EDITORIAL

THE NEW LAW AND ORDER

THIS MIGHT SEEM LIKE AN unlikely moment for City
Limits to do a special section on the excesses of
law enforcement in New York City. Old-fash-
ioned street crime and the official response to it
are simply not the dangers on most New Yorkers'
minds these days, even among residents of neigh-
borhoods that have seen far more than their share
of them. At a time when National Guardspeople
watch over commuters at Grand Central, fending
off assailants who use violence for ends that their
victims can barely understand, the memory of a
world in which the defining struggle was between
cops and criminals reads almost like a children's
story of cowboys and Indians.
And yet on the home front, the smell of hope
emerges. The national discussion surrounding
the mass detentions of immigrants and the
prospect of military tribunals is doing some-
thing that hasn't happened in memory: It's forc-
ing Americans-hardly everyone, but
enough-to reckon with the infrastructure of
crime, enforcement, and punishment, as our
government erects a new apparatus that pushes
the Constitution to limits it's never seen before.
Cover photo by Joshua Zuckerman
When, if ever, is it acceptable to detain someone
based on their appearance? What are the perils
of prosecuting murder on the fast track, with a
de facto presumption of guilt? How do we work
to ensure a workable, enduring peace, instead of
the political goals of a few? By the very fact that
the Bush administration has closed these and
other questions to public input, they have sur-
faced with some force in public life, even in
media that generally prefer to serve propaganda
outlets for the administration.
There's a new impulse to forgive police for
past transgressions in the name of promoting
public safety; we're all in the same struggle
together, and some have given their lives for the
cause. If police accept that forgiveness, and take
their role as peacemakers seriously, is that such
a terrible thing? The growing public rejection of
capital punishment and mandatory sentencing
show that we're prepared to rethink local crime-
fighting. Compared with the new and (to many
Americans) inscrutable international enemy,
homegrown muggers and drug dealers, even
rapists and killers, are known threats, with
motivations that are well understood by those
who've cared to inquire. We have decades of
close study of what works and what doesn't to
guide us; why not use it to forge sustainable
responses to crime, from root causes on up?
The stories in this issue are about the possi-
bility of remaking the ways we understand
crime and punishment, and the flawed institu-
tions of enforcement that we take for granted.
Don't just take it from us in the peanut gallery;
from state juvenile justice officials to city
parole officers, people are starting to say, in
these pages and elsewhere, that we need to
reconsider law enforcement-by-bulldozer.
Nearly three years ago, at the height of pub-
lic outrage over the police killing of Amadou
Diallo, we asked a panel of criminal justice
reform activists whether they thought their
budding movement had a future. There are
two ways to go from here: into the light of a
will to realize its potential, or into the abyss of
deeper hostilities.
-Alyssa Katz
Editor
CITY LIMITS
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12 SECOND CHANCE ENCOUNTER
Kids who steal and deal don't just go to juvey jail-
. ~ they're also likely to return to prison soon after they're released.
Now, bucking get-tough wisdom, New York State is trying to
pave a permanent path home.
By Nora McCarthy
16 THE COURAGE OF HIS
CONVICTION
At 39, Colin Warner has spent more than half his life in jail-without
committing a crime. But after 21 years of mistaken incarceration,
justice may be almost as elusive as it was the first time around.
By Curtis Harris
22 CROSSING THE LINE
The streets of Fort Greene have a lot going for them: elegant
brownstones, shady trees, hip cafes and zealous police patrols.
An aggressive cop crackdown on parolees and project-dwellers
now divides the neighborhood into two halves:
the suspected and the protected.
By Sasha Abramsky
5 FRONTLINES:
FROM WELFARE TO WORK TO THE GRAVE ....
HOMELESS AT GROUND ZERO .... THE
YOUNG COLLEGE TRY .... KEEPING CLOSE
COUNCIL. ... COP ON TOP ... .JOBS BRASS
WORK TOO FAST? ... TENANTS TAKE
THE LEAD ... PEACE'S LAST STAND
2 EDITORIAL
4 LETTERS
34 JOB ADS
36 PROFESSIONAL DIRECTORY
38 OFFICE OF THE CITY VISIONARY
JANUARY 2002
CONTENTS
27 THE BIG IDEA
Bringing New York's schools under mayoral control may
be a hot idea, but other cities are learning a painful lesson:
taking power from the boards doesn't take the politics out of schools.
By Rekha Balu
29 CITY LIT
Downtown: Its Rise and Fall, 1880-1950, by Robert M. Fogelson.
Reviewed by Keith Kloor
31 MAKING CHANGE
Organizations advocating for immigrant workers are racking up
unprecedented victories in the courts. Are they giving up their
strength on the streets? By Hilary Russ
3
LETTERS
THE MALIGNED MIDDLE
As a rent-regulated tenant, I was a bit taken
aback by Alyssa Katz' "Housing is Hell"
Duly/August 2001], when she wrote: "Strictly
by the numbers, middle-class renters are not
facing a crisis." This at the same time that
newspapers report that Stuyvesant Town and
the Peter Cooper Village are going off regula-
tion for new tenants and that the Belnord wants
$25,000 a month for vacant apartments. Mean-
while, rent-regulated apartments are under
siege, thanks to the Republican state legislature
and so-called Democrats like City Council
speaker Peter Vallone. It was Vallone who
rammed through City Council the 1994 decon-
rrollaw: Since then, about 24,000 rent-regulat-
ed apartments have been lost. We are rushing to
the point where the middle class will be forced
out and Manhattan will become the borough of
the vety rich and the very poor.
John R. Cochran
LINGERING LIEN DOUBTS
Matt Pacenza's article outlining the history,
mechanics, and fiscal dimensions of tax lien
sales, "The Lien Machine," [November 2001]
is an excellent study of a little understood
policy initiative of the Giuliani Administration.
And better yet, he has underlined the lingering
doubts that a lot of housing and community
advocates continue to express.
The story makes it clear that there are still
many unanswered questions. We don't know the
ultimate outcomes associated with the $31,000
tax lien sales. We don't know how local commer-
cial and residential buildings and neighborhoods
have been changed by these sales. We also don't
know all the costs associated with what is essen-
tially a privatized bad-debt collection process. We
do know that the costs of hiring bond sale admin-
istrators, bank trustees, for-profit collection agen-
cies and politically connected law firms all reduce
the city's net revenue.
Several of these unanswered questions
might best be answered by a city comptroller's
audit of this five-year experiment in housing
and fiscal policy. Congratulations to City Lim-
its for generating such a provocative article.
Glenn Pasanen
Associate Director, City Project
KEEPING ROOF OVERHEAD
"This Sold House" [December 2001] doesn't
confront the issue of how much subsidy poor
owners should be entitled to. New York's proper-
ty tax system already subsidizes single-family
homes, which are underassessed as a class. This
4
effectively raises the ptoperty taxes paid by busi-
nesses, renters and co-op and condo owners.
If an owner can't afford New York City's
property taxes (lower than in many jurisdictions
because of our reliance on the progressive
income tax), then perhaps he is living beyond
his means. This appears to be the case with the
senior citizen in the story who couldn't afford to
pay $6,000 of back taxes. Had he sold his
$200,000 house and moved to a rental, he
would have received another subsidy (senior cit-
izens are exempt from capital gains taxes on the
sale of a house) and the house would have been
made available to a younger family, perhaps one
with children who needed the space. With
many New Yorkers living in desperate need of
housing, this gentleman seems a weak candidate
for scarce subsidy dollars.
As Larian Angelo of the City Council staff
notes in the article, if classes of people are
exempted from property tax lien foreclosure,
New York's budget will take a hit. How does
City Limits expect to pay for all the subsidy pro-
grams it advocates without tax revenue coming
in to fund them?
Jay Weiser
Associate Professor of Law
Zicklin School of Business, Baruch Col/ege
CLEARING MUDDY WATERS
Thank you for a very good series on tax lien
sales. I have contended for sometime that con-
sidering how much work goes into promoting
home ownership, tax lien sales, as well as sewer
and water liens, are not given enough attention
by advocates and government officials. Many of
the same players involved in tax lien sales are
buying liens for back water and sewer assess-
menrs; it is a very lucrative business for these
bottom-feeders.
For groups engaged in advocacy, education
and counseling related to homeownership, lien
sales are an important but poorly understood
part of the mix. I hope your series will spur not
just more awareness but better tracking,
research, policy action and advocacy to preserve
the ownership interest on homes by low- and
moderate-income folks everywhere.
Ray Neirinckx
Rhode Island Housing Resources Commission
CORRECTION
In "Butler's Last Stand," [Nov. 2001], City
Limits incorrectly reported that a criminal
investigation found Stanley Hill guilty of rig-
ging a contract vote in the public employees
union DC 37. In fact, Hill's top deputies were
convicted of rigging the vote; Hill resigned.
CITY LIMITS
Volume XXVI Number 1
City Limits is published ten times per year, monthly except bi-
monthly issues in July/August and September/October, by the
City Limits Community Information Service, Inc., a nonprofit
organization devoted to disseminating information concerning
neighborhood revitalization.
Publisher: Kim Nauer
Associate Publisher: Anita Gutierrez
Editor: Alyssa Katz
nauer@citylimits.org
anita@citylimits.org
alyssa@citylimits.org
mcmillan@citylimits.org
annia@citylimits.org
Managing Editor: Tracie McMillan
Senior Editor: Annia Ciezadlo
Senior Editor: Jill Grossman
Associate Editor: Matt Pacenza
jgrossman@citylimits.org
matt@citylimits.org
Contributing Editors: James Bradley, Wendy Davis, Michael
Hirsch, Kemba Johnson, Nora McCarthy,
Robert Neuwirth
Design Direction: Hope Forstenzer
Producti on Assistant: Vee Bravo
Photographers: Simon Lee, Gregory P. Mango, Mayita Mendez
Contributing Photo Editor: Joshua Zuckerman
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BOARD OF OIRECTORS'
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Tom Robbins, Journalist
Ira Rubenstein, Emerging Industries Alliance
Makani Themba-Nixon
Pete Williams, National Urban League
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CITY LIMITS
FRONT LINES
Larger Than Life
AFTER SPENDING COUNTlESS HOURS FIGHTING for higher wages and a
grievance procedure for people working in welfare jobs, Jose Nicolau
never made the time to talk up the issue that most affected his life: a lack
of access to health care.
Nicolau and two other participants in the city's Work Experience Pro-
gram star in a new documentary, A Day's Work, A Day's Pay, about their
efforts to lobby the city for job reforms. But at a screening in October at
the home of producer Kathy Leichter, Nicolau was present only on the
screen. The event was in fact a memorial service: He died on September
27, at the age of 45.
A recovered heroin addict, Nicolau suffered from cirrhosis of the liver.
Immediately after leaving his workfare job as a janitor last January for a
position as a mailroom clerk at Chase Manhattan Bank, the city closed his
case and eliminared his medical benefits. His new post, classified as tem-
porary, did not provide health insurance, and at $150 a week, the med-
ication Nicolau relied on to keep his liver going became unaffordable.
Nicolau stopped taking it about 9 months before his death.
"Jose was a very big fighter," says Annette Jimenez, Nicolau's girl-
friend, who credits him for inspiring her to become a community organ-
izer. "But he fought for everyone and forgot to fight for himself. "
Now, the producers of A Day's Work plan to use his 50 minutes of
fame to help train others to mobilize around issues affecting their daily
JANUARY 2002
lives. Mint Leaf Productions has already screened the filin for several
community groups and college students as part of their Workfare Media
Initiative. Says Leichter, "Several viewers came up to me and said,
' Watching it on screen, I felt like I could do that.'"
The film chronicles the lives of Nicolau, Juan Galan and Jackie Mane in
their quest from 1997 to 2000 to push a bill through the City Council thar
created a few thousand minimum-wage jobs for people on welfare, along with
a second piece of legislation that established a grievance procedure for com-
plaints about inadequate work conditions. (In WEP, Nicolau earned $68 for
70 hours of work.)
Nicolau never got to see his work turned into action, because the
Giuliani Administration refused to enforce the laws. A few months ago,
however, the city began placing New Yorkers approaching their five-year
limit on federal welfare benefits into $9.38-an-hour jobs in the parks and
with the housing authority and other agencies.
Reforms can't stop there, though, says Leichter, particularly with the
changing of the guard in City Hall and the upcoming renewal of the fed-
eral Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunities Reconciliation Act.
Mayor Michael Bloomberg "doesn't know much about us, so we have
to get to him, " says Stephen Bradley of Community Voices Heard, which
is collaborating on the Media Initiative. "If Bloomberg's with us, it' ll be
clear sailing. If he's not, it's a battle. " - Mark Greer
5
FRONT LINES
The Sheltering Skyscraper
The collapse of
the Twin Towers
wiped out a home.
By Carol Lee
THE WORLD TRADE CENTER HAD been the roof
over Richard Morelli's head, the walls of his
bedroom and his neighborhood. "They call me
the mayor of Greenwich Street," says the one-
time Wall Street trader, who has lived in and
6
around the twin towers since the 1980s.
Now two police officers guard the southern
tip of his fiefdom, where few stores are open
and pedestrians must show LD. to get to Lib-
erty Street. Lucky for him, he chose to spend
the evening of September lOin Greensrreets
Park, three blocks south of the towers. He fig-
ured he'd meet up with his buddies in the
morning, after checking on the guys at Fire-
house No. 10. He is the "mayor," after all.
Of course, the next morning, nothing went as
planned. Jolted awake by the roar of the airplane
piercing the first tower, Morelli abandoned his
plastic bag of clothes and blankets and headed
north to Caracello, a Greenwich Street restaurant
where he sometimes worked odd jobs. Minutes
after learning that his old boss and his boss' wife
were safe, Morelli heard the first tower beginning
to crumble. Rolling smoke and ash chased him
west to the river, and he eventually made his way
to South Ferry. "I was covered in dust, debris; 1
don't even know what 1 was covered in," he
recalls. "I lost my clothes, my home, everything. "
Morelli is one of about seven homeless peo-
ple known to have lived in the Trade Center
prior to the disaster. Two of them have been
missing since September 11, according to Scott
Williams, director of World Trade Center Out-
reach at Project Renewal, a service organization
for New York's homeless. When the program
began six years ago, at least 30 homeless people
lived in the twin towers, says Williams. All but
a few responded to referrals to shelters, mental
health facilities and detox programs.
Morelli, whose gray beard, bad back, puffy
hands, jaundiced eyes and calloused skin make
him look much older than his 58 years, stuck
around. So did Mr. Man, the self-appointed
mayor of the towers, along with Carlos, Carlos
II, Jack, Angel and Ruth. "They depend on one
another for support," says Williams, who has
neither seen nor heard from Mr. Man or Carlos
II since the towers fell. Williams refuses to
assume the worst, however. "I imagine that I'll
run into [them]," he says, noting that he recent-
ly found Angel in a 34th street subway station.
Like Angel, many of the Financial District's
homeless residents have moved north since the
attacks. "People on the streets were affected by
it as we all were, " says J.D. Clarke, director of
Community Ministry at St. Bartholomew's
Church on 51st Street and Park Avenue. The
church's kitchen, which has served breakfast to
homeless people two days a week, has been
dishing out about 50 more meals a sitting, he
says, noting that the church recently added an
additional day to its program. "Unfortunately,
they're the forgotten ones. We'll never know
how many homeless people are missing from
the effects of the disaster."
Williams, however, is confident that they
will recover. "They're survivors and this is one
more thing they've had to survive," he says.
Morelli's life certainly has been a series of dis-
ruptions and survival. Once a dapper man with
the looks of a young Frankie Avalon and the
demeanor of Tony Soprano, Morelli graduated
from Holy Cross High School in Queens in 1961
and, following the legacy of Morelli men, became
a trader on the floor of the New York Stock
CITY LIMITS
t
Exchange. He remembers always carrying at least $200
in his wallet to spend at the Pussycat Lounge, a strip club
on the corner of Greenwich and Rector streets.
Since living on the streets, the closest he gets to the
Pussycat Lounge is sleeping in the "dugout" a few
doors down. With the lining of his silky blue jacket
torn and the name "Mike" stitched on its left breast,
Morelli lacks the polish and optimism of his young
adulthood. "Look at me, " he says, pulling on his jack-
et's exposed sruffing. ''I'm a wreck."
His downfall starred in the 1970s, when his gambling
addiction cost him and his family their Long Island
home. Just as the towers went up, his wife left him and
he lost his job. He doused his misery with shots of vodka
at the Velvet Cup on Northern Boulevard, where he
once climbed onto the bar and sang his favorite Elvis
Presley song, "The Wonder of You," a privilege Morelli
says the owner only bestowed to regulars. "I got disgust-
ed with myself," he says. "I gave up."
In 1978, Morelli traded his apartment on 161st
Street and Flushing for a cell in the Queens House of
Detention, where he served eight months for bank rob-
bery. When he got out of jail, he moved in with his son
John in Coral Springs, Florida. But his affection for the
city that reared him pulled him back three years later. "I
love my New York," he says with a toothless smile.
Back in the city, Morelli says he started sleeping in
the subway stations. He'd just settled in at the Port
Authority on 42nd Street when his pal, Bandanna Joe,
told him that life under the twin towers beat the hell
out of those grimy digs. He joined Joe on the PATH
platform beneath the trade center, a lucrative location,
according to Williams of Project Renewal. ' ~ of the
stockbrokers and floor traders are coming in from New
Jersey early in the morning and they're right there with
their hats out," Williams says of Morelli and his pals.
Generous restaurants and 24-hour indoor shelter also
made the rowers appealing and, consequently,
Williams' job more difficult. "Clients constantly
returned because they liked the WTC," he says.
Morelli's children say they have tried to get him
our of the trade center, too. Bur, says his son, John,
"his heyday was being on Wall Street, being on the
floor of the New York Stock Exchange, and he can't
forget that. He won't leave the area."
Richard Morelli has had a hard time accepting
changes to the neighborhood. He tries to get into the
World Trade Center he remembers every day. Bur
there's a fence around it now, and the military and the
police always turn him away. So he sits on the south-
east corner of Greenwich and Morris streets watching
trucks loaded with pieces of his old horne disappear
inside the Battery Tunnel. "After they clean it all up,
they'll give me my house back," he says. "It'll take
time, but I know they will. So, I'll live with it. I got
nowhere to go. They took my horne."
Carol Lee is a Manhattan-based freelance writer.
JANUARY 2002
FRONTLINES
URBANLEGEND
College Prep
Paul Whyte doesn't have much privacy. But the soft-spoken 30-year-old with glasses, a
boyish face and shy confidence doesn't even flinch when teenagers and coworkers barge
into his small office at an East Harlem family service agency. He barely registers his lack
of alone time, particularly, he says, given how much his students have suffered in the
last few months: first the fear and isolation most felt after the World Trade Center attack,
and then, for one student, the loss of six relatives to the crash of Flight 587 in Queens.
Whyte's days as a coordinator for the Supportive Children'S Advocacy Network's pro-
gram for high school students at risk of dropping out bustle with lengthy work hours,
overnight college tours and home visits. "There's a way about him when he's working
with kids, he diffuses the edge," says Nick Mauarella, the principal at Park East High
School , where Whyte is an assistant math teacher and an outreach counselor.
With an accent that retains little evidence of his Gun Hill upbringing, Whyte says his
students may think he's a little square. But he's focused on giving them the encourage-
ment he wishes he'd had at their age. As a senior at Truman High School in the Bronx,
Whyte told his guidance counselor he was applying to Ivy League schools. The counselor
suggested he shoot for something lower. "I remember thinking, 'I am the fourth-ranked
student in the school. What are they saying to other people if they are telling me not to
try?'" he says. Whyte ignored the counselor and received degrees from Yale and Harvard.
Now, for two-and-a-half years, he's been offering 115 students tutoring, SAT prep,
counseling, and intense general support. And their efforts work. Ninety percent of teens
in SCAN's programs go to college, compared with only 10 percent of all students at Park
East. "He doesn't see himself as a genius, just [proof that] given the opportunity, you
can do well in life," says SCAN executive director Lewis Zuchman. "For our kids, that's
validation. " -Jessica Ricci
7
FRONT llNES
Council Gets Fresh
New electeds want a new order, but
business as usual could do them in.
By Jill Grossman
THEY WON'T TAKE THE OATH of office for another
few weeks, but the new members of the City
Council are already eyeing the clock on their first
term. With only two years until redistricting
forces another election on them-federal law
requires states to redraw district lines every 10
years to reflect new U.S. Census data-they want
to make sure the council leadership lets them
move ahead on their agendas from day one.
So a few handfuls of new Democratic coun-
cilmembers have banded together to try to tip
the longstanding balance of power both inside
and out of the legislature. Calling themselves
the Fresh Democracy Council, their rallying
cry is changing the role of the council speaker
from that of a centralized political dealmaker,
embodied by departing Speaker Peter Vallone,
to one of facilitator.
"Power should be more decentralized," says
Charles Barron, the councilmember-elect in East
New York and one of the leaders of the group,
which counted 19 members in late November.
8
For starters, they want the entire council to
elect the members of a new committee that
would carry out the influential task of selecting
committee chairs. In the past, the speaker has
appointed the council's rules committee, which
selects chairs for every other committee. The
practice provides the speaker with substantial
influence over council leadership and a signifi-
cant way to reward allies and punish members
who step out of line-a power that former
speaker Peter Vallone put to use. The Fresh
Democracy Council also wants each commit-
tee to be able to hire its own staff, rather than
relying on employees who are hired by and ulti-
mately report to the speaker.
Under the status quo, current council mem-
bers complain, the understanding is that if the
speaker doesn't support legislation, it simply
doesn't happen. "Bills can be held up arbitrarily,"
says four-year councilmember Bill Perkins of
Harlem, a candidate for speaker and a supporter
of many of FDC's ideas. Months after helping
sponsor legislation supporting transgender rights
and reparations for slavery, he says he does not
know where those bills are. "Ask the council," he
says. "And when you find out, let me know."
