Photo by Ross Terelle, Megacast News

“Looks like food’s not the problem in Staten Island,” I say. Photographer Ross Terelle and I walk through dark streets lined with great mounds of garbage that used to be people’s lives. It’s a week after Hurricane Sandy hit. Most of the people we’ve met along the way have been trying to give food to us and to each other: “You guys need some hot coffee?” “We got pasta, you guys hungry? You seen anybody who needs some hot food?” “Pizza anybody? It’s still kinda warm.”

We pass a man standing in the doorway of a house that God must have punched, on Hunter Avenue. I ask him what happened and his story spills out in Spanish-inflected English—a messy narrative interrupted from time to time by people begging to give us food. His name is Alfredo Zapata. During Irene last year, the water level only rose a couple of feet, so he decided to stick it out. He put boots on and sloshed through knee-high water with his neighbor, surveying, protecting his house from the thieves who work disaster areas. This year they did the same but the results were different. Zapata and his neighbor barely made it to his house. They shut the door and then watched in terror as the water surged through his neighborhood. Wave after wave—he called them tsunamis—brought the water to within six inches of his ceiling, where it stagnated for a day, leaving a brown ring of grime to mark an astonishing high water mark.

“That’s got to be twelve feet,” says Terelle.

“At least,” I say.

Zapata invites us in. His house is empty; he lost everything. The floor is a layer of brown filth and foam, the walls are grimy, the framing shows through where the drywall has crumbled away, and the walls that remains are soft to the touch. The smell of mold and rot is overpowering. A young couple comes to the door and poke their heads in. “We have hot coffee and hot chocolate. Anybody?”

Zapata graciously declines and sends them on their way. When they are gone, he points to a green sticker on the door. An inspector came and told him his house was habitable. “He looked in and said, ‘Uh, well, you can live here.’” He imitates the inspector’s voice with a generous dose of idiot. “’Well, maybe dry it and you can sleep here. I’m going to put a green sticker on your door saying you can live here.’ Come on! You think a child could live here?” Terelle and I shake our heads. He snaps pictures. I don’t think a prisoner should live in this place.

“This is the same story for all my neighbors,” says Zapata. “They’re complaining. They say the government forgot us. They’re helping Long Island, Brooklyn, Manhattan. This is not Staten Island, this is Forgotten Island.” In the distance a sound like the Muslim call to prayer, but muffled, echos through the neighborhood. It’s a truck with a bullhorn: “We…have…food. We…have…water.” “We…have…food. We…have…water.” It could be something official—NYPD, Red Cross, FEMA—or it could be a local church or a youth group or volunteer firefighters or bunch of friends who feel guilty for being warm. The Occupy movement has been ferrying food and supplies to the hardest hit areas. But nobody has come by handing out lawyers or a warm place for Zapata’s family to live. I imagine he would line up for that truck.

He tells us some of the Staten Island deaths occurred within a stone’s throw of his house. The neighbor who died trying to save her dog. Two children drowned down the road. A couple in the house on the corner. And there could be more. He worries about the illegals hiding from the authorities; people waiting in the dark, afraid to light candles or turn on generators for fear of being expelled from Forgotten Island. We thank Zapata and wish him luck—both come out hollow—and leave him standing in his doorway thanking-but-no-thanking people, waiting for his insurance company to call him back. Back on the street, we walk gingerly around piles of busted dreams towards the safety of the Midland Beach Distribution Center.

Bruno, one of Bidawee's dogs looking for a home

Bideawee, an animal welfare organization that has been helping pets find homes for over a century in New York and Long Island, is struggling to recover from the damage of Hurricane Sandy.

From Bidawee’s website:

Despite all of the prior planning and precautions for Hurricane Sandy, we will be feeling the impact of this historical storm for a very long time. Bideawee in Manhattan has been on the edge of the East River for more than 100 years and suffered heavy flooding when the storm surge pushed the river over its banks. The rush of water swamped the isolation units and holding areas and destroyed the elevator that is used to transport animals from the adoption center to the animal hospital to receive their life-saving medical care. Due to this damage, Bideawee is still not open in Manhattan and can’t serve the needs of the animals and people that rely on us. 

Checkers the cat

Thankfully, all of the animals were evacuated safely to our Wantagh facility on Long Island that has been relying on generator power since the storm first hit metropolitan New York. Our dedicated staff was working around the clock with the aid of the generator until it failed after 11 straight days of use. Undeterred, the staff continues to care for the animals by using flashlights and extra blankets, ensuring the health and safety of every animal in our care. We are working to secure a large portable generator, but as you can imagine in the midst of all the destruction generators are in very short supply. 

To help the recovery efforts at Bideawee, you can donate through their website here. The adorable puppies and kittens will thank you.

Lenox Hospital held its annual Autumn Ball on Monday evening, only this time the money raised did not benefit the hospital itself, but its employees. North Shore LIJ Health System announced last week that proceeds from the fundraising gala, which was held at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in Midtown, would be donated to the health system’s newly established Emergency Employee Resource Center, an initiative created to assist employees whose families and homes were harmed by Hurricane Sandy.

