A Nieuw Yorke Sojourn {In Six Parts} Part, The Third: 'BATTLE ROYALE'

"I just hate to fight anybody. When you win, you lose...You know- in your heart." ~ Roslyn Taber,From 'The Misfits' by Arthur Miller circa 1961.


{Realizing at once that he is being watched, Looks up from writing desk.}

'Twas getting a mite crowded in that Lichyard.Thought I would retire to my chambers for some rest, alas, 'twas folly. The muse got me and I just had to light the writing Lantern...

Where was I...

...And the hidden freak of Lady Nieuw Amstredamm, our Ghostly City of Eternal Trade, Pride of Herstory continues to dwindle in the ruthless shadow of recession-proof, high falutin' N'Yorke, The Usurper. The latter seems to burn both ends of what must be a very long candle. It burns brighter than Lady Liberty's Torch or even brighter than this grand votive by the scroll on which I write. The city has started to discover the common sense of living comfortably. It is as though the sad and dangerous-fairy-tale-crime-ridden-enclave-extraordinaire of the 1970's, the 1770's and the early to mid 17th Century never ever happened.

There is a particularly strange and bloody grudge match coming to the fore now.This terrific war is as much a part of the very bedrock of this Megalopolis on the Hudson as the Empire State Building or the great {and perpetually fixtured} rivalries like UPTOWN vs. DOWNTOWN, The YANKEES vs. The METS, PIZZA vs. FALAFEL, REAL vs. GENTRIFIED, The MARTINI vs. THE MANHATTAN, MANAHATTA vs. BREUKLYN {by the way- 'tis Breukyn who won and it is not within Manahatta's fragile ego to admit this.} and of course that most storied of rivalries-Upper class {who only ever get bedbugs}, vs. Middle Class {plus roaches}, vs. The Wretched {You got RATS Motherfucker.} . To live in N'Yorke is to see that there are two sides to everything... AND THEN ONE MUST PICK A SIDE. Sure there are countless battles nay campaigns-civil wars-hell, World Wars being fought here EVERYDAE so, you ask, on which particular BATTLE ROYALE is it I focus?


Why... The ONE for to POSSESS the SOUL of the LADY N'YORKE Of course!

For just as the POETS and the MOGULS jockey for real estate there these days- so too do the GHOSTIES of yore vie for recognizable admission in the Lady's sprawling Herstory books. To walk a street, turn a corner or climb a stairwell is to encounter thousands of them such Ghosties who have done just that well before ye.

Well...YE have come for a SHOW. I aim to GIVE you one.

Within in the flame of this olde lantern you shall find vast swathes of towns of N'Yorke Ghosties. To merely sit beside it and write invokes a flicker from anyone of them. Every FLICKER is a SOUL. And every soul has a glorious war story. Different Ghosties visit me every night.

That is the thing about leaving the Lady. She... Never returned the favor.

I am haunted by her contours. Those still-used wondrous, maze-like cascading floor plans, fitting people into every nook and cranny ebbing and flowing to facilitate and re-assimilate the downtown masses of today. Allowing them to expand in every wonderful human direction not unlike THE DEAD RABBITS of yore. Witness the perfection! The sculpted shadows as they evaporate from the dawn- indeed there is nothing like the early morning by the cold Hudson waters as the golden light creeps forth. There is a universal warmth that links the N'Yorker to their DUTCH ANCESTRI and the Dutch to their INJUN ANCESTRI for this is the same light that touched on their Nieuw Amstredamm -golden hair and before them- the raven haired- NANTICOKE LENNI-LENAPE of Manahatta and the CANARSIE NATIONS of Rockaway. This Morning light is followed sharply by a day that at the very least, will challenge your smugness once again with a splendid array of idiosyncratic ambushes which only yesterday was thought impossible from the utterly mundane. There is only one way I dealt with such an upstart: I GROUND THEM UNDER FOOT! Ah but that has already been done too. By whom, you ask?

