Alphabet City [“A Centennial Book”, Reprint 2020 ed.] 9780520320055

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A CENTENNIAL

BOOK

One hundred books published between 1990 and 1995 bear this special imprint of the University of California Press We have chosen each Centennial Book as an example of the Press's finest publishing and bookmaking traditions as we celebrate the beginning of our second century

U N I V E R S I T Y O F C A L I F O R N I A PRESS Founded in 1893

A L P H A B E T CITY G E O F F R E Y BIDDLE Introduction

by Miguel Algarin

University of California Press Berkeley Los Angeles Oxford

University of California Press Berkeley and Los Angeles, California University of California Press, Ltd. O x f o r d , England © 1992 by Geoffrey Biddle Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Biddle, Geoffrey. Alphabet city / Geoffrey Biddle; introduction by Miguel Algarin. p. cm. ISBN 0-520-07360-6 (cloth : alk. paper). — ISBN 0-52007949-3 (pbk. : alk. paper) 1. Lower East Side (New York, N.Y.) — Description — Views. 2. Lower East Side (New York, N.Y.) — Social conditions. 3. Puerto Ricans — N e w York (N.Y.) — Pictorial works. 4. N e w York (N.Y.) — Description — 1981 — Views. 5. N e w York (N.Y.) — Social conditions. I. Title. F128.68.L6B5 1992 974.7'1 - dc20 91-40309 The publisher gratefully acknowledges the contribution provided by the General Endowment Fund of the Associates of the University of California Press. Printed in the United States of America 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences — Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984. oo

The most sensible and certainly the most useful response I got as a young photographer was to be given work. Many people did just that, particularly Alice Rose George and Gary Hoenig, w h o gave me the assignment that started this project. This work was done over a nearly fifteen-year period, and it would be impossible to remember everyone w h o was helpful along the way. Among those I do remember, Peter Galassi has been both a true friend and an unflinchingly critical supporter. Abby Heyman and Linda Ferrer each helped at important junctures. Thanks to my mother, Anne Biddle, for giving me the will to figure out w h a t I really wanted to do, and for her ideas and encouragement. Thanks to my aunt, Sheila Biddle, who put me in touch with the University of California Press; to N a o m i Schneider, my editor, and to Barbara Ras, Tony Crouch, and Steve Renick, all of U.C. Press, w h o gave me more than professional attention; to Larry Wolfson, the designer of the book and my friend; and to Miguel Algarin, who took on the Introduction and did such a wonderful job. Pistol, Johnnie, Blackie and Irma, Baby, the Z a p a t a sisters, Eddie Santana, Evalene Claudio — thanks for all you gave. Thanks and love for my wife, Mary Ann Unger, w h o is there for me every day, as I am for her, and the same for our daughter, Eve, w h o lightens things up around here. I would like to dedicate this book to the memory of Robert M. Siegel, 1 9 5 0 - 1 9 7 9 , friend, mentor, guide, perhaps the most dedicated person I have ever k n o w n , founder of the Andrew Glover Youth Program, located at 100 Centre Street, R o o m 1541, New York, N Y 10013, serving the youth of the Lower East Side. This project was made possible in part by a grant f r o m the N e w York State Council on the Arts.

This book is about a Puerto Rican neighborhood in New York City. It is a tough area, poor, and full of drug dealers and users. It is being slowly gentrified. T h e neighborhood was not called Alphabet City when I started working there. It was the Puerto Rican part of the Lower East Side of Manhattan, and the people who lived there called it Loisaida, Puerto Rican English for Lower East Side. The name Alphabet City, which refers to the area's Avenues A, B, C , and D, began to be used in the early 1980s, when gentrification made its first incursions into the neighborhood. The real estate developers popularized the new name because people who were interested in buying condominiums found the Puerto Rican name to be both meaningless and unpronounceable. Low-ee-SIGH-da. That's still the name the Puerto Ricans use. New people and people outside the area use the name Alphabet City. The neighborhood is bounded on the north by Fourteenth Street and on the south by Houston, which falls one below First Street but is still two miles from the bottom of Manhattan. From Avenue A on the west, the neighborhood runs east through rows of tenements, built in the mid-nineteenth century as cheap housing for waves of immigrants; across Avenue D and into the public housing projects, built in the late 1 9 4 0 s and early 1 9 5 0 s , six to twelve stories high, with eight-foot ceilings and named for the social reformers J a c o b Riis and Lillian Wald; then across the footbridges over the East River Drive, into a long thin park, and finally to the East River itself. Puerto Ricans live here. They started coming in the late 1 9 4 0 s and early 1950s, when the neighborhood was Jewish. This was Puerto Rican territory in 1 9 7 7 and 1 9 7 8 , when I photographed here.

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I started my picture taking on the street. A white guy, but white people came daily to buy drugs, so I didn't turn many heads. I went to clubs, to parties, to events, to homes. I stopped when I couldn't make the pictures say more. In 1987 the pictures won the Essay of the Year Award from the Missouri School of Journalism, and I became interested in working with the material again. 1 returned to the neighborhood, pictures in hand, and I located many of the people I had previously photographed. I interviewed them, and I took new pictures of them. Alphabet

City presents the old and the new material together.

This is the basic format: on each spread is a picture from the late seventies; then for one person from the picture, there is a photograph and an interview excerpt from the late eighties. There are variations: sometimes a friend or neighbor tells the story; sometimes the story is about an idea, rather than specifically about the people shown. This book is called Alphabet

City because it isn't for the people in the pictures. It isn't for the

Puerto Ricans who have been squeezed by gentrification, doubled and tripled up in the housing projects in numbers the census won't show but that the city guesses at by monitoring gas and electric use. It isn't for the people who are still on their old blocks, taking in relatives to live with them in their matchbox apartments, going to hole-in-the-wall social clubs. The rents have gotten too high for the old clubs that occupied the whole lower floor of a building; now they're hardly big enough for two video games. The people in the book will get their copies, and they will be pleased, or angry, or sad. But the book is really for the people who can't pronounce Loisaida.

The book is about the inner city, and it is

about more than just one neighborhood, where everybody seems to be related or at least went to school together. It is about something American, an attitude, Detroit, Miami, East Los Angeles, where people are not really sure if they are part of America but they are. Alphabet

City is for the people who w a n t to know

about the inner city, and even more it is for the people w h o don't w a n t to know.

G.R.B. N e w York City, 1991

" I g r e w up block here. This w a s our territory. . . .

Y o u a i n ' t n e v e r g o n n a t a k e m e . N o w a y . Especially not no Puerto

Rican. N e v e r . " H o w i e W h e e l e r

^

For the poor New York Puerto Rican there are two survival possibilities. The first is to labor for money and exist in eternal debt. The second is to refuse to trade hours for dollars and to live by your will and "hustle." " I used to w o r k at a drug s p o t . I w a s n ' t scared. In t h e g h e t t o , if y o u ' r e hustling in t h e streets, w h a t happens t o y o u , y o u g o t t a accept i t . " J o s é

Loisaida: Alphabet City

Muniz

The first choice: my mother and father arrive at a feeling of safety when they find themselves dutifully employed by a M r . Frisk or the Goldwater Memorial Hospital that provides them with a salary. Maria, my mother, has been working ever since I was born and she plans to keep on working. She feels safe when she works. She feels proud. She is entitled to honor herself and her husband and her children. Maria is eager to live. For many years she cut leather handbags to be sent to Miami for sale in luxury hotels. Maria was so responsible, so fast, so thorough, so on time that she always got whatever overtime there was to be had. Her boss, M r . Frisk, loved her. He even tried to seduce her, but Maria was virtuous. At last she felt the need to leave, I never knew why, but she moved her H O U R S elsewhere. Once Maria found a job in the dietary department at the Goldwater Memorial Hospital, she was determined to climb the ladder. She set out to compete. She took on the night shift: 4 : 0 0 A.M. to 2 : 3 0 P.M. She never missed a day. She became assistant to the assistant of the Head Assistant Dietician. She worked with precision during many crises. She is now assistant to the Head Assistant Dietician. Maria's hours are still the same. She goes in rain, snow, or

M i

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u e l

A l

S

a r i n

sleet. She is important in every way — but her take-home pay is only $ 1 3 5 a week. Her live planet hours have been richly worked but poorly paid. She is into the tense struggle of keeping housed, clothed, and fed. She lives in eternal debt. She works to survive without embarrassment. The second possibility is living by risks, risks of all types. There are poor people who will comply with a renegade's law: cheat, lie, strike, kill, deal, sell, buy, rob, cut, choke. Once there is no respect for the system, the options are numerous but very dangerous. " M y m o t h e r had m o n e y . S h e had a friend t h a t o w n e d a b e a u t y parlor, t h e y h o o k e d her up w i t h this job. S h e used to go to P e r u , S p a i n , a n d c o m e to N e w Y o r k City w i d drugs t a p e d in her b o d y . S h e c a m e back w i d a lot o f hundred dollar bills, f o r g e t it. T h a t Christmas w e h a d e v e r y t h i n g w e w a n t e d . " A m y Z a p a t a

