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Author Archives: Thomas Seubert
Posts: 17 (archived below)
Comments: 26
Tough Parking in Forest Hills
The black SUV behind me erupted with an irritated shriek as I slowed down to read the DOT sign that said, “One Hour Metered Parking.” Annoyed by the impatient motorist behind me, I sped away and made a right onto Austin Street, immediately getting stranded behind a double-parked truck. Traffic on the opposite side of the two-way road was dense; it was impossible to pass. The driver of the black SUV, who also made the right-hand turn, leaned on his horn again. “Where do you want me to go?!” I yelled into the rearview mirror.
I decided to make a U-turn, heading into a residential area of Forest Hills. After two rights and a left, a circular signpost caught my attention. It read, “Private Street. Permit Parking Only.” A couple of blocks further down, another DOT post indicated the stretch of public road I was about to enter was alternate-side parking only and parking restrictions would be going into effect in ten minutes.
When I finally found a space (a several minute walk from Austin Street), a pedestrian walking past my car must have discerned my frustration and said, “Parking is just horrendous here, man. There’s nothing you can do.”
With few parking spaces to spare on Austin Street and in the surrounding area of Forest Hills, Queens, some people opt to double-park their cars and trucks in the middle of roadways, causing traffic back-ups. Eric Isaac, who works in the area said, “One day a truck needed to unload and had nowhere to pull-in. Cars in that lane didn’t move for seven light changes.” He continued, “Surprisingly, people only started beeping after the third light change.”
According to Isaac, the few who find parking spaces aren’t finished in the parking war. “People are always out running to refill meters or switch their cars to the other side of the street on alternate side parking days. That’s just how it works here.”
An abundance of cars on the road coupled with city-regulated parking makes Austin Street a difficult place to find parking, and the area surrounding Austin Street offers little relief. To the south of the commercial stretch, roads become private, only members of a Forest Hills gated community can park there. To the north, Queens Boulevard, a multi-lane roadway, distances Austin Street’s patrons, commuters, and business owners from any additional parking spaces, while most of the streets in the area are decorated with alternate side parking signs.
Will Niklaus, a commuter who drives into Forest Hills, said, “I have to leave earlier when it’s an alternate side parking day. I spend more time searching for a spot, and I end up three blocks further from where I want to be.” Like most commuters, Niklaus cannot park at meters with one or two hour limits and is forced to search alternate side parking streets for spaces. He understands the necessity of alternate side parking, but thinks the city government should amend when these regulations are put into affect. “The city should change the times of alternate side parking to nights or early evenings so it won’t affect commuters trying to get to school or work.”
The New York City Department of Transportation doesn’t view alternate side parking as a hindrance. A 2008 study conducted by the DOT in Park Slope, Brooklyn, determined that “parking saturation” is the same no matter the status of alternate side parking, and that almost fifty percent of New Yorkers feel parking is equally difficult whether alternate side rules are suspended or implemented.
In Forest Hills, due to the many facets affecting parking, local government bodies are “guarded” when it comes to the parking situation faced by commuters, residents, and visitors. Frank Galluscio, the district manager of Queens Community Board 6, meets with the local police and fire captains every month to discuss various issues in the community. Galluscio said, “Parking is always on our agenda. We monitor ticket statistics compiled by the police department.” Though crime and moving violation statistics are available on the local 112th precinct’s website, parking summonses are not currently public record. Galluscio added, “We take this issue very seriously.”
The community board tries to work with business owners when parking interferes with their daily operations. “The Chamber of Commerce offers merchants deals when it comes to parking, sometimes in the form of parking permits,” said Galluscio. In addition to parking permits, private lots work out deals with business owners who need to come and go as they please. Galluscio added, “Our goal is to keep things running smoothly… We just look to realistically communicate that parking is tight here.”
The district manager cites a concert held this past summer as an example of exemplary communication with local businesses and the public. Mumford and Sons, a British rock/folk band performed at Forest Hills Tennis Stadium, located a few blocks away from Austin Street, drawing an estimated sixteen thousand people to the area. Streets were closed to traffic, and a lot of parking was reserved for concert personnel. Galluscio said, “People were told parking would be a premium and wouldn’t be available that night. Concert tickets were labeled ‘Green Event’ and encouraged people to take the MTA or LIRR trains to the show.”
