Saturday Night Out, 1978

So, I'm home from college with a buddy from the Midwest. It's Spring, 1976. After a nice home cooked meal at my mother's house in the Bronx, I take him downtown for a pub crawl. We start in the Village, and we end up in Times Square in the wee hours. We ended up pulling an all-nighter at several now long-defunct establishments. As it turned out, we also ran ourselves out of money. So, I walked up to the nearest available hooker, and asked her if she could spare subway fare for two. To sweeten the deal, I promised to come back! She snapped her gum, rolled her eyes, and handed me the fare. Soon we were on our way home to the Bronx. Of course, I never went back. My friend still talks about that night. The city is full of unexpected charity!

Sometime around then - '79? '80'? - I, too, was held up at gunpoint. A relatively new arrival to the city (Sept '77) it changed my perception of and love for this place not one bit. It was a fantastic, exciting city then, and only a bit less so now. I wouldn't exchange those hold ups, apartment break-ins and stolen possessions for life in a lesser city for anything.

I have a mugging story like that. Thanks for reminding me - it might make a good Diary submission!

Sounds like Ray was already a NY'er.

In 1979 I lived in a walkup on 54th between 9th and 10th. The area was still pretty rough. On the first floor of the building were a couple of neighborhood guys who may or may not have had a connection with the Westies. They were nice guys who treated me well and tried to school me a little about where it was I was living. I was 19, fresh from the Long Island suburbs, and pretty naive. But did I love living there. I came home one evening after work and found my apartment had been robbed. They even took my telephone. I went down to the first floor and asked the guys if I could use their phone to call the police. They asked me to hold off on that because they thought they might know who had robbed me. Again, I was 19 and green as grass. About an hour or so later they knocked on my door. With them was a teenager, younger than me, with my stereo, TV, and phone. He was contrite and apologetic and clearly terrified. He said he had no idea I was the cousin of the first floor residents and would make sure to never step foot in the building again. I was smart enough to be speechless. Ahhhhh....only in NYC baby. I moved to Kew Gardens a few weeks after that.

I fondly remember the good old days of NYC. Of going to the St. Paddy’s Day parade with friends and a fifth of blueberry brandy in a paper bag. When the cops looked the other way or jokingly asked for a sip. Before Giuliani became mayor and sucked the life out of the city.

Ah, Chelsea. I moved to 20th and 10th in 1979 until 1994. In '79 I was 25. Last brownstone before 10th Ave, across from the seminary. 458. So, little foot traffic and quiet back then, except sometimes tranny fights on 10th late at night. It was a ghost town that far west. Anita Morris and Patti Lupone lived on my block, James Earl Jones had a studio in my building. In 1980 I was followed from a NYCE (remember?) bank on 23rd with cash for a morning furniture delivery. Headphones on, groceries in arms. Oblivious. Followed into my vestibule by 2 kids, 15-16, yeah, my uncle lives in the building. Bells ring, big mistake, face slapped, groceries dropped, bag ripped off. Now chasing 3 kids up 10th and right on 21st, followed by my neighbor Jerold, trying to yell help, not so easy to do I found out. Believe it or not, 2 out of three got caught immediately (under car and by brownstone steps) and the 3rd dropped a knife before escaping towards 9th Ave. The next night the 3rd was caught trying to use my bank card. Went to Family and Criminal Courts (different ages) and got back most of the money, hard to believe. The best-7 or 8 years later I get a call from the MTA. Did I lose my wallet? It was found under a subway seat. So I got back some IDs and the wallet itself. Full circle. And I learned a life lesson (it was the knife and the headphones) which I've never forgotten. Always know who is behind you, and leave off the headphones late at night.

it was a good thing that you did as you were asked. I would guess that you learned (the hard way) that you never keep all of your money in one pocket. One of the tricks in life is not to repeat mistakes. It is a bit different now; a thief (pickpocket or mugger) wants your smartphone. My flip phone would likely anger a thief.

My mom talked of a mugging in the 70's too. One day she came home to find a package at her door: they had mailed back her purse and all its contents... minus the cash!

— 'Ray, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore... — Yes, Marco, but'...

I was a student at Barnard in the early 70’s and have no recollection of feeling that nyc was a dangerous place. Like Marco I loved exploring the city on foot, would sometimes walk all day. I guess we lived in blissful ignorance.

The 1970s include David Berkowitz' terrifying series of killings of young people in the city; the bombings of Fraunces Tavern and LaGuardia Airport; widespread student unrest; heroin as the drug of choice; numerous police killings and the layoffs of thousands of officers due to a devastating fiscal crisis where President Ford told the city to "Drop Dead." New York was certainly a different place in the 1970s with a homicide total of almost 2,000. Happily Marco and his classmate walked away from this experience. unharmed. Given those times we could have read a much different narrative here.

What a crummy welcome to the city Marco. One can never really apologize for what others do but this native New Yorker wishes you and Ray had enjoyed a happier night out. That was a bad time in the city, about midway between the movie “Death Wish” and the incident on the subway involving Bernhard Goetz. I am glad you and Ray were able to walk away from that scary encounter unharmed, and I hope your subsequent experiences in the city were far more pleasant.

Thoughtful robbers!? Only in New York.

What became of Ray, forty years later?