M a n y rules establish the field of action that is permitted. Whenever one of these rules is broken, there is serious institutional action taken against the offender. You can either comply with the law or grab the moment. Take over a building. Go downtown and argue for the deed of ownership. The squatters of Loisaida and Harlem are doing it. They risk having to learn how to pipe a building, how to gut it, how to build a roof. They risk in order to construct the life that is happening to them. T h e second choice of refusing to trade live hours for dollars is a choice of endless varieties. The streets are where the game is played. The consequences of street games are totally unpredictable. If you get caught, you must pay. It is true that when you get caught there are plenty of other people involved in the same act as you. Yet the fact is that you (not the others) got caught. Y o u become an example — a correctional threat to those not caught. Maria's mother struggles with raising a family by selling food in

Tompkins Square. John is now hustling coke. Jesús is mugging anyone to get the money for another fix. Meanwhile the street cliques are involved in a transition from organized street hustling to coordinated alternative street government. "I don't give you no chance. You goin on the floor. You dead and stinkin. People I shot, they had crimes just as bad as I did. I did society a favor." Coco

The photographer juggles with visual images, living by seeking the moment. The shot is the risk. Whatever the camera focuses on, wherever it moves, it must be handled by a person with no fear of the inner-city jungle. In fact, the photographer is the philosopher of the shards of glass that sprout between the cracks of the concrete sidewalk. Geoffrey Biddle is the poet-photographer. He carries the tension of the streets in the mind and he knows he has to visualize the mind in snapshots, in photographs. Biddle juggles with life in Loisaida with a raw eye. Photographs that reveal the state of mind of the men, women, and children. He pictures their rebelliousness, their contentiousness, and their raw and burning poetry. Yet the question of whether or not Biddle merely documents as opposed to penetrating a higher dimension must be posed: has Biddle looked through his lens with bloodshot eyes seeking to provoke and sensationalize the subclass panorama of Loisaida? Or do his photographs lead us to a world where the tales of the streets that Biddle visualizes go beyond the proclamations of hurt, anger, and hatred that whirl at you from every shot? Has Biddle merely amplified the high-pitch bomba agony of the liquid, shifting Latino reality around him? There once was a time when there was no problem. The races were separate and unequal. Men

and women of color lived their lives behind the barrier of economic, cultural, and social discrimination. Employees knew that the employer could choose without fear of repercussion. Picket lines, boycotts, and embarrassing judgments agreeing with the Civil Rights Act were not a problem. If José, Maria, Carmen, Miguel, or John were not hired or not given the apartment or not allowed into the social club, bar, or restaurant, there would be no embarrassing judgments costing money damages. Then the races became " legally" equal but emotionally, educationally, and economically separate, though touted as integrated. However, now there is a new shoe on the foot and it is called "reverse" discrimination. People are acting as if the Civil Rights Act (and all of its subsequent amendments) begot preferential hiring, begot preferential assignments, and begot preferential promotions of minorities. And as if these preferential begettings that have been placed on the Earth have given birth and encouragements to dangerous quotas. Does middleclass America sleep soundly at night knowing that on its deadly urban battlefronts there is a two-headed monster that hungers to bite the employment force for large back pay awards? A look at the conditions and the people of Alphabet City photographed in Biddle's pictorial essay should put some of these nightmare fears to rest. There is no "race norming" going on to benefit these people. Look at Biddle's photographs. There are no employment practices that adjust job-testing scores according to separate racial percentiles in Pistol's, Ariel's, or Evalene's world. If in our testing process we rank Hispanic and African Americans only with other members of their race and then merge their scores, without reference to race, with the "scores and ranks of the white," have we destroyed the American dream of equality? Geoffrey Biddle's photographs here again demonstrate

that there is an awesome discrepancy between the child b o r n , educated, and raised in Loisaida and the chances o f his or her receiving a piece o f the competitive, capitalist American pie. Indeed the chance simply does not exist. "I should go back home and study on investing in mutual funds and fucking real estate, getting my mother out of here. I could really be doin this shit, but I'm lacking something. I got energy, but it's diverted by this fuckin crazy anger." Eddie Santana Biddle's pictorial poem testifies to the ever-growing unemployment, the ever-growing despair, and the evergrowing drug-induced destruction that plagues Alphabet City. "The only thing that [Ariel] wos doing was drinking, using drug. That's why he got AIDS, probably. But I'm not going to turn my back on him just because he got AIDS. It's not a big sin. Whoever has AIDS, they have it. I heard they're mostly the Lower East Side people." Mimi T h e American D r e a m is alive and well but not for the people o f Loisaida, not for the migrant farmers, n o r the automotive workers, nor the growing ranks o f skilled but unemployed p o o r white Americans. If there has been testimony in Congress that s o m e employers quietly resort t o quotas t o avoid lawsuits, we have not felt it in H a r l e m or the Loisaida that Geoffrey Biddle so effectively images. Even if the legislation proposed by the Bush administration goes t o o far, in the minds of some, in retaining the provisions which force an employer t o prove his or her innocence, the G a r c í a , Hernández, C o r r e a , D a l m a u , González, and Rodríguez families of Loisaida have not yet touched the face o f American jurisprudenceinnocent until proven guilty. T h e employees of Loisaida have not yet charged the local small businessman

with the harsher legislation o f proving his innocence when he fails to hire them. T h e majority of people in Loisaida are decent and willing t o do what is right. H o w e v e r , they will not tolerate making their children second- or third-class citizens as a result o f the paranoia surrounding quotas and reverse discrimination. Reverse discrimination simply does not exist and Geoffrey Biddle provides abundant p r o o f with each photograph that depicts the epidemic o f shame and pain that composes the landscape o f America's deadly urban battlefront.

W h a t is it that a Geoffrey Biddle photograph can or c a n n o t show? W h a t the pictures can say is often literal. W h a t Geoffrey's eye sees is what we see. T h e composition, choice o f subject, w h a t ' s included or excluded, the mis-en-scene o f the photographed world when viewed contemplatively b e c o m e the totality o f the "I/eye" personality o f the photographer. Biddle has chosen to photograph a world characterized by Louis Sullivan, the head o f the U.S. D e p a r t m e n t o f Health and H u m a n Services, as a world " w h e r e every 1 0 0 hours on our streets, we lose more young men than were killed in 1 0 0 hours o f ground w a r in the Persian G u l f . " It is a world o f carnage, o f devastating civilian casualties. T h e scoreboard points t o m a n y young deaths in a war our young people have declared on themselves. Louis Sullivan has clearly said that " t h e • leading killer o f young black males is young black males." 1 At the root o f this butchery are drugs, violence in movies and television, the broken family and the subsequent loss o f one-family homes — an easy sociological, psychological, polemical explanation. T h o s e w h o live in the midst o f this holocaust k n o w that

1. New York Post, March 1 5 , 1 9 9 1 .

the criminals who live next door buy their firearms on the streets, on the black market that Loisaida has become. " I figured 1 was bad in the street, so I guess t h a t ' s w h y I w a n t e d to buy a gun for m y son, so he could protect himself w h e n he grows u p , so nobody fuck with him. Y e a h , so he could be h i p . " P i s t o l

The proliferation of weapons and state-of-the-art automatic arms better than those held by the police are in the possession of organized contraband peddlers, hustlers, and criminals w h o have converted urban America into a bleeding battlefield. The faces in practically every frame of Geoffrey Biddle's Alphabet City register the awesome impact of our urban guerrilla warfare. Geoffrey Biddle's extraordinary interviews with the people of Loisaida are tight colorful soundbites of agonizing accuracy. When José Muniz says in his interview: " M y first time upstate I g o t into a fight with o corrections officer, so they sent me to Attico. Attica supposed to be for big time criminals w h o g o t life, f i f t y to life, big t i m e . I had people outside w h o were sending m e everything I needed. And these older guys inside, they w a n t e d it. T h e y seen m e , I was y o u n g . I was s e v e n t e e n . M a y b e they had in their mind they think t h e y ' r e gonna fuck me t o o . "

He doesn't realize h o w ironically lucky he is. Because in Puerto Rico nearly 70 percent of the prison deaths are caused by AIDS. Prison authorities in Puerto Rico have not initiated any preventive programs. The disease rages unchecked and it is a fact that there is no A Z T on the island. Currently, the only proven medical relief, A Z T is not being imported to an area with the highest incidence of AIDS in any state or other territory of the U.S.A. N o t that the presence of A Z T ensures permanent relief. O n the average it only

prolongs life for a short time at very high cost. It does not cure. Loisaida is filled with men and women whose health fails as the promise of A Z T wanes. The people of Loisaida wait for the F.D.A. to move. Compassionate rapidity in the introduction of new affordable medicines is desperately needed. Back to the question, once again: has Biddle brilliantly documented, or have his eyes pressed on beyond the polemical into the spirit of Loisaida? When looking at these pictures, what is it that grabs and interests the viewer? The pain and hopelessness of young people not really moving on with life impresses. But is there a way out of this subclass? Is there something unsaid by these photographs that is as palpable, grabable, and have-able as Pistol's baby protected in his crib by a rifle? A rifle put there much like one utilizes a rosary or the Star of David as a symbol of holy protection. Is what is holy about Loisaida photographable? Yes. In visualizing space and circumstance the wages of sin are articulated and defined. A child looking at these photographs has had his or her subclass environment in all its evil and sometimes charm emblemized and made manageable. The relationship between "inherited cultural richness" and the substrata disadvantage of place can be visualized, handled, analyzed, and identified as what lies outside, not inside, the person. The crack vials and shards of glass that litter the sidewalks are not what is inside of " me." I am not the garbage, the booze, the guns, the dirt. I am the song, the baptism, newborn

the wedding.

