Social Commentary: Occupy Wall St.

10/13/11

Occupy Wall St.

In the days following the Civil War, a young black man approached Frederick Douglass on the steps of the U.S. Capitol. With all due reverence the young man asked Mr. Douglass what he, as a young black man, could do to help the cause of his race. Douglass replied "agitate young man, agitate".

Zuccotti Park, Lower Manhattan

Over the past few weeks, I’ve had the opportunity to cover the Occupy Wall St. protests that have been held in Zuccotti Park in Lower Manhattan. During that time, I’ve managed to observe the demonstrators from both a distant and intimate perspective.

When I first drew the assignment to cover the protests for TV news, I have to admit that I was less than thrilled. I saw it for the long hours I would be spending in the streets, shooting and interviewing a bunch of clueless, young, wannabe hippies! I felt that it was nothing more than another one of the many small, ineffective protests waged by mostly deranged people that I had seen so many times picketing and chanting in front of the NYSE. In fact, I was so negative about it that my wife chastised me for being an “old fuddy duddy”! She reminded me that we were once very much like those clueless, wannabe hippies, trying to end the war in Vietnam and change the world. And, if they REALLY believe in what they’re doing, they just might succeed. They certainly should not be mocked for their efforts. Quite to the contrary, they should be lauded. As usual, in time, I came to see that she was completely right. As the hours went by in my duties covering the event, I would do what I always do with a story: let it unfold and let the story tell itself.

These are my observations and subsequent conclusions.

First, many of the protesters ARE clueless, young wannabe hippies. Many are there simply because it’s a happening i.e. an opportunity to party, join in drum circles, participate in group chanting, and create what can only be described as a carnival atmosphere. There are jugglers. There are gymnastics. There is face painting. And, I’m reasonably sure, there is even some drug use going on (on the streets on NYC? Oh, no!). However, I must admit that I did not observe any drug use first hand. But this type of behavior is not unique to Occupy Wall St. In fact, this behavior can be observed at virtually any gathering of mostly young people. Its purpose is to create harmless bonding.

A few of the participants that we interviewed were genuinely not what one would call stable personalities? We spoke with one middle-aged woman who said that she once owned an employment agency that specialized in placing architects. Because of the faltering economy she was forced to close her business. The reporter and I thought “bingo” this is the type of interview that would lend gravitas to our story. Suddenly, in mid-interview, the woman changed gears and started telling us that things got really bad for her when “the actress Mercedes Rule put a contract out on my life”. End of interview! But large, popular gatherings like this always attract people who live beyond societies norms. Let’s face it; many of these people were there in the first place because they are genuinely marginalized by society. (Some are just more marginal than others) It’s one of the main issues being voiced by the protesters. They want to create a more inclusive society and a truer democracy.

When you think about it, the protesters are democracy in action. They have become the voice of change. What started out with a small group of mostly students in NYC has grown to become a movement of hundreds of thousands, spread out in cities all over the country. The group claims to represent the “99%” of the population that carries the burden for this country while the remaining 1% lavishes themselves with the rewards. The big “rap” on the organization is that is does nothing more than “whine” about our troubles without offering any solutions. As recently as the other day, former President Bill Clinton, who generally supports the movement, jumped on that bandwagon by claiming that “it’s easy to complain but much harder to resolve” (my quotes). Well, as my wife so insightfully said to me when I gave her that same argument, “it’s not the protesters’ job to resolve the issues. That’s up to the lawmakers and legislators, etc. It’s their job to bring light to these issues in the most significant way possible. And that they have done”. And, once again, she’s right! They are the Howard Beals of Network fame, collectively screaming “WE’RE MAD AS HELL AND WE’RE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE”!

And so far, it seems they have struck a cord with that 99%! The protest has continued for nearly a month and shows no sign of weakening. In fact, it strengthens daily. As recently as this morning (10/14/11), the group flexed its new found muscle when it “altered” the City’s plans to remove them from the park so that it could be cleaned. Zuccotti Park is privately owned and is usually cleaned daily. It had not been cleaned since the protesters began their vigil in the park. Claiming unsanitary conditions, the owners asked the city to clear the park for that purpose. The protesters would be allowed to return to the park after the cleaning but would not be allowed to re-erect tents or bring sleeping bags into the park. Many people, not just protesters, saw this is a veiled attempt to break the momentum of the protest. Well, it failed!! In a brilliant move of democracy in action, a compromise was reached (THE PARTY OF NO – please take note) which would allow the park to stay “occupied” by the protesters indefinitely: First, the group mobilized and thoroughly cleaned the park. And, next, and, perhaps most importantly, they organized a campaign, mostly using the Internet, to flood NYC officials’ email with a petition consisting of over 350,000 names from ALL OVER THE COUNTRY in support of Occupy Wall St. and calling for a moratorium on the removal of the protesters. As he has from the beginning, NY Mayor Michael Bloomberg supported the First Amendment and, so long as the public good was generally served by the presence of the protesters in he park, no laws were broken, and area businesses were respected, Occupy Wall St. can continue un-interrupted at Zuccotti Park.

