Editor’s note: This story originally appeared at Occupy.net.

Occupy Wall Street participants have been pitching in all around the city. The below updates have been collected from coordination emails and Facebook status posts on Occupy Sandy’s facebook page. Shoot your relief stories to submissions@occupywallstreet.net and we will publish them as they roll in…..

Michael Premo: Rockaways

‘The air was thick with water spray and smoke…. a line for food at the community hub just opened tonight at B113th Street and Rockaway Blvd. We had the generator up and running with lights and served 60+ people warm food and distributed clothing, blankets (It’s cold tonight!) and supplies. We also met some really great new friends from the neighborhood. The FDNY continued to battle a fire throughout the evening behind us.’

Jackie Sheeler: Harlem

‘I made 60 sandwiches at home & gave them out to residents at Baruch Houses. NYCHA workers suggested a fire hydrant as a good place for food distribution, & they were right….people (were) carrying their  buckets & bottles of water up many flights of pitch-black stairs in the projects. Many of them are doing it for elderly or disabled neighbors as well as their own families. The few open bodegas can’t take food stamps (the card readers are out) and some of them are price-gouging. $8 for a half gallon of milk. Sickening.’

Timothy Wheldon: Chinatown

‘…many of us spent the entire day in Chinatown at the CAAAV office talking to residents; manning our portable generator/cell phone charging station; handing out food, water, flashlights, and batteries; and going door to door in buildings to make sure people are okay and have what they need.

At one point, almost ten cops came with their lights flashing to tell us we had to stop, because all the people on the sidewalk were creating a “safety hazard,” and they were worried about “rioting” and “theft of iPhones.” They said this was all in the name of “helping the community.”

They made several announcements to the crowd of residents to disperse, at no point letting us interpret what they were saying so that the crowd of mostly Chinese Mandarin/Cantonese/Fujianese speakers could understand what the cops were telling them.

We were able to negotiate with them to keep our adhoc relief center open, but it was a stark reminder of who actually keeps our communities strong and resilient–our residents and our neighborhood organizations who actually give a damn.

At no point did we see anyone else from a city agency, or any relief agency (Red Cross, where you and your billions at?), or any elected official’s office.

SO MUCH LOVE to CAAAV members, staff, volunteers, and supporters who came out today to help. I’m feeling very tender-hearted today towards the city that I love and its people who keep it going.’
Danette Chavis: Chinatown (Smith towers)

‘…Please inbox me as soon as you hear “electricity” has been restored in the area! I couldn’t get any information about it and went there personally this morning… (There are elderly tenants in those high rise building, in the dark, with no heat and the elevators are not working) The manager of La Guardia apartments told me they had just got the “cold water” turned on today, and the information they’re receiving about the “electricity” being restored in the buildings “keep changing”.’

Stephanie Johnstone: Chinatown

‘There is definitely still a great need for…especially humans to go door to door – there are so many people stranded (especially in the projects at Cherry St.) who are without food and water.  And those who could get down all the stairs often didn’t have clear information about what is going on or when power would be back on, etc….

…one woman, who barely spoke English said to/about us “This is why America is Number One.  Because it is built on love. People loving each other.”  I felt great warmth towards this woman, and also the statement is so layered, I don’t even know where to begin!’

Maria Gianas: Chinatown

‘We were there yesterday and although building doormen are saying they are knocking on doors, we contacted and gave bags of food and water to elderly residents who had not been contacted by anyone….especially on upper floors. Just show up with water and food and knock on doors. Give them time to get to the door!!!’

“Trick or Aid”: Greenpoint

‘North Brooklyn was hit hard in places too, but since many of us retained power and stayed dry, we may have a lot of resources direly needed by others…let’s go “trick or treating” for direly needed supplies. Wear your costumes–or don’t worry about it–but make sure to dress warm, it’s getting chilly out there!’

Daniel Florio: Central Jersey

‘Call for assistance: I’ve had no power since Mon night. We’ve been using a generator for my respirator and the boiler.

Will run out of fuel tomorrow and there doesn’t seem to be any in the area. My brother has tried many gas stations today! If anyone in N or Central Jersey can get cans of gas please do so! I live in Maplewood, but someone in my family could pick it up from you if necessary. I don’t have Internet or phone access.

UPDATE: I’m literally overwhelmed by the generous response from friends, acquaintances, and strangers to my posting asking for gas. I’m just now in a place a few towns away from home with internet access, so I literally haven’t started reading all of your posts. I’ll respond and thank you all individually when I’m better able, but I’m very grateful for your thoughts and concrete steps to help alike.

I now have enough gas for a couple more days, and there are some solid leads on getting more…. Thanks to my Aunt Elaine for the acting as Coordinator. This role was sprung upon her, and we had no idea how daunting the magnitude of the response would make this task. Thanks again, and hope you’re all safe.’

Udi Pladott: Rockaway

‘I would (send) some pictures of what I saw at Far Rockaway, but since the entire place is smothered in utter darkness, there’s little to see. You couldn’t really fully grasp it from the pictures, without breathing in the smell of recently burnt down city blocks. The scene is post-apocalyptic: entire streets blocked with huge pieces of the boardwalk thrown around like you would cast a bunch of tooth picks on your dinner table; some streets are just not passable with a conventional car because there is no remnant of the pavement; countless cars lying on the street at odd angles, some perched on top of other cars; more than anything – entire city blocks completely lifeless, without even the flicker of candle lights in the windows. But then, in the midst of all that, there are small groups of people huddled together, either around a bonfire, or around a generator. They need food. They need blankets. They need flashlights and batteries, and so much more. Some of them just really appreciate knowing that they’re not forgotten. They thanked us for simply being there.’

Point Breeze Volunteer Fire Department: Rockaways

‘PBFD firehouse has severe damage we lost most of our equipment, our 2 engines are still operational but on borrowed time, we lost a Chevy Tahoe, everything was under 4 feet of salt water. If any departments have spare supplies we could really use it, flashlights, radios, turnout gear, 4×4 apparatus, office equipment, mobile trailer, etc. We rescued many people and saved a lot of houses under some extreme conditions. FEMA and OEM have been useless. Please spread the word and repost and share. Thank you’

Agnes Johnson: Rockaways

NADLER SHOULD BE CALLED ” The National Guard and FEMA were to distribute meals at 3:00 pm in Coffee Park, where over 200 people stood in line since noon to receive food. At 3:00 pm the supplies and foods were not at the site. I asked one of the lead Guards/Organizers at what time was the food expected, only to get a pathetic “I don’t know” look.

