renovated downtown was made possible by tax abatements. Bret Schundler used abatements as an enticement for businesses to relocate to Jersey City. I was ambivalent about the ratables chase at the time, and a decade later, I'm still wondering if the end result was worth the price we had to pay. But Waterfront 1992 was a very different place from Downtown 2004. Currently, there are many Jersey City neighborhoods that, arguably, require attention and tax assistance. With its huge office towers and widespread condominium development, the Downtown is not one of them.
Councilman and mayoral candidate Steve Lipski is the most adamant and prominent supporter of the Flintkote tax abatement. Lipski has received campaign contributions from Dean Geibel, the developer of the Flintkote property; Lipski opponents have spoken of Geibel "bankrolling" the Ward C Councilman's campaign. But Lipski strikes me as a pretty honest, hardworking guy, and I don't believe his vote on the Council is for sale. I believe Lipski honestly thinks that a huge tax abatement on a property in the middle of one of the hottest real estate markets in North Jersey is good policy.
To justify this proposition -- one that, on the face of it, seems ridiculous -- Lipski has shown himself willing to tie himself into rhetorical knots. Some of these are as sturdy and handsome as any shipman's knot, and I give Lipski credit for running up his patchwork sail in an unfriendly wind. But the Councilman knows that most voters aren't going to take the time to untangle his positions, especially when they seem so counterintuitive. Consequently, Lipski has gone to a kind of rhetorical shorthand: he's decided to align himself with Mr. Schundler. (It's doubtful that the former mayor will bother to return the compliment -- but stranger things have happened, and you've got to cast your line into the ocean before you can catch a fish.)
In Lipski's campaign literature, the Councilman is pictured shaking hands and, quite literally, looking up to Bret Schundler. Lipski positively beams at the Republican, while Schundler stares, statesmanlike, at the camera. "Today, Steve Lipski is working with Bret Schundler..." the Councilman promises. This might strike some people as refreshingly bipartisan,while others will find it a craven attempt by the Councilman to hitch his wagon to a much better-known and better-loved politician. Then again, Lipski is the major candidate whose ideological positions most closely resemble Mr. Schundler's. He has been extremely active in the charter school movement. He is eager to use the power to abate taxes -- even Downtown. And as we learned at the Cordero School debate, he can talk like a Republican on foreign policy issues, too.
I like Steve Lipski. In many ways, I find him the Anti-Manzo: I don't agree with him on any of his positions, but I think his openness, inquisitiveness, and relatively personable nature make him a welcome addition to a mayoral campaign that has frequently seemed like a battle among rogues. Yet his decision to run as a Democrat in Schundler's clothing -- a kind of stealth version of the two-term Republican -- feels like a failure of imagination at best, and a failure of character at worse.
Mayor Schundler may have performed a necessary scrubbing and shining of Jersey City's public image after the slime of the McCann years. For that, he deserves our respect. But in 2004, we no longer need or desire Schundler's approach. Abating taxes on Downtown properties may or may not have made sense when there was nothing but crummy LeFrak towers on the waterfront. It doesn't make sense now. Schundler's day is over, and all the candidates ought to realize that we need to figure out a way to move Jersey City into the future, not rehash policies and personalities from the administrations of the eighties and nineties. Beyond that, Councilman Steve Lipski is not Bret Schundler -- he is not an outsider battling to wedge open the door of municipal government. He's a sitting member of the City Council, and a Democrat among Democratic officeholders. If he'd like my respect rather than my vague sympathy and well-wishes, he should start behaving like one.
Quick story. We were walking on Erie Street today, and we noticed there was a Jerramiah Healy headquarters between Third and Fourth Streets. We peeked in the window. It was definitely the crummiest-looking HQ I've seen downtown so far, but unlike the Flood offices on Jersey Avenue, it seems like it's being used. The door was locked, and I figured they were just off somewhere else campaigning. It's no secret that Councilman Healy's real base of operations is up in the Heights. Anyway, just as we turned to leave, a Healy operative hustled over to us. I think he might have mistaken us for volunteers or something, because he handed us a huge stack of leaflets (the same ones Healy has been distributing all month) and turned to usher us into the headquarters.
That's where he ran into a problem. See, he couldn't get his key into the door. Somebody had screwed with the mechanism, and broken the lock. I took a closer look at the door, and I saw the sabotage clearly: it was a crude job, but effective. On a day when the Councilman was scheduled to make an appearance downtown, Healy's workers were shut out of their own headquarters.
There have been talk all summer and autumn about the McCann people attempting to undermine competing campaigns -- paintballing opposition headquarters, stealing and defacing signs, the whole menagerie of petty municipal election tactics. Today I saw it for myself: these stories are no bullshit. The McCann-Manzo camp continues to run a campaign that seems lifted from the bad old days of Jersey City past. I believe that saying no to Manzo is the most crucial thing we can do in order to bring Jersey City into the twenty-first century. It's time we put our image of corruption and childishness behind us.
October 20, 2004
Okay, my for-pay writing assignments are now out of the way. That means I can turn my attention in earnest to this upcoming mayoral election. Over the next twelve days, that's all I'll be writing about. If you're looking for a review of the new Interpol album or something, there's always Stylus.
So I have been running around like crazy all week this week, trying to finish writing assignments. I will be back next week with a few more candidate reaction pieces (and an endorsement), but I feel I must comment on the Downtown mayoral debate at the Cordero School. No matter how single-minded I sometimes seem in this forum, at heart I tend to be ambivalent, and I went into the debate expecting to feel like I was overly harsh on Louis Manzo. Instead, I had my worst suspicions about the Assemblyman's aggressiveness confirmed, and I left thinking that I ought to do whatever I could to prevent Manzo from becoming mayor.
If you don't know what I'm talking about, it had absolutely nothing to do with any of the issues discussed. (As a matter of fact, I agree with Manzo about almost everything: tax abatements, schools, needle exchange, alternate sources of funding, etc.) Instead, Manzo infuriated me with his behavior between the questions. There was a guy in the audience with a video camera, and Manzo made a gigantic show of his disapproval. While other candidates were attempting to answer questions, Manzo stalked around the stage, attracted the attention of the moderator, and pointed at the cameraman like a kid at a circus.