There is perception and there is reality. Many people still see this group as, mostly, a bunch of filthy hippies. As in all things, there is some truth to that. If you choose to, you could “classify” some of them as hippies. Some of them are indigent and, so, may not practice the best hygiene. A producer in the studio asked me if it really smelled there, implying a lack of sanitary conditions. I said, “of course it does, it’s on Broadway and it smells like Broadway ALWAYS smells, terrible”! It really had nothing to do with the people in the park. But, in reality, I also met unemployed construction workers from Boston and businessmen from New York. There were grandmothers and grandfathers. I saw ethnicities of EVERY type. There were many families with children participating. Meals were organized. Speeches and marches were scheduled. Volunteers formed sanitation committees. Schools made field trips to the site to see this democracy in action firsthand.

From what I have seen during my time there, it is entirely inclusive. It MUST remain inclusive. That’s the POINT these people are trying to make. We’ve lost touch with that concept. And they are trying to reclaim this right as Americans. In many ways (and god help for saying this!) they are the liberal incarnation of The Tea Party. They, too, want to reclaim the country for the people. Their goals are similar, as are some of their methods, but the base remains far apart. IMHO The Tea Party remains more exclusive while Occupy Wall St.’s goals seem more inclusive.

However, it’s worth noting that there is one thing both of these divergent organizations can agree on: the need for change in our way of governing. The true power must be returned to the hands of the people. And it could happen if we can find a way to harness the obvious dissatisfaction that we ALL feel and turn into a force to be reckoned with! The Tea Party has, and continues to exert its influence on the American political scene. Well, now they have to make room for its muscular cousin – Occupy Wall St.

And, POWER TO THE PEOPLE!

It sure feels good to say that again.

Photo Gallery for Today: More Scenes from Zuccotti Park

Here are some faces and scenes from Occupy Wall St.'s continuing demonstration at Zuccotti Park in Lower Manhattan (10/11/11). As you can tell from these and the other photos that I have made in and around the park, the demonstration is being powered mostly, but not exclusively, by young people. I admire their grit, determination, and their fervent desire to make the world a better place. More to come!

all photos by F LoBuono. All rights reserved.

Young and old alike are participating.

Pretty accurate, don't you think?!

Huddled masses!

Prophetic.

A sign for everyone!

Young people pitching in, creating a community.

Doesn't this one really symbolize what this is all about?!

People of all ages are speaking out!

The NYPD did a good job of allowing the demonstrators freedom of movement but kept lower Manhattan functioning at the same time. They do it on foot and by scouter!

Occasionally, the demonstrators would break into an impromptu march like this one up Broadway.

Photo Gallery for Today: Scenes from Zuccotti Park

Scenes from the Occupy Wall St. demonstration at Zuccotti Park in lower Manhattan. The evening of 10/10/11

all photos the property of F. LoBuono

The Corner of Broadway and Liberty Street, one of the entrances to the park
There was a fair amount of young families who were participating.
The wall that outlines Zuccotti Park on the Liberty St. side.
Sign making.


Most of the demonstrators are young people.
Many discussion, both public and private were going on.
Many ethnicities participated.
The very respected Randall Pinkston at our "live" camera position.
Randall with cameraman Gary Cohen.
By late in the afternoon, the park is overflowing with demonstrators.
WCBS reporter Katherine Brown
The corner of Broadway and Liverty
The huge crowds listened to speeches in the heart of Zuccotti Park.


Somebody threw-up color on this guy!
The NYPD was actually a very relaxed presence on this day.
An impromptu march up Broadway.


The Flag Man!


I made these photos while on duty covering the Occupy Wall St. demonstration in Zuccotti Park in lower Manhattan that has lasted nearly a month now. Having been able to observe it all for hours and with a unique perspective, I'll share some of my thoughts on what's going on down there in a later entry.

The park is located at the corners of Broadway and Liberty Street (somehow prophetic, don't you think!). The photos were made in and around the park on the late afternoon and evening of 10/10/11.

New Contributor: Clea Carchia

Please welcome our latest contributor, Ms. Clea Carchia, with this wonderful, short story for children.

The Hound Dog and the Pigeon

A children’s story

By Clea Carchia

There was once a hound dog puppy named Fender. He was born into a prominent southern Appalachian family, known for their hunting skills. Every morning while he and his littermates snuggled close to their mama, he would see his pack leave the house with their human masters. A few hours later they would return with their spoils, a pheasant, a turkey or some other small feathery animal. His canine family was proud that they were known for generations as having great talent and instinct for the chase . . . but Fender was different. He felt bad for the birds. In fact, he kind of liked them. Of course he didn’t tell anyone. What kind of freak was he? A hound dog who didn’t want to hunt.

