The Villager

The Paper of Record for Greenwich Village, East Village, Lower East Side, Soho, Union Square, Chinatown and Noho, Since 1933

July 13, 2017 • $1.00 Volume 87 • Number 28

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PHOTO BY SCOTT R. AXELROD

Webster Hall will be closing next month for a major renovation under its new corporate owners.

Rock ’n’ renovation; Webster Hall is set to close for overhaul

BY SCOTT R. A XELROD

W

ebster Hall, the renowned, longstanding East Village club and concert venue, will close Aug. 9, as the landmarked building will soon be flying the corporate ownership flag of Barclays / AEG / Bowery Presents.

And while the place will be rebranded and its interior renovated — exactly how is still unclear — no specific date for a relaunch has been announced.

Rumors persist that the rehab work will last for roughly the next two years.

Gerard McNamee, Webster Hall’s director of operations,

PHOTO BY BOB KRASNER

Angel Eyedealism — using her hands to play the theremin in her East Village apar tment — is tr ying to hold onto her home.

Astrologer needs miracle to save East Village home

WEBSTER continued on p. 4

BY BOB KR ASNER

A

ngel Eyedealism has lived most of her adult life in the East Village.

Currently, she resides in a typical tenement walk-up: It’s not the most spacious apartment, or the fanciest — less than 500 square feet, with the bathtub in the kitchen and a steam pipe that rises up straight through the middle of the living room.

But she’s made it her home, and

she wants to stay there. Unfortunately, unless she finds a good lawyer this week, she may be forced to pack up and go.

If you can imagine Liberace as a woman astrologer living in the East Village, you will have a hint of Angel Eyedealism. A vivacious character who calls herself the “number one astrologer in New York City” (a Google search backs this up), she combines glitter, cleavage, homemade costumes and a bit

of performance art to liven up a reading, which she concedes can be “very detail laden and get boring fast.”

“I’ve fallen asleep when others are reading my chart,” she said, “so I try to entertain.”

It’s entirely possible that she will jump up in the middle of a session and proclaim, “And now, a theremin concerto!” and then play one. Which is not to ANGEL continued on p. 6

Gay man settles Horatio house dispute .............p. 2 Found ‘dead drunk’ on Christopher St......... ......p. 8 Klan gets slammed in VA......p. 22

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Schwartz recently asked the New York State Department of Health to force Beth Israel to apply SEQRA to its downsizing plan, under which new privately owned residential housing eventually would be built at the former hospital site. He also wrote to Governor Andrew Cuomo and state Attorney General Eric Schneiderman about it.

HORATIO HOUSE DEAL: Village District Leader Arthur Schwartz tells us that Tom Doyle’s case has been settled. Doyle lived for 50 years with his husband, Bill Cornwell, on Horatio St. in a house Cornwell owned all that time. When Cornwell died in 2014, he left the building to Doyle, but the will had issues. Cornwell’s niece and nephews declared they owned the property and promptly put it up for sale. Schwartz, who is an attorney, took on the case, arguing that Doyle and Cornwell had a common-law marriage based on their summer vacations in Pennsylvania. But Cornwell’s relatives claimed in court that Pennsylvania didn’t accept common-law marriage until just before Cornwell’s death.

Schwartz and his legal team, though, found a number of retroactive cases in that state based on common-law marriage. Doyle’s own testimony was also compelling and played a major role in the decision. According to Schwartz, Doyle will now get a good chunk of the profits of the building’s sale, plus will be allowed to live in his apartment for the rest of his life for just $10 a month.

The settlement awaits court approval, likely to come later this summer.

BETH ISRAEL SUIT: Schwartz also plans to file a lawsuit against Mt. Sinai’s closure of Beth Israel Hospital. Basically, Schwartz is charging that Mt. Sinai is using “segmented review” to try to skirt doing a proper assessment under the State Environmental Quality Review Act (SEQRA) — which contains an environmental review — that is required for projects of greater than 240,000 square feet. (SEQRA is also required for facilities sited next to public parkland, such as Stuyvesant Square Park, which is on Beth Israel’s western side.) Instead, Mt. Sinai has been applying for certificates of need as it closes down and transfers various medical units in Beth Israel in preparation for relocating the historic Gramercy hospital to E. 13th St. and Second Ave. In the latest update,

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July 13, 2017

CHILD-PORN CASE: In still more Schwartz-related news, his son Jacob Schwartz’s child-porn case was back in court last week, but the proceedings “lasted only about a minute,” we’re told. Word has it that the case is likely to be drawn out over a fairly long period of time, never go to trial and almost surely result in a settlement. Jacob, 29, has admitted the confiscated laptop computer was his and was always in his possession, so there is no arguing he was not aware the copious cache of illegal photos and videos — more than 3,000 and 89, respectively — were on there.

SHE WORE WU: A Facebook post last week by Susan Brownmiller, the feminist writer icon, about her “hiphop” walk through the Village would surely get a rise out of Raekwon and Ghostface Killah. “Today I wore my WuTang Clan T-shirt on a stroll thru the Village,” Brownmiller wrote. “Never have I gotten more attention! One guy, after asking politely, even snapped my picture. The attention was because folks are surprised that a woman my age has even heard of Wu-Tang.” Word!

PHOTO BY MILO HESS

THEIR GRAND CHAL- Apparently Donald Trump is a hard sell in New York Cit y. Nobody’s LENGE: Trying to knock buying, to the point that he has to be put on sale. At least that’s the away the final vestiges of for- case in a souvenier shop window near the World Trade Center. Maymer Assembly Speaker Shel- be these guys have been reading all the news about Donald Trump, don Silver’s Grand St. political Jr. and his meeting with some shady Russians who were going to machine, a new progressive give him “dir t” on Hillar y Clinton. And of course Junior says he team of district leader candi- never told dad any thing at all about any of it. A s The Donald would dates are taking on the Tru- say, “Believe me.” Yeah, right! If investigators now turn up Russian man Club’s incumbents. Up- “dir t” on The Donald, that price tag may star t to plunge fur ther! starts Caroline Laskow and Lee Berman are running against Karen Blatt and JaLaskow said. “The Truman Club has done nothing cob Goldman on the Lower East Side. Laskow, a to organize Democrats on Grand St. despite the documentary fi lmmaker and author — she co-wrote many challenges facing our neighborhood.” Added “The Soup Club Cookbook” with three neighbors Berman, “Ours is a strong Democratic district. We — has lived in the Seward Park Co-op since 2003 should be joining with other Democrats to engage with her husband and two children, who attend in meaningful action against Donald Trump’s radipublic school. Berman, a lifelong East River Hous- cal policies. The Truman Club didn’t even hang up es resident, has been an active public school parent a Hillary Clinton poster in its window last year. It’s in the district, serves on East River’s board, and time for new, progressive leadership on Grand St.” was recently appointed to Community Board 3. He After this year’s Sept. 12 primary election, Laskow, is also the local male Democratic State Committee Berman and their allies plan to form a new club member. “We want our elected officials to hear our called Grand Street Democrats, in order to, as they community’s concerns about traffic on Grand St., put it, “further reduce the influence of Silver’s Truovercrowded schools and excessive development,” man Club on local politics.”

