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January 31, 2005

Weekly Standard: Freewheeling Protesters

OK, so not strictly NYC CM related. Fuck off - everyone loves a parade.

From the Weekly Standard by Matt Labash

YOU'VE GOT TO HAND IT to our political players. Even with the onset of second-term ho-hums, everyone did his part to convey the momentousness of what some wags call the "peaceful non-transfer of power." Republicans turned out for the inauguration in cashmere-swaddled, mink-stoled finery, dutifully forcing smiles as the president they returned to office cast doubt on their good judgment by showcasing a Lawrence-Welk singer crooning the John Ashcroft-penned "Let the Eagle Soar."

Then there were those pesky protesters. During every convention or inauguration or political-pageant-of-the-day, they go at it once more, as though anyone besides their group-housemates cares. It's as if each side sits down for a quadrennial poker game, the protesters saying to the establishment parties, "I'll see your hollow ceremony, and raise you a gesture of futility."

There's a rote, Groundhog Day quality to it all. It can leave you itching for something more: "the untamed fire of freedom," in the words of our president. And to a bourgeois reporter in a buttoned-down town, there is no greater symbol of freedom than the bike messenger. What respectable citizen among us hasn't wanted to know the feeling of weaving around cars, barreling down sidewalks, wearing fingerless gloves, and shooting heroin in the park?

Happily, the inaugural protests provided a way to combine my aspirations with my obligations. I signed up with the Critical Mass bike protest team. Originating in San Francisco in the early '90s, they are a loose confederation of cyclists who commandeer city streets and generally wreak havoc with traffic. Critical Mass's founding fathers conceived this action as an environmental rebuke to the automobile. But it's become another all-purpose wrench in the grievance-group toolbox. As Nani Wepaste, my Critical-Mass rabbi, puts it, "People are so individualistic these days. Critical Mass is whatever you want it to be."

A few days before the inauguration, I meet Wepaste during Media Day at the protesters' convergence center, a decrepit warehouse where demonstrations are plotted by everyone from the anarchists to the Radical Cheerleaders to the Keys of Resistance (a group that dresses like 1940s-era secretaries and bangs out dictated letters of dissent to elected officials on antique typewriters). While protesters invariably bemoan the nefarious influence of corporate media, they tend to be media whores themselves, going so far as to throw media open houses, complete with refreshments.

The fiftysomething Wepaste looks the part of the revolutionary, with her Che beret and hemp messenger bag. But in reality, Wepaste (real name: Nancy Shia) is a lapsed Republican who spends her days poring over government-hearing transcripts for the Federal News Service. Such a gig affords her occasional proximity to the president, whom she dislikes for hijacking what was once her party, the party of Lincoln and Eisenhower, the latter of whom warned against the ascent of the military-industrial complex. As a photographer, she takes full advantage of her proximity, incorporating Bush photos into her protest artwork.

As we stand in the convergence center's art space, she shows me some. "Look at this one," she says, pointing to a photo of Bush blinking with one eye at half-mast, the eyelid fluttering over a rolling pupil. "He looks like he's high on crack; took it at the National Press Club," she boasts.

Before our ride, I tell her I think we need a team name. I try out the Unicorns, the very symbol of priapic virility, which she doesn't like, then the Fuzzbusters, which she thinks is "too confrontational." She doesn't want to get arrested, as many of her cohorts did two years ago, when D.C. police, in a rare display of cunning, provided bike-protesters an escort, then herded many of them into a park, arresting several. "Let's stick with Critical Mass," she says. She's the boss. But since she had said the group was whatever I wanted it to be, I stick with the Unicorns.

So at dawn on Inauguration Day, two dozen or so Unicorns mount up at Union Station. "Let's roll," someone says, Todd Beamer-esquely. I am comfortable on my steed, having dragged my own Trek Navigator hybrid mountain bike in from the suburbs. But when we reach the first intersection, I make the foolish mistake of stopping at a red light, and am nearly plowed through by another rider. "Why'd you stop?" she says. "We're not supposed to?" I ask, so innocent. Another Unicorn yells, with Zen-master calm, "You don't stop. It's an uninterrupted flow of bodies, beautiful, unfolding, and natural."