The guy was quickly surrounded by cops, and escorted from the crowd. As Mr. Manzo sat up there looking smug, the rest of the field -- some of them young insurgents who should know better -- did absolutely nothing. (That includes the irritating Mr. Pine, who squandered whatever moral high ground he claimed at the Loews when he was barred from that debate.) Only, Councilman Healy bothered to speak up on behalf of the indie journalist, and he did so apologetically.
I don't care if the cameraman was a personal enemy of Mr. Manzo. We don't need another thin-skinned, aggressive, censorious mayor. There is a problem with civic transparency in this town: we haven't got any. On Thursday night at the Cordero School, I felt like we got a glimpse of what a Manzo City Hall might be like. Only a Soviet Russian could have approved of it.
October 15, 2004
I have no comment on this other than obvious ones about squeaky wheels. We'll see how the FOL does. It's on them now.
Louis M. Manzo -- The Company You Keep
If you live in Jersey City, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Lou Manzo is running for mayor. His signs and posters are up on everything: windows, storefronts, gates, taped to trees and wheat-pasted to lampposts; the Manzo people will hang a sign on you if you don't move quickly enough. If municipal elections are won by name recognition, it's no surprise that Manzo is first in the polls. Other candidates have complained -- sometimes loudly -- that the Manzo campaign is littering, or at least creating visual blight. There is no sign that the Assemblyman is listening, or slowing the pace of his relentless self-promotion.
There's a Manzo headquarters right next door to our flat. Every single day as I leave the house, I'm approached by a Manzo operative. I'm asked to volunteer for Mr. Manzo, to make phone calls, to pledge my undying support. Mostly, though, I am asked if I want a sign. When I've pointed out -- on several occasions now -- that our landlord has already posted a Manzo sign on our front gate, and that the operative has just seen me emerging from that gate, I am asked if I want a sign for our second floor window. The Manzo camp is not bothered by the aesthetics of overkill.
I tell this story in no degree of amazement: when I lived in Union City, this is how the HCDO kept its tight grip on the reins of government. I am used to overzealous flacks. But Jersey City is not Union City -- it is bigger, deeper, better-educated, less dependent on municipal machine politics. There is an aggressiveness and desperation to the Manzo campaign that I find distasteful, and that does not jibe with the Jersey City I know. It seems small-town and small-time, an irruption, an intervention from a prior version of Jersey City that is becoming increasingly inactive.
If you are a liberal urban Democrat (and if you're reading this, no matter what ideological hat you're trying on during this election season, you probably are) it's doubtful that you'll find anything objectionable in Louis Manzo's voting record. But voting records don't run for office -- people do. The fundamental aggressiveness of the Manzo campaign pervades every aspect of his run, and threatens to drown out his ideological positions. His circulars have been attention-grabbing, and nearly threatening: one mailer featured a photograph of a handgun. His supporters have been loud, vituperative, unforgiving. If you read Hudson County political message boards -- which I really don't recommend that you do -- you can always tell the Manzo employees. There is an edge of desperation and bitterness to their posts that the other flacks can't generate. They proceed with urgency; they tear down the signs of their competitors. They behave like they are fighting for their lives.
Ex-Mayor Gerald McCann, whose active participation in the campaign the Assemblyman has made no attempt to disguise, probably has something to do with the aggressiveness, and the desperation, too. No name in Jersey City politics is more loaded with implication than McCann's. The former Mayor dominated Jersey City during the Eighties, getting himself in and out of hot water until he was finally arrested and imprisoned for fraud at the dawn of the Nineties. It was the forced resignation of McCann that prompted the special election that led to Bret Schundler's election -- and, I would argue, an accompanying change of tenor throughout town.
McCann's administration was marked by aggression. I know this from personal experience: my godfather was one of Mr. McCann's boys. His was a rough-and-tumble City Hall, a two-fisted City Hall, an interventionist City Hall marked by patronage, backroom deals, brawling, boys' club Democratic politics. During the Eighties, the Jersey City municipal government was constantly fending off charges of corruption. After his jail term, McCann tried to reintegrate himself into Hudson County politics, running for Freeholder and Mayor, and backing and advising aspiring officeholders. His perceived influence might outpace his actual pull, but then again, it might not. Considering his protracted trouble with the law and his public reputation, it is both remarkable and telling that he continues to be a major player in local politics.
Now he lends his expertise and acumen to Louis Manzo's latest bid for the city's highest office. The Harvey Smith administration has been, at best, a power vacuum, and it is altogether possible that a shrewd reader of public sentiment like McCann could judge this the perfect moment to step into the breach. If anybody thought that the business-friendly technocracy of Mayor Schundler and the gentility and multiculturalism of Mayor Cunningham had dusted the vampires of the Seventies and Eighties for good, we've watched them stagger from the crypt en masse this year as if the boomtown reorientation of Jersey City never happened. Ghosts stream through the spaces between the new glass skyscrapers, bearing the faces of the convicted -- the venerable rascals and antiheroes of Grove Street past, amusing, colorful, seductively sympathetic, and entirely wrong for the Jersey City of the new millennium.
Louis Manzo does not equal Gerald McCann. The ex-Mayor is no longer a young man, and it is extremely unlikely that he will concern himself with the day-to-day mechanics of municipal governance in a Manzo administration. Yet the fact remains that Manzo has run a very McCann-like campaign so far -- the erstwhile environmentalist and high-minded foe of developers has been the candidate most regularly accused of dirty tricks and needlessly aggressive behavior. No matter how strenuously the Assemblyman insists otherwise, a Manzo government will be loaded with McCann appointees. At the Loew's debate, Councilman Lipski made a point to mention Manzo's willingness to cut his friend and delinquent municipal employee Daniel McMahon a preposterous amount of slack. McMahon's case may be a special one, but Assemblyman Manzo is well-acquainted with the greasy machinery of the spoils system.