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PHOTO BY MILO HESS

A guy at Canal and Elizabeth Sts. in Chinatown was playing a cornet while wearing brown socks and no shoes this past Sunday. It wasn’t clear if he had lost his shoes or maybe just taken them off for a little while to let his feet “breathe.” But even though his feet may well have been breathing, they couldn’t play the cornet — or any other horn, for that matter.

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Rock ’n’ renovation; Webster Hall Named best weekly newspaper in New York State in 2001, 2004 and 2005

by New York Press Association News Story, First Place, 2015 Editorial Page, First Place, 2015 Editorials, First Place, 2014 News Story, First Place, 2014 Overall Design Excellence, First Place, 2013 Best Column, First Place, 2012 Photographic Excellence, First Place, 2011 Spot News Coverage, First Place, 2010 Coverage of Environment, First Place, 2009

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PHOTOS BY SCOTT R. AXELROD

Webster Hall, on E. 11th St. bet ween Third and Four th Aves., has been a major event space since the 1800s.

The Villager (USPS 578930) ISSN 0042-6202 Copyright © 2017 by the NYC Community Media LLC is published weekly by NYC Community Media LLC, One Metrotech North, 10th floor Brooklyn, NY 11201. 52 times a year. Business and Editorial Offices: One Metrotech North, 10th floor Brooklyn, NY 11201. Accounting and Circulation Offices: NYC Community Media LLC, One Metrotech North, 10th floor Brooklyn, NY 11201. Call 718-260-2500 to subscribe. Periodicals postage prices is paid at New York, N.Y. Postmaster: Send address changes to The Villager, One Metrotech North, 10th floor, Brooklyn, NY 11201 Annual subscription by mail in Manhattan and Brooklyn $29 ($35 elsewhere). Single copy price at office and newsstands is $1.

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July 13, 2017

WEBSTER continued from p. 1

took to Facebook to urge regulars — and everyone else — to come out for one last intothe-wee-hours club night on Sat., Aug. 5.

“Sad but true, the legendary and worldfamous Webster Hall has been sold and will close as we know it for its final club night,” McNamee said. “I highly recommend that you all stop by before the end of this era to pay your respects to [club owners] the Ballingers and the building for providing us with a lifetimes worth of memories. There are only 12 club nights left. Please come celebrate our rich 25-year history of being the biggest, baddest and longest-running nightclub in the history of New York City.”

The building was constructed in 1886 and an addition in similar style was tacked on in 1892. One of New York’s most significant theater and event venues, it has hosted entertainment and social events since its

earliest days, and operated as a club through Prohibition. It was during the 1980s that the venue, rechristened The Ritz, served to introduce or reintroduce rock fans to the likes of Aerosmith, Prince, Public Image Ltd, Iggy Pop, Depeche Mode, Guns N’ Roses, U2, Run-DMC, Ozzy Osbourne, The English Beat, The Dictators, Parliament-Funkadelic, UB40, Bo Diddley, Danzig, Kiss and even Tina Turner.

Renamed once again as Webster Hall in 1992, bands like Metallica, Green Day and Nine Inch Nails took to performing there in what could be called a considerably more intimate setting than their typical stadium shows. In fact, Nine Inch Nails, who had already performed a highly touted Webster Hall set in 1994, returned in 2009 to perform the entirety of their “The Downward Spiral” album. In 2014, grunge heroes Soundgarden, led by recently deceased frontman Chris Cornell, did the same to celebrate the 20th anniversary of their al-

bum “Superunknown” — for a mere $20 a ticket.

While it’s still a mystery as to what the venue will look and sound like in the future, current Webster Hall stagehands Ian Hamilton and Andrew Bilder, along with collaborator Mariana Trevino, have launched a Kickstarter campaign in the hopes of raising funds to produce a documentary to tell the tale of the storied venue through those who showed up, lined up, danced and moshed many a night away at Webster Hall.

“Everyone is just shocked that it’s closing,” Hamilton said. “People who show up week after week feel as if their lives are now up in the air.”

One regular, upon hearing the news, told the trio that she simply won’t be going out anymore. While one could presume she meant she’d be hanging up her clubbing clothes, as opposed to becoming a hermit, it is said that everyone handles traumatic loss differently.

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is set to close for overhaul under new owners

From left, Mariana Trevino, Andrew Bilder and Ian Hamilton, star ted a Kickstar ter campaign together to raise money to produce a documentar y about the histor y of Webster Hall.

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July 13, 2017

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Astrologer needs miracle to keep apartment ANGEL continued from p. 1

say that she isn’t serious about her work — about two hours of research will go into a reading prior to her meeting with a client.

She hasn’t always been an astrologer and you may not be surprised to learn that her current moniker is not the name she was born with (but no, she’s not sharing that info).

Back in 1983, former high school valedictorian Angel came to New York City from a small town Upstate not just to live here, but to live — literally. Having been the victim of apparent medical malpractice — she was given massive doses of estrogen to “cure” her PMS — she needed to find doctors who could undo the damage that threatened her life.

“The estrogen ravaged my thyroid and adrenal glands”, she explained. Luckily, she found help, but was left with a disability that still affects her life today.

Back then she was calling herself Angela Repellant. While supporting herself with a variety of odd jobs —artist model, cigarette girl at the Palladium, scenic designer, milliner, waitress at Life Cafe — she supplemented her medical healing with “performance art and color therapy,” as she put it.

She became part of the Rivington School, a Lower East Side / East Village art movement that, among other things, created large sculptures from junk materials in various community gardens.

She contributed an essay about that era in a recently published book, “Rivington School: 80s New York Underground,” edited by Istvan Kantor.

She changed her name and moved on from performances that involved screaming and pulling out and throwing tampons at the audience. (Don’t ask where she pulled them from.) She put her five-octave range to use in a series of bands with original material and names, such as Womb Service and The Horny Spawn. Having toured Europe, she laughingly refers to herself as “internationally obscure” as a performer.

A brief residence in Brooklyn left her further damaged — a crackhead broke into her apartment and “brutally assaulted” her, she said, leaving her with neck and back injuries.

She subsequently moved into her current abode, which is a co-op. After paying the rent on time for two years, she was offered the option to buy. A mortgage was approved, paperwork was handed in but — to her shock — she was turned down. An e-mail from the co-op board’s lawyer mentions that Angel “states she gets SSI” — disability payments — and claims that she has not provided documentation of her income.

Eyedealism denies this.

Adding to the possible civil-liberty issues involved in turning down an applicant with a disability issue, it appears

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July 13, 2017

PHOTOS BY BOB KRASNER

Angel Eyedealism in her home in the East Village.

that the co-op board did not even actually exist, having been dissolved in 2009.

While dealing with the recent death of her mother, followed by a heart attack, Eyedealism is still struggling to hold onto her apartment.

Meanwhile, the stars are aligning for her career: Big-name corporations and clients are starting to call, including George Lopez, who filmed her reading of him for his upcoming reality show “Very Superstitious.” But what she really needs — immediately — is a lawyer who deals with both tenant law and disability issues.

“I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me,” she said. “I want to lead with a sparkling and colorful example. And I want my chance to buy my home.”

Angel Eyedealism can be reached at 347-725-7499 or by e-mail at angeleyedealism@gmail.com . Her Web site is http://www.angeleyeastrology. com/ .

Rock on! Angel Eyedealism formerly played in bands that toured Europe.

