Results tagged “new york” from ARTicles

In a way, things are worse the second day after a disaster than the first. You have to bite the bullet and take an ice-cold shower if you are going to take any shower at all. You have to use up the last of the milk before it goes bad in the unelectrified refrigerator.  You have to contemplate opening one of the unappetizing cans (baked beans? diced tomatoes? sliced peaches?) for your next meal. You have slept too much, since there is nothing to do after dark but get into bed and hope for eleven or twelve hours of oblivion.

Enough of this second-person crap.  You (if there is a you out there, and of that I have my doubts) are probably safe and warm somewhere.  I am safe, and not freezing, but still living in the major black-out area that is lower Manhattan.  Nary a store nor restaurant is open for miles.  If I look out of my window at night, I see only dark windows. (Where are the other candle-users?)  The oddest part is that if I venture uptown, to 42nd Street or above, everything is basically normal, with open stores, crowded restaurants, functioning offices.  But getting there is the trick.  It was hard enough yesterday, when only a few people were out and about.  Today many people are trying to drive to work (or take the free buses, or grab a cab or limo from among those that are cruising the streets), so the streets and buses are jammed.  Most of the five million people who normally take the subway on a given day are all trying to get from here to there by other means.

This morning I shared a limo with a couple on their way uptown to the vet hospital with their little dog, who had a chemotherapy appointment they didn't want to miss.  They too were from the black-out area, and besides all the same problems I had, they didn't have enough water to take a shower. But they were cheerful and kind (they didn't have to share the limo with me, but did it out of generosity, toward me and toward the driver). I hope the dog will be all right. 

All the major cultural venues--Broadway theaters, the Metropolitan Opera, Carnegie Hall, Lincoln Center--continue to be darkened, at least for tonight.  I have no idea when I will next be able to attend, much less report on, a cultural event.  When my iPad is charged up, I am rereading Dombey and Son.  I could be reading Scandinavian mysteries instead (I downloaded two before the hurricane), but Dickens is less agitating under conditions like these.
October 31, 2012 8:15 AM |

This is part of a series on people and organizations that make it possible for artists' work to be made and presented.

Robert Lyons Ohio Theatre.jpg

It was 9:30 at night when Robert Lyons ducked out of rehearsal at the Ohio Theatre, on Wooster Street in New York's Soho, to get some coffee. He's a big guy, 6 feet 4 inches tall, so walking unaccompanied to the deli should not have been a problem. But it was the late 1980s, and Soho then wasn't what Soho has become; for one thing, there were still delis to go to. There was no Barneys Co-Op on the next block, no Trump hotel-condominium sales office just up the cobblestoned street. There wasn't the pervasive sense of safety.

So when he returned a few minutes later with his coffee and saw four guys with broomsticks walking by, his impulse was to close the door to the Ohio and stand in front of it, as if he were protecting the theater. "And they just circled around me, and they wanted my money," Lyons recalled yesterday, sitting at a café table in the theater's lobby as the rain came down outside. "They all kind of hit me at the same time, and then somebody down the street yelled, and then they all ran, so they didn't even get my wallet. But my chin split open, and so blood was pouring down." At 50, he still has the scar.

March 13, 2010 5:51 PM |


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