We make a pass at an armed services recruiting station, where Wepaste chants a spirited "Hell no / We won't go / We won't fight for Texaco." But it falls on deaf ears. Or no ears, more accurately. It's too early, and the recruiting station is closed. So we roll on through the badlands of northeast D.C. We're not in the saddle 10 minutes before Wepaste bellows out another war cry: "Hot chocolate on New York Avenue!" The Unicorns look like a marauding band of bike messengers, but it's not packages we're delivering, it's a list of demands. Foremost among them: What do we want? Hot cocoa! When do we want it? Now!

Sated from the Swiss Miss with marshmallows, we call the morning-ride quits after stopping at a Malcolm X Park protest featuring flag-draped coffins and the D.C. Labor Chorus, as pleasing to the ear as their name suggests. I meet Sketch, who's part of our crew, and whom I mistake for an anarchist, since he wears a bandanna over his face. But he's not one. He simply attends a lot of these rides and wants to maintain anonymity and not risk overexposure. He doesn't want to be known as the Lindsay Lohan of the protest movement. I offer to take Sketch and Wepaste to Starbucks, but Sketch will only drink "fair-trade coffee," preferably shade-grown, though he's not quite sure what it means. We go to Caribou instead--the trendy chain of coffee houses unfairly rumored to have terror links (First Islamic Bank of Bahrain is its majority owner).

I point out to Nani that we seem mainly to be hitting friendly spots. "Don't worry," she says. "We'll get to you guys." (Indeed, one of the protesters cheerily tells me they've scheduled a future action targeting my neocon war-mongering colleagues at The Weekly Standard. She even offers a sneak-preview of the chant: "Hey Bill Kristol you can't hide / We charge you with genocide.")

We go our separate ways for a few hours, then meet up again for an afternoon ride, this time, down to the inaugural parade route. Wepaste is still nominally in charge--though nobody's ever really in charge of Critical Mass. I've spent the afternoon reading CM theory on the Internet, so when fellow Unicorn Jack throws up his hand to halt traffic, I'm wowed. "Awesome corking, Jack. Really textbook," I say. "What's that?" he asks. I explain it's the official term for intersection-blocking maneuvers. He nods appreciatively, explaining how he puts a little sugar on top by shooting a thumbs-up to motorists afterwards. "You're like a goodwill ambassador," I suggest. "We're all ambassadors," he says, modestly.

Everything's not sweetness and light, however. As we swerve around cars and ride median strips, some cops don't seem to appreciate it. I'm a law-and-order guy ordinarily, but after suffering too many automated-camera tickets at the hands of the glorified meter-maids that staff the D.C. police, I have only one thing to say to them: Let's dance, bulls. An SUV pulls up behind me, and starts blipping his siren, causing me to cry out, "I've got a Smokey on my tail." But as we lose him in a gridlock slalom, nobody raises an eyebrow--perhaps they just don't understand the '70s CB radio argot I picked up from too many BJ and the Bear episodes.

Ride with the CM'ers long enough, and you'll inevitably get a chance to lead, since they tend to be guided only by instinct, like a herd of feral cats. My shot came toward the end of the parade route. Hanging a Louie onto 18th Street, heading down a hill toward Pennsylvania Avenue, I yell to Wepaste that there's no cops blocking the tributary feeding into the parade route. "Matt's leading us!" she yells, providing my proudest moment as a Unicorn.

But as I let off the brake and aim my bike full-tilt in the direction of some oblivious drum majors, I feel suddenly abandoned. I swivel my head, and see my teammates holding back, circling warily. "What's wrong?" I scream. "We made it--we're in!" Wepaste shakes her head as slow-to-react mounted police close the gap, and start pushing us back. "It's a trap," she says, ever the seasoned veteran.

