Monday, February 26, 2007

Book Review: "The Last of Her Kind" by Sigrid Nunez


Our Town downtown
February 26, 2007

“The Last of Her Kind”
Sigrid Nunez
Picador
$14.00

391 pp.


“The nineteen sixties were a very turbulent time in our nation’s history,” one of my college professors said in a Ben Stein-like monotone. “I’m sure you’re all very tired of hearing about it.” A vocal majority of us agreed.

But “The Last of Her Kind,” Sigrid Nunez’s story of a friendship forged during this period, avoids the usual clichés – that mythologizing of cultural figures, events and practices from the time that would have you believe Che Guevara’s face on a t-shirt was a symbol of truly progressive politics, that Jim Morrison was a visionary poet, and that sharing a joint with a five-year-old could be a good idea.

Roommates at Barnard College in 1968, Georgette George and Dooley Ann Drayton (who prefers “Ann”) have almost nothing in common, which is exactly what Ann wants.
Ann is from a Connecticut family that has help, goes to clubs and sits on boards. Georgette is from a small town in New York State, where there’s not much going on except alcoholism, poverty and domestic abuse.

And while Georgette, who will soon drop out, wants nothing more than to escape her background, nothing could be nobler or more romantic or purer to Ann. That would be, of course, unless Georgette were black. “She did not want a roommate from the same privileged world in which she had been raised,” Georgette, who narrates most of book, writes. “What she had really wanted, she said, was a black roommate. But she had not had the courage to ask.”
Georgette is understandably put off by this strange new presence in her life, but gradually she and Ann become best friends. The story spans decades, through their falling out, and through an incident that lands Ann in prison for life, and their eventual reconciliation.

It is deceptively simple to hate Ann Drayton. She is capable of being viewed from so many different angles that if you can’t feel for her, you can at least understand her.

Nunez sets the tone with Ann and Georgette’s early relationship, but also explores Georgette’s brutal rape, her relationship with her mentally ill sister who resurfaces years after running away, and Georgette’s failed marriages.

Through it all, she reveals more and more about what makes Ann tick – what is selfish and idealistic, unfortunate and lucky, insensitive and compassionate, generous and unforgiving – and where it all comes from.

Almost from infancy, the extremely thin-skinned Ann is endowed – plagued or blessed, depending on perspective – with an innate concept of the world as a place where people like her parents are the flashpoints for a chain of suffering around the world that never seems to end.
Her ideals and the radical endeavors she embarks on are built on this kind of class guilt, yet after a time she shuns Students for a Democratic Society, still committed to social justice, but thinking that she’d rather do something to achieve it, directly, than participate in internal power struggles.

It’s easy to be disgusted with the way she treats her parents, who may be dandies, but basically have good intentions – or to write off her tirades (during a family function she tells them they should pay reparations because a branch of their family once owned slaves). But her desire to heal the suffering of the disenfranchised, however misguided, comes across as sincere.

As she narrates, Georgette often looks back with the near-disbelief of someone in middle age looking at the out-of-control cultural landscape their youth took place in. “There was a copy of ‘Soul on Ice’ in Ann’s bookcase. There was a copy in at least half the college bookcases in America. It was radical Holy Writ and a national bestseller … [Ann’s friend] read aloud the passage she was looking for right away. She read aloud the passage containing [Eldridge] Cleaver’s justification of his rape of white women as a means of taking revenge on white men.”
Ann has a Joan of Arc complex, and often the exalted figures in her iconography, namely the proletariat and African-Americans, are cool to what she must see as charity, repentance and authenticity.

After Barnard, when Georgette is working at an early Cosmo-like magazine, Ann, predictably, disapproves. But Georgette realizes that perhaps not all of the early feminist tenets are sacred – that she just might long for a relationship with a man that goes beyond the purely physical, and that she doesn’t really want to reject all the girly creature comforts that delight the readers of the magazine she works for.

With an increasingly unpopular war continuing to stagnate in Southeast Asia, race relations that were still unsubtly problematic, and a generation of kids and parents who were as out of touch with one another as could be, maybe it was natural for the overreaching that took place in the pursuit of social reform and often resulted in violence, death and ruined lives.

But you don’t get the impression that Georgette is looking back on the 60’s and 70’s with a totally jaundiced eye either. She reminisces with affection, tempered with the cautiousness that comes from living to tell her own story. And while she recoils at a lot of what Ann says and does, it seems she agrees, with some detachment, that it’s better to at least have a vision for improving the world, and then chase after it, than to want nothing more than the status quo and smugly talk yourself into believing that things couldn’t be better.