I am the

child that grows among rank weeds. So in fact, these photographs can awaken and strengthen

biological family ties and inherited social and cultural patterns. The hope is in the looking at where one ought not to get caught; and if caught in Alphabet City, the hope is in seeing h o w to change.

A L P H A B E T CITY

Sylvia Guadalupe

I can call my mother in? Mommy, mire. Around how old was I here? Ten? Wow. I was a tomboy. I would love to climb. I would get up and go, and now, I get up and stay. If I go, I gotta take her and the carriage and oh, God. Now I gotta look after her, make sure she could get up and go.

1977: Standing on chair

Maria "Iris Chiquita" Verdejo I'm no more "Iris Chiquita." Now I'm just "Iris." You see that l a d y ? That's too much fatter? My husband live with this lady now. Verdad. She w a s m y best friend. Oh, shit. That's no fair no how.

Edith "Iris Grande" Pérez The two of us, I think it's God's gift. We've been five years together. He's still married. The father of my kids died in prison, but sometimes he gets in between us. Sometimes I want to go to sleep and I see him. I come out screaming, M o m ! I ' m stabbing him, or they're killing my kids, the father's taking me through the hair and picking me up: I ' m gonna kill you! I ' m gonna kill y o u ! You were supposed to tell him to get divorced! He d i d n ' t get divorced! Right, honey? And it's him. It's the father of my kids.

1 9 8 8 : Israel Rol6n and Iris G r a n d e in t h e i r r o o m at t h e Hotel Martinique

I

9 7 7

: i*™1

Rol

°n,

his

Iris

C h l q u l t a , a n d t h r e e of their children

Edith " I r i s G r a n d e "

Pérez

The two of us, I think it's God's gift. We've been five years together. He's still married. The father of my kids died in prison, but sometimes he gets in between us. Sometimes I want to go to sleep and I see him. I come out screaming, Mom! I'm stabbing him, or they're killing my kids, the father's taking me through the hair and picking me up: I'm gonna kill you! I'm gonna kill you! You were supposed to tell him to get divorced! He didn't get divorced! Right, honey? And it's him. It's the father of my kids.

1 9 8 8 : Isroel Rolon and Iris Grande in their room at the Hotel Martinique

1 9 7 7 : Israel Rolon, with his wife. Iris Chiquita, and three of their children

Elizabeth Cruz Pérez My family moved to Puerto Rico ten years ago. They filled out some papers and they got a parcela, a plot of land from the government. They maked the house and they came to live here. Life is good in P.R. The sun, the beaches. Work is hard to find. I don't have a job. My husband doesn't hove a job. He doesn't know English, but he would like to be over there, to find work. I don't know. I have all my family here. I see my mother every day. I look ot the picture. Lilly was m y friend. W e used to play a lot. I went back three years ago, for a month. I s a w her mother. She was involved with drugs. I wanted to come back.

1 9 8 9 : With her husband in Arecibo, Puerto Rico

1 9 7 7 : Center, playing pat-o-cake with Lillian Zapata

Amy Zapata I'm twenty-three now. Then I was twelve. My mother hod money. She hod a friend thot owned o beauty porlor, they hooked her up with this job. She used to go to Peru, Spain, and come to New York City wid drugs taped in her body. She came back wid a lot of hundred dollar bills, forget it. Thot Christmas we had everything we wonted. Then after that, I started to notice my mother wid a lot of bondoids, in her arms. She'd say, I went to the hospital, they took blood out. Until one day, I opened the door and there she was shooting up through her vein, through her foot. I started screaming, and she told me thot she wouldn't do it anymore. Things started missing. She was selling everything. One doy, my mother brung a man to the house. They did whatever, whatever. She left him sleeping and stole his wallet. That man could hove raped me or my sisters, could hove hurt us. That's when I found out thot my mother didn't really core about us. So that night, I went to this ploce, I worked all night, bagging up dope and coke. Putting it in little bags to throw it in the streets, to sell it. I made enough money, colled my aunt in Puerto Rico, got the tickets right in the airport, and sent my sisters off. My Moms is in prison. She looks good now. But she has AIDS. She used to sleep in abandoned buildings. She used to use the vein from her neck. Any vein she will find in her body.

1989: Amy, right, and Lillian

' 9 7 7 : Front *

he sis,e Lillion iS 0 reC

'

'

'

'

Eddie Santana Last s u m m e r , I m a d e like $ 5 0 , 0 0 0 , but I jerked it all a r o u n d , giving it to family and buyin a cor. N o w I ' m d o w n to $ 5 , 0 0 0 . But I ' m g o i n all the w a y . I ' m willing to die. I g o t a lot of upper b o d y strength. I g o t 9 millimeter, I g o t U z z i . W h a t e v e r y o u w a n t to c o m e with, I ' m ready for it. I could b e doin a lot more o n the positive side to get outta here. I s h o u l d be getting up at nine o ' c l o c k , baggin u p m y shit and getting it out there. I s h o u l d g o back h o m e and s t u d y o n investing in m u t u a l f u n d s and fuckin real estate, getting m y mother out of here. I could really be doin this shit, but I ' m lacking s o m e t h i n g . I g o t e n e r g y , but it's diverted by this fuckin crazy a n g e r . I ' m like too h u n g r y for it. I ' m really d e p r e s s e d g o i n t h r o u g h this fuckin bullshit right n o w . The g u y actually disrespected m e . H e fuckin all out tried to kill m e . W e were fuckin partners. H e h e a r s r u m o r s , h e gets o n s o m e e g o m a n i a c shit, a n d he b l a n k s out, the kid. Really b l a n k s out. H e k n o c k s o n m y door w i t s o m e of this bullshit, s o I p u n c h e d h i m in the heod. T h a t ' s w h e n h e ' s pulling out and h e s h o t m e . I read h i m w r o n g . But I w a s upset. Y e a h , I ' m still short-tempered. M e a g a i n s t the world, m a n . I got a f e w girls that love m e . There g o m y s o n right here. A n d y o u gotta r e m e m b e r P i s t o l ' s girl. Y o , B a b y ! C o m e here, e h !

1 9 8 8 : With his son and the mother

1 9 7 8 : Center, with Pistol, right, and unidentified person

Annette " B a b y " Montalvo I was gonna have a kid from Pistol, when I was fifteen. I was infatuated w i t h this guy, something like, Oooooh, I got this popular boy and everybody knows him. They be like, Yo, watch it, he's a killer. I liked that. I didn't know about no birth control. I knew right away I was pregnant when I missed out on my period. I d i d n ' t know how to tell Pistol. I told him, We got to talk about something. I d o n ' t know how you're gonna take it, but I ' m scared and I ' m nervous. I d o n ' t know what to do, and he kept telling me, What? What? And then I just told him, I ' m pregnant. If you want me to, I'll take it out, but d o n ' t leave me. So he said, Well, I want you to have it. And he told me that he'll be there with me. Until I lost it. That's when my mother found out, cause it happened in my house. That was some pains. I was screaming and screaming and then a balloon came out. I was like, Ah my God, w h a t is this! Aagh, aach, take it o u t ! And they was like, We can't, stay there, lay there. The ambulance came and they gave me this thing and it came out. After that things started working out differently between me and Pistol. He started messing around with more girls. Me and Michelle used to always tangle. So I left him. A couple of months later she got pregnant.

1 9 7 8 : From rear l e f t , John C i n t r 6 n , Choco ( w i t h b e e r ) , B a b y , Pistol, W i l l y S o n t o n a , Big Bird ( k n e e l i n g )

Ivan " P i s t o l " Gonzalez, speaking to his son: Hah. I want a copy of this one, man. That was a bad motherfucking gun. I don't know, James. I was about sixteen years old, I think. I figured I was bad in the street, so I guess that's why I wanted to buy a gun for my son, so he could protect himself when he grows up, so nobody fuck with him. Yeah, so he could be hip. Then I started thinking, that's wrong, saying, you got to be a maniac to buy o gun for a kid like that. After I talked to a couple of people, they made me sell it. They taught me something, you know? I'm very nervous to see whatchou going to do, when you grow up, you know? I just hope you come out better. Sit up, Dude. You understand what I'm sayin, D?

