Harlem and Avenue Q

This trip to the Big Shmapple, The Great Plotnik and The Great Ducknik appear to be hanging out north of the tourists. Today's walk through Morningside Heights, the Mt. Morris Historical District, Marcus Garvey Park and upper Lenox Avenue, all in Harlem, was eye-opening. And forget about all those fried chicken tastings in Saint Plotniko -- the winner by far is Aunt Maudie's on 137th and Lenox. This photo doesn't come close to conveying just how yummmmy that fat bird is, and that's saying nothing about the candied yams and collards.



When Plot and Duck lived in the Shmap, they came occasionally to the Apollo Theater, but that was about it for Harlem. The word was out then -- don't. They hate you. They'll rob you. All that crap that starts with the word 'they.'

It may or may not have been crap then, but it sure would be now. Huge, European-style wide boulevards, a thriving culture and housing that can match any in any district of the City, no matter how tony, Harlem is probably bound to be substantially gentrified within a generation.

And why not? Who wouldn't want to live up here? And what will happen to the folks who do live here now and who will no longer be able to afford the new rentals? Well, probably the same thing that happened in Saint Plotniko -- they'll move to Oakland. Up here, that's called The Bronx.

Can't argue the gentrification issue. It's too complex. And it's gonna happen. The question becomes: what does it all mean? The Great Plotnik really doesn't know.

He remembers getting robbed in his taxicab once, at 3AM, by a gang of maybe a dozen kids, not one of whom was older than fourteen, while driving down 118th Street to take four ladies home. The taxi dispatcher had told him to never go to Harlem, but it didn't seem fair to Plottie then. After this event though, and another in East New York and another in Williamsburg, all marginal areas, he learned to do what the other cabbies all did: stay away. That's why black people have a hell of a time getting cabs because the cabs probably still aren't willing to take the chance of getting robbed. Plottie didn't like feeling that way -- but he didn't like getting robbed either.

Today he and Duck walked down that same street and the trees are green, the facades of the homes proud and well maintained, the faces on the street smile in all colors and there probably are not patrols of fourteen-year-olds looking for marks in the middle of the night.

Or maybe there are. It sure looks fine during the day, anyway.



Yesterday's trip to Ellis Island was quite moving, but tiring. Many Plotniks came through this disembarcation point at the end of the 18th and beginning of the 19th Centuries and it was fascinating to see what they all faced. In the end, if you had enough money to buy a first or second class ticket you got to miss Ellis Island -- they just let you straight into the country with a big fat welcome. But if you were poor and came in steerage, the cheapest passage, like most did, you got sent on a ferry to Ellis Island for your 6-second medical check, and if you failed, you were sent back home. Six seconds was it -- most of it checking for trachoma -- a disease of the eye. If you passed that test they decided if you were insane or not before granting you an official entrance.

Last night Mummy Plotnik paid for a b'day present for both Duck and BZWZ, and that was tickets to see Avenue Q. It's quite a brilliant show, especially in concept. You leave singing and smiling and that's still the way it's supposed to be. A feast for the eye -- though a bit more plot would have suited Plotnik better. The best part was that two kids doing their Broadway debuts absolutely stole the show. That's always great to see.