This is not the first time these reforms, mod-
eled in part on procedures in the U.S. Congress,
have been pushed in the City Council. Ten years
ago, the New York Public Interest Research
Group proposed a slate of changes that included
some of those now under discussion by Fresh
Democracy. With Vallone already settled into his
seat, victories then were few; mandatory public
disclosure of councilmembers' campaign spend-
ing was the only rule change put on the books.
"The speaker had such total control,"
remembers outgoing councilmember Ronnie
Eldridge, an advocate for reform in 1991. The
bulk of the changes, says Eldridge "never hap-
pened because people were afraid of antagoniz-
ing him."
Now, however, as she packs up her Upper West
Side office, Eldridge wishes she were a part of this
new group of councilmembers. "Undoubtedly
there will be changes in the rules this time," she
says, noting that the reformers already have more
support than she ever had-her proposals, she
recalls, never got more than eight votes.
But some members of the Fresh Democra-
cy crew want to take no chances. To consoli-
date their influence, they say, they'll have to
play the same game as everyone else looking
for power in the new council: back a single
candidate for speaker, in the first real contest
for the post since 1986. "If the new speaker
does not accept our ideas, they'll be put to the
side and we'll have business as usual," says
Queens councilmember Allan Jennings, who
spearheaded the freshman effort the day after
the September 25 primary. With several other
caucuses vying to select the next speaker, Jen-
nings hopes Fresh Democracy will be first to
endorse a candidate for speaker. "We're trying
to set the tone," says Jennings.
But other councilmembers say it's unrealistic,
even dangerous, to expect reform-minded coun-
cilmembers to forego their existing political loy-
alties in order to back a Fresh Democracy candi-
date for speaker. "I don't think it's going to hap-
pen," says David Weprin of eastern Queens.
"There are too many people with too many inter-
ests in other places." Weprin, for one, says he
could be the Queens Democratic organization's
candidate should Democratic Party leader Tom
Manton-the city's most powerful county party
chief-<iecide to put someone up from his bor-
ough. Also in the works was a possible deal
CITY LIMITS
between Manton and Brooklyn Democratic
Chair Clarence Norman to get Angel
Rodriguez of Sunset Park in as speaker and
Weprin appointed finance committee chair.
Labor unions, to which some FDC members
owe their elections, are also expected to weigh
in on the race.
The Fresh Democracy Council itself
includes at least two other aspirants for the
speaker job. AI Vann, a former assemblymem-
ber from Bedford Stuyvesant, says he will defi-
nitely seek the post. Bill DeBlasio of Park Slope
has also expressed interest.
A contentious debate over the candidates
could make or break the Fresh Council, their
Cop In
CITY COUNCIL CANDIDATES are hardly household
names, but there was one this year: James E.
Davis, whose ubiquitous billboards, posters and
mailings turned the little-known political
wannabe into the unexpected victor for the City
Council seat in Fort Greene and Crown Heights.
A police officer and ordained minister, Davis
had run for office four times since 1996, losing
by increasingly close margins. This year, however,
with outgoing Councilmember Mary Pinkett
supporting him, he had the edge to finally put his
real secret weapon to the test: Love Yourself/Stop
the Violence, a nonprofit organization he found-
proposals and the political future of its members.
"It will bring us all together," says Barron
hopefully.
"Or further apart," retorts James Sanders, a
member from Queens.
And, of course, caucus members could agree
to support a candidate who then goes on to
lose, putting them all out of the power circle.
While several speaker hopefuls, including fron-
trunners Gifford Miller and Rodriguez, have
expressed varying degrees of interest in the
proposals, some contenders are no fans of the
Fresh Democracy crusade. Phil Reed of the
Upper West Side and Harlem says the propos-
als are fine, "as long as they stay as proposals.
ed in 1990 "to unite inner-city communities and u
teach them self-love and respect," according to its
web site. For the last seven years, the group has
sponsored annual parades and rallies promoted
on posters and large billboards prominently fea-
turing Davis' name and smiling face.
This fall, Davis took his opposition by sur-
prise, defeating the highly favored Letitia James
in the Democratic primary. His victory pushed
James' legion of supporters-including Brook-
lyn's Democratic organization, several major
unions and most of the area's elected leaders-
to continue her campaign through the general
election on the Working Families Party line.
James made the best showing of any local third-
party candidate since the 1940s, receiving 42
percent of the vote, but it was too little, too late.
Davis' detractors still refused to give up. The
day before the election, an aide to Assembly-
member Roger Green, who supports James and
is her former boss, filed a complaint about
Davis' finances with the city's Campaign
Finance Board. Among other things, Janella
JANUARY 2002
Meeks charged Davis with circumventing the
board's spending restrictions by promoting his
candidacy through Stop the Violence. Under
federal law, tax-exempt organizations are pro-
hibited from engaging in political activity, and
the city campaign law limits a council candi-
date's spending at $274,000.
Davis' expenditure filings failed to list phone
costs, fundraising expenses and payments for
campaign aides, the complaint alleges. "I've been
working on campaigns for 10 years, and I know
how much these things cost," says Meeks, sister to
Congressman Gregory Meeks. "It had to be much
more exorbitant than what he spent." As of late
November, Davis' campaign had reported
slightly less than $100,000 in spending to the
CFB, and another $59,000 he still needed to
detail for the board. Letitia James spent about
$175,000, according to CFB records.
FRONT llNES
We can't have the anarchy of all these people
going off in different directions."
Indeed, Reed insists that centralized power
is the only way the council can be effective.
"We have a constitution to uphold, and if we've
only done X and Y, how do we look? Some-
body has to decide what the priorities are."
The freshmen stand firm, however, and
insist that the councilmembers will be more
productive if their proposals are enacted. And
they're not letting Reed's reservations deter
them, arguing that they have already achieved
a lot of what they set out to do: "A lot of speak-
er candidates are accepting reforms," says Jen-
nings. "We're halfway there."
Davis dismisses Meeks' charges as sour grapes,
and calls them almost "anti-Christian. " "These
allegations are preposterous," he says angrily.
'They come from people who cannot accept the
faCt that I won." Davis insists he was merely fru-
gal. "I tan my campaign from the basement of my
house," he says. (His filings show he paid his land-
lord-his mother, Thelma--$500 a month for
the space.)
To be sure, a host of factors contributed to
Davis' win. The primary's crowded field of candi-
dates likely took votes away from Letitia James,.
and Davis' status as a police officer certainly raised
his profile in the wake of the September 11
attacks. Automated phone calls from Pinkett on
Davis' behalf also didn't hurt.
But Davis' critics insist his real advantage was
Stop the Violence. He was known to peddle the
group's material at candidate debates and to pro-
mote it in his campaign literature. He used the
Stop the Violence web site to promote his can-
didacy. "James E. Davis is supremely confident,
multi-faceted and infintely [sic) courageous,"
reads the site's home page.
Calling Meeks' charges "bull crap," Davis
says Stop the Violence is an above-board opera-
tion. Made up of "four, five, six [members), 1
really don't want the people to know," the group
is a subsidiary of his church, Jesus Christ House
of Prayer, based in Crown Heights. He invited
City Limits to his home to "open the books" of
Jesus Christ House of Prayer, but then refused to
do so. The group is so apolitical, he says, that he
has no plans of stepping down as its director
once he takes office in January.
As for his further political aspirations, Davis
says he has only just begun. He says he plans to
run for Congress against Major Owens in
2002. "1 view myself as a bowling ball," he says.
"My job is to clean up all the trash out of the
gutter of the Democratic political machine."
-James Bradley
9
FRONT llNES
Pushing Fast Jobs
AS THE CLOCK TICKED toward the end of the
Giuliani Administration and pressure built to
help New Yorkers who lost jobs since Septem-
ber ll-an estimated 79,000 in October
alone-the ciry's Human Resources Adminis-
tration kicked into overdrive its long-delayed
plan to start up six new job training centers.
HRA's haste, however, could lead to waste of
federal job training funds as state and federal
workforce development officials warn that the
ciry's new contracts might run afoul of the law.
In early November, the ciry announced the
names of seven nonprofit and for-profit job
training groups awarded contracts totaling $50
million under the federal Workforce Invest-
ment Act (WIA). If approved by the ciry comp-
troller, the contractors would open the centers
in all five boroughs by early 2002.
Given the ciry's economic struggles, the cen-
ters are welcome additions to the ciry's job train-
ing programs; to date, only one such center is in
operation, in Jamaica, Queens. But the way the
ciry runs that center-and HRA's choice of con-
tractors without review from the public or from
the local Workforce Investment Board, charged

A lead on lead
TENANTS IN ONE- AND TWO-FAMILY homes ill
New York Ciry now have a better chance of
holding their landlords accountable when their
children suffer from lead poisoning, thanks to
an October decision by the New York State
Court of Appeals.
In its ruling, the court wrote that lawsuits
may be sent to a jury if the properry owner
knew his building was constructed before
1960, was aware that paint was peeling and
knew his tenants had young children. Until
now, appellate courts outside New York Ciry
would throw out such a case unless a tenant
had given a landlord formal notice that lead
paint existed in his apartment.
"This was a major victory for children
throughout New York State," says Peter
Danziger, attorney for James and Sallie Chap-
man, whose one-year-old son Jaquan was poi-
10
by federal mandate to set policy priorities-has
raised concerns from here to Washingron.
"There appears to be no unified system to
track individuals, services and funds, " Marilyn
Shea, a regional administrator at the U.S.
Department of Labor, testified at a Ciry Coun-
cil hearing on November 19. Shea noted her
agency's concerns about the ciry starting up
new centers without addressing issues in
Jamaica, and warned that funding could be the
ultimate casualry. "We don't want to take the
money away, but if there continues to be a lack
of cooperation then we have to decide to take
further action. "
For any of these new one-stops to be estab-
Absent From Work
lished, the contracts must first pass muster with
the comptroller's office, and the ciry may have to
fight hard for its approval. Two years ago,
Comptroller Alan Hevesi took the ciry to court
for issuing welfure-to-work contracts to Max-
imus, a Virginia-based company with ties to staff
at HRA including Commissioner Jason Turner.
A judge dismissed the case. The ciry again chose
Maximus in this newest group of awards, and
will have to go before Hevesi, or his successor,
for approval.
"It's obviously of concern that they're com-
ing through so late in the administration," says
a source inside the comptroller's office.
-David Jason Fischer
A look at a handful of Workforce Investment Boards from across the country shows that while New York has
the nation's highest number of unemployed people, the Bi g Apple has proportionately few dollars and fewer
staff to put people to work.
Staff Budget Unemployed Residents
Fort Worth, Texas 45 $50 million 41,585 (4.4%)
Broward County, Florida 39 $20 million 38,963 (4.8%)
Hartford, Connecticut 36 $24.5 million 18,260 (3.2%)
Dallas, Texas 39 $60 million 113,316 (5.4%)
Buffalo, New York 8 $42 million 27,470 (5%)
Baltimore, Maryland 2 $5.3 million 62,442 (4.6%)
New York, New York 2 $120 million 238,756 (5.8%)
soned from eating lead paint soon after the
family moved into its Albany apartment in
1994. The Chap mans are suing their land-
lord, Dennis Silber, for about $10 million.
In New York Ciry, where 4,831 children
under age 6 had dangerous levels of lead in
their blood as of January 2001 (the most
recent data available from the ciry), a law on
the books since 1982 requires properry own-
ers to inspect any apartment in a three-or-
more unit pre-1960 building housing a child
under age six.
Last month's ruling for the first time will
also give tenants in one- and rwo-family homes
a chance for their days in court. "This changes
the dynamic quite a lot, " says Matthew
Chachere, an attorney with the New York Ciry
Coalition to End Lead Poisoning.
Even Silber's attorney admits the ruling was
not all bad. While disappointed and con-
cerned that things could get expensive for
properry owners, Derek Hayden says at least
the new guidelines will give his clients a better
idea of what they are responsible for. As things
stood up until now, says Hayden, landlords
"didn't know what they had to do or who they
had to hire. "
Danziger says he hopes the decision makes
it clear to his own clients what they can do. "If
parents don't investigate, children will get noth-
ing," says the Albany-based attorney, who has
1 00 lead cases pending around the state and
has won up to $4 million in damages for some
clients.
Meanwhile, parent advocates in New York
Ciry await another court ruling they hope will
make landlords even more liable for lead poi-
soning in young tenants. An amendment to
the law passed by the Ciry Council in 1999,
called Local Law 38, requires that parents
explicitly warn building owners of the possi-
biliry of lead in their apartments. Chachere
and others say this places too much burden on
the parents.
In the fall of 2000, Judge Louis York of
the state Supreme Court deemed that law
null and void, a decision the ciry is currently
appealing.
-Jill Crossman
CITY LIMITS
...
War of the Activists
THE CURLY-HAIRED WOMAN in the front row rais-
es her hand as the meeting is called to order. "I
see that on this agenda, the controversial
'points of unity' that we fought about last time
has been pushed down to item 6," she says to
the 300 political activists gathered at the Jud-
son Memorial Church on Washington Square
to build a lasting anti-war coalition, or so they
hoped. "I ptopose we move discussing this
point to number 1 on this agenda because it is
number 1 in figuring out where we stand on
these issues. Can I get a second?"
"I second the motion," one man shouts.
"How can you second a motion?" comes
another cry, "A motion hasn't even been made."
''I'm confused," says another.
After an hour of outbursts and calls for
order, for the first time, someone mentions the
word "Afghanistan."
"My name's Eric," he says. ''I'm a ballet
dancer and I normally don't go to those meet-
ings, but isn't the question here, really: How do
we stop this war?"
Commitment is
Facing a conflict that began unlike any in
recent history-with a massive arrack on U.S.
soil-the priorities and goals of the peace move-
ment have been conflicted and tense. After hold-
ing a rally in Union Square Park in early October,
a large coalition of peace activists calling them-
selves New York Not In Our Name convened this
meeting at Judson Church to build momentum.
But as soon as they all got into the room togeth-
er, they remained stumped about what, exactly,
they want from the United States government.
One faction feels that if Osama bin Laden is
captured, he should be tried before an interna-
tional tribunal. No, no, say the more radical of
the radicals like the Black Radical Congress. No
sucill impartial international court exists, they
say, adding that words like "vengeance" and
"vindication" should be kept out of the group's
mission statement since U.S. foreign policy is in
part responsible for the terrorist attacks.
With members discouraged by the lack of
order and consensus, the next meeting drew a far
smaller crowd-50 at best. For over an hour, they
debated the merits of a 90-second versus three-
minute speaking limit. A few people questioned
the integrity of the coalition. Soon afrer, in the
flurry of motions, someone sitting in the back
mentioned the word "action. -Geoffrey Gray
FRONT LINES
CITY LIMITS
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SECOND CHANCE
ENCOUNTER
When teens leave jail, the odds are overwhelming that
they' ll come back. Will a new support system keep them out?
G
rowing up in the Bronxdale projects,
Shane Allen started selling drugs at 15.
With the cash, he could buy designer
clothes, smoke weed and pretend he was not
living a project life on his mother's slim pay-
check. For years, Shane went in and out of
juvenile detention. After he got shot in the
back outside a nightclub, he promised himself
he'd fInish school and get a job-a promise he
soon broke. "In jail, I felt I should change my
By N ORA MCC ARTHY
life, but it was rough looking for a job. It didn't
come as fast as I thought," says Shane, who
fInally quit dealing a year ago.
Shane, now 20, hasn't gotten much support
for his new goals. His girlfriend doesn't believe
he's quit dealing-he's lied to her too many times
before. His old friends coolly shrug "no com-
ment" when he looks for their apptoval, and if
they go shopping, he is the odd one out who can't
afford $400 jackets. "I chill with my friends and
CITY LIMITS
they're talking about setting up shop, robbing
someone. I talk to them about doing good, and
they talk to me about money," Shane says. But
with a baby due in March, money remains an
issue. Shane looks for a job every day, but hasn't
had any luck. For now, all he has to bank on is
his GED program at Friends ofIsland Academy,
a privately run program for young ex-offenders.
The shift from lockdown back to street life
is never easy. For kids running with gangs or
making big money selling drugs, going
straight can mean turning their back on
ftiendships, and losing the money, clothes and
status they once craved. They also have to find
a job and start working hard in school-usu-
ally with little support from family or friends.
At juvenile facilities upstate, they rypically
learn more tricks of the trade, not how to cope
with their lives in New York Ciry.
Ninery percent of kids arrested each year
are classified as delinquents, charged with
nonviolent crimes like shoplifting, stealing,
and dealing drugs. Yet, the vast majoriry find
themselves back behind bars: about 80 per-
JANUARY 2002
cent of boys and 40 percent of girls get locked
up within 36 months.
Last October, the state began a major new
effort to improve the odds for kids returning
home from juvenile facilities. The Community
Re-Entry Program, a collaboration between the
Children's Aid Society, the New York State
Alliance of Boys and Girls Clubs, and the state
Office of Children and Family Services, hopes to
ease kids' transition to life on the outside by pro-
viding every service they need under one roof
By providing a convenient link to recreational
and vocational activities, support programs, and
positive peers, the program hopes to reduce the
likelihood that its clients will go back to jail.
OCFS has long been aware that kids are
released to scattershot supports. These young
people need counseling, GED and high school
classes, job preparation, rehab, recreational
activities and other services, but only a couple
of existing programs offer all that. With more
than 400 city teens returning each year to the
treacherous currents of their home communi-
ties, OCFS caseworkers scramble to patch
together services from several providers, then
try to keep tabs on as many as 26 charges at
once. OCFS, responsible for running the
state's secure juvenile facilities, spends more
than 75 percent of its juvenile justice budget
on incarceration; just 20 percent of its budget
is devoted ro prevention and aftercare.
A report released last year by the Citizens
Committee for Children found that aftercare
workers carry unworkably high caseloads and
are often unable to provide a smooth transition
for their charges. Many caseworkers told the
researchers they do not receive case files in
advance and aren't able to make a case plan until
a month after the teen has been discharged, even
though linking a teen to a school or GED pro-
gram and community-based services is sup-
posed to be seamless. Workers also said they
were rarely able to speak to kids or their families
before they were released from juvenile facilities.
Once caseworkers are able to meet with
their charges and identify their needs, locating
the social services vital to ensuring teen offend-
ers stay out of trouble produces its own set of
obstacles. Drug treatment has proved particu-
larly hard to fmd: Programs are generally
geared to heroin- or cocaine-addicted adults,
while most young people who need treatment
are using marijuana to the point that it keeps
them distracted from school or work or brings
them back into the crowd they got in trouble
with in the first place.
"For young people who have to be sent
upstate, it's really important to improve after-
care. It's been in shambles for a long time," says
Mishi Faruqee, director of the juvenile justice
project at the Correctional Association of New
York. The state, she says, has "finally come to
terms with the fact that the recidivism rate is
staggering. Aftercare obviously hasn't worked
as they've had it. "
R
r kids who choose to participate in the
Communiry Re-Entry Program, the
return home begins with a visit to the
Children's Aid Dunlevy Milbank Center on
West 118th Street. A caseworker shepherds
them through medical and dental exams, men-
tal health screening, applications for Medicaid
or Child Health Plus, and enrollment in a new
Board of Education-run transitional school
specifically for ex-offenders. The school ensures
that kids won't miss learning time while they
search for GED programs or wait to get placed
back in their old schools. "School is the hard-
est thing," says Michael Navas, coordinator of
the program for Children's Aid. "Principals are
reluctant ro take them back. "
The center also provides drug treatment
designed specifically for youth, through a part-
nership with rehab provider Berkshire Farms, as
well as individual or family counseling. Many of
the issues kids face are an extension of pressures
on their parents, so Childen's Aid's caseworkers
contact the family in advance, encouraging par-
ents to join a monthly support group.
At the heart of the program is that time-test-
ed approach to keeping teens out of trouble:
occupying them with activities they enjoy. Each
kid will be assigned to a Boys and Girls Club in
their neighborhood, where they can choose
ftom the clubs' usual array of activities, from
basketball to a seminar series on finding a job.
During a pilot program over the summer, teens
and staff worked together to plant a small com-
munity garden. "Those were some of the most
productive counseling sessions I've ever seen,"
says Felipe Franco, the project coordinator.
"We were working shoulder-to-shoulder on the
ground, planting, and having a barbecue. The
kids really opened up, started talking about
their lives while they drank some Kool-Aid.
Doing something positive gives a lot of value to
their lives."
But the circumstances that landed them in
trouble in the first place seldom disappear dur-
ing their time upstate. 'They come home to
the same conditions, same neighborhood,
same homes, same issues, and for a IS, 16, 17-
year-old kid, that's a lot to have to face," notes
Charlie Rosen, director of the state Boys and
Girls Clubs alliance. "We're giving them an
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alternative to negative and antisocial behavior."
In this case, the alternative is aggressive nor-
malcy. Ex-offenders are ensconced anonymously
in the clubs, giving them the freedom to start
fresh without having to ex:plain-or glorify-
their crimes, time locked up or street affiliations.
(A few, however, hide tracking devices looped to
their ankles.) To ensure that they're not treated
any differently by staff, only caseworkers and the
ptogram's directors will know that they've been
ordered by the law to join the club. Once their
six-month afrercare sentence has ended, Chil-
dren's Aid hopes, the teens will stick with their
clubs and the friends they've made there.
But perhaps the most radical thing about
the Community Re-Entry Program is that it's
making these intensive efforts without expecta-
tions of blockbuster success. Many of the
young people have been raised by aunts or
grandparents, lost parents and other family
members to AIDS, drugs or violence, and have
grown up so poor that their drug dealing is
what put food on the family table-experiences
that even the best conceived program would be
hard-pressed to undo. "Maybe we'll fail with a
whole lot of them, " says Rosen. "We'll be emi-
nently successful if we save even 5 percent. "
T
hese days, state and local officials are
bent on increasing punishment for kids.
Earlier this year, Governor Pataki pro-
posed trying teens as young as 13 as adults.
