A LAWN TALE
By Tony Mitchelson
“Hey fella, wake up.”
“Uh, oh! Hey officer, what’s the problem?”
“You have to get up and move along, sir.”
“Why, what’s the problem?”
“Plain and simple guy, you can’t live here in the park.”
“Nothing is plain or simple when you’re awakened from a nice nap and given a vague statement like that. Who says I’m living in the park? What’s wrong with reading a bit and taking a nap during my lunch break? It’s a nice, sunny, summer day with lots of people out here relaxing and enjoying time around the ‘Great Lawn’.”
“I’m not talking about napping, buddy, I’m talking about living in the park like you are -- homeless. You can’t live in the park, sir. Pick your things up and move on.”
“I’m not homeless. Who told you that? I’ve got an apartment - even though I’m in court disputing with my landlord over it. Besides, my grandfather was born right here in this park. Doesn’t that give me some sort of right to visit the park and enjoy it like everyone else in this country?”
“I’m not talking about the country, fella, I’m talking about the park. You can’t live in here.”
“I’m talking about the err…your name tag says ‘Muldoon’. Sorry, Officer Muldoon, I’m talking about the park too. My name is Albert Williams. My grandfather was born right near where you are standing. Have you ever heard of Seneca Village? Check back to the 1800’s and you’ll find there were lots of my folks owning homes and living here. Just go back as far as 1932 and you’ll see where John Hart, the Deputy Parks Commissioner, staged a raid and razed a Hooverville settlement right from this very area. My father was a victim of that razing, even though my Great Grandfather owned a piece of this park space back in the mid-1800’s. Do you want the block and lock numbers for his properties? His name was Andrew Williams, the lot numbers were ….”
“I don’t need any lot numbers, sir. Those people are not here now. You should get moving now, buddy; out of the park!”
“You are hitting the nail right on the head, young man! They don’t live here anymore because someone moved them out. My landlord moved me out the same way. You ever worked out of the 32nd precinct or had a beat around 131st St and 7th Avenue?”
“No, this is my first tour area, Central Park.”
“You look just like one of those officers I took my complaint to at the station house on 135th Street when my landlord kicked me out illegally. I showed them the receipts for every single rent payment I made up to the day I got kicked out illegally. You figured one of them would have marched down those four blocks to the landlord’s office to straighten the matter out.”
“That sounds like an issue for the courts sir, not a police matter.”
“What are you trying to tell me, Officer Muldoon? If I do something illegal to my landlord, all he needs to do is make a simple phone call and it turns into a police matter. However, if he does something illegal to me, it becomes a court issue. Instead of just needing to make a phone call, I end up needing lots of money and a lawyer to justify my complaint. Doesn’t that strike you as odd, officer?”
“I don’t have time to listen to your story, guy. The courts will settle whatever your dispute is with your landlord. Now if you don’t want to end up in a precinct under different circumstances, I’d suggest you get up, grab your items, then exit the park.”
“I thought you were getting my point, officer. You see, I’m here to rest and relax on my lunch break. I’m not homeless. I’m an accountant and work for several churches in my community. When my wife died, I took on an extra job detailing cars at a nearby garage on Amsterdam Avenue to help put my son through college. That’s why I’m dressed in this orange denim attire, which I think you mistakenly identified as something homeless people wear. My son finished Morgan State University and is doing great living in Baltimore.
I find myself temporarily, but intentionally, displaced from where I lived; just like my ancestors did. My rights as a citizen and taxpayer are being violated. The city even issued a moratorium to prevent unscrupulous landlords from displacing people like me from their apartments so they can sell them for huge profits. Meanwhile I go to work six days a week, crowd in to live with some relatives, and try to take a break and enjoy some time in the park like everyone else out here. Along you come and give a different spin on my situation.”
“I’m just giving you the facts, fella.”
“The facts are Harlem and many other communities are changing now; just like Central Park did back in the days. They don’t have much need or concern for earth toilers or general workers anymore. They have hi-tech gizmos and people overseas doing the work nowadays. Don’t you find that ironic, officer?”
“What’s ironic?”
“From whence we came, Officer Muldoon.”
“What do you mean?”
“Somebody is still crossing oceans looking for cheap labor. Maybe I need to make my move to Africa. Do you know what Marcus Garvey started telling the people in New York back in 1916? He said that Black folks need to work at having their own homes, businesses, and saving their money towards…..”
“Command station, over! Hello, Command station, over! Officer Muldoon here. Back up and car needed right away in Central Park. We’ve got a situation on the Great Lawn!”