“We as a health system can take great pride in how we responded during the storm,” said North Shore-LIJ President and CEO Michael Dowling. “Our ability to meet the needs of communities we serve throughout New York City and Long Island and assist other New York area hospitals in distress was nothing short of remarkable. While Sandy has passed, much work remains. That includes taking care of our own employees, who continued to work even though many lost their homes, cars and personal possessions in the storm.”

North Shore-LIJ is a 16-hospital system that employs over 44,000 people in New York City and Long Island. The fundraiser honored Nobel Peace Prize recipient Elie Wiesel and included a performance by singer Cyndi Lauper.

HALLOWEEN SURVIVES IN EVACUATION ZONE

Flood damage was not the only scary thing last Wednesday at the Stanley M. Isaacs Houses, a public housing complex along the East River at East 93rd Street. A bunch of ghosts and goblins were out, too, with their parents and big bags of candy.

Despite a mandatory evacuation notice from the New York City Housing Authority before Hurricane Sandy, many residents stayed in their homes after heat and elevators were shut down. Uprooted trees and debris-ridden streets made Halloween look unlikely, but parents in the buildings decided to let their children enjoy the holiday nonetheless.

“It’s good for the kids,” resident Patrick Fraser told NY City Lens. “They don’t need to worry about what’s going on in the world right now.”

Parents walked door to door with kids whose costumes included witches, fairies, Batman, Spider-Man and a bumblebee. Elsewhere in the city, many Halloween happenings were canceled, including the Village’s annual Halloween Parade, the largest public Halloween event in the country.

LOCAL MAN SAVES TAXI DRIVER FROM DROWNING

Jon Candelaria braved Hurricane Sandy last week to pull a taxi driver out of rushing floodwater. The 25-year-old was sipping coffee in his family’s Upper East Side apartment on Monday during the storm when he saw an SUV taxi driving in water on a closed street. A sudden surge lifted the vehicle, then pulled it into deep water.

“I acted on a reaction. I didn’t think of my well-being,” he told CNN of his heroic feat that followed. He rushed outside into waist-high water wearing basketball shorts and a jacket and waded to the vehicle. Wind, water and a rapid loss of strength prevented him from opening the SUV’s door at first, but he told the driver that they were going to work together, and they managed to open the door on the count of three.

“As soon as I got to three, the wind just stopped for that one second,” Candelaria told CNN. “It was like something from a movie.”

The driver left the scene without identifying himself. The rescue was captured from above, though, on a nearby security camera.

“At the end of the day, it wasn’t about what I was getting in return,” Candelaria said after joking with CNN that he should be granted unlimited cab rides in the city. “I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. If I knew that this was going on in front of me, I would have done it for anyone.”

Midland Beach, New Dorp, Tottenville—these are neighborhoods few West Siders had ever visited, or perhaps even heard of, until last week. Few of us will ever forget them now—and not only for the suffering and devastation wrought by Hurricane Sandy. We will remember because we made their names, along with Far Rockaway and Coney Island, our own.

The first few days reminded me of the immediate aftermath of 9/11. Life as we knew it had stopped, and everyone seemed to be in shock. The subway, the city’s lifeline, was crippled. We couldn’t get to work, or if we did, it was closed. School was out, and so the kids were home. Refugees from lower Manhattan began moving in with friends. Soon there was no bread, and before long, no gas. What we did have was a glut of television images of survivors pleading for help and of damage that seemed to dwarf the capacity of government to respond.

I believe it was in part those images of hungry, dispossessed people and shattered lives that inspired West Siders to do what comes naturally to us: lead, organize, network and donate what’s needed, but especially to give of ourselves. The problems weren’t all far away. Hundreds of people came to our neighborhood shelters seeking care. After a tour of the evacuation centers at IS 118/Joan of Arc School, Brandeis High School and John Jay College, I called Shelly Fine, head of the Upper West Side CERT (Community Emergency Response Team) and he went into action, finding volunteers, locating dry clothing, delivering food and even getting sponsorship for a hotel room for two disabled seniors.

And then there were the donations of food, clothing and bedding that poured in from every part of the community. Members of the JCC of Manhattan were generous with contributions, and their lobby quickly filled. They found cars with gas and drove to where the need was. But then all West Siders wanted to donate, and they brought more supplies to JCC, so my office working with City Council colleagues in devastated communities organized truckloads to go to Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island and downtown Manhattan. At the same time, a shout-out on Facebook for contributions to be dropped off at the Firehouse Restaurant brought supplies and a line of people to load them into trucks bound for the Rockaways. The Fourth Universalist Society collected donations and working with Congregation Rodeph Sholom brought them to Staten Island and the Rockaways. Congregation Ohab Zedek, Lincoln Square Synagogue, Advent Lutheran Church, Community Free Democrats and Congregation B’nai Jeshurun did the same, and there are more.

