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From The New York Shitty Inbox, Part II: Homelessness At McCarren Park
Filed under: 11211, 11222, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic, Williamsburg, Williamsburg Brooklyn
This item comes from a person we’ll call “L”. He/she writes:
I live across from the Vincent V. Abate Playground part of McCarren Park, otherwise known as “tent city” for all the homeless people that sleep/pass out in the playground area. Actually saw 1 guy passed out on the kiddie bridge and another pissing down the slide….awesome! Well, I decided to call some type of williamsburg/greenpoint public official so I found the email address to Assemblyman Lentol’s office (the guy who swam the canal for google internet) and voiced my utter disgust of the upkeep of McCarren Park. I emailed them a bunch of links of sites (your included) that showed how bad it really is and they got back to me with this….
“I’ve been told that the Parks Department has added 3 more workers to McCarren Park this week. Two more workers have been added for the summer to work weekend/late nights to supplement the efforts of the Parks Department. An interagency task force has been organized to address the homeless issue. A Parks Enforcement Patrol Officer is going to be hired for the district as well.”
Now I have no idea if the Parks Dept. is just blowing smoke or what but I’m hopeful..
This brings up a something I have been noticing a lot of late: a very visible increase of homelessness in our parks— and north Brooklyn in general. I have observed encampments at McCarren Park, Transmitter Park, India Street and the American Playground to name a few. I am not the only one either: I learned this when I spoke with a Department of Sanitation employee yesterday afternoon.
After I pointed out to him that someone has been living in the above car for at least two months (he said three) and he pointed out a new homeless encampment under a parked tractor trailer I asked him the $64,000 question:
Is it just me or is there a much more visible— and sizable— homeless population here than in recent years?
His answer was “yes” and he went on to tell me:
1. about how he and his partner accidentally crushed two homeless people to death when they tossed what they thought was a pile of rubbish into the back of his truck. He was truly horrified and traumatized by this.
2. he and his colleagues have been complaining to the city only to have these people taken into observation and later return.
I guess what I am trying to get around to is this: more workers at McCarren might improve the deplorable conditions at this park— but it is not going to address the homeless problem. While “an interagency” task force sounds promising, what strategy do they have to address what has to be (in my opinion) the largest homeless population I have seen here since 2002? I’m talking about addressing the core roots of homelessness, e.g.; unemployment, mental illness and substance abuse to name a few— not merely kicking the can by forcing them to move elsewhere (which seems to be what is going on now). Thoughts/observations anyone?
Miss Heather
UPDATE, July 1, 2010; It would appear L has received a call from New York’s Finest!
Hey missheather. so I just got a phone call from the 94th precinct about a complaint that I made to 311 about the homeless problem in McCarren Park and the officer sounding a little annoyed told me this “well, if they’re asleep in the grass at McCarren Park then I don’t see anything wrong with that, it’s not illegal to be homeless” and I said of course its not illegal but you have to know of the growing homeless problem in the neighborhood, especially in McCarren Park? His answer “I am not aware of this”…..WTF!!! After I told him about the issue of them camping out in the play ground and pissing on the slides and what not then he was more understanding saying “oh, well in the playground that’s a different story, we’ll send someone over there now”. As if their going to still be in the same spots as the morning…..I don’t know about you but I get the feeling that the police are either out of touch or just don’t feel like dealing with it.
New York Shitty Day Ender: Nassau Avenue Crater Fixed!
Remember the crater/portal at the intersection of Newel Street and Nassau Avenue that Jay Lombard brought to my attention January 28, 2010? It took six weeks— but it has been repaired! 
He writes:
This isn’t earth shattering-ly amazing news BUT it was nice to see. Remember that photo I sent a few weeks ago of the large hole in the street on Nassau? Well, it was repaired recently and I like to think that calling 311 helped get it fixed a little faster than not reporting it at all. Won’t know the answer to that, but they did a damn fine job patching it up! Now if only we could stop drivers (and pedestrians) from texting when they should be watching where they’re going then the streets of NYC will be safe for EVERY body.
I even saw a dude texting while riding his bike down manhattan ave – at least he was in the bike lane.
Ha
As it would happen I spent a great deal of my time today communicating with a buddy of mine who is a community liaison for our State Assemblyman: Joe Lentol. First we discussed the lack of proper sanitation on Eagle Street. Then we went over the chicken feet at the American Playground. What does it say about our city when it takes six weeks to fix a pothole and a State Assemblyman feels compelled to raise said city’s awareness of quality of life issues in Greenpoint? The answer is very simple: not much.
Miss Heather
Now At The American Playground: Chicken Feet
The above photographs come courtesy of a(nother) lady named Heather. She writes:
What’s up with American Playground!!! For the past two days they’ve been burning what smells like plastic on the next door construction lot (illegal?), today there was chicken parts all over… my son picked up a foot – yuck! and drunk bums that broke a pint bottle and just left the glass! Aaahhhh – is there anyone that I can give complaints to that will actually do something?