1 9 7 8 : James, son of Pistol ond Michelle

Pistol

Sammy Herrera: Pistol. Wow. This is my man. The reason I like this picture, cause my man tries in life. He doesn't give up that easily. That's what I like about him. His attitude. He's strong, man. Whatever he has done, h e ' s back at it. He tries to improve himself, for the worse or for the better. He got poise, you k n o w ?

Pistol M y M o m s w n s a g o o d person. S h e cared, b u l s h e just c o u l d n ' t hock us no m o r e . S h e k e p t s a y i n g s h e g o n n a kill herself, too. The day s h e died, she told m e that m y father hit her, a n d I told her, That w a s g o o d for y o u , for not c o o k i n g for him. A n d she left. I d i d n ' t k n o w s h e t o o k the pills, t h o u g h . The next d a y , they told m e she w a s dead. T h e y told m e that there w a s no w a y of m e k n o w i n that she took the pills, that it w a s n ' t m y fault. I still think I w a s responsible, t h o u g h . S h e c a m e up to m e to help her, to, h o w they call i t ? Calm her d o w n , comfort her. But I d i d n ' t . I just started b r e a k i n g on her. The last thing she said w a s , O k a y , y o u w a n t to be o n his s i d e ? S t a y with him. Like she k n e w w h a t w a s gonna happen.

1 9 7 8 : Left, with his mother and y o u n g e s t brother

Pistol Now I ' m cooling. Drink my methadone once a day. After I got shot, I figured God wonted to give me o warning. See, I used to turn this guy Nenito on a lot. So one day, he told me to give him some drugs, and I told him, No. He told me he was going to shoot me, so I just stood quiet, you k n o w . Then he took out the gun and he shot me. He kicked me around a couple of times, and he started lookin for the money and the drugs, while I ' m busy holding on to my legs. Then he took off, and my homeboy Rocky threw me in his car to take me to the hospital. I told my other boy Ariel, Ariel, grab the drugs. They're in the garbage con. Hold em for me. So I ' m in the hospital thinking that I still got the drugs. I told my wife Michelle to get me them, and when she w e n t , Ariel had shot the drugs up. So I ' m fucked. I should have given Nenito the drugs, ond I w o u l d n ' t hove got shot. I tell you, B, it's painful when you get shot. It felt like hot lead, like somethin real hot goin through your leg. Then I felt the hot blood pourin out, real hot, and I was tryin to get up, and my legs were shakin and I couldn't stop it, mon. Wild shit. Chill out. Lemme get some water.

1988

Willy Santano

Pistol: Yeah, Willy. You could tell he got the hit here, with the blood going back in. He and this guy Batch were stickin people up that were dealing. So this connection set him up. They told him that moybe they were going to give him drugs, and they took him up to their apartment, and the guy took out the gun and shot him. He killed Batch, and then he shot Willy three times. Willy fell out the window. And he went to get high, before he went to the hospital. After like a couple of weeks, he caught lead poisoning and he died. Evalene Claudio, Willy's sister: No. No. It's true that he got shot up. He must have received about twelve holes in his body. I guess he had in and outers. He got operated, then he went to ¡ail, according to him for his own protection, but he was always lying. You know how they come out of ¡ail, so healthy. Then they usually hibernate for a little while before hitting the streets again. So Willy came out, he was out here like a month, he stood in the hospital a month, and then he died. They did an autopsy and it came out AIDS, because of heroin use. It seemed just too quick, no slow process or nothing. Basically, you just have to accept what they tell you. That's it.

1978

Angel " C o t o " V a l e n t i n David Garcia: Coco was a cold-blooded killer responsible for nine bodies. If there w a s a squabble w i t h neighborhood drugs, they would give Coco the contract. People really feared this guy. They w o u l d get in line and shut the hell up, because they k n e w that a killer w a s aboard. He had ice for veins. I am telling you the truth when I tell you that these people are to be feared, should be feared. They w o n ' t hesitate to toke you out. Rafael " B l a c k i e " Pacheco: Coco a l w a y s used to tell me, I w a n t to be like my Uncle Y o u n g . Y o u n g was either in ¡ail or dealing drugs. He was one of these guys that if you say s o m e t h i n g that he d o n ' t like, he g o n n a hit you, he g o n n a stab you, he gonna do w h a t e v e r . He w a s n ' t t a l k a t i v e . Pis. The finger. That's w h a t made Coke a man. He w a s s k i n n y . People used to say, What, h i m ? Next thing you k n o w . M a g n u m . Boom. He did it for m o n e y . But one thing, he never ratted out his employer. That guy owns a restaurant on Avenue D. H e ' s legit now. Coco: I used to a l w a y s be packin. I felt better with a gun on, you k n o w ? Lower East S i d e ' s a tough spot. No fair fight. You gotta go all broke. I d o n ' t give you no chance. Y o u goin on the floor. Y o u dead and s t i n k i n . People I shot, they had crimes just as bad as I did. I did society a favor. Now Young, Y o u n g teached me a lot. Him and my other uncle were in a gang back in the fifties called the Untouchables. They a l w a y s used to be fighting against the Italians. I admired him and shit, but I d i d n ' t w a n t to turn out to be like him. Just happens that I grew up this w a y .

1 9 8 9 : Eastern Correctional Facility

1 9 7 7 : Right, with unidentified person

A m y Z a p a t a : M y mother came bock from Puerto Rico and opened her welfare case again. I was eighteen. M y mother, my two sisters, and me, pregnant with my son, were in this apartment. W e m a n a g e d for a m o n t h . The first check thot my mother got, she waited for the m a i l m a n downstairs, left with the check, and d i d n ' t come back. The landlord k n o c k i n g at my door, I w a n t the rent. $ 2 7 5 . I w a n t the rent. I w a n t the rent. O k a y . I w e n t upstairs. There was drugs in this building. This building w a s terrible. There w a s crock, there w a s dope, they used to sell needles next door. So I w e n t upstairs, and the guys fold me, W e ' l l give you the m o n e y , if you keep a safe in your house. They gave me $ 2 7 5 , I gove it to the landlord. I put the lease under my name and locked my mother out. I w e n t to f a m i l y court and got the girls by court.

They were paying me $ 4 0 0 a w e e k for keeping a safe, with m o n e y , a gun, and drugs. That's w h e n I started using crack. Freebasing. In the bathroom, in the room after the girls w o u l d be sleeping. I gave birth to my son seven and one-half months. Okay, I quit. I w o r k e d as a salesgirl in the Bronx. And then I came out pregnant from Stacey, and I started basing again, with S t a c e y ' s belly. It w a s like an urge. I based every day, every day, every day. I used to beat people. I'll be back, gimme your m o n e y , I'll bring you whatchou w a n t . And I used to go through the back of the building, run, wid a s t o m a c h . I used to tell the dealers, I'll sell. G i m m e . G i m m e a p a c k a g e . I would cut out wid it. I did a lot of bad things a n d the girls stuck by my side. W h e n I was five months, I looked at the house. There was nothing there. Everything w a s sold. M y stomach was shrinking. I looked at my son in the crib, and I said, I'm gonna lose my kids soon if I d o n ' t straighten out.

I l o o k e d a t the girls s l e e p i n g , o n d I s a i d , W h a t the hell a m I g o n n a d o ? S o I just t o o k e v e r y t h i n g a n d I t h r e w it o u t t h a t w i n d o w , a n d since then, t h a n k s G o d , I never t o o k b a s e a g a i n , I n e v e r t o o k crack a g a i n . I quit. M y k i d s , S t e v e n is g o n n a b e five, a n d S t a c e y just t u r n e d three. T h e y ' r e h e a l t h y . T h a n k G o d I quit b a s e . Y e a r s w e n t by, a n d I n e v e r w a s h o o k e d o n a n y t h i n g , n e v e r s o l d a n y t h i n g , until, s i x m o n t h s a g o , I started t r y i n g d o p e . H e r o i n . S n i f f i n g . M y b o y f r i e n d u s e d to sell d r u g s . I u s e d to s t e a l little b a g s h e r e , little b a g s t h e r e , o n d I u s e d t o like the little f e e l i n g . S t a y i n g h o m e e v e r y d a y , d e a l i n g w i t h the k i d s , f e e l i n g d o w n , f e e l i n g nice. I c o u l d deal w i t h a n y t h i n g . I t ' s n o t like. O h , I g o t s o m u c h p r e s s u r e that I g o t t a d o d r u g s . T h a t ' s out. I t ' s t h a t y o u like t h e hit. I w o u l d relox o n d feel m e l l o w . I c o u l d b e s o s w e e t to the kids. O n certain d a y s , i t ' s like I w a n t to kill t h e m , s o I w o u l d d o it a n d I w o u l d feel nice o n d n o t h i n g w o u l d bother m e . After a w h i l e , I n e e d e d it for e v e n f r e a k i n g g o d o w n s t a i r s . T o w a l k s t r a i g h t . B e c a u s e l e m m e tell y o u , y o u w o n ' t h a v e s t r e n g t h for a n y t h i n g . Y o u d o n ' t w a n t to talk to n o b o d y . Y o u d o n ' t w a n t to heor it. Y o u b e s o w e a k , y o u c a n ' t e v e n t a k e a b a t h right. Y o u r b o d y ' l l hurt. Y o u r attitude. E v e r y t h i n g . I d o n ' t w a n t to b e c h a s i n g the b a g n o m o r e . I d o n ' t . T h a t ' s w h y I ' m in the m e t h a d o n e p r o g r a m n o w . A n d I h o p e to G o d that it w o s the right choice. I k n o w it is. B e c a u s e I k n o w that I c o u l d n ' t quit cold t u r k e y . T h a t ' s painful a n d i t ' s h a r d . Especially living a r o u n d here. Y o u look o u t the w i n d o w , y o u s e e a d u d e o v e r there w i t h a c o u p l e o f b u n d l e s . It's hard. Annette " B a b y " Montalvo: W i t h d r a w a l f r o m heroin. I k n o w . Y o u g e t a lot o f b a c k a c h e s . Y o u r s p i n a l is v e r y u n c o m f o r t a b l e pain. R i g h t in t h e m i d d l e . I t ' s a p a i n t h a t n e v e r g o e s a w a y . Y o u r k n e e s , i t ' s like if t h e r e ' s s o m e b o d y s q u e e z i n g s o hard t h a t i t ' s c a u s i n g that p a i n . Y o u c a n ' t s l e e p , g o t t a b e t w i s t i n g . Like y o u r b o n e s are h u r t i n g . Y o u c a n ' t w a l k . Y o u a l w a y s m o v i n g y o u r legs. A n d t h e n y o u start y a w n i n g o n d y o u g e t tears. A n d t h a t ' s b a s i c a l l y it.