Mayor McCann was never a friend to the Arts District. Manzo hasn't taken a stand on the Arts Center or on the Powerhouse, and his silence on these issues has spoken volumes. In his campaign literature, the Assemblyman has cast his run as a crusade against the sitting City Council. Since his opponents include three Councilmembers, this move might seem politically expedient: a method by which Manzo seeks to frame his run as an insurgency against a do-nothing legislative body. But when Manzo kicks aggressively against the sitting Council, he also denigrates its recent achievements -- including the Historic Preservation and the adoption of the Powerhouse plan. I don't usually like to play the association game with politicians -- all of these guys know each other, and Manzo has been active enough in Jersey City politics to mount three serious campaigns for mayor prior to this latest effort -- but I'd be remiss if I failed to point out that McCann has always been very close with Lloyd Goldman attorney Robert Cavanaugh. In light of this constellation of relationships, it's impossible to view Manzo's reluctance to speak out on behalf of the Arts Center -- and his repeated castigations of the City Council -- as anything other than trouble for the Powerhouse district.
It goes on. Manzo has made a show of support for the Friends of the Loew's. That's great. But his most vocal advocate at the F.O.L. is Pat O'Melia, host of the AM radio show Hudson County's Talking. O'Melia epitomizes aggressive behavior, and, after listening to his program, he strikes me as heartless. His on-air bully-boy treatment of 111 First Street artists in the wake of their receipt of eviction notices was one of the cruelest public acts I've ever been privy to: O'Melia took the air and screamed "the building is coming down" over and over, as if he was trying to blow its walls apart with his own bluster. The day after the Studio Tour, Goldman attorney Michelle Berliner was a featured guest on Hudson County's Talking, where O'Melia allowed her to behave in all of the nasty and misleading ways that I've covered on this site time and again. Nobody listens to Hudson County's Talking, so I can't imagine either hatchet job did much immediate damage to the cause. But the thought of O'Melia getting a role -- any role -- in a Manzo administration makes me shudder. The last thing we need is more public officials who enjoy kicking Jersey City residents -- especially those whose contribution to our public culture is so substantial -- while they're down.
Cavanaugh may not have orchestrated Berliner's appearance on O'Melia's show, and McCann may not have transmitted his position on the Arts District to Louis Manzo. But in my experience, where there's smoke, there's fire; and there is enough smoke here to cloud a warehouse district. The Manzo camp scares the hell out of me. The Assemblyman has surrounded himself with some of the most aggressive people in town -- guys with nothing to lose, veteran politicians looking for a last hurrah. They will sing him into office no matter what it takes, and they will keep the tune going straight through the November elections. After that, it's anybody's guess -- but if you're an artist, or an arts advocate, you might be facing a long, cold winter.
Assemblyman Manzo is an articulate speaker, and an experienced legislator, and, at least on paper, a political progressive. By any standard, he is qualified to be the mayor of Jersey City, and frankly, I expect him to win this special election. He has the most devoted and pathetically desperate organization, and that gives him a weird tactical advantage over his foes. Whether he'll still be standing after June 2005 is another question altogether. I can imagine a Manzo administration crashing and burning amidst scandal and recrimination far easier than I can any other major candidate's -- including that of the hapless Mr. Smith. But it is more likely that Louis Manzo's successful run will be remembered in future years not as a return to Hudson County machine-political basics, but as the final stand of a coterie of Jersey City giants. Those giants -- and the aggressive, in-your-face campaign approaches they favor -- are now anachronisms, whether my next-door neighbors acknowledge it or not. The Union City model no longer fits Jersey City. And though it may take us seven months to realize it, Louis M. Manzo does not fit Jersey City, either.
October 12, 2004
I've written before that I don't think it's necessarily true that the Friends of the Loew's are the best people to manage the old Theatre -- but since they've put the work in to restore it, fairness dictates that they get the first crack at it. Instead, they've gotten seriously jerked around by the City. I'm reprinting FOL chief Patricia Giordan's letter to supporters here, because in case you were still considering voting for Harvey Smith, I think you ought to know precisely what kind of backstabbing tactics you're tacitly condoning. All of the Harvey Smith signature moves are here: misrepresentation, poor communication, springing bad news on a (former) supporter at a news conference, unilateral decisionmaking, and an underpinning cowardice. Okay, here's Patricia:
In a so-called “Memo” – really, a political ad – that was placed in last Friday’s Jersey Journal, acting Mayor L. Harvey Smith attempted to portray Friends of the Loew’s as wanting to make unreasonable changes in the lease of the Loew’s Jersey Theatre. This is not only wrong, but is the most astonishing inaccuracy I have yet encountered in the seventeen years I have volunteered my time trying to save and restore the Loew’s against the Byzantine backdrop of Jersey City government.
Friends of the Loew’s has not asked for any changes. We accept AS-IS the lease that Mayor Smith and the City Council approved three times! We were ready to sign the lease at a press conference held back on June 10, when Mayor Smith unexpectedly announced he would not sign because of legal technicalities. At that time, the Mayor pledged to sign the lease in two weeks. He has not yet done so. But in the four months that have passed, it has been Mayor Smith who has demanded an ever increasing number of changes, such as forcing FOL into a partnership with a city-controlled entity that would effectively render the lease meaningless, and cutting the extended term of the lease by 40%, thereby making it harder to meet the requirements of many foundations and other grant sources.
In considering how inexplicable this truly is, it must be remembered that Mayor Smith is a principal architect of the lease. Sixteen months ago, he and I appointed the joint FOL-City Council committee to write the lease. Smith’s charge to the committee was “to find out what FOL needs” to finally be able to fundraise, make long range plans, and accelerate the restoration and operation of the Loew’s. And I must say that in all my years with the Loew’s, no committee has worked harder to meet the needs of both the Loew’s and the City. As Council President, Smith praised the work of the committee and led the City Council to approve the lease it wrote three times.