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July 13, 2017

7

Mon., July 3, at 8:50 p.m. An employee at the Meatpacking District hot spot told cops about the alleged incident, which caused about $3,500 worth of damage.

Richard O. Sodeke, 24, was arrested for felony criminal mischief.

MacD mug shot A man was punched in the face at MacDougal and W. Fourth Sts. after a verbal dispute with another man on Sun., July 9, at 1:30 p.m., according to police. The victim, age 59, said he and his rival were arguing while standing on the corner, when his opponent socked him. He suffered redness and swelling to the left side of his face, as well as lacerations to the back of his head. Sheldon Edmond, 35, was arrested for misdemeanor assault.

No joyride

PHOTO BY CLAYTON PATTERSON

Heavily armed police entered the Redford Hotel in search of the El Luchador robber y suspect on Saturday.

POLICE BLOTTER Luchador robbery Around 2 p.m. on Sat., July 8, a robber held up a worker at the El Luchador cafe, at 132 Ludlow St., then fled into the nearby Redford Hotel, where, according to local news blog Bowery Boogie, he barricaded himself inside. Later in the day, around 7 p.m., a group of heavily armed police entered the hotel while police blocked off Ludlow St. to traffic.

“People on the street said a worker at the Mexican food takeout El Luchador was robbed at gunpoint and beaten up,” said Clayton Patterson, the Lower East Side documentarian. “Cops left at 8:10 p.m. and the street opened up. Some cops remained at the Redford, but I never saw an arrest.”

may have died from falling and striking his head. Reports are the victim had an odor of alcohol about him, he said.

“He was drinking heavily on Christopher St.,” Alberici said. “They’re looking at video. But he wasn’t robbed or anything. There’s no indication of anything else right now.”

River on Tues., July 4, at 8:23 a.m.

Responding to a 911 call, officers found the body in the water near E. Sixth St. and the F.D.R. Drive.

The city’s Medical Examiner is determining the cause of death and the police investigation is ongoing. Police are not releasing the man’s name pending notification of family members.

Cops are seeking the public’s assistance in identifying the man in the sketch. They say he was wearing gray sneakers, blue jeans and a black Casio G-Shock watch.

Anyone with information is asked to call the Police Department’s Crime Stoppers Hotline, at 800-577-TIPS, or for Spanish, 1-888-57-PISTA (74782). Tips can also be submitted by logging onto the Crime Stoppers Web site, www.nypdcrimestoppers.com, or by texting them to 274637 (CRIMES) and then entering TIP577. All tips are confidential.

A woman’s boyfriend forced her into her car on Sun., July 9, at 10:15 a.m., then drove her into the city, police said.

The victim, 36, said the suspect threatened to punch her if she didn’t get into the vehicle. After driving into the city, he parked at the corner of Greenwich and Jane Sts. The suspect reportedly also told her to stay in the car or he would harm her. Jorge A. Fierro, 38, was arrested for misdemeanor unlawful imprisonment.

Better ‘watch’ it A man realized his watch and ATM / debit cards were missing after a night out with friends, according to police.

The victim, 29, told cops that on Jan., 20, at 4 a.m., he was in his apartment at 63 E. Ninth St. with two friends and two strangers after returning from a bar. He realized that his watch, worth $8,000, and his debit card were both missing. He discovered there were multiple unauthorized transactions and withdrawals made on his card totaling $14,576.

Jonathan Harris, 25, was arrested Wed., July 5, for felony grand larceny.

Dead on Christopher

Sex-abuse arrest

Clinton stickup

On Wed., July 12, around 2:16 a.m., police responded to a 911 call of an unconscious male in front of 110 Christopher St. They found a 33-year-old man, unresponsive, with slight bruising on his head. E.M.S. medics responded to the location and transported the man to Lenox Hill Hospital, where he was pronounced dead. There are no arrests and the investigation remains ongoing. The city’s Medical Examiner will determine the cause of death. Police are not releasing the man’s identity to the press pending proper family notification.

Detective Jimmy Alberici, a Sixth Precinct community affairs officer, told The Villager there didn’t appear to be any signs of foul play, and that it looks like he

Police have arrested a Lower East Side man in connection with a child sex-abuse incident inside a building courtyard on Essex St. near Broome St. on Sat., June 3, just before 8 p.m. Police said the suspect tried to chat with an 8-year-old girl, then grabbed her genital area over her clothes and fled.

Daniel Young, 30, of 160 Madison St., was charged with sex-abuse act in a manner injurious to a child.

Police said on Mon., July 3, at 9:30 p.m., two men in their 20s entered Koneko Cafe, at 26 Clinton St., and stuck up the 35-year-old female employee there at gunpoint. She gave them $850, and was not harmed.

One suspect is 5 feet 8 inches tall, 180 pounds and wore a black baseball cap, shorts and black jersey with the number 90 and the words “Kill Ape” on the front. The second suspect wore tan shorts and a green T-shirt. Anyone with information is asked to contact Crime Stoppers. See third item.

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July 13, 2017

COURTESY N.Y.P.D.

Police released this sketch of a man who was found floating dead in the East River off of E. Sixth St. on July 4.

Face of river victim Police have released a sketch — but not the identity — of a man in his 40s who was found dead floating in the East

Meatpack mirror rage Police said a man kicked a mirror, causing a large crack in it, inside The Standard hotel, at 848 Washington St., on

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July 13, 2017

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Gail Borden Chisholm, 62, vintage poster dealer

OBITUARY

BY ROBERT CHISHOLM AND SUZANNE CHISHOLM

G

ail Borden Chisholm, a longtime gallery owner and collector / dealer of vintage original posters in the Village and Chelsea, died July 5 after a three-month illness. The cause of death was lung cancer. She was 62.

Gail chose to spend her final days at home surrounded by loved ones.

For the last 15 years, she lived in a nearly 200-year-old 1827 Federal landmark building at 145 Eighth Ave., above a gallery owned by her brother Robert Chisholm and his partner, Lars Larsson. Gail and Robert co-owned the building.

She also had an apartment in Paris that she spent time in as often as possible for 20 years.

Gail Borden Chisholm was born to Raymond Nelson Chisholm and Martha Belle Borden on Oct. 14, 1954, in Richmond, Virginia. She grew up on a farm with cows, ponies and a hay barn.

She was the youngest and only girl with three older brothers.

Her mother and three of her sisters became nurses during World War II. Her father was a schools superintendent.

When Gail was starting high school, she and her family moved to El Tigre, Venezuela, a small oil company town in the middle of nowhere, for two years before returning to Virginia.

Gail went on to attend Mary Baldwin, a small women’s college, for a couple of years, but felt confined and restricted.

In 1975, her brother, Robert Chisholm, asked if she wanted to come to New York City to run his small gallery at 277 W. Fourth St., between Perry and W. 11th Sts., after he had opened another gallery in Soho on Thompson St. “She was 20,” Robert recalled. “I think she was here the next weekend.”

Early on, the siblings supplemented their gallery income by waiting on tables during the graveyard shift at the newly opened Empire Diner on 10th Ave. Gail soon fell in love with vintage poster art and in 1980 opened her own business, Chisholm Gallery, on Greenwich Ave., where for 13 years she had many devoted customers.

“In the beginning, we were selling paintings and vintage paper,” Robert recalled. “After a short time, she switched over to just selling original vintage posters. This unusual career choice continues now with her lovely gallery at 325 W. 16th St. just steps away from Chelsea Market.”

