A Loose Coalition Of Antibar Activists Seeks To Halt The Assault On The Senses

The Villager’s Lincoln Anderson is on the verge of popularizing a new phrase — “antibar activists”* — in the course of profiling a woman who is raising children next to an East Village bar:

Last month, a few neighbors held a protest rally outside that bar, Boxcar, between 10th and 11th Sts. Their ranks were swelled by antibar activists who don’t live in the neighborhood, including individuals who had coalesced to push for the closing of The Falls, the Soho bar where Imette St. Guillen was last seen in February before her murder, allegedly by a bouncer.

Wearing a nightgown and robe, Liz Glass, who lives around the corner on E. 11th St. and whose first-floor apartment’s backyard abuts Boxcar’s backyard garden, organized the rally. With her were her three young children, ages 2 through 7, whom she says are kept awake by the bar’s noise, the older two of whom toted protest signs.

“We can’t sleep anyway. It’s a pajama protest,” Glass said, with a forlorn expression.

More than a year ago, Boxcar agreed to a curfew for its backyard of 11 p.m. on weeknights and midnight on weekends.

However, shortly after the bar agreed to the backyard curfew, Community Board 3 passed a resolution calling for the State Liquor Authority to close the bar’s backyard entirely. Glass, the bar’s primary critic, is asking the S.L.A. to follow through on the resolution.

Although Glass is the neighbor most affected by the noise, others say they are too.

“I moved to here to be by the beautiful park, and then I got this,” said Eden Fromberg, an OB/GYN doctor who lives on 10th St. whose rear windows face into the block’s interior. “Somehow, with the A/C on and a tape of a babbling brook playing, I can still hear them,” she said of her unsuccessful efforts to block out the bar’s noise at night.

A woman from Huntington House, a shelter for female parolees and their families on the other side of Avenue B, saw the protest and came over to briefly lend support and add her name to their petition.

“Let me sign it!” Haydee Figueroa said, a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth as she grabbed the clipboard. She said she was angry “because of the bullshit in the morning — 2 a.m., 3 a.m. they come out to talk and to fight. This one is worse,” she said, gesturing at Lakeside Lounge a few doors down from Boxcar. “A lot of women can’t sleep,” she said.

Although it’s unclear how much noise is too much noise, one’s threshold seems to lower when you involve a two-year-old:

Boxcar also built a sound-barrier wall between its backyard and Glass’s backyard — Glass called in a complaint to the Department of Buildings as the bar was building it because they didn’t have a permit. Spingola says they didn’t know they needed a permit.

Standing in Glass’s backyard around 10:30 p.m. the night of the protest, a steady mumble of voices could be heard from Gnocco, a restaurant on 10th St. with a backyard dining area. Less audible was the sound from Boxcar’s backyard. Inside Glass’s apartment, with the windows closed, it was hard to hear anything from either place.

“We have no violations — no noise violations, since she started her thing,” said Spingola. “The Department of Environmental Protection was here last Thursday night and we did not get a violation. And D.E.P. doesn’t mess around.”

*The first recorded (or at least Googlable) reference seems to be Anderson’s After ‘Falls murder,’ a flood of concerns about bar safety from March 2006.

What Would Jesus Do? Jesus Would Issue A Press Release And Make Sure Not To Wear A Striped Shirt

The demolition of St. Brigid’s Church on Avenue B in the East Village began yesterday, surprising everyone:

In panicked phone calls and anguished e-mail messages, word spread quickly yesterday morning in the East Village: “They are demolishing St. Brigid’s.”

By 8 a.m., concerned residents, former parishioners and preservationists, many of whom had been working to save the historic church for about five years, began gathering at Avenue B and Eighth Street in Manhattan. They took in the gaping eight-foot-tall hole in the back of the church, a shattered stained-glass window in front, and the scaffolding surrounding the base like a hangman’s noose.

“It floored me,” said Edwin Torres, a former parishioner and member of the Committee to Save St. Brigid’s.

The sound of electric saws and hammers from inside confirmed that what they had been fighting to prevent for so many years had begun, with no warning to them.

The Roman Catholic Archdiocese of New York issued a statement to reporters: “Work began today to take down the former Saint Brigid’s Church, which had become unsafe as a result of the rear wall of the building pulling away from the rest of the structure.”

It is, many would argue, an ignominious end for a church more than 150 years old, one of the oldest houses of worship in Manhattan, built to care for Roman Catholic immigrants fleeing the Irish potato famine.

