Tag Archives: newark

Newark Night Patrol W/Cory Booker

The story is not unique to Newark, all over the United States there are cities that are struggling. But what is unique is how citizens of Newark respond. Led by Newark Mayor Cory Booker, a man who loves his gadgets and social networking, groups of volunteers from all walks of life ride the streets of the city in packs of caravans, looking around to see what is going on, who needs help, and what doesn’t look right.  In cooperation with the police and department of public safety, the objective is to stem the violence, reduce crime, and show residents that people do care.  As the mayor himself said to me, it is also a chance for people from different backgrounds, races, religion, geographic locations, you name it – to meet each other and engage in this community activity together.

In this podcast I take you along on a night patrol with pack #2. Along the way you’ll hear stories, some serious, some not so serious, but each from a different volunteer with a unique connection to the city of Newark.  You will also hear from Cory himself, as he prepares us all before we hit the streets, and later on when he and I had a chance to talk about this initiative and how it has been received by the city.

bm274 The Ironbound Through My Father’s Eyes

My father Alfredo Rendeiro joins me to talk about Newark, the Ironbound, since the late 1960’s when he first arrived from Portugal.

Abandoned US

Sitting in my cousin Dan’s car driving through some lovely central Connecticut landscape, he points to something huge coming up on the right side of the car. “Look back there, you’ll see a huge building!”? Just beyond the trees that line the two lane road, I see what looks like a brand new shopping mall. Only with a second glance do I notice that the futuristic structure is surrounded by overgrown weeds and unfinished parking lots.? Looking in the building itself, you can see it is completely empty. “That was going to be a headquarters for one of the big mortgage lenders, until they went under” he told me.? In their wake these mortgage lenders have of course laid off many people, and as an enormous reminder of their recklessness, giant never used buildings dot our landscapes.

Driving through the different sections of Newark, I notice the familiar buildings that lay empty, “FOR RENT” and “SPACE AVAILABLE” signs that have turned yellow after sitting in the window for more than a decade. Housing projects, which were never paradise by any means, lay abandoned and boarded up… I’m reminded of my visit to New Orleans, and the fenced off condemned housing projects there.? One block further up on Muhammed Ali Boulevard I slow down the car as I scan a vast open construction project, what looks like a huge amount of low income housing being constructed. A few blocks away, more abandoned store fronts.

Scanning the feed from the Portuguese newspaper “O Publico” I see the headline about a German toy company that once based its factory in Portugal and moved to China in the late 90’s.? The story was about their return to Portugal due to the high costs of fuel and transport of their goods from China.? Being once again based in Portugal now seems more economically sound for this company, which means new jobs… or perhaps.. the return of old jobs to some community.

Abandoned buildings have long been a fact of life in much of the United States, especially in Newark.? As I thought back to them, reading this story about Portugal, I began to daydream about a scenario where factories and businesses that were once based in Newark returned. Picturing the abandoned buildings, long considered an eye sore, being now seen as valuable space to set up shop.? How happy the people in the new houses and the old houses alike might be. A real renaissance for places long forgotten. Or perhaps some people and places not so long ago left behind and abandoned.

Followup On Newark

In keeping with the issue of what is happening in the city of my birth and childhood, I noticed Ken over at the DailyNewarker has just posted an interesting podcast.  It is an interview with someone who works for the Ironbound Community Corporation, the Ironbound being my community.

During the interview Ken builds on what we talked about in our podcast together, just before they closed St. James hospital, about the impact of closing medical facilities on a community.

For my part I will continue to track the closing of hospitals in not only Newark but anywhere in the US or the world.  For now, click over to the Daily Newarker if you want to hear more details about what is happening around the issue of community hospitals and financial constraints.

On a slightly related note, I thought to also mention that for the first time in my lifetime, there will be no Portuguese parade in Newark this summer.  Why? -No money.

Scarring a Community

I have a scar on my forehead.

The year was probably 1986 and a large object fell into my forehead.

Like any ironbound (newark) mother would, my mother carried me to the car and sped to St. James hospital for treatment.

I have a bellybutton. (an innie in fact)

The year was 1979 and my mother gave birth to me on a December afternoon.

Like so many ironbound children born of immigrant families from every corner of the planet, I came into the world in the maternity ward of St. James hospital. A hospital so dedicated to serving the multilingual community, it functioned in English, Portuguese, and Spanish.

While our family grew older and settled in the suburbs outside the city, St. James never stopped being that place… whenever I would go down Jefferson St., that steadfast anchor that commanded the respect and appreciation of the community.

Last week, in the face of all the hard work of volunteers, hospital staff, and concerned citizens, the corporation that owns St. James -closed it down. Cost savings. Business decisions. We regret to inform you…

The collapse of the United States, as a nation made for and by the people continues, and one more working class community has one more giant scar to prove it.

Portuguese in Vietnam

As I sit down to lunch with my parents at a beachside resort famous for having a huge population that immigrated to Newark, New Jersey, the waitress walks over with a bottle of wine. “This one is compliments of the gentlemen sitting in the back of the restaurant.”

My dad is already smiling as he looks across the very basic and typical Portuguese establishment, he starts talking and suddenly I realize he’s talking to me as he looks at the man “Don’t you recognize M? Mr. M who has the so and so business in Newark?” I turned to look at a familiar yet unfamiliar face.. already coming my way with a hand extended. He sat down next to me and immediately began going over all the old Newark stories that he remembers involving my parents, going all the way back to 1960.

Of all the stories he told at the lunch table, one in particular kept coming back and stuck out in my mind. His time in Vietnam. As he showed me scars all over his body, from bullet and grenade wounds, he spoke about his Portuguese friends who had grown up with him, immigrated, and died in the jungle. My dad followed each name, seemingly going through his own list of which Portuguese neighbor who he knew from grade school in Portugal that had wound up serving in the US military and dying in Vietnam.

As he spoke about the day he was ambushed, and the coma that followed, and all the people who thought he was dead… he would occasionally come back to the present, talking about all the young kids and immigrants serving in Iraq. “We had kids with us back then, but they were surrounded by adults, people who could take care of them and teach them… not like how they send them out today.”

Seemed like hours that he spoke, story after story.. and I kept thinking about all those immigrants.. Portuguese people who hadn’t been in the country for more than 5 years, and how they ended up – of all places – in Vietnam.

I sat and listened to Mr. M’s stories well after lunch was over. Sad as it may have seemed, there was a tone of quiet satisfaction…. to have lived a full life since then and to be able to remember each person and tell about them.