It's only ten days in. Ten. I feel like a convoy of trucks have repeatedly hit me on a Texas highway. Reopening day was nearly total chaos, thankfully I have a great crew and we were able to persevere through all the madness. And as each successive day came by, we got a little better at handling the chaos as it got more and more chaotic. Although I continued to stress the new coronavirus protocols, we service industry people are finding it harder and harder to force our guests to follow them. It's a mix of the indestructibility of youth, the politicisation of mask wearing, and alcohol that makes our jobs that much more difficult. And now we are approaching another expansion of the social distancing rules, I can't see this getting any easier.
And I fear another shut down, since the virus numbers are beginning to rise throughout the country again. That 'second wave' might be happening long before the fall sets in. We have a long way to go. Hopefully a vaccine will be found sooner rather than later.
Jumping right into the summer season did not help at all!
And it's been hard for me to get back into the swing of things. With all the added problems/conditions at the bar, the coronavirus protocols, the dinner and breakfast service, having to fill in on all the missing shifts I can't seem to staff, we are getting back to our weekly meetings and routines. The workload has been tremendous and I've been working twelve hour days all this time.
And then there's the problem of finding help. Thankfully all of my staff came back but with the new dinner service, we need a lot more help. I've been interviewing but finding people that can pass a drug test, have adequate experience, are willing to stop collecting their unemployment, and actually show up for interviews has been seriously difficult. And I'm uneasy about hiring people I know, that almost always turns into an issue.
Time to suit up and get back into the fray.
24 June 2020
13 June 2020
Countdown
The week is nearly done and re-opening day is coming up fast. It's been a lot of work, organising, cleaning, ordering, scheduling, changing protocols, there's so much to do to get the bar open again after three months of a stay-at-home pandemic shutdown. And the coronavirus protocols haven't made it any easier, they are needed and we are confident to reopen safely but the extra steps will take some getting used to. And there's the problem with other humans, we are an unpredictable lot and making sure our guests follow the new rules will be a test of our service industry skills, especially with the country so divided over what's safe. In our social media world, going viral during a pandemic for the wrong reasons is an insidious irony and I want to make sure we get this right. Not to mention the local and state agencies breathing down our necks with inspections and visits. I'm confident. But I've worked here long enough to know that we plan, the Claridge laughs. She's a beautiful building but she has a mind of her own. Ninety years of standing tall gives her that privilege and the unpredictable happens there on nearly a daily basis.
I'm confident.
Looking ahead, though, I doubt I'll be getting a day off or much sleep for at least the next week. It's so important to make this a success, I'll have to be there around the clock to make sure everything is done right.
On a personal note, two of my friends have had serious health scares within a week of each other and I feel so terrible that I can't drop everything and help them through it. They have significant others in their lives so I know they are being well cared for but I feel like I'm a rotten friend because my life is so consumed with work.
Although I want to write more, I have so many things to do before work I have to end this here. Changing out my seasonal wardrobes, getting some exercise in, getting ready, and then it's off to work all day.
I'm confident.
Looking ahead, though, I doubt I'll be getting a day off or much sleep for at least the next week. It's so important to make this a success, I'll have to be there around the clock to make sure everything is done right.
On a personal note, two of my friends have had serious health scares within a week of each other and I feel so terrible that I can't drop everything and help them through it. They have significant others in their lives so I know they are being well cared for but I feel like I'm a rotten friend because my life is so consumed with work.
Although I want to write more, I have so many things to do before work I have to end this here. Changing out my seasonal wardrobes, getting some exercise in, getting ready, and then it's off to work all day.
04 June 2020
Back In Business (Soon)
I had my third manager's meeting at the Claridge on Wednesday. After weeks of speculation and waiting, we finally got the go ahead to reopen the VÜE Rooftop Lounge, albeit in a slightly altered state. Since the governor's executive order prohibits us for now from allowing guests in the bar itself, or in the Twenties Bistro down on the sixth floor, we are going to combine them and have dining on the rooftop decks, weather permitting. It will be a challenge, since our bar kitchen is rather small so we'll have to utilise the kitchen in the Twenties for the dinners, and there are issues of staffing and logistics to overcome but I'm confident with the help of our executive chef Craig Johnson, and my friend Lance LaBarre, who's also our banquet manager, we'll be able to get it all sorted out before reopening day. We have a good week to get it all together, which is no time at all but plenty of time for service industry folk, I've personally created magical events with far less time and little preparation. I have confidence that with a lot of espresso and a few nips of vodka here and there, we'll pull it all together by the fifteenth of June.