Work continued despite the best efforts of elected officials who, powerless to stop it, nevertheless delivered grand speeches:

A host of politicians and community leaders, including Councilwoman Rosie Mendez, who was a parishioner of St. Brigid’s; Scott Stringer, the Manhattan borough president; State Senator Martin Connor; and Assemblywoman Sylvia Friedman, delivered impassioned statements yesterday afternoon in front of television cameras in the shade next to the church.

They accused archdiocesan officials of giving in to their greed and the overheated real estate market. They denounced the demolition as the erasing of heritage and history. They asked what Jesus would do.

Joseph Zwilling, a spokesman for the archdiocese, said the decision to demolish the church had nothing to do with money, pointing out that Roman Catholic officials were not planning to sell the property, but instead wanted to convert it to some other use that fits their mission, although that has not yet been decided.

So, as the politicians dispersed yesterday afternoon, the buzz saws continued to buzz.

Throwing Urine Is An Ineffective Way To Protest The Forces Of Gentrification*

This is sort of like drenching the messenger:

Erich Fuchs is a real pisser, according to his landlord — and for that, he’s getting evicted from his prewar Upper West Side building.

The cantankerous tenant’s alleged penchant for tossing urine from his 10th-floor balcony has landed him in Housing Court in a dispute that illustrates tenants’ rising frustrations over a nerve-racking condo conversion under way at 230 Riverside Drive.

Built in the 1930, the elegant doorman building, with sweeping views of the Hudson, has recently gone through substantial renovations — changes that have made possible an $800,000 price tag for a one-bedroom apartment.

The redone lobby, which one resident dissed as “bordelloesque,” now features gleaming white mosaic tile and a new chandelier.

But the dust and noise from the construction has annoyed many of the rent-control tenants who moved there before Manhattan real estate went sky high.

And though tenants have been edgy over the changes, things never got physical until last September, when Fuchs began throwing urine and other things off his balcony onto construction workers, officials claim.

Though cops were called on several occasions, no charges were filed, the building’s lawyer said.

Last month, according to construction workers, Fuchs threw a bucket of urine off his balcony — drenching one of the workers.

“He hates the construction,” one building employee said. “He’s been battling it for a long time.”

The lawyer for the building management claims that by throwing urine at the workers, Fuchs violated his lease and is subject to eviction.

All of which points to the importance of reserving the right to toss urine out the window when signing one’s lease . . .

*For that you need a symbol — like Clinton, for example!

Too Bad Living Out Of Your Car Is Considered Tacky

The price of a parking space in Manhattan is not only the highest in the nation but actually exceeds the cost of renting an apartment in many areas:

A survey of 49 American metropolitan areas found that monthly parking rates in Midtown were the most expensive, averaging $574, with downtown coming in second, at $500. The report, released yesterday by the real-estate firm Colliers International, said the nationwide average is $153, up 4.4 percent from last year.

The single highest rate was $888 at a Midtown garage — and the lowest just $20, in Memphis, Tenn.

Man Transformed From Bitter Ex-Husband To Psychotic, Dead Ex-Husband; “To Bartha” Will Soon Become A Verb* For Such Behavior

The Doctor who blew up 34 East 62nd Street in order to prevent his ex-wife from acquiring the property has died:

Dr. Nicholas Bartha, 66, died at 11 p.m. on Saturday, said Mary Halston, an administrator at NewYork-Presbyterian/Weill Cornell hospital.

Dr. Bartha, whose condition was complicated by obesity — he weighed about 350 pounds — and diabetes, had developed an infection and was breathing with the help of a ventilator.

In addition to Dr. Bartha, 10 firefighters and 5 passers-by were injured in the blast last week. The most seriously injured, Jennifer Panicali, 22, was treated for injuries from flying debris and glass at the same hospital and was released on Saturday.

Dr. Bartha, an internist, was never formally accused of causing the explosion, which investigators said resulted from a tampered gas line, but he was the prime suspect, according to the authorities.

Investigators were never able to interview Dr. Bartha, whom doctors placed in a medically induced coma because of the gravity of his injuries.

As a result of a protracted court fight following a ferocious divorce, Dr. Bartha was ordered to sell the town house, valued at nearly $6.4 million, and share the proceeds with his ex-wife, Cordula Hahn.

Dr. Bartha had vowed never to surrender the building. In an e-mail message to Ms. Hahn sent before the explosion, he wrote: “You always wanted me to sell the house. I always told you, ‘I will leave the house only if I am dead.’ You ridiculed me. You should have taken it seriously.”

He also wrote, “When you read this lines your life will change forever. You deserve it. You will be transformed from gold digger to ash and rubbish digger.”

*”To Bartha”? “Bartha-ed”? “Go Bartha?”