Chronicles of a Cub Reporter

Sunday, September 25, 2005

As Promised

Yes, yes, yes, I'm behind on my posts (as I am with pretty much everything in my life). But I did, at last, get around to revisiting some of my past RWI stories and incorporating Professors Padwe's and Cunningham's edits so that I could give you a sense of what I've been writing outside the blog. So here's the first neighborhood story I did -- a portrait of a block.

The peninsula known as Hunts Point, due north of Rikers Island, sits with its back turned to the Bruckner Boulevard and the rest of the south Bronx. Its face juts out defiantly into the water, where it looks to be in a stare-down with College Point, across the expansive East River in Queens. It keeps a watchful eye on the prisoners at Rikers Island, like a pitcher keeping tabs on the runner at first base. Even on a map, Hunts Point looks to be nursing a grudge.

It could have been a contender.

With several miles of waterfront, Hunts Point might well have become a vibrant recreational area. Instead it is predominantly industrial, home to a vast food-distribution center, a fertilizer plant, a water pollution control plant, and a prison barge. Only 12.1% of the area is residential, compared with 33.3% for the Bronx overall, according to Bronx Community Board 2 and the Department of City Planning. Hunts Point is dominated by three categories of land use: industrial and manufacturing, transportation and utility, and vacant land. Together, they account for more than 50% of the area, more than four times the proportion for the borough as a whole.

If Hunts Point is incongruous at its shoreline edges, it is equally so at its center, where a 2.49-acre park sits virtually unused. At the park’s heart is a cemetery where the dead truly do rest in peace, cut off from visitors as much by circumstance as by the iron fence that surrounds their graves.

Joseph Rodman Drake Park sits on land acquired in the late 17th century by neighborhood namesake Thomas Hunt, according to the Parks Department. Hunt’s mansion, the Grange, was a haven of sorts for the young Drake, a businessman-cum-physician and noted poet. When Drake died of tuberculosis in 1820 at age 25, he was interred in the Hunt family burial ground at the Grange. The property was acquired by the Parks Department in 1909 and was dedicated in Drake’s name in 1915.

The trapezoid-shaped park is bounded on the north by busy Oak Point Avenue, on the west by Longfellow Avenue, and on the south by Drake Park South. Hunts Point Avenue provides a diagonal border to the east.

It is a most improbable park. The trucks, lumbering by in a steady parade, seem to outnumber the trees. Pigeons and squirrels have the run of the place, and an old man encourages them with countless handfuls of peanuts. Stray dogs wander through. Urban wildlife abounds, but the park is nearly devoid of people.

Not a single residential building fronts Joseph Rodman Drake Park. Instead, there are two auto-supply businesses, a bank, a junkyard, a papaya importer, a recycling operation, and a sheet-metal shop.

Three recent visits, all in warm weather, yielded fewer than a dozen sightings of actual parkgoers. During a five-hour period on a pleasantly sunny recent Tuesday, very few people ventured off the concrete into the park itself: the pigeon feeder, a man asleep on a flattened cardboard box, a family of three sitting on beach chairs with ice cream cones, and a local businessman playing fetch with his golden retriever.

The previous Sunday at noon, the park was all but abandoned. The week before, six men played a halfhearted game of softball for an audience of one. Another group eschewed the park and took batting practice in the street.

It is no great surprise that the park is used so infrequently. For one thing, it is located in one manufacturing zone and is on the border of another. Just about all of Hunts Point is zoned for manufacturing except for a residential district adjacent to Bruckner Boulevard, the midpoint of which is six blocks away.

In addition, the park lies within a census tract with a population of just 133, or 0.01% of the total population of the Bronx, according to the 2000 Census. The next closest census tract had a recorded population of only 439.

While the pool of probable parkgoers is especially small to begin with, there are several reasons why even the few area residents would choose to stay away. For one, the park lacks amenities of any kind. According to the posted Parks and Recreation Department sign, benches were installed along the park paths in 1953. Today, there are none. Four large tree stumps serve in their stead, and though the grass is mowed regularly, it is laced with broken glass.