{There is a tuft of smoke from the lantern. The Author's hand writes furiously...}

Peter "Pitrus" Stuyvesant has possessed my writing hand, Puritanical, Giullianiesque- the outward picture of Peg-Leg tyranny and maybe inwardly-of a closet tranny-- PITRUS:  I'll WRITE THINGS NOW THANKYE MR.NARRATOR--tough on crime I was- bringing this rebellious, floundering merchant Nieuw Netherland city back from the muck and the brink. THE DUTCH INDIA TRADING COMPANY has paid me tip- top Gilder for my remedies as per mine exploits in the Caribbean. Said remedy is... Ruthlessness! I shall govern ye like children. This Towne FEARETH me. But I command respect. And when she finally wears me down I shall Marshall my hand- ringside for that feeble tag team slap across time and space to the Utilitarian  Robert Mo-- wha--! {In his excitement, Pitrus' wooden leg zips sideways acrossed the floor boards , sending him immediately to an impromptu meeting with the footlights.} AAAAAAAAAAAGH! Excuse me- I must tend to this leg. It got away from me...again.

Pitrus Stuyvesant: {bellows}- this is a house of Christ and Capitol!{exuant}

{The Author wrests hand free from Pitrus' Ghosty.}

I am getting ahead of myself! Anyway... You see? Why be hard on yourself or on our fair city? Especially when Pitrus over there already did that centuries ago. And look where it got him. Christ and Capitol indeed. Humph! He was half right- I'll concede him that.

Athwart from Nieuw Amstredamm is N'Yorke, whose vast GRID PLAN is a monument to simplification and it's symmetry packs a wallop to the mind. You see I came to know these Ghosties as... MINE OWN MISSING PARTS. After all I went there to become a part of something big and secular and to be alone yet... not alone. And I learned from the spirits who crystalized in the ethers of time. I find that when I was willing to see them- they completed one another. e.g. There is only so much of the day which the Ghosty of Peter Stuyvesant can control before one is forced to give his/ herself up to EXPANSIVE THINKINGS and then the confines of ONE's OWN TYRANNY utterly VAPORIZE. These vapors give way to a man so tall- he just might have been the first N'Yorke Skyscraper. A man whose booming voice was not to be trifled with:

{There is a spark leaps from forth the Lantern...}


This is a Man who made his political birth in N'Yorke almost two centuries after Pitrus:

{DEWITT CLINTON steps forward. Grasps toward the Author's writing arm and as Clinton writes in the air, the Author's arm mimics in ghostly dictation.}

CLINTON: Hallo! I am that Man who prophesied N'Yorke's expanse and did not try to beat it back with fire and brimstone but instead I pushed forth THE GRID. A stunningly simple city plan. Behold! Everything stretching north of THE FIVE POINTS owes allegiance to it and thus there is synergistic day to day commercial GLORY. WITH THIS GREAT BLADE OF ALBANY, I cleaved this isle into a commercial pie! Hundreds of teaming streets with TWELVE AVENUES in seemingly INFINITE and PERFECT NINETY- DEGREE ANGLES. Because of this magnificent floor plan, the sun may rise in the EAST... And his glorious beams of light may shine straight through the great streets and be enjoyed by the Lower West Side, The West Village, The West Side and the Upper West Side. Imagine such a complex and confusing city if it had an equally chaotic floor plan! Or suburbified to LARGE, ABSTRACT, GATED spaces. What would it be like? I'LL TELL YE- why just look at those horrible soulless GRIDLESS places like STUYVESANT TOWN. POX ON IT, I SAY!! It IS FACELESS! A Monolithic SUPER BLOCK of bricks and park and you have to walk on and on to get to the nearest storefront. BLAST! It sickens me. Gating people away from one another til they are more likely to CAVORT with SQUIRRELS THAN ONE ANOTHER! Why if I ever meet the Ghosty of Robert Mo--

{Author holds writing arm fast with less dominant hand}

Desist! Governor Clinton! I cannot have ye invoking him!