It's not going to be easy, though. The pandemic is still raging, the George Floyd protests are still raging, now globally, the rioting and looting hasn't totally stopped, people are still out of work, people are still scared of getting sick, no one is traveling, the health protocols are going to be a necessary issue, we are now in June, losing three months of momentum going into the summer season, none of this is going to work in our favour. My strategy is to going to be to try to walk that fine line between shameless promotion and just under the radar, if there is such a place. Although I am very politically motivated, when it comes to the livelihood of my staff and the experience of my guests, I don't want to turn the reopening into a political statement to be used by various factions, it seems everything nowadays gets polarised and divisive. Here's hoping for the best possible outcome.
I'll say this, it will be nice to have purpose again. I've felt unmoored these last few months, as all of us have, and I'm itching to replace the tedium of these seemingly endless repetitive days with the tedium of putting out little service industry fires every five minutes, throwing in a Karen here and there for shits and giggles.
Looks like I won't have a day off for a few weeks, I better enjoy these last days of 'freedom'.
It's not going to be easy, though. The pandemic is still raging, the George Floyd protests are still raging, now globally, the rioting and looting hasn't totally stopped, people are still out of work, people are still scared of getting sick, no one is traveling, the health protocols are going to be a necessary issue, we are now in June, losing three months of momentum going into the summer season, none of this is going to work in our favour. My strategy is to going to be to try to walk that fine line between shameless promotion and just under the radar, if there is such a place. Although I am very politically motivated, when it comes to the livelihood of my staff and the experience of my guests, I don't want to turn the reopening into a political statement to be used by various factions, it seems everything nowadays gets polarised and divisive. Here's hoping for the best possible outcome.
I'll say this, it will be nice to have purpose again. I've felt unmoored these last few months, as all of us have, and I'm itching to replace the tedium of these seemingly endless repetitive days with the tedium of putting out little service industry fires every five minutes, throwing in a Karen here and there for shits and giggles.
Looks like I won't have a day off for a few weeks, I better enjoy these last days of 'freedom'.
03 June 2020
The First Day Of June
I had slept hard and deep. The emotions of the day before had exhausted me to my core and at the moment I fell asleep, I slipped in to a deep unconscious state. When I awoke, I was quickly reminded of the events from the day before, everything came flooding back and my sense of defeat was palpable. It didn't help that before turning in, I watched the mayor of Atlantic City on a Facebook live feed berating the residents of the city for the looting that happened. Not directly, but he wanted to know why they didn't stop it. It was a speech born of our collective frustration but I had wanted to hear something more concrete, more hopeful, more leadership. Instead, my only thought was, Mommy, why is daddy hollering at us?
He did mention that he was holding a press conference at the Walk in the morning and after which the clean-up effort would begin. I readied myself and coordinated with some friends to meet there at eleven o'clock to see how we could help.
My friend Jerry came to collect me and we drove into the city. We ended up having to do a few turns around the Walk area, since the police had the entire district blocked off to all traffic, in order to find a place to park and get to the press conference. When we arrived, Mayor Marty Small was already speaking, the local press were there with cameras and reporters taking up most of the area directly in front of the mayor. The crowd was several hundred strong, mostly business owners, workers, managers, and community activists from a cross-section of Atlantic City. All races and genders and social standings were represented, and that felt good. I chatted with my former Claridge coworker, Timmy Algarin for a bit, said Hi to familiar faces here and there in the crowd, and eventually found my friend Nathan Bryson (curator of the Boardwalk Hall Organ Restoration Project, native of North Carolina with the adorable accent to prove it) at the opposite end of the intersection and we hung together listening to the mayor finish up his speech. It was hard to catch any of the particulars, I'm sure the words 'resilient', 'rebuild', 'unacceptable', 'stronger' and others were used. Personally, I could care less. The time for talk was long over, it was time for action. But a politician will flutter around a microphone like a moth to a flame so we waited until he exhausted the usual platitudes and he directed us to the middle of Michigan Avenue to get our assignments for cleaning up after the riot and looting. I did notice that much of the heavy work had been done, either the city had been there earlier to board up the broken windows or the shop managers themselves had people there to get everything secured. I did notice the Brooks Brothers window was still shattered, but I could tell the shop hadn't been looted. That made me giggle, the kids don't wear Brooks.
He did mention that he was holding a press conference at the Walk in the morning and after which the clean-up effort would begin. I readied myself and coordinated with some friends to meet there at eleven o'clock to see how we could help.
