We did have a little excitement on Wednesday. Let me set the stage for why two police officers would show up at our house yesterday afternoon. We're having a yard sale this coming weekend (June 5 and 6). So I've been out and around pasting up flyers to alert the neighborhood and gather prospective buyers. It seems there's a guy in our neighborhood whose pitiful and self-appointed role in life is to remove flyers that have been placed on city property (lamppost, telephone poles, etc.) This man is despised by the community group because although he poses as a community activist, he usually is very disruptive and divisive. But the intense dislike is tempered by some kind of unexplained fear as well and so he's been tolerated (and thus, elevated in stature) over the years. I'm quite aware of his predilection for tearing down flyers and, having lots of time on my hands, just put them right back up again the very next day. Well Nutso (that's not his real doesn't like that so what does he do. Being the frustrated cop that he could never be, he has cozied up to the police over the years and he calls his "friend", the Captain at the local precinct. Probably wanting to get rid of Mr. Nutso, the Captain dispatches the community relations officer and his assistant to my house. "Are you Matty Weinstein. Now I know that Nutso calls me "Matty" (no one else does) so I know, immediately, what's up and who's responsible for this visit. Extremely apologetic and polite, they inform me (showing me my flyer)that's it's illegal to place these on city property. If I'm caught doing it I could receive a summons. I promised to desist and the cop asks, "by the way, what kind of photo equipment are you selling?"
Anyway, Stacey and I went out again this morning (police notwithstanding) and plastered Brighton Beach Avenue. I'll be damned. We took turns looking out for patrol cars that might sneak up on us. Between you and me though, we don't know anything about those flyers, right?
And here's the handiwork.
I worked at the Barbaro office yesterday. Just calling "possibles" as Mike, the office manager put it. "Possibles" means people who might possibly work on the campaign. So I have to feel them out on the phone and then proceed from there if I could get a "live one."
Well I was able to call about 20 or 30 and of that about one was fairly interested. I thought that wasn't bad at all. But it's time consuming and pretty soon I found myself on the ferry once again, headed back to Manhattan. I can't get over that ferry ride (and I don't think I ever will). It's so majestic and it's different at different times of the day.
Here's the Statue floating on a tousled, whipped up bay with thunder clouds approaching in late afternoon. Destination: Manhattan.
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As today is Thursday and I've volunteered at the campaign headquarters for both Wednesday and Thursday, I'm off again to that strange and remote borough, Staten Island. Some interesting facts I learned yesterday:
• Staten Island has the largest percentage of registered Democrats of any borough.
• It also has the largest percentage of union households.
So why, you might ask, do they elect the likes of a Vito Fosella, a diehard Bush-Republican time and again, in fact, voting against their very self-interests?
Good question, but no easy answer. It has to do with the nature of previous Democratic candidates that have been run in opposition to him and other conservative-izing influences on the primarily white, working class.
Frank Barbaro, on the other hand, is the Rx that can turn that perplexing equation around. The job at hand is to reach all those Democratic, union households with his name and his message.
To that end, Ray (another office staffer) and I ventured out to Forest Avenue in a lovely residential neighborhood bordering Silver Lake Park. Every hear of that park? No? It's huge, green and hilly and the vistas of far-in-the-distance, Manhattan are breathtaking.
We drove down Forest Avenue until we hit a tidy strip of shops. Ray took one side of the street. I took the other. Together, we made that little strip look like Barbaro territory! I thought we might get some hostility. To the contrary, merchants were very friendly. Some were more than friendly. Downright enthusiastic. Vito lookout ... you are not greatly admired. That was my take on the situation.
Ray is an ace at getting merchants to hang up Frank's posters. Here at Gene's Bakery on Forest Avenue.
On our way back, looking down Victory Boulevard. Wow! What a view!
After that, Ray and I imbibed a cold one at the Stork's Nest back on Bay Street where the owner said he didn't want to offend his customers by putting up a sign but would gladly put one upstairs (a residence) in the window. And he did. As we sipped our Irish brew: an ice cold Killian's and traded stories back and forth. He's 59; I'm 58. We had a lot of good ones to share.
Yo! Here is the fruit of our labors at the Stork's Nest.
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