We take off for the end of the parade route, passing a parked Texaco float, which fires everyone up again (oil is bad). A high school marching band from West Monroe, La., is so close we could touch the marchers, but instead of throwing things or hurling invectives, some CM'ers, who've now stopped their bikes, take their cameras out, and start clicking photos. Earlier, Wepaste had reprimanded me when I asked their term for the scrambling maneuver we'd executed: "You look for too much order," she says, "You have to live with the chaos. Enjoy it."

But perhaps there is something to be said for formality, ceremony, squareness. For one thing is clear as I watch my fellow Unicorns grow tame and saucer-eyed the closer they get to the inaugural spectacle: Everyone loves a parade.

Posted by at 01:13 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

January 05, 2005

New York Press: CRITICAL IMPASSE

From New York Press

By Aaron Naparstek

The NYPD has lost yet another round in its legal battle against the Critical Mass bike ride. On Thursday, December 23, U.S. District judge William H. Pauley denied the city's request for an injunction that would prevent Critical Mass cyclists from gathering and riding without city permits.

Judge Pauley's ruling was a victory for cyclists, but only a defensive one. It doesn't do anything to stop the NYPD's aggressive crackdown on cyclists. The real benefits of Bray vs. City of New York will likely be felt in the long-term. Attorney Norman Siegel's legal team is shedding public light on the irrationality of New York City's dysfunctional, car-oriented transportation policies and the NYPD's role in enforcing them.

One of the most telling moments of the Dec. 8 hearing came during attorney Steven Hyman's cross-examination of NYPD Assistant Chief Bruce Smolka. Hyman wanted Smolka to explain exactly how the police define a "procession" of bikes. Would 100 bikes be a procession requiring a permit? How about 50? 20? For three hours, Smolka avoided answering. Finally, in attempting to justify his officers' arrest of seven cyclists at Union Square on November 26, Hyman backed Smolka into a corner. Yes, Smolka, said, seven cyclists riding together in the street and obeying all traffic rules may be considered a "procession." They could be arrested if they didn't have a permit. Seven cars, trucks or SUVs doing the same thing? No, that's traffic. "Roadways are designed primarily for vehicles to travel in," not bicycles, Smolka said. Cycling in a group, in other words, is criminal in New York City.

Locking your bike is also illegal in New York according to the NYPD. Transportation Alternatives' amicus curiae brief shredded the police department's justification for seizing hundreds of bicycles that were locked to lampposts, signs and street fixtures. In its argument, TA noted that there are 6375 miles of street in New York City and 3400 bike racks. That makes for one legal bike rack every two miles, or one legal bike rack for every 33 cyclists. In New York, if you can't lock your bike to a lamppost, then you can't lock your bike. The NYPD is essentially arguing for the criminalization of cycling.

Some of the sharpest testimony came from Charlie Komanoff, an economist and environmental activist. Komanoff demolished DOT Deputy Commissioner Michael Primeggia's claims that Critical Mass creates unacceptable traffic delays and threats to public safety. On an average day of New York City gridlock, Komanoff calculates, motorists experience a total of 730,000 vehicle hours of delay. A large Critical Mass ride creates, at most, an additional 750 vehicle-hours of delay, an amount that is "statistically invisible against the backdrop of ordinary traffic delays in Manhattan and New York City." The arguments Komanoff assembled for this case lay the theoretical groundwork for a major revamping of New York City transportation policy. It's worth reading for yourself: http://www.rightofway.org/Declaration2.pdf.

Posted by at 02:03 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Villager: Celebrating New Year’s with bikes, and only 1 arrest

From The Vilalger

By Lincoln Anderson

Apparently the police had more on their minds than the Critical Mass bike ride on New Year’s Eve, because they didn’t do much to try to stop it, ending up making only one arrest.

Before Christmas, federal Judge William Pauley III had denied the city’s request for an injunction barring the ride unless someone gets a permit for it. During last Friday’s Critical Mass ride, one woman who gave her name as Ellen rode with Judge Pauley’s decision pinned to her shoulder, its pages fluttering in the wind.

However, as the approximately 200 cyclists gathered at Union Sq. N. around 7 p.m. last Friday evening, police handed out fliers warning that arrests would be made and bicycles confiscated if the bikers rode in a procession without a permit.