My friend Jerry came to collect me and we drove into the city. We ended up having to do a few turns around the Walk area, since the police had the entire district blocked off to all traffic, in order to find a place to park and get to the press conference. When we arrived, Mayor Marty Small was already speaking, the local press were there with cameras and reporters taking up most of the area directly in front of the mayor. The crowd was several hundred strong, mostly business owners, workers, managers, and community activists from a cross-section of Atlantic City. All races and genders and social standings were represented, and that felt good. I chatted with my former Claridge coworker, Timmy Algarin for a bit, said Hi to familiar faces here and there in the crowd, and eventually found my friend Nathan Bryson (curator of the Boardwalk Hall Organ Restoration Project, native of North Carolina with the adorable accent to prove it) at the opposite end of the intersection and we hung together listening to the mayor finish up his speech. It was hard to catch any of the particulars, I'm sure the words 'resilient', 'rebuild', 'unacceptable', 'stronger' and others were used. Personally, I could care less. The time for talk was long over, it was time for action. But a politician will flutter around a microphone like a moth to a flame so we waited until he exhausted the usual platitudes and he directed us to the middle of Michigan Avenue to get our assignments for cleaning up after the riot and looting. I did notice that much of the heavy work had been done, either the city had been there earlier to board up the broken windows or the shop managers themselves had people there to get everything secured. I did notice the Brooks Brothers window was still shattered, but I could tell the shop hadn't been looted. That made me giggle, the kids don't wear Brooks.
Although it was good to see that some progress had already been made.
I half-jokingly whispered to Nathan that they probably don't have a well thought out action plan. I quickly figured out that they didn't.
Side note: There was an agitator circling around us on his bicycle, very loudly interrupting everything the mayor and the city coordinator were saying about the clean-up effort, I'm not sure what exactly his message was but he was adamant that he wasn't going to do no cleaning and that black people needed justice and were oppressed. I found it all slightly amusing, since he was yelling this at the black mayor and a lot of the black leaders of Atlantic City. And to the crowd of mixed races all working together for a common goal, to heal our city. But I often find the dark humor in things, it's my coping mechanism.
Back to the clean-up details. The mayor was on the phone with the head of the Special Improvement District getting information and once he was done, we were given very general directions and very general instructions about what needed to be done. Basically this: Grab some brooms/bin liners/trash grabbers/shovels and go find stuff to clean. Which is exactly what we did. Since I had watched the video the day before of where they looters marched and caused havoc, we decided to follow their route and see what we could find. We met up with our fellow do-gooders here and there, we had all spread through the city and were combing the streets and parking lots, filling up the trash bags with anything we could find, looting related or not. Nathan and I made our way down Atlantic Avenue, picking up whatever we saw. Liquor bottles and beer cans being the predominate refuse. Many of the shops along there had their windows boarded up, either proactively or afterwards, I'm not sure but there wasn't too much damage along there. We turned up Pennsylvania Avenue where the TD Bank is, which is also the branch I regularly use. I had watched it live as the looters smashed the window on the side of the building, shattering it but that was all they did, moving on through the city. Because it's my branch, I knew what office was there and felt bad for the person who regularly uses it. She helped me set up my credit cards for my European trip. The window was already boarded up although the shattered glass was still there, but we didn't have the right tools to clean it up so we moved along to Arctic Avenue, following the route from the day before. We talked as we attacked different piles of garbage, putting everything in our new liner, we had grabbed a fresh one from another crew on the avenue. The locals along the way asked what we were doing, and once we told them, one of the little corner store owners offered us some water. We declined but that was really nice. At one point, the mayor drove by, stopping to thank us for our efforts. He and I have only ever met at large galas so he didn't recognise me, especially with the mask on. It was very nice of him, I'm sure two lily-white boys with a trash bag and gloves stood out in that neighborhood (editor's note: I grew up a few blocks away on Virginia Avenue). As we passed the Superior Courthouse, where Nelson Johnson was a judge before retiring (he authored 'Boardwalk Empire', the book that inspired the HBO show), the windows were boarded up along the back. I had watched them getting shattered live as well, it was good to see them secured. We made our way by City Hall, then back along Arctic Avenue until finally returned to where we started, the middle of the Walk Outlets.
We decided we had done our part, we filled four large trash bags, and figured we should head home. There wasn't much more to do, there were a lot of volunteers spread throughout the city doing the exact same thing. We did bump into Nick Pittman, local weatherman, and his husband Brandon. They asked where they should go and we directed them to Gardner's Basin, the mayor said there was some clean up needed at the sea wall and we didn't think a lot of the volunteers had been over there yet.
Nathan gave me a lift home and talked about the renovation progress on his new house, and then we said our goodbyes when I got to my house.
I hopped on the social medias, there were rumors of busloads of looters on their way to the city! Antifa is mobilizing to protest in Atlantic City! Another big protest is being planned! I did what I could to quell all the fears and dispel the false rumors and then rested.
I didn't do all that much, I freely admit, but it was something I had to do.
I HAD TO.
I half-jokingly whispered to Nathan that they probably don't have a well thought out action plan. I quickly figured out that they didn't.