This is yet another example how the people cannot rely on the government to fulfill the needs of our people. When this system has never been able to serve the basic need of our people, we must take a step back and evaluate the work that we do and who we are working for. Only People Power can ensure the survival of our neighborhood no matter how many lies Bloomberg, the President and the Ruling class wants to feed us.’

Sofia Gallisa Muriente: 4 a.m. 11/2/12, Far Rockaway

Homeland Security personnel in military gear, bulletproof vests and holding long rifles pull over three young black men in the middle of blacked-out Far Rockaway as they walk down the street for a glorified Stop and Frisk justified as crackdown on looting. Meanwhile, the streets are full of people in desperate need for help, food, water, electricity, support and other resources.

Kelli Daley: Brighton Beach

The Warbasse houses are still without power making it difficult for the many elderly immigrant residents on the upper floors to get adequate food and water. On Friday there was amazing outreach as several unconnected groups teamed up to make sandwiches, donate groceries and bring those supplies to those in need. That could only be done by navigating the dark stairways, up to 23 floors,  with headlamps and flashlights. Everyone was pitching in to share their lights and translation skills.

Editor’s note: This piece originally appeared at Occupy.net.

New York, NY–Today, Thursday, was my second day of volunteering for relief efforts in Red Hook. Overall it was a successful day of intaking donations, coordinating volunteers, and moving supplies out to the community through the Red Hook Initiative. Our organization was better today than yesterday, but the need was also greater.  People in the community are still learning about the work we are doing so more are turning up as the hours and days go by. We continue to be a lifeline to a huge number of residents in public housing who lack power and water. The larger infrastructural pieces are coming together and will hopefully be in place to sustain this work through the weekend and into next week as residents continue to wait for power and water to be restored to their buildings and businesses to open their doors. The following is my personal account of the work that I did today and saw others do. Please bear in mind that a lot of things are happening that I don’t see, so this is by no means a complete account.

This morning I debated whether to drive or bike down to Red Hook, and in the end chose my warm comfortable car. I regretted that decision when I saw the dense traffic on the highway and decided to take side streets south to Red Hook. I doubly regretted it when I later learned that there is no gas to be had in NYC for love or money (luckily I had a full tank thanks to my saintly husband who wanted on line for 2 hours last night). All the gas stations are cordoned off – the rumor was that only taxis and government vehicles can get it, though it’s totally possible even they lack access.  In the absence of public transport, people are relying heavily on cars.  Starting today the rule is you must have three people in a car in order to cross any of the bridges over the east river (necessary to deal with massive traffic).  As the fuel runs out (go here for a great review of the fuel situation), people will be totally cut off from their jobs in the city and key services like grocery stores.

Upon arrival at about 10:30am I took on the role of volunteer intake, information gatherer, and team lead coordinator, meaning I spent my morning circling around Red Hook Initiative checking in with everyone to see what they needed and attempting to give it to them while gathering information to share with others. The scene was fairly chaotic though we all managed to get our jobs done in the midst of dozens of incoming volunteers, a constant stream of donations bags, many people from the community moving about the facility through tight hallways and narrow spaces between work tables and walls, and all while managing communication with the staff of the Red Hook Initiative (who have been Amazing and deserve massive credit for opening their doors to this operation. RHI is absolutely a worthy recipient of any donations you care to give).

Several very talented and hard working folks were managing operations today, processing a huge amount of donations, volunteers, and questions from the community and preparing hot meals at 12pm and 6pm.  Our leads included Rachel in the supplies intake zone, where she, assisted by 7-10 volunteers at a time, received bags, unpacked them, and sorted them into piles for repackaging and sending out to the community; Paulie Anne in the kitchen, who coordinated the preparation of two large hot meals today, including dinner for several hundred people (with a line stretching around the corner for over an hour); Lisa overseeing kitchen and supplies infrastructure and distribution; another Rachel in the batteries and lights room (closely guarded as these are the most prized supplies); Kirby up front overseeing volunteer groups going out into the community doing needs assessment and fulfillment for individuals and businesses; an incredible nurse from NYU who oversaw distribution of basic medical supplies as well as walk in care and on site care in peoples’ homes where necessary; a lovely woman who stepped up to process the needs assessment forms into a huge spreadsheet; Zoltan providing admin and organizational support as well as helping to lead the needs assessment and fulfillment volunteer groups; and several more key people who worked tirelessly to organize the efforts of the dozens of volunteers from outside and inside the community and to ensure that the dinner line moved smoothly, the batteries got bagged up and sent to where they needed to be, information and forms were properly handed out to people with questions, and much more.  The talented staff of RHI were on hand working hard to move out the supplies and helping to coordinate work and facilitate our interface with the community.

I’d like to say a bit more about the needs assessment and fulfillment as it was a really impressive piece of work.  Starting at 10am, volunteers fanned out to all the public housing buildings without power (and water!) with forms for people to fill out with their names and addresses and specific needs. Notes were made about home-bound people who could not come down to get supplies from us. Volunteers brought back those forms, which were catalogued and organized. Bags of supplies were prepared in the distribution room, carried to the front desk, and sent back out with volunteers who delivered them to people who had made requests.  Hot food was also delivered.  I think that we sent out at least 200 bags today, and have specific information on more needs that need to be filled in the coming days (we will continue to deliver to the home-bound each day).  Additional supply bags were made to be handed out with the hot meal at 6pm.

At around 4:30pm, I walked with a staff member from the city council member for Park Slope (who has been trying to assist Red Hook even though it’s not his district) to a nearby park, where we had heard that FEMA and the national guard would be distributing at least 1000 meals to people at 1pm.  When we arrived, we found a line of several hundred people waiting in the cold (for over three hours) for a truck that was reportedly still struck in gridlock.  We spoke to the one FEMA person on hand, who said he had nothing to do with food distribution and was only passing out flyers with information for people about reporting damage to their homes and cars.  The man in charge turned out to be a 7 foot tall major from the Salvation Army, who was extremely pleasant but short on information about the delivery as he had no direct line to the truck, which was being brought by the national guard.  When we left there was still no sign of the truck, though we later heard that it did arrive and successfully distribute a ton of MRE’s (meals ready to eat), which are military food packets that have to be mixed together in a certain way to prepare the food. My understanding is that the MREs are complicated for those unfamiliar with them and not that tasty. Certainly better than no food, but still problematic. RHI continues to be the effective lifeline for this community providing hot food and supplies in a friendly personalized and humane manner. As a side note, I have not heard of any Red Cross sightings in the city yet.  They may be present or about to be present, but they are invisible to us on the ground.

