Reading Jimmy Breslin reminds me of the New York of my youth. Back then the city wasn't only dirty and dangerous, it was corrupt. Bribery and patronage were pervasive. In fact public corruption was so entrenched that politicians openly joked about it.
My favorite line is from powerful Brooklyn boss Meade Esposito. Responding to a reporter's question about one patronage scandal Esposito said, "Hey, I didn't go into politics to become a poor man."
Today is Abraham Lincoln's birthday (1809). He was, of course, our 16th President until assassinated in office in 1865.
I'm not normally a jingoistic man but admit feeling intense pride when visiting the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C. The size of the structure, its humanity strike a deep chord in me. If you've never been there, go. It's viscerally moving.
Eight-score and two years ago Lincoln delivered his famous Gettysburg Address. Its occasion was the dedication of the Gettysburg National Cemetery. The Cemetery is located on the site of a Civil War battleground where many soldiers, from both sides, fought and died.
Written on the back of an envelope during the train ride there, Lincoln's words echo through the ages. Anyone unconvinced of the power of language should read these words. Here's an excerpt from the Address:
"The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated [this ground], far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the Earth."
Jimmy Breslin was the best newspaperman of the 20th Century. He achieved fame through trenchant writing and uninvited circumstance. Breslin's prose plumbed and found the emotional truth of events. Despite using simple words his newspaper columns were poetic in the best sense: he presented facts, facts, facts, carefully selecting those which described the heart of a story.
Breslin viewed life from the perspective of the common man. One characteristic column -- which became so famous it's now taught in journalism school -- was Jimmy's report from President John F. Kennedy's funeral. Hundreds of reporters from around the world covered the story conventionally. Not Jimmy. He went to the laborer who made $3 an hour digging the hole for Kennedy's grave. Breslin interviewed the gravedigger and wrote about his perspective. It was genius.
Jimmy Breslin was born in Queens in 1928. He devoted six decades to chronicling New York's power brokers, mobsters, cops, thieves and ordinary citizens. After starting at the Long Island Press (a newspaper I read in my youth) Breslin wrote for the New York Herald Tribune where he met fellow-journalist Tom Wolfe. Tom and Jimmy were as opposite as possible but earned the other's deep respect. Wolfe, a sharp-dressed boulevardier with genteel education and effulgent vocabulary, was a vivid contrast to Jimmy's slovenly appearance. Breslin came from, wrote for and lived among New York's working class. Wolfe saw authenticity in that. After the Herald Tribune folded, Tom and Jimmy joined and wrote for New York magazine. Jimmy later went off to the New York Daily News and after that, to Long Island's newspaper, Newsday.
What attracted Tom and Jimmy to each other was how hard they worked. Both hit the streets, conducted multiple interviews and did the labor necessary to "get the story right." Both prized detail and truth. Both revered journalism as a consecrated mission. Despite coming from radically different backgrounds, both united and walked in the same professional direction. This explains why my appreciation for Tom Wolfe spills over into respect for Jimmy Breslin.
Fifty years ago New York City was dominated by the "Son of Sam" murders. At the time the City was dirty, derelict and dangerous. I remember walking in Times Square during the 1970s sensing palpable peril. New York's atmosphere was accurately captured by Martin Scorsese in his classic film, "Taxi Driver."
David Berkowitz, who called himself "Son of Sam", was a serial killer. He murdered for no reason. His victims were women with long brown hair (and sometimes their boyfriends, if present). "Sam" was intelligent but insane. For two years everyone in New York was arrantly fixated and afraid of Sam. The randomness of his killing left everyone feeling vulnerable. Thousands of women cut their hair short or dyed it bright colors, desperately trying to avoid being shot. Wig stores reported selling out their entire inventories.
Breslin's paper, the New York Daily News, covered the story extensively and relentlessly. Since Jimmy was their best reporter everyone turned to his daily column for updates on the police investigation.
After the killings started Sam sent a handwritten letter to the police. He then sent another letter directly to Breslin in which offered admiration for Jimmy's coverage of the story. The Daily News gave that letter to the police who verified its authenticity from a fingerprint. The paper published the murderer's letter along with a reply to him from Breslin.
Experts believed Sam wanted public recognition for his crimes and that's why he contacted Jimmy. Breslin's response was to tell the killer that the only safe option was to turn himself in, either to Jimmy personally or to the police. Breslin told Sam he could call Jimmy at the newspaper since "[t]he only people I don’t answer are bill collectors."