Even if the seating were inviting, the park is not a place for quiet contemplation. On a recent afternoon, a persistent stream of trucks variously roared and rumbled past on Oak Point Avenue: a fire truck, an oil truck, pick-up trucks, a garbage truck, an armored car, delivery vans, a tow truck, SUVs, 18-wheelers and smaller tractor-trailers, plus the two- and three-axel varieties known to truck drivers as “straight jobs.”

The cemetery in the center of the park remains locked except when the Parks Department crew comes for its regular maintenance visit. Inside the iron gates lie approximately two dozen markers, some of which are only fragments. Two huge trees grace the northwest and southeast corners of the burial ground. The headstone for the park’s namesake is nowhere to be found.

Despite Joseph Rodman Drake’s literary gifts, the view from his park does not inspire poetry. Just across Hunts Point Avenue, an isosceles traffic island bears a Parks Department “Greenstreets” sign, yet on weekdays it is covered by mountains of clear plastic bags filled with beer and soda cans that spill onto the street from a sprawling recycling operation. In the other direction, at Alicea Auto Wreckers on Longfellow Avenue, tires in all sizes loom in piles outside the junkyard door. Overhead, the carcass of a red sedan dangled from a crane last week.

Nor does the park provide the soothing smells of blossoms or of fresh-mown grass. Instead, shifts in the wind bring with them a reminder that heavy industrial activity takes place nearby. A park sign dated May 2002 touts an Urban Silviculture Research and Education Project that “seeks to determine the effects that trees have on removing air pollutants.” For now, at least, they are no match for the rank odor that wafts through the park.

Walter Amaya, a 37-year-old Mack truck driver, waited in the shade of the park recently while workers unloaded his latest delivery further down the street. “They keep the park in good shape,” he said of the Parks Department.

The Parks Department rated the park “acceptable” for both cleanliness and overall condition after its most recent inspection, on July 5. On August 10, 2004, however, the park received an “unacceptable” rating for overall condition for the second time in 15 months. On Tuesday, the maintenance crew fanned out to collect litter with spiked sticks and made short work of the job, but trash marred the grass again just a few hours later.

“Even as the surrounding neighborhood has grown more industrial, the pastoral beauty of the Joseph Rodman Drake Park endures.” So says the Parks and Recreation Department sign, dated September 2000, that hangs on the cemetery gates. Perhaps those buried within would agree. The living appear to have voted with their feet.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Dilemma

Progress! I only stayed up until about 2AM or so to finisht the election piece. (Of course, I got back up at 7AM to polish it, but still.)

A little later in the morning, I went up to school to see Professor Padwe for office hours. He asked how things were going in general, and I told him that the Monday schedule and the commute were taking a much bigger toll than I had expected. He asked how much time I was spending commuting, and when I estimated 2-3 hours a day, he said that that was too much. Then he offered to let me change my beat to the Upper West Side.

I resisted -- I wanted to really challenge myself, and the UWS (where Zach and I lived, and where my parents currently live) would, I thought, be a real cop-out. Besides the fact that I know it so well, it's a very gentrified neighborhood, and I don't think it would yield the same kind of stories as, say, the South Bronx.

He told me to sleep on it over the weekend and let him know on Monday. Meanwhile, he said, I should stick with Hunts Point for the next assignment, a community-health story, because HP is rife with community-health issues (most notably asthma, but lots of other stuff as well). So I've got lots to think about.

I also had the second of five New Media classes tonight. We learned the basics of Dreamweaver, the web-publishing software, which was pretty fun. I have to say that the class is almost a vacation, although I imagine that at some point there will be some real work.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Wake-up Call

My phone rings at 8AM, and it's Professor Padwe. Given that the results of the primary are uncertain, he's changing the assignment -- we're now supposed to focus on and analyze the low turnout.

So I scramble around to try to find people to talk to about the turnout, and I set up an interview in the Bronx with the district manager of the Community Board that covers my neighborhood. And then I luck out and find an incredibly nice guy at FairVote to talk to me. FairVote is a national organization that, thank you very much, promotes voter turnout. Hooray!

Right before I find the incredibly nice guy at FairVote, Anthony Weiner shocks the city by conceding the election without waiting for the absentee ballots to be counted and the machine totals to be verified. This prompts another call from Prof. Padwe to make sure I knew about Weiner's concession (I did) and telling me that it didn't change the assigment (sigh of relief).