This is why the glaring inaccuracies in Mayor Smith’s ad are all the more incomprehensible. For instance:
- Contrary to what Mayor Smith claimed, FOL will receive no more support from the City than he and the rest of the City Council already agreed to in the lease.
- A viable funding source for financial requirements IS clearly identified in the lease, despite the Mayor’s claim to the contrary: state UEZ funds are called for to avoid using City tax dollars. Had the Mayor allowed an application for this funding to go to Trenton, we would, in all probability, have the money by now.
- The only change to wording in the lease about funding has been proposed by the City’s Business Administrator, NOT FOL.
- The lease specifically delineates between responsibilities of FOL vs. the City; nevertheless, FOL agreed to a further clarification to eliminate the Mayor’s confusion, but the Law Department has yet to write this in as a revision.
- FOL, not the City as the Mayor suggested, provides liability insurance for the Loew’s now, and will continue to do so under the lease.
- The lease requires FOL to have the Loew’s open far more often than just the 12 days Mayor Smith asserted – that number comes from an agreement the City has with the State, not from the lease.
- And as to the Mayor’s claim that FOL has been unresponsive or uncooperative with the City’s Law Department, quite the opposite is true. In over three months, the Law Department has NEVER replied to our attorney’s request for a written outline of its concerns or citations of statutes and case law that justify its claims. And as for myself, far from being uncooperative, I have attended four meetings with the Law Department since June. At one, I was told the Law Department couldn’t figure out which of several draft leases in its file it was supposed to review. On another occasion, I was told that UEZ funds could not be given to FOL as a matter of law; when this proved untrue, the explanation shifted to an admission that the Department simply didn’t like the idea. At every meeting, just when it seemed we were near closure, the Law Department either discovered one more concern, or returned to an issue I thought had been settled.
No less remarkable for its inaccuracy than the Mayor’s ad was a recent conversation I had with his Chief of Staff, who belittled what FOL has accomplished at the Loew’s by saying we hadn’t raised any money in ten years. This is factually not so; FOL raises enough money to fund all of our programs and pay for all supplies used by our volunteers to repair and maintain the Loew’s; the City has never seen a bill for any of this. But even more importantly, the Chief of Staff’s comment betrayed an utter lack of understanding of a key reason why the lease was written: to finally give FOL permanence and real authority over the Loew’s. Without this, it has been and will continue to be impossible for FOL to raise large sums from foundations and other sources of grants and donations. Can Mayor Smith really have forgotten that this was one reason he appointed the committee to write the lease?
During all of this, Mayor Smith admonished me to “trust him” and, frankly, I did. Then, on Tuesday, September 28, as we prepared to mark the 75th Anniversary of the Loew’s that evening, I was summoned to a press conference in which the Mayor announced, without any warning to me, that he was unilaterally scrapping the lease he helped put in place and was giving the Loew’s to the J.C. Redevelopment Agency, which supposedly would later pass control of the Theatre on to FOL. But when I pressed him, the Mayor admitted he could not guarantee when and under what circumstances JCRA would put FOL in charge of the Loew’s. And the Mayor absolutely refused to let FOL review the ordinance that he would present to the City Council to authorize the transfer of the Loew’s to JCRA.
In his ad, Mayor Smith tried to rationalize why his proposal would be good for the Loew’s and for FOL. But there is nothing in the inaccuracies and misrepresentations of his ad, in his Chief of Staff’s belittling but ignorant comments, or in the high-handed way Mayor Smith has tried to force his proposal on FOL that gives me any reason to believe this. On the contrary, there are far too many unknowns about his proposal, along with some all-too-well known negatives. Most alarmingly, the mayor claimed that JCRA would “depoliticize” the Loew’s. FOL. Of course, has never politicized the Loew’s, but JCRA has traditionally been a very political entity. In the past two years, especially, JCRA has been wracked by the political infighting that raged throughout the City. And years ago, political influence led JCRA to call for the Loew’s to be torn down.
What I do know is that the lease that Mayor Smith and the City Council approved three times is the only certain means to ensure FOL’s control of the Loew’s and therefore allow us to begin fundraising and long-range planning right now. And this, in turn, is the only way to truly guarantee the Theatre’s well-being. The lease was written to ensure stability for FOL and the Loew’s. Mayor Smith’s proposal raises the real possibility of much more uncertainty, even chaos that could well lead to the Theatre being completely shuttered and the disillusion of FOL. T
he lease that the City Council passed must be signed. Once this is done, FOL pledges that it will calmly, rationally and intelligently review with the current chairman and staff of JCRA what ways that FOL and JCRA mutually believe that JCRA can practically assist FOL and speed the Loew’s restoration.
Based on all the times that Mayor Smith implored me to trust him, he must now trust me and all of FOL when we assure him that the lease must be signed now, and that we will be happy to work with JCRA if we mutually determine that this makes sense for the Loew’s. I would ask all of FOL’s supporters to email expressions of their support to info@loewsjersey.org, if they have not recently done so, and to attend, if at all possible, the meeting of the City Council this Wednesday, September 13, starting at 6:30PM and extending into the evening. It is at this meeting that Mayor Smith has indicated his intention to push through his give-away of the Loew’s. We need a show of support to stop this. (The City Council meets on the second floor of Jersey City’s City Hall, at 280 Grove Street.) The future of the Loew’s hangs in the balance.
October 11, 2004
So I'm working on another new Jersey City magazine. I'm not usually an optimistic person, but I have reason to believe that this one will be more successful than the last one was. It's going to be monthly, it's going to be in depth, and it'll be full-color, too. We're preparing to launch in January 2005 -- a brand new voice for a new year. I'm tempted to go ahead and direct you to the website we're putting together, but it's not quite ready; in another week or so, I'll post the link and you can go check it out. This time around, I didn't name it. But I think it will have plenty of my irascible personality anyway.