CLINTON: Oh! em...Sorry Mr.Author.{takes a moment}

Thankye Governor Clint--

{Clinton's Ghosty is not finished}

CLINTON: Yes we should change the subject then! THE ERIE CANAL! Indeed it took me more than my TEN TERMS AS MAYOR of N'Yorke- more than my four years and six months as N'Yorke Governor to get it completed. LET'S TALK ABOUT IT THEN! I was called many things as I stayed the course. Mainly by those dastardly BASTICHES in Tammany and those Bucktails were noooooo better. But when it was done, the Lady saw what I had given her. Why I practically made ANOTHER HARBOR on the other side of the original Colonies. Think on it Ladies and Gentlemen as something that UNITES your personal DISPARATE FACTIONS with GRACE. Just as the CANAL'S trade route did for the West, N'Yorke and Europe. HEAR! HEAR! If ye have vision for this day- May the the Lady be praised. To live in N'Yorke is to see that there are two sides to everything. And then one must pick a side. Aye if ye possess a glass of LIKKOR, raise it for ME, the RAVENOUS VISION of the Sixth Governor of N'Yorke State! For I am the soul of your RAVENOUS PROGRESS!

{exuant Governor Clinton}

*Whew!* But low and behold-EXPANSION has a DARKNESS. It has an insatiable hunger. And that poor family of Governor Clinton. They had not even enough coin to pay for his burial. This man who foresaw the destiny of N'Yorke's commerce on par with Alexander Hamilton- died a PENNILESS pauper.

Ye see what I did there? I just gave ye the N'Yorke cautionary tale for the day.

BE WARNED MY FRIENDS: The Lady N'Yorke pusheth ye beyond your limits: no matter what glories ye find- she doesn't care one lick for what happens to ye. Tomorra is another day for everyone else. Today they are eating crow while later, YOU shall eat their dust. "Forward!" is the call of progress. Forward is the cry of countless British warships filling up the Nieuw Netherland Harbor much to your dismay, Mr.Stuyvesant.

PITRUS: {returning}What is the meaning of this?{growls his disgust}The thought of a Nieuw Amstredamm ruled by King Charles?! Ready my cannons and sharpen the steel.

{Author tries to wrastle the evening back from Pitrus.}

We already introduced ye- you are OUT sir!

PITRUS: I am a Ghosty, Sir! I am COME!

Fine! But Ye must hold the line Mr.Stuyvesent. Lest ye lose the battle for the Lady's Soul here and now. And be quick! {under breath}lest Clinton decides to return.

PITRUS: tis only fair since my time of triumph was but short-lived atleast let me revisit it. I shan't be long. *ahem!* There be a nieuw breed of WARFARE. Tis a sick twist of fate.


I remember the knock at the door to my quarters. 'Twas OPPORTUNITY! Actually tis the CONSOLATE OF MERCHANTS. And they had gone MAD. Don't believe me? Listen to these blasphemous worms' incredulous suggestions:


I could not believe they were any less than...LIES! I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the cunning Jew or the TURN COAT BRITAIN to reveal that this was all some cruel and ill-timed Jape. But no. They were SERIOUS! Well... Where is the HONOR? What is the meaning of this?! MERCHANTS are supposed to be PATRIOTS ... Aren't they? Clearly they didn't drink their Sapphire Martini's at supper. There are TWO SIDES TO EVERYTHING! And what did they pick? Can ye believe we SURRENDERED- in the name of 'UNINTERRUPTED COMMERCE' and without a blasted fight?! {muttering} Who do they think they are- Taking the city non- violently. PSHAW! THEY ONLY DID THAT BECAUSE WE LET'EM! I must tend to my leg.