Side note: There was an agitator circling around us on his bicycle, very loudly interrupting everything the mayor and the city coordinator were saying about the clean-up effort, I'm not sure what exactly his message was but he was adamant that he wasn't going to do no cleaning and that black people needed justice and were oppressed. I found it all slightly amusing, since he was yelling this at the black mayor and a lot of the black leaders of Atlantic City. And to the crowd of mixed races all working together for a common goal, to heal our city. But I often find the dark humor in things, it's my coping mechanism.
Back to the clean-up details. The mayor was on the phone with the head of the Special Improvement District getting information and once he was done, we were given very general directions and very general instructions about what needed to be done. Basically this: Grab some brooms/bin liners/trash grabbers/shovels and go find stuff to clean. Which is exactly what we did. Since I had watched the video the day before of where they looters marched and caused havoc, we decided to follow their route and see what we could find. We met up with our fellow do-gooders here and there, we had all spread through the city and were combing the streets and parking lots, filling up the trash bags with anything we could find, looting related or not. Nathan and I made our way down Atlantic Avenue, picking up whatever we saw. Liquor bottles and beer cans being the predominate refuse. Many of the shops along there had their windows boarded up, either proactively or afterwards, I'm not sure but there wasn't too much damage along there. We turned up Pennsylvania Avenue where the TD Bank is, which is also the branch I regularly use. I had watched it live as the looters smashed the window on the side of the building, shattering it but that was all they did, moving on through the city. Because it's my branch, I knew what office was there and felt bad for the person who regularly uses it. She helped me set up my credit cards for my European trip. The window was already boarded up although the shattered glass was still there, but we didn't have the right tools to clean it up so we moved along to Arctic Avenue, following the route from the day before. We talked as we attacked different piles of garbage, putting everything in our new liner, we had grabbed a fresh one from another crew on the avenue. The locals along the way asked what we were doing, and once we told them, one of the little corner store owners offered us some water. We declined but that was really nice. At one point, the mayor drove by, stopping to thank us for our efforts. He and I have only ever met at large galas so he didn't recognise me, especially with the mask on. It was very nice of him, I'm sure two lily-white boys with a trash bag and gloves stood out in that neighborhood (editor's note: I grew up a few blocks away on Virginia Avenue). As we passed the Superior Courthouse, where Nelson Johnson was a judge before retiring (he authored 'Boardwalk Empire', the book that inspired the HBO show), the windows were boarded up along the back. I had watched them getting shattered live as well, it was good to see them secured. We made our way by City Hall, then back along Arctic Avenue until finally returned to where we started, the middle of the Walk Outlets.
We decided we had done our part, we filled four large trash bags, and figured we should head home. There wasn't much more to do, there were a lot of volunteers spread throughout the city doing the exact same thing. We did bump into Nick Pittman, local weatherman, and his husband Brandon. They asked where they should go and we directed them to Gardner's Basin, the mayor said there was some clean up needed at the sea wall and we didn't think a lot of the volunteers had been over there yet.
Nathan gave me a lift home and talked about the renovation progress on his new house, and then we said our goodbyes when I got to my house.
I hopped on the social medias, there were rumors of busloads of looters on their way to the city! Antifa is mobilizing to protest in Atlantic City! Another big protest is being planned! I did what I could to quell all the fears and dispel the false rumors and then rested.
I didn't do all that much, I freely admit, but it was something I had to do.
I HAD TO.
02 June 2020
The Last Day Of May
Sunday morning.
I was mulling over the day before, which wasn't much to mull over from a personal triumph perspective, since we've been on a coronavirus lockdown for months. I was still nursing the loss of Larry Kramer, a man I never met but someone who's life and rage informed mine in ways that changed me, gave me my voice, and made me the man I am today. His no-holds-barred activism during the AIDS Crisis led me to join the Act-UP movement and cause some mayhem and civil disobedience during that pandemic. We, collectively, changed the world back then. And now the entire country has been in the grips of peaceful protest over the tragic death of George Floyd at the knee of a Minneapolis cop and the sinister and unfortunate side effect of such mass protest, the rampant looting and damage that always seems to follow. As I was commenting on Facebook in the early morning about the situation, my good friend Miss Ten'e told me of a protest planned for the early afternoon at the Atlantic City Police Station, she sent me the sparsely detailed flyer to read. I mulled it over briefly and considered attending, I guess the nostalgia of my Act-UP days was still lurking in the back of my mind, but I decided against going. Those days of my youth were better served in my youth. I wasn't sure if I should reignite those dormant passions, I freely admit, I've become complacent and comfortable in my little world.
