Round and round central park jazz

After watching The Climb by Michael Covino and Kyle Marvin (click here for info about the movie), I was feeling kind of inspired to make a quick film of jazz music in central park. The Climb starts with friends Mike and Kyle cycling up the French alps; Mike reveals he's cheated with Kyle's fiancee and the rest of the story tells the tale of their friendship as it cycled through depths of betrayal to forgiveness to rebirth. The cinematography reinforces this cycle motif with its camerawork. For example in the 3rd chapter, the directors loop around the scenes interior of the house and around the house as they tell the stories of the characters of the family. I took this rotational panning ideas to cut snippets of rotating images of a jazz performance in central park... from the trees, to the ducks, to the trash cans, to the jazz performance.

Tennis Anyone?

I’ve learned a lot of life lessons this past year. Like when you mount a bike rack to the back of your car, let the foamed bottom arm of the rack rest on the license plate rather than the body of the car. Apparently, the license plate area of the car body is structurally reinforced and can withstand the weight of bouncing bikes-- the other parts of the car body not so much. Within a week of buying our car and schlepping our bikes on a mispositioned bike rack over bumpy roads to Cape Cod, I noticed an irregular large dent below the license plate that made the car look 10 years older. It’s annoying to drive around in a newly bought damaged car, especially when the damage is self-inflicted but I figured these disfigurations were cosmetic only and not worth the hundreds of dollars it would take to fix it in a shop. To add insult to injury, over the past couple months of parking on nyc streets, like a moon marred with craters, the car has accumulated a multitude of miscellaneous scrapes and damages that have further escalated its devaluation.

Within the brown colored dented and scraped car I sat double parked waiting for alternate side parking on Friday. Much of life in NYC still remains impacted by corona. In the new normal, I haven’t taken the subway since March nor have I worked a minute in architecture since mid June. Theater, sports, and concert venues are still closed. The only thing that seems to be thriving is outdoor dining. Without safe indoor spaces to eat, restaurants have taken over parking spaces in the street for their tables and chairs. All these covid changes make parking more difficult.

After a couple months without street cleaning, alternate side parking returned to NYC late in the summer. It used to be that on Monday and Thursday a white Zamboni-like street cleaning vehicle would sweep the north sides of streets, and on Tuesday and Friday the Zamboni would alternate and clean the south sides of streets. Nowadays the city only cleans the streets 2 days a week - the northsides of streets on Thursday and the southsides on Friday. For those without experience alternate side parking in New York, it is like a game of high stakes musical chairs except no music or chairs. With more demand than supply, you have a surplus of cheapskate car owners like me vying for limited street parking after scheduled weekly street cleanings. If a street is supposed to be cleaned between 11-12:30 pm on Friday, people sit double parked in their cars on the north side of the street and wait for the street cleaning vehicle to pass before parking on the south side. Even if the street has been swept cleaned you can’t leave your car within the weekly alotted street cleaning time because police officers are liable to issue a ticket for unattended cars. People spend 90 minutes shifting their vehicles in this weekly car parking ritual.

If you don’t find a parking spot during street cleaning times, you’re like a lost soul left to circle around the streets till someone leaves. It could take hours to find a spot. In foraging for parking spaces, I’ve noticed building contractors usually vacate their spaces around 4 pm, teachers leave their designated school spots at 5pm, and vans at the farmer’s market in front of the American Museum of Natural History leave at 6pm on Sunday. You start noticing these things about the neighborhood when you’re cheap, unemployed, and looking for parking.

As I was waiting in my car continuing my Jane Jacobs urban analysis of the neighborhood, a gray pickup truck passed by and the driver inquired whether I’d like a quote to fix the dent on the back of my car.

“Sure” I replied, I had 90 minutes to waste.

He pulled off the side of the road and came by to explain his offer.

“I’m Jack.” He puts his fist out for a bump to initiate a handshake free covid salutation. “I’m in the neighborhood fixing cars for people who can’t bring their cars to the garage in the pandemic. I can give you a quote for the repair.”

“Where’s your garage?”

“28th street, but I can fix your car here.”

“Here?”

“Yes.” He started walking around the car and taking inventory of all the nicks and dents. After a survey of the damage he said, “I’ll charge you $200 cash. I can fix the dent on the back by pushing it from the inside.” In his hands he held an assortment of suction cups, mallets and wrenches.

“Cool.” For $200 I thought it was a steal. Bring the car to a garage, and they would probably charge $500 minimum. The car was already fucked up so I wasn’t too worried he would mess it up more.

As Jack was working on my car, the driver from the car behind mine approached me all curious about the in-situ repair. He looked and sounded like Larry David but was named Steve. It’s not everyday you have your car repaired on the street during alternate side parking.

After asking me about the repairs, Steve asked how long I lived in the area, I told him I’ve been here 25 years, and pointed to the building I lived in across the street. When he asked what I did for a living, I bluntly replied “tennis… actually I play tennis all the time because I lost my job in architecture. Our firm had 3 libraries and a poet’s café but then all our work was wiped out due to covid. Usually it’s embarrassing to reveal you’re unemployed... a sign of weakness that nobody finds you worth hiring. After looking for 4 months for a job without success, I’ve become quite good at tennis. I can rally for extended periods of time and position the ball anywhere on the court at will… so when Steve asked me what I do, I replied with my current strength: tennis.

Steve, unexpectedly revealed he too is also an avid tennis player and has played all summer on Fire Island. Interesting. He asked me to guess his age. He was spritely. I guessed 65. He said 77. He then said “I may look old, but I’m probably the best old person you’ll play at tennis. I play on clay because it’s easier on my joints, and I can’t run, but I’m good.”

“Cool.” I told him we could play in central park or riverside park one day and traded phone numbers.

When Jack finished working on my car, he started talking to Steve and recommending fixes to Steve’s Lexus. They circle around Steve’s car. For $100, he touches up the paint on Steve’s car. I continue talking to Steve while all this repair work is going on.

Steve excuses himself while he takes a call. It’s a woman out in staten island. Apparently he got involved with democrat Afgan war vet Max Rose’s election campaign, and he talks to fellow volunteers in public relations plotting to help regain democratic control of the house in NY state. I asked him what his profession was thinking he was in advertising. Steve replies “real estate developer… but I used to be a psychoanalyst.”

Thinking this conversation may now lead me to a job, I start asking him what kind of buildings he develops.

“Mixed use, retail and housing.” He responds. “We started buying property in the lower east side and flipping them.”

“Really? I worked on a building at Essex Crossing”

Steve says, “My office is a block away from Essex Crossing. What kind of work do you do?

“Schools, housing, university projects.”

“Do you file jobs with the department of buildings in the city?”