{exuant Pitrus, Grumbling}

So It has happened, Pitrus. Here you came in to a Towne SICK with DRUNKS. Your charge was to protect them from themselves. To be TOUGH on CRIME and restore safety and civility so that COMMERCE may blossom. Ye made them go to church on Sunday and outlawed public duels. And no sooner do ye succeed Mr.Stuyvesant- then the Britains descend to utterly GENTRIFY the place. Aaaaah gentrification has its funny rewards doesn't it? You just attracted the IMPERIAL EYE. And how does this city repay you? With a demonstration. Brutal truth: thanks for your contribution Mr.Stuyvesant. Goodbye. Her soul is not yours. And it's not because you picked the wrong side for to pick a side is to choose the right side. Be gone Pitrus.

Patriotism is a funny thing here... In the MELTING POT. So is being a MEANIE.

{The Ghosty of LOU REED steps forth from Lantern, with his Patented Black Shades, Studded Black Jacket and acoustic Guitar, Begins to strum, "O, PITRUS".}

O, PITRUS- YOU MEANIE, Here you came waking up With you're usual morning routine: YOGA! CARDIO! BREW SOME TEA! BREAK YOUR FAST WITH WARFRES! {THAT'S WAFFLES} BEFORE THE PONY EXPRESS. POLISHIN' THAT WOODEN LEG. Alas things aren't going as planned. But that's Yoga with a wooden leg for you. You sir have just lost the contract to the firm across the street. And after all the long nights you pulled Mr.Stuyvescant. Sorry but this is N'YORKE'S world...you just played Bad Cop in it. Well there shall be no time to cook that Warfres {Waffle} today- No matter Mr.General Minister for I hear They're doing some lovely things with potatoes at Dunkin' Donuts. BIKRAM! PEG-LEG KARATTAY! BREW SOME OO-LONG! BREAK YOUR FAST! WITH WARFRES! {THAT'S WAFFLES} BACK IN THE DAYS OF AOL. POLISHIN' THAT WOODEN LEG. And so Mr.Stuyvescant, it's back to the drawer's board for you. You are fated to retire, a GROUCH to your vast acreage of farmland north Of your fair Nieuw Amstredamm, which would later be called, "Green-Witch Village"or something like that. Yes no one will bother you there... {Seriously though- try the Tater Tots. They will make your troubles go away.} CHI-GONG! CANNON-BALL SHUFFLE! CAPPUCCINOS A LA SEATTLE MERMAIDS! BREAK YOUR FAST! WITH WARFRES! {THAT'S WAFFLES} BACK IN THE DAYS OF AOL. POLISHIN' THAT WOODEN LEG.And as you play out the rest of your years , watching the great city of MAD MERCHANTS unfold: it occurs to you: this didn't become an asylum run by the lunatics that day you were out-voted into peaceful surrender in the name of uninterrupted trade- it was run by the crazies BEFORE that AS WELL! And... O, PITRUS- You, You, Ye, You, Ye, You, Yeeeeeeeeeeou... The last General Minister who told them all "I shall govern you As a Father would his children." Were just as cracked as the rest of'em! Ha! Ha! HA! HA! HA!

Well these three GHOSTIES, made a real go of it; but though their successes shined varying degrees of light on her soul they did not find her. But they were among the great many firsts to understand her albeit through their failures. Is this lady to be dealt with by the iron fist or the brute force of Capitolistic agenda? Fie! That is no way to treat a Lady.

Boys, BOYS, BOYS- if ye be confused by the ways of Woman Logic-the best ways to a ... Talk to your lady friends.

{Tips hat to a lady in the Audience.}

What is your moniker, Miss? Lady Audience Member: 'Emma' Nice to meet you, Emma. Emma: And you... What would you say to these men if they asked you for a clue to her soul? Emma: Hmmmm... Well if we're talking about her SOUL? Then... It's simple- actually it is staring us all in the face- Just the other century, I actually jotted something down {in Bronze}. And this might be the perfect time for me to indulge you all : *a-a-HEM!*

The Nieuw Colossus

"Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. "Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!". ~-{Emma Lazarus}-~

{Thundrous Applause! Lantern Glows with the warmth of a Spectacular Dawn!}

By George! You see? There is only one way to understand a woman! Ask another woman! She has the right of it indeed. Thankye Emma! And still we wage this war. Because it is the war for THE GOLDEN DOOR! The war everyone wants a piece of. The war to make a buck! The dollar you were born to earn. Or the Poem you were born to write. These are the gifts she desires. Who gives them to her doesn't matter. Just show her your love. Give her your passion, sweat and tears, Money and Poetry!