Meanwhile, Mayor Giuliani pushed through
$60 million to expand the number of beds in
the city's juvenile detention facilities, where
accused young people await trial-reflecting the
fact that an unprecedented proportion are now
held in detention instead of living at home.
In the middle of it all, OCFS and the state
legislature made an institutional commitment
to improve services kids receive in their com-
munities. In part, the change came in response
to a report by the Citizens Comminee for Chil-
dren, which documented afrercare's deficiencies
with the help of OCFS officials, who provided
information and access to its caseworkers. (The
state agency did not, however, return repeated
calls from City Limits.) Citizens Committee
used the finding to lobby the state assembly to
add $1 million for afrercare, which it did.
Finally, OCFS asked the Alliance of Boys and
Girls Clubs to submit a proposal to provide
afrercare for up to 400 kids.
"OCFS is staffed by many people who
worked in the provider community for a long
time," remarks Gabrielle Kreisler, who worked
on the Citizens Committee campaign. "While
there's been a nationwide shift to stiffer penal-
CITY LIMITS
ties, and politicians may be calling for that,
people in the agency realize the cost benefits to
alternatives to incarceration and to aftercare."
The state's appreciation for intensive aftercare
started with an experiment in tough incarcera-
tion: The Youth Leadership Academy boot camp
upstate. Since 1984, OCFS has funded City
Challenge, a Children's Aid Society program in
Bedford-Stuyvesant that provides round-the-
dock support for about 120 teens a year coming
back from the boot camp. Coming out of an
intensely rigid environment, the kids have a
structured program to ease their return home.
For six years, Children's Aid has provided ser-
vices to kids at City Challenge, who get school,
job training, activities and counseling full-time at
the center. (City Challenge says the state does not
track its recidivism rates.) At the heart of City
Challenge is a complex psychological language,
centered on self-worth and self-esteem, to help
young people understand and cope with the
emotions that led them to seek approval from
gangs or to earn respect on the streets.
Michael Navas ran the parent support group
at City Challenge and, six months ago, started a
grief and mourning group for teens. Navas
expected that kids would front, pretending to be
above their feelings, but was surprised by the ses-
sion's intensity. "The kids walk in and it's unbe-
lievable. They have a lot to talk about, and they
talk," he says. "That continues my amazement."
Private programs like Friends of Island Acade-
my have a different strategy. For young men like
Shane, struggling to reinvent their identity, it's the
other young people and the staff of ex-offenders
at places like Friends ofIsland that show a positive
model of manhood. Shane's father became
addicted to crack and stopped coming around. In
the Bronxdale projects, the guys he looked up to
dealt drugs, and that's the best he thought he
could do. "When I was 12 or 13, my brother's
friends used to come by, and they were stickup
kids and drug dealers. They used to hold down
the block, and I looked up to them," he says.
Now, Shane is trying to prove himself to a
different set of mentors-his fami ly and teach-
ers. His teachers tell him he's a leader, and his
mother urges him to keep trying.
That's a big change. When he was dealing
drugs, she would not speak to him. At times he
bought food for the household, but she
dumped it in the garbage, saying, "I don't need
that kind of money." When he got locked up,
his mom spent the money she'd been saving for
his college education.
Now they are able to talk with each other and
laugh. But often, Shane tells her, "It's getting
hard." And all she can say is, "Stay focused."
JANUARY 2002
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16 CITY LIMITS
..
"1 don't expect to be justified by
the laws of man" -Bob Marley
W
ith the West Indian Day
Parade just hours away, steel
pan drummers filled Labor
Day morning with pulsating
rhythms. As floats carried
revelers along F1atbush Avenue for the pre-
dawn Caribbean celebration of ],Ouvert, a spe-
cial homecoming took place.
Waving the flag of his native Trinidad, 39-
year-old Colin Warner rode on a float of his
own, family and friends by his side. Band
members swayed to the music, wearing T-
shirts that declared "VICTORY FOR OUR
HERO COLIN WARNER."
Warner, an electrician's apprentice who
lives in East Flatbush, has lived through the
impossible, twice over. He went ro jail for 21
years for a murder he did not commit, and
successfully mounted his own case-with the
help of a devoted childhood friend, Carl
King-to convince a judge to set him free.
For Warner, with King by his side, there
were autographs to sign, hugs, tears and well-
wishes to share. One NYPD officer asked to
shake hands with him. "It still throws me that
people would feel this way," Warner says mod-
estly. "It's not for me personally. People have
family and friends caught up in the system, and
I'm just out here representing how they feel."
These days, Warner revels in the simple plea-
sures he never knew if he'd ever experience
again-a cool breeze, a cell phone, time with his
wife and her 13-year-old daughter. "A lot of guys
who come out of prison don't have a family
mucture, so this is a blessing in itself," he says.
Suddenly, Warner has returned to a city he
had never truly adjusted to in the first place.
"Slowly, I'm getting there, but I think it's
harder than I thought it would be, " he admits.
Entering a bus in Brooklyn recently, Warner
incorrecdy swiped his Metrocard. "I jammed
it and my wife was laughing because everyone
else got on the bus for free."
Warner takes these things in stride, bur the
gut-wrenching rruth of stolen years is never far
from his mind. "I am relieved that this night-
mare is over, but it is not really over because I
will have to live with this for the rest of my
life," he says.
JANUARY 2002
Last April, Warner and his lawyer, William
Robedee, filed a $92 million claim under the
Unjust Conviction and Imprisonment Act,
which provides for compensation for people
who have been wrongfully convicted in New
York State courts. They have also filed a notice
of claims against the NYPD and the Brooklyn
District Attorney's office, for a civil rights suit
charging that the NYPD deliberately misled
child wimesses during interrogations and that
the D.A.'s office maliciously prosecured Warner
by ignoring evidence pointing to his innocence.
The state Attorney General and Brooklyn DA
both declined to comment on the pending cases.
A Hollywood studio would reject the story
behind Warner's conviction and his eventual
release as "over the top. " But his story is not
unique, and it's a product of some inescapable
realities of New York's criminal defense system.
Court-assigned lawyers for the indigent don't
have the resources to conduct their own inves-
tigations; they're paid so little, in fact, that they
can barely stay in business, just $25 an hour for
out-of-court work. In preparation for trials,
defense attorneys have extremely limited access
to evidence such as police reports and grand
jury minures-a constraint that also makes it
difficult to get a conviction overturned.
"What lawyers need is time: to interview
clients, investigate cases, think about them. Bur
fees are so incredibly low that work goes
undone," says Jonathan Gradess, executive
director of the New York Defense Association.
"That right to counsel, supposedly the crown
jewel in the Bill of Rights, is not really counsel at
all. If you don't have the tools of forensic evi-
dence, you can appeal the case, but you don't
have the evidence to get a conviction over-
turned." Gradess' organization, which provides
support and information to defense lawyers, is
ill-equipped to pick up the slack: As a result of
this year's state budget cuts, the group has laid
off seven staff and closed its intake of new cases.
Court-appointed attorneys agree that they
are not equipped to carry our investigations.
"Which investigator wants to work for a [court-
appointed] attorney? asks Elsie Chandler, a
criminal defense lawyer who works with poor
clients. "They're not going to work on a case for
those who can't afford to take on those cases."
Once a verdict is handed down, New York con-
victs do not have a right to an attorney to get a
judgment vacated, no matter how badly a case
may have been mishandled.
With a defense so readily hobbled, a prose-
cution can write most of the script in court.
And that's what happened in the case of The
People of the State of New York v. Collins HiL!.zry
~ r n e r . Sitting in the courtroom during his
trial, barely old enough to vote, Warner had to
watch helplessly as false testimony from a 16-
year-old instantly decided his fate. Judge Albert
E. Murray's statement before the sentencing
reveals the level of doubt swirling around
Warner's involvement: "The system that we
have, we put in process. Is it perfect? Is pus ver-
dict true? I don't pretend to know. I don't have
the capacity to know. I'm not superhuman."
"You hear people say how your life flashes
before your eyes? Well that literally happened to
me," says Warner. "I was so niive because I
believed that no matter what was being said, I
could not be convicted. It was like a snowball
effect where it started rolling down the hill and
nobody was trying to stop it."
T
he year was 1980. Brooklyn's
streets were surging with new ener-
gy. The borough took on a distinct
Caribbean flavor as immigrants
poured in from Trinidad and
Tobago, Jamaica, Haiti, and Guyana. The
1980 U.S. Census reported that the areas of
Crown Heights and East Flatbush boasted
Caribbean populations of well over 20,000.
Warner, then 18, had arrived to New York
from Trinidad just two years earlier, joining his
mother in Crown Heights. Warner, like others
in the Caribbean, was dazzled by tales of how
the Big Apple's meets were said to glisten with
opportunity and adventure. "Brooklyn was a
candy store to me, because Trinidad is a small
place," he recalls. "We were always on the streets,
not robbing or stealing, but just enjoying life. "
Young men from the islands, though, were in
for a rude awakening as they received the cold
shoulder from some of their black American
counterparts. As Rastafarians, Warner and his
friends were isolated into their own clique. Run-
ins with the police happened often for Rastafar-
ians; their flowing locks and green army jackets
stereorypically branded them as a bizarre cult or
a menacing band of gun-toting drug dealers.
Warner and his ftiends learned the streets
could be fertile ground for rrouble when they
found a .38 caliber pistol whose trigger was
17
apparently missing. During a stop-and-frisk in
1979, Warner was arrested and charged with gun
possession, receiving three years' probation-and
a mug shot in the police flies.
A year later, Warner had just completed a
mechanics' training course. He was moving in a
new direction. "He was a pretty cool and loving
guy," recalls King. "We were rebellious and we
didn't feel we needed a college education, but he
was real educated and liked to write poetry."
But on April 10, 1980, his life came to a
crashing halt, starting with an
showing me. "
According to police transcripts, Thomas
Charlemagne told detectives it was a drive-by
shooting. The passenger in the front seat, he
said, jumped out of the car, shot Mario Hamil-
ton, and pointed the gun at him before re-enter-
ing a speeding Buick. He identified Simmonds
as the driver of the car. During his interrogation,
Charlemagne confirms, when asked by an offi-
cer, that he picked out Warner's photo and iden-
tified him as the shooter.
incident he knew nothing about.
That afternoon, as classes ended
at F1atbush's Erasmus Hall High
School, Mario Hamilton, a 16-
year-old Jamaican immigrant,
stood a block away on Lott Street
between Erasmus Street and Sny-
der Avenue. A 15-year-old school
CHARLES KING REALIZED THAT
HIS FRIEND'S INNOCENCE
WOULD PROVEN NOT IN A
COURTROOM, BUT THROUGH
INVESTIGATION IN THE STREETS.
friend, Norman Simmonds,
walked up to Hamilton and fired
a single bullet into the back of his
neck. Two other friends of Sim-
monds' witnessed the murder.
Mario's younger brother,
Martell, found out about the
shooting a couple of minutes
later, when a friend of his broth-
er's, 14-year-old Thomas Charle-
magne, ran to find Martell sever-
al blocks away. "We ran back to
the scene and I was hoping I was
mistaken," Martell recalls. "As
soon as I got to the corner ofLott
Street and Snyder Avenue, 1
knew it was no mistake because 1
recognized my brother's pants
and the shoes he was wearing as
he lay in the street. What will
always stay in my mind is the
amount of blood I saw."
While consoling Martell,
Charlemagne told him that he
had wi messed the shooting. As
Mario was rushed to Kings
County Hospital, officers from the 67th
Precinct drove Charlemagne and 15-year-old
Martell to the station house and took state-
ments for nearly six hours. Paralyzed with grief,
Martell sat outside of the room where Charle-
magne was interrogated. "They kept showing
Thomas different photographs. They were
shooting really hard questions at him and 1
basically heard Thomas quivering," says
Hamilton. "They showed me photos as well,
but I didn't know any of the faces they were
18
Hamilton contends that he and Charle-
magne were interviewed alone; his grieving par-
ents weren't notified their son was being inter-
rogated, and as far as he knew, Charlemagne's
weren't, either. According to criminal lawyers,
the police were following standard procedure.
The next morning, detectives went to the
Hamilton home for a follow-up interview. "I
had been crying all morning. My sister took me
to the kitchen where they were. [The detectives]
then told her, even though she was an adult at
the time, to leave the room," says Hamilton.
According to Hamilton, a detective placed
five photos on the kitchen table. "They kept ask-
ing me if I recognized any of them, and I told
them no, " he recalls. He also told detectives that
two days before the shooting, Norman Sim-
monds had threatened to kill his brother Mario.
Hamilton now says he felt intimidated by the
lead detective, whom he describes as a "vety big
and burly guy." The atmosphere made it unlike-
ly for a young teen to make a rational decision,
which could explain what hap-
pened next. One detective "point-
ed at Colin Warner's photo and
pushed it out of the pile so it stuck
out," says Hamilton. "Just so he
could stop harassing me, I said I
might have seen him before."
T
he day of Mario
Hamilton's murder
found Colin Warner
driving around
Crown Heights with
a friend in search of a variety store.
He had no clue that he was in the
final hours of life as a free man.
Warner didn't even know any
of the young men involved in the
case. He told police of his where-
abouts on the day in question.
None of it was enough; he was
arrested, charged with murder in
the second degree and held with-
out bail.
Six months later, police arrested
Norman Simmonds in front of
Erasmus Hall as an accomplice,
and likewise held him without
bail. Simmonds, speaking out for
the first time, tells City Limits that
he was shown pictures from a mug
book and asked to identify his col-
laborator. "As a matter of fact, one
of them was of Colin, but I told
them that I didn't know anybody."
Simmonds, too, maintains that he was interro-
gated without a parent or lawyer present.
Simmonds had arrived from Jamaica in July
1977, on the day of the city's infamous black-
out. At Erasmus, he developed a friendship
with Mario Hamilton, but things soured
between them when Simmonds accused
Hamilton of fatally shooting a mutual friend.
Simmonds was pumped with thoughts of
revenge when he flred the fatal shot. (Sim-
monds now concedes that Mario didn't shoot
CITY LIMITS
..

their friend, bur implies there were other
motives behind the murder: "Hamilton's ene-
mies were my friends. ")
As the case moved to the grand jury, the
prosecution built its case around Charle-
magne's account. Warner and Simmonds were
indicted on charges of second-degree murder
and criminal possession of a weapon.
Then Charlemagne suddenly disap-
peared-for two long years. As they awaited
the start of the trial, Simmonds and Warner
would meet, for the first time, on Rikers
Island. "I was a skinny little kid, and I was a
little afraid because this man was in jail for my
crime," Simmonds reflects. "Colin didn't seem
like the type to hate anybody, bur if he wanted
to do something to me, I could understand. "
But realistically, all Warner could do was hope
that a jury would sort everything out. "I have
come to terms with [Simmonds]," says Warner.
When Thomas Charlemagne finally resur-
faced, the prosecutors had a new challenge:
Their star wimess was accused of holding up a
Brooklyn restaurant in an armed robbery. Warn-
er's attorney, Robedee, suspects that Charle-
magne decided ro continue cooperating because
testifYing in the murder case provided him with
the promise of a lenient plea in his own case.
This time around, Charlemagne's testimony
differed drastically from his own previous
accounts. The grand jury, the district attorney,
detectives, and now the jury all heard different
stories, which changed considerably each time
they were told. At the uial, Charlemagne
reversed his account and identified Warner as
the driver of the car used in the murder. Nor-
man Simmonds, he now said, was the front-
seat passenger who shot Mario Hamilton. "I
never knew [Charlemagne] existed," says Sim-
monds now. "I knew that everything that guy
said our of his mouth was a lie because the real
wimesses never took the stand."
Bruce Regenstreich, who represented Warn-
er in the first trial, says he firmly believed in his
client's innocence and was convinced that the
evidence against him was too weak for the case
to proceed. "I filed a motion to have the case
dismissed because [Charlemagne] admitted on
the wimess stand that he lied to the grand
jury." The motion, however, was denied. The
trial transcripts suggest that the judge may have
been swayed by the prosecution's technical
argument that only a jury could decide on the
credibility of wi messes.
So why did Charlemagne lie? The answer
still remains a mystery. Years later, when Warn-
er's legal team attempted to contact Charle-
JANUARY 2002
magne, they learned he was deported to Haiti
and most likely killed in 1994, during coup-
related violence.
"He didn't realize what he was putting him-
self into. You can't tell a little fisherman's story
and figure there are no repercussions behind
it," says Hamilton, who was a material wi mess
in the trials. Hamilton did have strong doubts
about Warner's involvement, but says he began
to second-guess himselE Through the course
of the trial, as the prosecution made its case, he
became convinced that it was possible for Sim-
monds to have known Warner and recruited
him to kill his brother.
Unable to decide on a verdict in either of
AT THE TRIAL,
THERE WAS NO
TESTIMONY TO
SUPPORT

THOMAS
CHARLEMAGNE'S
VERSION OF EVENTS.
THE JURY AND
JUDGE FOUND HIS
TESTIMONY CREDIBLE.
IT WAS ALL A LIE.
the charges Simmonds faced, the trial ended
with a hung jury. Warner was acquitted of
weapons possession charges, but he still faced
the murder charge.
Warner believes his attorney fought hard,
but admits his defense was damaged when his
friends did not testifY. They were with Warner
that day, and could have provided crucial tes-
timony proving he was nowhere near Erasmus
Hall when Mario Hamilton was killed. "The
evidence was so shaky, my lawyer decided not
to call them," Warner recalls. Regenstreich
says he does not recall why Warner's friends
were not called to testifY: "I wouldn't make
that decision."
Simmonds was presented with a deal to take
a two- to six-year sentence, which also offered
the chance to have charges dropped against
Warner. Simmonds, however, refused, believing
he could beat the charges. "No one asked me if
I did this crime," Simmonds says. "I knew I did
this crime, but they were going to have to prove
that I did it. I didn't have the ability to think
that if something went wrong, [Warner] would
have to spend the rest of his life in jail."
In the end, Warner and Simmonds were con-
victed of second-degree murder. Simmonds,
because of his age, was later sentenced to nine
years in juvenile prison. In June 1982, Warner
received a 15-to-life sentence. At the trial, there
was no testimony to support Charlemagne's ver-
sion of events. The jury and Judge Murray
found his testimony credible. It was all a lie.
W
arner spent about a month
at the Elmira Correctional
Facility, an upstate deten-
tion center for juveniles,
before he was transferred to
Coxsackie, an adult prison in Greene County.
Each day, he fought against becoming
immersed in the new culture. "It's humiliating.
You have to lower yourself in certain situations
in order to survive," Warner reflects. "If you
claim you're [tough], and act like that, you can-
not in prison. [Other inmates] will try to break
you physically and mentally."
Warner admits to "losing himself" during
his first several years behind bars. A few scrapes
with other inmates landed him in solitary con-
finement and led to his being transferred to
other prisons. Warner recalls a complicated
relationship with correctional officers. "Every-
one isn't bad, but you're part of a system which
has me in prison, even though you didn't
directly partake in my conviction," he says.
Trying to identifY with the ourside world
from inside prison's walls proved difficult.
"What [prisoners] believe in, what they do,
how they talk-their whole lives is prison. And
that's what I was fighting against. Yes, I'm in
prison, but I'm not a parr of it. " This realiza-
tion gave Warner new ways of handling minor
incidents full of explosive potential. "It can get
really petty. In the TV viewing area, some peo-
ple were claiming tiles, " Warner says, laughing
at the absurdity. "They need something to con-
trol because their lives are being controlled."
The shadow of wrongful imprisonment
haunted Warner daily. "It got to the point
where I felt like I was born in prison. Prison
became more real than the life I had, so every-
19
thing that I did, every book that I read was
geared toward my freedom," he says. He went
on to earn a degree in business management.
As Warner battled for a new hearing, King
reintroduced him to a mutual friend, Catherine
Charles. She became an important ally, and
later, his wife. "We started writing as pen pals
and built a relationship," Warner says. "She's a
strong black woman to stand by my side with a
life sentence. I told her it was not guaranteed
that I would be out, but her faith was so strong. "
Warner made his first direct appeal with the
belief that freedom was at hand. After all, he
reasoned, his innocence was so obvious. But
losing the appeal dashed the slim faith he had
in the criminal justice system. "It felt like I was
going through the whole thing allover again,
because I had a lot of hope about the appeal,"
he says. "I lost my trial and I kept hoping that
people would realize the mistake they made. "
By 1995, Warner was up for parole, but he
had little chance of getting it. One strike against
him was his scrapes in prison, but the parole
board also took serious heed of his refusal to
admit to the murder. Warner had two subse-
quent parole hearings, and was struck down
both times, for a total of four more years behind
bars. "In their eyes, I was a convicted murderer
who was not accepting responsibility for the
crime, " says Warner. "They only look at the
crime and not what the person has accom-
plished in the years since. They have that as a
guideline, but they don't follow it."
Slowly, painfully, it became clear that justice
was not going to be an available commodity.
"If! never stayed on top of this case," contends
Warner, "it would have been no problem for
the state to just let me die in there. "
C
arl King wasn't going to let that
happen. He and Warner were
acquainted in elementary school
in Trinidad, but it was in Brook-
lyn that they bonded as street-
corner pals-a relationship that only deep-
ened with Warner's troubles.
At the beginning of the ordeal, King started
out no more aware than his friend that the
public defense apparatus had little to offer his
friend. "When he was arrested, I was 17 and I
didn't really have too much knowledge about
the law," remembers King. "I figured the law is
above me and that I really had to study it in
order to know it. "
Through much of the 1980s, Warner and a
series of court-appointed attorneys tried numer-
ous direct appeals. In retrospect, Warner and
20
King agree, the case was mistakenly fought by
revisiting technical violations the prosecution
had committed at the trial. While there was
plenty of evidence that Warner did not receive a
fair trial, the new efforts did not aim or suffice
to prove him innocent. "We were focusing on
how the judge instructed the jury, and the dou-
ble jeopardy [clause] because Colin was charged
as the shooter in the first trial and they dropped
the gun charge, but he was still charged with
murder in the second trial," King says.