The Greenwich Ave. gallery ran until the end of 1992. That was followed by the gallery’s move to lower Fifth Ave. in

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July 13, 2017

Gail Chisholm in her galler y in 2001 wearing a peace button in protest of then-President Bush’s invasion of Afghanistan.

a fourth-floor space for a short period.

Next, her gallery was on W. 17th St. and Sixth Ave. in a spacious fifth-floor space.

Another 10 years passed followed by another move — this time to W. 22nd St. and Sixth Ave. In 2010, Gail relocated to her final gallery space at 325½ W. 16th St. Gail Chisholm served as the inaugural president of the International Vintage Poster Dealers Association, starting at the nonprofit’s inception in 1996.

She was also an avid traveler.

“Gail’s life was an adventure.... . It’s hard to imagine a part of the world Gail didn’t visit from India to Bali to South America,” her brother Robert said. “Her love of scuba diving and the sea or water of any sort often directed her travels.

Gail Chisholm in front of her galler y on Greenwich Ave.

“The water romance led her also to a small rustic cottage on a lake in northern New Jersey near Dover. Each year when the community around the lake would take a vote on whether or not to allow electricity, Gail would vote No.” Her niece Suzanne Chisholm recalled Gail as a veritable Renaissance woman.

“A bright star, Gail spread her light, love, laughter, generosity and enthusiasm wherever she went,” Suzanne said.

“A successful woman in many ventures, she was a groundbreaking entrepreneur,

Gail Chisholm’s specialt y was vintage original posters.

passionate world traveler, avid reader, amazing gardener, cat lover, ocean and fish enthusiast and an engaging conversationalist — both in English and in French.

“Gail was steadfast in her opinions and likewise supported many organizations with both her time and her generosity,” Suzanne continued. “She unwaveringly fought for what she believed in and encouraged others to do the same.

“Her Southern roots afforded her a special flair for dinner parties and entertaining, especially at a moment’s notice.

She loved her Virginia country ham!

Gail was an exuberant, lively woman, who loved life, friends and family dearly.

She has left an indelible mark on many lives.”

Surviving are her brothers, Robert Chisholm and his husband Lars Larsson of Chelsea; James Chisholm of Richmond, VA; Raymond Chisholm of Uganda; her niece Suzanne Chisholm of the Village; her nephews Andrew Chisholm and his wife Jennifer of Richmond, VA, Matthew Chisholm and his wife Ashley of Nashville, TN, and Allen Chisholm of Knoxville, TN; her sister-in-law Terryee Lynn Chisholm of Blacksburg, VA, and four great-nieces and great-nephews, Hailey, Carter, Nora and Henry.

In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions can be made in Gail Chisholm’s name to Planned Parenthood or Doctors Without Borders (Medicine Sans Frontier).

Memorial celebrations will be private.

Stories, condolences and memories of Gail can be expressed via e-mail to her brother Robert at robert@posterny.com or on her Facebook page.

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The first cold war: Popsicle vs. Good Humor RHYMES WITH CRAZY

BY LENORE SKENAZY

W

arning: Reading this column may have the same effect it had on the woman writing it.

(I must have a Popsicle or Good Humor right now!). But it wasn’t always as easy as screaming (and going to the freezer, or deli). These things had to be invented, and I think we owe those stone-cold geniuses a salute.

The Popsicle If it weren’t for Frank Epperson, we wouldn’t have the Popsicle. And if it weren’t for his kids, we’d be licking Epsicles, which sounds almost obscene.

Here’s the story.

One night in 1905, when Frank was 11, he left a glass filled with water, KoolAid (or its 1905 equivalent), and the stick he was stirring them with out on his porch. This was in Oakland, the Brooklyn of San Francisco.

You know how they say it’s always beautiful weather in California? Ha. The cup of sweetened water froze solid. Frank pulled it out by the stick and — well, I

think you can tell where this is going.

He made these stick treats for his friends and, years later, he made them for his kids, too, calling them “Epsicles” — a mashup of his name plus icicles. But his kids called them Pop’s Icles, because they were made by their pop. And they convinced him to change the name.

Epperson started selling the Popsicles at Neptune Beach, Oakland’s Coney Island. So novel were they that they had to be described to the public as a “frozen lollipop,” or a “drink on a stick.”

They took off. By May of ’23, a single stand at the real Coney Island (in the real Brooklyn) sold 8,000 in a day.

That same year, Epperson got a patent on his frozen treat. But, debt pressing down, he quickly sold the patent to a guy named Joe Lowe — a decision Epperson later recognized as so epically awful that

he is quoted as saying, “I haven’t been the same since.”

For his part, Lowe expanded the business and, when the Depression hit, made the brilliant move of selling a two-stick Popsicle for the same price — 5 cents — so two kids could (with some persuading, perhaps) break them in half and share them. In 1986, the Popsicle company finally stopped selling doubles, supposedly swayed by moms who complained they were too messy.

One has to wonder if that was truly the case, or if 50 years after the Depression someone on staff pointed out: Why are we still selling two for one?

Now Popsicle is owned by Unilever, and Epperson is buried in the same California cemetery as another food genius: Trader Vic, inventor of the Mai Tai. The Good Humor Bar And what of the yin to the Popsicle’s yang: The Good Humor Bar? Well, it’s complicated — and parallel.

In 1922, an Iowa schoolteacher patented the Eskimo Pie, a square of vanilla ice cream enrobed in a chocolate shell. (I love every word describing that pie.)

Around the same time, in Youngstown, Ohio, Harry Burt invented a chocolate coating that also enrobed a slab of vanilla ice cream. But when his daughter said it was too messy (kids seem essential to the confection invention process), he inserted a stick. He called it the Good Humor

Bar and started selling them from a fleet of 12 trucks outfitted, originally, with the bells from his son’s bobsled.

Burt applied for a patent, but the officials in D.C. demurred, concerned his invention was too similar to the Eskimo Pie. Frustrated, Burt took a bucket of Good Humor bars to D.C. and passed them around the patent office to demonstrate the difference: His had a stick.

Satisfied (or bribed, or just plain happy), the authorities gave him his patent.

Guess what happened next? Burt sued Lowe — the guy who bought the Popsicle company — for copyright infringement.

How dare Lowe sell something else frozen on a stick?

By 1925, the suit was settled out of court and the deal was Popsicle could sell ice on a stick and Good Humor could sell ice cream. And sell they did.

By the 1950s, there were 2,000 Good Humor trucks plying suburbia’s streets.

But by the ’70s, with gas prices, insurance and competition (i.e. Mister Softee) all going up, profits melted. Good Humor didn’t become profitable again till the ’80s, and by then, the bars were sold in stores, not on the streets.

Today, Good Humor is owned by Unilever, too. The bars are still delicious, but like Epperson’s invention, they are no longer a mom-and- (wait for it!) Popsicle business. If you want that, cool off with shaved ice from a cart.

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July 13, 2017

11

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR I loved that church

support community nEWS!

To The Editor: Re “Last Mass looming for Christopher St.’s St. Veronica’s Church” (news article, July 6): I lived directly across from St. Veronica’s for 14 years and seven months. I watched many funerals take place at that church, but no weddings that I can remember. I saw Mother Teresa’s nuns go in and out of the church in their blue and white habits. I saw old people climb the steps to pray.