Local businesses welcomed the influx of people coming into Forest Hills even though it meant less parking was available. One Forest Hills business owner said, “Businesses just need accessibility. As long as people can get here… that’s most important.”
On the day of the concert, Station House, a bar that sits in-between the tennis stadium and Austin Street, was packed. Paolo Chioni, a server at the restaurant, said, “We definitely were not affected negatively by the concert. A lot of people came into the bar after the show ended.” Chioni continued, “Even regularly, it seems a lack of parking doesn’t really hurt us. People either walk here or just look for parking… a little further away.”
Patrons of the local businesses, who have to drive to get to the area, feel they are the ones left out of the situation. In addition to commuting into Forest Hills, Will Niklaus enjoys going to restaurants and shops in the area but often times opts not to visit his favorite hangouts. “If I’m looking for something quick, easy, or convenient I won’t go over to Austin Street. Parking is too tough.”
For Frank Galluscio and Queens Community Board 6, protecting the parking spots on Austin Street and open, realistic communication with the public is the key to the situation. “Right now we don’t want to lose any more parking spots than we already have… People understand parking is something they have to contend with. They don’t love it, but they understand it.”
An Imam Right in the Middle of Conflict
“A Muslim Leader in Brooklyn, Reconciling 2 Worlds,” written by Andrea Elliott, tells the microcosmic story of Sheik Reda Shata, an imam originally from Egypt, now leading a mosque in Brooklyn. In reporting Shata’s life story and struggles as an American imam, Elliott sheds light on the macrocosmic issue of what it is like for Muslims all throughout the United States, and how two worlds need “reconciling.”
Elliott’s piece reveals itself to be a feature article in the very first sentence. “The imam begins his trek before dawn, his long robe billowing like a ghost…” Elliott’s rich descriptions and creative passages tell Shata’s story in a unique way. For example, she describes Shata as an “Islamic judge and nursery school principal, a matchmaker and marriage counselor, a 24-hour hot line on all things Islamic.” Descriptive passages like the opening lede and this description of Shata show this is anything but a news story.
Despite Elliott’s strong writing, a reader might think her reporting is lacking, in that Shata’s voice is the main driving force behind this piece. And since this is a conflict story, she should have more people weighing in. However, this is hardly the case. Shata is the conflict in this story. He is one of the few who can see into two worlds—the Muslim religion in America and the stricter Muslim religion originating overseas. His job involves on blending these two worlds and making things work. If an important claim is made by Shata or Elliott, Elliott appropriately backs up the claim with quotes from experts. The voices of another imam, a Muslim activist, a retired police officer, a woman from an anecdotal story, a counselor, and a psychiatrist are all included in this piece, making it very well reported.
Posted in Conflict Story, Uncategorized
Tagged Thomas Seubert
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Changing Times For A Volunteer Ambulance Corps
Looming in the shadow of the LIRR trestle, sits what used to be Forest Hills’ most prominent community service, the Forest Hills Volunteer Ambulance Corps, or FHVAC. The single-story building housing the corps, located at 92-29 Metropolitan Avenue, is the second location of the forty-year-old organization, and most passersby don’t think twice about the unimpressive structure or the hardworking volunteers within. Back in the seventies, FHVAC experienced an unbridled rise in communal esteem, a night rarely passed without Forest Hills 1 darting out of the brown garage, sirens shrieking.
The creation of the Forest Hills Volunteer Ambulance Corps was instigated by unreliable municipal, emergency medical care. Throughout the seventies, eighties, and most of the nineties, city ambulances were contracted out to The New York City Health and Hospital Corporation. Communication was poor within this system, and initially, relied on manual operators to connect emergency calls, delaying response times. The average city ambulance arrived to emergencies twenty to thirty minutes after distress calls were made. Felix Cabrera, an EMT, crew chief, and four-year member of FHVAC, said, “After FHVAC was created… [ambulance] response times dropped to three to four minutes in the Forest Hills area.”
