Pat Robertson in the Late 1970s - What a Loon!

Hey, this twit wasn't a New Yorker, although he did briefly pastor a church in Bed Stuy. But Pat Robertson's TV show "The 700 Club" was broadcast in our town every weekday. It showed Marion Gordon Robertson at his wacky best. And to think that this psycho has the President's ear!

Robertson's show was something like a religious "Tonight Show." His theme music even sounded like that of Johnny Carson's program. Most of the stuff was pretty mundane.

BUT - there were the times that God talked to Pat while he was on the air. Every show would feature a section in which Robertson prayed for people who had sent in their needs - often serious medical conditions. At some point, Robertson would get what he called a "Word of Knowledge."

"Right now, somebody's being cured of cancer. The Lord's healing a headache..."

Of course, in most areas the "700 Club" was broadcast from videotape, at different times in different markets. So, not only was Pat gifted with the power to know that people were healed, but he could do it into the future.

Folks, as I have said in my other blog, NYC is a cynical town, and we have little patience for self-righteous Holy Joes. It's hard for us to believe, but there are sections of our country where guys like this are taken seriously! Hey, maybe the yokels are right. We do think we're smarter than a lot of other people. Because we are!

Liberated by the Tramway!

For most of us, the Tram is sort of an amusement park ride for adults, offering a thrilling ride over the East River for only a swipe of a Metrocard. But for many disabled New Yorkers, it represented a shot at independence.

The Roosevelt Island Tramway opened in 1976 as a "temporary" means of transportation for the new residents of Zip Code 10044 while the TA completed work on the new RI station in the 63 Street Tunnel. In typical TA fashion, the station, which Island residents largely opposed, fearing it would destroy the character of the place, was years behind schedule, and even when it did open many preferred the brief, scenic ride that the Tramway provided.

The Tramway opened shortly after the first modern apartments on RI opened. Before then, just about the only reason most of us would have to go there was to visit somebody in one of the two large chronic-care hospitals that the City maintained: Goldwater (at the south end) and Coler (at the north). In 1975 I went there just for that purpose, having befriended several residents of these institutions while working at a camp for disabled adults. Getting to RI involved taking a bus from Queensboro Plaza, then (as now) a seedy collection of fast food joints and run-down office buildings, plus the ugliest parking garage in the Western Hemisphere. The bus wound its way through Astoria before crossing the bridge onto the Island, where it stopped at both hospitals.

Bird S. Coler hospital was clearly the more depressing of the two institutions. At the time there was little housing for folks with severe disabilities, and many ended up in places like this. It was drab and quite sad. Many of the residents spent their days assembling hair curlers in a "sheltered workshop" for a few cents an hour. Still, patients did have the option of going outside and enjoying the beautiful views of the East River.

Goldwater was (and still is) huge - almost a city unto itself, with multiple buildings connected by long corridors. It was much more cheerful than Coler, and the patients I spoke with were more satisfied with the care and recreational activities offered there.

Every resident I spoke with was excited about the soon-to-open Tramway. As one guy put it, "You can get a day pass, hop over to Manhattan and buy a bottle." Just as important to them was the construction of new housing on the Island, all of which was accessible to people using wheelchairs. Many residents of the institutions would go on to get apartments there, where they could assume a level of independence few would even dream of a few years before. Indeed, whatever one might think of the aesthetics of the new developments, they were designed for accessibility at a time when getting a wheelchair around most of the town was a pretty trying experience. (I know; my pal Paco used a wheelchair, and we had a hellova time getting into bars and movies). Even the shuttle busses owned by the new Roosevelt Island Operating Authority were wheelchair-friendly. This was many years before the TA got its act together with lifts on busses, and the low-riding RIOC vehicles where still much more practical for both wheelchair users and those who simply had trouble climbing steps.

every time I do a tour of Roosevelt Island people comment on the large number of people moving about on Main Street in wheelchairs. For many of these folks, the Tramway and the new apartment complexes were their first taste of real independence.

Back to the Cities- "Brownstoning"

Most of the 70s was not a happy time for America's major cities - NYC included. There was a general sense amongst many residents and the alleged experts that the era of the big urban center was ending. The suburbs and smaller "satellite cities" were where those who could afford to leave town were headed - away from the crime, poor schools, etc.

