On the night of Obama's election we danced in the streets in Nolita. I wandered up to Union Square. The park cracked with the joy. We had a black president. An older black man and I met eyes. We cried and hugged remembering the struggle. A small phalanx of riot police gathered at the corner of University and 14th Street. They were nervous. Their white-shirted officer scanned the celebration and spotted a reveler climbing a street lamp. People were cheering him. The captain shouted out an order. The squad linked shields. I strode in front of the officers and said, "Stand down. I'll handle this."
"How?" demanded the captain. "This is a big crowd "
"Big?" I laughed and said, "This is nothing. I was a doorman at Studio 54. Gimme thirty seconds."
I walked across the street, pushed through the crowd, shouted to the young man on the pole to get down. He obeyed, since I pointed to the cops. Then returned to the cops and said, "That's how you handle a crowd."
ps. I had only been a doorman at Studio for a month well after Steve and Ian sold it to Mark Fleischman, who bought it, because no one ever let him in, despite his wealth. The crowds on West 54th Street were not the thousands faced by Mark Binecke and his crew, but sometimes they numbered a couple score.
Vote early, vote often. - Mayor James Michael Curley of Boston
No comments:
Post a Comment