“Yes. I spent much of the past year dealing with city bureaucracy and filing building applications for my designs.” Filing with the city is tedious I think to myself, is this what my career has come to? Conversations about filing to drum up work from random alternate side parkers?

Jack was now finished with Steve’s car. I hand Jack $200. He pockets $100 from Steve. Overhearing our political conversation, Jack now rants, “Our country is too divided now. People today are too thin skinned. Kids are spoiled. Before we used to eat whatever you were given. We ate all sorts of offal, it’s what our family could afford. Nowadays kids have too many choices. One kid is eating pizza, another one eats a hamburger… kids used to play on the street. When I grew up as a Russian Jew in Coney Island, we had to get along with the blacks in the neighborhood. Kids went to the playgrounds to socialize, to learn how to navigate cultures and live with people of different backgrounds and cultures…”

When Jack leaves, Steve and I thank our good fortunes finding a skilled car repairman off the street. Minutes later into our conversation, a building superintendent came down the street and remarks, “isn’t that guy the worst? He’s like a Gypsy. He does bad work and make $200 here $100 there. He’s so rich he drives a Mercedes.”

Steve and I look at each other and think if we were fleeced. We then rationalize to ourselves if we had taken our cars to a proper auto mechanic’s garage the repairs would’ve cost well over the $300 we paid. In the end we were happy with Jack’s work.

What started as a mispositioned bike rack, led to an unsightly dent and then a repair that spurred a conversation of tennis, politics, and potential future architecture work.

Politics 201 - Part 2 (Community Board Meeting)

Unbeknownst to me at the time, The Knights of Columbus is a large catholic fraternal organization that started in 1882 to support Irish immigrants by providing life insurance to widows. Many catholic leaders in America have been knights.... president J. f kennedy, mayor Dan Daly, coach Vince Lombardi, judge Samuel alito... The only thing I knew of the knights prior to the meeting was their ugly 23 story building designed by dinkeloo roache that greets visitors to new haven arriving from the highway. The lodge in far Rockaway was nondescript save for its coat of arms on a lit billboard by the parking lot. Inside there was a large ballroom with a square wood floor inset into a green carpet. The light wood floor was left open, the council members comprised of 50 unpaid members appointed by the Borough President that represent the District formed the tribunal and sat on long tables arranged on 3 sides... we set up our projector and table on the remaining side of the square. The public community members with all the lazy millennials, hot dog seller hirers, dumbass plastic bag questioners, beach lifeguard requesters, government sanitation and census workers, and disgruntled subway riders with grand plans were seated in rows behind the council members on all sides. I sat in the back right and estimated there were probably a couple hundred in attendance. Lyn took the floor and started the 5 minute slideshow which was projected onto a wall in a recessed alcove at the back of the room.

When Vitruvius wrote about dinocrates presenting to Alexander the Great in book 2 of his seminal treatise Four Books on Architecture, he describes him as “a man of tall stature, pleasing countenance, and altogether of dignified appearance. Trusting to the gifts with which nature had thus endowed him, he put off his ordinary clothing, and having anointed himself with oil, crowned his head with a wreath of poplar, slung a lion's skin across his left shoulder, and carrying a large club in his right hand, he sallied forth to the royal tribunal, at a period when the king was dispensing justice. The novelty of his appearance excited the attention of the people; and Alexander soon discovering, with astonishment, the object of their curiosity, ordered the crowd to make way for him, and demanded to know who he was. "A Macedonian architect," replied Dinocrates, "who suggests schemes and designs worthy your royal renown. I propose to form Mount Athos into the statue of a man holding a spacious city in his left hand, and in his right a huge cup, into which shall be collected all the streams of the mountain, which shall then be poured into the sea."

Although the appearance  for design architects has somewhat changed over the centuries, architects definitely have cultivated a certain look. instead of lion skins and wreaths... today thick rimmed glasses, sport jacket, styled hair, crisp dark gray shirt  is the codified dress attire. Like architects from 220 BC, R. played the part and dressed in the designer uniform for the meeting in front of the community board.

The presentation was 5 minutes and probably 90% incomprehensible to the masses. A series of plans, FEMA flood maps,  sections and technical drawings and renderings were flashed upon the screen. R.’s attempt to translate simple architecture jargon to laypeople fell flat. I’ve been at presentations where we received standing ovations at the end... where the presenters were like dinocrates and the audience members were sold on ideas and visions. at this presentation I felt we had presented an enigmatic puzzle, raising more questions than answers. we spent the next 50 minutes explaining and clarifying the design in a prolonged question answer session with the board after the presentation. 

Board  member seeking to beautify our building. “Can we add a little greenery, shrubs to the sidewalk by the building” I thought about frank Lloyd Wright’s funny quote about how to correct an architectural mistake. “A doctor can bury his mistakes, but an architect can only advise his clients to plant vines.” I couldn’t tell whether this board member opened up this line of questioning with a motivation to fix our building which may be interpreted as a concrete bunker, or if they just wanted to introduce plantings to the entry. R. tried to evade this question by misdirecting the questioner to obscure street tree ordinances. All month, the head of queens library, J., told us he didn’t want grass or planting in front of the building because trash collects amongst the grasses. “There’s a series of laws regulating the spacing of street trees on site.. “ “no, I’m talking about vegetation along the building” here, R. tried to avoid the topic again “We’d like to plant another tree, but because of the regulations” “no I get it.. but I’m talking about the planting by the side of the building” R. relented and conceded we would look into providing plantings.

Technocrat board member. Technical questions are finite with easily definable answers. “will the skylight overload the air conditioning system?” “The skylights will have motorized shades”

Confused board member.  You cringe when someone qualifies a question by noting how stupid it is. “This is a stupid question but technically the addition is to the right of the existing library? “Yes. The library will be built on the empty plot between the deli and the existing library.” The board member revealed she watched the whole presentation replete with plans and renderings without knowing where the project was. “My next question is will you have a bike rack in front of the library?” “Yes and it would be good to have a bike lane.” At this point the audience booed and hollered. Apparently they like to bike without bike lanes there. At this point, to allay the mob, R. joked “I have some free reusable bags to give out, they’re in my car” the mob went from outraged to laughing. 

Board member trying to see the logic behind our building configuration. “I understand you’re building an addition that will double the size of the old library... can you build your library on top of the old library and save the expense of pile foundations?” “The existing foundations can’t handle the load... and if we built on top of the old library we would have to flood proof it which would have been cost prohibitive.” “Don’t you have to floodproof the existing building?” “Technically no, if we build a new building.” “Ok good luck”

Board member who asked the only question we were prepared for. “What’s your timeline and what’s the accessibility going to be like for the existing library?” “Our timeline to open is winter or summer 2023. For the most part the library will remain open during construction.”