The morning moved along, I half-heartedly tried writing a blog post but I wasn't really inspired so I changed tack and decided to plan my day, such as it was. When your choices are whether you should watch the news or continue your binge-watching of some silly show for the rest of the day, there's not much to get excited about, considering that's been the majority of your life for the last two months. Lance contacted me wanting to know if I wanted to do our daily walk that day, he had had enough of his shelter-in-place family and needed to get out to clear his head. I wasn't keen on going, it was a beautiful day, it was Sunday, and the protest was going to happen in the city. I didn't want to deal with the weekend shoobies during this pandemic and whatever might happen should the protest turn like it did so many times in so many cities before. Considering my options ahead of me, though, it didn't take long for me to change my mind about taking a walk. I wanted to get out and enjoy the day. And, truth be told, maybe we'd see a little of the protest and I'd enjoy it vicariously from a distance. We decided to go a bit earlier than normal so I got ready and was out the door in short order.
We met at our usual spot on the Boardwalk at the border of Atlantic City and Ventnor and off we went into the city. As expected, it was pretty busy with tourists, bicyclists careening through the crowds, kids playing, all the usual suspects you'd expect on a late in May day. Mostly everyone was masked, although I don't wear mine when I'm not in a group. Lance and I talked through our individual (not really coping) issues and we laughed and made light of each other's problems. It helps. I told him about the protest, said Ten'e was going to be there but we kind of dropped the subject until we got further into the city and closer to where it was being held. As we approached the Tropicana from the Boardwalk side, Lance asked if I wanted to go check out what was going on, since the police station is directly up the street from there. We agreed to take the little side track and see what we could see.
As we walked up Iowa Avenue, I was a little surprised to not see throngs of people heading that way, it all seemed a little quieter than I expected, especially since it was pretty close to the time it was supposed to start. We got to the corner at Atlantic Avenue and looked across the street and saw a small gathering of people in front of the station, and some more gathered on our side of the street. Some of the shop owners were boarding up their businesses as a protective measure, since, as I stated above, these things seem to get out of control when they've been held in other cities. It's easier to put up some plywood than replace a pane of plate glass. It wasn't before long that I spotted Ten'e across the street, saying hello to everyone there and immediately holding court, as she always does wherever she goes. Lance and I held back, thinking that we'd be leaving soon and not wanting to have to do the whole Hello and Goodbye stuff back-to-back. But those plans went right out the window since Ten'e spotted us and called us over. In the few short minutes we had been standing there, more and more people began to arrive, some carrying signs and nearly all wearing masks, and I could see the police lining the front of the station, chatting with the gathering crowd. We met up with her and caught up, and honestly, I think it was at the point that I decided I was staying. The energy of the growing event was palpable and I was getting that familiar rush of do-gooding that I get at these things. Be they a fundraiser like the AIDS Walk or a charity event, I enjoy the camaradie and the brotherhood these things bring and I knew I'd be there for the duration. I purposely stayed on the fringes, I didn't know the organiser or anyone in charge so I just hung back and followed the crowd as events unfolded.
There didn't seem to be much pre-planned, I could tell that right away. There were no bullhorns, no amplifiers, no one guiding the crowd one way or another, we all just seemed to ebb and flow naturally. Not the way I normally run a function, but as I said, this wasn't my gig so I simply followed along. Once the leaders of this little gathering walked into the middle of Atlantic Avenue, and we all followed, the police pulled into the intersections on either side blocking traffic so we could hold the rally without any serious interruption. When I saw that, I was pretty impressed. Instead of letting things get out of hand unnecessarily and having the traffic disrupted by the protesters, the cops were handling the event professionally and set up instant detours around us. It was hard to hear a lot of what was being said, I assumed it was the usual rhetoric. I began a Facebook live feed so people could see how peaceful this protest was. The organiser called for us to lie down on our stomachs and chant 'I can't breathe' and we all did, it was a very powerful and moving statement. We did the usual 'No justice! No peace' call-backs and there was a lot more being said that no one could really hear. I took the time to survey the crowd and was impressed with the turnout, a very nice cross section of society, black, white, gay, straight, tattooed skateboarders, girls with pink hair, professionals, Muslims in thawbs, downbeach teens, Spanish girls, many of them with homemade signs hastily written in black Sharpie on cardboard. It was really cool to see the community coming together over an injustice, everyone moved to be seen and heard and to show solidarity. I did also note the cops on the roof of the station, keeping watch from above. But, as I said, with how these events always seem to end in other cities, I guess you can't be too careful. Evidently, there was a call to march onward down Atlantic Avenue and the crowd melted around the cop cars that had been blocking the traffic. Lance and I took this as an opportunity to melt away ourselves, we ducked back down Iowa Avenue to the Boardwalk and continued our constitutional. The Boardwalk was busy but no where near as busy as it should have been for the end of May and it being such a beautiful Sunday. We walked all the way to the Ocean Casino and decided to turn around and leisurely wandered back, laughing and talking all along the way. When we got closer to Boardwalk Hall, I noticed there were a lot of people in JFK Plaza. It didn't take long to figure out they were the protest group from earlier, evidently this was the destination after leaving the police station. Here the speakers were on stage and it seemed like the crowd was pretty much the same, although the makeup had changed a little. And the rhetoric was a bit darker, as we passed through I could hear the chant 'Fuck the police!' being said. But the cops interspersed through the area seemed to be taking it in stride and we continued on, finally splitting up at the city border and went to our respective homes.