-- Matt Elzweig

Q & A with Echo Danon, Program Director, Steve Cohen, Genral Manager - East Village Radio

Steve Cohen (left) and Echo Danon (right), in front of
East Village Radio/Photo by Andrew Schwartz
Our Town downtown
February 26, 2007

If you walk by Lil’ Frankie’s Pizza on First Avenue in the East Village you will notice a section of the storefront with DJ’s behind the glass. This is East Village Radio, an online station created by Frank Prisinzano, who owns Lil’ Frankie’s and other restaurants in the neighborhood.
It features live broadcasts and podcasts and for Prisinzano “is like a cultural project,” general manager Steve Cohen says. “He always contends that the neighborhood was really good to him and that this is like his gift back to the neighborhood.”

Cohen and Echo Danon, the station’s program director, both have musical backgrounds, and are both part of what Cohen calls the “extended family” that started up the station in 2003.

A local, independent radio station in Manhattan. Why?


Echo Danon: It came out of a conversation that Frank Prisinzano had with a friend of his named Jorge DoCouto. And Jorge had been doing some pirate radio [in Austin, Texas]. It began with that idea, of giving a radio station to the community, which would provide a soundtrack that we thought was sort of fitting.

But then you were forced off the air.


ED: The FCC, they sent us a “Cease and Desist.” And we don’t want to play with the FCC. So we shut down immediately. Evidently we could have continued to broadcast, but there was no reason to push anything. We realized that because we had the Internet as a new forum that that would be a better route to take. And we could hopefully reach more people that way anyhow. It was just sort of a fun thing to do and it was rebellious. But we’re rebellious up to a certain point.

So far it’s all music?

ED: No, we have a couple talk shows. Andrew Andrew does one talk show on Tuesday. They have an artistic approach to their show. They’ll take certain themes, artistic or cultural, and speak about those, include music in the program. Their show is conceptual. Then we have a show called “DList Radio,” which is a homoerotic talk show. Then we also have writers from “The Daily Show” on Thursday doing comedy skits and inviting in guests.

So there’s no profit-generating part of the station?


ED: We wish there was. [When] we started out, [we] considered being a not-for-profit organization and then decided not to do that and instead run as a community corporation.
We sell ad space on the Web site and that helps to sponsor DJ’s shows. Other DJ’s who have been here for a long time pay dues to help contribute. Most of our monthly costs are covered by Frank.

Are the podcasts popular?

Steve Cohen: First of all, talk about popular, we had no idea how popular we were until we did the podcasts and the archives and saw what kind of downloads that were happening, because that’s where you get most of your traffic. Because of the convenience of being able to plug in when you want to, the vast majority of people do it just that way.

Is your format similar to college radio?


ED: As far as the programming is concerned, meaning that it’s foresworn that DJ’s can say and play what [they want]. I’m sure that college radio has more restrictions than we do. Once we get a DJ on board, we’re open to them expressing themselves. Freedom of expression is important.

Are people passing by curious about what’s going on inside?

SC: A lot of the shows look to really include our neighborhood. It’s not uncommon for people to just walk in and for a DJ to put that person on air. One time I was doing a show, and I was having a technical problem where a tape that I had prepared, I brought it in and it didn’t have the level. So I only had three CDs on me. And a fellow just happened to come in off the street. And the guy was a poet. And not only was he a poet, but he was really good. I mean, check this for a concept, he composed his poems from only information that he got in the subways.

What are your biggest goals for the station?


SC: What the station stands for is, really, a different format. When I grew up, when we had like that renaissance or that cultural revolution, it was something that was on everybody’s minds, like The Beatles, for instance. And what was so interesting was so many people went with it. Radio, it reflected [that]. It surprises me now, when I go to dig into this vintage say, psych rock, and I look back, how much of it I did hear [on the radio]. Sure, there’s tons I didn’t hear, but the fact that I did hear it says that a lot of it was being played on the radio. And things just changed after that. What we’re really trying to do, is we’re trying to say, ‘in a sense, you’ve only heard a small portion of what’s going on, in a lot of ways.’

I’m not saying that they gave up on them. Maybe there’s an arbitrary nature to how business develops and what’s happened. Everything is going ahead at a rather quick pace. There’s a tremendous amount of content—material out there no matter what you’re interested in—that’s really worth getting into. So that’s what we’re looking to share, that there’s a wider palette. The idea for us is, ‘hey, can we re-open this up? Can we redo this a bit?’ so that we can start to interest people and not look at music as just another appliance that goes along with their dishwashers and their cell phones.