Bitter Board member. “So the library on 94th street, Far Rockaway was promised to us for after hours use, but that never came through...  we see you’ve set up an after hours exit and community spaces.. will you guarantee these spaces can be used by the community after hours?” R. told me when the representative for queens public library, Richard,  answered this question for the team, the nature of the presentation took a dramatic nose dive  for the worse. Richard is a lion with a thick gray mane from Pittsburgh. He grew up in the 1970s when steel workers lived with pride, and a man’s honesty was his honor. You could imagine Richard with blackened steel dust nose and hard hat. In design meetings he always spoke his mind and was helpful.  At the community board meeting, all his positive traits became a liability.... he made the cardinal sin of telling the public the truthful intentions of the library operations. “The operations of the library will have to be discussed with operations... but the main entry to the library will be through the existing building.” “A lot of people commute to work and don’t get home till late so getting to the library during traditional hours will be hard.”

After this point, the floodgates opened for  all sorts of questions we could’ve never predicted. I couldn’t write my notes fast enough to record all the back and forth dialogue. My notebook record of questions aimed at us defined the collective dreams of what a community thought a library should be, and their collective fears of how it wouldn’t meet their expectations... R. tried valiantly to defend the design. “The deli on the corner is an eyesore. What can you do for that property?” <we will suggest modifications for the neighbor’s deli, perhaps offer ideas on signage changes> “Regarding global warming and flooding. I think the building should be built a little higher.” <we can’t make the building too high otherwise we’ll need an elevator which is susceptible to floods and makes wheelchair people feel excluded> “How are you relating the building to the beach community?” <we are using concrete panels with the wood grain impressions to relate to the weathered wood shingle housing vernacular> “The library is very small and it doesn’t allow for an expansion for books. You might as well tear it down and build a new library 4 stories tall. You don’t know what it feels like to go through a flood or a hurricane. We need a place for kids to innovate. The community is expecting 20,000 more residents and this library will not be able to accommodate everyone.” <Libraries all around are questioning how much space to allocate for book since people can read digitally now. Libraries are the last civic space. So our community rooms will address that need.  We understand your pain but the budget for the building was not determined by us> “Can you include space to exhibit local artists? How do local artists get involved?” <there is a percent for art program where we will invite local attorney to compete> “Will you utilize renewable energy?” <solar panels> “Will you have a backup generator? <no> “Why not?” <Cost of maintaining it, cost of wiring, lack of space on the roof> “Are you going to drive piles for the foundations If so it will be very loud and disturbing.” <we will try to use micro piles or drilled piles> “Why aren’t you floodproofing the existing library?” <there’s a loophole in the code that states if you classify an addition as a newly constructed separate building, you don’t have to floodproof the existing building. Raising the existing building 4 feet would basically use up all the budget for the project> “How are your ensuring the resiliency of materials for flooding” <by using concrete, zinc, and concrete panels which are durable> “what is your budget?” <8-10 million> “for that amount of money I don’t think we’re expanding the library. You have spaces but no extra books. People come to the library to read books. Now we’ll have 20,000 more housing units projected here, how are we going to serve them?” After 40 minutes of needling, R. finally broke down like a wounded animal and told the board his personal experience with small expansions with life changing consequences. <I’ve been living with my son sleeping in our room for the past 6 years. Just this past month, we’ve finished incorporating an adjacent studio to our apartment to give our son his own room. In giving him his own room, every other room in our apartment has benefitted and the functionality of our space has tremendously improved.> 

Sensing R. was  bleeding, the board members circled like sharks. More questions and concerns ensued. Everyone wanted to suggest a design. “Why don’t you move staff to the new library to make community space in the existing library? ... the last resolution at the meeting was  to reconvene at a walk through of the existing library site to discuss the plans with the board members to talk about different options. 

We left the Knights of Columbus Lodge feeling as if we had been ambushed. The night was damp with misty ocean air. You could see lights of planes trail just above the low night clouds in the sky as they landed at JFK airport. Up till that point, Queens public libary, and the public design commission had nothing but praise for the library proposal. We were expecting a victory parade and ticker tape adulation, but instead we were sent to the community board guillotine. R. was stunned at what had unfolded. If the library project ends or is delayed, it would be disastrous for the firm. R. worried about seeing newspaper headlines "Architect relates new library to story of his apartment renovation where gaining an extra room for his kid changes his life." Our train ride back took an egregious amount of time. 16 minutes we waited on the subway platform in the cold to get a train to Broad Channel. i kept thinking about the truth in what the MAN WIITH THE 1.6 MILLION DOLLAR TRANSIT PLAN had in mind. it was ridiculous the A trains didn't just continue along the far rockaway spur and spare residents annoying wait times.

This was R.'s third community board meeting experience. For the Bomb Squad job in the Bronx, which was put on hold indefinitely due to costs, residents questioned the open firing ranges where 27,000 officers would come and fulfill noisy bang bang outdoor target practice. For Dia Beacon, the community meeting was held at an old courthouse structure. "I didn't sleep or eat well before that meeting. I did a really bad job. at one point, some guy from the audience asks if we could plant more trees for the project. artist robert irwin was furious at this remark. Irwin gets out out of his seat, exits the half size wooden swing doors from the witness bench, and puts his face in the man's face and says "we planted trees in the parking lot, trees on the site... we've planted so many goddamn trees and you're asking for more? no way...." the man who asked the question turned out to be the planning commissioner for the town of Beacon. he got his revenge by making us plant trees up and down the road and reconfiguring the intersection in front of the museum.

To console R., i told him there was nothing we could do to prepare for this meeting. then i asked "who came up with the program?" (how did we end up making 2 large rooms of space for our library addition) i asked "initially, we put the children's section into the new part of the library, but Queens didn't want to have the staff to supervise it so they told us to put two lockable rooms in the new addition space. we tried to put the circulation desk in the new wing, but queens objected to that too. now, the community thinks we provided them 2 useless empty rooms, without books. it looks like it will not be useful to their needs."   In retrospect, i thought, we should've prepared a stance and attitude about our approach to the library. not some meek comfortable position like "let's just add more bookshelves and space".... we should've made an argument that "the future of the libary is a community space, a teaching space, a space to foster people's ambitions through teaching and interaction." oh well.