But a few visionary homeowners had other ideas. They recognized the greatness of New York, and the beauty of its housing stock - especially brownstones. As my Brooklyn tour guests will recall, brownstone is essentially sandstone with a large iron ore content that gives the material its rich, typically chocolate-brown shade. thousands of row houses fronted with this material were constructed by the new urban middle class during the 19th Century, most notably in parts of Manhattan and the older sections of Brooklyn. Although many brownstones had been neglected or abandoned in the post-World War II era, these were still magnificent structures with a character you won't often find in a suburban development. In addition, the Brownstone communities were typically close to Manhattan and often possessed a certain bohemian feel. If you were willing to put in a little "sweat equity" you could get a great deal on one - if you could find a bank which would give you a loan.

"Redlining" was the term used to describe a form of discrimination in which lenders (and sometimes insurers) would simply refuse to do business in a certain geographical area. And many of the early pioneers of the "brownstoning" movement, as it was called, encountered great difficulty in securing mortgages and homeowners insurance, despite their good credit and stable incomes. Eventually both government pressure and a recognition that you can't just rule out customers based upon their Zip Codes caused the banks and insurers to change their tone. It was clear that brownstoning was not just a fad, and that brownstone owners were good for the economy. An early advocate for brownstoners was Brooklyn Union Gas (now Keyspan) which sponsored home shows and a series of "Cinderella Projects" where they renovated highly-visible structures on run-down blocks. It made good business sense, and was great PR.

Brownstoning helped to revitalize many Brooklyn areas, including Cobble Hill, Boerum Hill, Park Slope and Fort Greene.

Back to the Cities- "Brownstoning"

Most of the 70s was not a happy time for America's major cities - NYC included. There was a general sense amongst many residents and the alleged experts that the era of the big urban center was ending. The suburbs and smaller "satellite cities" were where those who could afford to leave town were headed - away from the crime, poor schools, etc.

But a few visionary homeowners had other ideas. They recognized the greatness of New York, and the beauty of its housing stock - especially brownstones. As my Brooklyn tour guests will recall, brownstone is essentially sandstone with a large iron ore content that gives the material its rich, typically chocolate-brown shade. Thousands of row houses fronted with this material were constructed by the new urban middle class during the 19th Century, most notably in parts of Manhattan and the older sections of Brooklyn. Although many brownstones had been neglected or abandoned in the post-World War II era, these were still magnificent structures with a character you won't often find in a suburban development. In addition, the Brownstone communities were typically close to Manhattan and often possessed a certain bohemian feel. If you were willing to put in a little "sweat equity" you could get a great deal on one - if you could find a bank which would give you a loan.

"Redlining" was the term used to describe a form of discrimination in which lenders (and sometimes insurers) would simply refuse to do business in a certain geographical area. And many of the early pioneers of the "brownstoning" movement, as it was called, encountered great difficulty in securing mortgages and homeowners insurance, despite their good credit and stable incomes. Eventually both government pressure and a recognition that you can't just rule out customers based upon their Zip Codes caused the banks and insurers to change their tone. It was clear that brownstoning was not just a fad, and that brownstone owners were good for the economy. An early advocate for brownstoners was Brooklyn Union Gas (now Keyspan) which sponsored home shows and a series of "Cinderella Projects" where they renovated highly-visible structures on run-down blocks. It made good business sense, and was great PR.

Brownstoning helped to revitalize many Brooklyn areas, including Cobble Hill, Boerum Hill, Park Slope and Fort Greene.

What Color is Your Mood Ring?

Pop psychology was big in the 1970s, and it merged with tacky fashion in the form of the Mood Ring, which supposedly could tell you (or anyone else who cared to look) how you were feeling.

The Mood Ring contained a chemical which would turn color in response to minute changes in temperature. As anyone who took one of the Stress Management classes that were also popular during the decade knows, the human body's "fight or flight" response to stress causes a reduction in the blood supply to the extremities. With less warm blood in them, the hands get cooler. A Mood Ring was supposed to sense these small changes in skin temperature, and they usually came with a little card or booklet that matched color to mood.

Assuming the things worked as advertised, I don't know why anyone would want people to know when their Fight or Flight mechanism was kicking in. Perhaps the idea was to show the opposite - how mellow you were.