—Matt Elzweig

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Developmental Difficulties: Does affordable housing have a future?

Independence Plaza North (left) in Tribeca was originally
a Mitchell-Lama development . New tenants pay
market rate. (Photo by Andrew Schwartz)


Our Town downtown
February 19, 2007

It’s a cold, but clear day, and from the terrace of John Scott’s 38th floor apartment on Greenwich Street, you can see the Empire State Building perfectly. You might think that in a location like this the rent is as high as the altitude, but it’s not, for now.

For the modest two-bedroom, which he estimates measures close to 1,000 square feet, he pays just $1,423 a month, but, he adds, that amount will go up soon because his landlord, a developer named Laurence Gluck, recently announced that he was going to begin submetering and adding electricity to each tenant’s monthly bill.

It may sound like Scott’s place is a steal, but he says it costs him about two weeks’ pay to come up with the rent.

Scott moved here, from Brooklyn, in 1975, when Tribeca was not yet Tribeca. It didn’t have a school; it didn’t have a supermarket; it was deserted at night and was more of a shadowy back lot to the Financial District than a place where people actually lived.

This is why World Trade Center workers, for whom this complex, Independence Plaza North, was intended, were not interested.

In response, the original owners, Duane Street Associates, enrolled the development, which was completed by 1975 and comprises three 39-story towers and 75 attached townhouses, in the government-subsidized Mitchell-Lama housing program. And in doing so, they filled its 1,329 apartments to capacity with low and middle income residents like Scott that same year.
Scott credits Independence Plaza with planting the seeds that later sprouted Tribeca, which Forbes rated as the country’s twelfth most expensive ZIP code (10013) in 2006.

The residents came together and worked to transform the area into a neighborhood, Scott says. In 1982 they were successful in getting the prices on nearby commercial spaces affordable enough that the first supermarket, a Food Emporium, could move in. They also lobbied the city so they could create Washington Market Park with their own hands, and succeeded in having the government build PS 234 (still called Independence School), which was completed in 1988. Scott’s daughter was part of the six-student class that “opened the school.”

The first signs of trouble came in the late nineties, when residents were made aware that Duane Street Associates was planning to buy out of the Mitchell-Lama program so they could begin renting out vacated apartments at market rate, and raising rents for the existing tenants.
(According to a recent report on Mitchell-Lama housing by city Comptroller William C. Thompson, Jr., “the majority of Mitchell-Lama rental units that have withdrawn from the program are eligible to raise their rents to market rate.”)

Residents also started to notice deteriorating building conditions around this time, Scott says. “They started to fire the doormen. And the building … was starting to go downhill as far as the elevators were broke, the carpets were dirty. So we got involved,” Scott says.
The residents raised “a few hundred thousand dollars,” determined to buy the development from Duane Street Associates. Their plan was to make Independence Plaza an equitable co-op, and allow people who couldn’t afford to buy a co-op to stay in their apartments. “And it wouldn’t have been a for-profit type co-op.”

But for some reason, Duane Street Associates chose to sell Independence Plaza to Gluck in 2003, which tenants found out about in a letter. Just a day later, Gluck let them know he planned to leave the Mitchell-Lama program within a year.

Today Independence Plaza is no longer a Mitchell-Lama building and vacated apartments are being rented to new tenants at market rate.

The existing tenants negotiated with Gluck.
Now half of them receive federal subsidies that are determined according to their income. The other half, including Scott, are charged their last Mitchell-Lama rent, plus whatever the rent stabilization increases are for a given year. But according to Scott, new tenants are paying approximately $4,000 a month for two-bedrooms like his, and he, for one, will eventually be forced out.

He also says there is a disparity in the way these new tenants are being treated as compared to the tenants who came in under the Mitchell-Lama program.

“He’s taking all this money from the federal government and if a person’s refrigerator breaks, what he’s doing is giving you a secondhand refrigerator [that] doesn’t work well. The services, he’s giving less, but he’s giving you know, services, to the new tenants that are paying higher rents.” New refrigerators, for example.

After repeated attempts to get in touch with representatives of Laurence Gluck via e-mail and telephone, Our Town downtown was able to speak with Kathleen Cudahy, a spokesperson for Gluck, on the telephone, on the day this article went to press.

