Canal Street near Broadway at 8:58 p.m.
With unrest across river, a quiet
curfew tension hung over the
empty streets of Manhattan
BY ALEX MITCHELL
As protesting, chaos and
a nearly fatal attack on
police ensued on the
streets of Brooklyn on the night
of June 3, the isle of Manhattan
told a different, more eerie story
during the curfew.
After seven days of the ongoing
outrage followed by some arrests
for those out past curfew in large
congregations, much of Manhattan
became a canyon that only
echoed very little.
One of my fi rst stops last night
in the post-curfew city was Canal
Street near Broadway, where no
less than 24 hours earlier I had
seen a fi re that was started, an
upwards of eight looters leap over
shattered glass of a Verizon store
window while sprinting away
from oncoming police, along with
other instances of massive chaos
that couldn’t be described, but
only seen.
Then the rain came down.
Being the sports fan that I
am, it’s only natural to believe in
omens — and in that dark night
this sign was clear as day. The
sirens stopped and the helicopters
fl ew elsewhere after the roughly
20-30 minute deluge as then
the confusing, anxious sense of
lifelessness began to set in.
Driving around Manhattan
under those circumstances truly
felt a little bit like Grand Theft
Auto IV — you could do a lap
around the island in a matter of
minutes, there were always police
in the vicinity, and to be blunt,
you only had to quasi obey the
rules of the road.
I pulled over on Sixth Avenue
near West 3rd Street for a moment
Sixth Avenue in the West Village at about 9:20 p.m. on Wednesday,
June 3.
to see if there were reports
of any protests close by. At that
time I looked up, directly seeing
the Empire State Building reilluminated
after being turned off
for a number of days, returning in
a heart-beating, vibrant red before
my very eyes.
Then I moved uptown to Times
Square, where police had blocks
of barriers set up. Some cops
stood watch, though there wasn’t
very much to watch over.
Conversationally, one offi cer
stationed on Times Square’s north
end told me that after everything
that had ensued, this was his most
quiet night on the job.
For whatever reason, seeing
nearby Radio City with its lights
down in the emptiness is when
things began to sink in.
It wasn’t shocking because
you could absorb what you were
seeing, you just couldn’t believe it
was actually happening.
PHOTO BY ALEX MITCHELL
At that point I almost regretted
all the harsh things I’ve said about
tourists who once clogged up that
intersection at West 50th Street
Radio City Music Hall at 9:40 p.m. on Wednesday, June 3.
and Sixth Avenue.
I moved downtown to the
World Trade Center via the West
Side Highway. There was some
noise this time: buses moving,
construction projects loudly being
fulfi lled, even some cars on
the road.
At that time, New York felt
more like its usual hectic self before
the protests and COVID-19.
While I noticed that nobody
was jogging on the West Side
Pier, I also inadvertently stayed at
a green light for some moments,
naturally fl inching while expecting
a barrage of car horns that
never sounded.
I parked easily on West and
Murray Street, getting out to walk
around for a little bit.
While photographing the
World Trade Center up close,
I instinctively jumped out of a
PHOTO BY ALEX MITCHELL
bicycle lane I was standing in like
that of a basketball player about to
commit a three second violation.
No bicycles were coming.
At this point in time, I felt some
guilt to having Manhattan to myself
in such a way, given what had
been going on and behind Brookfi
eld Place is where this entirely
strange sensation had reached a
new level for me.
The Hudson River was more
still than I had ever seen or heard
it — even on its most ordinarily
quiet nights the sound of water
crashing into the concrete sea
wall was always audible.
That night the water could not
be heard.
I remember only hearing a
subway train roll beneath me, a
faint reminder that Manhattan’s
heart was still beating.
Then I headed home by way
of the Queensboro Bridge out
to Long Island, taking the FDR
Drive northbound.
I was following what had
been happening in Brooklyn but
couldn’t see a thing besides one
high altitude NYPD chopper
north of the Brooklyn Bridge,
which had its iconic fl ag wrapped
completely around the pole it is
hoisted from.
I stopped at Hunters Point
quickly just to look in at Manhattan
one more time. The quiet
tension hanging over the empty
island streets was one I hope not
to experience again.
PHOTO BY ALEX MITCHELL
Times Square at 9:32 p.m. on Wednesday, June 3.
4 June 11, 2020 Schneps Media