I loved that church and the history of the neighborhood that it embodied. That church belonged to poor, hard-working people. There’s no longer a place for them in the West Village.

I am sad that the church is closing.

Terese Loeb Kreuzer

Doris’s caring cousin

SUBSCRIBE TO THE VILLAGER

CALL 718-260-2516

To The Editor: Re “The best medicine is being back at home” (Eldercare Today, July 6) and Scoopy’s Notebook (thevillager.com, July 6): My dear cousin! Mukava nähdä sinua noin hyväkuntoisena. (Translation from the Finnish: “Nice to see you so good.”)

Eija Heikkilä

Looking great!

To The Editor: Re “The best medicine is being back at home” (Eldercare Today, July 6) and Scoopy’s Notebook (thevillager.com, July 6): So happy to see Doris Diether looking great and still active in Greenwich Village life!

Reed Ide

Product-launch perils To The Editor: Re “Locals Supremely annoyed by streetwear Co.’s

events” (news article, July 6): In addition, there is the danger to cyclists at these product launches in Soho. Especially on Prince St., security guards or people joining outside the line often suddenly step out into the narrow, already-dangerous bike lane, forcing cyclists to swerve into the roadway and into car and truck traffic. I can’t even count anymore how many times I have witnessed this.

Patricia Hallstein

Supreme showdown To The Editor: Re “Locals Supremely annoyed by streetwear Co.’s events” (news article, July 6): We had a similar “event” up here at Hell’s Kitchen Park on May 1. That was the incident that precipitated the letter from the Park Department to Supreme. I guess they are staying “Downtown” now.

We haven’t seen them again, thank you very much, and I did report the “event” and provided the Parks letter to our precinct commanding officer, Inspector Venice.

In our case, Supreme had no permit to be in Hell’s Kitchen Park. I take care of one of the gardens there.

I (66 years old, 5 feet 10 inches, 170 pounds, white-haired) approached the gigantic gentleman in charge.

“Do you have a permit?” I asked, craning my neck.

“No,” he replied, rather sheepishly.

I was emboldened.

“Well, you can’t have events in the park without a permit.”

He said they’d wrap it up.

They did.

I called the cops, our councilmember and our park supervisor.

Tom Cayler E-mail letters, not longer than 250 words in length, to news@thevillager.com or fax to 212-229-2790 or mail to The Villager, Letters to the Editor, 1 MetroTech North, 10th floor, Brooklyn, NY 11201. Please include phone number for confirmation purposes. The Villager reserves the right to edit letters for space, grammar, clarity and libel. Anonymous letters will not be published.

IRA BLUTREICH

Jeff Bezos and Amazon are out of control.

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July 13, 2017

TheVillager.com

The Hudson: My rooftop garden’s ‘water feature’

NOTEBOOK

BY SUSAN BROWNMILLER

L

andscape designers often propose adding a man-made “water feature” to a country estate for visual interest, lively motion and calming sounds. The options include dredging and filling a pond or a lake, or creating a stepped waterfall and a brook. A fountain that recycles its water is recommended for a small city garden. My garden’s water feature is a great stretch of the Hudson River that I am privileged to see from my terrace.

As it flows past the island of Manhattan, the Hudson forms a geographical boundary between New York and New Jersey, and gives me a nodding acquaintance with the mushrooming skylines of Hoboken and Jersey City. On their side of the river, Jersey folks see Manhattan’s skyline from their perspective. If I look north, I can still catch a glimpse of the Palisades, the rocky cliffs formed in the Triassic Period, though they are increasingly obscured by high-rises on both sides of the Hudson.

Looking south, I follow the river as it widens and pours into the gleaming upper bay of New York Harbor, once the heart of the commercial Port of New York and New Jersey. A small island in the bay belongs to “The Lady,” the name air-traffic controllers and harbormasters bestowed on the Statue of Liberty. No other sight has inspired more hope, extended such grave assurance of protection, or is more unconventionally beautiful than her singular presence, her torch held high to welcome immigrants who made the long Atlantic passage to better their lives. My view of America’s freedom icon is fairly distant. I can make out her uplifted arm and torch, her spiked helmet, the folds of her skirt, and supply the details of her vigilant gaze and worried brow from postcards and memory. Even on days of poor visibility, I feel reassured that The Lady is commanding the harbor.

Beyond the curve of the shore, past my vista, the Hudson concludes the journey it began upstate in Adirondack Mountain streams by joining the East River and other urban waterways to flow into the Atlantic Ocean.

Manhattan’s waterfront does not bear much resemblance to the active port it used to be. Luxury ocean liners and their terminals started to dwindle in the latter half of the 20th century when jets became the quick, affordable way to travel.

In another blow, the automated docks of Newark Bay lured container shipping from Manhattan’s labor-intensive cargo piers. During this same half-century, the Hudson acquired a deserved reputation for being polluted and stinky, a disaster area of industrial waste, PCBs, dead fish, lost spawning grounds and raw sewage.

The Left’s folksinging hero Pete Seeger TheVillager.com

PHOTO BY MARY REINHOLZ

Susan Brownmiller, the author of the seminal “Against Our Will: Men, Women and Rape,” has written a new book about her Jane St. penthouse garden.

found a new cause in cleaning up the river; his sloop the Clearwater was an inspiration for other environmental activists who created a tidal wave of lawsuits to enlighten government thinking about the stewardship of rivers and aquatic life.

Today the largest vessels that ply a much cleaner river are the brightly painted, multi-decked cruise ships of the Norwegian, Carnival, Holland America and Princess lines that depart from Midtown terminals to take passengers on short Caribbean holidays. The cruise ships alert smaller craft to their presence by a sonorous blast that makes me stop whatever I’m doing to watch them pass. For a while Disney had ships that tooted “When you wish upon a star” in the halting meter of a kid playing a church organ.

Smaller boats move up, down and across the blue-gray water, leaving their own white wake. Circle Line and Spirit of New York tour boats glide past the many hulking skylines of Manhattan, squat commuter ferries chug to and from Staten Island, excursion boats take sightseers to Ellis and Liberty islands. I see oil tankers and cement barges accompanied by tugs, private yachts and fishing boats, billowing white sailboats, yellow water taxis, outriggers, kayaks and canoes, and preening fireboats that are testing their sprays. Sleek fiberglass “cigarette boats” race by in diminishing numbers.

Once I saw a gray and ghostly battleship that may have been on a journey to be scrapped for its metal. I was not yet in residence for the Parade of Tall Ships from around the world that honored the

1976 Bicentennial, but I had my private viewing platform for the bigger procession of barques and brigantines that arrived to honor the Statue of Liberty’s centennial a decade later.

I get a kick whenever I see the tide move “backwards” up the river, as it does twice a day for periods of more than six hours, propelling saltwater north from the ocean; if the wind is blowing inland I can smell the salt. After an upstream run,

One day this terrace won’t have a river view.

the river changes its course to run south for a similar amount of time. The more powerful downstream tide carries fresh water to the sea. And then the cycle is repeated in the Hudson’s estuarial pattern.

A solid knowledge of tides and currents is important for boat navigation; I am just an observer of surface flow.

