E G O S P E W

South Bronx Portrait 1976, originally uploaded by LlewellynL.

Back when I was driving a Checker, a fare took me to the South Bronx. The only tip they gave me was: “Get the hell out of The Bronx!”
Just kidding. I never had a problem in The Bronx. Any real grief I met in Manhattan.

1976 was smack dab in the middle of the arson epidemic that devastated much of the South Bronx, destroying neighborhoods. At the time, it didn’t feel at all like the cleansing process of a forest fire that would prepare the land for fresh growth and renewal. No, it felt like the beginning of the downward spiral to hell, and the ultimate collapse of civilization for many poor families. It is still debated what conspired to bring on those dire times, which included the near bankruptcy of New York City and seemingly the entire country telling us to drop dead — not to mention, disco. Robert Moses, John Lindsay, Abe Beame, Nelson Rockefeller, and crack cocaine have all been blamed. Oh, and John Travolta.

This was taken with my trusty Nikon F2 and fuzzy Vivitar 24mm, which I’d hide under the seat like a revolver. Driving that cab I’d end up in some crazy corners of the city at truly surreal times. Over the months, I drove three different shifts: evening (4PM – 6AM), morning (6AM – 4PM) and, my favorite, graveyard (midnight to whenever). When I was starting out, an actor friend of mine who’d already been hacking for a few months took my Hagstrom map and literally redlined the neighborhoods he said I should steer clear of if I planned to remain alive. He flipped through Brooklyn and drew lines around Bed-Stuy and East New York. When he got to the Bronx, the blocks in the picture above were targeted. As it turned out, I didn’t play that game and if I ended up in a sketchy neighborhood, I still cruised out of it, On Duty, with the roof light on, never turning down a fare. (You always drove back to where the most fares were, usually Manhattan. But it was better to drive there with a paying customer in the back seat. Scaredy-cats would flip on their Off Duty sign and speed to the nearest bridge. Those were the guys with the lousy empty-to-paid miles ratios, that the meters kept careful track of.) Sure, I was nervous sometimes and kept my wits about me. You always make a judgment call as you approach a hail waving at you down the block. I just didn’t figure any of them for murderers. As it turned out, I was neither murdered nor robbed nor even had a no-pay walkout.

Back then, I processed the color-neg film with reusable chemicals made by Photocolor. I was poor, young, and foolish. (Hey, I was driving a cab to stay alive!) This neg looked like it’s been around the block and the color shifts and dust are horrific. Photoshop is fantastic but it can’t work miracles.

Here’s a tip for you: Old chemicals, expired film, cheap paper, and corner cutting all lead to heartbreak. A lot of my negatives are beyond rescuing, or worse, DOA (dead on archival). Modern corollary: Shoot raw, edit PSD copies (not JPEGs), back up your digital image files daily, off site. . .but maybe not in The Bronx.