As a police inspector in a black Chevy Suburban drove along at the front of the ride, the bikers, whooping “Happy New Year!” headed across 17th St. to Sixth Ave., the presence of the Suburban causing them to stop at red lights.

Pedestrians were equally enthusiastic, one young reveler shouting at the bikers, “You guys are my heroes!”

This Critical Mass saw the bikers donate winter coats to Chelsea’s 10th Police Precinct. With a small escort of cyclists, Peter Meitzler, founder of ManhattanRickshaw.com, pedaled a bicycle taxi with 20 coats over to the precinct on W. 20th St. Leah Rorvig, a volunteer with Time’s Up!, the environmental group that publicizes the rides, said of the 10th Precinct, “They were a precinct that were friendly to receiving coats. Others weren’t that friendly.”

The Suburban then headed Uptown as the bikers hung a right at 31st St. and pedaled over to Third Ave. At Third Ave., Bill Di Paolo, director of Time’s Up!, asked the group whether they wanted to go Uptown or Downtown. Most yelled “Uptown!” The ride streamed up Third Ave., taking up its entire width, and started flowing through red lights.

Shortly afterwards, an ambulance with lights flashing and siren blaring came up fast behind the riders. Shouting “Ambulance! Pull over to the side!” the bikers quickly cleared a path in the middle of the avenue. Passing through the bikers, the ambulance, from Cabrini, abruptly pulled over to the curb in front of an office building between 40th and 41st Sts., in which Governor Pataki’s offices are located.

In the court case, the city made an issue of Critical Mass allegedly blocking ambulances, leading some to wonder if the ambulance run last Friday night was possibly set up by police.

“I have it on videotape,” Di Paolo said afterwards, noting no one had seen anyone rush out of the ambulance after it parked.

At 60th St., the bikers turned left and went to Fifth Ave., then down Fifth to 34th St., across to Ninth Ave., down to 31st St., then down Seventh Ave. — where they were rejoined by the inspector in the black Suburban — and back to Union Sq.

The bicyclists then had hot cocoa during an intermission at Time’s Up!’s E. Houston St. headquarters, before embarking on another ride to Central Park’s Belvedere Castle for a New Year’s celebration. A police car cruised by slowly as some of the bikers, standing in the parking lane, set up a loud speaker for the group’s sound bike.

Despite the dropping temperature, a smaller group of hardy bike cyclists then headed out to Washington Sq., from which they were trailed by police on motor scooters and a paddy wagon as they made their way up to Central Park. Police had no reports of additional arrests on the ride to Central Park.

The one arrest during the Critical Mass ride was at 31st St. and Park Ave. for obstructing traffic, according to a police spokesperson. Asked why police didn’t make more arrests after handing out the warning fliers, the spokesperson said, “They obeyed the laws and stopped for traffic lights.” According to a source, police were set to make arrests, but because of the ride’s small numbers decided to let it happen.

During the intermission, Di Paolo said, “It was a great victory in court and a great victory on the streets. And it was for biking — not for Critical Mass — for people biking to work, everyday commuters, for people biking on trips or just to the store. And for the environment. What a great way to do something for New Year’s, by celebrating out in the streets in a positive celebration.”

Said Rorvig, “We still feel one arrest is too much, but it’s certainly better than in recent rides. This certainly went over well, and we hope the next one goes the same way.”

As to why police handed out the warning fliers before last Friday’s Critical Mass, despite Judge Pauley’s decision not grant an injunction against the ride, city Law Department spokesperson Kate Ahlers O’Brien forwarded a statement by Gabriel Taussig, chief of the Law Department’s administrative law division:

“Judge Pauley’s ruling did not address the merits of the city’s position that the Critical Mass ride was required to get a parade permit and a Parks Department permit [to gather at Union Sq.]. Rather, Judge Pauley ruled that the city’s request for an injunction should be heard in state rather than federal court. Nothing in Judge Pauley’s opinion precludes the city’s enforcement of its permitting laws and we intend to continue to enforce those requirements. A decision has not yet been made as to whether or not we will appeal Judge Pauley’s decision.”

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