Then you get butterflies ond you start throwing up. You throw up first thick saliva, and then yellow. And then you have diarrhea. For a while. Maybe two or three weeks. Your stomach is always like nauseous. You get headaches. You sweat a lot. You get flashes, hot and cold, all the time, hot and cold. Sounds great, right? Yeah, it's a ball. Nah, but that's basically it. The knees, the back, the yawning, the tearing, the throwing up, the diarrhea, the cold and hot flashes. You sweat constantly. It feels like you're gonna die. Some people just feel like scratching, scratch yourself, scratch your eyes out. You got all this tension, you got all this aches. A blow of heroin will take everything away, but you don't got none of that. How could you explain it? You either scratch yourself or cut yourself. Withdrawing makes you wanta commit suicide. Felix Garcia: Drugs have practically wiped out my family. My kids get up in the morning. They go to the methadone program. They come home. You don't give them money, they get violent. You live with the fear that they do something in the street dirty and they're gonna get killed. It's a shocking experience. David, my oldest, was three years in the army, worked for U.S. Customs, for the stock market. He went on drugs early. Lilly, my daughter, was murdered in Puerto Rico. They tied her up and they stuck drugs into her. She was running around with a tough crowd. Nancy is completely gone, needs psychiatric help, on drugs, violent. Frank hod a good job with Coca-Cola, lost it because of the drug condition. My son Freddy robbed a bank. Did six years. He's not that bad like the others. He just wanted to get rich fast. Then I got Edwin, completely incoherent. I have to live with this for the rest of my life. The only bright spot is my youngest son, Daniel, that he's going to Boston University. He's the only one that I could say is 100 percent lily clean in my family. He's gotten scholarships. He was accepted in six colleges.

M e and m y wife h a v e lived the life of d o g s raising our k i d s . S h e ' s a beautiful person. S h e d o e s n ' t drink. S h e d o e s n ' t s m o k e . S h e ' s a church w o m a n . S h e ' s never w o r n lipstick in her life. Never w o r n pants. S h e ' l l d o a n y t h i n g for her children. W e d o n ' t k n o w w h a t h a p p e n e d . I u s e d to g o to w o r k . M y wife u s e d to g o to w o r k . W e d i d n ' t k n o w that they were m e s s e d up until it w o s too late. Eddie Santano: M e a n d F a b i a n started together at the a g e of twelve. W e s h o t d r u g s in our a r m s at the a g e of twelve. W e m u s t h a v e b e e n b l o w i n g at eleven. This g u y ' s mother w a s s e n d i n g u s to pick up d o p e . C h i n e s e R o c k s . A n d s o w e start o p e n i n g it, taking out little rocks. W e were playing with it, hordly k n e w w h a t to d o with it, experim e n t i n g . Giving it a w a y at ridiculous prices. W e were real y o u n g , m a n . Real y o u n g . I g o t m y brother o n to it. Willy. Evalene Claudio, Willy a n d Eddie S a n t a n a ' s sister: T o d a y , these d a y s , it s e e m s like s o m e b o d y y o u k n o w dies every day. Y e a r s a g o , w h e n s o m e b o d y died in the n e i g h b o r h o o d , e v e r y b o d y w o u l d m o u r n t h e m . N o w it's, Oh, s o a n d s o died, w h o o s h t . Oh, h e d e s e r v e d it. Y o u feel that n o b o d y d e s e r v e s , w h a t e v e r , y o u k n o w ? A n d I feel that the m o t h e r s m u s t be hurt s o much cause a lot of mothers are outliving their children. I think they m u s t be hurting a lot. W h a t hurts m e s o much, also, that these kids g r o w u p together, a n d basically t h e y ' r e involved in d r u g s right n o w . According to t h e m , the law is b u s i n e s s is b u s i n e s s . Even if y o u g r e w u p with that person, w e n t to school with t h e m , a n y t h i n g c o m e s d o w n that they have to get rid of y o u for s o m e r e a s o n , t h e y ' l l just d o it. All that living together, or w e g r e w up together, or I k n o w o b o u t y o u , w e were close, d o e s n ' t matter w h e n it c o m e s d o w n to w h a t e v e r they h a v e to d o for b u s i n e s s . I d o n ' t u n d e r s t a n d it. I feel that being a friend is s u p p o s e d to m e a n m o r e than a f e w extra b u c k s .

Rafael " B l a t k i e " Pacheco: ' 7 6 to ' 7 9 , I used to hong out on Avenue B. From Second Street to Third Street, that one block, you actually saw four hundred guys dealing drugs. Like a supermarket. When the drugs arrived and people would line up to buy, they had a guy wid a bat: No sneaking up. You sneaking up, Boom. Get outta here. You ain't gonno get none. Drugs were really, really taking over. And I realized that in fifteen yeors this whole area wos going to be different. We weren't going to be here anymore. They were actually going to throw us out. And little by little, that's what the government itself is doin. The drugs don't come in by themselves, and we don't get fed drugs just like that. It's for a purpose. And if you notice, all the minorities that were here, they not here. This is getting to be a yuppie area now. it's incredible. I mean the rents are like, who could afford it? Then out of thin air, they come up with, Oh, okay, we gotta start cleaning up. Operation Pressure Point. In less than three or four months, it was empty. It was like a desert. So why'd they wait so long? That's whot I don't understand. Clover Swann: Operation Pressure Point started because the drug dealing was so extreme, and the developers wanted to come in. Every block, you could find four or five people dealing specific drugs, telling every passerby what kind of drugs they had. The developers said, We don't want drug line-ups at eleven o'clock in the morning, when the drugs arrive, and we are coming with our potential co-op purchasers. It is pretty degrading to be walking down your block every day with your child and have people hustling you for drugs. Operation Pressure Point was just so thrilling. And it was a shock, too, for the law-abiding citizens of the Lower East Side, because suddenly you'd turn around and there would be twenty-five policemen walking up Avenue B

at ten o ' c l o c k in the morning. They were just gonna scare e m all out, and they did. They got everybody off the streets and they w e n t into the last cars of every g o d d a m n s u b w a y train in the city. Y o u could buy any drug you w a n t e d if you w e n t in to the last car of any train. That lasted for two or three months and it was really scary. But you spend a lot of time in the streets, and t h e r e ' s no w a y that y o u ' r e going to think things are getting better or t h e y ' v e solved any sort of drug problem at all. They get m o v e d from block to block. You go d o w n to S e c o n d Street between B and C, there's all those burned-out buildings, and people are living in them. People are shooting up in t h e m . Once or twice a year, t h e r e ' s s o m e b o d y w h o ' s gotten inside my locked building, and t h e y ' r e having a little heroin party between the third and fourth floors. They have the matches and the cap and the little tourniquet, and you say, Y o u d o n ' t live in this building. And they say, Well, w e c a n ' t do this at h o m e . W e l l , get out of my h o m e . I guess this d o e s n ' t happen in other neighborhoods. The worst thing is a drug addict apartment. They decide to have a fight, they t a k e down the door. It's not contained in the apartment. It affects the w h o l e building in a creepy, insidious, total w a y , and t h e r e ' s nothing the landlord can do.