If you're interested in writing for this publication, drop me a line. We're looking for writers on all kinds of Jersey City subjects -- art, culture, fashion, rock and roll, you name it. Pitch me something -- I'm listening.
On L. Harvey Smith
A few weeks ago, I was very close to endorsing L. Harvey Smith for Mayor of Jersey City. I had a post more or less written in my head: The Case for Harvey Smith, or In Defense of Harvey Smith, something like that. I was going to say that in a field with no real powerhouse candidate -- and a general election coming up in May -- it would be wrong to turn over the reins of municipal government to an unknown quantity so soon after Smith had taken office. I felt we should give the Acting Mayor some time to make good on both his promises, and on the lofty and strenuous words he spoke at City Council meetings and on the steps of City Hall on behalf of our public culture.
Harvey Smith had been dealt a bad hand. He had to succeed a popular mayor -- one who represented the political aspirations of the City's most-maligned ward -- over the strident objections of Cunningham supporters. The rush to put a halo over the head of the late Mayor Cunningham has made Smith look like an interloper or usurper by contrast: an accidental mayor, a temporary and hastily-improvised patch over a bleeding wound. Smith has been called a stooge of the HCDO, a nepotist, an Uncle Tom. Throughout, he's had the shadow of defeat in the November elections looming over everything he's done, undercutting his authority. If he has seemed perpetually embattled, bruised, diminished by infighting, that's no accident: with no public mandate, he hasn't been able to act the part of the political strongman.
But Smith has had advantages that the other candidates haven't had. We can appraise their supporters and imagine hypotheticals, but we don't really know what a Mayor Manzo or Mayor Flood would be like. On the other hand, we have had a good three months to examine Mayor Smith in action. That might not be enough time to get a full EKG reading on his leadership, but it's more than just a municipal heartbeat. It's fair to judge Smith on his record, especially since he's the only candidate who has one. For better and for worse, he is the incumbent, and the November elections are a referendum on Mr. Smith's Jersey City, and Mr. Smith's leadership.
With incumbency come benefits. For the past three months, Harvey Smith has gotten to put his name and his face on every event, opening, and happening held in Jersey City. If there was a dog show, it became the L. Harvey Smith dog show, if there was a karaoke contest, he came down to it and blessed it with his name and the authority of his position. That's his prerogative as chief executive, and if you thought (as many residents did) that it demeaned the office of the mayor to have L. Harvey Smith's banner and seal plastered behind renditions of "I Will Survive", remember that he had mere weeks to introduce himself to the people of Jersey City before he went to the general public to ask for a removal of the word "Acting" from his job description. An incumbent facing an election is only as powerful as his poll numbers and name recognition show him to be. Nobody is going to listen to a sitting mayor if they've got a pretty good inkling that he's about to be shown the door by the electorate.
So if there's been a certain desperation to Smith as he's chased events around town, pledging his commitment wherever he can, it is perhaps understandable. Without a wide base of support, and a sense of gathering momentum, the Smith administration would have been stillborn: something to ride out until November. In order to make the most of his three months, L. Harvey Smith had to behave like a man with a good chance to get his hands on, at the very least, another six.
But for those of us on the other end of his pledges -- supporters of 111 First Street, for instance, or the Friends of the Loew's -- Smith's electioneering often raised expectations to unrealistic levels. When Mayor Smith ran to the Old Gold Smokestack and assured the tenants at the Arts Center that there was no way he'd allow Lloyd Goldman to take the structure down, he was clearly blowing smoke. I don't mean to suggest that there has been anything disingenuous about the Acting Mayor's support of the Arts District; Smith's heart may have well been in the right place that day. But he allowed himself to be overzealous, excitable, crowd-pleasing -- and that excitability led him to make a pledge that he had no business making.
It also made him look ineffectual. For years, the Cunningham administration proceeded cautiously on the Warehouse District issue, taking pains neither to inflame the landlord nor to satisfy the many demands of the creative community there. Many of us involved in the arts in Hudson County wanted Mr. Cunningham to move faster and to take a firmer stand against Lloyd Goldman. But Cunningham wasn't gung-ho about landmarking, and in retrospect, I have to believe his strategy was wiser than that Mr. Smith's, who strapped on the gloves in plain sight and attempted to punch above his weight. Smith made many of us happy when he declared war on New Gold -- he got our Irish up, he appealed to our belligerence, he got us marching and banging drums. Then he got knocked flat on his ass, and suddenly it wasn't so much fun anymore. 110 came down, artists were pushed out of 111 First Street, BLDG was allowed to vandalize the halls of the Arts Center and to treat its tenants cruelly. And when Mr. Goldman hired himself a little private army to harass visitors and attempt to ruin the Studio Tour, a cowed Harvey Smith -- who had pledged himself a relentless supporter of our community -- was nowhere to be found.
Mayor Smith got the landmarking he wanted this week. It remains to be seen whether that translates into better conditions for artists or a developed warehouse district consisting of something other than untouchable and uninhabited old buildings. Nonetheless, this was a much-needed win for Smith. But it was a win he should have had a month ago -- at a City Council meeting in early September when he foolishly tabled the landmarking in an eleventh-hour effort to compromise with Lloyd Goldman. That night, Smith allowed himself to be hoodwinked by Goldman's team. To use a metaphor that Smith, an old basketball star, should understand, Mr. Cavanaugh and New Gold were attempting to stall by dribbling out the clock. That couldn't have been too difficult to deduce: hundreds of people in a packed City Council chamber knew exactly what was going on. Our mayor did not. He got maneuvered into a bad-faith negotiation, and one that wasted an entire month.
In the gloom following the decision to table the landmarking, many supporters of the Powerhouse surmised that Smith was on the take -- that he'd been paid off by Goldman to kill the district. But subsequent events proved that the Acting Mayor was not on the take -- he went into his dinner meeting with Lloyd Goldman actually expecting to reach a reasoned compromise. He wasn't corrupted, he was unprepared. If Smith had spent the time educating himself about Mr. Goldman's prior acts, there's no way he would have taken Mr. Cavanaugh's bait. He would have been able to avoid this pitfall, and he would have looked like a hero in the process. But because he was unprepared, he was played like a chump. A corrupt politician is often shrewd enough to work angles for the benefit of his city. A politician who is behind the curve -- one relying on yesterday's news -- is no good to anybody.