Some of you might recall I encountered a live chicken in this park two years ago: Larry Bird. This may seem like an inexplicable occurrence but when one takes into consideration that there is a poultry facility located next door it is not unreasonable to presume this is from which my feathered friend originated. As for the above-depicted item, well, I seriously doubt it simply walked there.
When I strolled down Noble Street this morning the gents at Eastern Poultry were busy hosing out their trucks.
Don’t let their dour, business-like demeanor fool you: my presence was a source of considerable mirth. Or at least that’s what their wolf-calls and whistles would suggest. Amusingly enough when I started filming they got “shy”. No worries, when I stopped they resumed their “merrymaking”.
I have already expounded upon the standard operating procedure for this complaint (and any other, for that matter): call 311, file a complaint, get a complaint number and tender this number along with any and all details to your local community board*. Given that we’re probably dealing with illegal dumping of material that is (or I would consider to be) hazardous I would also forward this information to:
1. The New York City Parks Department (who, I would like to note, had an employee cleaning this space when I walked by this morning).
2. The New York City Department of Sanitation
3. The New York State Department of Environmental Protection
4. Our City Councilman: Steve Levin
5. Our State Assemblyman, Joseph Lentol
If anyone out there has more advice for my friend Heather please tender them via comments. This is not only unacceptable, it is disgusting and a public health hazard. Our community deserves better than this.
Miss Heather
*It should be noted that Community Board 1 (which serves Greenpoint and Williamsburg) is having their monthly meeting TONIGHT.
From The New York Shitty Inbox: Angry About Idling at the American Playground
No folks, my anonymous tipster is not perturbed by idle folk (which can be seen at left and are quite abundant at this public space ). She’s angry about exhaust. Among other things. M writes:
Dear Miss Heather,
We do enjoy your blog. Why only yesterday my 7 year old stepped in a doggie ganola bar on Manhattan Ave. while waiting for the B61 aka the bus that never comes–nailed both mary janes and filled the treads up to boot–so I though of NY Shitty. But enough with quaint anecdotes…
Perhaps you can post some lovely comments about the leaded diesel-spewing vehicles that illegally idle outside our charming playgrounds. And by all means give a special mention to the kind folks over at the Northside Driving School…
Not sure if you have ever noticed, but trucks and buses idle for hours on end at both the Greenpoint Playground (Franklin & Dupont–scenically situated in the shadow of the poop plant) and the American Playground (Franklin & Noble). NYC idling laws only allow 5 minutes of idling–then drivers are supposed to turn off their stinkin’ engines presumably to spare tiny asthma-prone lungs to the long term effects wrought by such toxic fumes wafting over the rusting (rustically urban?) playground equipment. All these diesel-fuled vehicles use leaded gas and we know lead is even worse than Sugar Smacks for growing brains and bodies. Not so good for adults either btw.
A few days ago one of our toddler-toting neighbors (I’m one of ’em too) asked one of the Northside Driving School bus drivers to turn off his engine and he “gave her the finger” and kept the engine going as usual. Yeah right lady. The Northside Driving School buses generally park and idle for hours right next to the baby swingsets–they are nearly always there all morning. Often they leave the doors open and come in and out of the buses as they enjoy their coffee and cigarettes. Why save gas? They’re working for The Man and he pays up at the pump.
The other day at Amercian Playground an FDNY mini-emergency vehicle–without flashing lights and without doing any obvious job–sat idling just beyond the fence between the toddler climbing structure and baby swings for over an hour–the driver was snoozing and surely wanted to keep warm but he clearly was not on a job (which would have been an exception). Food-delivery trucks (ex potato chips and soda for nearby delis) linger near the Amercian Playground as well. I’m not one to spoil a nap of one of NYC’s “fearless” let alone deny the community the nutritious chips and sodas that surely must come on time just like the toys for xmas in “The Little Engine That Could,” but methinks that turning off the engines while naps and chip deliveries take place wouldn’t put too much of a damper on all the fun.
Frankly I see trucks / buses etc idling at both playgrounds a LOT.
I finally made a complaint to 311 regarding these idling problems at both playgrounds. Also wrote CB1 anf NAG. My thought was that having big bold (read obvious) SIGNS (with obvious fines) posted around both playgrounds– would probably help deter this charming local behavior.
Were all this to happen on the UES for example or in tony Brooklyn Heights, well, nary a nanny would ever have to suffer a noxious nostril-full again but here in Greenpoint, considered to be the armpit of Brooklyn as far as the city goes (let it stink/why shave it), nobody pays attention. Perhaps they’ll see your blog though? Thanks for considering either way…
-M
in lovely Greenpoint
Wow. Truth be told I have never noticed this. Of course, it should be noted that I do not have children. Therefore, I have no reason to patronize our local playgrounds— and trust me “reason” is the operative word here. Let’s face facts: both of these parks leave much to be desired. Have any of you, dear readers, had the misfortune of having similar such experiences at our public playgrounds? If so, please share. I’d love to hear them!