Cudahy stated that she had very little time to answer questions about Independence Plaza. But when asked about the secondhand refrigerators, she said that “under the law, you are permitted to do that.”

It’s no secret that as the housing boom continues to flourish, it’s getting harder and harder for New Yorkers of moderate means to remain in Manhattan and the city in general, with steep rents leaking into the outer boroughs, Brooklyn in particular.

Last March, Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg announced an expansion of his already ambitious affordable housing plan, billed the “New Housing Marketplace Plan.”

His original goal was to “create or preserve 65,000 units of affordable housing by 2008,” and then that number was expanded to 68,000.

The latest figure, which he referred to in this year’s State of the City address, is 165,000.
According to the New York City Housing Authority, which is working on the mayor’s plan along with the Housing Preservation Department, the target date for the completion of this new housing is 2013.

The stated cost of the program is $7.5 billion and the mayor is calling it “the biggest affordable housing initiative ever undertaken by an American city.”

The housing initiatives of “Plan 2030,” which he announced in December, are based on the newly created Office of Long Term Planning and Sustainability’s projection that the city’s population will reach nine million by that date.

“In order to welcome New Yorkers from every background we must also fix the persistent housing and land shortage that’s driven prices to record levels. Already, nearly a third of renters in New York City pay more than 50% of their income toward rent,” a Plan 2030 brochure reads.
One strategy for preserving affordable housing is the Tenant Empowerment Act (TEA), introduced by District 1 Councilman Alan J. Gerson, which would give tenants in buildings (and their supporters) whose owners are opting out of subsidy programs the right to buy their building at market value. It would also give them the right to match any offer, no matter how high, that their landlord might receive from outside bidders.

The New York City Council passed this act “over the mayor’s veto, and now it’s in court because as expected the real estate industry is suing and we’re [awaiting] the judge’s ruling,” Gerson says in a phone interview.

Whether or not it becomes law, Gerson also wants to create an affordable housing preservation trust fund that, starting with the next city budget, would designate a “significant amount of money every year … to give to tenants a real opportunity to buy out … with the condition that if they take advantage of this fund they have to keep the developments affordable.”
Two “broad strategies” for creating new affordable housing that Gerson is working with are rezoning and building on available city lands.

He says that by enabling developers to build higher and in some cases denser buildings than current zoning allows, there would be more room for affordable units. Pricier apartments tend to be those that are higher up, so the affordable units would likely be on the lower floors of the given building. This way, the building would have more units.

Gerson says these types of developments could be built on underutilized sites on the Lower East Side, on larger streets like Chrystie and Allen, and certain parts of East Houston, and on other, smaller streets.

Both ideas are included in the Department of City Planning’s Lower East Side rezoning proposal.
Developers working in other areas, in Chinatown for example, could be given the ability to “add just two or three floors” to existing buildings and the older “apartments could be kept affordable or renovated as affordable,” Gerson says.

Michael Ragolia, who is in charge of housing policy for Gerson’s office, says in a phone interview that another of Gerson’s goals is to increase the number of affordable units in Lower East Side buildings built under the 421-a tax incentive program.

That program currently requires participating developers to set aside 20 percent of all units for affordable housing in their buildings. “Hopefully in the upcoming Lower East Side rezoning, we will get more than 20 percent affordable units. That’s absolutely our goal,” Ragolia says.

Manhattan Borough President Scott M. Stringer also supports increasing the percentage of units in these buildings from 20 percent to 30 percent.

And on his Web site, Stringer writes that the city should make the income requirements for rent-stabilized housing more flexible.

He will host a conference to address the concerns of Mitchell-Lama residents on March 3rd at the John Jay College of Criminal Justice.

When the first Mitchell-Lama rentals and limited equity co-ops went up in 1955, and the prototypical two-teacher families moved into them, the city’s real estate market was vastly different. There was more space, the market was weaker, and there was a greater need for multifamily housing period, rather than multifamily housing that was affordable.

Mitchell-Lama developments built after 1973 can be bought out, enabling landlords to raise rents in those buildings to market value.

Owners of these buildings, who have taken part in a city tax incentive program designed to help them with renovation costs, are required to notify tenants about their participation in the program because it restricts the amount of rent they can charge tenants.

But in 2005, the Independence Plaza North Tenant Association (IPNTA) says it discovered that the original owners took part in the program, known as “J-51,” and never notified the residents.
“As a result there may be legal grounds to challenge [the] purchase by [the] current owner,” Gerson says.

