Time Was . . .

Neighborhood groups on the West Village’s Christopher Street are tired of gay teens from the outside causing trouble. They argue that in this day and age, society basically accepts them, so they should feel free to take it somewhere else — “Gay youth gone wild: Something has got to change”:

What have been the Village’s greatest assets — its acceptance and diversity — have become its greatest liabilities. Villagers have witnessed and tolerated questionable behaviors by disruptive youths on their streets. Over time, questionable behaviors escalated to unacceptable behaviors; unacceptable behaviors spiraled out of control to dangerous behaviors, leaving residents scared and appalled. Our tolerance has been abused and taken for granted; our community has been taken advantage of.

. . .

Meanwhile, these youths continue to frequent the streets 24/7 with an “anything goes” behavior that has escalated to dangerous proportions. The recent incident at Malatesta restaurant on Christopher Street is a good example of what these groups of disruptive youths can and will do. In this case, they started fighting in front of Malatesta restaurant and ended up picking up anything and everything from the outside tables while diners were eating. With the knives and forks and smashed bottles of wine and oil, etc., they picked up from the tables, these youths continued their fight while terrified patrons ran inside, covered in food and wine, and watched in disbelief. How long will such behaviors be ignored by our public officials? These unruly youths must be made accountable for their actions. Neither they nor anyone else should be above the law. Being a minority or gay cannot be used as an excuse for an “anything goes” behavior. This attitude of “let them be” by our public officials is the ultimate prejudice, for life on the street 24/7 is a dead-end life.

Verna Eggleston, New York City commissioner of Human Resources, publicly stated that the Christopher Street Pier is the only place where these youths can feel safe. According to Tim Gay’s article, “Goodbye gay ghetto; We’re everywhere in the city” (The Villager, June 15, 2005), Christopher Street and the West Village are not the only places where gay youth can feel safe. “Unlike the ’70s and ’80s, there doesn’t seem to be a few insular neighborhoods (i.e., the West Village) with a predominately gay influence . . . . If anything, in New York City, gays and lesbians can live in a number of neighborhoods safely and securely.” Staten Island’s L.G.B.T. community recently had its first gay pride parade. “Times,” Gay states “have changed, and we don’t need the ghetto anymore.”

What Lies Beneath . . .

What lies beneath the murky waters of the Hudson River remains unseen by most, unless enterprising divers outfit themselves with a microphone and a camera and broadcast it back to shore:

The Hudson River at night, with the lights of Manhattan reflected and shimmering on its surface, can be a romantic and inspiring sight. What lies beneath the surface is another matter.

On Saturday, about 200 people got a rare nighttime look at life under the Hudson’s surface off Pier 26, in Lower Manhattan, from two divers outfitted with underwater cameras and microphones.

Up on the pier, the audience regularly applauded and gasped at the visions unfolding live before them on two large projection screens.

“We’re taking bets to see if we see any bodies down there,” said Daniel Edelman, 23, a graphic designer from Brooklyn who was drinking beer with a group of friends. “I know it is an old New York river stereotype. But it is certainly possible.”

But alas, gawking landlubbers were perhaps disappointed to learn that there are just a bunch of fish, oysters and crabs down there — just as well, say environmental groups, who seek to further clean up the river.

I Wanna Destroy You

You know rock music is fossilized when the mayor comes to the aid of CBGB:

CBGB – the punk rock mecca facing eviction from its East Village home – picked up an unlikely booster yesterday in the pinstriped form of Mayor Bloomberg.

Hizzoner, while conceding he has never set foot in the famed club, said the city was hoping either to keep CBGB from getting bounced out of 315 Bowery or find it a new home.

“It’s more than just another club,” Bloomberg said of the dank bar that helped launch Blondie, the Ramones and the Talking Heads.

You Can’t Stop Driftwood Art; You Can Only Hope To Contain It

The Times investigates the abstract driftwood formations that have been cropping up along the Hudson River near the Upper West Side:

Among the many mysteries of the universe – Stonehenge, black holes, alien corn mazes – the driftwood sculptures along the Hudson River in Manhattan have to qualify among the most intriguing, at least to the many bikers, joggers, fishermen and picnickers who pass them every day.

Since at least the spring, someone has been gathering branches worn smooth and silvery by the river, and assembling them into abstract designs. Some incorporate delicately balanced stones; some are tied with found rope. Some are small, others 6 to 8 feet tall. They are anchored among the boulders that line the river from about West 115th Street north almost to the Fairway supermarket at 132nd Street.

Most regulars have no doubt this is art. Yet one Friday in early July, Parks Department cleanup crews uprooted every one of the sculptures and tossed them on the sidewalk to be carted away, as if they were trash.

Over the last three weeks, new driftwood sculptures have slowly risen, taking the place of the old ones.

The strangest part is that nobody seems to know the identity of the artist.

Sad to say, but these pieces are in some ways more interesting than a lot of public art in the city.

But lest you call the B2 article “fluff,” know that writer Anemona Hartocollis seems to have gone to some lengths to figure out the artist’s identity:

It seems possible that the artist lives a double life, artist by night and, say, tennis pro by day.

This loosely describes an apparently homeless man who rides his bike every morning from Upper Manhattan to the Trump development at 72nd Street, where he proceeds to hit a few tennis balls, with considerable skill, on the courts under the West Side Highway.

It was afternoon, well after tennis time, and he was perched on a rock at the latitude of 120th Street, staring pensively at the river, at an intimate distance from a driftwood sculpture resembling a scarecrow. Was he the artist, someone asked. The tennis player looked startled for a moment, then shook his head and said, in an East European accent, “Maintain the law.”

The plot thickens . . . and apologies to ESPN’s Dan Patrick for the silly post title.

The Relentless March of Progress

The single-screen Beekman Theatre on the Upper East Side is being bulldozed to make way for progress:

Immortalized in “Annie Hall,” Woody Allen’s 1977 romantic comedy, the 53-year-old upper East Side movie house – one of the last single-screen theaters in the city – closed for good last night.

A throwback to the premultiplex era of neighborhood cinemas, the Beekman, on Second Ave. and 66th St., is being cleared to make way for a breast cancer treatment center.

. . .

“This is an assault on the character of what makes New York wonderful,” said George Reisz, 56, a nearby resident. “Some day, there’ll be nothing left.”

Starbucks, McDonald’s, Home Depot, breast cancer treatment centers . . . where will it end? Sloan-Kettering must be stopped!