Pondering worse case scenarios, R. told me if we lost this job, we could divert our efforts to marketing. To my knowledge, R. and L. have never done marketing. Jobs just find them. a lighting renovation at a lincoln center library led to 3 library jobs for them. before that, they were involved with artists after working on the dia beacon museum. "the problem with working with artists is that they take all the credit. for dia beacon, robert irwin took all the credit. for our installation at the nytimes building, ben rubin took all the credit for the kinetic text installation. we did a job for joan mitchell foundation" "is she still alive?" i asked. "no, the manager there was a nasty person on the outside and the inside... but she wore haute couture to somehow mask her nasty personality.... artists or people who work for artists always want architects to work for free. we did a good job for the joan mitchell foundation.... but it was strange. after we finished the job, we asked to take pictures of the building, which they alllowed. when i posted the pictures to the internet, the manager had a fit. she cursed me out and said "how dare you take pictures of my personal space and upload them online. and those paintings shown in the pictures compromise our security! now all the criminals can look online and see all the valuable paintings we have in our collection." "we photoshopped all the pictures of the gallery, blurring out all the people and whiting out all the paintings. i heard at a dinner, the manager told ben rubin "R. and L. are very very bad people."

To divert his attention I asked him what the carriage house was. I’ve seen models in the office, and it had a strange name. “it is an exhibit space for old horse carriages. it's a barrel vaulted exhibit space made of corrugated metal. the contractors were so bad, when they poured the sidewalks, the concrete sloped into the building instead of away so much we couldn't even open the doors. during rains, water came pouring into the exhibit space damaging 1/2 of the carriages beyond repair. to allow the door to open, the contractors had to jack hammer away a depression into the concrete. the guy in charge of the project, benjamin,  was talented, but not detail oriented. during construction, he didn't notice the corrugated metal siding was supposed to overlap at the center highpoint. anyways, water started leaking through the joint. we used sprayfoam insulation on the inside for thermal insulation... so it's impossible to trace where the leaks are now. the water just shows up on the ground. the structural engineer said we're lucky the structure didn't fall down because the siding was supposed to overlap.” I imagined a jackhammered quarter circle of concrete in front of a door.... “as if this wasn't bad enough, for some reason. the intake fan was supposed to be mounted high, but it was mounted low. bugs would descend into the fan like kamikazes and then be sliced up into pieces and blown into the space leaving an unsightly slime of bug guts on the floor."

Ok, maybe talk of previous construction was not the best topic... I then asked how his weekend went. “i went upstate hiking with the family on Sunday. we saw an old mine. my poor sister, she got really sick (i found out today she went down with pneumonia)." as he showed me pictures of his hike i told R. about some nice abandoned railway lines that run upstate through forests that have been converted into bike trails. at their terminus were quarries for the stone used to build the brooklyn bridge. i asked if he was close to his sister, Peg. I had seen R.'s sister at his christmas party. she looked like R. except female. slender and tall with sunk eyes like R., she was a reserarcher of epinephrine neruortransmitters and parkinson's disease at NYU who straight talked with a oklahaman drawl. i told him, I talked biology for a long time with her at his christmas party. I noted to R., certain biologists are very verbal, and relate biology through stories. every molecule, every pathway are like characters playing a part of a story and can be verbalized. (i'm not that type of biologist) he chuckled at my observation. he had previously renovated her lab that was an old bellevue hospital room replete with odd surgical tools. these surgical tools, which look like gynecological implements with weird snippers sit in a metal can in our model shop in the office. R. answered my question, "ever since my son was born, my sister and I hang out a lot. before that, he had renovated her apartment in 1999 and they didn't speak for 10 years. i couldnt get my preferred contractor to work on the job, so i got some czech guys somebody recommended. everytime her bathroom would clog, she would call me to complain... also, my sister also didn't like the fact they took 10 days to tile her bathroom when it should've only took 1. i met with the czech contractors and my sister in a coffee shop. they said to us they better be paid, or else. my sister stormed out and threatened to call the cops. i asked my friend at diller scofidio who was czech and asked him what he would do in my situation. he said "pay the czechs... otherwise they'll sabotage your apartment, snip some wires.... or come back for revenge." i paid them." Every conversation ended in some sort of construction misery. 2 hours in a train was like our therapy. R. would miss the rest of the week of work — Probably suffering pneumonia and community board agony.

After the meeting I’ve been working hard, trying to just complete the design documentation milestone phase of design so R. and L. can get paid for their services. In my spare time, I’ve been scouring the internet for news or reported accounts of our disastrous community board meeting... nothing. instead I find miserable tidbits of previous community board meetings like this. “Two Far Rockaway residents said a serious problem is developing as absentee landlords are buying up bungalows on Beach 25th Street. They say these are being used to house up to 20 ex-convicts and discharged mental patients per unit, with no supervision.  This includes a number of sexual predators, they said.”

Dinocrates presenting to Alexander the Great

RNA vs DNA

NYC has shut down. schools, museums, restaurants, and stores are all closed. the subways run empty. It feels like the city is besieged in a wartime crisis. Like many others, I feel like a hopeless pawn caught in the crossfire of the current 4 billion year old feud between two long-standing molecular rivals: RNA and DNA. 

Currently a single-stranded RNA virus, Covid-19 is fighting for control of the molecular machinery that runs human cells on a global scale. ravaging cruise ships, church gatherings, and nursing homes, Covid-19 virus is scheming and impotent... not able to reproduce by themselves, they sit opportunistically in protein coat capsids that look like tanks ready to pounce on the cells of the weak and the old. They target DNA-run cells which boast the factories with power to create molecular machines. viruses like covid-19 hijack the DNA cell's factories to copy themselves because they don't have factories of their own. they blast through membrane walls, and send their  genetic code blueprints inside. once invaded, the cells are co-opted and begin assembling virus components capsids and single strands of RNA. when enough virus has been assembled, the cell bursts open, dispersing the viruses en masse. when sneezed or coughed out into someone else's mouth, nose or eyes the virus jumps to its next host. 

Miraculously over the course of billions of years, DNA somehow encoded the elements of human consciousness (think watson and crick 1953) through which it was able to discover its structure. DNA molecule was finally looking at itself.  DNA through their proxy scientists, was able to ascertain its own sequence, and then analyze their nemesis' viral RNA's structure and sequence to try to develop diagnostics and vaccines to eradicate viral RNA. being an agent of DNA myself, i wonder if RNA viruses were once fully functioning cells that became emasculated  by host DNA cells, or were they small cells that parasitized larger DNA cells, or were they bits of RNA that escaped from larger organisms? on a macroscopic policy scale, DNA through their surrogate politicians, are now decreeing social distancing, travel bans, and quarantines to limit RNA spread, and lowering interest rates to lessen the economic hardships on fellow DNA organisms. on a local scale, DNA through their human proxies are hoarding toilet paper, bread and pasta for survival in their battle against RNA.

