Bowery Bums

What motivates people to drink themselves into unconsciousness and then call it "fun"? And what about the next day's responsibilities?
October 26, 1999

I was walking through the library late yesterday when a book cover caught my eye. The black and white cover art featured a close-up of a face, the image of tragedy filling its space with text reversed out that you just wanted to read. The book, titled The Bowery, is primarily a collection of photographs, images of life in this somewhat pathetic corner of the world.

"You must learn the art. The art of staying alive. The art of staying alive and staying drunk..."

In 1964 my family moved from Cleveland, Ohio to Bridgewater, NJ. I remember well the trips into New York for various purposes at different stages of my young life... to see the Yankees or Mets, or the World's Fair countless times. (The Fair was a two year event in 1964-65.) But sometimes just to see The City.

I was twelve, the oldest of four boys, and I remember driving slowly through the Bowery, seemingly at a crawl. Scattered about on the sidewalk were bodies of ragged men, like litter, passed out, some lying with bottles still in their hands, some lying in their urine, or leaning against the wall of a building, dazed.

I remember Dad making a comment which now escapes me, but which carried the effect of saying, "Wherever you go in life or whatever you do, you do not want to end up here like these men." I have never forgotten that moment.