So then I talk to Incredibly Nice Guy, and I get so wrapped up in the conversation that I lose track of time (bad journalist, bad!) and realize that I will NEVER MAKE IT to the Bronx in time for my next interview at the Community Board. So I throw myself on Zach's mercy, and he heroically offers to drive me up there. In the zillion-degree heat (fun fact: our ancient car has no A/C). And did I mention that Bush is in town to address the scads of world leaders who have gathered at the U.N., effectively strangling traffic along the most obvious route from our house to the Bronx? So now we're basically in crazy-game-show mode, with Zach dodging and weaving and me furiously flipping through the road atlas to find an alternate route.

Of course, we get there about 20 minutes early (second sigh of relief). So I have the interview at the Community Board (very helpful) and then embark on the most challenging part of the assignment: finding people who were registered but did not vote yesterday.

How does one do this, you ask?

One stands at the exit/entrance to a subway station and accosts anyone who might possibly be of voting age in the vain hope that they might possibly stop and answer a bunch of personal questions. Fun!

And after all that, of course, I actually have to write the story.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Me and My Unlimited Metrocard

The main thing you need to know about my day today is this:

I took 10 subways and 4 buses.

That's because I had to go to the Bronx twice.

After the endless day I had yesterday, I knew I was not going to haul my ass up to Hunts Point when the polls opened at, ahem, 6AM. (Plus I wanted to vote and figured I'd have to do that in the morning or not at all.)

So I went up at lunchtime instead.

Guess what?

People in Hunts Point don't vote at lunchtime.

At all.

After an hour of stalking the polling place, I packed it in and went down to school to do some more research.

Then I went back up for the post-work "rush." It was pretty slow, but there were in fact real live voters. And I talked to them. Yes I did. I even talked to some in my ridiculously rusty Spanish. And I got phone numbers from seven(!) of them. (Prof. Padwe had suggested that we call them the following day, once the results were known, to get their reactions.)

Then I headed over to my folks' place to watch the returns on NY1 (the local cable channel, which Zach and I don't get because we have DirecTV). If you're not familiar with NYC election law, the key thing to know is that in a primary, the mayoral candidate needs 40% of the vote to avoid a runoff. And, well, the top vote-getter on Tuesday night, Fernando (Freddy) Ferrer, had 39.95%. I am not making this up.

[More background info for out-of-towners: This year's Democratic primary was effectively a four-way race, and until just before primary day, three of the four were in a statistical dead heat behind Ferrer, the front-runner. Then one of the three, Anthony Weiner (Congressman from Queens) started surging, and it looked like he might, in fact, force a runoff.]

I waited as long as I could to see what might unfold, until my folks (and my Aunt Ellie, who was visiting) were about to pass out from exhaustion, and finally went home a little before midnight.

Will there ever again be an election in which the results are known definitively that very night???

Monday, September 12, 2005

Monday, Monday

No news quiz today. (And after all that prognosticating!)

Instead, we spent all three hours of the drill writing obituaries. Professor Padwe had salvaged old files from the J-school's former morgue, and each of us was given a stack of brittle clippings to work from. I got controversial author Joe McGinniss, while other classmates wrote about the demises of Mikhail Baryshnikov, Geraldo Rivera, Luciano Pavarotti, and other famous folk.

Once again, I really stumbled in the drill. What I should have done, I now realize, was go straight to the internet to get the basic info on my guy, then go through the old clippings to round out the picture. Instead, I spent way too much time reading the items in the file and had to race to get some sort of coherent narrative together before time ran out. The guy wrote 10 books (including "The Selling of the American President" and "Fatal Vision"), topped the bestseller list at age 26, got into trouble for two different ethical lapses, had some personal travails, and then scored a comeback. Oh, and did I mention that he just happened to be a co-columnist with Prof. Padwe early in his career? And that Padwe offered to let me interview him for the obit? That's what you call a gift, ladies and gentlemen. And what did I do? Looked it straight in the mouth (aka completely ran out of time and had no chance to get what I'm sure would have been a juicy quote).

So my obit sucked -- it was both incomplete and about 250 words shy of the assigned length.

Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

In our seminar later in the afternoon, we found out that our next assignment was to do an analysis of the mayoral primary (taking place the following day). More on that later. We also had a really interesting discussion about objectivity, led by our adjunct professor, Brent Cunningham. Cunningham is the managing editor of the Columbia Journalism Review, and he authored a piece called "Re-thinking Objectivity" a couple of years ago that was fairly controversial.

After all that (6 hours of class, if you're counting), my RWII (aka elective) class started at 6:30PM. It's called The Art of the Profile and is taught by John Bennet, a senior editor at The New Yorker. Among other assignments for the first class, we were supposed to write a query letter proposing a subject for a profile. For whatever reason, I had a hard time coming up with someone and didn't write the query letter until Monday afternoon.

So -- again, if you're counting -- by this point in the day, I have done a completely intense news drill, had a three-hour seminar, and written a query letter. And I'm expecting that the first class with Bennet will be one of those easygoing, get-to-know-you affairs.

Wrong.

After the obligatory round of introductions ("tell us your name and why you took this class"), he got right down to business. We'd been assigned to read a profile of a musical duo called Gillian Welch that appeared in the magazine last year. (Yes, I did the reading. Even though I read the piece the first time around. Great piece, by the way.) Next thing we know, he pulls out a DVD of them performing and has us watch two songs, then write a profile based on what we saw. Right then. As in, you know, my SECOND drill of the day. And in case you're wondering, this one sucked, too.

What did we get to do next?

Go around the room and read our pieces aloud, followed by a couple of sentences of critique from Bennet. (By the way, he told us explicitly NOT to call him Professor Bennet. We're actually supposed to call him John, but bear with me. I'm kind of formal sometimes.) This is pretty standard fare in writing workshops (of which I am a veteran), but I don't think any of us was expecting it. What was particularly painful was the fact that the woman who happened to go first had written a great piece. It's one thing to read your sucky piece out loud after some other sucky ones, but it's a very different matter when pretty much everyone ahead of you has somehow produced literary prose with amazing images, rich physical descriptions, and the kind of musical detail that eludes someone like me (a verifiable musical illiterate). And if you think I'm exaggerating the suckiness of my piece, let me just say that Bennet said NOTHING after I'd read it. That, I can assure you, is not a good sign. That's a sign of not wanting to cream someone in the very first class.

Oh, and there was one more surprise. Those query letters we did? After going around the room (lots of that tonight) describing the person we wanted to profile, Bennet said, "OK, so turn those in next Monday." My first two-deadline week. Yippee.

Did I mention that the class ran a full HOUR longer than scheduled, meaning we got out at 9:30PM? Translation: home at 10:30PM, eating dinner at almost 11:00PM.

Quotes of the day:

The one bias of journalism is coherence. -- John Bennet

The truth is you guys have no street cred at all. -- John Bennet

We don't buy newspapers and magazines to feel depressed about the world. -- John Bennet

Chronology is your friend. -- John Bennet

The best writing doesn't have transitions. -- John Bennet

Sunday, September 11, 2005

Prognostications

My study guide for tomorrow's news quiz (again, in no particular order):


  • Brian Ellner

  • Neal Shapiro

  • Bruce Ratner

  • Jon Corzine & Douglas Forrester

  • Lenora Fulani

  • Kofi Annan

  • Moussa Arafat

  • Arnold Schwarzenegger

  • Tal Afar

  • Barbara Bush

  • Thad Allen

  • "The Plum Blossoms"

  • Henry Luce III

  • Yulia Tymoshenko

  • Chai Soua Vang

  • Samuel Berger

  • P. Edwin Compass III

  • Mary Landrieu

  • Jose Padilla



Wish me luck. . . .

Friday, September 09, 2005

The End of Week 5

For the record: I filed my story at 5AM this morning and then took advantage of my parents' hospitality to get a whopping three hours of sleep.

On the positive side, that's up from less than two hours of sleep before last week's deadline and just one hour the week before.

Hmm.

So if things stay on track, I should start getting full nights of pre-deadline sleep sometime around October 14. (Stay tuned.)

Some random notes about the day:

  • It's amazing how many nice people you meet after midnight in the J-school computer lab.