The Trial

For 1 month last summer I followed the same strange daily ritual. I emerged from the subway at 12:40 pm called in an order for a small pho beef noodle soup. It takes 5 minutes to walk from the train station to the Vietnamese restaurant located on the fringe of Chinatown... which is the exact amount of time it takes to prepare the pho and have it ready on the table. I would eat quickly enough to make it to the metal detector line at the courthouse across the street. By 1 o'clock, I was in my assigned seat in the courtroom as a juror. 

During the first week, 20 of us sat and listened to cases and determined whether they should proceed to trial. This is the process that has been adopted as a reaction to British rule. Before the Revolution, American political dissenters were prosecuted by British judges without jury, often unfairly. To ensure fair trials in their new country, Americans adopted a system where everyday citizens are called upon to witness and participate in judicial proceedings. Drug possession, shoplifting, check fraud, weapons possession... each time a case was brought in, a prosecutor would read the technical definition of the crime from a thick book and methodically present the evidence arguing for trial. I don’t think the founding fathers ever imagined 20 professionals sacrificing 1/2 a day of work  for 4 weeks to oversee prosecutions of such petty crimes. I was very disgruntled for having to make up lost work time with nightly unpaid overtime during my jury duty. 

Most of the cases were straightforward with cops or undercover detectives providing evidence and testimony. No defendants took the stand, probably because they knew their chances of averting trial was slim. The prosecutors were young. Their suits looked a bit oversized, as if waiting for the budding lawyers to grow into them. They were working their way up by prosecuting petty crimes. Only 11 jurors aye votes are needed to have cases proceed to trial. Surprisingly, the African Americans on grand jury never voted to have cases presented  proceed to trial. For them, they viewed the police with suspicion, often mistrusting their testimony. The potential sentences for these crimes most often committed by African Americans was often very harsh. Life-altering-incarceration-time harsh. 

The start of the second week was different. This time, a witness dressed in prison garb came to the stand.  A light gray shirt and pants like medical scrubs and prison shoes. I thought it was mysterious a prisoner was providing testimony. Can someone convicted of a crime be trusted himself to convict another? He walked to the table, was sworn in... then proceeded to start a strange tale...

"My mom and I were hosting a party in our apartment. My mom’s boyfriend G. was there. Everybody was having a good time until one of my childhood friends, J. threw up. We told him that shit wasn't funny and he had to clean it up... but he was too drunk, and refused. Unhappy with his behavior, we kicked J. out the door. But you know, J. kept knocking on the door drunk trying to get back in. The next time J. knocked, G. went angrily out the apartment with a toilet paper roll and a bottle of liquor and told everyone he would "take care of the situation".  G. came back, and the party continued for a while until we heard a frantic knock on the door. I opened the door and saw J. half burned and smoldering... like his flesh looked like meat. J kept asking me "what happened... why did they do this to me?" The witness choked up recounting the scene. "Calls were made to the fire department. G. warned everyone at the party if they told the police anything, he would come after them. When the police investigated what had happened, no one from the party provided testimony. The case went unsolved for 5 years. It was assumed somehow J. got drunk, and somehow lit himself on fire." 

After the testimony, jurors have to wait for the next witness to arrive. There was never a set schedule. sometimes you would  wait half an hour, other times a couple hours. You never knew when the next witness would take the stand, or who the next witness would be. During this intermission, we jurors looked at each other in a daze silently trying to process the information we had just heard. Chances are, in our everyday lives, we would never have interacted with any of the witnesses we were about to see or the victim. Now we were not only being led into their world but into their most tightly held  secrets. 

I’ve never been inside a housing project myself. They sit in the city like ominous large brick buildings, looming over trash filled green space with empty park benches. It was thought in the 1960s by clearing our slums and moving poor black and Hispanic people to high rise buildings with plentiful light and air (tower in the park), all the urban troubles they faced in low rise congested  slums  would be solved. The social problems actually became magnified in the housing projects. Without stores at their base for retail, or  architecture designed at a human scale to encourage community, these places have become dangerous black holes of poverty, cut away from the city fabric, isolated islands of desperation. 

The warden knocked on the door and abruptly announced the next witness to take the stand. She was a doctor, a middle aged woman coroner.

After her credentials and expertise were presented, she talked about her role. Every suspicious death in nyc is examined by a coroner to determine cause of death. The doctor recounted what happened in J.’s case. He came to his hospital badly burned and unconscious. J. was immediately set in a special isolation chamber. Skin grafts were performed. Periodically J.’s  skin would need to be cut to let breathe. Healthy skin is porous. Badly burned skin is hard, and must be cut open to heal. After a couple weeks, J. succumbed to an infection and passed away. The testimony by the doctor was the most unsettling as slides of the victim were projected on a screen and discussed in exhaustive medical detail. At this point in the trial, i realized there would be no justice for the victim. He had died and there was no way to bring him back. The most we could do was to bring the perpetrator to justice. 

As this was the first time on jury, I was struck that the whole process was a story telling process. Different people were taking the stand and testifying about what they saw happen. It was up to the jury to piece the stories together to figure out what happened. The sequence of the witnesses was suspenseful... each providing color to the trial. 

I couldn’t sleep after the testimony that night. I kept imagining what happened, and replaying the events in my mind. It did seem very strange the events in question occurred 5 years ago.

The third witness to take the stand was an old fire marshall. He explained that fire marshals are elected by their department after a career of commendable service. Fire Marshall’s duties include investigating causes of arson. The fire marshall explained the physical evidence at the site. Burn marks found within the stairwell indicated an accelerant was used to start a fire. An accelerant like alcohol, when lit, could cause a strong enough fire to create a burn mark in concrete. Photos of the stairwell with char marks were shown. 

After the fire marshall left, the last witness rolled into the court...

She was a middle aged black woman in a wheel chair with cornrows who had one leg amputated. She identified herself as the girlfriend of G. The last time she saw G. was on a street corner.. He asked her for twenty dollars. She told him she didn’t have it. She had just gotten her leg amputated for diabetes complications and was short on cash and limited to a wheelchair. When she didn’t give it, he punched her hard in the back of the head. At that point, she decided to bring the story of G. to the police. Her testimony was the last climactic piece of the puzzle and provided the motive for conviction. “I was sleeping when G. came back to our apartment without a shirt covered with ash. I asked him what happened?  He said, ‘you’ll never believe what happened! I was out at a party last night. I saw J. at the party. He owed me some cash. When I saw him leave the apartment, I went to ask for my money back.  I saw him passed out in the stairwell. To try to wake him up, I lit a small fire on him.  I didn’t realize his jacket was flammable, and all of sudden he started burning fast. I made my way back to the apartment and started heading out. As I was exiting the lobby, J. had just come down in the elevator just as the  fire fighters and police arrived. To remove any suspicion that  I caused the fire, I took off my shirt and said “shit that nigger’s on fire!” And proceeded to blanket Jay to put out the remaining  flames. If you tell anyone about this, I’ll throw you into the river in a barrel.’ A few weeks later after J. passed away, G. told me it was cause J. had AIDS that he got the infection and died. I didn’t do it.”

the woman was wheeled out of the courtroom. through her story, the puzzle pieces provided by the convict, coroner, fire marshall, ex-con, and girlfriend coalesced to reveal the disturbing portrait and motives of G., the only person outside of the deceased who knows what really happened the night of the murder.