I got in feeling a little rush of accomplishment, it was nice to be a part of such a peaceful event and I was damned proud that nothing had happened. I hopped on social media and saw praise coming in from all quarters about how nice it was, that Atlantic City showed them how protesting was done, the accolades felt good, even though I had played a very small part. But sometimes, just being there is what is needed. I have always said, it's not the level of participation, it's showing up that means the most. Crowds create awareness. And every cause needs people if they are going to get their message out there. I made myself a celebratory Bloody Mary and sat back watching the protests all across the country.
Suddenly, everything changed.
I started hearing there was some trouble in Atlantic City, people started texting me and messaging me on social media. Reports of kids coming in from the mainland. Reports of some damage going on. Reports of the police trying to stop the vandalism. I saw that my friend Patrick was live streaming so I jumped on his feed and shared it to my Facebook. I was heartsick at what I was witnessing. Mostly young folk were all over the streets, I didn't recognize anyone in the feed from the protest events earlier. Patrick followed them as they marched through Atlantic City, the mischief escalating as they went along. (editor's note: Patrick was not a part of the destruction and mayhem and theft, he was only there recording what was happening). Once they got to Pennsylvania Avenue, someone from the crowd broke a plate glass window at the TD Bank (my bank!) and the crowd moved on as the glass shattered, covering the hedgerows underneath with glass. They rounded up to Arctic Avenue and made their way back into the center of Atlantic City and as they passed the Superior Courthouse someone threw rocks through the windows along the back side, shattering them and spraying glass all over the sidewalks below. Before long, they were at City Hall and there was an intense standoff with riot-gear clad police and the large group of protestors, each in a line facing each other, chants and arguments being made on one side, a wall of silence and riot shields on the other. I sat at home in horror, screaming at them to stop this, as if they could hear me from my bedroom here in Ventnor. Thankfully, they moved on without any violence but only to venture over to the Walk, the shopping outlets in the middle of Atlantic City. Windows shattered here and there, some looting in the shops that had been closed for months because of the coronavirus, the police forming lines to try and herd the protesters and looters away from the area, you could see that control was lost and things were getting chaotic throughout the Walk (I was praying it wouldn't turn violent, I know way too many cops in the city and I was fearing for their safety). It wasn't before long that Patrick's mobile was losing power and he eventually stopped recording events, thrusting all of us in the dark as to what was happening in the city. I was able to find some more video feed from others on the scene, but it was generally more of the same and I was heartsick as I watched from the safety of my home, what was going on in the city I grew up in.
I think the image that will remain indelibly on my mind will be the shot of Patrick in a car on Pacific Avenue with a line of Atlantic City police with riot shields in a line stretching from sidewalk to sidewalk herding people along. I grew up on those streets, the very streets they were on, and have never seen anything like that in all the years I have been here.
I eventually lost all the live feeds but it seemed to have calmed down a bit. Just watching things unfold throughout the city was exhausting, and by then I was drained from all the emotions of the day.
From what I learned after, it seems that the later agitators and looters came to take advantage of the rally from earlier that day. And I have heard rumors that some of the organizers of the original protest may have had that intention all along. I don't know, as I stated above, I was very much on the edges of the event. I showed my support and went about my day. But I will say that the tone in front of the police station was markedly different from the tone on the Boardwalk. It was palpable as Lance and I passed through.
I went to bed with a defeated sense of self. I participated in a peaceful event and it morphed into bedlam right here in my city, in my hometown. I felt like now I was part of something ugly and wrong and that wasn't my intention going in.
I slept fitfully and got no rest until the next day.
There is more than one way to protest, sometimes the simplest act can make the biggest difference.
I was mulling over the day before, which wasn't much to mull over from a personal triumph perspective, since we've been on a coronavirus lockdown for months. I was still nursing the loss of Larry Kramer, a man I never met but someone who's life and rage informed mine in ways that changed me, gave me my voice, and made me the man I am today. His no-holds-barred activism during the AIDS Crisis led me to join the Act-UP movement and cause some mayhem and civil disobedience during that pandemic. We, collectively, changed the world back then. And now the entire country has been in the grips of peaceful protest over the tragic death of George Floyd at the knee of a Minneapolis cop and the sinister and unfortunate side effect of such mass protest, the rampant looting and damage that always seems to follow. As I was commenting on Facebook in the early morning about the situation, my good friend Miss Ten'e told me of a protest planned for the early afternoon at the Atlantic City Police Station, she sent me the sparsely detailed flyer to read. I mulled it over briefly and considered attending, I guess the nostalgia of my Act-UP days was still lurking in the back of my mind, but I decided against going. Those days of my youth were better served in my youth. I wasn't sure if I should reignite those dormant passions, I freely admit, I've become complacent and comfortable in my little world.