Up until the late nineties, the Forest Hills Volunteer Ambulance Corps was the main provider of emergency medical services in Forest Hills, but in 1997, Mayor Rudy Giuliani awarded the FDNY oversight of all city ambulances. With the resources of one of the most respected organizations in the world, the city finally offered reliable emergency medical care. Cabrera said, “The fire department taking over EMS hurt us because the city could actually respond to calls rapidly.” He continued, “but when they cut us off from their radio-dispatch… That really hurt us.” Cabrera refers to the FDNY removing “vollies” from their CAD (dispatch) system in 2010, making the existence of volunteer ambulance corps, within the city, superfluous.
In the three years since the FDNY cut-off volunteer ambulances from their dispatchers, rumors have spread throughout the “volly” system about ambulance corps shutting down. One member of a volunteer ambulance corps said, “Glendale [Volunteer Ambulance Corps] has no money, and Corona [Volunteer Ambulance Corps] has legal trouble. It’s starting to look like dominos.”
Despite the dismal outlook on the future of ambulance corps in New York City, members of the FHVAC are not concerned about the future their organization. Unlike most of their sister corps, FHVAC has accepted the FDNY “isolating” themselves, and manages to stay financially viable and relevant in their community by nurturing a relationship with the local 112th Precinct.
“We’re not totally cut off here,” Joe Cannova, a volunteer dispatcher said. Forest Hills’ dispatchers and ambulance crewmembers can listen and even respond to NYPD dispatchers, something no other ambulance corps is privileged to. “The local 112th Precinct gives us their radio frequency because… we’re the local community guys. They want us at their calls.” added Cabrera, the six-year EMT.
Other FHVAC volunteers attribute the relationship between the volunteer ambulance corps and the NYPD to the identical credentials of “vollies” and FDNY EMTs. “We have the same EMT certification that those EMTs have—nothing different,” Jeremy Davis, a three-year member of FHVAC and EMT, said. It’s true all EMTs in New York State must pass the same state final, but FDNY EMTs undergo an additional three months of training at an FDNY facility. Davis claims that the NYPD doesn’t care who shows up to emergencies, as long as they have a New York State EMT certification.
Due to an influx of calls coming from the NYPD, FHVAC manages to stay busy, but still has been forced to adjust some of the ways they generate revenue. FHVAC used to only ask for donations from patients and the community. But now, the organization implements third-party billing. “We only bill patients if it won’t affect them in anyway,” said EMT Davis. “If they don’t have insurance or can’t afford it, they’ll only get a one-time call asking for a donation.”
Davis and Cabrera, like the other fifty active FHVAC members, are on several of the organization’s committees. Cabrera heads the youth outreach program, while both EMTs lend their medical expertise at community events, like the Metropolitan Avenue Fourth of July Parade and the Austin Street Fair. According to the two veteran EMTs, being active participants in community events helps maintain FHVAC’s bond with the NYPD, but the two volunteers also acknowledge personal bonds as well. Cabrera said, “They know us. That’s why they want and like having us at their calls.” Davis, his partner, added, “We see the same guys all the time. We know them and they know us.”
A.J. Liebling’s New York Block
In “Beginning With The Undertaker” Liebling describes the local hangout as the funeral parlor. This doesn’t really apply to present day New York. If someone today were to go hangout with the undertaker, they would be ridiculed. A passerby would probably snag a picture of them going inside a funeral parlor late at night, like how the policeman stopped by Liebling’s undertaker after his shift, and post it on the Internet for all to see.
As crazy as hanging out with the undertaker sounds, there is a root of today’s New York in his story–if the undertaker is viewed like “Mayor Rizzo.” I believe this to be Liebling’s intention. The idea of a communal hotspot on a New York City block is what Liebling really expresses. My Grandmother’s block in Queens had a similar hangout spot/block mayor. This was my Grandmother’s stoop, and she was the block mayor. She would sit out on her stoop with a cushion, waiting for her neighbors to stop by. Kids would say “hello,” the older couples on the block would bring chairs and sit for a while, and even the mailman would hang around for a chat.
Even as time passes and things change, Liebling’s New York block still exists.
A ‘Sweet’ New Approach to Social Media
Flappers, Hoovervilles, the New Deal, British Invasion, Nixon, “yuppies,” boy bands, and the Internet. Few people or places have been around to witness the changes, trends, and events of the past ninety years. But on the corner of 72nd Road and Metropolitan Avenue, in Forest Hills, an ice cream shop’s workers have scooped cones and topped sundaes for nearly a century.