Politics 101

I took my silence for granted till I was awoken by a thunderous rumble-noise 3 months ago. It sounded like a large airplane gearing for takeoff on a runway. The noise would shake my bed and last 20 minutes and then die down as if a plane had taken flight... only to return and land and take off every 80 minutes thereby effectively ruining any chance of deep sleep. When I awoke, I groggily looked outside my window and realized there were in fact no planes circling the apartment —my neighbor Pat had installed an air conditioning system with an exhaust vent through their exterior wall pointed right at my window! They had spent the last 6 months combining  3 apartments into one mega  unit. The built-in air conditioning system was the last stage of their construction... a lavish sign of their wealth beyond owning  a huge apartment, as everyone else in the building uses the traditional window-mounted air conditioner units.  

A slim real estate whiz with a boyish face and an even younger-looking rotund wife, nothing seems to faze Pat. His has a great elan and unflappable demeanor. Hang around our apartment door and you’re liable to hear some type of screaming outbreak or out of control raging parent trying to talk sense into their kid with rap music blaring in the background. If you stand by their door, you hear nothing but calm conversations and laughter and maybe some light Chopin. 

They have so much money to burn they have their 2 kids attend a fancy private school even though we all live within a coveted public school district. When he opens the door you really see how the other side lives. Compared to the squalor of our apartment, looking into their apartment you see clear hardwood floors and a veritable staff that supports their endeavors— teachers, nannies, and a cleaning lady scurrying around... 

I was friends with Pat as both our kids play baseball. Small talk about baseball brings rich and poor people together. We reminisced how both our teams suffered decades long championship droughts .. he hailed from the curse of the billy goat Chicago Cubs  and I suffered the curse of the bambino Boston redsox. 

I understood how anxious he seemed to return to his apartment with his family after a yearlong renovation. Not wanting to break the bad news to him that his air conditioner was loud and would possibly require an extensive system overhaul, I wrote an email to  a friend on the coop board, Matt to see if we could meet to discuss how to notify Pat tactfully that his air conditioner was loud. 

Hi Matt,

I hope all is going well with you. I wanted to speak with you about how best to approach the new air conditioner noise in the shaft, are around Sunday night?  I like Pat and consider him a friend and appreciate all the effort he’s put into the building, but at the same time it seems his AC unit in 5C/D is making an unreasonable amount of noise when it cycles on. I’ve attached a screen shot of a decibel reading I made outside our window and a video clip. The noise appears a lot higher than allowed by nyc noise regulations. I’m surprised the building architect approved the AC given its noise generation. When we keep our windows open for cross ventilation we can hear the noise all the way in our front bedrooms and it’s loud when we keep our kids’ bedroom window open.  When I bumped into Betty who lives in 3B last night, she remarked she was woken up by the noise a couple nights ago. I think the noise affects the B, D and E lines in the building. 

Luke 

Matt responded that he had forwarded my email to Pat directly. I was mortified. 

Hi Luke, 

Yikes. 70db is loud--and much higher than the 42db limit. I understand. If it's okay with you, I forwarded Pat and the building manager your email about this situation. 

Matt

All my efforts to seek a discreet resolution to the issue then blew up in my  face. Of course,  the next day I bumped into Pat on the street by coincidence. He shot me a fake smile and proceeded to apologize for his air conditioning noise. I was the sneaky character not able to confront the situation with him directly, he was being upfront about the issue in addressing me. He was the consummate politician, the leader of the coop board feigning fake concern over the noise. I think he promptly went to his apartment with sinister revenge in mind as he turned his air conditioner even higher generating more noise than before.. 

There are  3 modes of living in New York, renting an apartment, owning a coop (short for cooperative), or owning a condominium. Each mode has its social and political implications. If you rent an apartment, you’re like a serf paying monthly tribute to a landlord. You have limited to no rights, and the landlord could raise the rent as they see fit, and generally respond slowly to pleas for repairs. We aren’t at this level of society... we are rich enough to afford a mortgage.

If you own a condominium, you pay a premium to be the king of your domain... you can use the condominium any way you see fit, leasing or lending  it out to others. We aren’t rich enough for this. 

If you own a coop, like most nyc homeowners, you own shares in a corporation that entitles you to use an apartment within a building. The larger the apartment you own, the more shares you own. The coop board is comprised of elected shareholders that decide on collective rules (no dogs, laundry times, renovation rules, sublet rules). In addition, coop boards have the right to admit or deny potential buyers. Those with the most shares and largest apartments  have a large advantage in the elections as the the votes allotted is proportional to shares owned.

Being the largest shareholder with 3 apartments, it was no surprise Pat had  become the president of the coop board. The only way a small shareholder could be elected to the board is to form political alliances and pooling voting shares towards one candidate. I never ran for office since I figured  why bother? I had no chance to compete with larger shareholders. Plus I was too busy watching late night informercials to involve myself with my neighbors. 

A week later, as the air conditioner noise still persisted, sleep deprived, I started knocking on people’s doors asking if they had noticed this turbine noise. They did. I asked them to email Pat of their displeasure, I was effectively canvassing a group of residents to protest Pat’s air conditioner noise thinking the more people that complained to him the more effective the complaint. Obama started his career knocking on doors canvassing for green energy and environmental issues. I started my political career with similar lofty ambitions... canvassing against  an air conditioner noise. Rhea made a heartfelt plea.

Hi, Pat - I’ve recently realized that the loud sound outside my bedroom window is from the air conditioner in your apartment. It is especially loud in our master bedroom, but I can hear it anywhere in our apartment. Is there anything wrong with the unit, because it is uncharacteristically loud?

Would you please investigate and let me know? 

Thanks so much, 

Rhea 

While my apartment was noisy and unbearably hot, Pat was sending missives and enjoying the cool confines of his abode. this is one of his typical heartless replies to  Rhea to feign concern while blasting his ac. 