On our way back to RHI after the Salvation Army field trip, we passed by some guys from NYCHA (housing authority) manning pumps that are still getting water out of the building basements, which is a predicate to restoring power.  The guy said that they would be on site around the clock until the water was gone.  He said he had three pumps going and would like to have a fourth but did not have enough fuel for the generator to make that happen.

Late in the day, we learned that the great people from Trinity Church had coordinated with NYCHA to open the Miccio community center down the block to receive, process and distribute donations starting tomorrow. Miccio has a lot more capacity than RHI and will be a great step up for our infrastructure. There will be a large pallet of supplies coming from the Trinity truck that will augment the stream of donations that we have coming in. RHI will continue to coordinate and process volunteers and hot food distribution.

Now that you have a sense of what we were doing, I want to emphasize how crucial the Occupy network has been in providing organizational backbone to this operation. All of the team leads as far as I know came through the occupy network, as well as many of the volunteers. The Interoccupy site (http://interoccupy.net/occupysandy/) has been updating information about service points throughout the city and resource needs on their main website, and has been responding to our tweets regarding specific needs at our site.  We were able to send car loads of donations that we didn’t need to the occupy distribution hub which could then send them on to the Rockaways and other hard hit areas not receiving the same resources as we are.  Throughout the day I was able to push out messages via twitter and email requesting specific supplies such as flashlights, batteries and water, and those messages reached people who brought us those things.  I was also able to learn what was going on at other sites and share that information where I was.  As one person put it on twitter, Occupy was born last year but has come of age during this crisis. It is incredibly heartening to see this network spring to life and be put to work.

A few more thoughts before I close.  I have seen many commenters online saying that residents of Red Hook housing have only themselves to blame for their woes, as they were told to evacuate. However, people were justifiably wary of the shelters. I heard one report that the shelters available in Manhattan for example had no food and no blankets and felt unsafe, so people who went there just came back to their apartments because a dark home was preferable to an underresourced, scary shelter.  Furthermore, I do not think that thousands of residents should be expected to pick up and move in the face of a storm that no one thought was going to cause this type of damage.

Second, the residents who we served today were, all things considered (days without power and water, where people are living on the 14th floor of a building that has pitch black stairwells), incredibly good tempered and thankful for our efforts.  Notwithstanding changed distribution times (we cancelled a noon distribution and moved another from 4 to 6pm), everyone was very patient with us.  They can see that we are working as hard and as fast as we can to do what we can do for them.  I did hear a lot of frustration voiced at various city agencies and utilities, who do not have a relationship of trust with this community.

Friday will be my last day on the site as I am going upstate to take a break from the intensity of this storm aftermath. Next week I may be back on site. The situation is constantly evolving and we don’t know yet what type of non-immediate infrastructure we are prepared to help coordinate and implement.  The coming days are going to test our limits.  If you have not yet volunteered or donated and would like to figure out how to do it, please let me know.

-Chloe Cockburn-

Editor’s note: this story originally appeared at the author’s blog.

New York, NY–We were far from Wall Street.

The sidewalks were strewn with rotted furniture, tattered clothes and assorted debri. Families and friends huddled around doorsteps, doors swung open in the hopes that fresh air would drive out the stench of the sitting flood waters.

The Mayor said New York City was back to business as he rang the opening bell.

Jose Luiz said “Fuck Bloomberg” as he lifted an axe to the long, thick tree trunk that had lied down flat on his block. Its roots tickled the metal fence on one side of the street while its branches poked at the stoops on the other side. He stood atop the tree, conquering it with his feet, while his pals tied a rope around it and then to the bumper of a worn-out old 4-door.

“Who you wit’, the city?” they asked suspiciously as we approached. If so, we would have been the first to take notice of what was happening on that block off Neptune Ave. Besides those imposing police vans with their glaring lights at night, lights that reflect off the walls of darkened, powerless buildings. Lights that say “Keep calm. Don’t riot.” The police surely wanted to help, but their orders were clear. “We were told to [go up and down this street with our lights on],” one told me. The National Guard had 4 tanks on the next block, and three Guards stood eyeing passerbys on the next street. Stand your guard. Marching orders.

We weren’t with the city, we explained. And we didn’t much care for Mayor Bloomberg either, considering that he evicted us from Zuccotti Park and threw away all our books and tents. We had something deeply in common with these young men, living on the periphery of the 1%’s city, under the heartless dominion of Bloomberg’s Army.

They looked worn out but persistent in the face of 3 days without power, hot water or gas. If they wanted to fill up their car tanks, the closest station had 300 other Brooklynites snaking in a line around it, gas cannister in hand, to fill up from a single pump. A line of cars a mile long paralleled them.

This is disaster-zone Brooklyn.

This is climate changed.

Welcome to New York City. Brighton Beach. November 1st, 2012.

-Justin Wedes-

We were at the Red Cube by 7:15am, joining hundreds of other Occupiers and supporters for the one-year anniversary of the Occupy Wall Street movement. Liberty Square itself was barricaded, a dozen or so people inside – I assumed Occupiers, since what neighborhood resident would be trying to enjoy their park this early on a Monday with so many barricades and police about?

The brutalization of random protesters was rampant throughout the day, apparently as another tactic by the NYPD to punish political dissent, and intimidate those not brutalized into leaving – and to intimidate those who were not there in the first place from ever coming to a subsequent protest or event.

The day began for my group (me, my girlfriend, and friend, who all trekked in from Brooklyn) similar to last year’s #N17 action. We left in a column from the Red Cube and marched down Broadway to Pine & Nassau. Some Occupiers sang parody lyrics to the tune of the Ramones’ “I Wanna Be Sedated,” including lines like, “Hurry hurry hurry / Get me out of jail / I am an occupier / I can’t afford the bail / Oh no no no no / Ba ba ba / I was incarcerated.”

Police lined the streets facing protesters, who mostly stayed on the sidewalks. A saxophone-playing Occupier played The Star Spangled Banner. Protesters massed on all four corners of the intersection. As the song reached “the land of the free” climax, a glitter bomb was popped over Nassau Street. An arrest most of us couldn’t see occurred in the intersection. Chants of “Shame! Shame! Shame!” Then the saxophone played and we sang, “Which side are you on? Which side are you on?” Someone berated the police about how Bloomberg would be stealing their pensions and laying them off soon enough, and then they’d be on our side.

An occupier Mic Check’d saying, “If they block the streets here then go around!” But those of us who were attending and not wanting to be arrested didn’t know where to go around to – we were trying to be witness to those participating in the traffic-stopping sit-downs, as planned and announced on the S17 website.

The Amalgamated Bank (a Union-owned bank; and the bank I switched to from Chase last autumn) on Broadway greeted the day’s protesters with a large poster in their window: “Amalgamated Bank supports the UFT and the Occupy Wall Street Movement.”