As Acting Mayor, Mr. Smith has combined unpreparedness with a scary willingness to shut down discourse. At two City Council meetings, he's taken items off the agenda, and refused to hear already-scheduled public speakers. His attempts to explain his own stances are often gruff, impatient, and incoherent. Nobody is really sure why he has decided to reverse his previously-held position on the lease of the Loew's Theatre. The Friends of the Loew's -- another group to whom Smith has pledged support many times -- deserves an explanation and apology. It is very possible that Smith's plan for the Loew's is one that will make everybody in town happy. It's also possible that he's going to hand the theatre over to a campaign contributor. We cannot know, because the Acting Mayor isn't telling. He needs to clarify his positions, and understand that a major policy reversal requires an accompanying detailed explanation.
Unfortunately, Harvey Smith's public utterances are reliably uninspiring. His speeches are loaded with management-speak and vague, euphemistic language -- he is constantly "moving forward" and using the catch-all "situation" to stand in for any controversy -- and in public meetings he has shown himself short-tempered and intolerant of disagreement. Mr. Smith is a poor communicator. Behind the microphone, he often seems uncomfortable, irritable, expeditious to a fault. After watching him in public settings for three months, I now believe Mr. Smith is one of those people who has become accustomed to using body language in lieu of actual discourse. He is a very large man, and he has sometimes used his imposing physical stature to intimidate people who challenge him. That is a good strategy on the basketball court, but it isn't one you ever want to see in City Hall. It's not the face of Jersey City that I want to show to the rest of the nation.
It is tempting to think that if given the authority that comes from a popular mandate, L. Harvey Smith would be able to stand behind his public utterances and make good on the many pledges he has made during this campaign. Tempting, yes, but also foolish. A popular mandate is not going to make Smith better prepared, or quicker on his feet, or more willing to entertain dissent gracefully. It's not going to prevent him from falling into the sort of snares that Lloyd Goldman set for him on September 8, or for picking battles that he's not willing to see through to their conclusions. It won't make him a better or clearer speaker, or a calmer hand on the tiller. After three months of rudderless governance, I've seen enough. L. Harvey Smith is over his head as mayor of Jersey City, and should not be elected on November 2.
October 7, 2004
I've been meaning to write this piece for a long time. It's kinda difficult by TMR standards, but what the hell: it's something I have been meaning to say. I've done it in the form of a Lyrics Check, and it looks at New Jersey's fragmented political landscape through the lens of Bruce Springsteen's "No Surrender".
October 6, 2004
It's nice that the City Council came together and passed the historic designation of the warehouse district by a 9-0 vote (even Mr. Gaughan sided with the downtown coalition this time). It makes me feel like we were able to carry the momentum of the weekend into City Hall, and impress the urgency of the 111 First Street on our elected officials. For once, we spoke, and the municipal government listened.
But landmarking has never been the real issue here. Landmarking has always been a means to an end: staying Goldman's hand, and keeping our buildings intact. Historic preservation will be a huge obstacle to the unwanted transformation of the warehouse district into an extension of the edge city on the waterfront. But like all obstacles, it can be surmounted with persistence and resources -- both of which Lloyd Goldman has in reserve. He's going to challenge this landmarking in court, and he's going to try to clear the building of tenants however he can. He'll proceed behind the shield of public safety -- he'll say that 111 First Street is crumbling, and for the sake of municipal welfare, he needs to evict everybody and start knocking down walls.
So yesterday's decision isn't the end of anything. It's best understood as a beginning of a new round: we got up from the mat, went back to our corner, got better gloves, and have returned to the center of the ring with fresh determination.
Thanks to the City Council, we got our hands on a tool. Like all tools, it doesn't get a job done by itself. We now have to use that tool -- and how we use it will determine whether or not we're able to impede Lloyd Goldman's plans.
October 5, 2004
I'm skipping tomorrow night's City Council meeting. They're entertaining and occasionally informative, but I've come to see them as a bit of a time-waster. Waiting in a hot, uncomfortable chamber for close to an hour until Mayor Smith takes the microphone to tell us that our issue is off the agenda -- as has now happened twice in the past three months -- is no way to spend a beautiful early fall evening. Before I get gung-ho about a public meeting again, the Council is going to have to show me that attendance creates some practical consequences.
It's not about filling the chamber, either. We filled the chamber to oppose the Tsereteli monument, and then we filled it again last month. Both times, Mayor Smith removed our item and encouraged us to leave. Evidently, SRO houses aren't going to change his mind once it's made up. Beyond that, I don't get the sense that this administration or these local politicians are either listening or comprehending. It doesn't seem to me like they're working hard to communicate their vision for Jersey City to us. I don't get the sense that they care to do more than hold rallies and ship out frightening mass mailings about our allegedly unsafe streets.
If you haven't done it yet, take a look at the websites dedicated to the campaigns of the major candidates. Here's the site for the Acting Mayor, here's Louis Manzo's, here is Steve Lipski's, and here's Jerramiah Healy's. They're all pathetic. They're shallow, vague, often out-of-date, and look like they were designed by a template-happy seventh-grader in an afterschool HTML class. Yes, yes, I know I'm the last one who ought to complain, but still -- I'm not running for chief executive, and I don't have a staff backing me up. Consider: Smith's site features testimonials from people who are running against him, and an advert for a campaign event that happened last week. Lipski's "six-point reform agenda" opens in pop-up boxes, each bearing a vague sentence or two ("we need accountability and I will insure that it occurs") and the same creepy, grinning photo of the candidate. Healy's website has not been meaningfully updated in weeks. Assemblyman Manzo's site is the worst -- rife with broken links and ugly, grainy photos. Click on "why I'm running for mayor", and you'll get "the page cannot be found". Well, perhaps that's as honest a self-assessment as these candidates can muster.