Hi Rhea,

Yes it is my air conditioner. The installer replaced the circuit board thinking it was that, it was shipped from California so came in last week, but it didn’t work. They are now going to replace the blower as soon as the new piece comes in. I have been harassing my contractor to resolve this ASAP.  It’s set to go off only when the apartment reaches 85 so it must have gotten really bad in the apartment today. I am on them on a daily basis and they have been fantastic with everything throughout construction so I know they are focused.

Best,

Pat 

What a fucker I thought. Simultaneous to my efforts, residents started commenting about their surprise in the temporary sharp rise of our monthly coop fees. Essentially everyone was being forced to pay $6000 for interior renovations of the lobby. For the rich people in the building, who happened to run the board since they had the most voting power, this was a pittance. To the other residents, it was an economic hardship. They wondered out loud to me how it would be possible to rein in the coop board’s powers. The power had corrupted the board, and they were spending lavishly on building projects. When the coop ran its yearly elections, it was no surprise  the same board (owners of the largest apartments) was re-elected. 

I don’t like to follow rules, but when pressed with difficult situations, I try to use them to my advantage. Out of desperation, I contacted the management company to look at the legal charter for the coop to see if there were any regulations regarding elections. The first 20 pages of the charter listed captivating topics such as  laundry rules, sublet rules, noise rules, pet rules, etc.. generally how to be a good neighbor. 

On the last page was a innocuous clause that stated no member of the board shall be eligible as a board member more than 4 years in a row. I emailed the management company asking the names of all those on the  roster of the coop board for the past 4 years to see if some board members could be ruled ineligible. I heard no response so I assumed the elections were settled.... until a couple weeks later when Pat sent out a mass email singling me out and ‘thanking me’ for pointing out the clause in the bylaws. Apparently when I asked for the roster, lawyers were consulted behind the scenes to discuss the validity of the elections. The elections were invalidated as 3 of the board members including Pat had served more that 4 years straight. Pat sent out the following email to explain the situation.

Dear Shareholders,

We wanted to share with you something I have just learned and discussed with the coop attorney.  We have discovered an amendment to the Co-op By-laws from 2009 which states that board members cannot serve for more than four terms in a five year period.  Thank you to Luke for continuing to ask if there were term limits – those of us who moved in after 2009 were unaware of this amendment.

Our co-op attorney has pointed out that the amendment states that a “majority” of shareholders approved the amendment in 2009.  However, amendments like this must be approved by 2/3 of the shareholders, not just a majority.  If you would like to run please let us know by Wednesday, July 3rd so that your name can be included with the proxy.  We would like to have at least 66-2/3% of the shareholders vote in favor of this amendment to remove all doubt its enforce-ability, so it is important that you return your proxy or appear in person at the meeting to vote.

Thank you.

Pat

Again, I was cast in this sneaky light, trying to upend the elections based on a technicality of the charter’s bylaws by asking questions outside the board. I started talking to residents in the building. I needed votes desperately. Even the 90 year old recent widower Lucy upstairs was fair game. I asked her how her husband Mike was doing since I hadn’t seen him In a while. I felt uncomfortable and bad when she told me how she had cancer and survived but her husband died of prostate cancer and that he couldn’t come to terms with his end. I offered to help her while she was away.. I did all that I could to get elected.

Lucy,

It was nice speaking with you the other day. If you ever need help, just let me know how I can be of assistance. Betty gave me your email.  A couple people have asked me to run for the board. I was wondering if you could use your proxy votes to support my bid. I’d like to run on fiscal responsibility (avoiding assessments whenever possible), and transparency in the decision making process. To that end, I’m helping Tom with the Coop House Bulletin and I’m opposed to any slated cellar furniture upgrades, etc... 

Luke

A few days ago multiple residents started contacting me and asking if I’d run for the board. They thought I was brave for my (inadvertent)  election invalidation efforts and pledged their proxy votes for me. All my efforts to act in a  discreet manner have backfired and  I somehow managed to find myself the accidental leader of a coop coup, the face of the resistance. I was elected to the board and was congratulated for my efforts.

The first meeting of elected officials was held on Matt’s lavish roof deck. It was a beautiful dusk meeting, with an amazing sunset. Everyone was playing nice and getting a feel for each other. Most matters concerned daily operations of the building. But then we talked about Pat's AC unit and how his construction renovation was coming to an end. They said he was due a $70k deposit for completing work. My ears perked up. My first act in office was to put forth an uncomfortable idea. Most people try to avoid rocking the boat when they first meet... not me. Months of frustration culminated in these words coming out of my mouth, “Whenever contractors perform deficient work, we withhold pay so they rectify the errors. We should withhold Pat’s deposit till he fixed his AC” I think the board members were shocked to hear my proposal. to my surprise the board members ratified it despite the warm sunset.

Unfortunately the withheld did nothing to quell Pat’s use of the ac. He would in fact, keep it on while he was out all day, thumbing his nose at complaints and withheld deposit. He was rich enough it didn’t matter. He hired acousticians to make measurements inside other people’s apartments, as if doubting people’s complaints and then did no action to remedy the situation.

3 months later in a weekly basement meeting regarding building matters....

I began thinking political office had not been as glamorous as I thought it would be. Every month I waste spend 2 hours of my time looking attentive and interested attending coop board meetings. I’ve developed a skill at meetings to surf of my iphone semi-discreetly and daydreaming. When I get called on for an opinion, I feign deep thought and ask “can you repeat that question?” 
“Luke, Should the superintendent get a raise?”

“No,” I reply. I can still remember the time the super got mad at me for making a mess during renovations 10 years ago. I’m a man of many grudges. Then I retreat back into my inner thoughts. Originally I petitioned the coop to re-examine the election process to contest the board president’s airplane turbine air conditioning unit. Now I’ve come to realize the board is just comprised of selfish pricks like me, each with their own self interests. Lola doesn’t want packages stored under the stair cause she thinks a predator could lurk there and pounce on her as she exits her 1st floor apartment. Samantha wants her bathroom ceiling perennially patched up and fixed from water leak damage. Kyle wants to impose a task list for the superintendent to make sure he’s not slacking off. John wants to ensure fiscal responsibility. And Matt, the current president, wants to bring everyone together, rearrange the bike room and sing kumbaya in peace and love. 6 people ran for positions... 3 incumbents were denied positions because they had served too long. One person, Betty, has ran several times for the board but has never been elected because of perceived mental instability. Legend has it, her ex husband used to own the whole goddamn building. It’s quite a fall from grace as she now lives there with her grown son. Tan and blond and probably formerly very glamorous her leathery skin belies her former stature. I like Betty, she speaks her mind and let’s the words fly.

When the board president singled me out and asked me privately whether we should grant an exception to the noise levels (50 dB instead of 45 dB) of his AC unit, it didn’t seem right. I set up a white noise machine used to keep babies asleep  in the room at 50 dB to see whether it was tolerable. It sounded  like the ocean waves or static TV, but was still annoying compared to silence. 