A group of Independence Plaza tenants are currently doing this and are waiting for State Supreme Court Justice Marcy S. Friedman to issue a ruling. If she rules in their favor, they could have their rents dropped to the regular rent stabilization rate.

About recent development taking place downtown, Gerson says that “if we don’t do anything, downtown will become a ghetto for the very rich and a disproportionate amount of which will be people who are just keeping, you know, second apartments here … and other folks who are … jet-setting around the world.”

He believes “there’s a place for that, but not an exclusive place.” He says Wall Street executives are concerned about where their employees will live too, and also, that there’s an underreported lack of affordable housing for the elderly, meaning assisted living facilities.

Richard Grossman, a downtown sales director for Halstead Property, thinks that even if rent regulation were to phase itself out, it wouldn’t happen for “generations.”

In a phone interview, Grossman describes what he sees as a civic benefit to deregulation. As buildings “phase out rent regulations, I do believe the city will be able to charge more in taxes, because then those apartments will be more valuable … Taxes are figured on the income of a building. As those incomes increase, the taxes for the building go higher, and the more income the city will have as a … municipality. And we need the money I’m sure.”

He believes the city should have people at all income levels “from a cultural point of view.” And when I describe the higher buildings that Gerson mentioned, he says he thinks it could be a viable strategy.

At least some deregulated apartments will not become luxury housing, he thinks, because “newer people will be entering that housing market and sort of be redefining what middle class is … for that housing.”

He says a lot of deregulated buildings are not “intrinsically” upscale, and so they’re harder to modify in that way. The hypothetical example he gives is of a vacated Mitchell-Lama apartment, where the rent leaps from $500 to $2,500. “It’s one thing to rent one apartment for $2,500 a month, but now you have 300 to rent – I don’t think it’s as easy.”

The real estate boom is “redefining what middle class in the city is going to look like,” and Grossman sees people who were once Manhattan’s middle class continuing to migrate to the outer boroughs in increasing numbers, in the future. “People are looking at Brooklyn and Queens in ways they haven’t … for generations.”

John Scott is convinced that if the original Independence Plaza residents are forced out of the neighborhood, the services and amenities will disappear with them.

What he calls “transients” – young people who share an apartment and move after a year – have already begun moving into his building.

He believes that if deregulation and new development continue in the area in the way they has been, eventually “you’ll have a sterile white community.”

To Scott, the real estate values in the neighborhood are the result of hard work by “pioneers” like himself.

“It was us who [were] here first with the schools and volunteered; it was us with the parks; it was us with the Little League and the greening of Greenwich Street. You know, we are still the ones that water the plants and are active [on] the park board. But the rich people that are among us are not as involved as we are.”

His worries about development and deregulation go beyond Independence Plaza. At a recent town hall meeting, he stood up and spoke about new construction projects in the area that are not zoned to include twenty percent affordable units. He would like to see that, at least.

Monday, February 12, 2007

Book Review: "Paradise Travel" by Jorge Franco

Our Town downtown
February 12, 2007


















“Paradise Travel”
Jorge Franco

Translated by Katherine Silver
Picador
$14 (paperback)
228 pp.



The immigration debate is still inching along in Washington, “Babel” snagged a Golden Globe for best picture, and Lou Dobbs continues to rail against outsourcing and NAFTA on television, seven nights a week. The moment is ripe for a novel about border-crossing and illegal immigration. And Picador was either prescient or just lucky in choosing to release the English translation of Colombian author Jorge Franco’s 2001 novel, “Paradise Travel,” this winter.

Like the makers of films like “Babel,” Franco builds his story of a young Colombian couple who escape to and then from New York, through a scattering of flashbacks, though his telling is somewhat less convoluted than theirs is.

“Paradise Travel” refers to the agency in Colombia that Marlon Cruz and his girlfriend Reina hire to get them to the United States, after the embassy denies them visas. They know that Paradise Travel is really a coyote front, and that the journey will almost certainly be dangerous. But they are desperate enough to take the risks involved – Reina out of an innate restlessness and a general disgust with her country: its lack of opportunity, its rigid social stratification; and Marlon, who is more ambivalent about sneaking off – because he loves Reina and would probably follow her off a precipice and into a ravine.

But all of this is a build-up to a very unfortunate chain of events that happens almost as soon as they arrive in Queens. Marlon accidentally kills a police officer and while running from the scene, loses his way and most fatefully, Reina.
He is lost in a city he doesn’t know how to navigate, a city he can’t communicate in, and where he suddenly finds himself homeless.