  • Our business cards finally arrived today. I feel so legit!

  • The facebooks also came out today. Oh, the horror.

  • On my way out of the building, I bumped into a part-time student who was trying to turn in her master's project at 5AM before catching a plane to Seattle. Of course, the relevant deans' offices were locked, and she was contemplating leaving the envelopes (three copies) outside the locked mailroom. I offered to turn it in for her later in the morning (I had to come back to drop off a copy of my story with our RWI adjunct professor). She thought about it for a second and then accepted. I have to say, I'm not sure I would have done the same thing in her shoes -- you know, give the be-all, end-all of my j-school career to a complete stranger in the middle of the night. (Not to worry -- I dropped off the project and then sent her an e-mail letting her know that she could exhale.)

  • I had my first New Media skills class last night -- poorly timed given my deadline, but lots of fun all the same. We learned super-basic Photoshop skills. By the end of the 5-week class, we will each have created our own personal website. Apparently this is a key tool for showcasing work once the job hunt rolls around next spring. (Yes, yes, I will post the URL once it's done.)

  • I stayed awake almost the entire day on the three measly hours of sleep, except for the time that I nodded off on a very seductive couch in the student lounge. I really, really hope I didn't snore.

  • We're not getting our next assignment until Monday. You cannot imagine the relief at having three full days without deadline pressure (and without the attendant stress that comes with trying and failing to get a jump on reporting the next story).

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Schlep, Schlep, Schlep

This morning I headed out to the furthest part of Hunts Point to tour the warehouse of the Food Bank for New York City. It was a LONG ride (or several successive long rides). In the end, I'm not sure it was entirely worth the trip. (Especially since I ended up walking a good mile on the way back -- in the broiling sun -- because I didn't realize that the bus didn't run in both directions on the street outside the warehouse.) Then I had an interview at another food pantry, after which I raced around the neighborhood trying to track the others. (No such luck.)

I headed back to school in time to have what has become my fall-back food option: a slice of broccoli pizza. (I delude myself into thinking that the green-veggie component elevates it to some kind of health food.)

Then I went to the very first New Media class -- my Skills class this semester. It's only five weeks long, but it's 2-1/2 hours a pop. We learn Photoshop and Dreamweaver and walk out of class with our very own websites, which is supposed to come in very handy when job-search time rolls around. Of course, tonight it's hard to concentrate on all the cool stuff you can do with Photoshop since my poverty story is due in a little over 12 hours.

When class ended, I headed upstairs to one of the computer labs and settled in for a long night.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Not Enough Hours in the Day

Remember how I admonished myself not to start writing stories the night before they're due?

Well, my next story is due at 10AM on Friday, and so far I have not written a single word.

Ugh.

I spent all day on my beat today, going from one interview to another -- a total of almost six hours of talking to nine different people.

When I got home, I spent hours sifting through research I did over the weekend. (See, I was planning ahead.)

With all that, I still don't have my lede.

Did I mention the assignment? It's to put a human face on the recent Census report showing that NYC is the only major metropolitan area to experience an increase in poverty since last year. Ideally, I'm supposed to find a person or family living below the poverty line and willing to talk to me about it.

Um, that's not exactly the easiest thing to do.

Which is why I'll be going back to the Bronx tomorrow morning. First thing.

Oh, and I have a new class tomorrow night from 7:00-9:30PM, which means I'll get home around 10:30PM, if I'm lucky.

So, yeah, it's not looking like I'm going to be getting a whole lot of sleep tomorrow night.

And, by the way, Agassi just took the third set after dropping the first two to James Blake in the U.S. Open quarterfinals. I really, really, really want to see the end of the match, but that's just asking for even more trouble. . . .

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

So Much for Prognosticating

I called some, but by no means all, of the items on this week's RWI news quiz. Here it is:


  1. John Roberts

  2. Eva Moskowitz & Scott Stringer

  3. The Bridge of Imams

  4. C. Ray Nagin

  5. Michael Chertoff

  6. Michael Brown

  7. Kathleen Blanco

  8. What did Dennis Hastert say last week?

  9. Preservation Hall

  10. Dan Bartlett



I was off on some details but was at least able to identify them all. Professor Padwe told us that if we did well enough on the news quizzes, he'd stop giving them. We'll see. . . .