From his cell at Clinton Correctional Facili-
ty, Warner did what he could, sending letters to
60 Minutes, Dateline and other news outlets, as
well as legal groups advocating for the wrongly
SAYS WARNER'S FRIEND
CHARLES KING:
"WE WEREN'T
GETTING TOO MANY
ANSWERS.
NOONE
ACTUALLY SAID,
LET'S GO BACK
AND FIND OUT
WHAT HAPPENED
FROM DAY ONE
ON APRIL 10, 1980."
accused. "I wrote to every organization that
supposedly helps people who are convicted
falsely," Warner says. But proving innocence
often takes a time-consuming investigation, and
the resources to challenge a conviction are scant,
says Ron Tabak, a New York lawyer instrumen-
tal in drafting the American Bar Association's
1997 resolution calling for a nationwide mora-
torium on capital punishment. "Usually when I
get a letter from a prisoner, I have to turn them
down either because there are not many people
with the proper qualifications to handle it or
due to a lack of time," he says.
Defendants without access to financial
resources are left to launch their own investiga-
tion, starting with the paper trail from the orig-
inal trial and moving into a full-blown private
hunt for new evidence. "It's not easy to rein-
vestigate a 20-year-old murder without any
resources, " says William Robedee. "It requires
someone to say, 'I'm going to do this whether
or not I make any money,' and it's the [finan-
cial] reality that keeps a lot of people from get-
ting involved in something like this."
There were other shortcomings in the
defense. Despite their intimate knowledge of
Colin Warner's case, King says he and Warner's
family were never included in legal strategizing.
"Whenever we would ask the lawyers any ques-
tions, they were acting as if we were not sup-
posed to ask them. So, I realized we had to do
this thing on our own, partly because we knew
this case better than any other attorney. " King
started paying for attorneys, private investiga-
tors and copies of court transcripts, spending at
least $40,000 out of his own pocket. When he
learned that a family member was working as a
summons server, he became one too--and
gained direct access to the courts. Intrigued by
the investigation process, he reasoned that
Warner's freedom would be proven not in a
courtroom, but in the streets. "To overturn [the
conviction] an attorney had to bring in a movie
camera to reenact that scene. It's too much for
an attorney who isn't going to go out in the
street, especially a crime that happens in a black
or Hispanic neighborhood. It takes an investi-
gator who can fit in with the people," says King.
The intense work wasn't without its toll. In
the middle of it, King split with the mother of
his two daughters, leaving him a single parent.
"A lot of people in my family couldn't under-
stand how committed I was to this," admits
King. "I scill owe MCI and Sprint for long-dis-
tance calls related to the case, and there were
times when funds were exhausted." King says he
stayed motivated by recalling the story of boxer
Rubin "Hurricane" Carter, who was wrongfully
convicted for a 1967 murder.
Warner's lawyers put forth little effort, says
King. "We weren't getting too many answers. No
one actually said, let's go back and find out what
happened from day one on April 10, 1980."
O
ne afternoon two years ago, King
distributed business cards out-
side the courthouses in down-
town Brooklyn. He was looking
not only for a job assisting attor-
neys, but for a lawyer prepared to fight Warn-
er's case like no one had before.
William Robedee was a man in transition
CITY LIMITS
when he received King's card. After working for
the Brooklyn DA's office, Robedee was setting
up his own law practice with his wife, Shirley,
out of their Bay Ridge aparonent. Robedee
called King seeking office help. Once he was
hired, King wasted no time directing the anor-
ney's anention to the Warner case.
Given the case's many twists over two
decades, Robedee had some reservations, but
he finally decided to take a look. "I told [King]
to bring the files over," recalls
Robedee. "He came over with a
box with about 2,000 pages
stuffed inside-trial transcripts,
paperwork, and all the stuff
Colin saved for years. I was just
so impressed that Carl was so
devoted to him. " It wasn't long
before Robedee realized just how
badly the case had been handled.
"The statements from the eye-
witnesses were coerced by the
police and the DA.'s office," he
contends. "They got the indict-
ments against Colin, but at the
same time they're looking for
Norman Simmonds, which is a
lime strange. No one is asking
what Colin's motive was. Why
would he have done this?"
After two decades of appeals,
Warner had seemingly exhausted
all the resources available to him.
Lawyer William Kunstler had
even taken the case, filing a
motion arguing that the evidence
used against Warner at the trial
was so weak that it violated his
constitutional right to due
process. "It was an interesting
argument. . Maybe someone
would have bought it in the '70s,
but they weren't buying it now,"
Robedee says. "This is a real law-
and-order kind of ciry now. We
have a lot of fantastic judges, but
no one wants to be on the front page of the New
York Post saying that a convicted murderer was let
out on a technicaliry."
It's exactly this climate, legal advocates for the
accused agree, that punishes innocent inmates
for their wrongful convictions. "Once you're
convicted, there is no longer a presumption of
innocence. There is a presumption of guilt and
it's very overwhelming," says Ron Warden,
whose Chicago-based Center for Wrongful
Conviction receives about 75 cases each year.
JANUARY 2002
Warden's organization has won the release of
several innocent inmates. For each case it takes
on, a journalism student obtains the trial tran-
script and probes into basic facts. "We look for
things that can establish the innocence of this
person," Warden explains. "Is there a witness no
one knew about at the time? Is there physical
evidence that can shed light on the case?"
In Warner's case, the biggest piece of evidence
was Norman Simmonds. In 1991, in support of
a motion to overturn Warner's conviction, Sim-
monds had agreed to fue an affidavit for Warn-
er, stating that he was solely responsible for
Mario Hamilton's death. The court, however,
struck the motion down. "The system wasn't
going to listen to what I had to say because I was
convicted," says Simmonds. "It didn't maner
how many leners you write."
Seven years later, King tracked him down,
and Robedee sent a lener pleading for Sim-
monds' help once again. Recalls Simmonds, "I
went home and got a lener telling me Colin was
still in jail. As soon as I finished reading it, I
started to cry. " Simmonds says he immediately
drove from Long Island to Robedee's office. In a
lengthy interview with Robedee and King, Sim-
monds gave his motive for killing Hamilton.
And for the first time, he also revealed the names
of other witnesses to the shooting.
King hit the streets in pursuit. Using 20-
year-old addresses and phone numbers, King
tracked down the witnesses and
encouraged them to come for-
ward. Memories of the murder,
seared deep into the conscious-
ness of Simmonds' friends, moti-
vated them to eventually agree to
help. "It was the most traumatic
events of their lives. We forget the
fact they're children who saw
someone get his brains blown out
right in front of them, and from
that moment they all changed
permanently," says Robedee.
The team still needed one
more thing: the support of the
Hamilron family. "We wanted
them ro believe in this," says
Robedee. "No judge, [despite]
how compelling the evidence is,
will let a convicted murderer out if
this victim's mother is screaming
'How dare you let that pig out? He
killed my son!'"
Martell Hamilton was wary
when he learned of efforts to revoke
Warner's sentence. "It brought back
a lot of painful memories," he says.
"But when I saw all of the evidence,
it blew my mind. " For him, analy-
sis of the autopsy report revealing it
was impossible for his brother to
have been killed in a drive-by shoot-
ing was especially convincing. That
evidence had never been brought
up at the original trial.
I
t took 21 years to prove Warner's inno-
cence and just a week to overturn his con-
viction. Among the evidence Robodee
brought before the court last January was
a complete record of the police investiga-
tion, analysis of the autopsy, and the deposi-
tions of Simmonds and his friends who wit-
nessed the murder. The Brooklyn D.A.'s office
then conducted its own investigation by sub-
jecting the eyewitnesses to polygraph tests. It
Continued on page 33
21
CROSSING
THE LINE
Police do everything it takes to protect
booming brownstone Fort Greene-from the
projects on the other side of "Murder Avenue."
Is neighborhood profiling here to stay?
"we used to be able to just chill in
front of our door, " says Jer-
maine, 22, who lives in Fort
Greene's Ingersoll Houses. He can't anymore.
The neighborhood's too safe. "I had a cop
come up," recalls Jermaine. "He told me I can-
not sit in front of my building. He said if I'm
there when he comes back in five minutes he's
gonna arrest me."
Jermaine spent his teenage years in and out of
juvenile institutions and jail for robbery and
assault before moving back in with his mother
four years ago. In the years since, Jermaine, tal!
with a scraggly beard, a blue headband and a sil-
ver earring in his left ear, has been given tickets
for spitting on the sidewalk. He has received
more tickets--most of which he says courts sub-
sequently dismissed-for owning dogs without
a license. He has also been picked up by the
police and held for questioning about his
friends' involvement in crimes.
AI; far as the cops are concerned, Jermaine
deserves the extra attention. Last year, he was
arrested for petry larceny-he says, vaguely,
that he was running a small internet scarn-
and put on three years' probation. Since then,
he says the police have arrested him four times,
all on charges relating to his dogs.
In recent years, Fort Greene has become
known for its swift gentrification-for increas-
ingly pticey historic brownstones and a blos-
soming of new cafes and bars. Close to half of
all small residential buildings have changed
owners in the past six years. None of those are
rent-regulated; the newcomers are paying mar-
ket rents and mortgages. All of that was made
possible by a tremendous drop in crime-over
60 percent since the early 1990s.
22
By SASHA ABRAMSKY
Jermaine and about 15,000 others living in
public housing on the north side of Fort Greene
have shared in the benefits of reduced crime.
But for them, it has come at a stiff price. Crime
may be down, but arrests and confrontations
with police have become a part of daily life.
"The cops, they harass you," says one local
21-year-old African American man, who asked
not to be named, working as a counselor at a
summer jobs program near the projects. His
hip-hop image-gold chains and rings, gold
teeth-coverings, long hair and bandanna-puts
him fumly into the police profile of a likely
criminal. "You can't even walk outside peaceful-
ly without having to pull your I.D. out. I look
like an average boy in the hood."
Although he claims he's never been convicted
of any crime, is on his way to college and has
never gotten into real trouble, he says that he has
been arrested 14 times in the past three years.
"They run up on you. Frisk you for no reason,"
he says angrily, as coworkers nod in agreement.
"I ain't got no record. Fourteen times for bull-
shit. Dismissed. Dismissed. Dismissed. Wasting
taxpayers' dollars putting us through the system.
You want to run, just to avoid the contact."
It's not just the police. At the instigation of
the NYPD, parole officers have become some-
times-reluctant players in aggressive crime pre-
vention efforts in the Fort Greene projects-
part of a push to target people on parole.
"Maybe half my friends are on parole or proba-
tion," says Jermaine. "One of my friends got
violated. He had two years of probation left. He
got locked up for riding a bike on the sidewalk.
He had no I.D. on him. " Police have found
other friends of his in violation of their parole
"for trespassing. Being caught in a sweep. Being
somewhere you're not supposed to be. A lot get
locked up for weed, for drinking outside. "
Inevitably, people here in the projects blame
it on the newcomers on the other side of Myr-
tle Avenue, who have met extensively with the
police to demand a safe neighborhood. Both
the public housing and the brownstones are
part of the 88th Precinct. Darnel Canada, 42,
a one-time prisoner who served seven years for
assault, now heads the Fort Greene Empower-
ment Organization, a group that seeks employ-
ment for residents in the projects. "Ten years
ago, " says Canada, "you'd hear shots for a while
and no police. Now, anything you call the
police for now, there's an over-response. Since
property values went up there's a difference.
The police response is, 'You're messing up our
block and we're not having it.' A lot of people
in the development feel it's a property issue.
Now the police run in here like crazy."
T
he September 11 attack dramatically
altered police priorities. For a while, it
also muted what had been a torrent of
criticism of NYPD practices. The attack and its
aftermath highlighted just how vital the police
CITY LIMITS
are to the ciry's survival, and how brave officers
can be in times of danger.
The NYPD did not return numerous phone
calls and interview requests relating to this arti-
cle. But clearly, policing a tract of public hous-
ing is a task as complex as any the police take on.
"Many residents have social issues that need to
be addressed-employment, poor health care,
poor diet, domestic violence, teenage pregnancy,
lack of maintenance to buildings they live in,"
notes Eric Adams, a lieutenant at Fort Greene's
88th Precinct and co-founder of the group One
Hundred Blacks In Law Enforcement, a long-
time critic of Giuliani administration police
leadership. He believes that many residents
"look at police officials as representative of the
authoriry figure preventing some of these other
issues being addressed."
Police are supposed to monitor local activi-
ties, such as the actions of convicted larcenist
Jermaine, but also convince neighborhood resi-
dents that the cops are there for their protection.
They must balance legitimate crime prevention
strategies with equally valid local concerns about
excessive, and selective, police interventions.
As a new mayor and an old police chief take
JANUARY 2002
office, basic concerns over police unfairly target-
ing different groups and neighborhoods have
hardly gone away. During his campaign, Mayor
Michael Bloomberg claimed that racial profiling
didn't even exist. Not surprisingly, his recently
stated commitment to end such practices hasn't
convinced reformers that he's serious. "Problems
like racial profiling do not disappear just
because a great tragedy has hit the ciry," says
Adams. "The officer who profiles pre-9fll did-
n't suddenly turn over a new leaf"
The police once had every reason to identify
Fort Greene as an area where crime demanded
an overwhelming response. During the Reagan
years, the city's infrastructure came apart at the
seams: The crack wars started, and the tree-lined
streets, whose historic brownstones had already
started to attract gentrifiers, became some of the
most violent in the ciry. In 1987, the 88th
Precinct saw 26 murders, 49 rapes, over 1,500
robberies, nearly 650 felonious assaults, 1,350
burglaries, close to a thousand auto thefts or
break-ins, and a multitude of other crimes. That
year, 5,583 felonies were reported within the
neighborhood. Locals started calling Myrtle
Avenue, the dividing line berween the projeCts
and the brownstones, "Murder Avenue."
"Drugs started flowing heavy in this commu-
niry in 1987," remembers Darnel Canada. "Real
deep. The next thing you knew the crime statis-
tics flew crazy high. The 16, 17 year-olds grab a
gun and they develop a feeling of invincibiliry.
And then you have a whole bunch of bystanders
being shot." By the end of the 1980s, 88th
Precinct and Housing Authoriry police were
making over 1,700 felony arrests a year.
The brownstone-dwellers were hardly
immune from violent crime. "My husband was
mugged in the park once," recalls one longtime
homeowner. "A bunch of kids jumped us. We
were jogging on a Sunday afternoon. His front
teeth were knocked out with brass knuckles. "
Though it existed barely a decade ago, that
crime-ridden neighborhood would be almost
unrecognizable to people moving to Fort
Greene today. Through mid-October 2001,
COMPSTAT figures indicate only seven mur-
ders in the 88th Precinct, 15 rapes, 359 rob-
beries, 177 felonious assaults and 192 burglar-
ies, with a total of 399 arrests in the seven
major felony categories. Similarly, in 2000 the
precinct experienced nine murders, 19 rapes,
23
422 robberies, 198 felonious assaults, 267 bur-
glaries and 358 car thefts or break-ins. Mur-
ders, robberies, felonious assaulrs and burglar-
ies have all fallen by between 58 and 75 percent
over the past seven years.
Crime has declined by a similar amount
throughout the city-by 62.7% percent citywide
in the last eight years, according to police depart-
ment figures. But because Fort Greene started
this period with a particularly high crime rate,
the fall to more manageable levels has had a sig-
nificant effect on the psychology of the neigh-
borhood. And increasingly, what crime does
remain in Fort Greene is contained within the
sprawling public housing in irs northern secrion.
POLICE AND PAROLE
OFFICERS MAKE MIDDLE .. OF
THE .. NIGHT SURPRISE VISITS.
PAROLE OFFICERS DON'T LIKE
THE CRACKDOWN.
T HEY WORRY THAT PUBLIC
HOUSING RESIDENTS
NOW VIEW THEM AS
INFORMANTS ENSNARING
MORE PEOPLE IN THE
CRIMINAL JUSTICE SYSTEM.
Newly arrived Fort Greene residents are
aware that their now-thriving streers haven't
been safe for very long, and they've gone out of
their way to make sure that those streers stay
safe. Even as crime has fallen, new residenrs
and business groups continue to insist that the
police do even more. "More demands are put
on the police already and even more are going
to be put on the police in the future, " says one
local homeowner who has been involved in
meetings between residents and police. At
some of these invitation-only meetings, home-
owners have asked neighbors, police lieu-
tenants, detectives and local political figures to
sit down in their living rooms and discuss how
best to lower crime on their streets. "You have
24
people moving into the neighborhood who
expect better levels of service than in the past.
It's an economic issue," says the homeowner.
With his partner, Richard M. bought a
house in the late 1980s for $400,000. He could
now sell it for more than double that. The 48-
year-old chef and caterer won't give his last
name for fear of reprisals. He's well aware that
crime could be much worse than it is: Mugged
at knife- and gun-point six times in his life,
including once in the Fort Greene area, he has
not been victimized in the past five years. But
he remains adamant that the police must pro-
tect his property and his quality of life. "I [have
been] asking them to make more arresrs. Drug
arresrs mainly. Now they're making quality-of-
life arrests, which is great," says Richard. Graffi-
ti and drug dealing are two of his chief com-
plainrs. "From a police point of view there has
to be more vigilance," he says.
In the spring of2000, in the wake of a drug-
related shooting on his street, Richard orga-
nized a large meeting in his house. Over 40
neighbors artended, as well as representatives
from the police precinct and the local congres-
sional and state assembly offices. The locals'
demands appeared reasonable: They didn't
want stray bullets whizzing past them when
they stepped outside their doors, and they
wanted the police to do whatever was necessary
to make the area safe. "We asked them to be
more responsive to what was going on in the
neighborhood," Richard remembers.
In the months since then, while Richard still
isn't entirely happy, he thinks the police are
now responding more to homeowners' con-
cerns. "Just getting people from standing on
the corner. Drinking. Loitering. Things [the
police] feel lead to bigger crimes. They've told
us they stop card games because that leads to
bigger things. Marijuana. Minimal things.
There's much more of a major presence of the
police in the area now."
Could crime return? "I don't think so," says
Loretta Brown, owner of the Clinton Hill Sim-
ply Art gallery and chair of the Myrtle Avenue
Merchants' Association. "I don't think the mer-
chants or the community would tolerate it. But
I don't know. The elements are here," she says,
talking of local hoodlums. "You have an inter-
esting mix of people."
Pressures from property and business owners
do maner. Jeremy Travis, co-author of the Urban
Institute report "From Prison To Home," notes
that in transforming neighborhoods such as Fon
Greene "the issue becomes more acute, because
the [gentrification] change creates more demands
upon the police." Caught between the urgings of
newly arrived property owners and the grievances
of poorer residenrs, the police face a dilemma,
says Travis. "Who do you listen to? Who is the
community voice that helps you decide your pri-
orities? Just the fact of urban renewal in a com-
munity policing environment causes problems
that are not new but are accentuated."
In Fort Greene, says Bob Evans, chair of
Community Board 2, the voice often comes
ftom people who weren't there for the bad times.
"You have people who are new to the neighbor-
hood. They perceive the police as benign. Many
ask for quality of life pressures-gerring people
off the street, not lerring them sit on the stoop.
It's been driven by economics-as much the call
for middle-income minorities as for whites."
F
ort Greene, of course, isn't the only place
in the city where aggressive misdemeanor
arresrs have been a leading tool of law
enforcement. After all, it was the centerpiece of
former Mayor Rudolph Giuliani's zero-toler-
ance strategy, aggressive "broken windows"
policing that cracks down on even the mildest
manifestations of social disorder.
Citywide, as the high crime rates of the
1980s leveled out and then plummeted, misde-
meanor arrests-for marijuana possession,
public urination, the consumption of alcohol
in parks and the like-increased. They went up
by about 66 percent between 1987 and 1999,
from 150,000 arrests to just over 250,000.
In Fort Greene, the statistics are even starker.
In 1987, the local police arrested 1,104 people
on misdemeanor charges. Three years later that
number had declined to 846--Iess than one
arrest for every four misdemeanor complainrs
received by the precinct. Then the numbers
began to increase. By 1998, despite the dramatic
falls in crime, the 88th Precinct received 4,001
misdemeanor reporrs and made 1,926 misde-
meanor arrests-- an increase of nearly 75 percent
ftom a decade earlier. In the first half of 1999,
that number ratcheted up still further, to 1,014
arresrs in a six-month period, carried out by 88th
Precinct police patrols, police assigned to the
public housing, transit cops and traffic police.
For public housing residenrs, such policing
has become a brutal fact of daily life. "They run
up on our kids, slam 'em against a wall and
search 'em," says tenant Edna Grant. According
to Wallace Scon, who has been running tenant
patrols against local drug dealers for the past
few years, the problem runs even deeper: he
contends that police don't conduct foot patrols
of the projecrs to the extent they do on the mid-
CITY LIMITS
dle-class streets, th us failing to establish the sort
of peaceable community police presence credit-
ed with reducing crime in so many parts of the
country. When police enter the public housing,
they do so with overwhelming force. "We have
too many different officers coming into the area
who are not familiar with the area or with our
kids," Scott states. "And when they do come in,
they come in swinging."
Misdemeanor arrests have soared during a
period in which crime reports have declined 60
percent. This extremely proactive policing can be
interpreted as a kind of success: Arresting more
people for ever-more-trivial infringements of the
law suppresses more serious criminal activity.
That's the heart of broken windows policing.
But critics argue that these numbers also
reflect a police culture that promotes a contin-
ued, ofren unnecessary, emphasis on high
arrest rates at a time when serious crime has
fallen to its lowest level in decades. "They're so
driven by numbers now," ex-Police Commis-
sioner William Bratton was quoted as saying
in 1998, "that as they have less and less crime
to work on, they start going after things that
are really far-fetched."
Says Mike Jacobson, onetime city commis-
sioner of parole and now a professor of crimi-
nal justice at New York City's John Jay College,
"The cops now make far more misdemeanor
arrests than they ever used to make. It clearly
comes with huge social and political costs."