Late summer turned to autumn. The days had grown shorter and cooler and the leaves on the trees had started to turn. Fender had grown from a cute fuzzy ball of fur to a tall, beautiful, athletic young dog. He kept his big secret to himself until the day came for him to go out with the rest of the pack on his first hunt. This is an important coming of age ritual for hound dogs. The air was buzzing with anticipation and excitement. His worth was going to be judged on how well he could track and point.

The morning was crisp. Humans were cleaning their guns and packing provisions for the day. A group of men led the dogs into a big truck and headed for the woods. Fender’s healthy, sleek, black and white coat glistened in the sun as they hiked up the mountain in search of prey. The human hunters spotted a flock of grouse who had stopped to rest at a nearby pond. This was it . . . Fender’s big test. The leash came off and he ran toward the grouse. But instead of tracking quietly and reporting back to his humans, Fender ran right at the group of birds chasing them all away! “Go! Get out of here!” He screamed, “The humans are coming to kill you!” The grouse took to the air and all flew away, unharmed.

Needless to say, this did not go over well with Fender’s master. He was very disappointed with this type of behavior. It was unheard of! What kind of hound dog doesn’t want to hunt? Feeling like a reject, head lowered, Fender followed the humans back onto the truck and started for home, or so he thought. They stopped at an old broken down building. There was a lot of barking and many angry dogs jumped against a tall chain link fence. It smelled bad. Fender was scared. His master pulled him out of the truck and yanked the leash hard, pulling him toward the door. Fender struggled. They entered the building and his master left him without even looking back.

Frightened, Fender cowered in the corner of a smelly concrete pen. A large, gruff, unsmiling woman glanced at him briefly, then looked back at her computer. After some time without food or water, a tall thin man approached. He put Fender on a leash and led him out to an area with a lot of separate enclosures. There was one dog in every cell. The man put him into one of the runs and walked away. Fender looked up at cinder block walls and out through holes in the chain link in front of him. The floor was cold. Wind was blowing rain through an opening in the back of the enclosure that led to the outside. Fender missed his family. He shivered and shook until he finally fell asleep.

Fender woke up to a lot of loud barking, howling and jumping. The tall thin man opened the pen of a straggly looking old black dog with wiry fur and gray around his mouth. The old boy’s eyes were wide and frightened. He was dragged down a long hall, into a dark room. Everyone knew that once you went into that room you never came out. It was usually after you had been at the shelter for a while and no humans had come to rescue you . . . or if you were old and sick. Fender did not like this new place one bit and he was so sad his human family had chosen to abandon him. He crawled to the back corner of his cell, curled up, and put his head underneath his paw.

Days turned into weeks. Every day at least one dog would take the walk to the one-way room . . . the room with no exit. “Maybe it was better than suffering like this anyway,” he thought. No one loves me anymore. There’s no point to living.

One day three young humans came into the shelter. Everyone was curious. “Why are they here?” Fender thought. They were laughing, smiling and talking to the dogs. They seemed so nice. Suddenly, one by one, the tall thin man opened the pens and handed off the dogs to the group. It seemed like forever before they reached Fender’s run. Finally they opened it and led him out. Fender and about 20 other dogs were loaded into a big van. They drove off and away from the horrible place. They drove and drove until it was dark. When they arrived at their destination all the dogs woke up and stretched. They were led into a building and put in pens where they went to sleep for the night.

In the morning when they woke they could see this place was much better than the last place. It didn’t smell so bad and the people were nice. They were played with, given toys, and allowed to go outside together. Friendly people would come and sometimes the dogs would leave with them! Fender was so much happier now, but he was still lonely and longed to find a family who would love him.

About a week went by and a woman with red hair came in. She looked around at all the dogs. When she spotted Fender she smiled and pointed at him. One of the young volunteers opened the door and took them out back to get acquainted. They played together for a while. Fender really liked her and tried to act real cute so the woman would pick him. It worked! He walked out with the red haired woman and away from all the other dogs. He felt bad for them, but was relieved to be off of the cold concrete floor and away from the chain link fence. The nice woman took him back to a beautiful house with a big yard where she threw a ball for him to fetch. She lived with a man who was really nice too. She took him for long walks and patted him gently on his head. He was given a nice soft bed to sleep in and many toys. Fender had found his forever family.

Fender lived a very happy life for many years and never knew hardship again. One day a woman with curly hair came to the house. His mommy had to go away for a few days so the curly haired woman took him to her house for a visit. He ran up the steps, through the door and all around, excited to be in new surroundings. He spotted a cage in the corner with a large gray pigeon in it. “How cute! A sweet bird,” Fender thought. He remembered back to the days when he was expected to chase and hunt birds and recalled his whole horrible experience at the first shelter. He put his nose up to the cage and the bird walked over. Fender sniffed. The bird sniffed back. The woman opened the cage and took the pigeon out. “This is Nicky”, she said and lowered the bird down so he could take a look. Fender put his nose up to the bird’s wing and felt how soft his feathers were. He had found a new friend. He was relieved that he wasn’t expected to kill the bird. Fender realized he didn’t feel like an outcast for being different any more and was so happy he was accepted for who he was . . . a hound dog who liked birds!

The end J