By 8:15am, we decided to go find the Labor protest contingent, slated to begin at 8:30, and started heading back up Broadway. But this proved difficult with police lining the sidewalk (on the street). Particularly so because the police themselves relentlessly insisted that we “Keep moving. If you don’t keep moving you will be arrested for obstructing pedestrian traffic” even as they themselves impeded more pedestrian (and vehicular) traffic than anyone else. (Many Occupiers were sure to let the police know about this with chants of “You are blocking pedestrian traffic! You are impeding pedestrian traffic!”)  One female protester called out, “The NYPD shuts the city down for us. Great job, boys!” I was reminded of May Day 2012, when police were so concerned that protesters would shut down the Williamsburg Bridge that the police themselves shut down the Williamsburg Bridge. Obviously who shuts it down is more important than that it is shut down at all.

As we marched north on Broadway on the sidewalk, spirits were high. A band of horns and percussion had everyone clapping and feeling good; spoons were used on scaffolding to accompany the band. And right on time the police entered the sidewalk, waded into the crowd to randomly grab a protester, slam them to the ground, and arrest them. This split the march into two as people recoiled from the brutality. Several white-shirt police with macabre faces lunged at us, grabbing a protester next to me by his backpack and slamming him to the ground, and then a blue shirt cop jumped on him, then cuffed him. I had no doubt that he was grabbed instead of me because he was black, young and male – and I was let alone because I was a white male.

It was at this moment that I felt a peculiar failure as a protester: I didn’t grab my fellow protester from the police and try to pull him back to me. In the split second between being grabbed and being thrown to the ground, he looked at me and said “Help me out!” and I didn’t do a thing. Should I have grabbed him back and probably been arrested myself? I don’t know. I know I should have gotten his name and followed up with jail support, but in the chaos I lost him and did not. The money I was able to contribute later was a minor penance for this failure, which I partially blame the police for creating (he had done nothing to warrant the arrest, after all) but mostly just myself, for not knowing enough going into the action and not being confident enough to know what I should and would be willing to do at any given moment. I hated the police for having created this situation, but that is a futile waste of time and energy.

Wall Street itself was barricaded at Broadway, with police behind the barricades, in front of the barricades, and on the street. Protesters were attempting to move their way north, but the police suddenly cut the march in two, separating me and my friend from my girlfriend. Several people were brutally arrested. The police pushed us north onto the sidewalk, and then stopped. Then they came at us again and pushed us further and further north, until we were practically to Pine Street.

I began calling my girlfriend over and over waiting for her answer, fearing she’d been brutally arrested. Finally she answered the phone and we re-convened. She told me that the police had been pushing her from behind to move south, and she’d told them she wasn’t going to push the people in front of her just because she was being pushed by the police. She told them she wasn’t going to hurt someone else just because the police were pushing her. Then a protester near her was thrown to the ground and arrested. The police continued to push her, and she asked them if her moving south was more important than the brutal arrest going on right in front of them. The police told her, Yes, it is more important. She told them they had fucked up priorities. They told her to move.

Eventually we found our way to Bowling Green, where hundreds of protesters were gathering. An enormous Debt Bubble was pushed from hand-to-hand over the top of the crowd. We set out to peacefully march around the bull, which was at least triple barricaded by this time, as well as lined with police on foot and on scooter. We were pushed back almost immediately, and ended back where we started. The immense resources going to protect this bull are always astounding. Protecting the bull from what? An occupier straddling it? Graffiti? What other harm could befall it? It is as though the city fears that Occupiers “taking the bull” would mean the downfall of the whole establishment. Is there a secret self-destruct button on there?

Back at Bowling Green near the Museum of the American Indian, some musicians playing guitar sang songs I didn’t know and some I did – including a rousing cover of Sublime’s “What I Got,” which rang true and pure over the OWS crowd: “Loving / Is what I got.” Signs in the crowd hailing the Love Generation, or Time For Love, were, like the Troggs song says, all around.

I felt transported in time, as though it were 1968 and 2012 at once. It was like I’d imagined the 60s generation, and I was no longer wishing it was the 60s – I was ecstatic to be alive today, to be alive to witness and participate in OWS.

At Bowling Green several people spoke using the People’s Mic, including Rev Billy, and Green Party presidential candidate Jill Stein, who said that the world was “on a breaking point. It’s time to change the breaking point to a tipping point” for the movement. Helicopters overhead lowered as though to drown us out with their noise, and then elevated again.

Taking a break for a seat, some coffee and a salad in a nearby lunch counter, we overheard some exhausted-looking protesters needing ibuprofen. We provided some from our pockets, glad to be helping.

In the afternoon protesters swarmed into Liberty Park. I was surprised the police had allowed anyone in at all. And of course the population was diverse: young and old, whites and blacks and Latina/o and etc., LGBTQ, the disabled. I spotted again the French fellow who’d kept shouting over police brutality all day, “This is a peaceful protest, thank you!” I spotted at least three city council-members. And perhaps best of all, plenty of people who supported OWS even though they had serious problems with it. It is a place of solidarity, but also a place of disagreement and debate.

For about an hour, I stood in the midst of the drum circle (complimented with sax and trumpet; drummers banging on drums, staircase-handles, the ground, etc.) and joined Occupiers in the jubilee of celebration. As someone announced after calming the drummers into quiet, “The greatest thing we have done is meet each other.” The number of actions, groups, events and change that come from us having met each other can probably never be quantified – which means Wall St will never understand or respect it. But it is an amazing achievement.

I and a few other ebullient, celebratory souls led the chants over and over, familiar ones like, “Banks got bailed out / We got sold out!” and “An / Anti / Anti-capitaliste!” But mostly the one refrain: “All day / All week / Occupy Wall Street!” The refrain, repeated so many times, took on new and different meanings. For one, the initial meaning: Occupiers occupying Wall Street non-stop demanding change. But further, it also meant: We support the movement that is Occupy Wall Street, and we support it all day and all week. Or: There is a movement called Occupy Wall Street, and it exists all day and all week; it exists in me right now as I stand here in the midst of my fellow Occupiers; and it exists in me as I move through the world making decisions and taking actions; it exists in me as I try to learn about the world and better the world; it exists in me and changes me, and I change it. And in Liberty Square it exists within me and all around me, palpably.

A drummer, taking a momentary break, reminded the crowd via the People’s Mic: “All you need to solve all these problems is to love each other.  And that’s the truth.”