The revolving door of the city's jail and
court system, argue Jacobson and other
experts, is leading to people losing wages and
losing jobs, breaking down parent-children
relationships, making people more vulnerable
to homelessness and, in the long-term, under-
mining the stability of communities.
JeremyTravis says that New York has much
to learn from Boston's experience sustaining
lower crime rates. There, beginning in the mid-
1990s, the police department, in conjunction
with the grassroots-based Ten Point Coalition,
scholars such as Harvard's David Kennedy, and
a variety of community groups, worked with
local teenagers, gangs, and others deemed to be
at particular risk of inflicting harm or getting
hurt, in an effort to eradicate crime. "It was a
very targeted deterrence model," notes Travis,
"involving meetings with police, gangs, church-
es." At its peak, Boston saw no teen murders for
two years. Its model of interventionist policing is
now being taken up by forces in Indianapolis,
Minneapolis, Portland and other cities. "The
lessons in Boston are powerful," Travis says.
Unlike the NYPD's recent policy of massive
JANUARY 2002
sweeps against misdemeanor offenders, Boston's
goal is "not arrest for arrest's sake. It's to change
behavior."
A
misdemeanor arrest is a burden for
anyone. But for people who are on
probation or parole, it can easily mean
the end of their freedom. In Fort Greene, the
number of people being released from jail con-
tinues to ourpace the number of those going
in. In 1993, 4,497 Brooklyn residents were
sentenced to prison, or a full 18 percent of all
prison terms issued statewide. In 2000, at the
end of a decade in which New York City's
unemployment numbers fell steadily, the city's
economic base expanded, and the crack epi-
demic subsided, only 1,895 Brooklyn residents
were sent to prison, representing barely 10 per-
cent of total commitments statewide.
In 2000, the 88th Precinct registered 262
parolees within its borders; another hundred-
plus lived in the nearby Farragut public housing
units just outside the precinct borders. Not far to
the east, in Bedford-Stuyvesant the 75th Precinct
had close to 800 parolees; in Crown Heights, the
77th Precinct included well over 500. Hundreds
more, who have either served out their parole, or
who were released from prison unsupervised afrer
"maxing our" their sentence or because of good-
rime credits from the prison system, also live
within the area, as do hundreds of others who
have spent rime in local jails.
Citywide, while fewer than 10 percent of
parolees end up back behind bars within the
first year of their parole, 40 percent return to
prison within three years.
Since 1997, police (whose traditional respon-
sibility has been to enforce the law) and parole
(whose job is to monitor and also help ex-pris-
oners during their years of conditional release) in
Brooklyn North and elsewhere have cooperated
closely to monitor ex-offenders and find them in
violation of parole for any infractions.
In Fort Greene, for example, police, parole
and probation officers are going to great lengths
to implement law enforcement programs such
as Operation JAWS Ooint Absconder Warrant
Squad), begun in 1999 to track down parole
violators; Operation Gunslinger, which targets
parolees for questioning about local drug activ-
ities; the Targeted Offenders Program to moni-
tor parolees deemed to be a particular risk to the
community; and Operation Nightwatch, a par-
ticularly controversial program, starred in 1997,
that in addition to searches and drug tests
involves middle-of-the-night surprise visits to
parolees by teams made up of both parole and
police officers. All of these are designed to
ensure crime statistics stay low. Politically, they
also serve to boost the NYPD's arrest numbers.
Says Willis Toms, council leader for Parole
Division 236 of the Public Employees Federa-
25
tion, if a parolee is arrested on marijuana charges,
"he is going to be violated. He'll probably serve
another year." "One of our concerns, " says Mil-
ton Stroud, a parole bureau chief working in
downtown Brooklyn, "is the number of people
being returned to state facilities as a result of drug
arrests. " He's speaking of men like 22-year-old
Sace, who served three years in prison for a drug
conviction, then had to do another year after a
urine test indicated he had been smoking weed.
When the results came in, recalls Sace, "my
parole officer asked me to work for them and tell
on people on the streets. I'd have to watch them
and report on them. I wasn't willing to do that. I
went on the run. I got caught and had to serve the
year. It was a terrible experience: In order to stay
out of jail, I'd have to put other people in jail."
The parole officers' union doesn't like the
crackdown either; they say the NYPD is
encroaching on their turf. Members also worry
that heavy-handed tactics are undermining
community trust in the Division of Parole, with
public housing residents increasingly viewing
parole officers as informants looking to ensnare
more people in the criminal justice system,
rather than as allies helping released prisoners
stay out of trouble. But with orders from on
high, officers have to cooperate. "You drop in
on these people, take them to the precinct and
make them urinate, " explains one high-ranking
parole officer. "Taking them to the precinct
26
allows the cops to question them about their
knowledge of criminal activities."
The police are likewise exploiting parole
officers' legal access to private homes. When a
parole officer pays a visit ro a parolee, he can
search only the ex-ofFender's bedroom. Howev-
er, when the police accompany a parole offi-
cer-thus bypassing the need to get a search
warrant-the cops can search the entire apart-
ment, and even arrest a parolee's relatives or
roommates on gun or narcotics charges. "There
was a few incidents like that in Ingersoll," says
Canada. "Where they came in and as a result
the family got evicted from city housing.
Because there are drugs in the house and he [the
parolee) doesn't admit they're his, everybody in
the house gets arrested. As far as I know it's a
new thing, because they used to come in with a
warrant looking for a specific person. "
N
ew York is not alone in targeting people
on parole for crackdowns. Nationwide,
in 1980, 18 percent of those admirted
to state prisons were put away for violations of
parole. By 2000 that percentage had doubled,
to 36 percent; almost half were busted for
minor drug infractions. According to Travis'
Urban Institute report, seven out of 10 parolees
completed their parole terms in 1984, but by
1998 only 45 percent did so. Fully 42 percent
of parolees were being returned to prison, the
majority of them for technical parole violations.
In California, 65 percent of prison admissions
in 1998 were for parole violations.
As law enforcement clamps down on increas-
ingly minor crimes and parole violations,
parolees are caught in a cycle of incarceration,
release, and reincarceration. "The problem is
you have parole agencies with no resources," says
Jacobson. "So once [parolees) start to violate,
parole officers are in this bind-because they
have nothing else, no intermediate steps they
can take, they either have to ignore the violation
or take the most expensive, punitive step and
send someone back to prison. In an irrational
environment, it's a rational decision. "
It is a trend exacerbated by the hard eco-
nomic truths faced by most ex-cons. According
to Mindy Tarlow of the Center for Economic
Opportunities, a Lower East Side organization
that works with close to 2,000 citywide parolees
each year, only about 65 percent of the group's
clients find jobs; of those, fewer than half
remain employed six months later. For the vast
number of returning prisoners who receive no
job placement assistance, the employment sta-
tistics are even grimmer. Not surprisingly, many
resort to crime. "Eighty-three percent of people
who violate probation or parole are unem-
ployed. That's a staggering number," says Tar-
low, citing state Department of Labor statistics.
Tarlow's organization sends out about 200
people each day to work as janitors at CUNY
campuses and cleaners at city piers, among
other jobs. The crews work four-day weeks and
are paid from a pool of money allotted by New
York State. "It essentially builds a little resume
for them, " says Jacobson. "It's incredibly suc-
cessful. In public safety and criminal justice
terms these types of public works programs, and
education programs, are the things that keep
people from going back to crime."
On the fifth day, the ex-cons meet with an
employment counselor, to prepare for finding
work on their own. "If more people were
employed," Tarlow argues, "you could break the
cycle of incarceration." She believes public agen-
cies and non profits should coordinate to provide
services, from job-finding to drug treatment, in
neighborhoods with large numbers coming out
of jail and prison. "It's about having a real service
delivery system," Tarlow says.
Jacobson believes that, paradoxically, the
recession could help ex-off enders-with money
tighter than ever, the state might be persuaded to
expand public works programs for the thou-
sands of parolees returning to communities. The
Continued on page 33
CITY LIMITS
Hizzoner
Students
By Rekha Balu
A mayor can run the schools,
but can he keep an unruly
class in order?
EX-MAYOR RUDOLPH GIULIANI'S vitriolic pledge co
"blow up the Board of Education" ruffied more
than a few feathers, especially because it came on
the heels of the Columbine massacre.
But it struck a chord, too. New York's faltering
public schools need a radical jolt. A state legisla-
tive task force, consisting of unions, educarors
JANUARY 2002
INTELLIGENCE
THE BIG IDEA
and business groups began hearings this past
November to look at changing how New York's
public schools are run. One of the ideas they'll'
consider is whether New York City should follow
the lead of other large urban districts in an exper-
iment ro save crumbling schools and failing stu-
dents: shifting control of the public schools from
the Board of Education ro the mayor's office, a
measure Mayor Michael Bloomberg and other
candidates for his job embraced.
In the 1990s, dropout and illiteracy rates grew
co such embarrassing proportions in Chicago,
Cleveland, Bosron and smaller cities that their
mayors wrested control from their school boards
in a bid ro save their cities' reputations and their
own political futures. Mayors won suppon from
business leaders and state legislatures, if not from
teachers and parents, by promising that tighter
control of the system would improve educational
outcomes for students.
It didn't, or at least not as dramatically as
people had hoped. While it may not guarantee
higher literacy and lower dropout rates, may-
oral control can accomplish a few key objec-
tives: It speeds coordination of school services
with parks and public safety, and in Chicago,
afrer Mayor Richard Daley rook over the
school system in 1995, it even helped attract
the middle class back ro the city.
The biggest payoff, it turns out, is finan-
cial. By positioning schools as economic
engines, mayoral control corrals business as a
stakeholder in schools. Better students mean
better prospective employees. And that keeps
business-meaning jobs, consumers and
votes-in rown. Often mayors will shoulder
the burden of increased accountability for
school performance-meaning no more
blame games with the Board of Education-
because they gain greater access ro both pub-
lic and private financing.
"From Lindsay right through Giuliani, the
BOE's independence has not helped it in the
resource area," says Noreen Connell, executive
direccor of the Educational Priorities Panel.
(Connell even believes the state legislature may
make mayoral control a condition of settling the
Campaign for Fiscal Equity lawsuit, though
State Assembly Education Committee Chair
Steven Sanders says that's not in the cards.)
But ifholding one person accountable makes
the business community and state governments
more confident investing money, it also leaves
them more comfortable making demands. May-
oral control thus introduces some powerful new
players ro an already overcrowded, chaotic and
highly political arena. "It raises the influence of
the business community in a playing field they
didn't used to dominate," says Dorothy Shipps,
an education professor at Teachers College at
Columbia University, whose studies of the
Chicago experiment will appear in fWo forth-
coming books on urban education.
In New York, where in only fwO of32 com-
munity school districts more than half of stu-
dents read at grade level, the pressure to deliv-
er numbers could be intense. Already, last
year's battle over Edison schools has pitted
teachers, parents and students against the
school board, and the chancellor against the
business community.
What has dogged most urban school
reform efforts is not finding the right person
ro do the job but struggling ro involve and
appease the myriad stakeholders in educa-
tion-parents, teachers, principals, unions,
business and students. In Chicago, the delicate
task of getting all these multiple partners ro act
in concert proved much more difficult than
anyone anticipated.
27
INTELLIGENCE
THE BIG IDEA
CHICAGO'S FIRST BIG STEP in mayoral reform
came in Daley's selection of a noneducator,
city budget director and fmancial whiz Paul
Vallas, to serve as "CEO" of the schools. Busi-
ness leaders in Chicago wanted an "outside the
box" thinker; parents and principals wanted an
educator. Vallas, like schools CEOs in other
cities, ultimately appointed an educator to
head academic instruction.
Vallas' first victory was creating a clear strate-
gy for increasing school financing. He under-
stood politics and policy enough from his days as
a state revenue analyst to know that a school
board doesn't hold much clout with the state leg-
islature or private business (read donors), but a
mayor does. With Daley's help, Vallas got addi-
tional state financing and raised property taxes in
Chicago, directing the revenues to the schools.
But a fiscal strategy alone wasn't enough.
While every school received badly needed build-
ing renovations, there was no parallel tollout of
strategic instruction reform. To improve student
performance, say education experts, instruction
needs to improve in tandem with financing,
building improvements and principal training.
"They need to be parallel processes," says Richard
Elmore, a professor at Harvard University's Grad-
uate School of Education who has studied Dis-
trict 2, on Manhattan's East Side. "Chicago made
the mistake of focusing on financing and admin-
istration first, leaving the toughest part of
reform"-student achievement-until the
fourth and sixth years of mayoral control.
In the end, Chicago's efforts fell shon on
the big hot-button issues: test scores and tuIn-
ing around failing schools. Though scores
increased initially after the mayor appointed
Vallas, they didn't improve across all racial and
economic groups. And after six years of may-
oral control, half of Chicago's students remain
below national norms.
Vallas trotted out a number of programs to
combat low student test scores, but none
seemed to cohere around a single strategy for
improving math and reading proficiency. "He
had a program for every problem, but the pro-
grams would be launched before they were
fully designed or [staffed], " says John Ayers,
executive director of Leadership for Quality
Education (LQE) , the education-centered
spinoff of a Chicago business group much like
the New York City Parmership.
LQE and the rest of the business commu-
nity advocated for "school choice"-i.e., char-
ter schools-and better people management.
Business, like many stakeholders, wanted bet-
ter teachers spread throughout the system, not
concentrated in the best schools, which the
teachers tended to favor. It also promoted
28
more outsourcing of education services to
nonprofits and private companies-a trend
gathering speed in New York as well.
When business puts its money behind schools,
it wants to see results. When a mayor banks his
political future on schools, he wants outcomes he
can cite. This public and private sector demand
for improvement can provide a much-needed
impetus for schools, but it also creates a new man-
date for listening to outside interests.
In Chicago, a rescue plan for the city's worst-
performing schools was a painful display of how
powerless a mayor's school management team
can be when business stakeholders expect a high
return in exchange for their suppott. Under the
plan, the schools were reorganized or assigned a
curriculum from the central office. But reorga-
nization simply prolonged disarray among weak
schools, while the centralized curriculum didn't
imptove student test scores. The business com-
munity was displeased. "There was too much
stick, not enough carrot," says Ayers. The inter-
vention in curriculum not only failed to bring
significant improvements, he says; it penalized
students instead of teachers.
Shipps agrees, but sees a different cause.
"There were very few incentives for teachers,"
she says. With a standard curriculum from the
central office, she adds, teachers felt no respon-
sibility for their students' learning. The experi-
ment became a microcosm of the familiar
blame game between the Board of Education
and City Hall: "The last thing we want is to pit
students against teachers in terms of who's
going to get blamed for the failure of a school,"
says Shipps.
IF NEW YORK'S NEW MAYOR wants to head a drive
for higher math and reading scores, he will have
to meet an unspoken and perhaps unfair expec-
tation to reform all of the system simultaneously,
not sequentially. Can one person jumpstatt all
that-and run a city at the same time?
Assemblymember Sanders, whose committee
will be key in deciding whether New York City
gets to try this experiment, doesn't think so. "A
unilateral decision maker is inconsistent with the
reality of multiple stakeholders who need to be
involved in public education," Sanders says.
No matter who runs the schools, it's that
power to manage and inspire the teachers on the
front line that will make or break reform efforts.
"By now people should see it's not one person
who turns [the schools] around," says Jan Atwell,
executive director of the United Parents Associa-
tions. "It's the people in the trenches."
Rekha Balu is a freelance writer who writes
wide!) for business publications.
NEW REPORTS
Of all the complaints alleging discrimination
in public housing, physical disability accounts
for more than any other category. This detailed
government report shows that the federal
agency responsible for investigating com-
plaints and insuring that the disabled have
the right to safe and accessible housing-the
department of Housing and Urban Develop-
ment-has failed miserably. Incredibly, it
takes an average of 497 days to investigate
one complaint, and HUD settles only about 100
of the 6,000-plus annual cases.
"Reconstructing Fair Housing"
National Council on Disability
2D2-272-2004 or www.ncd.gov
Although business likes New York City's mass
transit system and concentration of highly
educated workers, the Empire State gets
mixed grades for effort in this study's assess-
ment of 70 economic development criteria in
each state. New York is in the middle of the
pack nationwide--one C, one A and a B--
when it comes to economic development.
Where the city fell short: lack of sectoral
diversity due to a dependence on finance and
real estate; lowest rate of small business
loans in the country; and, of course, high
housing costs.
"State Development Card 2001"
Corporation for Enterprise Development
202-408-9788 or drc.cfed.org
Welfare may not be on the lips of our fearless
leaders (are you there, Bloomy?), but 2002 is a
critical year for public assistance: Congress will
vote on the reauthorization of welfare reform, the
state will start its new safety net benefit pro-
gram and the rolls are sure to rise. By analyzing
data from the city's 1993, 1996 and 1999 Hous-
ing and Vacancy Surveys, this careful review
shows that while fewer families now live below
the poverty line, more hover just above it-
including most mothers coming off welfare.
"Weffare Reform and Community
Development in New York City"
Citizen's Housing & Planning Council
212-286-9211 or info@chpcny.org
CITY LIMITS
The War on Cities
By Keith Kloor
Downtown: Its Rise and Fall, 1880-1950 by Robert M. Fogelson
Yale University Press, $35, 492 pages
ANYONE WHO HAS A HAND in shaping New York's
future should read Robert Fogelson's meticu-
lously researched Downtown: Its Rise and Fall,
1880-1950, which could easily have been titled
How to Screw Up Downtown, Accelerate Decen-
tralization, and Engineer the Collapse of the
American City.
Fogelson, an urban historian at the Massa-
chusetts Institute of Technology, certainly didn't
intend to draw any parallels between New York's
current crisis and the dire maits confronting
American cities over half a century ago. His book
was completed before the World Trade Center
disaster, and his subject is the quintessential
downtown that gave rise to urban America.
Nonetheless, the lessons are there. As Fogel-
son recounts, decentralization and depopulation
were the two primary forces that began eroding
cities a hundred years ago. And those who were
most desperate to halt them, in cities from
Boston to Seattle, were downtown business own-
ers and urban leaders. At the time, downtown-
or the central business district-had emerged as
an economic monolith, the kingmaker of the
city. But as Fogelson lays bare, its very composi-
tion-the strict separation of business and resi-
dential neighborhoods-ultimately led to its
undoing, and the American city's demise.
Fogelson vividly recreates the long-forgot-
ten political battles and public-policy debates
that shaped this outcome, carrying his narra-
tive through department store magnates, tran-
sit planners, office-building owners, highway
engineers "and the elected officials to whom
they answered."
Readers will wince at the missed opportuni-
ties (failing to fund nationwide rapid transit in
the 1920s, when popular enthusiasm was there)
and misguided schemes (building urban free-
ways, several decades later, that fed into down-
towns, in the hope of enhancing access for sub-
urban residents). "Urban redevelopment, " or
"slum clearance," as it was otherwise known in
the mid-20th century, was their final master-
stroke. By the book's end, it's clear that down-
town business owners joined with policymakers
JANUARY 2002
and urban advocates to unwitting-
ly sabotage downtown and insure
the city's demise.
THE IDEA OF "DOWNTOWN" took
off in the mid-1800s, aided by the
rapid spread of railways. This
improvement in transportation,
however, proved a double-edged
sword: railways enabled business-
es to become geographically con-
centrated and made downtown
more accessible, but they also
allowed people to disperse over a
wide area, a popular trend that
urban leaders and downtown
business owners did not fully
appreciate before it was too far underway.
While the actual geographical location of
downtown varied from city to city, what mat-
tered most was that it became known as the
place where buyers and sellers converged, a
bustling commercial and entertainment area
comprised of shops, banks, theaters, restaurants,
saloons, facrories, and hotels. "By the end of the
[19th] century, if not earlier," Fogelson says,
"downtown was synonymous with the business
district virrually everywhere in urban America."
It was also producing the nation's first traffic
jams and quality of life concerns. Hundreds of
thousands made the daily trip downtown in
Boston, Chicago and other cities. In New York,
a London Times correspondent reported that
"half a mil1ion or more rush 'down-town' every
morning and back 'up-town' at night."
The streets were clogged with railways and
all kinds of vehicles, some carrying people, and
others cargo. "On one day in the mid 1880s,"
Fogelson writes, "more than twenty-rwo thou-
sand of these vehicles, or one every rwo sec-
onds, passed the intersection of Broadway and
Fulton Street berween seven a.m. and six p.m. "
Sidewalks were just as bad. American Architect
and Building News complained in the early
1890s that downtown Boston's sidewalks were
"jammed to suffocation with pedestrians,"
INTELLIGENCE
CITY LIT
many of whom were "elbowing each other off
the sidewalk into the gutter."
Over the next several decades, downtown's
explosive growth prompted a range of mixed
feelings and contradictory responses. To ease
congestion, city officials, traffic engineers, and
business groups jousted over how to best serve
downtown's needs. Rapid transit was the pre-
ferred mode, but most cities got bogged down
in finance problems and political infighting; as
a result, few cities wound up with subways.
At the same time, automobile use was on the
rise, triggering debates over meet widening,
parking restrictions and highway conmuction.
As all of this was playing out, what Fogelson
terms "the specter of decentralization" began to
loom large. Continuing residential dispersal to
the suburbs, combined with worsening traffic
downtown, spawned outlying business districts.
Things went from bad to worse when the Great
Depression and World War II deflated down-
town land values and retail revenue.
By the 1940s, desperate business owners
and city officials, eager to win back suburban-
ites and egged on by the powerful highway
lobby, won federal funding for the building of
urban freeways that opened up driving arteries
into downtown. Fogelson, who maintains a
scrupulously objective tone throughout, sar-
29
INTELLIGENCE
CITY LIT
NOW READ THIS
Working Capital:
The Power of labor's Pensions
Edited by Archon Fung,
Tessa Hebb and Joel Rogers
Cornell University Press, $35
When corporations seek to bolster their short-term
stock value, workers often pay the price through
downsizing and layoffs. Workers' pension funds,
on the other hand, often surge in value. This book
lays out the problem-few pension fund man-
agers pay attention to worker's issues-and an
array of solutions, like innovative shareholder
strategies and labor-organized investment funds.