Eddie’s Sweet Shop, established in the early 1920s, truly enjoys longevity. Few small businesses exhibit such permanency without advertising, something Eddie’s avoided—at least until recently.
“We’ve been lucky,” Vito Citrano, owner of Eddie’s Sweet Shop, said. “I really have great customers.” Citrano, the proprietor of Eddie’s for the past nine years, only recalls business being poor when his father purchased the sweet shop in 1968. Vito’s father, Joe Citrano, hammered his days away in a shoe factory and worked at Eddie’s six nights a week. The son said about his father, “He eventually made the decision to leave the factory where he made money… to work in the store where he wasn’t making any money.”
Over the course of forty-five years of Citrano-family ownership, summer nights of lonely wooden bar stools turned into nights without room to stand. Thousands, possibly millions, of customers have enjoyed lip-smacking sundaes, shakes, and old-fashioned ice cream sodas, brimming with foam. Whether it’s the taste of the homemade products or admiration for the marble counter and decorative woodwork, even on cold winter nights, patrons pack the store.
Most businesses achieving this level of success advertise their products and services, but not Eddie’s Sweet Shop. Up until 2009, the Citranos, like their store, did things the old-fashioned way. “My father and I really have relied on word-of-mouth [for advertising],” Citrano said. Contrary to his traditional business tactics, four years ago, Citrano created a Facebook page for Eddie’s Sweet Shop. The page soared to nearly nine thousand “likes.”
Other frozen yogurt and ice cream shops have ventured into social media advertising, but none of them have experienced the same level of success as Eddie’s Sweet Shop. Twist It Top It, a Queens based frozen yogurt chain, has only four hundred likes on Facebook. The infamous ice cream franchise, Carvel, has thirty-five thousand likes on Facebook but has five hundred locations and sells products in over eight thousand stores. Eddie’s has just one location, and their products are exclusive. The sweet shop’s owner commented, “I don’t care about being compared to those guys. I hope they stay in business forever and make a ton of money. I mean that sincerely.”
The primary purpose of the Eddie’s Facebook page isn’t to promote the business, rather; it exists for loyal customers. “They know about specials before we even advertise them in the store,” Citrano said. When special summer flavors, peach and blueberry, first came in this past June, the Facebook fans were the first to know. They’ll also be the first to know about pumpkin ice cream pies this fall.
Delighted by the response to his business’ Facebook page, Citrano admits having nothing to do with it. “The Eddie’s fan page is run totally by my workers.” Citrano employs a small crew of no more than ten people, most of them teenagers.
Citrano allows his young workers to run with their social media ideas. About a year ago, the workers attempted to start an Instagram account for the sweet shop, but it didn’t generate as much interest as the Facebook page. “We tried to get it off-the-ground, especially since there is a running hash tag on Instagram for the store, but it never took off,” one worker said.
One of the most successful Eddie’s Facebook-related ideas came from the store manager, Sean Donovan. As a result of a conversation with Donovan, a customer, known as “Customer Dave,” agreed to collaborate a weekly ice cream suggestion for Facebook. “Customer Dave’s Pick of the Week” posts include a picture and caption of the loyal patron’s concoction.
“An average post, like ‘Pick of the Week,’ gets seen by at least 3,000 people within a day, sometimes hours,” Donovan exclaimed. Besides acting as store manager, the twenty-five year old serves as an Eddie’s Facebook page administrator. His duties include posting messages from the owner and staying on top of customer comments. Unlike most Facebook business pages, the Eddie’s page tries to “like” all customer comments, so people know their ideas are read and appreciated.
“The page is really a way I try to give back,” Citrano said. The owner doesn’t forget what makes it all possible even after years in the business. “I have great workers… People I served as kids are now coming in with their children. That’s loyalty.” He added, “The Facebook page is a small way I can try to give back to them… I love my customers.”