-Joel Chaffee -

New York, NY–When we entered One Police Plaza yesterday, we were greeted with a most uplifting scene of a crowded but jovial cell, full of singing, dancing, and warmth. I received huge hugs from the inspiring Bishop George Packard and Professor Steve Burghardt, who were arrested for civil disobedience in the morning. Steve had these wonderful words to share about solidarity and reclaiming our commons:

“Yesterday showed us how high the mountain is that we have to climb—and that it’s worth it. The harshness of police response, as I have written elsewhere, is inevitable due to the underlying threat that OWS continues to be. That threat is not that we will actually close the stock exchange, any more than that Rosa Parks’ refusal to move back on the bus was simply about seating arrangement on public transportation. State violence escalates when a movement threatens the authority of political and economic elites…not just about who owns stock and where people sit, but about everything: elections and levels of profit, who should pay for our debt and who deserves to be in jail. As long as OWS threatens to create this new discourse, we will continue to be met with violence and repression. We’re just going to have t get used to it as we grow.

“But yesterday down in that holding cell, I saw again why OWS is worth it. Early on I got to have a long talk with Dien, a resident at Montefiore with an 11-day old daughter, who sat down near me because he sees what our health care system is doing to poor people. He plans to be practicing social medicine some day, a program build on the liberational work of the Brazilian educator Paulo Friere—the same work that I use in my community organizing classes. About five hours into a long day, Luis, the young Latino arrested by the Wall Street bull, energized us all with two powerful OWS raps filled with rage about the present and hope for a better future. 15 guys, ranging in age from 21 to 71, sat and talked for an hour about strategies for our future—we listened and learned form each other, a rainbow of possibility sitting in a small, cramped circle.

“Sure, there were a few guys in there whose style drove me nuts, some crusties I’m convinced use their constant rage for personal, not political reasons. But you know what? About four hours in, we were all kinda’ down: we’d eaten those god-awful pb & j or American cheese sandwiches (now, thanks to Bloomberg, with tasteless wheat rather than white bread), it was clear we were not leaving for a while, and everyone was bored. One of those crusties had a better idea. He walked over to the empty water cooler jug and began to drum. Another guy joined in on the stand, getting into a nice, solid rhythm that carried throughout the cell. We began to pick it up, tapping on our benches in response. Soon the beat was everywhere, loud and strong, and fast.

“Two cops entered, pissed off, and took the water jug out. The drummer smiled, and walked over to the garbage can. Carefully removing the liner filled with leftovers (including empty 1%–1 per cent!—milk cartons) and began to drum again. The sound filled the room, even louder this time. 120 pairs of hands joined in, a little singing and whooping thrown in across the space.

“That drum soon left the room, too. Then Luis gave us his first OWS rap song. We all were talking again. The strategy group formed. Two high school kids from Pennsylvania were let in the room, a little scared. A cheer went and embraced them in welcome. They smiled, happy, aware that they were safe, too. For a few hours on September 17, 2012, One Police Plaza’s holding cell was transformed. It was OWS’s Holding Commons, where unity was possible and hope lived, too.”

- Steve B
(Professor of community organizing at Hunter College)

This is what solidarity looks like!

- Lucky Tran -

On the morning of September 17th  at 7:15 a.m. I showed up at Liberty Plaza to find it closed by a private “security” force and downtown New York crawling with NYPD, as expected. But I knew the protest would be someplace, and found it over by the orange cube sculpture across the way from the stone bench I slept on during the first occupation of Liberty Plaza last year at this time. A mic check. A set of experiences elaborated by the human microphone. And we were off to block the corners leading into Wall Street and the Stock Exchange, with the aim of at least obstructing the normal operation of criminal banking practices.

And obstruct we did.

I felt alone, just one body in motion, when I showed up, but as the crowd walked down the sidewalks and into the connecting streets of the Wall Street area, I joined in what appeared to me to be an overflowing celebration of our vitality and connection. The brass band played. The guy with the guitar strummed along. We laughed, smiled. Another guy with a guitar and an American flag turned upside down–a signal of “distress” and of course that things are upside down here, and in the world.

We wandered in towards the Stock Exchange, filling the sidewalks. And as we got closer, it became apparent that our numbers were enough to hold the intersection. We flooded in to one intersection, and our flags and protest signs were raised. I looked around. I saw so many cameras, as if everyone were attempting to live this moment in multiple places at the same time–and that’s what it was. We were multiply present, here, everywhere at once, watched and watching, our bodies blocking the street, blocking and obstructing the flow of capital.

When a huge team of very large cops flooded into the center of the intersection, people didn’t resist. We just moved, let them flow past. Standing in the street I thought it wise to try for a piece of curbstone to avoid arrest, and I  managed to get my toes up on one, and hang on to a lattice of poles, to keep me up; then, a colorfully dressed, long-haired, older guitar-wielding guy and his wife eased in in front of me; and as the crowd gathered, one cop started barking orders: “On the sidewalk or you’ll be arrested!”

Behind me  protesters were laughing at a man in a suit who was trying to get to the Exchange. The guy in the suit was trying to squeeze through, and getting frustrated and nervous. He wasn’t going to get to work. I laughed too.

Then with swift force and violence, as the old guy with the guitar tried to get to the sidewalk 4 or 5 cops grabbed him and forced him to the ground, right in front of me. It was like a traffic accident, when you are in the middle of a moment of violence, it all becomes clear, heightened, and I started a cry, “The whole world is watching!” and the guy behind me started shouting it, and everybody started shouting it. We shouted, “Shame! Shame!” on the cops. The whole world is watching. But they used their testosterone-pumped bodies to block our view, our cameras, to make secret what they were doing to the guy as his wife screamed from the curbstone in a shrill pitch: “He didn’t do anything!”

Then I saw three well dressed bankers in suits just walk right down the middle of the cop-filled street. The cops parted like water before them. Big cops, stepping out of the way.The suits walked as if charmed.

Cops filling the street, parting before bankers, violently arresting protesters. It just made things so immediately clear to me. Things are upside down. They are arresting the wrong people. But I felt satisfied, saw, felt, “knew” and owned the obstruction we had all created: we filled the streets, the cops filled the streets, everywhere things had stopped. We did this. Placing our bodies here, multiply present, we delayed their work, we blocked the bankers.

It’s what Occupy Wall Street began as. And it’s fitting that on our anniversary we show what we are all capable of, again and again.

Denver, CO–On Sunday July 29, Occupy Denver marched to support the citizens of Anaheim, CA in their ongoing resistance against their city’s violent and racist police force.  This action brought attention to recent police atrocities in Anaheim, and served as a reminder that Denver’s own police department is essentially a taxpayer-funded street gang with a detailed history of murders, racist beatings, and political repression.  (See the links at the bottom for documented cases of Denver Police atrocities.)