This issue of the Daily News sold the most copies in the newspaper's history.
The killings continued. After a lucky break (discovery of an incriminating parking ticket) police solved the case and arrested Sam. He pled guilty to numerous murders and spent every day since then in prison. (He's still alive.) Breslin died in 2017 at age 88.
Jimmy Breslin wrote literally thousands of newspaper columns. Some have been collected in books. Breslin just received his first biography which I highly recommend ("Jimmy Breslin: The Man Who Told the Truth," by Richard Esposito). He was also the subject of an Emmy-winning documentary ("Breslin and Hamill: Deadline Artists" [HBO/MAX, 2018]).
Few of us leave marks as indelible as this writer. Looking back at his work is inspiring.
Today is the Chinese/Lunar New Year! One of the most important holidays in Asia it inaugurates the new "Year of the Snake." So stop absent-mindedly writing "Year of the Dragon" on your checks. :)
New Year festivals have many traditions, my favorite of which is to eat dumplings. They're a symbol of health and prosperity; plus they taste good. There are several exceptional dumpling restaurants on Long Island; the best is near me in Syosset. Their dumplings explode with bold flavor and sumptuous warmth.
For the first time, schools are closed throughout New York State today in honor of this holiday. It's customary for adults to give younger adults and children "red envelopes" containing money. If you want one from me you'll have to wear something red and show some interest in foreign culture.
May everything you wish come true!
I stop at Starbucks as reward for walking a mile and enjoy several of their offerin. Like the "Americano" (espresso and hot water) and "Impossible Breakfast Sandwich." Eager to expand my favorites I leapt at a chance to try two new options, one a sandwich (good!), the other a drink (not for me).
The "Spicy Felafel Pocket" is tasty with nice flavor and medium heat. My only complaint is its small size. I need two of them to be sated. The sandwich is described as "vegan-friendly" which means it waves at vegetarians when they walk by. :)
The new drink is "Cortado." It's espresso (50%) and steamed milk (dairy/oat) (50%). Despite being served in a small cup (8 oz.) the Cortado packs a powerful punch of caffeine: it contains THREE shots of espresso. (My Americano has only one shot.) After drinking the deceptively potent Cortado my heart raced all day like a rabbit on speed.
As we bikers say, YMMV (your mileage may vary).
Public libraries help many of us. My local library, threatened with budget cuts, is inviting patrons to share stories of library experiences to illustrate their value. I answered the call with a paean to my library. It confirmed the piece will be included in its next publication.
Here's a copy of that short essay:
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = X
For six decades the South Huntington Public Library has been an invaluable source of education, entertainment and companionship. Moreover, at pivotal moments in my life the library played a critical role in providing assistance unavailable elsewhere. I am deeply grateful for public libraries; they are effulgent institutions in our society.
When I was young (8-10 years old) I knew I was different from other children. Different in a fundamental way but which was not well-known. There was no public discussion of my situation and adults I questioned conceded confusion. So I turned to my local library which had a shelf full of books on the subject. After reading every book on that shelf I had a better understanding of who I am, of the existence of others sharing my condition, and of the then-current state of scientific knowledge.
My parents were immigrants and our family was working class. We had no money for luxuries like books so I learned to ask to be taken to the local library where I could explore its wide range of publications. The diversity of magazines alone astonished me and opened doors in my mind. Art! Adventure! Archaeology! And those were just the "A"s! I consumed books voraciously and was the only child on our block whose mother complained I read too much. "Put down that book and go outdoors!"
I continued patronizing the library throughout my adulthood. During a 42-year career as a litigation attorney I frequently researched law at the public library and investigated facts in its reference publications.
Last year I turned 65 and was stricken by a sudden attack of glaucoma; it destroyed 80% of my eyesight. Coping with unexpected vision-loss I again looked to my local library -- and found help. Now facing two obstacles (visual impairment and inability to drive) I use an e-reader. I discovered reading on a Kindle is easier for me than taking in a printed book due to the electronic device's capacity for adjusting brightness and word-size. Plus the Libby program enables me to borrow e-books without having to travel physical distance. That matters now.
Finally, I've attended several musical concerts at the South Huntington Public Library since losing vision. These events enrich my life. The comfortable library setting, friendly patrons and accommodating library staff enable me to enjoy live music close to home.
No social institution has done more to benefit me than the local public library.