Mitchell Finally Puts His Profile to Rest
Mitchell’s two profiles on Joe Gould, the Greenwich Village bohemian, intimately provide a descriptive, lengthy feature on the eccentric man. Both are, in fact, feature articles. Mitchell’s prose in both profiles brings the essence of Gould alive. In Professor Sea Gull, he writes, “Gould is as restless and footloose as an alley cat,” describing how Gould slinks around from place to place. Mitchell’s diction is fresh; not to mention, Mitchell goes on to provide extensive details about Gould’s shabby appearance. Even the quotes Mitchell choses from Gould illustrate the bohemian’s character. Mitchell records Gould bizarrely saying, “The countess and I spent three weeks studying sea gulls.” He also quoted Gould saying, “I’ll…[write] down the informal history of the shirt-sleeved multitude.” What a character!
Even if this was written today, the prose would still work. Mitchell’s attention to detail serves as a reminder to present day journalists what good writing and reporting really is. More importantly, despite Gould being a “bohemian,” Mitchell gave the man respect. Gould was a homeless man, a man begging for “donations to the Joe Gould fund.” Most people wouldn’t have given him the time of day. Mitchell describes spending lengthy hours in bars, Goody’s, and his office with Gould, hearing the same story over and over. Mitchell endured because Gould felt he was speaking of things important to the profile.
Mitchell clearly admires Joseph Gould. This particularly comes through in his second profile, Joe Gould’s Secret, which was far more personal for Mitchell than Professor Sea Gull. Just after Mitchell reveals when he learned about Gould’s secret—the Oral History of Our Time doesn’t exist—Mitchell goes down a personal path. His personal reflections regarding this revelation range from those of sadness, “I began to feel depressed. I had ben duped by Gould,” to admiration, “I suddenly felt a surge of respect… for Gould.” Mitchell compared Gould to himself, for over a year he’d been thinking about a novel but couldn’t write it. Mitchell saw Gould as, simply, a lost soul and a disappointment to his father who turned his own life into that of a supposed “illustrious historian.” This second piece puts to rest something Mitchell put much of his time and energy into. Finally, the journalist felt he did a complete, finished profile of Joseph Gould.
‘Horsing’ Around in Forest Hills
Clip-clop. Clip-clop. Clip-clop. Bails of hay sit in a wheelbarrow. A man in jeans and a black cowboy hat points to his worn, leather boots and says about a young man, “These are thirty years old! He can’t know what he wasn’t around for!”
Most people would think they stumbled upon a scene out of a John Wayne or Gene Autry film, but the sound of horseshoes can be heard at Lynn’s Riding School in Forest Hills, Queens.
For nearly a decade, Pat McLaughlin has stabled her horse at Lynn’s. Unlike most New Yorkers, McLaughlin prefers her dusty, riding school T-shirt to a night home on the couch. “Pat is always at the stable. She’s there early on the weekends and on most weekday afternoons,” said her husband, Dennis Vellucci.
Taking care of a horse requires a great deal of dedication. McLaughlin’s horse, Magic, a chestnut-colored gelding, needs to be fed five times a day. His stall needs to be cleaned once a day, and the gelding needs to be exercised and groomed daily. The stable provides some care for Magic, but much is left to his owner. While petting Magic’s handsome, white face, McLaughlin proudly said, “This is what I spend my time doing.”
Her commitment to seeing her horse owes itself, in part, to the location of Lynn’s. “Fifteen minutes [from the subway] and I’m here.” McLaughlin added, “…much to my horse’s horror. He’s probably thinking, ‘Oh no! She’s back!’”
McLaughlin grew up in rural, northern Westchester County, riding horses all her life. She currently lives in Kew Gardens Hills, Queens, and teaches at Cathedral High School in Manhattan. After experiencing both city and country life, she prefers stabling her horse in Forest Hills, in the city. The watchful owner said, “Magic gets such good care here… Out in the fields, horses get into trouble… they can get a cut or bruise when left to there own devices.” More importantly, stabling her horse in the country, or out East, would put distance between her and her buddy. “I could stable my horse in Long Island. I have friends that do… but then it would only be weekend riding.”
Magic’s main form of exercise comes with McLaughlin on his back and provides important bonding time for the horse and his owner. “My nervous system talks to his nervous system… we experience things together,” McLaughlin said. Forest Park, one of the largest parks in Queens, located down the road from Lynn’s Riding School, serves as their playground and sanctuary. “When riding down a trail, there is a connection with the animal. When we’re in the park, just moseying, it’s that ‘ah,’ that relax we both feel.”