Julio R i v e r a , trainer: S h a d o w . M a k i n g s h a d o w . He d o n ' t got boxing shoes. He got cheap tennis. It's a cheap pants, too. Too wide open. Flat-footed. No good balance. H e ' s an amateur fighter, you can see. H e ' s a poor g u y . H e ' s trying. He's a beginner. With dreams. One of R i v e r a ' s fighters: I come in here, I d o n ' t think of nothing else but fighting. I d o n ' t think of drugs, I d o n ' t think of drinking. M y heart is in this. When I'm out there, I see people doing drugs, drinking, I say, I think I'm better than them. I'm not doin that stuff.

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C a r m e l o N e g r o n (not in p h o t o g r a p h ) : In the time I w a s boxing, I w a s number one contender, s e v e n t e e n fights, seventeen knockouts. I w a s s o m e b o d y . Like M i k e Tyson. Everywhere I step off, people like, Y e a h . That's him. Then in seconds everything is over. All that time that I w a s t e d . I could hove probably done something else. I got myself a name and people look up to me. I a l w a y s could feel proud of m y s e l f . I never w e n t into the streets, sell drugs, nothing like thot. M y dreams would just be wit boxing, world c h a m p i o n . And I got close.

Carmelo Negron (not in photograph): Look ot the faces. There's a lot of dreams. Like, I'm getting out of this place. They should just do it the smart way. What I did, I trusted my trainer too much. We were big time, and he just bugged out. It takes a lot more than skill. You can't trust nobody when you're in the business of making money in boxing.

Ariel Vêlez Mimi: Ooooh . . . him. With the tiger? That was my sister's husband. Ariel. They said that he died, but I don't know if it's true because I haven't heard from him. He was o nice guy, but he never worked. I wos working since I was seventeen. The only thing that he was doing was drinking, using drug. That's why he got AIDS, probably. But I'm not going to turn my back on him just because he got AIDS. It's not a big sin. Whoever has AIDS, they have it. I heard they're mostly the Lower East Side people. Ariel: Who tell you that? Yeah, but what people? Woman? Guy? You ask the doctor. I would know if I have AIDS. It's some different place. My appetite is normal. Everything is normal. My history? I was in drug, then I start trying to be a boxer, blah, blah, blah, but I can't do it. I blew it. I tried to kick it, but I couldn't. I wanted all my life to be a boxer. That's my one ambition.

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1978: Boxer at

rear

Ding-o-ling

David Garcia: Ding-a-ling was a person that grew up knowing drugs was a problem. He landed in ¡ail because of it. I hod the pleasure of knowing him for almost all my life. He's been honest. When he falls in love with a person, he shows his emotions, his feelings, and basically he's a guy that if he's not on drugs, he'll do anything for you. I trust him. The Ding-a-ling that does drugs is a Ding-o-ling to wotch out for. Two different people. Dr. Jekyll and Hyde. I myself liked him.

1 9 7 7 : Ding-a-ling, with hat, at the gate in Tompkins Square Park

I been here ten yeors. I hove a marriage life now, and I got kids. I stay home all day, all night. I would like to be in New York. The rent is high, but that's why they have welfare. I love New York. This girl in the picture, with the jacket over her head, that's my cousin. She was in ¡ail. She had a habit. She was taking drugs through her vein. If I would have been over there, I could have been running around like a junkie, locked up, or dead. See, my father never understands that he should be proud the way I am now. I have my house, I have my car, I have a husband, I have three kids. I didn't give him everything he wanted, me finish school, being a secretary, a teacher, a doctor, a nurse, but at least I ' m alright.

1977: Left

Janet Arios I was happy here. I was t w o months pregnant. I wos sixteen. All I was seeing was love. I was a y o u n g kid t h a t d i d n ' t k n o w about life yet. Then after w e have kids, he started going outside, playing me dirt. He never treated me as I w a n t e d to be treated. Love, tender, and care. I f e l t like a second plate at our table. I took it hard when w e got divorced. Cause of his problem he t h o u g h t I was going to change, be a junkie. No. M y kids are first. I w e n t to school for medical receptionist. When I was married to h i m , I c o u l d n ' t have done none of t h a t . I had to just be a w i f e , a maid, and a mother, to h i m , too, really. Now I tell h i m . You just c a n ' t come back in m y life, now t h a t I ' m doing good. I ' m a totally different person. I ' m taller. Don't mess w i t h me; I ' l l mess witchyour head, and witchyour life.

1 9 8 8 : W i t h her children

1 9 7 8 : At her w e d d i n g

My mother used to use drugs. She was a wanderer in the streets. After she died, I just started shooting up. I went to Puerto Rico to bury her, so that fucked me up. Nah, that's bullshit. I did it because I wanted to try it. I got strung out, started stealing, dealing, sticking up people. I used to walk into banks and follow people with the most money and take it off of them. When they busted me, they let me out to be a snitch. They knew I was strung out on drugs. That's when I started doin all these other things. In a way it's my fault, but it's more their fault. They should never have let me back out on the street. When you strung out on drugs, you don't think and you don't give a fuck. Elsie had left me, but she got me into a methadone program. I kicked, started working. I was dealing to get ahead. I haddo take the gamble because that wos the only way I could make money. I got busted with nine vials of crack. I'm a repeat offender. They ain't gonna give me no break this time.

1 9 7 8 : With Elsie, on his left, and unidentified persons

Luz N e g r o n We were raised with our grondporents, and we were taught, from bod and wrong. Sometimes when my sister and me wanted to go outside, my grandfather used to say. No. Do you carry pants? Learn whot o woman do in the house, so the day you get married, the man w o n ' t get a pan and hit you in your face wid it. So I got married to Carlos. Then his mother died and he started drinking, not being ot home. I found out he was going out with another lady. Her name is Norma. I hate the name. I got so pissed off, I packed all my things up and I took my baby and I went home to my mother's house. I don't go with that macho. I think the woman has the same rights as a man. But even if my grandparents were old-fashioned, the advices that they gave me really stood inside. That's why I find myself os o good woman. The whole world could be turning down, and if you have your own way of raising your kids, trying to teach them the best you know how, that's what makes you a good mother. What they become after that, you never know.

1988

1 9 7 8 : At her w e d d i n g ; t h e bride on t h e right

Tito Luis Román, T i t o ' s father: I w a s with her. M e a n d the girl y o u hove in the picture, Linda. O n the right, with our b o y Tito. I meet her in Puerto Rico, w h e n I w a s running a taxi. I drive her from o n e t o w n to the other, in the m o r n i n g and in the afternoons. S h e w a s in school and I w a s old e n o u g h for her, b e c a u s e she w a s fourteen a n d I w a s twenty-eight. W e settled u p together and w e had three b o y s , the last one here in N e w Y o r k . S h e w a s alright. S h e helped m e a lot. Then s h e started to h a v e a n affair with a C u b o n g u y , s o w e split. S h e kept all three b o y s . After that, I s a w her h a n g i n g a r o u n d d o w n t o w n . A n d then I see m y b o y s w a n d e r i n g u p a n d d o w n , sleeping in the street, the h a l l w a y , under the steps, h u n g r y , no s h o e s . S h e had started using dope. M e and m y n e w wife w e n t and g e t e m b y court, the three boys. I heard s h e ' s still in pretty bad s h a p e . I h a v e n ' t s e e n her for three or four years. I heard that she w a s pregnant by a D o m i n i c a n g u y , in Puerto Rico, s o m e w h e r e in S a n Juan. I d o n ' t k n o w where.

1 9 8 9 : Tito with his father, Luis Romän

1 9 7 8 : Tito o n his mother's lap, with unidentified person

Vito Lillian Z a p a t a : They used to smoke crack, to freebase. That keeps you up like for days, so they were always awake, always people in the apartment with them. That night, the guy that was there had a gun, and he was messing with it, and it went off. They had a little mattress on the living room floor, where their daughters were sleeping, end it shot the youngest one. His wife screamed and ran to the baby. The baby w e n t , M o m m y , and she pushed a pacifier in her mouth. She picked her up and ran outside and she kept running in the streets trying to stop a car, jumping in front of cars, till finally somebody saw the blood and they saw that she was hysterical and the baby just hanging there, and they rushed her to the hospital and she died. And Vito and that guy, they just left, to hide out, because of course they were going to accuse them. It came out in the paper that he did it, and it was the guy that was there. V i t o : I d o n ' t remember. I was racing a car. I ran into the wall. I d o n ' t even remember about the accident.

1988

1977

Evalene Claudio: I d o n ' t like this look. Y o u k n o w w h a t I m e a n ? C a u s e this is w h a t y o u ' r e teaching y o u r kids. I ' m not s a y i n g y o u c a n ' t h a v e fun, but y o u c a n ' t sit a r o u n d every day doin this. T h a t ' s w h a t y o u ' r e t e a c h i n g him. I feel that then y o u d o n ' t h a v e n o kind of right later o n to tell t h e m , H e y , y o u c a n ' t d o this. The.kid in t h e s e d a y s will tell y o u a n y w a y , T h a t ' s w h a t y o u t a u g h t me. Y o u d o this. W h o are y o u to be telling m e .