Here is my personal account of my participation in the march and my false arrest by DPD:

I arrived at the march as it staged outside the skate park.  I had my bicycle with me, and rode my bicycle throughout the march, mostly because biking requires less energy than walking.  The march took the streets and went under the underpass by the Rockies stadium as we made our way downtown.  We unfurled our banner reading “Stop Police Oppression– Solidarity with Anaheim” and chanted phrases such as “Justice for Anaheim”,  “We want equality, stop police brutality” and “How do you spell injustice? DPD!”.  At least four DPD vehicles began following us at this point, and they blared their sirens in an unsuccessful attempt to keep the game day crowd from hearing our message.  The leading DPD vehicle was an SUV driven by one William J Andrejasich Jr, a Sergeant in DPD’s Special Events division.

We made our way to the downtown area of Denver, and Sergeant Andrejasich and his colleagues repeatedly attempted to use their voices and vehicles to discourage the march from keeping its message in the street.  DPD prefers to see political expression confined to the narrow sidewalk where it cannot affect business as usual.  This march had other ideas.  I myself chose to remain on my bicycle in the street, as riding my bicycle on the sidewalk would be a violation of traffic laws and DPD will use any excuse to harass and arrest known Occupy activists.

The march continued down the 16^th street mall as we continued to agitate and inform the public about the police murders and subsequent attacks on residents in Anaheim.  Our police escort continued to ride very close to us until we arrived at Civic Center Park.  After the police caravan departed, we decided to resume marching.  We made our way through Lincoln Park and began marching past the Capitol on Colfax Ave.

As the march approached the intersection of Colfax and Pennsylvania, several DPD vehicles pulled into the middle of the street and officers stepped out of the vehicles.  Sensing that DPD was looking for a fight, the march diverted onto the sidewalk.  At this point, three officers charged our “Stop Police Oppression” banner, one of them striking it so as to break the wooden support pole holding it together.  After breaking the banner (which appeared to be the primary target), the officers proceeded to grab and arrest the protester who had been using the megaphone to decry police violence throughout the march.  They led him away into a car, and Sergeant Andrejasich barked at us that “if you go in the street again, we will arrest you.”  This threat seemed absurd given that whenever we march, DPD’s vehicles that follow us essentially shut down traffic anyway.   Sergeant Andrejasich was clearly hoping that by threatening arrest and possible violence, he could frighten our solidarity march into giving up and going home.   He should know by now that Occupy Denver doesn’t play like that.  Having seen DPD use violence or the threat of violence countless times to attempt to silence dissent, I figured someone should resolve Sergeant Andrejasich’s confusion about the relationship between his department and our subversive assembly.  Using the megaphone dropped during the recent arrest, I told him that “Occupy Denver does not negotiate with terrorists, and the Denver Police Department is a terrorist organization.”   Upon hearing this, Sergeant Andrejasich instantly went red in the face and grabbed my wrist, at which point he and another officer pulled me into the street, and while holding my wrists attempted to twist my arms into a painful position (I have a sprained wrist and was wearing a splint).  I was handcuffed, and when I asked Sergeant Andrejasich why I was being arrested, he replied “for obstructing the street.”  I told him that I was legally on my bicycle for the entire march route and he said nothing in reply to this.  He then handed me off to two other officers who placed me in a car and took me to DPD’s offices in the Downtown Denver Detention Center.  Interestingly,  Sergeant Andrejasich is not listed as my arresting officer, and none of my arrest paperwork contains any of his information.  We only know it was him due to his past interactions with our group.  Before I was processed into the jail, I sat in a DPD District 6 cell while I listened to three officers outside the cell flip through the book deciding what to charge me with, highlighting the fact that this was a false, politically-motivated arrest.  Upon being booked into the jail, I was informed that the megaphone I used had been confiscated by the police, presumably as “evidence” of my obstructing the street.

Two more arbitrary arrests of protesters were made after my own; during one of these arrests a ten-year-old child was forcefully knocked to the ground by one of the arresting officers.  The march continued well after my arrest, culminating in a heated standoff between the remaining protesters and a heavily armed line of officers outside DPD’s District 6 headquarters as the march chanted “free our friends” and continued to hurl passionate criticism at Denver’s corrupt, racist, and violent police force.

After the march subsided, a group of occupiers gathered outside the jail awaiting the release of myself and my arrested comrades.   Sergeant Andrejasich again approached this group, and told them that they were creating a disturbance (even though they were being quiet) and that as a warning had already been issued to the group, he could arrest any of them at any time with no further warning.   Sergeant Andrejasich seems to believe that he can operate with impunity, arresting activists simply because they irritate him or offend his political views even when no laws are broken.

Sergeant Andrejasich’s comic arrogance represents DPD’s belief that they have the sole power to decide who is breaking the law and have the right to choose when to selectively enforce these laws.  Everybody knows that jaywalking is common practice in Denver; one can jaywalk in front of a police officer without any fear of reprisal.   However, when one is walking in the street as part of a radical political march, DPD suddenly decides these laws are worth enforcing with great zeal and armed force.  Occupy Denver rejects the Denver Police Department’s twisted, politically selective interpretation of municipal codes, and we reject their claim that they protect and serve the citizens of this city.  Their long record of murders, racist beatings, and politically-motivated violence makes their moral depravity obvious to anyone who is paying attention.  We call on the City of Denver to condemn this corrupt and criminal police department, and to take their destinies and the safety of their communities into their own hands.

Our Anaheim Solidarity march was just one small part of the struggle against police oppression in Denver.  There is a long history of resistance against police oppression in Denver, and this resistance is ongoing.  We encourage everybody to attend the upcoming March Against Police Terror, which meets on August 21^st at 6 PM in La Alma Park (13^th & Mariposa).  More information on this important community event can be found here: 

Here is a short list of news stories related to Denver Police atrocities outside of their attacks on Occupy
Denver:

Recent murder by DPD 

DPD murdered an innocent man last summer, the murdering officers faced no consequences 

In 2009, DPD officers beat a man within an inch of his life while yelling racial slurs at him

DPD recently reinstated, with back pay, two officers involved in the infamous Denver Diner beating

In 2011, the City of Denver had to pay $1.34 million to resolve police brutality lawsuits

In 2010, Denver Sheriffs tased a man to death in the Denver jail simply because he would not take off
his shoes. All officers involved were cleared of wrongdoing.

In 2006, a 24-year-old woman in the Denver jail bled to death as officers ignored her pleas for medical
attention.

Solidarity with Anaheim!
Down with killer cops everywhere!

- @DrBenway2323 -

Photo courtesy of Thomas Melchor

Editor’s Note: This story originally appeared at assangenyc.org.