Despite some clunky metaphors and plot devices (the city as a beast, its infrastructure as the guts; giving Reina different colored eyes to underscore her dual nature as loyal nurturer and striving opportunist; and some overblown scenes, like one in which Marlon has a temporary breakdown in the face of his new circumstances) “Paradise” has an emotional center that rings true, and in Marlon Cruz, a main character who is endearing and easy to empathize with.

Jorge Franco is a self-proclaimed member of the McOndo school of fiction, which takes its name from Gabriel García Márquez's fictional town, “Macondo.” These writers avoid the fantastical images and accompanying political themes made famous by García Márquez, Mario Vargas Llosa and their peers. There are no beatific heroes with golden butterflies flying out of their mouths as revolutionary forces knock down village walls, in their books. They are social realists who chronicle a segment of Latin America that is much lesser-known in the first world, the middle class.

Yet there is something vaguely metaphysical to “Paradise.” Reina is elusive even when she’s right in front of Marlon. She is the reason he is New York, yet she is nowhere to be found.
She proves to be both his reason for living and the bane of his existence. And with time, though he remains stubbornly loyal to her, refusing to give up his search, he comes to feel tricked by her, in a way.

Orlando Tobón, a real-life fixer of sorts, for immigrants in Jackson Heights (and who played a character based on himself in “Maria Full of Grace”), appears in the book by name; it’s a minor distraction that pulls the reader out of Franco’s fictional world momentarily.
It’s more than a stretch that even an undocumented alien could just flee the scene of an accident with a dead cop in his wake and roam freely inside the country for so long. (The story takes place over about a year, and Franco never goes back to resolve the incident.) And the ending is really a question mark that borders on unsatisfying.
It’s also hard to say whether knowing beforehand that the book is a translation is really to blame, but the prose is choppy at times.

Despite its flaws though, the story underscores the personal networks that people take for granted when they’re home, and how terrifying it can be to exist without a net, especially in New York, and especially for a foreigner. Marlon’s good fortune and his undying hope aside, it’s likely that the prototypical immigrant who comes with visions of gold-paved streets would come back in a sequel as a cynic. But it’s hard to imagine Marlon Cruz like that.

-- Matt Elzweig

Monday, February 05, 2007

The New Angle: A Different Kind of Film Festival Is Coming to the Financial District

Tom O'Malley (left); Luke Szczygielski (right), founders of
the ACE Film Festival. Photo by Andrew Schwartz


Our Town downtown
February 5, 2007

23 is young.

This fact was not lost on Wall Street Rising’s Rustie Brooke, when Tom O’Malley and Luke Szczygielski, both 23, came to the Lower Manhattan organization’s headquarters to ask for sponsorship for a downtown film festival they were planning.

She was, in a word, “skeptical.” In a telephone interview, she described their attire that recent Thursday afternoon as “college grungy.” (O’Malley doesn’t recall what he was wearing, but says that Szczygielski tends to “overdress.”)

Yet, the two recent Syracuse University graduates were accompanied by another 23-year-old, Daniel Koffler, who was wearing a suit and who Brooke knew well. And with Koffler, who runs the Broad Street Ballroom (formerly The Downtown Auditorium) and whose father, Michael, owns the nearby Claremont Preparatory School, to vouch for them, Brooke and her executive director were willing to listen. But not without a thorough grilling.

Brooke and her executive director “quizzed them, very thoroughly,” asking them about things like who their target audience and client base were, and who they thought the filmmakers contributing work to the ACE (American Cinematic Experience) Film Festival, would be.

Szczygielski came to the U.S. from Poland in 1998 and is a freelance photographer and designer, and lives in Yonkers. O’Malley is from Syracuse and followed his girlfriend, an aspiring actress (and also the festival’s poster girl) to Manhattan after college. He is a Web administrator for a nonprofit.

Both “Transmedia” majors, they met in a 16 millimeter, black and white, film production class, their junior year, and bonded over a similar frustration with the school’s film curriculum, namely budget restrictions that created “technological hurdles” and an overemphasis on foreign films. “If we were to actually make a movie, we would never be using these Bolexes [the 16 millimeter cameras] that were used in Vietnam,” O’Malley said. “We spent a whole class talking about how they’re bulletproof. Well I don’t expect to be shot at while I’m filming.” And, “if it didn’t have subtitles, it wasn’t worth showing in class, basically,” Szczygielski said, during an interview in O’Malley’s East 29th Street apartment.