M a n on Eighth S t r e e t : This is s o m e d e v a s t a t i n g stuff here. I d o n ' t k n o w h o w to c o m p l i m e n t y o u in p h o t o g raphy, man, but I'll tell you one thing, you done captivated the culture here. Y o u h a v e c a u g h t t h e e s s e n c e of a s i t u a t i o n by a t i l t . It's w e i r d to m e . To l o o k a t t h i n g s , y o u m u s t h a v e a s l a n t , so, l i k e , t h a t ' s y o u r t i l t .

W h a t do you w a n t ? I d o n ' t get it. Y o u w e n t up to my h o u s e ? I d o n ' t like it. I d o n ' t w a n t to get involved with nothing from the past. W h y you took my picture? Who gave you my address? I d o n ' t k n o w you. I d o n ' t k n o w nothing about you. I'm no fugitive from the law, I k n o w that. I'm an American citizen, t h a t ' s it. For all I k n o w , it could be illegal for you to t a k e my picture. If you have a big c o m p a n y , m a y b e I could sue you. I'm in my rights here. I d o n ' t k n o w who the fuck you are.

1 9 7 7 : Seated of dominoes fable

R o c k y S t e l l a : S e e , t h a t ' s w h a t clubs used to be l i k e . The men used to go play pool and the w o m e n used to sit d o w n and drink. Shit. You k n o w w h o ' s t h i s ? Lonely. You could call this picture " L o n e l y . " Like w h e n you paint? Y o u could call that "La S o l e d a d . "

Luis Solie

All the people k n o w the ploce you have to g o to ploy. W e con start at ten o'clock, and we finish the next morning at seven o'clock. W e born in Puerto Rico, and w e love that over there. If your rooster's g o o d , and mine is g o o d , w e can m a k e a fight with five, ten thousand dollars. After that, they bet during the fight. S o m e t i m e s the fights are only one minute, two minute. Whatever the judge say, that's count. A big money fight, they have to fight all the w a y to their death. Or one run a w a y and another stay. Twenty minute, if you no have a winner, that's a draw. Nobody lose anything. W h e n they fight, they ¡ump. If you k n o w about rooster, you k n o w w h e n he throw his leg and he hit the other one. You d o n ' t see it, because it's too fast. But I see it. S o m e t i m e they hit it in the vein, and he pull out right a w a y . I know, in a minute, the blood start come out. I k n o w this rooster can g o no far. That's w h e n w e bet. You have to be very smart, if you like to be at cockfight.

1 9 8 8 : Right, with Romiin

1 9 7 8 : In the w h i t e shirt, b e h i n d R o m G n , w h o is p o i n t i n g

Luis Solie: This striped shirt, this is the fudge. The w a y he put his hands there, it's something important. He say, No, the fight can't be, because this rooster have the leg long, and the other rooster got the leg short. See, we match them, in the same height, in the same weight. Then we put the point, that they kill with, we put it on the spur, and we tape it all around. They m a k e it out of the big fish, the tail bone. If you like this sport, you pay five hundred dollars for one pair. You lose the fight with one-hundred-dollar points. Now we start the fight, and the people start betting on the side. Seems like they're crazy, but everyone know what they doing. Never you see a fight inside, two men. The rooster fight, not the men. Like with the two boxing. Lotto arguments. The same with us. Emotion.

Sandra González I w a s around fifteen here. I became pregnant w h e n I was sixteen. I ran a w a y w i t h the father to Fourteenth Street, his sister's house. I left him, but w h e n my mother f o u n d out I wos pregnant, she told me to marry him. He used to hit me a lot. He w a s in alcohol. I got divorced when I w a s nineteen. Now, I got this apartment, I'm collecting w e l f a r e , I got my boyfriend. I w a n t to go into computers, become something for my children. I w o s n ' t really that bad. W h e n I w a s in sixth grade, I m e t this nun, Sister Veronica. She convinced me to go to church. I w a s fascinated by that stuff. Right now, I go to church c o m p l e t e l y . I teach my kids w h a t ' s good and w h a t ' s wrong and to be alert of child molesters. So many bad things out there. I have a lot of faith and I like to lead a peaceful life. I w o u l d like to one day if I die go to Heaven.

Elizabeth " B a m - b a m "

Ortii

Oh, my God. Look at Alex! That's my son! I look like I want to kill somebody. Nellie. She looks beat. Joe. This bum. Wow. The way years go by. I was addicted for fourteen years. I was in the street for seven and one-half years. I didn't have a place to live. I had my mother, but once you leave Momma's house you don't know how to go back. She had my son with her. I was wild. I was banging. I loved heroin. It's amazing that I got off it. And widout no help. My mother sent me away for o while and I kicked it on my own. Now I got an apartment and my son is with me. And I'm happy, because now I can really keep an eye on him. Before I couldn't.

1 9 8 8 : Looking a t her son, Alex

1978: Center; Alex Is at rear with plaid shirt

Maria Cruz I had depressions in New Y o r k . W e lived on Eleventh Street, and people w o u l d soy, Oh, you live w i t h the drugs. But my children d i d n ' t have any problems. It all depends on how you act. And we w e r e n ' t involved in any of that. I dedicated myself to raising my children. I w a s a l w a y s at home, w a t c h i n g t h e m , trying to guide t h e m . It w a s hord because we were poor, but there were good people there. I never w e n t off the block so that I w o u l d n ' t hove to take the children o w a y from that spot. M y life w a s lived right there. And there is w o r k in New Y o r k . It is 1 0 0 percent harder to find a job here. I a m happy that I have oil my f a m i l y here. There is more peocefulness than over there. Not in the cities, but in the country. And there's fruit growing w i l d here. In New Y o r k , you have to pay for anything you eat. Here, you can just go to the tree and t a k e it.

1 9 8 9 : W i t h her d a u g h t e r , E l i z a b e t h C r u z P é r e z , A r e c i b o , P u e r t o Rico

1 9 7 8 : S e a t e d w i t h h a n d t o her t a c e

Francisca "Doña Panchita" Torres Rivera José Muñiz: They let you get in that block? That block was real dangerous. All the drugs were there then. Doña Panchita: I was in my house. I never bother no one. I never had any problem with my children or with anyone. My husband was the owner of that building. Then he got sick, and he couldn't maintain it properly. The building organized in a rent strike, so we left it to the tenants to run and we came here. We lost all the things we left behind. My husband had worked in the U.S. for a long time, and we had saved, and we bought here, we built this little house. He is dead five years. I receive my social security. I feel calm. I get along with my neighbors. I have a daughter that lives right down there.

1 9 8 9 : G u o y a m a , Puerto Rico

1 9 7 8 : In t h e lobby of her h u s b a n d ' s building

Richard Morales HTC. Homeboys Together Chillin. And when we used to fight, we used to be Hord To Control. There was o good twentyfive, thirty of us. We didn't bother with the drug dealers, just with the young kids like us who think they were bad. Like staring at us, or throw our girls o kiss, disrespect us. As mony os we catch, we just beat them up. Payback time all the time. One night, we went to a party in the park, ¡ust to have fun, but we all went with bats and golf clubs, just in case. Two guys there wanted to be with the gang, so we told em, For initiation, you have to throw the first punch. We met our enemies, and there was a little hesitating, but they swang. They got the job done. So right there, all you hear is scattering, punches flying, and sticks. I was sliced on my elbow, two times on my hip, in my ribs, on my back. Like when your leg's osleep and you can't wolk on it? That's how my whole body felt. I lost a lot of blood. I went on hangin out. We went to the Village, started fighting the Skinheads, in Tompkins Park. Everybody came out with hockey sticks. C'mon, motherfuckers, c ' m o n . We broke bottles over their heads. It was crozy. I liked it, but then I was like, Domn. I graduated from high school. I w e n t upon myself to do the right thing, and now I go to college, with three others. I know I was doing wrong, but the way it was out here, that was something to be proud of.

1 9 8 9 : W i t h his sister, Lourdes

1 9 7 7 : In striped shirt, w i t h his sister, Lourdes, s e a t e d

José M u n i z I used to work at a drug spot. I wasn't scared. In the ghetto, if you're hustling in the streets, what happens to you, you gotto accept it. In here, I had a few problems. My first time upstate, I got into a fight with a corrections officer, so they sent me to Attica. Attico supposed to be for big time criminals, who got life, fifty to life, big time. I had people outside who were sending me everything I needed. And these older guys inside, they wanted it. They seen me, I was young. I was seventeen. Maybe they had in their mind they think they're gonnn fuck me too. I prefer one of them killing me. I hod to fight a lot. I got stabbed four times. Then you had some old timers from the Lower East Side there, and if you come, and you willing to fight or stab for whatever you got, then they'll back you up. But if you give yours up, they cut you off. Remember that guy that killed the cops, in Fifth Street? He knew me when I was a little kid. He wos there. You got Slim the Knife, from Eighth Street. You got Blue Boy, from the Avenue. They seen I was willing to fight, so they all stood up, and they soid, Don't worry about it. Everything's gonna be alright. I didn't hove no more problems after that.