Hmmm... puts me in mind of another Ghosty. A most excellent example of a passionate offspring of humble immigrants. That would be Al Smith. Yes you've heard the simple name. A perfect name for a man who simply lived a life of doing what had to be done. He was the son of the bastardized Irish. His father was a teamster but like so many of his peers his health proved to be an unforeseen killer and he died penniless. Unfortunately for the Smith family theirs was a time predating welfare. If Al's mum were to have told the city she had no money- well they'd have taken her kids away and put them in foster care. and--

{There is a tiny firecracker that shoots up from the Lantern. The Ghosty of Al Smith slowly descends to the stage. The Author and Al Smith's Ghosty approach each other and greet one another with some kind of familiar handshake. The audience is charmed by his raspy N'Yorke accent.}

Author: My goodness! Al! It is always a pleasure to see you! Give us a go-round. Take the floor- why I was just telling our audience about  your first defining moments... SMITH: Really? Well when was that pray tell? Author: Around about the age o' thirteen. SMITH: Oh- when my proud Fatha' passed- God rest his soul. Oh that was hard and my poor Mother- she was beside herself... and I put my lovin' hand on her shoulder and told her- "Oy'll take care of us Mom'". {laughs} I don't know what came over me but I went royt to werk in'a Fish Market. And that was that. And as I got olda' and well on my wae to a bachelors in 'FFM'... {aside} That's 'Fulton Fish Market'. {The audience roars with laughter} I got to know the workers and neighbors better in the public houses. And lemme tell you's! There is something to be said about commutin' folks! Its'a lifeblood  N'Yorke. For wouldn' ya know it- some o' those boys was upstandin' barons and politicians from TAMMANY HALL! Sure sure say whatcha will about the place but the truth of it is- NObody else was lookin' out for the little guy like they was. Sure they was corrupt to boot but they was also the only game in town back then. Tammany was the line which the almighty cast out to me and by god I took it! I grabbed hold with both o' these hands and I held on all the way to a seat in ALBANY! That's a success story right there! {Cheers from the crowd}


But when I got there- I was nieuw- and worse- I WAS IRISH! {Scattered laughter} Oh someone else is too! So anyway-nobody talked to me. Plus I never read a confounded BOOK befoa! Talk about comin' from Nothin'.  {laughter} But you know what? I started readin' real fast. I familiarized myself with every bill that came my way and little by little- all these puffy Albany types was comin' to ME with questions. I was like a walkin' copy o' CLIFF NOTES for CHRISSAKES! {more laughter!} 'Eh why don'tcha ask Al Smith about that!' and 'Al Smith'll save ya TIME!' Soon it was ME- givin' speeches on the floor! I was elected speaker all the time and I presided over the entire STATE as her GOVENOR-FOUR TIMES {APPLAUSE and THUNDER!} I tell you I loved this town BEFORE but it was FINALLY gettin' to be GOOD livin' there for a LOTTA people! I put Prahgress in the Puhgressive movement. I could go on and on- the point is- I GAVE THIS BEAUTIFUL RESTLESS WOMAN OF A TOWNE MY BLOOD SWEAT, TEARS AND PASSION. I Picked a side alright.  I LOVED HER. And you know what they call my glorious reign as her four time Gubernatorial Champ? "THE ROARIN' TWENNIES". Yeah that's how good it was! And it never EVER got better than that! There was only one place to go but up: I threw my hat in for the Presidency. Unfortunately I was defeated. Not only that I was utterly destroyed in the public eye of the Country.