New York, NY–I am currently writing this blog piece, inside England. Well not literally, but legally speaking. I am currently under the roof of the British Consulate, seeking (non political) refuge from the rainstorm here in New York City on 3rd avenue and 51st street. For Julian Assange, the thin line that divides him between the Ecuadorian embassy and Britain Proper literally is a matter of life and death. British Police have been ordered to arrest Assange the moment he steps off Ecuadorian territory. If he is arrested and sent to Sweden (with the advice of Karl Rove) he’ll likely be extradited to the US, where our government may indict him on conspiracy/espionage charges, which could result in execution by the state.

I am currently completing my second night here at my promptu call-out indefinite Occupation of British Consulate in NYC, in solidarity with Julian Assange. Within minutes of tweeting it out on @OccupyWallStNYC, Russia_Today mentioned it, and it started getting many “guests”. Later, Michael Moore and the Guardian mentioned it as well.

The Tweet heard around the World

It was really exciting seeing how one tweet, later turned into multiple other occupations, from Los Angeles, South California to Sydney and Ecuador. I inspired some, and many inspired me to make that tweet and promptu occupation  in the first place.

Our single demand for this occupation is “We will not leave, until Assange can leave.” It is not the only demand I have, but the consequences of that one demand would restructure society in a domino effect.

I acknowledge there is nothing immediately practical about a 24/7 occupation. There are logistical and legal constraints, as well as limited Internet and electricity. Yet, there is something highly symbolic, and sentimental, about refusing to leave the “sight” of the oppressors, until they change. To quote Frederick Douglass: “Power concedes nothing without a demand”

I also see it as an opportunity to continue the dialogue globally, pertaining not just Assange, but also Bradley Manning, war profiteering criminals, repression of the state etc.

I envision different organizations and communities volunteering everyday to give teach ins, skill-shares about activism, political mobilization, harnessing powers of social media and more. It can be funky too, using film projectors to broadcast on the walls of the consulate, films such as Wiki Rebels or Assange: Sex, Lies and Sweden or even Collateral Murder. Let us celebrate Ecuador’s brave motion to continue to house and protect Assange. Nothing like declaring America’s independence from England (for a second time).

Contrary to previous experiences with organizing political protests, the police here do not see this as a threat to their or the Mayor’s legitimacy, and thus have largely left us alone. That may change when they see we are not leaving for good, until our demand is met, but we shall see. The fight here is not directed at the Police state, but make no mistake, the Police state are a firm branch in the tree of the very fascism we fight. Our occupation is participatory, and if you or your organization are in line with our demand, then this occupation is yours. Join us. Change us. Expect us.

We are in front of British Consulate, 845 3rd Avenue New York, NY 10022.

Live Updates from our Occupiers: https://twitter.com/#!/search/realtime/%23assangenyc

https://www.facebook.com/assangenyc

Website: http://www.assangenyc.org/

https://twitter.com/AssangeNYC

-Yoni Miller-

Chicago, IL–For someone who’s never been arrested, I sure spend a lot of time at Cook County Jail lately.

As part of Occupy Chicago’s ongoing jail solidarity effort for the NATO 5, who are facing terrorism charges, I have been attending as many court dates as my schedule allows.  Most of these court dates are just for updates, or to set new court dates, but being there is an important show of support.  At the first few I attended we pushed our luck a bit by standing and raising fists in solidarity, so much so that the judge has taken to reading a decorum order before calling any of their cases.  He claims it’s not really aimed at us, just meant as a point of information for “people who only know about court from TV,” but since it uses words like “conduct of solidarity” and “protest,” I tend to take it personally.

Here’s what a NATO 5 court decorum order looks like:

All persons in the courtroom must remain silent during all proceedings. There will be no talking, noise making, standing, kneeling, waving, hand raising or other conduct of solidarity, camaraderie, protest, approval or disapproval in the courtroom or in the hallway outside the courtroom.

Going to court is always a bit of a hassle, but worth it to me in the end, even just to see a glimpse of them through the tinted glass that separates us from the courtroom itself.  It makes the long drive, seemingly random security procedures, and waiting through other cases worthwhile.

Visiting hours for the NATO 5 always conflict with work and other obligations of mine, so I haven’t been able to see any of them until this week, when I had a few days off.    For me, spending my time off making visits to friends in jail is the new normal.  I put out the word that I was planning a visit for Monday afternoon and found two small groups of friends also planning to visit.  I met up with the earlier group and we left our stuff at an occupier’s apartment within walking distance of the jail and set out on our way.  (Note to everyone: being without my cell phone for several hours makes me twitchy.)

We walked about a mile to Division 9, the maximum security jail where the original NATO 3 are being held.  It was a cool 97 degrees, abundant sunshine and humidity making us sweaty within minutes.  We walked in holding only our IDs but were still patted down and sent through a metal detector.  Inside we waited to sign in for our visits – I was seeing Jared Chase.  I’ve never met any of them personally, but have been sending books from the Occupy Chicago library and Jared had sent me a personal thank you.  So I figured he would be my first visit.  When they asked me what my relationship to him was, I wanted to say “comrade-in-arms” but settled for the safer description of “friend.”  Then we sat on stone-tiled benches and waited to be called. There was a lot of bureaucracy and waiting involved, which isn’t surprising, but does start to feel mind-numbing after a bit.  When I was finally called I walked through another metal detector, got patted down again, then made my way to an elevator that took us up to the visitation room.

The visitation room has no air conditioning, and I soon felt sticky and claustrophobic.  It is a long, narrow room made entirely of gray concrete, barely large enough to accommodate friends and family on one side of the Plexiglas, up to 10 or 12 prisoners on the other.  With no phone I had no idea what time it was, because who wears a watch anymore?  It’s a tiny taste of what prisoners feel all the time, miserably uncomfortable and cut off from the outside.  I must also admit that I felt my privilege, seeing the racial breakdown of the room.  The number of young children visiting their fathers — and how routine it seemed for them — was heartbreaking.

Eventually a group of prisoners was brought in, and most of the people I had come up with had their visit.  No Jared.  I waited through the visit, which lasted 20 minutes or so.  Then waited for the guards to exchange one batch of prisoners for another.  Still no Jared.  It had been at least an hour at this point, so I went back downstairs and asked at the desk.  They told me to go back up and wait.  I saw my friends in the outer waiting room, already finished with their visit to Jacob, another of the NATO 5, and felt bad for holding things up.  But I would have felt worse if Jared came out for a visit and nobody was there.  So up I went.

