On Broadway from 90th to 110th in the 1970s and 80s; Fragments 81-89 from Selected Squibs [by Alan Ziegler]

81. 96^th to 110^th on Broadway is commonly known as “No man’s land.”

82. Small, empty storefronts blossom into dedicated rose shops, a dollar a bunch. First there’s one, then many, then few, then none.

83. A stationery store has the saddest window display in the retail world. A few Bic pens strewn about, a couple of worn steno notebooks, a small box of paper clips. I actually need paper clips and open the door. The only sign of commerce: a few teller-like windows.

84. Prostitutes work openly on Broadway. When it rains, they go to the Grandstand Bar on 91^st and Broadway to retrieve their umbrellas. Faces become familiar; nods without solicitations. During the 1976 Democratic Convention, new faces appear, temporarily displaced by police from midtown. One asks me if I want to go out. I say what I sometimes say to the regulars, “I’m already out.” She replies, “Fuck you asshole.”

85. On the corner of Broadway and 106th Street one man says over and over, “Spare-some-change-appreciate-it?” in one William-Carlos-Williamsian American beat. A few times I see him give money to someone even less fortunate.

86. On 107th and Broadway, the guy with the brown corduroy jacket chants: “Spare some change for a cup of cawfeee?”

87. On Broadway between 99^th and 100^th, a pizzeria run by some kind of collective serves the first whole wheat pizza in the area and maintains a huge vat of homemade soup, ladled free of charge to the homeless. Occasionally they chant as they work.

88. A gaunt man in his thirties wears a gabardine trench coat no matter the temperature, skulks from block to block, getting kicked out from store to store. He disappears during the winter and somehow reappears as a harbinger of spring.

89. A cop walks the beat.