1 9 8 8 : Arthurkill C o r r e c t i o n a l Facility

9 7 8 : S t a n d i n g at r e a l of car

1 9 7 7 : Jeanette Stella at her " S w e e t Sixteen" party, holding Lourdes Morales

Evalene Claudio: When I was growing up, they had like two cops to the neighborhood, and those two cops knew this whole entire neighborhood, knew the families and knew everybody. Now you got 6 0 , 0 0 0 cops out there. It seems like they'll stand in the drug spots and soy, Let's stop this business for a little while. Then it's, Lemme go on my break. They'll take a walk and everybody will come back and they'll do their dealing bullshit. The cops are out there enough to know all these people, what they're doing, who's doing what. But everything is just a job. If they hove so much cops out here, they should have none of these drug spots open. When something really happens, like they shot a cop or something, they know where all the dealers are, they know where all the drug places are. But they don't do nothing until something heavy like that comes down. I don't leave this neighborhood. I could only tell you what's happening here. I feel that my people ain't doin nothin. It's not like years ago. I guess a lot of leaders have died. Everybody's just layin back. I feel that it's much harder now for the kids thon it was for me. Like my son. He's a real good kid, but he's been left back three times. He's in the seventh grade and he's gonna be sixteen. Years ago, everything was done by hond. In these days, everything is that computer thing. You have to use your broin more now than you had to years ago. I feel it's going to be hard for my son. Automatically now, you go for an apartment, it's five, six hundred dollors. I never paid that kind of rent, but these kids have to. And according to society, unless you have the brains you're not going to have the good job to cover this rent. So I don't know what's going to happen to us. It's happening already, and people are not really realizing it. They fix these apartments up and they're charging not even six hundred dollars, a thousand dollars. That's not for the black or the Puerto Rican. The only reason you makin that kinda money is because you're involved in drugs. So

The

Future

automatically they're pushing the good people out. I really d o n ' t know w h o t ' s going to happen. I just take it out of my mind and live day by day. I just hope it works out for my kids. Clover S w a n n : Landlords are renovating old apartments. They're doing the plaster, taking buildings that were built to be tenements in the 1 8 0 0 s , raising the sink. Those old-style apartments, the sink is very low, which has thrilled my daughter because she's been able to wash at the sink since she was about three. I guess they built it for short Eastern European immigronts who d i d n ' t ' g e t enough to eat. When the landlord in my building re-does an apartment, he puts in a high sink and a new stove and a new refrigerator. He puts a shower in the kitchen. It's still in the kitchen, but it's a shower and not a bathtub. And it looks pretty spiffy. It's all legal, he's filed papers w i t h the city of how much money he spent on improving the apartment, and the rent he's gotten to jack up from like one hundred and fifty to seven hundred dollars. David Garcia: I see a change for the better, because I see a lot of preppies that are coming down, fixing old buildings. There's o new vibration, putting the neighborhood back. There's uniformed cops on every corner. It was a shooting gallery, now it's a art gallery. It's opening the minds of a lot of people. Angel " C o c o " V a l e n t i n : That used to be all Jewish, Italian, years back. The Puerto Ricans fought their way in there, so i t ' l l be hard to get em out. That's like o jungle over there. You gonna have to kill them people to get em outta there. Things are getting worse, not better. You got worse drugs now. You got crock. More killings. More robberies. And I d o n ' t know whose idea it was to start renting white people apartments, but a lot of white people are not too much into violence, end them people see white people comin in there, them people need a f i x , they're gonna start ripping people off. They know that white people gotta lot of money. When you on drugs, you catch a lotta heart. You

do anything. Ain't nothing gonna stop you. You don't give a fuck. Sooner or later, it's gonna hit the fan where they're gonna start robbin, killing innocent people just because they moved them in there. They trying-to better off the neighborhood, forcin white people to come in there, and these people are not gonna go for it. Them people grew up there, all their lives. It's like roaches. All the city can do is build new buildings, and what are they gonna h a v e ? You dealing drugs, you can buy that building. The only way they can get drugs out of there is, don't rent to blocks and Puerto Ricans. You can be what you want in the United States. They pay you for your college and everything. Puerto Ricans and blacks usually don't take advantage. All they know is how to deal drugs. So they gonna always stay like that. I ain't goin back to the neighborhood. The Lower East Side's like any slum, Harlem, Brownsville. It's like a dream. You always be dreomin of that dream, of that goal. And as long as you hang out in that neighborhood, where there's drugs and everything, you never gonna get that goal. I grew up over there and I turned just as bad as everybody else. I wanted to have the money, but look where it got me. Youngsters out there, they should learn, man, that what they see, it's not what they really want to be. If you just stay in the Lower East Side, you become one of them. No matter who. Howie Wheeler: There ain't no good future in this neighborhood. If you lived here for like twenty years, best thing is just to get out now. There's no future here. No future at all. You can't advance here. There's nuttin here to advance to. Move to another building that got more mice or somethin? Nah. Best thing is to just get out. As soon as I get my better job situation, I'm gone. I've had enough of this place. They've seen enough. I've lived here twentyseven years. Don't have to prove nuttin else. Eddie Santana: There is somewhere to go, man. There is opportunity. Gotta put in your hours. You want

s o m e t h i n g , y o u dedicate yourself. C o m e on now. You just got to find the motivation and the desire. T h e r e ' s discrimination, but w e ' r e given everything everyone else is given. I m e a n , there's a f e w Puerto Ricans that are actually doin it, actually living good, respectable lives. W e ' r e a minority, m a n , but you put in your hours, you could get w h a t e v e r you w a n t , in whatever field y o u w a n t to go with. Rafael "Blackie" Pacheco: The projects, the city owns e m , but there w a s talk a couple of y e a r s back about Trump buying e m . And Donald Trump is getting pretty big w h e n it comes to real estate. The rich g u y s are just slowly creeping in, and before y o u k n o w it these people are g o n n a be out in the street. H o m e l e s s . I think that Trump is g o n n a end up owning a l l Avenue D. Richard Morales: Lately, I see a lot more white people in the neighborhood. I ' m not g o n n a let t h e m t a k e over. Not m y home. My friends feel the s a m e w a y . If they try to m o v e i n , w e ' r e g o n n a beat them up, m a k e t h e m think a b o u t it twice. That's how it is. T h e y a l r e a d y look a t us like w e nobodies, and now they g o n n a try to take a w a y w h a t w e got. That's wrong. T h e y look a t us like, a l l they do is have babies, most of e m deal drugs. I care, but then I be like, I'll just deal with it, the w a y w e a l w a y s have. One d a y , w e ' r e g o n n a get our sunlight. W e ' l l be up there with t h e m . I have a lot of pride in m y Puerto Rican culture. T h a t ' s w h y I ' m g o n n a m a k e it out there. S h o w people Puerto Ricans can do it as well as whites and blacks. M y f i a n c e e wants to b e a psychologist. S h e ' s a t Hunter College. And I ' m a t Queensboro taking up business m a n a g e m e n t . I just w a n t to own a big c o m p a n y and be an executive, m a k e s o m e good m o n e y and get out of the neighborhood. I don't w a n t m y kids to grow up in this e n v i r o n m e n t b e c a u s e if kids grow up here, whatever you tell t h e m , they g o n n a find a w a y to get into it. Puerto Ricans, they k n o w w h a t ' s h a p p e n i n g , ond it's up to t h e m whether t h e y ' r e g o n n a let it h a p p e n to

them or they're gonna do something about it. I'm not gonna get pushed outta here. I see myself an important person. I don't want to be telling my kids what my father told me, Don't be like me. I want to do better than everybody. I survived, and I'm gonna do it out there. I'm gonna make if. Ivan "Pistol" González: I don't see nothing up ahead, man, if I don't get my shit together. I see a old man still talkin about the past, not doin nothin for the future. Heh. I'll tell you one thing. I don't want drugs involved in my future. I'm scared that if I start dealing drugs again, I'll start getting high again really heavy. Start losing weight. I don't want that shit in my future.

Geoffrey Biddle is a free-lance photographer whose work has appeared in GEO, U.S. News

&

World Report, The New York Times, Fortune, and Granta. His w o r k has been displayed at the Museum of M o d e r n Art in N e w York, and he was awarded the Essay of the Year Award from the Missouri School of Journalism for his 1977 Alphabet City photos. He lives on the Lower East Side in N e w York City.

Miguel Algarin is an internationally recognized poet and theatrical director and producer. Director of the Nuyorican Poets' Cafe on the Lower East Side, he has taught at Rutgers University since 1965.

Alphabet

City was designed by Lawrence Wolfson. Composition by Jack Huber, printing by

Becotte & Gershwin and binding by John H . Dekker and Sons, Inc. The text type is Sabon and Futura Light Condensed. The display type is Futura Bold Condensed.