Islands in the City:
West Indian Migration to New York
Edited by Nancy Foner
University of California Press, $22.50
Half a million emigrants from the English-speaking
Caribbean have settled in New York City since 1965.
Foner's book explores their jobs, neighborhoods,
ongoing bonds to their homelands, and racial and
ethnic identities in 11 interdisciplinary essays. The
collection illuminates why West Indians have fared
better economically than African Americans but
also explores why their relative boom has fizzled.
I Wanna Take Me a Picture: Teaching
Photography and Writing to Children
By Wendy Ewald and Alexandra Lightfoot
Beacon Press, $24
Since 1970, celebrated photographer and educa-
tor Ewald has traveled the planet helping children
interpret their lives through photography. Her
lessons are basic: spend time discussing photos
with young people before taking them; integrate
writing with photography; don't fear simple
geometry. Ewald's book is also a treasure of pho-
tos taken by the author and her pupils, plus stir-
ring testimonies from children around the globe
who faced tragedy through the lens of a camera.
30
donically titles this chapter "Wishful Think- below market value."
ing." He also captures the prescient warnings Never mind that the money to relocate the
from critics, such as Lewis Mumford, who displaced residents never actually material-
famously quipped: "Instead of planning motor ized..As Fogelson remarks near the book's
cars and motorways to fit our life, we are rapid- conclusion, urban redevelopment's "overrid-
ly planning our life to fit the motor car." ing objective was not to wipe out the slums in
By making the central business district order to build decent housing and pleasant
more accessible, the new travel corridors evis- neighborhoods for low-income families.
cerated it. People suddenly found it easier to Rather it was to curb decentralization-to
move out of the city, and existing suburban res- induce the well-to-do to move back to the
idents were not lured back. "In one city after center by turning sl ums and blighted areas
another," writes Fogelson, "[the freeways] dis- into attractive residential communities-and,
placed many of the stores, offices, and other by so doing, to revitalize the central business
enterprises that were its lifeblood." district to ease the cities' fiscal plight."
When highways failed to be downtown's But as with their earlier miscalculations over
savior, business owners, realtors, and municipal highway building, urban officials and down-
officials next turned their eye to the gritty resi- town power brokers misread evolving business
dential areas surrounding the central business needs, public sentiment and the countervailing
district. Later known as the trend of suburban flight.
inner city, these were the During the 1940s and
poor and low-income 1950s, many firms needed
minority communities Downtown's relief from exorbitant city
where people lived if they rents or they needed more
couldn't afford to move to I d" d" I t" space-and could readily
the suburbs. sp en I ISO a Ion find both in the suburbs.
Come the 1940s, these They were also seeking a
"run-down" working class U It"1 mate Iy led to more bucolic setting, which
neighborhoods were deemed they believed would help
the cause of downtown's"t d" d attract and retain workers.
deterioration. Downtown I S un olng, an All this was occurring
business owners, civic lead- amid new Cold War fears,
ers, planners, and even some th e Am e ri ca n right .after the U.S. dr?ppe?
urban reformers labeled atomic bombs on Hlroshl-
these urban neighborhoods "t' d" ma and Nagasaki. "The
"blighted districts," and CI y S emlse. belief that the central busi-
blamed them for depressing ness district had outlived its
land values and keeping usefulness was heightened
white suburbanites from by the growing fear of
trekking into the city. atomic warfare," writes Fogelson. One planner
"If the cities are to live," said Joseph L. Kun, even suggested that the only defense against
a Philadelphia judge, "they must remove the atomic weapons was dispersal of the cities.
blighted areas, which like a cancerous growth Is any of this beginning to sound familiar?
would eventually destroy them." The solution Today, amid fears of terrorist attacks on urban
was to remove and rehabilitate them, wrote the centers, New York's business, political, and
Boston City Planning Board, before they civic leaders are placing all their chips on
"sapped the vitality of the city's existence." downtown Manhattan's economic recovery.
Such was the bedrock that "urban redevel- New York City's future and even the nation's
opment" (later known as "urban renewal") was fiscal health, we are often told, rely on its revi-
built on. In 1949, after a long and heated pub- talization. It is a refrain that, as Fogelson
lic debate over the merits of "slum clearance," amply shows, was made again and again by
and how it should be funded, President Harry the country's urban business leaders and may-
Truman signed the Housing Act of 1949, ors over 50 years ago. But in promoting only
which provided federal aid for the effort, into the well-being of downtown, to the exclusion
law. Specifically, the Act "authorized the feder- of other partS of the city, they brought both to
al government to help the cities acquire and their knees.
clear slum and blighted property in designated
redevelopment areas and sell or lease it to pri- Keith Kloor is a senior editor for Audubon
vate developers (or the public agencies) at magazine.
CITY LIMITS
Labor of Law
By Hilary Russ
With government ignoring
wage abuses, immigrant
sweatshop workers try a new
kind of suit.
GENERAllY STONE-FACED, Miguel Reyes has the
demeanor of a professional wrestler in minia-
rure. But his brawn didn't deter his boss at
JANUARY 2002
Sares International, the garment factory where
he has worked for three years, from bullying
Reyes when he tried to recoup $6,500 the com-
pany owed him in overtime pay.
It's a common enough siruation: Reyes, who
generally worked 60 hours each week as a plan-
chadtJr, or presser, was never paid time-and-a-half
for the 20-odd hours he clocked past 40 every
week. When Reyes filed a formal wage and hour
complaint with the u.s. Department of Labor
(DOL), "el dueno" -the owner-retaliated with
a harassment campaign as typical as it is illegal.
He reduced Reyes' hours, cut his wages down to
$ 5 .15 an hour and threatened to fire him or shut
the factory.
INTELLIGENCE
MAKING CHANGE
What made Reyes' predicament different
from that of countless others was its solution.
When the harassment began, members ofTraba-
jadores en Acci6n (Workers in Aerion)-a work-
ers' rights project of the Bushwick-based com-
munity organization Make the Road by Walk-
ing-pursued its usual course of action, protest-
ing outside the factory. But Make the Road staff
lawyers, Ben Sachs and Stephen Jenkins, also did
something that most workers' rights advocates,
unions and lawyers had never thought of doing
in a case like this: They went to federal court to
get a temporary restraining order against Sares,
ordering the company to cease all retaliation and
to return Reyes' hours and wages to previous lev-
els. A TRO, says Sachs, "is designed for a situa-
tion where you can't wait. This was a perfect
example. There were threats being issued and we
needed immediate protection. "
The extraordinary taeric worked. Reyes got
back $13,000 in overtime and damages and an
additional $2,000 for lawyer's fees. In addition,
the Department of Labor investigated and ulti-
mately ordered Sares to return $45,000 in back
pay to other workers in the factory. Sachs credits
the victory to "the double whammy" of a court-
ordered TRO and workers protesting outside.
With government unwilling or unable to
enforce labor laws for undocumented workers,
and federally funded legal services anorneys
barred from doing so, the task has been left to the
few small, grassroots groups that organize immi-
grant workers. More and more, those struggling
organizations are turning to creative legal strate-
gies and attention-grabbing lawsuits, shifting the
public battle away from government agencies that
oversee workplace conditions and into the courts.
In what he calls "the movement, " Mike
Wishnie has witnessed more suits and creative
uses of the law in recent years. "When I start-
ed doing this work 10 years ago, there were
almost no legal resources for these issues, " says
Wishnie, who founded the Immigrant Rights
Clinic at New York University's law school
rwo-and-a-half years ago. Now, he says, there
are more organizations-and more lawsuits.
As a result, the past few years have seen a string
of innovative, high-profile legal cases for immi-
grant and undocumented workers. In 1998, a
precedent-setting win in Lopez v. Silverman made
garment manufacturers liable under the Fair
Labor Standards Act (FLSA) for workers' unpaid
wages even if they were technically employed by
subcontractors. And in September 2000, the 318
Restaurant Workers Union used RICO, the fed-
eral anti-racketeering law, against Chinatown's
New Silver Palace Restaurant to stop owners and
managers from extorting tips from waitstaff'
31
INTELLIGENCE
MAKING CHANGE
among other labor violations. That same year, the
National Employment Law Project and State
Attorney General Eliot Spitzer's office brought a
case against Gristedes, Food Emporiwn and
Duane Reade stores for underpaying subcon-
tracted delivery workers.
All of these cases have illustrated, publicly,
the plight of immigrant workers. Big legal
cases, and the heated organizing effort and
worker protests that usually accompany them,
make headlines and draw members to commu-
niry workers' groups. Just filing a lawsuit can
rally workers to a cause, grab media attention
and draw high-proftle co-plaintiffs, like the
sympathetic Spirzer. More practically, a win or
an out-of-court settlement returns much-need-
ed money to workers who face eviction, home-
lessness or hunger without it.
Bur novel or routine, class action or indi-
vidual, civil lawsuits on behalf of immigrant
workers present mountainous obstacles. Fears
of deportation, firing, and wage or hour cuts
make many immigrants wary of coming for-
ward just to organize, let alone take an employ-
er to court. And once they do, most lawsuits
take a tortuously long time to come to fruition.
For the overburdened advocacy groups that
bring them, civil suits can quickly become a
trap. The power of legal action is too precious
for small groups to ignore, yet in the end ftling
lawsuits cannot eliminate the need for more
lawsuits. Suits can also distract activists from
the real mission: changing an inadequate law or
beeftng up enforcement.
Lopez v. Silverman is a case in point. Orga-
nizers hoped it would force subcontractors to
pay their workers fairly by bringing pressure to
bear on manufacturers. Bur while this victory
paved the way for further suits like the Food
Emporiwn case, it hasn't deterred clothing
manufacturers from subjecting sweatshop
laborers to other abuses.
HIGH-PROFILE LEGAL VICTORIES represent only a
fraction of the legal endeavors to obtain justice
for immigrant workers. The bulk is behind-the-
scenes support work, as well as small cases
brought by lawyers under the FLSA and the
National Labor Relations Act, or complaints
ftled to the Equal Employment Opportunity
Commission and the Department of Labor.
Bur suing under the FLSA boasts one huge
advantage: Ir allows a worker to get back double
damages. A hemer ftne is more likely to keep an
employer above board. By contrast, in Reyes' case
the Department of Labor offered only about
$3,500 in settlement, a little more than half of
what the company owed him. In many cases,
32
even though a worker is clearly owed money, the
DOL can't or won't pursue it at all.
Lawyers aren't necessarily available, though.
Even in New York City's well-structured social
service environment, poor immigrant workers
must rely on a tiny network of pro bono and
advocacy lawyers specializing in workplace viola-
tions in the underground economy. In and
around the city, where there are an estimated
half million undocumented workers, and
12,000 labor law violations brought to the DOL
every year, there are no more than 15 working
lawyers in this fteld.
The Asian American Legal Defense and Edu-
cation Fund, a 27-year-old legal rights nonprof-
The power of legal
action is too
precious to ignore,
yet too tenuous
to rely on.
it, served more than 10,000 members in 1998
with six staff attorneys-a ratio of 1,666 clients
to each lawyer. "Think about the nwnber of
immigrants out there and realize that our orga-
nizations get requests every day from people
who have gotten screwed-and these are just the
people who decide to come forward," says Jen-
nifer Ching of the New Jersey ACLU's Immi-
grant Workers' Rights Project. "It seems to me
that whatever current litigation we can bring is
only a drop in the bucket."
Instead of farming out lawsuits to scarce attor-
neys, many small nonprofits have experimented
with creating staff positions for lawyers, often
funded by fellowships for pro-bono work. But
some organizers fear that by having lawyers on
staff, or by devoting too much time and energy to
legal cases, they are abandoning grassroots people-
power as the methodology of choice. Members
may end up looking upon their organization as
nothing more than a legal clinic. "People come in
and say, 'I hear you have lawyers, and I need a
lawyer,'" says Sachs. "There's a temptation to sim-
ply provide services."
A little more than 10 years ago, the Chinese
Staff and Workers Association brought a lawyer
onto its staff. After a while, the organization's focus
began to shift: "People treat you just like an
agency, or a law firm," says Executive Director
Wmg Lam, who recently won a Ford Foundaiton
leadership award for his anti-sweatshop work.
After two years, the association simply did not
reapply for its grant money for the lawyer, and
went back to farming out legal work. "Ir's about
what your organization stands for," he says.
Even so, Lam is extremely proud of the cases
his organization has won and is now working on,
using lawyers ftom the Asian American Legal
Defense and Education Fund and clinics at NYU
and Fordham University, as well as private lawyers
and the state attorney general. "Most of the
famous cases come from here," he brags, chott!ing
at the irony. "We have all the good lawyers!"
Some advocates have worked hard to clear a
middle ground. In 1992, Jennifer Gordon
founded the Workplace Project on Long
Island, directing it until 1998. When the grass-
roots group started, says Gordon, it was "a legal
clinic that was consciously intended to lead to
organizing." Immigrant workers, mostly Lati-
no, often journeyed there for individual legal
attention. Bur the Workplace Project has
undergone its own transformation over the
years. "A lot of people have unrealistic expecta-
tions of a lawsuit, " notes current executive
director Nadia Marin-Molina. "When focusing
on individual cases, we weren't really solving
anything bur that worker's case." In response to
these concerns, workers now enter directly into
collectives within the project that are organized
according to industry. That way, says Marin-
Molina, workers will "immediately see that
they're part of a group."
Gordon, who went on to receive a
MacArthur genius award and is now working
on a book about the relationship between the
law, organizing, and immigrant advocacy work,
advises using lawsuits strategically. "This isn't a
thing everyone should do, " she suggests. "Ir's a
question people should ask: ' How could a legal
strategy advance an organizing strategy?'"
No matter how successful particular cases
may be, lawyers and organizers alike agree that
lawsuits alone won't change the system respon-
sible for many immigrant workers' problems.
As Lam points out, the Spanish word for
lawyer, abogado, means "advocate." It's an
advocate's job to fight for others, but a worker,
he believes, needs to ftght for him or herself
When they do that, he proclaims, "it's a sort of
liberation. " And the law? "That's just a begin-
ning," he laughs .
Hilary Russ is a feelance writer in New York City.
CITY LIMITS
COURAGE OF HIS CONVICTION
Continued from page 21
decided not ro oppose Warner's release.
Colin Warner left prison on February 1,
2001. "The day Colin was released was like a
miracle you prayed for and worked hard ro
see," says King, who showed up with Catherine
Warner and a crowd of news media ro greet
Colin at Fishkill Correctional Facility.
But now, nearly a year after his release, the
state is fighting Warner's multimillion-dollar
claim under the state's Wrongful Conviction
act, which is seeking compensation for pain
and suffering and lost wages. In papers signed
by Assistant Artorney General Janet Polstein,
the state argues that although Robedee listed
numerous factual grounds for overturning
Warner's conviction in his motion ro get the
case dismissed-including misconduct by
prosecurors and the use of false evidence ro
obtain a jury decision-Judge John Leventhal
never cited any of them in his ruling, thus
making Warner ineligible for an award.
New York is unusual in even offering the
prospect of compensation; Ohio is the only
other state with such a law. The state legislature
created the Wrongful Conviction and Imprison-
ment Act in 1984, the culmination of a series of
efforts ro compensate the unjustly incarcerated
that date back ro the 24-year imprisonment and
near-execution of Izzy Zimmerman, a hotel
doorman who had been framed as a murder
accessory by gangsters. Since the act was passed,
no more than 200 people have filed cases,
according ro the Court of Claims. Of those,
fewer than 20 have received awards. That's part-
ly explained by the law itself, designed ro limit
the volume of claims: People whose convictions
were overturned on the basis of factual evidence
are eligible, bur those who were released on con-
stitutional or technical grounds are not. The ex-
CROSSING T HE LINE
Continued from page 26
potential savings in diverting nonviolent parole
offenders away from prison and into jobs, guess-
es Jacobson, could be up to $100 million a year.
Darnel Canada agrees that the price of doing
nothing is high. ''I'm seeing old faces," says
Canada. "And they're coming out [of prison]
looking for employment. I know without
employment it isn't going to be too long before
the situation arises that got them inro prison in
the flfst place. Once I can take care of my three
basic needs-food, shelter and clothing-then I
can think about basic principles of morality. But
until I can, I go into survival mode."
In a brutal economy, Fort Greene faces
JANUARY 2002
con also has ro prove ro a judge beyond a rea-
sonable doubt that he or she is innocent. This
serves ro exclude not only perpetrators ftom col-
lecting awards, bur some innocent people, roo.
When it comes ro viable claims for compensa-
tion, the state has consistently worked to mini-
mize how much it has ro payout, much as the
defense in a lawsuit does. "It's the technical argu-
ments that are keeping people ftom gerting their
settlements," says Scott Christianson, a professor
of criminal justice at Bard College who is com-
pleting a book on wrongful convictions. "Ulti-
mately, the wrongfully convicted get a smaller
amount than they anticipate. A $10 or $20 mil-
lion suit is settled by the court for $40,000, and I
find that very depressing."
A handful of claimants have done berter,
receiving settlements ranging from a few hun-
dred thousand dollars ro over a million, bur
because these cases are decided by a judge,
wrongful conviction claims never result in the
kind of megabucks awards juries are prone to
make. "You're looking at only about $100,000
a year [of incarceration}, in extraordinary cases
more ifit was a hotrible experience," says Man-
hattan artorney Irving Cohen, who has filed
eight cases under the act. ''The compensation
level is low, but that's what's been established. I
can't come in with a guy who's been in for three
years and ask for a million dollars. "
While the coauthor of the act, Assemblymem-
ber Richard Gottfried, says he's skeptical that the
penalties discourage prosecurors from abuses of
their power, criminal defenders say that some
kind of accountability is urgently needed in order
ro prevent ordeals like Warner's from happening
in the first place. Says attorney Ron Tabak, "We
need to have something systemic where prosecu-
tors and police officers who are personally
engaged in failing to provide evidence [proving a
suspect's innocence] are held responsible."
In Warner's case, there's at least one way the
renewed challenges. It will somehow have to
preserve lower crime levels and higher property
values, without an ever-more-coercive police
presence in poorer parts of the area. Police have
to maintain public order without sweeping
young men and women into jail on two-bit
charges. Ex-cons need new job opportunities at
a time when everyone's feeling the economic
crunch, while drug users need something other
than the criminal justice system as a front-line
social service intervention. Above all, though,
the challenge comes down to priorities: how to
fairly provide police services to all residents.
In the summer of 1999, the residences of
several Pratt Institute students were burglar-
ized. Police patrols were on practically every
street looking for the culprit. Eventually, they
money would help: he and King plan to use it to
establish a center investigating cases for the
wrongly convicted. "Most cases are circumstan-
tial, where there is no physical evidence ro tie the
perpetrator to the crime," notes King. "Most
lawyers just jump into the legal aspects and play
it by the books, but we look at the first police
reports, statements, witnesses, and try to get a
picture together of what really happened. "
Already, Warner has connected with others
who've been through what he's endured. When
Anthony Faison and Charles Shepard were
released in May after serving 14 years for the
murder of a livery cab driver-the sole prosecu-
tion witness, a crack addict, confessed she had
framed them for the crime-Colin Warner was
there to greet them. He had met Faison while
working at a prison law library. That day, Faison
told Warner that when he saw news of his release
on television, it gave him hope that he too
would someday be found innocent.
"There are a lot of innocent people in prison,
who were railroaded back in the '70s and ' 80s,"
says Warner. "Bur many more are being rail-
roaded today, and nobody in the [NYPD] or the
district anorney's office is being held responsible
for this injustice. Until we get together and pur
some pressure on the system, then we will always
be at the mercy of the system."
After everything he's given and given up,
Warner does what he can to spread forgiveness.
Last April, on the anniversary of Mario Hamil-
ton's death, he lit a candle near the intersection of
Erasmus and Lon, and intends to do it again.
"Every year I give time our just to honor him and
let him know that even though I was implicated
in his murder, I had nothing to do with it," he
says. "It's a whole cycle of hurt from an act that
was senseless to begin with."
Curtis Harris is a Brooklyn-based freelance jour-
nalist.
caught him and charged him with possession
of crack. When a parole violator ran onto the
Prart Institute's campus a few months later,
police from the 88th Precinct surrounded, and
cordoned off, the entire institute.
"People don't pay artention to crime in the
projects, " says one local parole officer. "But when
someone walks into Clinton Hill and commits a
crime, it's more serious. People take note. What's
happening on the other side of the park, in the
projects, people don't care about. And that's
always been the attitude of Fort Greene."
Sasha Abramsky is a Brooklyn-based freelance
writer. This article was supported by a grant from
the Center on Crime, Communities and Culture
of the Open Society Institute
33
JOBADS
ADVERTISE IN
CITY
LIMITS!
To place a classified ad in City
Limits, e-mail your ad to
advertise@citylimits.org or fax
your ad to 212-479-3339. The
ad will run in the City Limits
Weekly and City Limits mag-
azine and on the City Limits
web site. Rates are $1.46 per
word, minimum 40 words.
Special event and professional
directory advertising rates are
also available. For more infor-
mation, check out the Jobs
section of www.citylimits.org
or call Associate Publisher
Anita Gutierrez at
212-479-3345.
RENTALSPACE
OFFICE SPACE SUBLET. Agency subletting one
windowed office (8 x 11) and one large cubicle
on west 30th St in beautiful, collegial office.
Share kitchen, conference room, bathrooms
and reception area. Perfect for individual or
small org. $1035/month & sec.deposit.. Con-
tact Jill at 212-947-9979 x18.
Spacious office for rent in sunny Soho loft. Two
windows, wood floors. Use of conference and
storage rooms, copier. Short/long term. Poten-
tially furnished. $1600/month (incl. electric,
etc). Contact the Neighborhood Economic
Development Advocacy Project (NEDAP) at
NEDAPNY@aol.com, or (212) 680-5100.