Though it was an obvious problem to them, their classmates seemed to “brush it off,” O’Malley said. “Like, if you asked them who their favorite filmmakers were, ‘oh, oh Fellini, obviously, Fellini, Fellini, Fellini, Fellini, Fellini, Fellini.’ Shut up.”

They also felt that on the festival circuit, American independents were getting lost in the shuffle amidst all the international submissions.

Neither one was eager to jump from film school into a nine-to-five grind, but the notion of creating a festival that would feature films made in the U.S.A. exclusively, to fill this void, didn’t become a real idea until they became roommates.

When O’Malley moved to Manhattan in the fall of 2006, their discussions got serious.
They didn’t want their event to be “the anti-film festival,” O’Malley said. They didn’t want to create “a monster” either – the type of festival that focuses on “how many A-List stars you have, if your red carpet’s long enough to accommodate all your celebrities, when you start to figure in space for limo parking in your venue.”

They wanted to exist somewhere in between those two extremes and create the kind of independent showcase that would be huge, but maintain a focus on promoting quality independent American filmmakers.

One of their first orders of business was finding a space in which to host the event.
They began pitching their idea to venues all over the borough, four or five in-person, and about 10 over e-mail.

Armed with a PowerPoint presentation on a laptop, they would enter places like the IFC Center and Symphony Space, and present their vision of a three-day festival with a projected budget of $150,000 that they expected would be paid for, mostly, by sponsors. Sponsors, they said, would be enticed by free advertising, a chance to help boost the Lower Manhattan economy as it strove to become a real neighborhood, and if it mattered to them, get in “good standing” with the local arts community. They expected a total of 1,800 people to attend.

When they arrived at these meetings, they were never dismissed outright. But the venues’ staffs tended to write them off as cute, and it was pretty clear the answer was going to be no. Then “it would be another two hours of telling us why this isn’t gonna happen and why this isn’t gonna work anywhere, including their venue, why we should just give up,” O’Malley said. “IFC Center, I think, quoted us way too high, just to get us out of their hair.”

But they didn’t give up, and when they cold-called Daniel Koffler, after finding the Broad Street Ballroom’s Web site, their diligence paid off. “Daniel was on board from the second I talked to him,” O’Malley said.

Originally, O’Malley and Szczygielski planned to hold the event starting on a Tuesday. So when Koffler offered to give them the room, which is inside a former bank, on a weekend, they could hardly believe it; this would cost a paying client “five figures,” Koffler said. Having it on the weekend wouldn’t be a problem because during the end of August, which is when the festival is scheduled for, there is not much activity going on at his facility.

Koffler also offered them an entire floor of Claremont Prep for basically the same reason. They plan to use it as a networking lounge for filmmakers and other attendees to hang out in between screenings. It will have a casino (with prizes), in keeping with the festival’s Western-themed décor, free catered food, and a shop selling independent DVDs and related merchandise. They are also trying to book some live bands for the space, which they are calling ClubACE.

“Once we got the venue … it started snowballing,” Szczygielski said.

By January, they had 11 sponsors, including the NY Foundation for the Arts (NYFA), to whom five percent of their ticket sales will be donated. (Koffler suggested they donate some portion of the proceeds to a nonprofit whose mission was consistent with the festival and its overall concept.)

For monetary and in-kind donations, they offered different levels of sponsorship, and launched a Web site and a MySpace page (that now has almost 16,000 friends, according to Szczygielski).
To find judges, O’Malley began by consulting directories in the back of the many filmmaking books in his personal collection. Before long, he and Szczygielski managed to put together a list of judges that includes prominent producers, directors, writers and actors.

Similar to other festivals, according to O’Malley and Szczygielski, they will screen all entries, narrow them down to the ones they want to show at the festival and then send them off to the judges who will watch them off site. The categories being judged include Feature, Short/Video Art and Student Work (including both high school and college submissions). Included within these categories are animation, documentaries and music videos.

Winners will receive an award and will be invited back to the next festival as judges. (O’Malley and Szczygielski are already throwing around ideas for future years.) But the festival will primarily be an exhibition of the selected filmmakers’ work, and the winners won’t be announced until after the event.

About a week after the submissions period began, they had already received roughly 40 entries. The judges have told them to expect 500-700 by the time the submissions period is over.