These horrible, uninformative websites feel designed to turn off voters. Guys, if you can't take five minutes a day (or delegate the job to a staffer) to keep your website fresh, what makes you think you can manage the biggest city in New Jersey? This is not an easy job. It's not a job for a flack, or someone who goes through the motions. Jersey City has been floating rudderless since the death of Glenn Cunningham. I am going to vote for the person who best illustrates that he or she has the strength of character to fill that power vacuum, and who is willing to be genuinely responsive to the citizenry. I don't see that candidate yet. Perhaps that candidate is waiting for May.
Everything that happened this weekend -- from the Perils-of-Pauline missed chances of Saturday to the court-ordered reopening of 111 First Street on Sunday -- can be traced back to New Gold's attempt to close the Arts Center during the Studio Tour. All else was secondary, reactive. The story this weekend was the landlord's attempts to harass tenants and visitors, and an outraged public's refusal to comply with his demands. For once, the local papers got it right -- down to Goldman's outrageous employment of a private security force to order around the building's tenants, visiting musicians, and grandma and grandpa who came down to see the artwork.
We'd seen BLDG and New Gold operatives act cruelly before. But I don't think any of us were prepared for the defacing of the 111 corridors by management -- the inarticulate spraypainting, the ugly plywood, the rubbishing of years' worth of work. It took us off balance; it changed the game and forced us to play catch-up. There are thousands of ways that a billionaire landowner can screw with a bunch of broke artists, and no matter how resourceful we are, it's impossible for us to anticipate Lloyd Goldman's moves with unerring accuracy. L. Harvey Smith's guidance and support would have helped. But the Acting Mayor, who pledged his commitment to the arts so ostentatiously on the steps of City Hall, cut town at the moment of greatest crisis.
In the wake of Smith's flight from Jersey City, the Powerhouse District and Studio Tour were essentially lawless -- or, more accurately, Lloyd Goldman's will became the whole of the law. Make no mistake: there was no legal justification whatsoever for barring entry to 111 First Street. If the Arts Center is a commercial building, as New Gold insists that it is, it's completely unethical for the landlord to prohibit tenants from doing business on the most important day of their calendar year. There is no reason why potential customers should be forced to show identification to enter a place of business. This is in complete violation of any landlord-tenant contract, written or unwritten. We don't live in communist China for a reason. If we want to buy a painting, it's not necessary that our papers be in order.
But until Sunday, there was nobody willing to challenge the private army assembled by New Gold -- nobody but the people of Jersey City, I mean, many of whom showed up on Saturday and waited in the drizzling rain for hours to gain access to the Arts Center. On Sunday, we had a better idea of what we were up against, and what needed to be done. The sun came out, the crowd chanted, and Bret Schundler and Junior Maldonado paid us a visit and lent their support to the cause. Paul Sullivan stood on the steps of 111 First Street with his cellphone open and the emergency judge on the line, and we pried the front door open to the public. That was our moment of glory -- our small victory over forces that have seemed to win fight after fight, in spite of all logic and all fairness.
But I don't want to forget that we were also the heroes of Friday and Saturday -- days where we took shot after shot, and suffered indignity after indignity. When we saw the Arts Center in management-sponsored disarray, when we watched the doors to the Mothership locked and policed like there was plutonium inside, when we saw the scaffolding up around the first floor, when the rain fell and the untended Studio Tour schedules blew in the wind all over the street, I can admit that we hit the canvas. We could easily have stayed down. But we didn't; as we have so many times, we got back up again. We put the pieces together, we rallied, and we moved the crowd. To echo my man Jeff Baker, we got the generator, and we rocked, because that's what we do.
October 3, 2004
Well, that was quite an adventure. I can't say I'm exactly unhappy it's over, but this was definitely one of the more memorable three-day stretches I've ever had. I learned a hell of a lot -- most of it about the continued resourcefulness and energy of the arts community at 111 First Street. Those guys never let me down. I'm going to get a little sleep now, and write more about my Studio Tour experience when I wake up tomorrow. To everybody who made the scene today, and who filled the street, chanted, and convinced a judge to pry open the door of the Arts Center to the public: thank you. It's not every day you go to bed knowing you did the right thing. Tonight, our heavy consciences ought to let us off easy. We fought for something worth preserving, and for a little while at least, our voices were heard.
October 2, 2004
This in from our pal France Garrido. It explains the situation pretty well.
UPDATE: News From the Front
October 2, 2004, the first day of the Jersey City Studio Tour. Looming dark clouds shadow and add to the intensity of the day. 111 First Street Artists Studio Building, which is under seige and Attack, opened for the anticipation of the thousands who usually pass through the halls and studios of artists who create and have created their work for many years in this location.
Generally, this is a very exciting event! But I can tell you from first hand experience that entry into this building was like entering into a war zone! Studios of artists who have been FORCED to vacate have been boarded up with thick plywood exhibiting large red Xs sprayed on them. Every indication of life & creativity, every plant & piece of paper, art or otherwise, has been removed from the walls & halls. In its place on the walls, in RED spray paint, are the words POST NO BILLS. NO TRASHPASSING! (their spelling)
To walk through what was at one time a TEEMING with life space has turned into an echo. It reflects the assault and oppression of the situation. Picture this: A long line of devoted public, including school children who have come with their teachers to experience the privilege and profoundness of seeing artists in their studios and speaking with them about their work and process. Inspiring them! The BEST education can offer! And so crucial to their growth and experience of their community.
Picture This: Police surrounding the area. Police at the door. Police beyond the entrance to the building. Security guards stationed at the door and beyond. Picture this: EVERY SINGLE PERSON REQUIRED TO PRESENT IDENTIFICATION IN ORDER TO GAIN ENTRY INTO THE BUILDING.
Picture this: Once you show your ID, they write down your name and require you sign a form. AND by the way those school children, approximately 30 of them, were turned away. REASON: building unsafe.