Fairway and Fresh Direct donated food, as did Carmine’s and the New York Hospitality Alliance, and trucks from the City of NY as well as Mel Wymore made deliveries. Bike and Roll is now doing the same.

We used social media to tell West Siders how they could volunteer. They went on Council-sponsored buses and on their own to clean up homes, visit seniors on high floors and give out supplies. When they were told that blankets, not clothes, were needed, they took it in stride and donated to the Salvation Army. Members of our local NYPD volunteered in their off hours. Staff at LaGuardia High School, where students come from all over, identified those families who no longer had a home, and found apartments and funded clothing and new books.

Riverside Park suffered serious flooding and tree loss, and the docks at the boat basin were damaged—luckily, everyone had evacuated. Riverside Park belongs to the West Side, and once word went out that it needed help, volunteers poured in: Community School District 3 families, Manhattan New York Temple of the Church of Latter Day Saints, teens from Congregation B’nai Jeshurun, Hippo Playground families, gardeners, bicyclists, runners and neighbors—more than 1,000 people swept the park clean of debris and leaves from Riverside South to the “Great Gray Bridge.”

West Siders want to continue their support of the post Hurricane Sandy efforts, but they also want to know what are the lessons learned and what changes should be made to our infrastructure in the near future.

Gale Brewer is the City Council Member representing District 6, which includes the Upper West Side and Clinton.

Hurricane Sandy outdid even the most aggressive projections of its impact on New York. In my district on the East Side of Manhattan, and some of the West 50s, we had severe flooding throughout Zones A and B, power and heat outages that lasted for over a week, and—as if that weren’t bad enough—a crane that hung precariously in Midtown, forcing residents from their homes.

The situation presented an important opportunity for local government to respond. The flooding left thousands of my constituents stranded in their apartments and in need of assistance, particularly in Peter Cooper Village, Stuyvesant Town and Waterside Plaza, home to nearly 30,000 right next to the East River. Residents—who include me and my family—lacked electricity, heat and hot water, and just as dangerously, any telephone service.

Without the ability to call in our out, seniors and residents with limited mobility were cut off from the outside world, with family members who were worried about them.

In response, we set up our volunteer operation starting on Thursday morning, and worked hand in hand with both properties’ management with the goal of knocking on every door in both communities every day until power began to be restored. We put out a call for volunteers; we secured donations of food, blankets, batteries and water with the help of Speaker Quinn’s staff; we set up a volunteer center (and City Council mobile office) in the Stuyvesant Town Community Center and in the Management Office of Waterside Plaza; and we got to work.

It was inspiring to see how many New Yorkers turned out to help, with hundreds of volunteers from New York Cares, religious groups, local tenants associations and many others, including my colleagues in government. We dispatched them door to door, checking on our neighbors, assessing their needs, and then sending volunteers back out immediately with the relevant supplies, to the extent we had them. This continued over several consecutive days, until the power and heat started coming back.

One of the most pressing needs was that of seniors who worried that their prescriptions were running out, and needed immediate refills. In response, we called for local nurses and doctors to arrange health visits for seniors who were trapped—and we had volunteers make runs to fill their prescriptions, and bring them up the dark staircases in the buildings.

We even had a couple of very nice surprises. We had generous donations of food from the Setai Hotel, Riverpark restaurant, which also offered hot coffee in Stuyvesant Oval, and a delivery of hot soup from celebrity chef Rocco DiSpirito, which he had made himself. And we had countless volunteers who pooled their own funds and made emergency runs for supplies, including prescription refills and batteries. A particularly entrepreneurial group of volunteers at Waterside borrowed a shopping cart from a local store and wheeled 300 bottles of water across the FDR for residents at Waterside.

The most incongruous image that sticks out in my mind was 40 members of the Air Force National Guard showing up late on Thursday in the Stuyvesant Town Community Center, in full military fatigues and an army truck, passing boxes of “meals ready to eat” down an assembly line into the center. When they were done, we marched with them with flashlights through the dark and desolate Stuyvesant Town and Peter Cooper up to meet their truck in Waterside Plaza, where they did the same thing.

Another image was one that most New Yorkers won’t soon forget: a crane hanging dangerously above Midtown in 90 mph winds, also in my council district. While the City acted swiftly to evacuate hundreds of residents, many left their homes in a hurry, leaving medication, clothing and pets behind. We worked to help these residents gain safe, temporary access to their apartments to retrieve the items they needed. I’m happy to report that as of Monday night, the crane was secured and all residents in the West 50s who had been evacuated were allowed to return home.

While the communities in my district are slowly getting back to life as usual, there are still large parts of the city that are not so lucky. If you are able to get out to Staten Island or the hard-hit areas in Brooklyn and Queens, I strongly encourage you to lend a hand there.

Dan Garodnick is the City Council Member for District 4 on the Upper East Side.

A tree blocks two lanes of traffic on Bedford Avenue at Avenue T in Brooklyn.

Their offices were flooded, their phones were down and the power has been out, but that hasn’t stopped lawmakers in Zone A from helping their constituents.