Plenty of action takes place in the sky; I find much of it unpleasant. My water feature lies midway in an air corridor for

small planes and helicopters on various missions: escorting sightseers and Financial District commuters, advertising products, performing security surveillance for high-profile events. Officially called the Hudson River Flyway, the air corridor is the 15-mile strip between the George Washington Bridge and the Verrazano Bridge, where the river passes through the Narrows to reach the ocean.

For everyone’s safety, small craft are directed to fly at altitudes below 1,300 feet while big jets command the sky at 30,000 feet and higher. Small-craft pilots are supposed to follow the “visual flight rules” — stay over the water, hew to a shoreline, keep your radio tuned to a frequency for traffic advisories. Travel time in one direction on the flyway is seven minutes if the pilot doesn’t dawdle near The Lady. Once I saw a weekend warrior in a biplane — weekend warriors are what these idiots are called — swerve inland to buzz a building for fun.

On Tuesday morning, Sept. 11, 2001, I was sipping coffee and reading the paper when a friend called at 9 am: “Look out your window — I heard on the radio that a small plane crashed into the World Trade Center.” That was how the news of terrorist hijackers was first reported. “A small plane may have lost control… .”

I looked out my window, past my roses and the expanse of Greenwich Village, toward the Twin Towers, a looming presence vastly out of scale with the rest of the Lower Manhattan skyline. The top half of one tower was engulfed in flames.

As I stared, unbelieving, a second jet dived into the other tower. Oh my god!

One tower collapsed at 10 a.m. The other tower fell a half-hour later. Everything was surreal, like Jean Cocteau’s “The Blood of the Poet,” a silent blackand-white film with repeated images of a crumbling tower. The color TV in my bedroom kept replaying the footage of the crumbling Twin Towers. Sirens wailed as ambulances from St. Vincent’s hospital sped Downtown to collect the injured who might have survived. The president addressed the nation at 8:30 that evening. By then the air had become fetid with the dust of pulverized humans and my apartment was filled with friends who were stranded and couldn’t get home. Some of them slept over.

Sorry to have gone on about 9/11 in a garden book, but I could not suppress what I witnessed that day from my penthouse aerie near the Hudson River.

Sightseeing helicopters have become hugely profitable for entrepreneurs on both sides of the Hudson. I hear the noise from the engines and the whirring blades before the choppers come into view. The sound fills me with dread from another era: the whirring Huey gunships of the Vietnam War that I saw every night on the TV news. I am not the only person to hate the choppers. They are also big HUDSON continued on p. 19

July 13, 2017

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The write stuff at the wall a.k.a. Trump Tower

TALKING POINT

BY BILL TALEN A.K.A. REVEREND BILLY

W

e’re in a strange place, a garden inside Trump Tower. We are facing blank pages with our pens. There are 15 of us, including Savitri D and myself, and singers from the Stop Shopping Choir. We wait for the timekeeper to say, “Write.” We will write nonstop for 45 minutes.

The Trump Company is required to let us sit here under this 700-foot-high slab of gold-tinted glass. Years ago, Trump agreed with the city to keep this garden open to the public in exchange for 24 extra floors. This is Donald Trump’s business headquarters and sometime home, with body-armor-clad men at the door with submachine guns.

Being inside Trumplandia can be unnerving. For the New Yorkers who join us in the tower garden, Trump has been the city’s unsavory clown for decades.

We encountered the gold lettering of his name everywhere and we envisioned posturings with hair in the distance. When

PHOTO BY TEDDY TAM

Alnoor Ladha, of The Rules and International Greenpeace, left, and Reverend Billy during one of the ongoing write-ins at Trump Tower.

we take the five flights of gold-plated escalators up to the garden, we suffer a fullbody immersion. The gold mirrors make a dim, almost soupy light. God, it’s ugly.

“Write!”

We all start scrawling. What we write

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July 13, 2017

might be called secrets, first thoughts, recovered memories, streams of consciousness. I say “secrets” because we don’t share our writing with one another. Not yet, anyway. Now in our fifth week, we haven’t read our work out loud or handed off the journals.

We’re focused on pre-screen writing, as in pre-computers. We use the older technology of longhand and paper. We’re spending time on the other side of pixels, streaming, virtual reality.

This homemade culture of our little band of citizens — at the site of worldwide piracy and hokum and treason — assumes that something has gone radically wrong in our basic social communicating. But it is inside the sentences that you and I speak all day long, let’s admit it.

To borrow from science fiction, there a space-time rip in our language? The Trump tweets, Russian hacks and Koch trolls seem more like symptoms than causes.

Our failure is more devastating than Donald Trump. As a nation, and as a species, we don’t know how to communicate with ourselves. Our town crier function is silenced. The attack-noise of products and law enforcement and fear make our public media conceal more than reveal.

Otherwise, we would have written or spoken something in public about the racism, compelling enough to out the hate. Why haven’t we shown that families must be protected? How can our defense of life itself be demoted to “issues” and “policy” and “write your congressperson?” This 700-foot wall — the tower is the wall, after all — is crawling with Devils!

We don’t need to be great writers. We need to say something. Where is the art

of effective protest, the howl, the arts as a starting-over point, or call it just plain I-don’t-buy-it independence? Freedom of expression has become as irrelevant as White House press conferences.

This is why we are turning inward for a while. Margaret Mead said that revolutions start with a few people talking at a table.

We’re in the thoughtful inhale before the talk. The stakes are so high and the hour is so late. We’ll spend some time tilling the soil of silence.

There are little weeds in the cracks of the pink-granite floor of this so-called garden. There is moss and mold along the walls. We talk to the weeds at the end of our 45 minutes. We ask the weeds to remember us as they hopefully quickly dismantle this modernist slab. Can we be super-weeds in your forest?

Culture starts from inside, quietly under the surface, like a seed in the soil.

The first breath of a thought, before the socializing starts, is the protest that will grow to bury this tower-that-is-the-wall.

We sit together at tables in the garden, with the police and the tourists eyeing us from the edges of the gold decor.

If you would like to sign up to join the Church of Stop Shopping at its write-ins, go to https://www.volunteersignup.org/ DYBHE. Our upcoming International Brown Bag Lunch will feature people from every culture. The garden can accommodate about 150 people.

Reverend Billy and the Stop Shopping Choir will hold an International Brown Bag Lunch at Trump Tower on Tues., July 25, at noon, and will also perform at the Prospect Park band shell on Thurs., July 27, at 7:30 p.m., as a part of Celebrate Brooklyn.

TheVillager.com

Photos by Cylla von Tiedemann

Named Best Musical by the Dora Awards (Toronto’s “Tony”) and the Toronto Critics Association, “Spoon River” is an immersive musical adaptation of Edgar Lee Masters’ “Spoon River Anthology.”

Oh, Canada!

Soulpepper at the Signature sure to send you swooning

BY TRAV S. D. “Canada is looking better and better.”

If you’re like this correspondent, you’ve been uttering those words daily for months. Now that I’ve been introduced to the work of Toronto’s Soulpepper Theatre Company, I am all the more convinced of the rightness of that sentiment.

Founded in 1998, Soulpepper has rapidly grown into something like a national civic theatre for Canada. As this innovative company approaches its 20th season, Canada too celebrates a milestone: the 150th anniversary of Confederation, the moment at which Britain’s remaining North American colonies became Provinces of a single Dominion. In commemoration of both of these historic anniversaries, Soulpepper has taken the unprecSoulpepper’s “Of Human Bondage” stage adaptation plays through July 26.