The city has not declared this an unsafe building. These artists have lived and worked here for many years and now that the owner wants to build condos OR sell it to the city for 30 million dollars, it's unsafe! THIS IS NOTHING SHORT OF AN OUTRAGE! Come out and support and lift the spirits of these artists and show them they are not alone in this struggle! Show up, stand in line, show your ID! IT IS NOT OVER YET!!!
October 1, 2004
1:30 AM Goldman's management team has cleared the halls at 111 First Street, spray-painted "post no bills" on the walls, nailed plywood over the doors to the vacant studios, and announced that they will refuse visitors to the building during the Studio Tour. Pretty nasty. The artists want to rock anyway. I'm okay with it if they are, even if I'm a little leery about bringing bands into what now feels like a combat zone. I come home and send a message to the musicians: no matter what you read in the Jersey Journal tomorrow, the Studio Tour at 111 is on.
8:20 AM Jeff Baker, who is generously running sound for 111 First Street, calls. He points out that there's no way that the Goldman management will allow us to run electric lines out into the street. He doesn't want to set up all his stuff just so we can get shut down by cops and lawyers. Now that the first floor studios have been boarded up, accessing street-level electricity would be a problem anyway. This all seems justifiable. For the first time, I consider canceling the event.
8:45 AM I read the Jersey Journal. Sure enough, there's an article by Bonnie Friedman, announcing that Goldman is closing the building for the Tour. I'm glad it mentions that the artists are taking their work to the street, but I wonder how many people will read this piece and decide not to bother showing up this year.
8:55 AM I call Kathryn Klanderman, president of ProArts. She's been up all night, too. Kathryn suggests that we try to get as independent of the building as we can. She encourages us to get a generator. A generator?!? I've had a hard enough time rounding up P.A. equipment. She acknowledges that this may be difficult, since the City has scheduled other events for this weekend, too. Hmmm.
9:15 AM I call Jeff back. I tell him I'm going to ask the city for a generator. He sounds skeptical. Hey, I would be too if I was in his position. So far, nobody has been able to stop Lloyd Goldman from doing anything he wants to do to his buildings.
9:30 AM I call Joan Moore at the Jersey City Cultural Affairs office, and leave a message explaining the situation.
10:00 AM Joan calls back. I mention that if we're going to be unable to do this, I have to start contacting bands and musicians now. She tells me not to cancel anything. She promises us a generator, although she doesn't know where she's going to get it from.
10:15 AM I call Jeff Baker to tell him that the city is promising us a generator.
10:16 AM While I'm on the phone with Jeff, Paul Sullivan, who is an artist in the building and liaison to the City, calls on the other line. I put Jeff on hold and take Paul's call. Paul wants to forego asking Joan and the City of Jersey City to round up a stray generator, and recommends instead that we just go and get one, and pay for it out of the 111 Tenants Association budget. Oh, dear -- where would we get one, and how much would it cost? I decide to get back to Jeff.
10:20 AM Back on the other line, Jeff affirms that renting a generator will be very expensive. I feel like I don't have the right to intervene here: I can't tell the Tenants Association how to spend their money. Lord knows they have legal fees to pay. I give Paul's number to Jeff, and hope they can come to a decision.
10:30 AM I feel like the City ought to find a way to pay for this. It seems really unfair to make the artists foot the bill for a party that nobody is even going to attend, since the local papers are announcing that it's off.
10:45 AM Rebeca Vallejo is doing a set at Victory Hall tonight for the opening gala. I was supposed to call her yesterday to work out a time for soundcheck, but things got out of hand quickly, and I was never home to do it. I'm feeling like I've neglected her. I call Rebeca, and explain the situation again. She's going to be around Jersey City today, and she'd like to come by and check out the sound system. Cool, I'd love to have her do that -- but that means I need to get it and put it together. The Multi-Purpose Solution guys have been nice enough to lend P.A. speakers and a mixer, but I don't have cables or mics yet. I have to go to Journal Square to pick those up from Pete Prochilo. I tell Rebeca I'll call her back later.
11:00 AM I call Jeff Baker to tell him I'm leaving for Journal Square. He's at the Pep Boys in Bayonne with a copy of the Journal article. He's looking to rent a generator. He can hear the worry in my voice, and he feels the need to reassure me: "We're going to come up with a generator, and we're going to rock, because that's what we do." God, I love those guys.
11:30 AM Leave for Journal Square.
12:00 noon Pete Prochilo meets me at the Jersey Journal building with a bag of cables, some microphones, and a stand. Thanks, Pete. I wish I had told him I didn't need the stand -- this is heavy!
12:15 PM I try to hop a PATH train back to Grove, but they're running slowly. Figures. The mic stand tugs at my hand like an anxious child.
12:30 PM I arrive at Victory Hall. Jim Pustorino, the guy in charge, is there, but he's on the phone. I put all the sound equipment on the stage, and look at it, a little bewildered. I've never set up a P.A. before. Some rock guy I am, right? Victory Hall is only a few doors down from our apartment. I return home to check my messages.
12:45 PM Many, many e-mails from concerned bands, and four messages on my answering machine. The first is from 111 artist Bex Goyette, who wants some stage time for the poets who were supposed to speak inside the building. Yeah, I suppose we can do that -- we'll have downtime between the rock groups. The next is from Paul, who mentions that there's some trouble with the permits we've obtained. Again?! I thought we had this cleared up on Wednesday. I'll have to call City Hall. The third message is from Jeff in Bayonne. He's rented a generator. The final message is from Hilary, and she wants to know if I've lost my marbles yet. Getting there.
1:00 PM Joan e-mails from City Hall. She's gotten a generator, too. Holy crow, we have extra generators now? I'd better call Jeff.
1:10 PM I call Jeff. He has indeed rented a generator of his own. He likes the one he's gotten; we don't need the city's generator. It's 9700 watts. Before he tells me what that means, the battery on his cellphone dies. Okay, I am now officially in a Streets song.
1:12 PM I call Paul and le