… The contradictions of New York City are its heartbeat .. the memories … unforgetable

my friend from the NYU days said: “but its not that way any more.” Strangely, I was visiting my best friend from Paris in New York , as we talked about being kids she came into conversation … at MOMA … likely hadn’t been mentioned in conversation for more than 40 years. We were teenagers … as I returned to the bus back to Bucks County …. I checked my email via cell and found: ” all those nites walking through the Village into the morning, I was thinking about them… you don’t have to reply if you don’t want to.” Made this photograph on Herald Square that day … near where I bought the Leicas … still have, now with the paint worn off. Its still there … now folks seem to walk past it. Of course I replied. That’s have the first sentence arrived.
In New York City contradictions remain its heartbeat. The following memories from a 17 year old kid who just got part time work lying about his age at Associated Press.


…. as kids we would go to the Italian bakery on Carmine street .. and ask for “broken loaves” … the manager would pick up a fresh one … and break it in half … good Italian guy … the bagel shop on 3rd & Ave A, lady always smiled and said “what can I do for you kid? And I smiled back and we laughed at each other, I broke the bagels .. into pieces with my coffee …”No one eats bagels like that.. “I do! I’m not Jewish, I’m Pa Dutch .” “ Ach (with a wave… ) ya want a shmir?” “Sure, Thanks.” And Mrs Cohen and Mrs. Woo who would see me out on Canal or Orchard street … in a Pea Coat with snow in my hair at 20 degrees… taking notes … then they’d call or motion me into their shops and give me chicken soup with noodles or chicken soup with Ginseng. “you are all wet, what are you doing? Or “ you get sick” followed by the ginseng soup. “I’m taking notes.” Why you take notes?” “What notes? So I won’t forget.” “What you forget??” “All of you.” Like Louie on 47th across from Marty Forcher’s professional camera repair, there was a gentleman … a menche … Yeah, & Louie the peddler … dealer in fine photographic wares with whom I negotiated …Haggled … my first Nikon kit. In Yiddish, Pa Dutch, and New York English. He pushed a handful of Nikon filters across the table … “for chutzpah kid.” “I got that!” we both laughed. And sat for another cup of black coffee. My lady friend from NYU in ’68 … now lives in Fla -of course … said: “Its not like that any more.” I replied: “it was then.” I thought the photographs were important … it was the people.” NYU, New School eh, It was the New Yorkers. The incredible city we shared … all of us from all over. The journalism was just the chance to be around them. Yeah, its different now. No one seems to get it. Its about all of us .. not the stuff. Not just “me”. This was all pretty much before I could vote. S.

And this is Times Square, like the above at Herald Square … both named after newspapers …. when they were rough and tumble reflecting the folk who read them, rather than the University commitment to heirarchy and privledge, and the crap that it treads on. Not Trump’s (and soviet) desinformatsyia term “FAKE NEWS” … but the Macadamic-Financial complex that like Penn sold the Trumps their degrees.

The old New York comment to a bullshiter was “TAKE A WALK!” Also might add: “TAKE A LOOK.” “The change will do ya good.”


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