Man Made Lake

Tremont, the Bronx

    I've noticed a consistent hierarchy of the boroughs, both in conversation and in writing.  Manhattan is, of course, Manhattan.  Brooklyn is typically associated with brownstones and pre-WWII ethnic enclaves, however false they may be, not to mention recent gentrification across a rash of neighborhoods.  It was also a functioning independent city for a time, earning it a distinct downtown, intense pride, and the rank of borough #2. 

    Queens is by and large considered a significant drop from Brooklyn.  A smattering of townships and unincorporated neighborhoods upon being annexed into the city, Queens is essentially a postwar-borough, largely an early, ugly attempt at suburbia.  A handful of attractive gentrifying neighborhoods, easy subway access to midtown and the heart of New York's "melting pot" keep it a step above the remaining boroughs.

    Staten Island and the Bronx, for their own reasons, tie for last. 

    Staten Island was mostly rural before the Federal Highway Act.  Aside from a handful of Victorian homes and some farm houses, it's suburban.  It's so disconnected from the rest of the city, both mentally and physically, that the "forgotten borough" is typically not included on maps. 

    The Bronx, to it's credit, has great subway access.  Home to a massive art deco building stock and some of the city's only hills, the Bronx isn't physically lacking.  But it can't shake it's rough history, and the young gentrifiers have generally steered clear.  Everybody I talk to always suggests the same two or three destinations (including the zoo).  I'm skeptical that a borough of New York City that has so much history and is home to over a million people can have so little to offer.

    And yet, thus far that's been my experience.

Broke As a Joke

How To Make A Dollar Outta Fifteen Cent

   During my weekly ventures into new neighborhoods I've found that you can tell a lot about a local population from their storefronts.  For example, I live in a Polish neighborhood and there is a significant number of meat markets.  Coincidentally, cured meat is a staple of the Polish diet.  If you go to any Chinatown in North America you are guaranteed an overabundance of internet cafes, indicative of their youths' addiction to online gaming.  In Seattle's Georgetown, the hippest neighborhood in the world, the priorities are clear from a scarce five businesses: a gallery, a coffee shop, two bars, and a Vespa retailer.  Arab neighborhoods always have mosques, Irish neighborhoods always have pubs.

   I started noticing a certain discomfort with the local businesses when visiting exceptionally poor neighborhoods.  In the middle a three- or four-hour long walk it's nice to take a break somewhere.  Maybe have a cup of coffee or a small sandwich, maybe just to use a bathroom or sit and think about what I've been seeing.  But I found this consistently hard to do.  No coffee shops, no bakeries, no sit-down restaurants besides McDonalds, no working bathrooms.  No grocery stores where I could buy an apple or a loaf of bread and some cheese.  Nothing.

   This got me thinking about what local amenities I would want, what businesses I would patronize, if I had less disposable income.  Say my girlfriend lost her job and I suddenly had to cover us both.  The biggest concern would definitely be food.  I'd want a decent grocery store nearby, or, better yet, a farmers market (they're cheaper).  Even better, I'd want a little plot in a community garden to grow my own food.  It would be nice to have a local credit union in the neighborhood since they often have better rates than big banks.  Throw in a reasonably priced internet cafe and a little library branch and I'd be set.  Yet my ideal poverty stricken lifestyle would be completely unattainable in any corresponding neighborhood in New York. 

   When a neighborhood is poor enough, ethnicity becomes irrelevant.  The businesses are always the same.  Food seems to be the lowest priority.  There are no decently sized grocery stores or even a basic fruit market or bakery.  All food is bought at overpriced corner bodegas, most of which severely lacks nutritional content.  Restaurants are scarce and tend to be limited to fast food chains (and knockoffs).  You're best bet is the little carts selling gyros and hot dogs. 

   Some of the storefronts, as sad as they are, may be expected in such an environment: Western Unions, military recruiting centers, liquor stores.  I find the others confusing.  There are always "gift" stores selling useless cheap knickknacks, often specializing in luggage.  Why would poor people invest so heavily in suitcases?  Nevertheless, in any poor neighborhood you'll find several of these stores spilling onto the sidewalk.  Electronics stores, especially video games and cell phones, are also trivial yet ubiquitous.  Above all else, the businesses that I see the most in these neighborhoods are shoe stores, jewelry shops, beauty supplies, nail salons, and hair salons.  These commodities are anything but cheap.

   A September article in the New York Times about pawn shops in the Bronx told the story of a woman who pawns the same piece of jewelry over and over again.  In many ways, pawn shops function like banks for those who don't have a bank account, jewelry being their sole liquidable assets.  The author wrote that the woman's story "illustrates the murky ground between financial help and sentimental regret, between luxury and necessity, that the stores occupy."

   Initially one might think that the counterintuitive business climate in New Yorks slums can be explained by the lack of education and discipline of the neighborhood residents.  Their unhealthy habits and lust for flashy appearances help solidify the cycle of poverty and ensure that they will never succeed.  On further inspection, however, I've found that in all neighborhoods people buy useless shit that makes you pretty, regardless of the median income.  New York would no doubt be a frustrating city to be poor in given the high cost of living and the widespread display of outrageous wealth.  The difference is that to fill their apartments with plastic junk, to look in the mirror with a sliver of pride, to be modern, the poor have to make greater sacrifices: their health, their financial security, or both.

(photos taken in the Hub, the retail center of the South Bronx)

Mott Haven, the Bronx

    At one time, people thought of the Bronx along east-west lines.  The west was hilly and older, the east flat and new.  Gradually, however, the Mott Haven neighborhood at the southern tip of the borough developed into New York's worst and America's most notorious slum.  As the blight in Mott Haven spread to surrounding neighborhoods, people started thinking of the Bronx along north-south lines.  Thus the term "South Bronx."

    By the 70s, anti-American governments were showing the South Bronx in primary school textbooks to shine light on the hypocrasy of American ideals.  To this day, when something is a mess the French say, "C'est le Bronx."

    Vacant lots were filled in with new housing during the 80s and 90s and things improved to the point where I can now walk around while it's still light out and feel relatively safe.  Real estate has attempted to brand the area "SoBro" and turn factories into artists lofts.  However, this is the United States' poorest congressional district with the worst child asthma rates, so don't hold your breath.  

Highbridge, the Bronx

    Hike the steep grades of Highbridge and right away you'll notice beautiful details on art deco apartment buildings. A neighborhood for the elite, no? Then you'll notice the more recent layers: inner courtyards cheaply fenced off by the New York City Housing Authority, NYPD signs advising against loitering in hallways, amateurish graffiti, broken glass, barbwire.

    Then you'll realize you're being stared at by fifteen locals slumped over the stoops of housing so homogeneous it has to be public. Finally, you'll remember that you're in the South Bronx and not Cape Cod.

    The difference in quality of the various layers is fascinating. The vintage fire escapes might feature rounded edges and other art deco patterns that were clearly not a cost saving measure. The post-ADA wheelchair ramps, on the other hand, might have unfinished 2-inch pipe for handrails. All in all a pretty sad neighborhood but probably, as the locals say about every neighborhood here, "not as bad as it used to be." Still, the neglected step streets would nauseate any San Franciscan. And city life without a grocery store close by is akin to cruel and unusual punishment.