"Stress cards" were a related gimmick that were popular at "New Age" and health food stores. These contained a patch upon which you pressed your finger - again to detect skin temperature changes. I once got a catalogue of assorted paraphanalia which shrinks could use to market their professional abilities, one item being a box of stress cards, custom-printed with the therapist's name and address. "Stress sells your business," read the blurb.

Carlton Fredericks - Radio Doctor

During that second half of the 1970s the popular nutrition guru Carlton Fredericks had a hugely popular radio program that dispensed some pretty cutting-edge (or off-the-wall, depending upon your perspective) advice. This was during an era when there were not a zillion doctors, pharmacists and snake oil salespeople on the air extolling the virtues of various foods and vitamins.

Born Harold Frederick Caplan, Fredericks had a BA in English and reported to have a PhD in Public Health Education (although the Quackwatch web site says his graduate degree was in Communications). He became a popular media figure, advocating vitamin supplements and health foods at a time when taking a One-A-Day was considered excessive. You could tell that this guy was an English major; he was extremely articulate. He also wrote numerous books on nutrition, many of which are still for sale.

In 1976 Fredericks began his "Design for Living" program at 10:00 PM on WOR radio. The chief sponsor was Prevention magazine. His teachings were not only contrary to the medical establishment, but also differed sharply from what most health food types believed. For example:

• Fatty meats were good for you, he stated, especially liver, brains and other organs. He and Atkins had a few things in common.
• Cholesterol, Fredericks claimed, did not cause heart attacks. He believed that clots formed in the coronary arteries after the attack.
• Schizophrenia and other mental disorders were often the result of hypoglycemia - low blood sugar, or nutritional deficiencies that required the patient to have abnormally high requirements for certain vitamins. Treatment was termed "orthomolecular psychiatry."
• Sugar was THE enemy.

Although he made it clear he was NOT a medical doctor, Fredericks did repeatedly say he had his PhD in public health education. If indeed, his training was in communications, he seriously misled the public, since he certainly did discuss treatments for various illnesses. In addition he hosted a weekly "Radio Nutrition Class." CF also smoked, although he claimed to take vitamins to counteract the effects of tobacco.

Despite some of his outlandish teachings and possible lies about his credentials, Fredericks did have his good points. He was a fierce advocate of high-fiber diets, cutting back on refined foods (especially sweets) and fresh vegetables.

He Wrote the Songs that Made the Whole Town Barf

We can argue as to whom the BEST NYC songwriter was, but to me there's no competition for the WORST category. I'm talking the guy who made more guys puke than any other: Mr. Barry Pincus of Williamsburg. Yup, that's him, Barry Manilow, the Sulton of Schlock.

During the 70s BM had a series of hit singles which appealed heavily to young women, who swooned for him in the manner that their older sisters did for David Cassidy and Bobby Sherman. But unlike those turkeys, BM not only sang, but he wrote the corniest, dumbest, most asinine lyrics ever to emerge from our fair city. Needless to say, the males tended to cringe when he came on the radio. Who can forget?

"Oh, Mandy.
...You cam and you gave without takin...
... You kissed me and stopped me from shakin'...."

Worse yet, the salute to the fabled Copacabana night club:

"She sits there every night and drinks herself half blind
She's lost her little Tony, now she's lost her mind
At the Copa, Copacabana,
The hottest spot north of Havana...."

Actually, BM served a vital function for many of us. If somebody we were interested in was a fan of his, it was a good warning signal. "Danger, Will Robinson!" A BM fan will probably have 2 dates before she wants to drag you off to a schlock wedding at some gaudy catering hall decorated like a tacky Atlantic City casino. Cool women did not listen to Mr. Pincus.

One night I was seated with my then fiance in a diner in Sheepshead Bay that had those little jukeboxes at each table. I popped a few quarters in and selected some tunes. Nothing happened. Then, about five minutes later, some pseudo-Latin voices started singing "Nueva York, Nueva York." It was BM's salute to our town "New York City Rhythm." I hit the Cancel button. It stopped. Blessed silence. A few minutes later the damn thing started up again. Eventually we had to move to another table, and got the manager to shut the jukebox down.