The morning moved along, I half-heartedly tried writing a blog post but I wasn't really inspired so I changed tack and decided to plan my day, such as it was. When your choices are whether you should watch the news or continue your binge-watching of some silly show for the rest of the day, there's not much to get excited about, considering that's been the majority of your life for the last two months. Lance contacted me wanting to know if I wanted to do our daily walk that day, he had had enough of his shelter-in-place family and needed to get out to clear his head. I wasn't keen on going, it was a beautiful day, it was Sunday, and the protest was going to happen in the city. I didn't want to deal with the weekend shoobies during this pandemic and whatever might happen should the protest turn like it did so many times in so many cities before. Considering my options ahead of me, though, it didn't take long for me to change my mind about taking a walk. I wanted to get out and enjoy the day. And, truth be told, maybe we'd see a little of the protest and I'd enjoy it vicariously from a distance. We decided to go a bit earlier than normal so I got ready and was out the door in short order.
We met at our usual spot on the Boardwalk at the border of Atlantic City and Ventnor and off we went into the city. As expected, it was pretty busy with tourists, bicyclists careening through the crowds, kids playing, all the usual suspects you'd expect on a late in May day. Mostly everyone was masked, although I don't wear mine when I'm not in a group. Lance and I talked through our individual (not really coping) issues and we laughed and made light of each other's problems. It helps. I told him about the protest, said Ten'e was going to be there but we kind of dropped the subject until we got further into the city and closer to where it was being held. As we approached the Tropicana from the Boardwalk side, Lance asked if I wanted to go check out what was going on, since the police station is directly up the street from there. We agreed to take the little side track and see what we could see.
As we walked up Iowa Avenue, I was a little surprised to not see throngs of people heading that way, it all seemed a little quieter than I expected, especially since it was pretty close to the time it was supposed to start. We got to the corner at Atlantic Avenue and looked across the street and saw a small gathering of people in front of the station, and some more gathered on our side of the street. Some of the shop owners were boarding up their businesses as a protective measure, since, as I stated above, these things seem to get out of control when they've been held in other cities. It's easier to put up some plywood than replace a pane of plate glass. It wasn't before long that I spotted Ten'e across the street, saying hello to everyone there and immediately holding court, as she always does wherever she goes. Lance and I held back, thinking that we'd be leaving soon and not wanting to have to do the whole Hello and Goodbye stuff back-to-back. But those plans went right out the window since Ten'e spotted us and called us over. In the few short minutes we had been standing there, more and more people began to arrive, some carrying signs and nearly all wearing masks, and I could see the police lining the front of the station, chatting with the gathering crowd. We met up with her and caught up, and honestly, I think it was at the point that I decided I was staying. The energy of the growing event was palpable and I was getting that familiar rush of do-gooding that I get at these things. Be they a fundraiser like the AIDS Walk or a charity event, I enjoy the camaradie and the brotherhood these things bring and I knew I'd be there for the duration. I purposely stayed on the fringes, I didn't know the organiser or anyone in charge so I just hung back and followed the crowd as events unfolded.
There didn't seem to be much pre-planned, I could tell that right away. There were no bullhorns, no amplifiers, no one guiding the crowd one way or another, we all just seemed to ebb and flow naturally. Not the way I normally run a function, but as I said, this wasn't my gig so I simply followed along. Once the leaders of this little gathering walked into the middle of Atlantic Avenue, and we all followed, the police pulled into the intersections on either side blocking traffic so we could hold the rally without any serious interruption. When I saw that, I was pretty impressed. Instead of letting things get out of hand unnecessarily and having the traffic disrupted by the protesters, the cops were handling the event professionally and set up instant detours around us. It was hard to hear a lot of what was being said, I assumed it was the usual rhetoric. I began a Facebook live feed so people could see how peaceful this protest was. The organiser called for us to lie down on our stomachs and chant 'I can't breathe' and we all did, it was a very powerful and moving statement. We did the usual 'No justice! No peace' call-backs and there was a lot more being said that no one could really hear. I took the time to survey the crowd and was impressed with the turnout, a very nice cross section of society, black, white, gay, straight, tattooed skateboarders, girls with pink hair, professionals, Muslims in thawbs, downbeach teens, Spanish girls, many of them with homemade signs hastily written in black Sharpie on cardboard. It was really cool to see the community coming together over an injustice, everyone moved to be seen and heard and to show solidarity. I did also note the cops on the roof of the station, keeping watch from above. But, as I said, with how these events always seem to end in other cities, I guess you can't be too careful. Evidently, there was a call to march onward down Atlantic Avenue and the crowd melted around the cop cars that had been blocking the traffic. Lance and I took this as an opportunity to melt away ourselves, we ducked back down Iowa Avenue to the Boardwalk and continued our constitutional. The Boardwalk was busy but no where near as busy as it should have been for the end of May and it being such a beautiful Sunday. We walked all the way to the Ocean Casino and decided to turn around and leisurely wandered back, laughing and talking all along the way. When we got closer to Boardwalk Hall, I noticed there were a lot of people in JFK Plaza. It didn't take long to figure out they were the protest group from earlier, evidently this was the destination after leaving the police station. Here the speakers were on stage and it seemed like the crowd was pretty much the same, although the makeup had changed a little. And the rhetoric was a bit darker, as we passed through I could hear the chant 'Fuck the police!' being said. But the cops interspersed through the area seemed to be taking it in stride and we continued on, finally splitting up at the city border and went to our respective homes.