I knew I had to form a coalition. Politics is about perception. If people single me out as a lone complainer of noise, they would categorize me as the demanding crazy person. 

I didn’t respond to Matt’s request for a few days. I emailed another board member Sam who I thought would support my efforts but she didn’t respond. My coalition was not going anywhere. Then I noticed Betty was fighting the exorbitant fees associated with changing countertops in her kitchen ($400 processing fee + $800 plumber fee) over email exchanges back and forth with the board. I decided the time was ripe for gathering impassioned allies. Like me, she lives on my side of the shaft but 2 floors down from Pat’s air conditioner. Like me, she prefers to sleep with her windows open for cross ventilation during the summer. 2 nights ago I knocked on her door.

She was on the phone but invited me into her lair. The apartment is decorated in 1970s style with a living room ceiling with piano shaped curved soffits that probably looked cool when people still listened to disco. Like a true politician I pretended to listen to her concerns carefully. “What’s going on with your countertop? I read your email to the board today... what seems to be the problem?”

Betty email #1  Would you please send me the info on the additional requirements for my kitchen.  I want to get it to my contractor ASAP. As noted in the contract just the sink will be removed and replaced to accommodate the new counter top.  No pipes will be removed.

Thanks so much.

She then told me all she wanted to do was disconnect her sink, change her counter top and reconnect her sink. Easy enough I thought, but the managing agent wanted a $400 processing fee for the work and a licensed plumber to disconnect and connect her faucet (another $800). Betty and me, we’re like the poor people in the apartment building... the working class non-banker types. Paying  $1200 for nothing didn’t sit well with her considering the countertop slab doesn’t even cost that much. I sympathized with her and told her these rules are ridiculous. She loved every word I was feeding her. I even told her “why don’t you just install the countertops yourself without telling the board?” “I should have done that,” she said. Now that she was captivated I egged her on “you can sneak the counter slab in a box as if it was a Christmas present or something ... just wrap it in cardboard” “that’s a great idea, yes yes!” Now i was on a roll.... so I started tapping into class warfare tactics... “you know these rich people who live here... they think they can do anything they want. they don’t give a shit about us” at this point Betty's gray cat was about to pounce on me. In a stern voice she said “Clio don’t even think about it!” I was thinking her cat was going to dig it’s claws into me, so I stood up and asked to see her kitchen. I felt sorry for Betty. Her cabinets were dilapidated and the lighting was dim. All she could afford was to change her countertop, but with all the fees she wouldn’t be able to even afford a countertop. At this point I tapped into her helplessness. “You know it pisses me off. You’re not doing much, you’re not bothering anybody and they’re trying to make you pay all these ridiculous fees.. meanwhile Pat combined 3 apartments and blasted his loud AC at us all summer. You know what happened? Matt singled me out and asked whether I would compromise and approve Mr. Pat's air conditioner. It would be 50 decibels but still higher than the threshold of 45... these rich guys think they can do whatever they want and not comply with city laws and coop regulations. What nerve!” Now Betty looked like a crazy cat lady unleashed... foaming at the mouth ready to take down the bourgeois. I asked if she could see if she could get Sam to side with me about the AC since I hadn’t heard a reply from him. She headed out the door with me to talk to Sam. The next day, I saw a barrage of emails spewing vitriol and hate. One more unhinged than the last, the crazy cat lady went off the rails....

Betty email #2 Regarding this ridiculous requirement, all I can tell you is over the past three years I and the rest of the shareholders in this building put up with numerous major renovations on the second floor and the fifth floor that lasted well over a year.  In that time, the residents who were doing these renovations were fortunate enough not to have to live through it as they moved out of the building while the renovation was in process.  The rest of us had to live through dust in the building,  dirty floors, and noxious smells.  My countertop replacement is nowhere near the renovations that have taken place in this building.  I am appalled at the hoops that I have to jump through to get a simple countertop.

Betty

Betty email #3 Hi Matt, Do you mind telling me what all this crap is about? I do not intend to pay a cent to Veritas management for processing. Tell me what is she processing —-taking papers from one side of the desk and moving it to the other side of the desk.This is not a major renovation and I don’t intend to pay a cent to anyone this is absolute extortion. I should have done this job without telling anyone! You can have someone else take care of your garden and take care of your potted planters.

Also I want to know exactly when Pat’s air conditioner is going to be taken care of as I don’t intend to be disturbed by that sound in the summertime.

Betty

Now that Betty had brought up Pat’s AC I followed up with an ‘even keeled’ email regarding the AC:

All,

I set up a 50 dB noise simulation in my apartment to see what it sounds like. It’s quite noticeable. I’ve never had issues with sounds in the shaft till this year. This summer I had our kids sleep on the street side rooms with us to avoid the sound nuisance. In all my measurements I made over the summer, the baseline never went up to 50 dB. My noise measurements were quite accurate because when the acoustician came, he essentially confirmed 60 dB for the AC unit and 45 for the baseline. I think codes and rules are written for a reason and people should follow them to be good respectful neighbors.

Thanks,

Luke

2 days later Matt, who I helped with the graphic design of the building bulletin meant to foster community, transparency and bring people together, wrote an email asking whether I could get this crazy cat lady off his nuts....

Hi Sam and Luke,

It is a real pain to renovate an apartment in a co-op for a reason. This is an old building and almost any work is bound to impact neighbors, which is why we have a review process. If the work is not done right, 2B will be impacted. The demolition will impact the other residents on the 3rd floor. If she is touching water & drainage I think a plumber needs to be involved.  

If you think that we should make an exception to rules or processing fees for Betty, we can discuss as a board. Otherwise, I do not want to waste anyone's time, and I will tell her that she must work with Veritas. 

For the most part, people in the co-op are respectful and civil in my experience. I think her behavior--emails like this one, her tone at board meetings and shareholder meetings--are detrimental to the co-op. It's confrontational, personal, and wastes time, which then discourages people from being on the board or going to shareholder events. 

It seems as though she is more trusting of you than of me. If/when you talk to her, can you suggest that she avoid the angry demanding emails? I am certainly not out to mistreat her or take advantage of her.

Thanks for any help!

Matt

Little did Matt know that I had worked behind the scenes to drive the crazy cat lady to raging rants towards him, used her to urge Sam’s support, and provide me a fellow petitioner to launch my methodical legal approach resolving mr Pat’s acoustic transgressions. Later that day, Sam wrote to the board...

Dear board,

I believe it would be a grave mistake from the board to deviate and accept anything other than the mandated by law decibel levels. 

Sam

Mission accomplished. Coalition formed.