If you've ever gone to tenant meetings in low-income Black & Brown neighborhoods, you know that one of the most frequent complaints is low or no heat. Often coupled with broken windows.
The investors who own these properties lavish $$$$ on politicians instead of on repairs.
The amazing inspectors @NYCHousing do an incredible job of following up on these complaints, btw. But it's a neverending battle—for slumlords, paying fines & buying politicians is almost always cheaper than doing actual repairs.
Correction: the pic on the top left is Reliant Group, NOT Reliant Realty Services (yes, two different realty groups, both specializing in multifamily affordable housing, with almost exactly the same name). The other three screenshots, however, are the Reliant in question. Whew
For background on affordable housing in the Bronx, read this superb piece by the great Eileen Markey—just posted today: newrepublic.com/article/164915…
More on buildings like this, from Eileen's excellent piece. This tragedy was so predictable:
1998: "They would not have died if they had stayed in their apartments."
—then-NYC mayor Rudolph Giuliani, blaming the victims of a high-rise inferno for [checks notes] dying
Thanks to @dmsouthasia for digging up the archives on this 1998 fire, which he covered back in his salad days as one of @Newsday's inkstained wretches
Friends, if you want to help the people displaced by this fire, here's a Google doc with a list of groups and ways to help: docs.google.com/document/d/1-d…
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I'm trying to imagine the giant disinformation fatbergs lurking on Facebook in Brazil, Saudia Arabia, the Philippines, Mexico, Russia, & whew I could go on & on.
Rappler & Novaya Gazeta just won a Nobel for this kind of reporting. At least include /them/? If not all of us?
Here's one reason why this matters:
Facebook has been pouring millions of dollars—up to a billion, according to this—into local & international journalism: thewrap.com/campbell-brown…
Don't get me wrong: I love Beirut. I've lived there for longer than I've lived anywhere else on earth.
But what happened in Beirut last week is profoundly not my story.
I didn't grow up there. I'm not from there. Unlike a lot of my friends from there—
(and btw I don't say "Lebanese friends," because Beirut is full of Syrians, Palestinians, refugees & residents & citizens & other statuses, up to & including stateless; migrant workers from many different countries; & all kinds of other folks, many of whom need help right now)
True story: One of my oldest friends joined the NYPD. I've known him since I was a baby. We went to daycare together. He taught me my first bad word, asshole, a formative moment. He was like a big brother.
His anti-bike hysteria is a big part of why we're not friends any more.
The last time I called him, maybe two years ago, he launched into an unhinged, Giuliani-style rant against bicycles. Not for the first time. It was like one of those uncomfortable scenes in Taxi Driver where Travis Bickle is losing it & everyone else is kind of edging away.
This is someone who started out as a decent guy—kinda f**ked up, like all of us, but not a hater. He entered the Police Academy the same year I entered grad school in journalism. We used to joke about this. Over the years, as the job slowly destroyed him, it stopped being funny.