Mick and Keith Salute NYC -1978

No doubt one of the best tuned ever written about our town, "Shattered" was recorded by the Rolling Stones in 1978 on their album "Some Girls." Here are some of the lyrics:

All this chitter-chatter, chitter-chatter, chitter-chatter
'bout Shmatta, shmatta, shmatta -- I can't give it away on 7th Avenue
This town's been wearing tatters (shattered, shattered)
Work and work for love and sex Ain't you hungry for success, success,
success, success Does it matter? (Shattered)
Does it matter? I'm shattered.
Shattered Ahhh, look at me, I'm a shattered I'm a shattered Look at me-

I'm a shattered, yeah

Pride and joy and greed and sex
That's what makes our town the best
Pride and joy and dirty dreams and still surviving on the street
And look at me, I'm in tatters, yeah
I've been battered, what does it matter Does it matter, uh-huh Does
it matter, uh-huh,
I'm a shattered

Don't you know the crime rate is going up, up, up, up, up
To live in this town you must be tough, tough, tough, tough, tough! You got
rats on the west side
Bed bugs uptown
What a mess this town's in tatters
I've been shattered

My brain's been battered, splattered all over Manhattan
Uh-huh, this town's full of money grabbers
Go ahead, bite the Big Apple, don't mind the maggots, huh
Shadoobie, my brain's been battered
My friends they come around they Flatter, flatter, flatter, flatter,
flatter, flatter, flatter
Pile it up, pile it high on the platter

Who can forget the band's performance of this tune on Saturday Night Live.

Amy's - Creating Falafel Addicts

During the 70s there was a small chain of Middle Eastern restaurants that really helped turn a generation of New Yorkers on to falafel, babaganoosh and other treats from that part of the world.

Amy's was founded by an Israeli fellow who named the company for his old sweetie. There was one by Lincoln Center, and another near Columbia University. The one at Lincoln Center had a small eating area upstairs on a small mezanine that offered a nice view and a bit of privacy. The location by Columbia was pretty no-frills, but during a time when that section of Broadway was not the strip of fancy cafes that it is now, it was quite popular. There may have been more locations, but I never visited them.

Amy's food was fairly cheap, filling and (at least at that time) slightly unusual. It was also vegetarian, although not exactly lo-fat or lo-carb. Their falafel sandwich wasn't the greatest this side of the Atlantic, but it was a meal in itself, at a time when non-meat options for eating out were pretty limited. You could get a good meal there for a few bucks, and stuff like babaganoosh was still a bit exotic. Don't forget that during the 70s a cheap meal typically meant a coffee shop.

Too bad these fun places are gone.

The Lord's Hookers - The Children of God

They looked like hippies - at least what media portrayed hippies as being. You'd see them on street corners during the early 70s, handing out "Mo Letters" containing the musings of their founder, "Moses" David Berg. Many people called them "Jesus Freaks," although their teachings (especially about sex!) were very different from what the other youth missionaries were preaching.

The Children of God came out of California in the late Sixties. (Why did so many of these sects come out of the Golden State?) Mixing doomsday preaching with long hair, communal living and (later) unorthodox notions of who-can-sleep-with-whom, they were familiar sights. I remember being handed one of their "Mo Letters" in 74 or so by a spaced-out, friendly young woman with really long hair and a maxi peasant skirt.

Green Pig Blows Bank to Bits!

So read the lead article, based upon a dream which Mo had in which a large green pig ran into a bank and exploded. He interpreted this as meaning that the economic system would soon collapse. The way to escape the soon-to-come Apocalypse? Well, join the Children of God, of course.

The CoG soon got a reputation for what Mo termed "flirty fishing" - women who would come on to men in order to try and bring them into the fold. Mo figured that, since Jesus hung out with prostitutes, then it was holy to be one. I never met one of these "Hookers for Christ," as the media termed them.

A short while later, the Children packed up and moved abroad.

A Vintage Police Car- NYPD Green

Here are some views of a vintage 1968 Plymouth police car. This type of vehicle was seen all over NYC in the early 1970s. Note the single "cherry on top" flashing light.

In the Seventies most municipal vehicles were painted in a drab shade of green, as were the interiors of many City offices. I am not sure why; maybe they thought it would look "no-frills" - as if the taxpayers would moan over a different color.

The TA was one of the first agencies to dump green as the exterior color of its busses, opting instead for blue. Meanwhile, for pretty much all of the 70s City vehicles remained green. This pertained to Police, Corrections - even the morgue van.