West 20th Street between 6th and 7th
Avenues. 2,200 square feet, hardwood floors,
high ceilings, elevator, 4th floor, shared T-1
broadband connectivity & shared conference
and webcasting room. $3,500/month includ-
ing utilities, and some furnishings. 212-206-
1244 ext. 107.
JOBADS
Just Food, NYC non-profit, seeks COMMUNITY
SUPPORTED AGRICULTURE (CSA)PROGRAM
COORDINATOR. CSA connects regional farmers
with low-income New Yorkers - supporting
farmer livelihoods and improving access to
fresh produce. Responsibilities:
outreach/organizing with low-income urban
communities and farmers, facilitating train-
ings, strategic planning. Qualifications: BA,
minimum 2 years organizing/supervising
34
experience, agriculture/food systems back-
ground preferred. Spanish preferred. Mid-
senior level position. We also seek VISTA Mem-
ber for CSA Program. For full job descriptions
call 212 645 9880 ext 11.
A non-profit organziation seeks an experienced
person with a MSW to provide MENTAL HEALTH
SERVICES to high risk youths. Services
include assessment, individual, group, and
family therapies. Experience in mental health
and adolescent development a must. Fax
resume to (212)760-0766.
EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT. The Pratt Area Com-
munity Council (PACC) is a not-for-profit orga-
nization improving the Brooklyn communities
of Ft. Greene, Clinton Hill , and Bedford
Stuyvesant. PACC seeks an Executive Assis-
tant to provide high-level administrative sup-
port including writing and responding to corre-
spondence, scheduling, and drafting reports.
Responsible for coordinating outreach to
Board of Directors. Must have knowledge of
office procedures and equipment, superior
verbal and written communication skills, and
significant computer proficiency. Ideal candi-
date will be a detail oriented self starter with
the ability to organize, coordinate, and priori-
tize workload in a fast-paced office. Opportu-
nity for professional growth. Send cover letter,
resume, and salary requirements to: PACC,
201 Dekalb Avenue, Brooklyn, NY 11205 or fax
to 718-522-2604.
LEGAL ASSISTANTS. Exceptional organization-
al skills, some clerical experience, and strong
written and oral communication skills
required. Interest in immigrant issues a plus.
Send resume and cover letter to DJM, 112
Fourth Avenue, Mezzanine Floor, New York, NY
10003.
National Employment and Training corporation
seeking FIT GED/ABE TEACHER/INSTRUCTOR
for job readiness/job placement program in
NEWARK,NJ. Previous success in training, edu-
cation or placement agencies required. Experi-
ence with welfare-to-work programs a plus.
Fax cover letter, resume and salary require-
ments to B.Lynch 610-566-9482.
The Catalog for Giving of New York City is a
non-profit organization that raises funds and
advocates for community-based youth devel-
opment organizations. The Catalog is seeking
an EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR who is an experi-
enced fund raiser and an energetic and enthu-
siastic self-starter with a hands-on approach
to accomplishing tasks. The Executive Direc-
tor will have principal responsibility for
expanding The Catalog's fund raising beyond
$1 million annually and for strengthening The
Catalog's current operations. Candidate must
have proven fundraising success, communi-
cation skills, knowledge of budgets, and man-
agement experience. Commitment to serving
youth a must. Salary commensurate with
experience, excellent benefits. Please send
resume & cover letter to: Search Committee,
CFG, 250 W. 57th Street, Suite 1429, NY, NY
10107. Fax: 212-765-8190 or send to
webmaster@cfgnyc.org.
EAP COORDINATOR. Join a talented team of
skilled and energetic professionals in a new
and innovative transitional work initiative for
people in recovery from alcohol and substance
abuse. Bilingual skills(English/Spanish) a
plus. The EAP COORDINATOR Will coordinate
the services for MWS-NY Client with treatment
program and job site to ensure case manage-
ment, vocational education, and support
needs are fully met. Position reports to Direc-
tor. QUALIFICATIONS: Master Degree in Voca-
tional Rehabi litation, Counseling or Guidence
Preferred; C.R.C. With two years related expe-
rience. Preferred candidates will be familiar
with substance abuse treatment and employ-
ment issues for individuals with multi-barriers
to employment. MWS-NY is a collaboration of
VIP Community Services AND NADAP ( Nation-
al Association on Drug Abuse Problems, Inc.)
Please send your resume to: Ms. D.l. Thomas,
Personnel Manager, VIP Community Services,
1910 Arthur Avenue, 4th Floor, Bronx, New York
10457, or Email to:DLThomasvip1@aol.com.
Fax: 718-299-1386.
Leading child care policy and resource organi-
zation is seeking a full time DIRECTOR of
DEVELOPMENT to work on all aspects of fund
development including foundation proposals,
public contracts and individual giving cam-
paign. Applicants must have excellent com-
munication skills, commitment to early care
and education and knowledge of program
development. At least two years experience in
development work in a non profit preferred.
Excellent opportunity for growth in dynamic
organization. Position available immediately.
Send resume to Child Care, Inc., 275 7th Ave.
15th FI. , N.Y. , N.Y. 10001 Fax #
212 929-5785 attention ED. Email:
nkolben@childcareinc.org.
Faith-based CDC seeks a highly-motivated,
HOMEOWNERSHIP COUNSELOR AND MARKET-
1NG COORDINATOR. Slhe will market and sell
newly constructed and newly renovated 2- to
4- family homes to moderate and middle
income applicants, assist in mortgage pre-
Qualification, conduct group training sessions
on topics such as financial readiness for
homeownership and mortgage products, and
participate in program and events intended
to reduce "predatory lending". Qualifica-
tions: BS/BA, 2+ years experience in home-
ownership counseling or sales; superior com-
munication skills; solid Quantitative and ana-
lytical skills, and Word and Excel proficiency.
Salary: commensurate with experience. For-
ward resume and cover letter: Bridge Street
Development Corporation, 266 Stuyvesant
Avenue, Brooklyn, New York 11221 Attn:
Homeownership Counselor Search Fax
(718)573-687. E-mail: plucius@bsdc.org.
Faith-based CDC seeks a highly-motivated,
assertive PROJECT MANAGER for low income
housing tax credit rehabilitation projects and
homeownership programs. Slhe will oversee
full development cycle including pre-develop-
ment financing, tenant relocation, construc-
tion, property management, and lease up or
sale. Qualifications: BSlBA, 3+ years experi-
ence managing complex projects with multiple
partners; real estate development expertise;
well-organized, self-starting, computer liter-
ate individual with excellent communication
skills. Competitive salary, commensurate with
experience. Forward resume and cover letter:
Bridge Street Development Corporation, 266
Stuyvesant Avenue, Brooklyn, New York
11221 Attn: Housing Project Manager Search
Fax:(718)5 7 3-687 4.E -m a i I: pi ucius@bsdc.org
The Low Income Housing Fund (LlHF), a
dynamic non-profit financial org. seeks a
PROGRAM COORDINATOR for our New York
Child Care Facilities Fund. Position is respon-
sible for creation of the New York Child Care
Facilities Fund, a proposed program of financ-
ing and technical assistance to expand child-
care services. Major responsibilities include:
creating a business plan, designing capital
and TA Programs; organizing the local adviso-
ry committee; marketing; and fund raising.
Bachelor'S degree required, preferably in a rel-
evant area of study such as early care and
education, business administration, or
finance. The position is located in our New York
office. Resume and cvr letter to: LlHF (Main
Office), 1330 Broadway, Suite 600, Oakland,
CA 94612, Attn: Herbert Partlow, or via e-mail:
hrlihf.org. EOE. No calls please.
EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR for Sister Outsider, a
radical leadership development non-profit in
East Flatbush and Brownsville, Brooklyn. We
are looking for an experienced fund raiser and
someone with the ability to train young women
of color(14-22 years old) to take overyour posi-
tion. Please have a track record in raising over
$300,000 annually, please have fiscal man-
agement experience, please understand and
practice harm reduction, please be highly
organized and motivated by a political world
view that wants to end poverty, and decrease
the likelihood that young women who have
been incarcerated will return to jail. We are an
organization run by and for young women of
color; you would be the only adult employed at
Sister Outsider in a position to pass on the
skills we need. $55,000-$60,000 full benefits.
Women of color who live in East Flatbush and
Brownsville strongly encouraged to apply.
Please send cover letter and resume to; Rachel
Pfeffer, 135 Eastern Parkway, apt. 10i, Brook-
lyn, NY 11226
URBAN ACTIVISTS. The Revson Fellows Pro-
gram offers one year of study at Columbia Uni-
versity to selected mid-career urban activists,
who receive free tuition and a
stipend of $18,000. To apply, go to
www.columbia.edu/cu/revson or call 212-280-
4023; the application deadline is February 1.
We take affirmation action toward equal
employment opportunity.
HOUSING CONSULTANTS (I AND II) The Housing
Resource Center is seeking housing placement
consultants to provide information about sup-
portive housing options and technical assis-
tance on the housing application process to
homeless individual s with mental illness and
their advocates. Other responsibilities include
training staff from agencies throughout NYC,
conducting site visits to supportive housing
CITY LIMITS
programs, resource development and advoca-
cy. Reqs: All applicants should have knowledge
of and experience in the mental health and
homelessness service systems; supportive
housing experience preferred. Excellent verbal
and written communication skills and comput-
er literacy. HCI requires: Bachelor degree with
four years relevant experience or Master
degree. HCII requires: Master degree and five
years or related work experience (i ncluding two
years post masters). Supervisory experience
preferred. Competitive salary and benefits.
Send cover letter and resume to Michael Hons-
by, CUCS, 120 Wall Street, 25th Floor, New York,
NY 10005. Fax: 212-635-2191. CUCS is com-
mitted to workforce diversity.
ADMINISTRATIVE ASSISTANT for a busy execu-
tive office. Must be a well organized self-
starter able to handle all administrative func-
tions. 4-5 years administrative experience,
able to multi-task. Lenox Hill Neighborhood
House, EOE. Fax resume to :Anne Townley, 212-
744-5150.
VOCATIONAL COUNSELORS Pn. Responsibil-
ities refer clients to internships and jobs
using vocational assessments and employ-
ment plans; monitor/document progress of
client; assist clients with transition to gain-
ful employment; facilitate employment sup-
port group for clients with Vocational Coordi-
nator. Requires: bachelors degree in social
work or related filed; experience in vocation-
al counseling and/or job development; expe-
rience running groups for clients with multi-
ple obstacles; excellent written/oral commu-
nication and interpersonal skills; flexible
work schedule is necessary; computer skills
a must. Union position with some benefits.
Fax resume: 212-288-0722. Attention: Voca-
tional Services Coordinator.
Bushwick Family Residence, a Salvation Army
lier II for homeless families, seeks a CASE
MANAGER. Experience with si milar population.
BA degree required. Send resume and cover
letter to: B. Burns 1675 Broadway, Brooklyn NY
11207. Fax: 718-574-2713.
SOCIAL WORKER CUCS Prince George support-
ive housing program is recruiting for a Social
Worker. Resp: Providing a full range of clinical
services to tenants, assisting in program plan-
ning, development, dependency, and services
to people living with HIVIAIDS. This position
works closely with the Clinical Coordinator to
ensure the effectiveness of the core services
team. Reqs: New grads and experienced clini-
cians encouraged to apply. MSW required; CSW
preferred with at least 2 years post-Masters
direct service experience with the populations
served by the program. All candidates must
have excellent outreach, assessment, written
and verbal communication skills; computer lit-
eracy required. Salary range for this position is
$37-40K; commensurate with experience and
education; full benefits. Send cover letter and
resume to Adina Blass, CUCSlThe Prince
George, 14 East 28th Street, New York, NY
10016. Fax 212-471-0765. CUCS is committed
to workforce diversity. EEO.
JANUARY 2002
CAPACITY BUILDING SPECIALIST. Serves as
contact to CDC-funded African American
CBO's requesting capacity building assis-
tance. Coordinate/implement needs assess-
ments, capacity building efforts, etc. Teach
behavioral science skills building course. Must
have 3 years experience in capacity building
efforts for CBO's, with demonstrated teach-
ing/training experience. BA req'd, MA pre-
ferred. Excellent strategic planning, organiza-
tional skills, knowledge of AIDS service delivery
systems req'd. Excellent oral/written communi-
cation skills, computer/software application
skills a must. Salary 40k-50k annually. Exten-
sive travel req'd. Send cover letter, resume &
salary requirements to ADAPTNOW@aol.com or
fax: ATTN: L. Reed, (718) 782-5591. Search
closed 12115/01. EOE.
PROGRAM DIRECTOR (search reopened) for
Travelers Hotel of Urban Pathways, Inc. 36 bed
coed DHS supported transitional residence in
limes Square. Experienced administrator
sought with clinical , budgeting, housing, HR,
and team building skills. Lead closeknit skilled
staff. MSW preferred with experience with
homeless, MI, MICA population. Send or fax
cover letter and resume to Urban Pathways.,
212-736-1388. No phone calls, please.
DIRECTOR. Outpatient Mental Health,
MSW/CSW, 5 years' clinical! administrative
experience. Provide overall supervision of Men-
tal Health Services, planning and program
development, statistical and other reports.
Coordinate service unit staff, oversee staff
training, chair case conferences. Competitive
salary, excellent benefits. Resume to The Edu-
cational Alliance, HR, 197 E. Broadway, NY NY
10002, fax 212 228-1178.
RESEARCH ASSISTANT. Community Resource
Exchange (CRE), New York City's premiere
technical assistance provider serving nonprof-
it organizations working on issues of poverty
and HIVIAIDS, is looking for a Research Assis-
tant to join its staff of 26. The Research Assis-
tant will provide support to the Deputy Director
in enhancing CRE's consulting practice and
managing CRE's Capacity Project, and to sup-
port the Director of Research and Evaluation in
developing and implementing CRE's evalua-
tion process. A full job description can be
found at www.crenyc.org. Interested individu-
als should e-mail a resume and cover letter to
searchcmte@crenyc.org.
SENIOR CONSULTANTS. Community Resource
Exchange (CRE) , New York City's premiere
technical assistance provider serving nonprof-
it organizations working on issues of poverty
and HIV/AIDS, is looking for senior conSUltants
to join its staff of 26. While CRE assists its
clients with all manner of management and
leadership issues, it is particularly seeking
individuals with experience in fund raising
strategy, organizational development and
process consulting, including strategic plan-
ning. A fuller job description can be found at
www.crenyc,org. Interested individuals should
e-mail resume and cover letter to
searchcmte@crenyc.org.
PROGRAM ASSOCIATE/INFORMATION &
REFERRAL Umbrella organization seeks social
worker with case management experience to
administer direct assistance and information
and referral services programs for needy indi-
viduals and families. Good assessment and
counseling skills, empathic assistance deliv-
ery, excellent record-keeping and clear phone
communication skills. Candidate must be an
independent thinker and possess good com-
puter abilities. Salary commensurate with
experience and excellent benefits package.
Letter with resume and salary history to Per-
sonnel , FPWA, 281 Park Avenue South, NYC,
10010, eguzman@fpwa.org
STAFF ATTORNEY. Legal and Advocacy Gay
Men's Health Crisis seeks Staff Attorney to pro-
vide legal services to clients in areas of hous-
ing law and family law from intake to case res-
olution, including litigation before Housing
Court and Family Court judges. Additionally,
the Staff Attorney will provide on site legal ser-
vices to clients of community based organiza-
tions and health care facilities. JD from
accredited law school and admission to the
New York State Bar is required. Proven experi-
ence with general legal practice including abil-
ity to do legal research, excellent writing abili-
ty, advocacy and negotiation skills needed.
Knowledge of HIV/AIDS and public
benefits/entitlements and bilingual
English/Spanish strongly preferred. Send
resume with cover letter that must include
salary requirement to GMHC, HR Dept., 119
West 24th Street, New York, NY 10011, or elec-
tronically to jobs@gmhc.org. GMHC values
diversity and is proud to be an equal opportu-
nity employer.
The National Police Accountability Project of
the National Lawyers Guild is looking for an
ADMINISTRATIVE CDORDINATDR on a perma-
nent basis for 15 hours per week. This is a
union position with pro-rated benefits. The
coordinator will manage basic administrative
duties: maintaining membership database;
handling routine correspondence; responding
to email , mail and telephone inquiries; light
bookkeeping and banking; maintaining mem-
bership of listserv and briefbank; some
updates to our website and maintenance of
CLE records. $15 per hour. Somewhat flexible
-hours. ANEOE employer, WOmen and minoritic3
encouraged to apply. www.nlg.org/npap Apply
to: Sarah Hogarth, NPAP, 666 Broadway, 7th
Floor, New York, NY 10012. Fax: 212-614-6499
email: policeproject@nlg.org. No telephone
inquiries please.
PROGRAM DIRECTOR. The Salvation Army
seeks an MSW to direct a Community Services
Program. Responsibilities include managing a
large and diverse social services program
throughout the 5 boroughs and Long Island.
Supervise social work field supervisors, moni -
tor budgets, plan special events and training
programs. Must have six years post MSW expe-
rience, supervisory and budget experience and
interest in working for a worthwhile Christian
cause. Salary $52,000, comprehensive bene-
fits, Drivers license required. Please fax
resume to Alfred Peck at 212 337-7279.
JOB ADS
PROGRAM OFFICER. Cash Flow Loan Program
The Fund for the City of New York seeks an indi-
vidual with strong communication and inter-
personal skills to assist to Director of the Cash
Flow Loan Program. Will be responsible for all
aspects of loan processing including inter-
viewing new applicants, processing and ana-
lyzing loan applications, preparing loan docu-
mentation and monthly reports. Qualified
applicants should possess some supervisory
experience; a BAIBS is preferred; excellent PC
skills; a general understanding of accounting
principles; strong knowledge and commitment
to NYC's nonprofit comm. and gov't contract-
ing process. The Fund offers a competitive
salary and excellent benefits. Submit cover let-
ter and resume to: FCNYlProgram Officer, CFL.
1216th Ave. , 6th FI. NYC 10013; Fax 212-590-
9599; Email: hr@fcny.org. For a complete job
description visit our website at
www.fcny.org/jobs.
Social Services. Housing/social services
provider seeks: TEAM LEADER. Ideal candidate
will need to lead an interdisciplinary team,
w/ability to coordinate three (3) Case Man-
agers w/ caseload of 63 clients, ensuring sup-
port services & weekly contacts are provided to
families. Ability to handle a fast paced & mul-
tiple tasked environment is desired. Superviso-
ry, case management & clinical experience
skills are required. Candidate will also manage
the electronic case record system for clients.
Requirements: MSW (preferred) or related
degree req'd. Computer literacy a must. Salary
starts in mid $30s. Resumes to: Tabitha
Newkirk-Gaffney, Di rector of Social Services,
fax: 718-485-5916. EOE. A drug free work-
place.
The Homelessness Intervention Program seeks
a CASE MANAGER. The position requires a
bachelor's degree with experience in advocacy,
entitlements, excellent writing, communication
and organizational skills. Bilingual
English/Spanish preferred. Fax credentials to
Maria Carballo at (718) 993-7950.
DIRECTOR OF DEVELOPMENT. Creates, devel-
ops and directs the implementation of a
dynamic, comprehensive and cohesive
fundraising strategy for the ACLU, working in
collahnration with staff, affiliates, board mem-
bers and lay leaders. Guiue3, manages "nrl
participates in efforts to identify. cultivate and
solicit sources of funds and gifts, including
major gifts, foundation/corporate grants,
direct mail, special events, endowment sup-
port, and gift planning. Send letter of interest
and resume to: S. Ashton, c/o ACLU Human
Resources, 125 Broad Street-18th Floor, NY, NY
10004.
The Enterprise Social Investment Corporation
(ESIC) is currently searching for a DEVELOP-
MENT DFFICER for our New York, NY office to
underwrite tax credit projects. This position
requires strong financial and analytical skills
and knowledge of the Low Income Housing Tax
Credit. Bachelor's degree in Finance or related
field required. Master's degree preferred. 3-4+
years experience in real estate development
35
JOB ADS
- PROFESSIONAL DIRECTORY-
Consultant Services
Proposals/Grant Writing
Hud Grants/Govt. RFPs
HousinglProgram Development
Real Estate Sales/Rentals
Technical Assistance
Employment Programs
Capacity Buildint;
MI(UA(L 6. BU((I
CONSULTANT
HOUSING, DEVELOPMENT & FUNDRAISING
Community Relations
PHONE: 212-765-7123
FAX: 212-397-6238
E-MAIL: mgbuccl@aol.com
451 WEST 48th STREET, SUITE 2E
NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10036-1298
36
Nesoff Associates
management solutions for non-profits
Providing a fuU range of management support services for non-
profit organizations
management development & strategic planning
board and staff development & training
program design, implementation & evaluation
proposal and report writing
Box 130 75A Lake Road' Congers, NY 10920' teUfax (914) 268-6315
Committed to the development of affordable housing
GEORGE C. DELLAPA, ATTORNEY AT LAW
15 Maiden Lane, Suite 1800
New York, NY 10038
212-732-2700 FAX: 212-732-2773
Low-income housing tax credit syndication.
Public and private
financing. HDFCs and not-for-profit corporations. Condos and co-ops. J-51
Tax abatementlexemptiom. Lendingfor historic properties.
NYSTAR.COM
Webmastering Service,
Web Design,
Free Acic:; Av",'iI;hl&>
rI ee Link Exchange.
http: //www.nystar.com
or email info@nystar.com.
SPECIALIZING IN REAL ESTATE
J-51 Tax Abatement/Exemption . 421A and 421B
Applications 501 (c) (3) Federal Tax Exemptions Ail forms
of government-assisted housing, including LISC/Enterprise,
Section 202, State Turnkey and NYC Partnership Homes
KOURAKOS & KOURAKOS
Attorneys at Law
Eastchester, N.Y.
