Author Archive

An NYC High Schooler’s Bomb Recipe

Written by C.J. Sullivan on June 20, 2000. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

Mike Fandal had sent the notebook to me. I’ve written about Fandal before. He’s a former cop who went on to a career as a clown under the name "Ernest Desire." As a clown, he used a toilet plunger on his head for a prop. So in 1997, when police officer Justin Volpe rammed a
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A Juvenile Delinquent Revisited

Written by C.J. Sullivan on June 6, 2000. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

"C.O., how could you forget me? Well, it’s been a while. I’m Mitchell, from Family Court." Then I remembered who he was. I’d known him when he was a cherubic juvenile delinquent who’d had to make various appearances in Family Court, back in the early 1990s when I worked as a court officer in that
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Union Men and Irishmen: Remembering Labor Hero Mike Quill

Written by C.J. Sullivan on May 16, 2000. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

A man named Larry Hanley said this to a group of scowling just-off-the-boat Irishmen recently at Rocky Sullivan’s Bar at Lexington Ave. and 29th St. Hanley chuckled, rubbed his beard and downed a shot. He wasn’t done with the Irish guys yet. He’d taken issue with them because they’d heckled Terry Golway, who’d been reading
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Reclaiming a Bronx Widow’s Small Fortune

Written by C.J. Sullivan on April 25, 2000. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

"What is this?" she asked. "It’s a bankbook." She eyed the book with a disdain born of years of civil service lassitude. "This thing is old," she said. I gave her an eager smile. You want something done by an underpaid clerk, you better be nice. I said in a chipper voice: "Well, yes, it
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Opening Day Ghosts

Written by C.J. Sullivan on April 4, 2000. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

With the barrel of the gun following him, the bartender meekly complied, opening the cash register and dumping it out on the wooden bar. The gunman scooped up the dollars and stuffed them into his pocket. He backed out of the bar and then ran out into the street. The bartender called the local precinct
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The Return of the Thursday Night Fights

Written by C.J. Sullivan on March 28, 2000. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

I worked my way up to the front row as the third fight was in progress and took my ringside seat next to boxing writers as old as dirt. One had a cane, another a neck brace. A few seats down I eyed Michael Katz from the Daily News, who was wearing a cabdriver’s cap
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The Diallo Aftermath

Written by C.J. Sullivan on March 7, 2000. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

It was a typical New York conversation. Before I could shake my head no she’d read the blankness in my eyes and knew I hadn’t heard. "All four cops–not guilty." "What?" I don’t shock easily, but this staggered me. I could almost feel my legs buckling. I’d figured that Kenneth Boss and Richard Murphy would
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The Diallo Cops on Trial: 41 Shots Is Too Many

Written by C.J. Sullivan on February 22, 2000. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

"Hey, asshole, you just missed my car," the beefy white guy hollered. "Why don’t you slow down, you idiot?" He stepped out of his car, but went no further. "Don’t call me an asshole," the Hispanic guy shouted back. "You piece of white trash. You the asshole." He opened his door, but also stayed where
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A Mysterious Homeless Violinist

Written by C.J. Sullivan on February 15, 2000. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

A homeless man. With a business card. And a webpage. Here’s the backstory of how I met the homeless Internet user. Last summer I used to take long walks in Central Park, pushing my toddler twin girls in their stroller. We’d usually end our journey in front of the Tavern on the Green, because my
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Tell The Truth About Diallo

Written by C.J. Sullivan on February 8, 2000. Posted in Breaking News, Posts

That rarely happens when it comes to victims of horrible violence. Lazy journalists will opt for the tired cliches: "honor student," "the hard-working father of three" and so on. But people are more complicated than that. There was more to Diallo’s story than his post-mortem image as a hard-working street vendor and devout Muslim–the image
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