City Limits

Joseph Tiraco

The tug-of-war over airport rail access took center stage at the City Council field hearing recently held in the Rockaways. Animated proponents for reactivation of the LIRR Rockaway Beach Line overpowered Port Authority officials attempting to defend the all but dead but not yet buried Van Wyck Expressway plan. Conspicuously absent was the Queensborough President, discretely out of splattering range while volatile chemicals vociferously brewed in her Queens caldron.

The Rockaway peninsula, a New York City jewel, has suffered at the hands of politicians much as did her Brooklyn sister, Coney Island. While the dynamics between the two are dissimilar, the root cause of their suffering is identical; both are seaside resorts, expanding beyond their native populations in season, hence they are seen as domiciles for transients, and transient is another name for political victim. At Coney Island, Seagate's homeowners walled themselves in, hired a private police force, and divorced themselves from the island's politics; a once vibrant Italian-American community slowly withdrew over the Cropsey Avenue bridges into Bensonherst leaving behind a crime ridden welfare ghetto, government's human dumping ground. In contrast, the Rockaways has withstood the test of time; deep rooted communities stand like bulwarks in the surf that pounds their shore; conquering the dictates of time by adapting to waves of sun worshipers washing over the sands in seasonable rhythms. But the government policy of maintaining bridge tolls and a faithful decision in the early 1960s severing a mass transit artery running to the city's heart have left deep scars on the Rockaway community. The City Council's decision to poke at the raw nerve was bound to evoke a howl.

The Port Authority, a regional organ expected to produce engineering marvels with mundane regularity, has, like any consortium of genius and artistry, an abundance of vision, and very little common sense. A previous effort by the Port Authority to develop a rail link to Kennedy Airport using the Rockaway Beach Line right of way was shot down by communities because local usage was excluded from the plan; the railway was to be a pipeline directly from Manhattan to the airports with no stations along the way, no service was planned for the Queens communities. Years latter, the same plan, with a monorail hung on it, is reintroduced to a geographical location about a mile east of the old route, and not unexpectedly, receives a well deserved tongue lashing. Instead of absorbing the lessons imparted on their first attempt, and returning, arms loaded with engineering and architectural goodies to entice community participation, the Port Authority, eschewing the labors of a new plan, prostitutes itself chasing some elusive pot of political gold - a characteristically artistic thing to do. In an age where computer engineers work at the micron level, and NASA plans the planetary engineering of Mars to make it habitable, the Port Authority, one of the worlds preeminent engineering organizations, is baffled by a scheme to reopen three miles of urban railroad track. They are sorely in need of new leadership to focus their powerful minds

About midway along the Rockaway Beach Line, between Manhattan and the Rockaways, where the Forest Hills station once stood, lies a large parcel of railroad land presently being eyed, to the chagrin of local homeowners, for a Home Depot shopping mall. The people of Forest Hills and Glendale love their communities, and passionately defend their homes and values no less then do Rockaway residents. The so called, Northern Communities were once instrumental in preventing the line from becoming the Kennedy Airport rail link for much the same reason that Rockaway residents now oppose the Van Wyck plan - no local service. There are mumbles and grumbles here about "no way" and "just try it again and see what happens," but these are knee jerk reactions, rash words uttered without introspection, or regard for the community at large. When the options are explored with due deliberation, a quick ride into Manhattan and a gentler use for the railroad property is far preferable to the disharmony and community degradation inherent in the shopping mall plan. Talk about building tunnels to go under... and elevated structures to go over... and curves to go around... is counterproductive at best. In the end, the tolerance of the communities effected for such things as tearing up Forest Park, and running trains through backyards is directly dependent on the quality of life changes the modifications will bring. Self interest is the key, if the interest of local property owners is advanced, then the railroad will reopen. For certain, the prospect of a railroad just to carry shopping mall passengers so that fat cats can get richer at the expense of local homeowners holds no allure. Of course, if megastore encroachment on railroad property continues - the governor has already sold a chunk of railroad property to Home Depot - then this entire discussion is academic, because the right of way will no longer exist. In many respects, Metropolitan Avenue and Rockaway Beach Boulevard intersect at the railroad crossing.

The politicians seated around the hearing table were also exercising a strong self interest. The voters have actuated the most sweeping political reform New York City has seen since Peter Stuyvesant left office; it is called, Term Limits, and is presently ticking off the remaining days in office for nearly every politician in the city. Voters in the next citywide election will be presented with an unprecedented phenomenon; a clean slate. This is not just a change of administrations, but a complete change of government, all new people coming into power at once, with no link to the past, no old loyalties or prejudices or lingering vendettas; all the bribes, and contributions amassed to win a single seat in order to tip the delicate political equilibrium in one direction or the other is now a strategy washed away; in short, the old system is dying. With fewer seats at the top, and fierce competition by newcomers at the bottom, the new order resembles a game of Musical Chairs, only this is no kids game, and it is more aptly named, Popularity Chairs, which is what we saw occurring on the stage at P.S.180 Jr. High in the Rockaways - a ritual dance for position in the race for an open Congressional seat. Power is beginning to shift from backroom deal makers to the voters - especially organized voters. And it is more of a new deal then the New Deal for the people of New York City. Hallelujah!