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SOULPEPPER continued on p. 16 July 13, 2017

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SOULPEPPER continued from p. 15

edented step of bringing the core of their company â&#x20AC;&#x201D; 65 artists â&#x20AC;&#x201D; to New York City, where they are presenting a repertory season at The Pershing Square Signature Center through July 29. The company will be presenting 11 separate productions, including theatrical adaptions of W. Somerset Maughamâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s â&#x20AC;&#x153;Of Human Bondageâ&#x20AC;? and Edgar Lee Mastersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; â&#x20AC;&#x153;Spoon River Anthology,â&#x20AC;? an original concert evening called â&#x20AC;&#x153;New York â&#x20AC;&#x201D; The Melting Pot,â&#x20AC;? and a series of nightly cabarets.

While itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s common for ballet companies, orchestras, and circuses to bring their entire operation to faraway towns, not since the early 20th century has it been usual for an entire company of actors to visit as a single traveling unit as a showcase of the company per se.

Back in the day, such operations were known as stock companies â&#x20AC;&#x201D; an idea quite distinct from the modern notion of touring, in which a single show tours, employing a company specifically hired for that single show. Soulpepper is a repertory company, a group of artists who have been performing together for many years, and who bring with them a menu of several different theatrical productions.

Given the nature of the organization, said Soulpepper Founding Artistic Director Albert Schultz, they have to: â&#x20AC;&#x153;Since weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re a rep company that operates year-round, all of our work is interwoven like a fabric. So the notion of bringing a single show to New York is out of the question. The fabric would just fall apart. Our primary resource is human beings. Theatre is the glue. A lot of our actors go through our training program, the Soulpepper Academy, and so they become profoundly connected. They develop this complicity.

Forgive the pun, but itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s our signature as a company.â&#x20AC;?

I was fortunate to catch â&#x20AC;&#x153;Of Human

Photo by Cylla von Tiedemann

Soulpepperâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s â&#x20AC;&#x153;New York â&#x20AC;&#x201D; The Melting Potâ&#x20AC;? concert, July 21 and 22, looks at immigrant cultureâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s connection to the 20th century soundtrack.

Bondageâ&#x20AC;? and was struck by this quality: a tightly knit ensemble operating as a single, complex organism, with rich, confident interactions that would only be possible where each member knew every other member, just as a musician knows his instrument. Just as impressively, the actors provide the playâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s soundtrack live onstage, meaning that they also literally play musical instruments. Acting and design all function as one interrelated concoction, or, as Schultz described it, a â&#x20AC;&#x153;gumbo.â&#x20AC;? It all makes for a very impressive evening of theatre.

Theater for the New City â&#x20AC;˘ 155 1st Avenue at E. 10th St. Reservations & Info (212) 254-1109 For more info, please visit www.theaterforthenewcity.net

3 2'#. 1 '34+6# 5) '14

3*073

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July 13, 2017

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4* 523 #4 5/ #4

Judging by reviews, Toronto and Canada alike are proud of their homegrown institution. There is a certain logic in Schultz wanting to introduce it to the city he calls â&#x20AC;&#x153;The Center of the Universe.â&#x20AC;? To realize this ambition, Soulpepper launched a special fundraising campaign that netted $1 million. â&#x20AC;&#x153;People wanted this to happen,â&#x20AC;?

Schultz said.

In addition, Soulpepperâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s residency at the Signature Theatre is designed not only to showcase the companyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s work, but its philosophy. â&#x20AC;&#x153;Everything weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re doing here is a reflection of the values of the company,â&#x20AC;? Schultz explained. â&#x20AC;&#x153;The space at Signature is very similar to our own, with a central public space, with four or five venues, or portals, radiating off of it. This creates an opportunity for interactions, for conversations with the audience. In addition to our mainstage shows, we have nightly cabarets in the main space, which Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll be hosting, and company members and guests will be performing. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s an opportunity to get to know us.â&#x20AC;?

And like any good guest, Schultz and Soulpepper have brought their host a gift. In this case, itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a musical concert

called â&#x20AC;&#x153;New York â&#x20AC;&#x201D; The Melting Pot,â&#x20AC;? to be presented on July 21 and 22.

According to its promotional description, the show â&#x20AC;&#x153;traces the contributions of immigrant cultures to the creation of the soundtrack of the 20th century.â&#x20AC;? â&#x20AC;&#x153;Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s an ode to this city and its best impulses,â&#x20AC;? Schultz said. â&#x20AC;&#x153;New York invented the 20th century, largely through the contributions of three refugee cultures: Jewish, Irish, and African American. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a program we first put together in August of last year. Without changing a word weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re finding itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s gained much more resonance given the current political reality.â&#x20AC;?

Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s nice to know Toronto appreciates what makes New York City great, even if a certain son of New York who now presides in Washington seems a little confused on that score.

If the rest of Soulpepperâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s season is anywhere near as good as their production of â&#x20AC;&#x153;Of Human Bondage,â&#x20AC;? none of their â&#x20AC;&#x153;interwoven fabricâ&#x20AC;? is to be missed.

Soulpepper is in residence through July 29 at The Pershing Square Signature Center (480 W. 42nd St., btw. 10th & 11th Aves.). For tickets ($25-$80), call 888-898-1188 or visit soulpepper.org.

TheVillager.com

Installation view, “Roni Horn” (at Hauser & Wirth New York through July 28).

© Roni Horn, courtesy the artist and Hauser & Wirth; photo by Ron Amstutz

Buhmann on Art Roni Horn at Hauser & Wirth

BY STEPHANIE BUHMANN Having worked in sculpture, drawing, photography, and site-specific installation, Roni Horn’s oeuvre spans more than four decades. Her earliest works entailed wedges of solid-colored glass that were set on shelves, as well as an installation and performance centered on an ant farm.

This exhibition will focus on her photographic opus “The Selected Gifts, (1974–

2015)” — a collection of 67 photographs that document various gifts, which the artist received over a period of 41 years.

These include some fascinating and rather unusual objects, such as a fossilized dinosaur egg and a handmade olive tree, but also leather gloves and two copies of Djuna Barnes’ “The Book of Repulsive Women.” Each object is depicted against a plain white background, and takes on a

nearly iconic presence; a token of friendship and diverse human interests. To Horn, they also manifest as something more personally revealing in that each object “is a reflection through the warped optic of others that shows a level of accuracy beyond that of any mirror. A portrait I could not have imagined without the unwitting aid of friends, acquaintances, and knowing strangers.”

In addition, two new bodies of works on paper and glass sculptures complement the installation, reflecting Horn’s ongoing interest in questions of identity, meaning, and perception.

Through July 28 at Hauser & Wirth New York (548 W. 22nd St., btw. 10th & 11th Aves.). Hours: Mon.-Fri., 10am6pm. Call 212-790-3900 or visit hauserwirth.com.

Photo by Ron Amstutz

Photo by Stefan Altenburger Photography Zürich

Roni Horn: “The Dog’s Chorus. Let Slip At the Drop of a Hat” (2016. Watercolour, pen and ink, gum arabic on watercolour paper, tape. Left drawing: 29 1/8 x 22 3/8 x 1 5/8 in. Center: 32 7/8 x 21 5/8 x 1 5/8 in. Right: 31 1/4 x 21 3/4 x 1 5/8 in.).

