The Harsimus Branch Embankment - Jersey City

Last Wednesday I left Clinton Hill to act the role of a drunken pool player in low-budget film. LATE FAME. A movie from a 1894 novella about a forgotten poet discovered by the young. My friend was the lead.

"This movie is about you."

Famous for never. I know it well

One scene was all I got.

A local losing at pool to the hero's friend. None of the extras looked like barfly. The actor couldn't play eight-ball. I guess I was there to add cred. I had drank, since the age of 12. I hadn't had a drink in four years. Doctors' orders. No other choice other than to be sober.

The shoot began at 9. I was out at 2.

I walked to the Grove Street past the Harsimus Branch Embankment. Erected in the 1900s to carry trains to New York Harbor. Red sandstone. Each block a ton. According to Wikipedia the Pennsylvania Railroad branch served its freight yards and carfloat operations on the Hudson River at Harsimus Cove

Landscape historian John Stilgoe writes of the structure as having “the everlasting solidity of Egyptian pyramids and Inca roads."

Fairly amazing masonry work and still standing, although the ground has sunk under its weight. The height varies from 13 to 27 feet. The top is inaccessible to the public and since its closure in the 1990s nature has taken over with woods spanning the one mile stretch.

I saw no way to scale the walls

A new Eden.

Without man.

No Adam or Eve.

Mankind back to whence we came

No one.

Ps I thought the Embankment was pre-Roman.

Jersey Oktoberfest

Last week the owner of the Old Danceteria extended an invitation to celebrate the Oktoberfest at the Zeppelin Hall in Jersey City.

"Bring a friend. All the beer you can drink and bratwurst you can eat."

John had always been a gracious host and I decided to bring along Dirty Dave and Wasta Steve.

"New Jersey?" Dirty Dave traveled the world and the Garden State was not on his must-see list of destinations. "That's Bridge and Tunnel land."

I know." Jersey was two rivers away from the Fort Greene Observatory in Brooklyn and filled with Jerseyites. Few people from Brooklyn ever went to Jersey, but I was from Boston and John was offering us a fabulous Oktober fest.

"Free beer. Free sausages. An oom-pah band and your old boss will be happy to see you." Dirty Dave had worked for John as a doorman. They hadn't seen each other in years and I said, "It will be a good surprise for the both of you. Plus Wasta Steve will be with us."

"Okay, I'll go."

Wasta Steve needed little convincing. I had arranged seats at the opening night of this season's Saturday Night Live for his girlfriend and he was free for a Saturday night of drinking in Jersey.

That evening we met in Fort Greene and took the F train to join Dirty Dave in the West Village to complete the last leg of the journey on the PATH train from the West 9th Street.

The tunnel was warm with the last of summer. The passengers were no different than Manhattanites or the denizens of Brooklyn. We arrived at the Zeppelin Hall at 8. The bouncer waved in Dirty Dave and me, but checked Wasta Stave's ID. He was under 30. I texted John, who replied to meet him at the bar. The place was packed with clean-cut beer-drinkers. The three of us fit right in.

John joined us at the bar.

He greeted me with a hug.

Dirty Dave received a broad smile.

"What you want?" he asked Wasta Steve. John was the consummate host.

"Beer and brat." Wasta Steve was from Indian. His family was Polish. They loved the combo.

"Your wish is my command."

John served us himself.

We ate and drank to our hearts' delight.

John and Dirty Dave spoke of old times.

We left together and sped through the Holland Tunnel.

I crossed the East River on the Manhattan Bridge.

It had been a great Oktoberfest.

Even with all the bridges and tunnels.

Trinken, essen, und denn schlafen.

Ain't nothing better.

Oktoberfest 2012

Why did Doctor Nick instruct me to give up beer on the cusp of Oktoberfest?

It's a cruel world.

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Out My Window

Last night I saw the above photo posted on FB by John Argento, the owner of the Surf Bar in Jersey City. I looked out my window and saw the twin columns of light marking the approaching commemoration of 9/11. I called a friend on the phone. Eleven years ago he and I along with several other friends had watched the collapse from his roof. Billy answered the phone and I stopped speaking for a second, then started crying. "Pete, are you okay?" He thought "Yeah." I answered after a few seconds. It was a lie. "I'm looking at the twin lights over Manhattan and thought about you." "It's eleven years." "Not to me." I can smell the smoke to this day. "Me neither. Are you okay?" "Yeah, I guess so." "You take care, brother." "I will." And we will never forget.