I sat in that sweltering room through another prisoner switch and watched as a third batch started filing in.  By this point I had become friends with some of the other visitors, who were impressed at how long I’d been kept waiting.  They began flagging down the guard and asking him when Jared Chase was going to be brought in.  Soon some of the prisoners whose visitors weren’t there yet chimed in as well.  It was a surprising show of support to me, all these strangers wanting to make sure I got my visit.

About halfway through the third visit, they finally brought Jared in.  I had been getting discouraged and wondering if it was worth sticking around, but one look at him gave me my answer.  I introduced myself and he thanked me again for sending books.  He is quiet-spoken and it was sometimes hard to hear him over the noise of 10 other visits in progress, but we managed to have a good conversation.  He told me what other books he’s been reading and asked for updates on the student protests in Montreal and the impending teachers’ strike in Chicago.  He hadn’t heard much about the police violence and subsequent protests in Anaheim, so I filled him in.  He told me he grew up in Anaheim.  He wanted to make sure the others were getting visits as well, and I was touched at his concern.  It would have been a lovely conversation had there not been a window between us, had he not been cuffed, had we both been free to leave the building.

But parts of the conversation were more difficult.  He told me that he’d been “in the hole” (solitary confinement) all of last week, and hadn’t been allowed visitors.  The reason they gave him was that there “weren’t enough cells.”  I could tell that he didn’t buy that excuse, and neither did I.  He looked sad and a bit lost when he said, “I didn’t even do anything, and they put me in the hole all week.”  I wanted to give him a hug, because he looked like he needed it.

He told me he’s getting lots of letters, and he really appreciates them.  He’s trying to write back to everyone but currently isn’t allowed to have a pen, due to a prisoner stabbing last weekend that put them on lockdown.  Hopefully he’ll be able to resume writing letters soon.  Looking in his eyes as he told me this, I felt a mixture of sadness and outrage.  This man doesn’t belong in a place where pens are considered weapons, and not in the metaphorical mightier-than-the-sword sense.  He belongs in the streets with us, changing the world.

I reassured him that we haven’t forgotten them, that we will continue to visit and write and send books and show up for court.  But I could see that being in jail, and periodically in solitary confinement for no apparent reason, is wearing on him.  As our shortened visit drew to a close, he thanked me for messages of solidarity from other occupied cities and gave me a solidarity fist on his way out.

I want to encourage anybody who is able to please visit those who are still incarcerated while they fight these ridiculous charges.  I know the above story is full of frustration and bureaucracy, but it’s so necessary and so worth it in the end.  They are trying to break these guys down by randomly imposing solitary confinement on them and making it nearly impossible for them to see visitors.   But we won’t let the games they play keep us from supporting our comrades.

We will not forget them.  We will not waver in our support, no matter what they do to discourage us.  Our strength lies in our solidarity.

To learn more about the NATO 5 and our jail solidarity efforts, visit http://nato5.occupychi.org

To learn more about the Occupy Chicago library’s efforts to coordinate book donations to the NATO 5 or to donate shipping funds, visit http://ochilibrary.wordpress.com/books-for-the-nato-5/

-Rachel Allshiny-

New York, NY–Yesterday afternoon I attended the Workers Rising rally in Union Square. I had visited the ConEd rally a week before, and this time around found a similar scene: handfuls of unions represented by hundreds of people assembled at the northern plaza of the square passing out flyers, embracing one another, and cheering against speakers recounting their struggles.

Last week’s rally had many unions showing solidarity for workers affected by the ConEdison lockout, it being a primary example of injustices against labor workers. This week, ConEd was just one of many targets of the day of action, including a group of delinquent employers such as Toys R Us, JC Penney, Chipotle, Dunkin’ Donuts, Burlington Coat Factory and more. The crowd was diverse, and altogether the mood seemed festive, but not without bite: a banner held high read “Gov Cuomo does not care about union workers,” and some class war rhetoric was tossed around mixed with religious sermons denouncing the powers-that-be as evil—to wild applause and cheers.

After the speakers were finished, energy was cultivated with a short hip-hop performance before the crowd departed the square to march. Most would be marching towards ConEd, and other groups would tackle the other targets along the way. I came to the rally with little information on what was going to happen, so my uninitiated self was confused at first with how the march operated. I had assumed there would be defined separate marches each going to the different targets to picket outside; instead, everyone left in one big march that broke off and divided itself. Just as the march crossed Park Avenue, some continued moving east while others turned to walk south on Park; those moving down Park divided again when some stood outside Babies R Us and others continued on to ConEd. Some seemed confused as I was, and at one point I didn’t know if I was marching or simply walking alongside civilians caught in the shuffle.

I stood with the group outside Babies R Us. Initially the police halted the action to give the familiar rule: do not take up more than half the sidewalk. We tried to spread out but the group admittedly did spread across the whole sidewalk, and police seemed not to care after all and let the action continue. A member of the clergy blessed the store of its bad karma, a funny sight as customers continued to enter and exit the place. After this, we backtracked north and onto 16^th Street, assembling outside the NYC Human Resources building. There were maybe 50 of us here, a line of civilians across the street standing or sitting on the sidewalk watching to see what was up. I noticed on nearby Irving Place a cavalcade of protesters moving south towards 15^th Street. I was eager to follow the action, so I scurried over that way.

Here’s where the party was: an estimated 4,000 people assembled (according to a Twitter update) on the west sidewalk blowing horns, playing music, chatting and cheering alongside ConEd’s locked out workers. There was a series of barricades: a line of them in the street, allowing protesters some space in the street, and another in the sidewalk to facilitate pedestrian traffic. Funnily enough, as we stood together in this moment of solidarity, a large line of civilians stood packed against us waiting for a show at Irving Plaza.

Again, the police were being lenient in this permitted action. Every so often one or two protesters would walk down the street just to be there, enjoying applause from us on the other side as they walked by, but the police didn’t care as much as I’ve seen on Occupy-related marches, in which literally one wrong step is enough to put you in a jail cell for the night. Eventually police tightened up the barricades, but as a few entered the streets—and I’m surprised so few did—there remained no conflict between the people and the police.

Once 7pm came around, the permit was up and many dispersed quickly. One protester went in the street and yelled “Let’s go! Time to go home!” to encourage people to leave before there could be any conflict. It was weird to hear fiery language at both rallies only to find protesters reticent to be daring in their actions; within the span of 10 minutes maybe half the people who were there had left. I crossed 15^th Street only to find a whole other section of the action between 15^th & 14^th (I stood between 15^th & 16^th the whole time), where there was a big push for noisemaking before closing the action. On my way out, rounding the corner on 14^th, I was happy to see a large group picketing outside Chipotle. And then I went on my way.

- Joe Sutton -