Roni Horn: “The Selected Gifts, (1974-2015)” (2015-2016. Ink jet prints on Hahnemuehle paper, 67 parts; 13 x 13 in (18 images); 13 x 14 in (3 images); 13 x 16 in (31images); 13 x 18 in (9 images); 13 x 19 in (6 images).

TheVillager.com

July 13, 2017

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Polish G.I. Deli can’t soldier on anymore

PHOTOS BY CLAYTON PATTERSON

David Cohen, left, and Grace Iwuc at Polish G.I. Deli.

A

nother small local business can’t survive the raising rents. Twenty-three years ago, Grace Iwuc opened the Polish G.I. Delicatessen mini market at 109 Frist Ave., between E. Sixth and Seventh Sts. The small space carried a wide variety of imported Polish groceries, deli meats and cheeses, pastries, breads and buns, as well as tasty home-cooked cabbage rolls,

soups, chicken cutlets, sausage and fish.

David Cohen joined her team 10 years ago.

G.I., which closed at the end of June, was almost the last of what was once an abundance of local Polish food retail businesses in the East Village. Gone are most of the Polish restaurants and meat markets as the community continues to go corporate and retail business goes more high-end.

The Hudson: My rooftop garden’s ‘water feature’ HUDSON continued from p. 13

carbon dioxide polluters and a few environmental groups and politicians are calling for their ban. Good luck.

An infrequent but wondrous sight in winter, if we’ve had a spell of subfreezing weather, are the ice formations on the river’s two shores that look like they might meet in the middle, giving me sweet dreams of skating to New Jersey.

The jagged floes never do converge. If they did, the Coast Guard ice patrol would break them up swiftly to keep commercial traffic moving. On overcast, misty summer mornings the river presents another wondrous aspect: It becomes a long sheet of gray glass, a mirror that reflects the shape of the tall buildings on the opposite shore.

Fireworks pop up unexpectedly here and there on summer evenings, launched from a single barge for the enjoyment of invited guests on a nearby pleasure boat. Single-barge fireworks TheVillager.com

are paid for by folks that want to celebrate something — a wedding, an engagement, an anniversary, a birthday — with a big bang. The permit alone costs $50,000. Gay Pride Week in June used to end with fireworks from a barge right in front of me; the show started fashionably late at 10:20 p.m.

After all these years I am pretty blasé about single-barge fi reworks. That’s because the best show of all for lighting up the sky is Macy’s annual Fourth of July display that is often, but not always, fired from four synchronized barges between Chelsea and the mid40s. When I moved to this penthouse, Macy’s gift to the city turned me into a Fourth of July party giver, with all the attendant anxiety one has over hosting an outdoor event. Will it rain and be a washout? There were only two washouts in all the Fourths that Macy’s and I have put on. The sweetest moment of the evening, in my opinion, comes after the grand fi nale, after the last

whistle and boom of exploding chrysanthemums, peonies, rings, hearts and palms (and the last ooohs and ahhhs from my guests) when hundreds of pleasure boats that gathered on the river to watch the show begin their voyage home in the suddenly quiet dark.

(In the last couple of years Macy’s has switched to the East River for its fireworks extravaganza. I hope they return to my river soon.)

I’m lucky to still see as much of the Hudson as I do. Every year a few more high-rises spring up between the river and me on land that used to house factories and meatpacking plants outside the protection of the Greenwich Village Historic District. The city and some private interests have concocted grand plans for the derelict wood pilings that used to support working piers. Pier 54 was torn town for an amphitheater that will jut into the river.

Pier 40, the site of a neighborhood soccer field, tennis courts and dog runs,

is up for grabs. The Whitney Museum built a new home on Meatpacking District land in front of my eyes. After the cleverly designed structure opened to the public, I begrudgingly warmed to having an art museum close by and took out a membership even though the damn thing blocked a chunk of my river view.

It is an axiom of city life that people in tall buildings with astonishing but unprotected views will fi nd their vistas obstructed by newer and taller buildings. Nobody owes me a sweeping view of the Hudson. One day, maybe in my lifetime, there won’t be a river view from this terrace at all.

Quoting Ralph Waldo Emerson, circa 1846: “Who looks upon a river in a meditative hour and is not reminded of the flux of all things?”

Excerpted from Susan Brownmiller’s new book, “My City Highrise Garden” (Rutgers University Press) July 13, 2017

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July 13, 2017

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Klan slammed at Charlottesville, VA, Lee statue

PHOTOS BY JOHN PENLEY

The Nor th Carolina Ku Klux Klan members only got about a half hour to protest since police feared for the racists’ safet y due to the large crowd of counterprotesters. The latter pelted the Klan members with mini water bottles. Later on, police unleashed tear gas and made arrests.

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ormer East Village activist John Penley was in Charlottesville, Virginia, this past Sunday covering the Ku Klux Klan protest over that city’s plan to tear down an equestrian statue of Robert E. Lee, the Confederate Civil War general.

A contingent of about 50 North Carolina Klan members was met by a

far larger group of hundreds of counterprotesters. The latter, at fi rst, kept the Klan from even getting to their rally point. Then, once the white supremacists fi nally commenced their demonstration, police warned them after only a half hour that there were too many counterprotesters and ordered them to call it off. But it was

The anti-Klan group included Black Lives Matter protesters, Vietnam Veterans Against The War and other concerned citizens.

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July 13, 2017

only after the Klan managed to leave that things broke loose and tear gas was fi red. “They tear-gassed everyone,” Penley said.

Twenty-three counterprotesters were arrested, four on felony charges.

The activist, who now lives in his native North Carolina, said it was Richard Spencer and his alt-right cohort who made Charlottesville a lightning rod for racists after leading a torch-lit protest there in May in opposition to the Lee monument’s removal. Spencer intends to return there for another protest on Aug. 12, and Penley plans to cover that one, too.

“He’s the same as the Klan,” Penley said of Spencer, “but more sophisticated.”

He said that, this time, a fair number of the Klan’s signs were not targeting blacks as much as Jews, homosexuals and “race mixers.”

“I think they’re trying to get more people,” he said.

Penley was interviewed during the dueling protests by RT TV news, which, he proudly noted, identified him as a journalist for “The Village [sic] Newspaper.”

“Since Trump has been elected, on all levels...they’re trying to pull back the clock on white supremacy and institutional racism,” he told the Russian outlet. “The white people that voted for Trump want that stuff to come back. They feel threatened.”

Lincoln Anderson

Dancing to the beat of different drummers: Black Lives Matters activists, Jesus freaks and a man spor ting a loincloth with half his head shaved all brushed shoulders at the chaotic rally.

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protest; Alt-righters plan to return next month

Amanda Barker, whose husband is the imperial wizard of the Loyal White Knights of Nor th Carolina, had a lot to say to the media.

Police arrest a counterprotester after the Ku Klux Klan rally in Charlottesville.

A Rober t E. Lee statue defender spor ting a Confederate flag and hat (and jumbo knife on his belt, not visible in photo) faces off with Black Lives Matter activists.

The Klan was outnumbered by counterprotesters.

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Anti-hood demonstrators in the â&#x20AC;&#x2122;hood.

July 13, 2017

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July 13, 2017

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