Monday, September 05, 2005

Predictions

We have our next news quiz tomorrow. Here are my predictions, in no particular order, of what will appear on the quiz:


  • August Wilson

  • Beslan, Russia

  • Kenneth Clarke

  • Rafik Hariri

  • Michael Chertoff or Michael Brown

  • Ray Nagin or Lt. Gen. Russel Honoré

  • Robert Chambers

  • Lawrence Greenfield or Bunnatine Greenhouse or Susan Wood

  • Matthew or Crystal Koso

  • James Blake

  • Kodee Kennings

  • Jim DeFede

  • Whaleed Khaled

  • Jude Wanniski

  • Aimma Bridge

  • Brendan Loy



At least that's the list I'm studying from. . . .

Sanity Strikes

J-school is completely overwhelming.

I’ve still got this tendinitis/repetitive-strain injury/who knows what going on.

I want to keep up this blog.

So . . .

I’m going to fill in the blanks with short entries for the days I’ve missed and probably stick to a low word count for new entries for the foreseeable future.

Hope that’s cool by you.

Friday, September 02, 2005

Looking Ahead

Today we were able (aka required) to take two different "mini-courses" designed to give us a preview of what will be available in the spring ('cause that's what we're thinking about three weeks into the fall semester). I chose Science Reporting and Investigative Reporting.

Science Reporting was taught by a brand-new faculty member named Jonathan Weiner. Turns out he's the author of "The Tangle," a very cool piece that I vividly remember from The New Yorker. Prof. Weiner does what I think I want to do: write books and other long-form pieces of journalism, although by the end of the class, I was pretty sure I didn't want to take the class he's going to teach in the spring, mainly because it's going to be newspaper-style writing, and I think I'll be all set with that after RWI. So it was time well spent, I guess -- it was a pretty efficient way to rule out one of the options for next semester.

Investigative Reporting was taught by a long-time adjunct instructor and even-longer-time Village Voice writer named Wayne Barrett. It was a great mini-course because it was exactly that: a distillation of a much longer course into easily digestible highlights. I don't know if I'll take his class in the spring (depends on whether I get into Sam Freedman's book-writing seminar), but I'm definitely interested in investigative reporting in general, and I think I have a natural affinity for it. Prof. Padwe used to teach the Investigative Reporting class before he semi-retired, and I know it would have been great to take it with him. I'll just have to see how it plays out.

Meanwhile, the three-day weekend has begun!

Quotes of the day:

This is not easy to do no matter what. -- Jonathan Weiner

If you can write about science well, you can write about anything. -- Jonathan Weiner

All good investigative reporting starts with reasonable hypotheses. -- Wayne Barrett

We are detectives for the people. -- Wayne Barrett

Most investigative reporting in the U.S. is local investigative reporting. -- Wayne Barrett

Write when you have something -- don't wait to write until you have everything. -- Wayne Barrett

You can always find another story but can't reclaim a reputation. -- Wayne Barrett

It's remarkable what you can learn from public records. -- Wayne Barrett

Never lose a sense of outrage. -- Wayne Barrett

Thursday, September 01, 2005

And On to the Next (Or Not)

Prof. Padwe called an impromptu RWI class today, mainy to give us our next assignment. This year's report on nationwide poverty rates just came out, and it was not a good year for New York City. One in five city residents (that's 1.6 million people) were living below the poverty line last year. That's just stunning.

Our assignment is to put a face on this story -- to find a person or family who is struggling. (We're all trying to figure out how to do that without stopping random people on the street and saying, "Hi, are you poor?")

I turned in my candidate profile, having gotten two whole hours of sleep. If last week's lesson was to not start writing the night before a story is due, this week's certainly was to start reporting a story as soon as it is assigned. But did I follow that advice? No.

Instead, I went over to my parents' place, ordered in lunch, and then took a nap. And later I went out to dinner with my folks and various aunts, uncles, and cousins who were in town for a family wedding.

I made exactly zero progress on the story.

Quote of the day:

Take the figures and turn them into human beings. -- Prof. Padwe