Sometimes outside conditions don’t allow the duo to hit the trails; but luckily, Lynn’s Riding School comes equipped with a riding ring adjacent to the stables, outfitted with bleachers, a hayloft, and an observation room. “The riding ring is a great feature [we have],” McLaughlin commented. “Most bigger barns that have the space, don’t have the ring right next to the stable. The two can kick up dust inside the ring whenever they want, but the equestrian owner slyly added, “…Magic and I prefer the park.”
For McLaughlin, one of her best moments with Magic came on the trails of Forest Park. She went out riding with her friend, Shelly, when a few policeman training soon-to-be police horses approached them. “They asked if they could ride with us!” McLaughlin exclaimed. For a while, the foursome, along with their horses, enjoyed the gravel trails of a New York City park.
The park, the stable, long weekend meanders, and even McLaughlin, weren’t always a reality for Magic. The first seven years of his life was spent on a ranch in Missouri. Like many ranch horses, Magic got put to auction at the end of the ranching season. These auctions tend to attract buyers from all over the country, even from New York City. With the help of Lynn’s Riding School (and some not so subtle hints), McLaughlin’s husband bought her Magic as a 25th Wedding Anniversary present. McLaughlin laughed and pointed out, “Now, Magic is a big city horse… with a busy retirement!”
Magic impatiently stomped his hooves, letting his owner know it was time to stop talking and get moving. “He’s devious,” McLaughlin said. “Sometimes he can be a real pain… but he is my child, my one thousand pound child.”
Magic, the chestnut gelding with a handsome, white face.
Fink Chooses Sides But Acknowledges Issues
Sheri Fink’s “The Deadly Choices at Memorial” depicts the fallout from Hurricane Katrina at Memorial Medical Center in Uptown New Orleans. Due to isolation, limited resources, and insufficient preparation for disaster on the government’s part, the hospital was forced to triage their patients, sorting them according to their medical conditions. The healthiest patients were given priority evacuation status, while the sickest patients were left at the bottom of the list. Fink’s narrative of the events during this catastrophe, explained in chronological order, sometimes abandoning chronology for topical arrangement, illustrate what may have led to some patients allegedly being euthanized by nurses and doctors. The piece focuses on Dr. Ann Pou’s involvement in the alleged acts, her indictment, and the discussion about triage medicine.
Though a very fair, well reported article, readers can determine Fink opposes Dr. Pou’s actions. Before exploring Dr. Pou’s involvement at Memorial Medical Center after Hurricane Katrina, Fink quotes Dr. Ewing Cook, who explained why he “hastened the demise” of a patient. “I gave her medicine so I could get rid of her faster… get the nurses off the floor.” Dr. Cook acknowledges consulting with Dr. Pou regarding prescriptions that would “hasten” the death of patients. Placing this, rather blunt, explanation of the situation before Dr. Pou’s side of the story (though much is expressed through her lawyers), makes the doctor’s actions look questionable. Not to mention, Fink spends a lot of time (deservedly) reporting why Emmett Everett, a nearly four hundred pound quadriplegic, “was given something for his dizziness” by Dr. Pou and ended up passing away shortly after.
Still, Fink doesn’t depict the doctor as an evil mastermind, but as a medical professional struggling under extreme conditions and little rest to provide care to patients and evacuate a hospital. At one point, Fink illustrates Dr. Pou sitting on a bench, exhausted with “less than an hour’s sleep.”
Most importantly, Fink acknowledges that it will never be known what Dr. Pou actually did or why, and that the arguments the doctor makes regarding emergency situation (triage) protocol are worth looking at. Fink writes, “This is particularly important as health officials are now weighing, with little public discussion and insufficient scientific evidence, protocols for making the kind of agonizing decisions that will, no doubt, arise again.”
All things considered, Fink sympathizes with Dr. Pou’s predicament but believes the doctor went too far. But the writer can only report the information, much of which as Fink indicates, we will never know. Her beliefs are merely speculatory, and she does a good job masking them.