Phone: (914) 3 9 ~ 7 1
required, preferably affordable housing. We
offer a competitive salary and excellent bene-
fits. Send resume with salary requirements to:
The Enterprise Social Investment Corporation,
Human Resources, 10227 Wincopin Circle, Ste.
800, Columbia, MD 21044. Fax: (410) 772-
2676; E-mail : jobopp@esic.org. An Equal
Opportunity Employer.
PRDPERlY MANAGER needed two screen and
interview applicants; conduct home visits,
move-in inspections; monitor vacancy reports
and accounts receivables for property; process
intake sheets, "3 Day Demand Notices to
Vacate"; monitor overall operations at site to
ensure health and safety issues, and address
violations; coordinate bid proposals for repairs
and building deficiencies; approve and sign-
off on invoice for repairs; implement rent-up
procedures, secure on-site all required docu-
mentation and collect rent from tenants;
process leases and renewal leases for rental
units. Qualifications: Minimum five years work
experience managing federally subsidized
property/and or rent stabilized, must be Certi-
fied Property Manager, strong knowledge of
computerized accounting systems and soft-
ware applications. Bachelor's Degree required.
Submit resumes to. J. Anglin, cia BSRC, 1368
Fulton Street, Brooklyn, NY 11216, fax: 718-
857-5984.
Brooklyn CDC seeks a DEVELDPMENT/CDMMU-
NICATIDNS DFFICER, with 5 years plus experi-
ence, to develop revenue streams including
corporate sponsorship, private/public grants,
and fund raising events. Duties include
prospect research and maintaining system for
recording and fulfilling donor renewals,
pledges, and planning special projects to cul-
tivate major donors. Drafts edits and reviews
donor correspondence, proposals and status
reports. Assists with press and public relations
strategies to market organizations' initiatives.
Competitive salary and benefits package. Sub-
mit cover letter and resume to Development
Officer job search clo J. Anglin, 1368 Fulton
Street, Brooklyn, NY 11216 or fax: 718-857-
5984.
SENIDR CASE MANAGER. Supportive Housing
B.A. required Join an exciting supportive hous-
ing program in midtown NYC, serving a mixed
population of residents including seniors, peo-
ple with HIV/AIDS, and low income working pro-
fessionals. Work with residents around assess-
ing needs, provide counseling & case manage-
ment, information and referral, advocacy, and
crisis intervention. Work as a team to help res-
idents maximize independent living skills and
negotiate accessing services. Verbal, written,
documentation, counseling & computer skills a
must. MINIMUM 4 years experience in social
services preferred. BA or BS required. Knowl-
edge of NYC benefits, HIVIAIDS, elderly popula-
tions, and Spanish a plus. Excellent pay & ben-
efits. Mail or Fax Resume to: Barry Siegel ,
Social Work Supervisor
The Aurora Residence, 475 West 57th St., 2nd
floor, NYC 10019, FAX: 212-489-1116 EOE
THE ACTORS' FUND OF AMERICA
ADMINISTRATIVE/EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT.
South Bronx Churches Morrisania Cluster
HDFC, Inc., a community based organization
that develops and creates affordable housing,
does community organizing and develops lead-
ers in the South Bronx is looking for an Admin-
istrative/Executive Assistant. Duties include:
Assisting the Executive Director, office man-
agement, events coordination, program coordi-
nation, relationship building, prepare monthly
newsletter, support community organizing
efforts and representing the organization
externally in the Executive Director's stead,
record minutes at Board meetings. Qualifica-
tions: Self-starter, excellent computer skills,
excellent communication skills orally and writ-
ten, Bi-Lingual (EnglishlSpanish), ability to
multi-task, work well with others and under
pressure, know how to have fun, B.A. Salary
based on experience. Fax Resume and writing
sample to Executive Director at (718) 901-
3178 or e-mail toSBCMC1@aol.com.NO
CAllS.
STAFF ATTDRNEY. Community-based, non-
profit housing advocacy organization seeks
self starter Staff Attorney to represent low
income tenants & tenant associations and pro-
vide general housing rights counseling. Span-
ish a plus. Salary: low-30's DOE. Excellent ben-
efits. Send resume and cover letter to Sarah
Desmond, Executive Director, Housing Conser-
vation Coordinators, 500 West 52nd Street,
New York, NY 10019.
GUARDIAN DF LlBERlY CDDRDlNATDR. Mem-
bership Department Sorting and opening mail;
cashiering and making deposits; maintaining
database; produce monthly billings; member
services; coordinate credit card program.
Excel, Word and database; strong analytic,
oral , and written communication skills; cus-
tomer or member service experience helpful.
Minimum salary: $25,537. Send resume and
letter of interest to: Human Resources, ACLU-
DEPT-GOl-ASST, 125 Broad Street-18th Floor,
NY, NY 10004.
HDLlSTlC CDNSULTANT or MDTIVATIDNAL
TRAINER wanted to present workshops and
seminars to inner city agencies on a per diem
basis. Contact S. Johnson 212-927-4528.
Demos, a new public policy organization, seeks
a DlRECTDR DF CDMMUNICATIDNS. This per-
son wi ll develop Demos' communications
strategy and manage our communications
activities. Candidates should have a strong
track record in the communications field and
command of the public policy issues core to
Demos' work. This position is full time on site,
available 11/1. Salary is competitive with non-
profit positions in New York City. Please send a
resume (with salary requirements) and a writ-
ing sample to Demos, cia Attention: Communi-
cations Opening. Fax to: 212-633-2015.
BI-LiNGUAL CAREER CDUNSELDR. Fluent in
Spanish. Masters Degree. 2-years of counsel-
ing experience, working with adult learners,
low income adults andlor PA recipients. Ability
to conduct job readiness worksops & vocation-
al assessments. Some evening & Sat hours
required. Salary $35-40 year. Fax or mail
resume & cover letter to 718-609-2077 or e
mail Rboddie@lagcc.cuny.edu
CITY LIMITS
DIRECTOR OF PROPERTY AND ASSET MANAGE-
MENT and SALES & MARKETING COORDINATOR
Housing Works, Inc., a leading AIDS advocacy
organization, has two openings in its newly
launched property management company. 1.
Director of Property and Asset Management,
Responsibilities: Oversee Housing Work's cur-
rent portfolio of 95 units of supportive housing
and the development and management of 70
additional units in the coming year, increase
the number of residential units for people with
AIDS and HIV. Expand this new initiative to
include management of buildings in proximity
to Housing Works' buildings and programs.
Qualifications: Five to eight years of property
management and supervisory experience. BA
required, MA in related field preferred. Proven
track record in quality management and port-
folio growth. Knowledge of building systems.
Facility with computerized property manage-
ment systems. Demonstrated commitment to
supportive and affordable housing. High ener-
gy. Strong people skills and multi-task man-
agement. 2. Sales and Marketing Coordinator,
Responsibilities: Together with the director,
develop and implement a comprehensive out-
reach program that will substantially expand
the Housing Works management portfolio with-
in two years of operation. Qualifications:
Strong background in non-profit and/or for-
profit housing management. BA. Marketing
experience. Knowledge of NYC neighborhoods.
High level of energy and organization. Excellent
computer and people skills. Spanish a plus.
Salaries: Competitive, good benefits plus per-
formance bonuses. Fax resumes to: Human
Resources at 212-220-3799. Designate Posi-
tion.
Community based Family literacy Program
seeks FIT COORDINATORISOCIAL WORKER to
provide program/staff development and sup-
portive services to immigrant families. MSW or
Master's in related field + supervisory exp,
bilingual Spanish or Cantonese required. Fax:
718-491-5060.
Community Mental Health Clinic seeks a full-
time SOCIAL WORKER with experience in pro-
viding individual , group and family therapy.
Minimum of an advanced degree in social work
(MSW) and CSW required. Two years of clinical
experience preferred with knowledge of short
term therapy and familiarity with managed
care. Bilingual English/Spanish required. Send
resume and cover letter to: Del Carmen Cuth-
bert, University Settlement, 184 Eldridge Street
New York, NY 10002 or Fax: (212) 260-1560.
The Citizens Advice Bureau (CAB) is a large,
multi-service non-profit serving the Bronx for
more than 25 years. The agency provides a
broad range of individual and family services,
including walk-in assistance and counseling,
services to special-need populations, such as
immigrants, children, adolescents, seniors,
homeless families and singles, individuals and
families affected by HIVIAIDS. CAB provides
excellent benefits and offers opportunities for
advancement. Resumes and cover letters indi-
cating position may be mailed to 2054 Morris
Ave. Bronx, NY 10453, or faxed as directed. The
Positive living/Harm Reduction Program seeks
a PROGRAM SPECIALIST. The position requires
HS/GED and college credits. Knowledge of
JANUARY 2002
HIVlAids and substance abuse is a plus. Bilin-
gual EnglSpan preferred. Fax cover letter &
resume to Laura V. at (718) 716-1065. The Nel-
son Avenue Family Residence is seeking a full-
time TEACHER to work in a shelter for homeless
families. The position requires a bachelor's
degree in early childhood education or related
field with a minimum of 1 year experience
working in child care setting. Fax cover letter &
resume to Dana Y. (718) 299-1682. CAB is an
equal opportunity /affirmative action employer.
University Settlement seeks a Home Base
CRISIS INTERVENTION COORDINATOR to over-
see a HBCI program serving children and ado-
lescents with serious emotional needs. The
HBCI program's goal is to stabilize clients at
risk of psychiatric hospitalization and assist
them in gaining access to needed mental
health, medical, educational, social , recre-
ational and other services. Qualifications: MSW
and four years experience providing mental
health services, including supervisory or man-
agerial responsibilities. Bi-lingual in Chinese
or Spanish preferred. Visit our website at
www.universitysettlement.org for a full job
description. Send resume and cover letter to:
Michael Fagan, University Settlement, 184
Eldridge Street, New York, NY 10002 or Fax:
212-864-2350.
Health Force: Community Preventive Health
Institute seeks a SR. COORDINATOR for its out-
standing, grassroots HIV Prevention initiative
to train peer educators to effectively deliver
specially designed prevention curricula to tar-
geted populations. Qualifications: At least 5
years including supervisory experience in com-
munity Health training and education. B.A.
minium, Masters preferred. Competitive salary
and outstanding CUNY benefits. Send/Fax
resume to Doris Casella, Director Health Force:
Community Preventive Institute, 552 Southern
Boulevard, Bronx, NY 10455 - FAX 718-585-
5041.
The Center for Urban Community Services, Inc.
(CUCS) a growing not-for-profit organization is
recruiting for the following positions. This posi-
tion is available at the limes Square Program,
a permanent supportive housing residence for
650 low-income tenants, many of whom have
a history of mental illness, homelessness, sub-
stance abuse and/or HI VIAIDS located in mid-
town Manhattan. SOCIAL WORK CLINICIAN-
This position functions as part of a core ser-
vices team which provides a full range of direct
services to recipients. Additionally, this indi-
vidual will provide professional expertise in the
areas of program, resource and staff develop-
ment necessitating a thorough clinical under-
standing of homelessness, mental illness,
substance abuse, etc. This position may super-
vise a limited number of individual staff mem-
bers or students as assigned by the clinical
coordinator. Reqs; CSW; 2 years of applicable
post-masters degree direct service experience
with populations served by the program; 2
years of applicable pre-masters degree experi-
ence may be substituted for no more than 1
year of post-masters experience. Salary:
$40,123 + comp benefits. Send cover letter
and resume by ASAP to Frozena Concepcion,
CUCSllimes Square, 255 West 43rd street,
New York, NY 10036. CUCS is committed to
JOB ADS
- PROFESSIONAL DIRECTORY-
MICHAEL DAVIDSON
Consultant in Nonprofit Management
MANAGEMENT SUPPORT & ASSESSMENT
BOARD DEVELOPMENT & TRAINING
STRATEGIC PLANNING
INTERIM MANAGEMENT ASSIGNMENTS
Hands-on solutions to help
nonprofit organizations achieve their vision
Tel: (212) 662-1758, 523 West 121 St., NY, NY 10027,
Fax: (212) 662-5861, midavidson@aol.com
NEED OFFICE SPACE?
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The Not-for-Profit Speci ali sts
Li censed Brokers - Leasi ng or Purchasi ng - All Boroughs
No Fees or Charges
Contact Vi nce Marrone at 212-644-3397,
or at vnmar@at tglobal. net
you can count on us
non-profit bookkeepers
866 422 5302 (toll-free)
non-profit financial pros who specialize in
QuickBooks solutions for small non-profits
Hand Mailing Services
Henry Street Settlement Mailing services is a revenue
generating, work-readiness program offering battered women and
shelter base families on the job and life skills training.
We offer hand inserting, live stamp afftxing, bulk mail, folding,
collating, labeling, water sealing and more.
For more information please call Bob Modica,
212-505-7307
OFFICE SPACE PROBLEMS?
IW.W
CSI
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(845) 566 1267
Expert Real Estate Services - once
available only to major corporations and
institutions -
Now offered to NYC's Non-Profits .
at no out-of-pocket cost,
or at specially reduced rates.
Visit our web site: www.npspace.com
Call for a free, no-obligation consultation.
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37
38
I LLUSTRATED MEMOS
OmCEOFTHECIlYVISIONARY
:

There are more cars than
ever clogging city streets and
not enough trains running
underground.
PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION
PRIVATIZATION PLAN NO. 4561923
If we can't get drivers out
of their automobiles and into
more subway seats, why not
do the next best thing?
GOT AN IMPRACTICAL SOLUTION
TO AN INTRACTABLE PROBLEM?
SEND IN Y(lJJ[Rl
OFFICE OF THE CITY VISIONARY
CITY LIMITS MAGAZINE
12.0 WALL ST., 20
TH
FLOOR. NY NY 10005
ootcv@ citylimlts.
CITY LIMITS
workforce diversity.
FUND RAISER. The Supportive Housing Network
of New York, a dynamic, statewide coalition of
providers of supportive housing, seeks experi-
enced professional to build a diversified fund-
ing strategy, research and write foundation
and corporate proposal s and government
grants, manage special events, and develop
plan for individual giving. Knowledge of hous-
ing and homeless arena helpful. Send cover
letter with resume and salary requirements to
K. Halas, The Supportive Housing Network of
New York, 475 Riverside Dr, Suite 250, New
York, NY, 10115. Fax to (212) 870-3334.
ABE, ESt, COMPUTER LITERACY INSTRUCTORS
needed. Develop and conduct classes for
adults in several locations in Manhattan. Full
time and part time positions are available for
classes running days, evenings to 7:00 and
Saturday mornings. Case Manager, MIS Clerk
also needed. Experience with welfare to work
programs a plus. Fax resumes to C. Benes at
212-967-2735.
NATIONAL URBANIRURAL FELLOWS, an MPA
degree program, offers a nine-month mentor-
ship and two academic semesters at Baruch
College to post baccalaureate, mid-career pro-
fessionals with strong public policy back-
grounds, significant work and community
experience. FELLOWS receive fully-paid
tuition, travel reimbursement, book allowance
and stipend. Please e-mail
abbytorres@nuf.org, or call (212) 349-6200
for an application. Application deadline is
February 8, 2002. Please mention this ad in
your request.
BSPCC seeks a confident, self-motivated,
BILINGUAL (SPANISH) BSW individual BSWor
BAIBS in Human Services. Full time position.
Must be available to work evenings and week-
ends. strong writing skills and computer liter-
acy are necessary. Fax resumes to: Sandra
Lloyd at 718-398-2940.
The Citizens Advice Bureau (CAB) is a large,
multi-service non-profit serving the Bronx for
more than 25 years. The agency provides a
broad range of individual and family services,
including walk-in assistance and counseling,
services to special-need populations, such as
immigrants, children, adolescents, seniors,
homeless families and singles, individuals and
families affected by HIV/AIDS. CAB provides
excellent benefits and offers opportunities for
advancement. Resumes and cover letters indi-
cating position may be mailed to 2054 Morris
Ave. Bronx, NY 10453, or faxed as directed. The
Nelson Avenue Family Residence is seeking a
CASE MANAGER to work in a shelter for home-
less families. The position requires a bache-
lor's degree with experience in entitlements,
advocacy and communication. Duties include
assisting families with entitlements, conflict
resolution, educational/employment issues &
housing readiness. Fax resume and cover let-
ter to E. Neira at (718) 299-1682. The Positive
Living Program is seeking an EDUCATION SPE-
CIALIST to provide HIV education workshops
and coordinate outreach. BA in Public Health or
related field required, HIV experience and bilin-
gual Spanish preferred. Competitive salary
and benefits. Inquire within by faxing your
resume with cover letter to K. Iqbal at 718-
716-1065. CAB is an equal opportunity /affir-
mative action employer.
ASSISTANT SAFETY MONITOR SUPERVISOR
Assist in the supervision of the Safety Monitors
ensuring enforcement of policies, procedures &
rules/regulations. Address resident complaints
& grievances, & document & record individual
staff problems. Provide night and weekend
coverage as needed. HS diploma is required.
Associate degree preferred. Three years experi-
ence in security related field, demonstrated
ability to supervise staff, valid US drivers
license & valid security license required. Salary
low $20's. SAFETY MONITOR Ensure enforce-
ment of policies, procedures, and rules/regula-
tions. Address resident complaints & griev-
ances, and document and record individual
staff problems. Provide night & weekend cov-
erage as needed. HS diploma is required. Asso-
ciate degree preferred. Three years experience
JOB ADS
in security related field, valid US drivers
license & valid security license required. Salary
high teens. Send resume, indicating position of
interest, to: Delores Johnson, Safety Director,
WestHelp Greenburgh, 1 WestHelp Drive, White
Plains, NY 10603. Fax: 914-683-1086. EOE. A
drug free workplace.
CRISIS COUNSELOR (MSW preferred) commit-
ted to work with homeless families and single
adults in shelters and soup kitchens. Experi -
ence with homeless and/or HIV + clients and
intra-city travel required. Send resume to:
Care for the Homeless, 12 West 21st Street,
New York, NY 10010. SUBSTANCE ABUSE
COUNSELOR (CASAC preferred) to work with
homeless families and single adults in shel-
ters and soup kitchens. Experience with home-
less and/or HIV positive clients and intra-city
travel required. Send resumes to: Care for the
Homeless, 12 West 21st Street, New York, NY
10010.
East New York Farms! seeks an URBAN AGRI-
CULTURE COORDINATOR and YOUTH WORKER
to organize and assist participants in econom-
ic and community development program in
East Brooklyn. BAIBS plus work experience in
appropriate field, excellent communication
skills, previous agricultural , food and/or youth
work desired. Send/fax letter & resume to Mel
Grizer, United Community Centers, 613 New
Lots Avenue, Brooklyn 11207, (718)649-7256.
Reach 20,000 readers in the nonprofit sector.
JANUARY 2002
Advertise In CITY LIMITS
Call Anita Gutierrez at (212) 479-3345
LET US DO A FREE EVALUATION
OF YOUR INSURANCE NEEDS
We have been providing low-cost insuraRce programs and
quality service for HDFCs, TENANTS, COMMUNITY MANAGEMENT
and other NONPROFIT organizations for over 15 years.
We Offer:
SPECIAL BUILDING PACKAGES.
FIRE UABIUTY BONDS
DIRECTOR'S & OFFICERS' UABILTY
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"Tailored Payment Plans"
ASHKAR CORPORATION
146 West 29th Street, 12th Floor, New York, NY 10001
(212) 279-8300 FAX 714-2161 Ask for : Bolo Ramanathan
39
oYes, I would like to be put on the Center's mailing list.
Name:
Title:
Organization:
Address:
City/State:
Fax Number:
Zip:
E-mail:
Please check your interests below:
oEconomic Development & Planning
oWorkforce Development & Higher Education
oChild Welfare & Social Services
oYes, I would like to order back reports.
Please indicate which reports you would like on the order sheet below.
Economic Development:
oGoing on with the Show: Arts & Culture in New York City after September 11 Nov. 2001
oUnder the Mattress: Why NYC's Jobs System Remains a Work in Progress Nov. 2001
oSudden Impact: Many of New York City's Vital Sectors Seriously Affected by September 11 Attack Oct. 2001
oThe Future of the TechSavvy City: How New York and Other Cities Can Continue to Grow Into High-Tech Hubs Oct. 2001
oPayoffs for Layoffs: Designed to Save Jobs, NewYork City's Corporate Retention Deals Often Result in Job Cuts Feb. 2001
oOn a Wing and a Prayer: Highway Gridlock, Antiquated Cargo Facilities Keep New York's Airports Grounded Oct. 2000
oThe Empire Has No Clothes: Rising Real Estate Prices and Declining City Support Threatens the Future of
New York's Apparel Industry Feb. 2000
oThe Sector Solution: Building a Broader Base for the New Economy Jan. 2000
oBiotechnology: The Industry That Got Away Oct. 1999
oThe Big Squeeze: How Rising Rents and the Real Estate Crunch are Forcing Small Businesses Out of New York May 1999
OWhy New York Needs a New Jobs Policy Dec. 1998
Workforce Development and Higher Education:
oBuilding a Highway to Higher Ed: How Collaborative Efforts are Changing Education in America June 2001
oThe Workforce Challenge: To Place is to Win May 2001
oThe Skills Crisis: Building a Jobs System that Works Aug. 2000
oPutting CUNY to Work: CUNY's Job Training and Business Partnership Programs June 1999
Social Services:
oUnfinished Business: Analyzing NYC's Foster Care Reforms Winter 2001
oToo Fast for Families: Washington's Get-Tough Adoption Law Hits Home Winter 2000
oPlaying By the Numbers: New York's Latest Foster Care Fix Summer 1999
oFamilies in Limbo: Crisis in Family Court Winter 1999
oRace, Bias & Power in Child Welfare Spring/Summer 1998
oRestoring the Community Connection Winter 1997
oAn Agenda for Change Spring 1997
oNeighborhood Justice: A Community Response to Juvenile Crime January 1997
Centerfor an
F
Utroan
u ure