{PONDERS, Then...}

You know, I was talking' to my friend, Al Hamilton the other day {yeah we're friends } about that very event. I never quite got over it. It was like everybody HATED me. I didn't get it. I mean-Intellectually I do- they were scared a' change. But in my heart I don't get why they were so… scared of ME. I didn't need to WIN but I didn't have ta lose so badly and insight such vitriol from the rest of the country. I mean hell! Nobody fought for the unfortunate like I did. When that Triangle Fire killed those Hundred and fawty-six girls I followed the obscenely-greedy-falutin'-fatcat-Garment-Industry-bastards-rascals to the ends of the Earth. I showed 'em the meaning of tenacity with a FOUR year investigation. And when the dust cleared- N'Yorke was leading the charge of ethical working conditions. Hey we wrote SIXTY bills and FIFTY-SIX PASSED. ...and once again America followed us. That's where the Nieuw Deal BEGAN. And the Unions was born shortly after! It was things like that made the SMART MONEY on Liberal politics. So I logically threw my bowler into the Presidential ring. But where I thought a national cheer was imminent- there was only a JEER. Well whatever I did wrong as a candidate- FDR was watching in the wings and figured out how to 'correctly' pedal it to my 'funny' fellow Americans.

Anyways Hamilton was a bit dismissive of the whole affair. Then again he wasn't interested in hearin' about pleasing the hoi palloi like me. He was a bit more of an Aristocrat I guess. He mainly cared about commerce more than people. But he said :

"Smithey! N'Yorke has important work to do. It has always been the CITY OF TOMORROW. It's inhabitants, who rise through the ranks are the greatest visionaries of this country. For they are preempting economic problems at least ten years before they descend upon other cities the WORLD over. You belong to THEIR ranks not the ranks of the faceless masses. What care I for the views of the PROVINCES! Just be proud of the 'Twenties and all that led up to them.

Yeah he basically said,'who needs 'em!

Twas a glorious time for commerce. And don't forget-- ye CONQUERED THE SKY, AL!'"

Oh yeah... He is referring to the end of my Political career. And the beginnin' I guess of my legend. The end of the Roarin' Twennies. The crash of '29. Did I mention I lost the Presidency? ...Aaaand FDR usurped my governorship. I had nothin'. Then my friend told me, he was gonna build the Tallest Buildin' in the world and I was gonna be chairman of the construction committee. Well that's what happened. See it was a frenzied war to be the highest tower in the sky back then. I mean it was NUTS! Sure we built Empire State faster than any one ever built anything and sure it took about forty years to start making money back but ITS THE CITY'S FAVOURITE BUILDIN' TO THIS DAY! BECAUSE IT REMINDS FOLKS ABOUT THE HEY DAY A N'YORKE! Wall Street Boomed and Jazz was Hoppin! And we got this gorgeous spired dream of a salute to it- TALLer than DEWITT CLINTON himself at Tree-Fifty, Fi'th Avenue! So...yeah Lex, thanks for remindin' me about that one!

Author: And under you, Govenor-Al Smith-she achieved a HEYDAY of SHIMMERING MUSIC, ARTE and COIN like none other with the ROARIN' TWENNIES.

But her party was over by '29.

Her beloved Mayor and four-time Governor and Favorite son AL SMITH was denied Presidency. And in that crushingly Un-close loss, the Lady learned something we all know now very well: Though N'Yorke is America's greatest teacher. The rest of 'Merica is an embittered country prude who despises Her. But she took care of her favourite son- for out of no where- an olde friend of his bestowed upon poor Al who suddenly found himself without a political office of any kind- with a final sugar coat to his legend: overseeing the building commitee of the world's tallest building. So when next ye gaze upon the soaring Empire State Building- and a fond smile passes across your lips- know that the gregarious and generous boy from the Fulton Fish Market his smilin' right back at ye...