Miss Heather
White Birds Can’t Jump
On Saturday, February 2, 2008 I wrote:
I suspect it is safe to speculate that a number of the people reading this post are busy getting ready for this weekend’s Superbowl festivities. While I think it is pretty neat that New York made it this year, I am not big on sports and will probably find some other way to amuse myself.
Well, as luck would have it, I didn’t have to try very hard to find a way to pass my time. Yesterday, while most people were tapping kegs, rolling out the crudites, ripping open bags of potato chips and prepping French onion dip, I was standing watch over a chicken.
Yes, you read me correctly: a chicken.
This chicken — who somehow found her (?) way onto Milton Street.
As with most days when I get hit with a mindfuck a minute, it all started innocently enough: with an argument with Mr. Heather. At noon I arose to find him on the computer, as is his usual habit. I notice a take-out container on the coffee table. I open it: inside is one cubic inch of red velvet cake. Recognizing this confection as being the one we purchased at Kombit the evening before, I asked:
How was the cake?
Mr. Heather: It was terrible. Way too dry.
When I encounter a culinary item I find distasteful I rarely endeavor to eat all but one bite. If I do not like something I will cease eating it. Mr. Heather— for reasons known only to him— is not so easily deterred. I did not ask him why he left only one minuscule chunk of cake, that would have invited a lengthy explanation which I, having just awakened, was probably not prepared for. I go to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee instead.
Thereafter I proceeded to the bedroom to change clothes. Mr. Heather was busy preparing a load of laundry. Under the impression we were going for a walk (this was agreed upon the night before) I ask him what he is doing. He replies:
I am going to do a load of laundry.
Me: I thought we were going for a walk.
Mr. Heather: I thought you could help me do some laundry first.
Me: Um, no.
Mr. Heather: Well, can’t you wait?
Me: No.
I will spare you the gory details of what followed. Suffice it to say it involved a lot of passive-aggressive manipulation on the Mister’s part. Disgusted, I offered a compromise:
Fine, I will go to Williamsburg and cash out a gift certificate. You can meet me there later. I don’t want you going with me anyway. I am not in the mood to hear you curse about hipsters every fucking five feet.
And lo, a deal was made! I put on my coat and headed to Willy B on foot. When I reached Milton Street, this is what I found:
A pack of tweeners and a woman looking at a chicken.
Having never seen a chicken before (save perhaps on their dinner plate) the children took great delight in chasing her. She was not as enthusiastic and elected to hide behind a dumpster.
When one of these gutter snipes shouted “Let’s put it on a raft and dump it in the East River!” I decided it was time for action: I called 311. Before I continue I’d like to say a few things about 311. Having the pleasure of living in Greenpoint, which can best be described as being in a state of (an over) development free for all, I have called them on numerous occasions. The operators, always courteous, vary wildly in regards to their ability to direct me to the proper agency. This time proved to be no exception.
Call #1
Me: Yes, I’d like to report that there is a chicken wandering around on Milton Street between Franklin and West.
Operator: What?
Me: There is a chicken loose on Milton Street in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. A number of young boys are tormenting it. Can you get someone down here to pick it up?
Operator: Is the chicken injured?
Me: I don’t know. It’s walking around but isn’t very happy.
After being put on hold with the Center for Animal Care and Control for over five minutes I got frustrated and hung up.
Call #2
Me: I know this is going to sound really strange, but there is a chicken at large on Milton Street between Franklin and West. A number of preteen boys are chasing it, can the C.A.C.C. please come by and retrieve it?
Operator: Is the chicken injured?
Me: Beats me, I don’t know anything about chickens.
Operator: I am going to forward your request to the local precinct and they’ll follow it up.
As I got off the phone I noticed the woman with me was engaged in a shouting match with the “parent” who was charged with “supervising” these pack of prepubescent p(h)ucks. Larry, in the meantime, had seen fit to enter the basketball court. Knowing that we had him cornered, the woman and I stood watch over him.
Five minutes go by. My fellow Samaritan calls the 94th Precinct directly* and reports Larry Bird. The operator assures her a police car is on the way.
We watch the chicken.
Fifteen minutes come to pass, she calls the 94th Precinct again. After informing the operator that she has been waiting fifteen minutes for the police to show up, she was told she has only been waiting for five minutes.
We (continue to) watch the chicken. Larry Bird— cornered, confused and cute— tries to keep warm.
Twenty minutes later the police arrived and with them came the crowning coup de grace: they were the same officers who detained me last December for taking photographs of Christmas Decorations. I had told the woman standing guard with me about this incident (people tend to engage in discussions when guarding a chicken, it makes the time go by faster when waiting for the 94th to arrive) and of all things, she happened to be a photographer.
Me: Aw shit.
Woman: What?
Me: Those are the cops who detained me. If you don’t mind, I’m getting out of here. I do not want to talk to these people. You can handle it, right?
Woman: Sure, go.
And go I did. FAST.
Wherever you are little Larry Bird, I hope you are safe and sound. Perhaps you’ll find your way to a nice animal sanctuary upstate where you can shoot hoops in peace.
Miss Heather
*Because I know the phone number for the 94th Precinct by rote memorization and gave it to her. Long story.
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