The End of the Beginning
John Baxter speaks with a thick Irish brogue but has been an American citizen for the past 45 years. The New York Times profiled he and his hotel at Rockaway Park a few years ago. "Please read all the house rules carefully or ask management to read them to you" , states the sign in the lobby of the Baxter Hotel - Just a look at the outside let's you know what you might be in for on the inside. Baxter has been a supporter of Occupy Wall Street since the very beginning and when he heard of the eviction of Zuccotti Park's most famous residents, he offered his hotel as refuge for the displaced occupiers. At no cost to OWS at all.
Home Sweet Home Rockaway
"If you need a home in a hurry and do not mind salt air and salty neighbors, with $130 and your own roll of toilet paper you can move into the Baxter Hotel in Rockaway Park, a half-block from the Atlantic Ocean.", reads the Times. "$130, with no deposit, no security and no questions asked.". but after a week, the occupiers seemed to have broken at least one unwritten rule. Asked about the house rules, Baxter's manager, Mr. Reeder said, "Just don't do anything to make us kick you out." At the end of the A train line and indeed at the end of the road of life for many, lies the shoreline at Rockaway beach. Comparable to the Hamptons in terms of surf and sand quality, Rockaway Beach remains famous only in an old Ramones song and infamous in that the strip of sand is lined with project housing and S.R.O, old folks and psychiatric homes for those even too unsavory to live in the city proper - and if you believe many of the press reports on the now evicted OWS camp at Zuccotti, perfect for the occupants. But they fucked even that up somehow.
I awoke one morning to the arguments of an iPhone robbery, a drunk guy and an unapologetic call to Baxter from OWS housing. The last straw had fallen at the last stand. We were told we had one night left and that would be the end of it. I spent the day trying to arrange alternative housing and returned around midnight to find the security rollscreens down and padlocked tight. In my day away, even our one more night had fallen away. I spent the night sleeping on the train and ending up at Grand Central for a finish nap on one of the old benches downstairs, sleeping upright so as not to be jostled or arrested by the police in the AM. Finding nowhere suitable the next day, I considered Grand Central again but found it being cleaned out of vagrants at 2AM by police and service workers. That night I curled up in a recessed door to an Indian restaurant named Nirvana on Lexington. The irony of the name was not lost on me. I awoke the next morning at six to the sounds of trucks and traffic getting to start another day. And so would I, thankfully.
Leave me alone! I'm just a f*cking tourist!
The church at 86th St. is called St Paul and St. Andrews (I didn't even know they were friends) and has been a friend to protesters, the homeless and other divergent groups in the city for years. In the days during our Rockaway stay, SPSA had had a change in OWS management and was suggested to me again as an option again. A few more emails and a stop by the door and I was in - and allowed by the same guy who had turned me away so many times before. Occupations are evolving beings, and finally, this one had evolved in my direction.
I have been there four nights now and it's a very comfortable stay. We sleep in the warm and carpeted sanctuary and even have a grand piano at our disposal - although we could do without some of the professed pianists. During my days at the occupation I've evolved the box painting into making signs for ersatz protesters. The signs I make are funny and geared to putting a lighthearted spin on the whole affair. The one above, "LEAVE ME ALONE, - I'm just a f*cking tourist" was made as a joke that I didn't think anyone would actually buy. But the woman came up, took a look, and told her son, "I want that one, because I'm a tourist". She had arrived that day from Florida and told her son the first thing she wanted to see was Occupy Wall Street. Funny how these things work out.
Recently there was a story where Chelsea Clinton quoted her grandmother regarding how she lived her life in the spotlight. "Life is not about what happens to you, but what you do with what happens to you", her grandmother said. And that is exactly how I have come to treat this experience. If you like the stories, please pass them on.
(Note: You can view every article as one long page if you sign up as an Advocate Member, or higher).
1
1
1