By Tony Mitchelson
“Hey fella, wake up.”
“Uh, oh! Hey officer, what’s the problem?”
“You have to get up and move along, sir.”
“Why, what’s the problem?”
“Plain and simple guy, you can’t live here in the park.”
“Nothing is plain or simple when you’re awakened from a nice nap and given a vague statement like that. Who says I’m living in the park? What’s wrong with reading a bit and taking a nap during my lunch break? It’s a nice, sunny, summer day with lots of people out here relaxing and enjoying time around the ‘Great Lawn’.”
“I’m not talking about napping, buddy, I’m talking about living in the park like you are -- homeless. You can’t live in the park, sir. Pick your things up and move on.”
“I’m not homeless. Who told you that? I’ve got an apartment - even though I’m in court disputing with my landlord over it. Besides, my grandfather was born right here in this park. Doesn’t that give me some sort of right to visit the park and enjoy it like everyone else in this country?”
“I’m not talking about the country, fella, I’m talking about the park. You can’t live in here.”
“I’m talking about the err…your name tag says ‘Muldoon’. Sorry, Officer Muldoon, I’m talking about the park too. My name is Albert Williams. My grandfather was born right near where you are standing. Have you ever heard of Seneca Village? Check back to the 1800’s and you’ll find there were lots of my folks owning homes and living here. Just go back as far as 1932 and you’ll see where John Hart, the Deputy Parks Commissioner, staged a raid and razed a Hooverville settlement right from this very area. My father was a victim of that razing, even though my Great Grandfather owned a piece of this park space back in the mid-1800’s. Do you want the block and lock numbers for his properties? His name was Andrew Williams, the lot numbers were ….”
“I don’t need any lot numbers, sir. Those people are not here now. You should get moving now, buddy; out of the park!”
“You are hitting the nail right on the head, young man! They don’t live here anymore because someone moved them out. My landlord moved me out the same way. You ever worked out of the 32nd precinct or had a beat around 131st St and 7th Avenue?”
“No, this is my first tour area, Central Park.”
“You look just like one of those officers I took my complaint to at the station house on 135th Street when my landlord kicked me out illegally. I showed them the receipts for every single rent payment I made up to the day I got kicked out illegally. You figured one of them would have marched down those four blocks to the landlord’s office to straighten the matter out.”
“That sounds like an issue for the courts sir, not a police matter.”
“What are you trying to tell me, Officer Muldoon? If I do something illegal to my landlord, all he needs to do is make a simple phone call and it turns into a police matter. However, if he does something illegal to me, it becomes a court issue. Instead of just needing to make a phone call, I end up needing lots of money and a lawyer to justify my complaint. Doesn’t that strike you as odd, officer?”
“I don’t have time to listen to your story, guy. The courts will settle whatever your dispute is with your landlord. Now if you don’t want to end up in a precinct under different circumstances, I’d suggest you get up, grab your items, then exit the park.”
“I thought you were getting my point, officer. You see, I’m here to rest and relax on my lunch break. I’m not homeless. I’m an accountant and work for several churches in my community. When my wife died, I took on an extra job detailing cars at a nearby garage on Amsterdam Avenue to help put my son through college. That’s why I’m dressed in this orange denim attire, which I think you mistakenly identified as something homeless people wear. My son finished Morgan State University and is doing great living in Baltimore.
I find myself temporarily, but intentionally, displaced from where I lived; just like my ancestors did. My rights as a citizen and taxpayer are being violated. The city even issued a moratorium to prevent unscrupulous landlords from displacing people like me from their apartments so they can sell them for huge profits. Meanwhile I go to work six days a week, crowd in to live with some relatives, and try to take a break and enjoy some time in the park like everyone else out here. Along you come and give a different spin on my situation.”
“I’m just giving you the facts, fella.”
“The facts are Harlem and many other communities are changing now; just like Central Park did back in the days. They don’t have much need or concern for earth toilers or general workers anymore. They have hi-tech gizmos and people overseas doing the work nowadays. Don’t you find that ironic, officer?”
“What’s ironic?”
“From whence we came, Officer Muldoon.”
“What do you mean?”
“Somebody is still crossing oceans looking for cheap labor. Maybe I need to make my move to Africa. Do you know what Marcus Garvey started telling the people in New York back in 1916? He said that Black folks need to work at having their own homes, businesses, and saving their money towards…..”
“Command station, over! Hello, Command station, over! Officer Muldoon here. Back up and car needed right away in Central Park. We’ve got a situation on the Great Lawn!”
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