Daniel Koffler has no particular interest in the film industry, but was sold the first time O’Malley and Szczygielski visited him. “[Tom] had an idea and a vision, and he seemed totally dedicated to it” he said.

Koffler gets requests to donate the Ballroom all the time, and has gotten more selective about who he lets use it for free, since past beneficiaries left little more than a mess to clean up the next day.

“They’re not just party planners, planning the event for somebody else … These guys care. They’re doing it all the hard way, which I can appreciate.”

And although he didn’t see much to gain from the festival, at first, he figured that with August being a “dead time” for the Ballroom, it would be a way to keep busy, and would be good for the neighborhood.

He has since become a kind of informal business mentor to them, and put them in touch with Wall Street Rising and the Ballroom’s existing vendors. He doesn’t involve himself with the festival’s artistic concerns, though.

“I’m totally in love with the idea. I think it has the potential to be the next Tribeca Film Festival, if they do it properly. You know, granted, we don’t have Robert De Niro. We don’t have the money and the effort that they put into it. And that’s a phenomenal thing, what they have over there … But, I think when you match star power and money with some creativity and hard work, you can do something similar.”

Koffler predicts that the first year “serious film types” and “people in the neighborhood,” will attend, but that “the real experiment” will be the second year.

And he thinks the area needs something to bring all the neighborhoods of Lower Manhattan together, and that one day the ACE Festival could be it.

Frank L. Sonntag, NYFA’s Director of Development, said in a phone interview that thinks the biggest challenge the ACE Festival will come up against is building an audience because potential ticket buyers in the area already pay high rents.

One unusual feature of the festival, though, is that anyone who buys a ticket for one, two or three days can reenter as many times as they want.

Tim Rhys is the Editor-in-Chief and Publisher of MovieMaker Magazine. In a phone interview, Rhys, who just got back from the Sundance Film Festival, said that making a festival unique, getting publicity and having time for all the labor involved are the biggest challenges an aspiring festival producer faces.

To be a successful festival, he estimated that two or three people need to be working on it full-time, and the call for entries needs to be announced almost a year in advance for publicity.
“It’s not difficult to get sponsors. What’s difficult is to sustain yourself for the first couple years, before the sponsorships equal … pay for everyone involved, because they won’t for a while.”
He thinks that “for a small grassroots festival” limiting the submissions to movies made in the U.S. is a “terrific strategy,” but that to be one of the bigger festivals, it’s better to cast a wider net (by allowing international submissions).

Rhys also thinks film festivals can benefit the neighborhoods that host them. “If you can survive the first couple years, you’re gonna have a nice little business, probably. And what people are starting to realize is … they’re good little economic engines for their geographic domains.” People book hotel rooms and eat at restaurants in the area when a festival comes to town. “Service industries all benefit from active film festivals, so if you can get a film festival going, especially in an area that’s a popular destination … like Manhattan is … I think [you’ve] got a good chance.”
Ten years ago, there were only about 600 film festivals worldwide. Today there are 2,000. Even in Manhattan, they “were just a novelty,” Rhys said. “Right now, they’re considered a sort of must-have thing for a Chamber of Commerce.”

He does not agree that studio-backed films are shutting out independents from a large chunk of the festival circuit. “I think that depending on the quality … you’re never gonna get shut out … What you might be hearing about is that there’s so many new people making movies right now, that they might feel like they all deserve a place at a film festival. And guess what, they all don’t … I don’t mean to sound like a snob, because I think that everyone who makes a film that’s not really up to snuff can make a better film, and a better film after that.”

With the drastic drop in prices for video cameras over the last five years, a lot more people are out there “learning the language of film,” Rhys said. He thinks that new festivals will cater to this expanded pool of filmmakers, but that while it means more talent, it also means more films that are “not up-to-snuff” for audiences to “slog through.”

Wall Street Rising’s Rustie Brooke was “very impressed” by the answers O’Malley and Szczygielski gave her when they came to ask for sponsorship.

She made sure to ask them probing questions because they were “very young men working on a very, very, very intense project.”

She felt that their goals coincided with Wall Street Rising’s own objective, which is largely to boost the area’s economy.

Their project, “if it’s successful, [will] influence and broaden exactly what our mission is,” Brooke said.

“We don’t have a film festival downtown – not like this, where they’re catering really to young people, okay? The Tribeca Film Festival is very slick. It’s really like a small Sundance at this point. And the ACE Festival’s very different. They’re appealing to students and colleges and we like that. We like those kind of people.”

-- Matt Elzweig