Ah but The Lady danceth on with profound inner reserves and in black! In dark times there is Great Depression. And in these Dark Days she proves her mettle time and again- that she is worthy of whatever decadence she is accused of. Is there nothing so terrible as the crash of '29 with it's breadlines stretching across the city like the tentacles of a great ascending squid. And in the ominous shadow cast about her skyline, N'Yorke and her sister Amstredamm for once, worked together, THEIR battle put on hiatus. They listened and heard our despair. And as each GIANT mother lowered their ears to their beleaguered citizens of a Great Depression, the sister's soft hair touches a little man. A man who at last understood what both ladies needed.

"Take care of my children. You understand them- for you are one of them."


{There is a small flash.Enter Fiorello LaGuardia.The 99th Mayor of N'Yorke. }

LaGuardia:  *ahem!* They call me 'the Little Flower' -uh that's English for 'LaGuardia' . Judge Seabury called me 'the MAJOR'. But bein' five feet tall guess which name stuck.  I didn't let it get me down though- I was wearin' a nice suit like a good REPUBLICAN but in my heart, my sleeves was rolled up. I WAS THE LITTLE GUY WHO LOVED N'YORKE ANYWAY. I cut a bi-partisan example for the AGES. I Fiorello LaGuardia, a conservative- was appointed Mayor by a Judge who was appointed by a Liberal President. I reached across the preverbal aisle as much as I upheld staunch beliefs. I'ma the Mayor who turned Depression-era N'Yorke around because I worked with FDR. SOMETHING UNHEARD OF TODAY by a so called CONGRESS a' PATRIOTS. This round little five-footer Italiano wasa the minority Mayor LOVED AND CHERISHED BYA THE MINORITIES. I appeared at Mob busts and they was nothin' I liked more than breakin' down those doors myself anda puttin' awaya those sorry excuses for Italianos and Irish in the BRIG! To take away the Pinstripes and give'em the Thick Stripes if you know what I mean. I cracked down on illegal gambling, the extortion of prostitutes and gleefully destroyed slot-machines for the black and white cameras- ROLL THAT CAMERA! This Mayor knew that the city needed a hero- and more importantly-THIS HERO'S EXPLOITS MUST BE ONSCREEN! And her benevolent soul finally shone upon all her colorful children. The city became closer than eva before. Her soul was a wonder. For twelve years I restored prosperity, bringing this city back from the breadlines and the brink. Because I cared about the People! Unlike somebody else--

{Lantern's glow changes almost to a greenish in hue.} Zounds! Well LaGuardia Thanks to you, that  is now THREE times he has been mentioned and I doubt very much  that there will be ANY avoiding him now-we have been fortunate in the time allotted us but 'tis nigh his hour apparently. More's the pity...

LaGuardia: Huh. That was my one mistake wasn't it. Thinking I could control him. I COULD- I DID- it's just that no one else could and twelve years as Mayor only bought the city so much time...*sigh* {exuant LaGuardia.}

The Little Flower understood the Lady better than any other politician did or has since {save Al Smith}. This became that rare time when the City Hall cared for its populous. UNFORTUNATELY SHE COULDN'T HELP HERSELF and...

ALAS, SHE SOON SHACKED UP WITH THE WRONG SUITER. And to make matters worse, unbeknownst to The Little Flower, he was also a pawn in erecting the GREATEST SELF-CONTAINING PRISON ever dreamed up by the human race. He was about to be had by one of the world's biggest SUPER BUILDERS and SUPER VILLIANS. A man so cunning, he would usurp N'Yorke and KEEP HER under lock and key for the next fifty years...

{Lantern Is glowing a greenish Now.}

And thirty years after that, I set foot on the after-mathematics of all this. And I became Pitrus. And I was Dewitt Clinton, I was Whitman, I was Emma Lazarus, I was LaGuardia I was Hamiltonian and I fell in love with the battered body of this complex woman. And she never forgave me for it...


We are half-way to SUMMIT. Join me in a few weeks!...

~Part, The Fourth: 'THE GILDED CAGE'~