In the late 1980s, a group of homeless men assembled a row of plywood shanties along the seawall that borders the East River between the Manhattan Bridge and the Brooklyn Bridge. Several of the individuals had been evicted from Tompkins Square Park. Others were expelled from vacant lots, public parks or abandoned buildings. Two of the men had fled the arched ramparts of the Brooklyn Bridge; another was routed from an underground tunnel. Some sought respite from the city's shelter system, while others sought refuge from foreign regimes. Few of the men were new to homelessness.
The sunrise offered solace. The sense of community offered stability. Wooden pallets, discarded from local delivery trucks, provided fuel and building supplies. Residents of neighboring projects discarded an endless supply of cans that the men redeemed for a nickel apiece. As the years passed, the makeshift dwellings were transformed into more permanent structures that evoked memories of childhood homes: a roof of equal pitch, the same front door, a rope porch railing, a nameplate over the entrance, a certain weather vane. The population grew to thirty-five. Girlfriends arrived. Stray pets were adopted.
From high above, the FDR Drive cast a mammoth shadow over the small village. Perhaps it was the incessant roar of cars that deafened the more subtle sound of the river's changing current. Few were prepared when the bulldozers came on July 1, 1996. For those who considered this home, the dream was shattered. Everyone moved on.
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