I got in feeling a little rush of accomplishment, it was nice to be a part of such a peaceful event and I was damned proud that nothing had happened. I hopped on social media and saw praise coming in from all quarters about how nice it was, that Atlantic City showed them how protesting was done, the accolades felt good, even though I had played a very small part. But sometimes, just being there is what is needed. I have always said, it's not the level of participation, it's showing up that means the most. Crowds create awareness. And every cause needs people if they are going to get their message out there. I made myself a celebratory Bloody Mary and sat back watching the protests all across the country.
Suddenly, everything changed.
I started hearing there was some trouble in Atlantic City, people started texting me and messaging me on social media. Reports of kids coming in from the mainland. Reports of some damage going on. Reports of the police trying to stop the vandalism. I saw that my friend Patrick was live streaming so I jumped on his feed and shared it to my Facebook. I was heartsick at what I was witnessing. Mostly young folk were all over the streets, I didn't recognize anyone in the feed from the protest events earlier. Patrick followed them as they marched through Atlantic City, the mischief escalating as they went along. (editor's note: Patrick was not a part of the destruction and mayhem and theft, he was only there recording what was happening). Once they got to Pennsylvania Avenue, someone from the crowd broke a plate glass window at the TD Bank (my bank!) and the crowd moved on as the glass shattered, covering the hedgerows underneath with glass. They rounded up to Arctic Avenue and made their way back into the center of Atlantic City and as they passed the Superior Courthouse someone threw rocks through the windows along the back side, shattering them and spraying glass all over the sidewalks below. Before long, they were at City Hall and there was an intense standoff with riot-gear clad police and the large group of protestors, each in a line facing each other, chants and arguments being made on one side, a wall of silence and riot shields on the other. I sat at home in horror, screaming at them to stop this, as if they could hear me from my bedroom here in Ventnor. Thankfully, they moved on without any violence but only to venture over to the Walk, the shopping outlets in the middle of Atlantic City. Windows shattered here and there, some looting in the shops that had been closed for months because of the coronavirus, the police forming lines to try and herd the protesters and looters away from the area, you could see that control was lost and things were getting chaotic throughout the Walk (I was praying it wouldn't turn violent, I know way too many cops in the city and I was fearing for their safety). It wasn't before long that Patrick's mobile was losing power and he eventually stopped recording events, thrusting all of us in the dark as to what was happening in the city. I was able to find some more video feed from others on the scene, but it was generally more of the same and I was heartsick as I watched from the safety of my home, what was going on in the city I grew up in.
I think the image that will remain indelibly on my mind will be the shot of Patrick in a car on Pacific Avenue with a line of Atlantic City police with riot shields in a line stretching from sidewalk to sidewalk herding people along. I grew up on those streets, the very streets they were on, and have never seen anything like that in all the years I have been here.
I eventually lost all the live feeds but it seemed to have calmed down a bit. Just watching things unfold throughout the city was exhausting, and by then I was drained from all the emotions of the day.
From what I learned after, it seems that the later agitators and looters came to take advantage of the rally from earlier that day. And I have heard rumors that some of the organizers of the original protest may have had that intention all along. I don't know, as I stated above, I was very much on the edges of the event. I showed my support and went about my day. But I will say that the tone in front of the police station was markedly different from the tone on the Boardwalk. It was palpable as Lance and I passed through.
I went to bed with a defeated sense of self. I participated in a peaceful event and it morphed into bedlam right here in my city, in my hometown. I felt like now I was part of something ugly and wrong and that wasn't my intention going in.
I slept fitfully and got no rest until the next day.
There is more than one way to protest, sometimes the simplest act can make the biggest difference.
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