My house stands on Van Duzer Street between Targee Street and Court Street. From the desk where I’m writing this, I can look along Van Duzer toward its intersection with Court Street on the right and Smith Terrace on the left. Van Duzer bends sharply to the left just as those two streets join it, making for an extremely tricky and treacherous curve. Which means that on any rainy day like today (May 22) — indeed, on even a day when heavy mist leaves the asphalt slightly moist and slick — I can sit here and wait confidently for an accident to happen there.
No, I’m not morbidly reliving my own car accident of last summer. I don’t relish the erotics of automotive catastrophe like the characters in J. G. Ballard’s remarkable 1984 novel Crash (made into a memorable film by David Cronenberg in 1996). Nor do I consider myself psychic. This falls into the category of safe bet; I’ve not only felt the whump! of the impact dozens of times, even at this distance, and heard the noise of it, but I’ve learned to recognize the particular sound that brakes and tires make here as control is lost, that peculiar squeal announcing that disaster has become inevitable. As karma would have it, that moment usually occurs just as the doomed cars race past my front porch.
When I bought this house, in late 1969, Van Duzer Street was a two-way thoroughfare; and, given that cars could come around that corner unexpectedly from either direction, drivers took this stretch slowly and carefully. Then, a few years later, to alleviate the pressure of rush-hour traffic down on Bay Street, the city’s Department of Transportation in its wisdom turned one section of Van Duzer into a one-way artery heading toward St. George and the ferry terminal, with St. Paul’s Avenue as its counterpart going the other way.
The accident rate on this block went way up almost immediately. What happens follows a predictable pattern. Drivers heading toward St. George learn that there’s no stoplight between the one on Targee at Broad St. and the one at the corner of Van Duzer and Wright St., a block past Court St. So they come roaring up the incline that marks the juncture of Targee and Van Duzer, in order to turn sharply right onto Van Duzer. The D.O.T., recognizing this as a dangerous situation, long ago positioned a blinking yellow light there at the top of that rise, but neither that nor a short metal guard rail has kept cars from plowing regularly into the side of 506 Van Duzer, right on the corner where Targee, Stone, and Van Duzer intersect.
Even when drivers successfully negotiate that corner, swing onto Van Duzer and level off, they’re often going quite fast (or at least have a heavy foot on the gas) as a result of that short but steep uphill climb. Yet they’re just a hundred yards from a corner that — according to warning signs posted right outside my house — they should take at 15 m.p.h. maximum under good conditions. Predictably, when they get to Court St. a few seconds later, they’re not usually observing the suggested speed limit for that turn. And so they often skid and crash.
They don’t often collide with other cars. There’s not a whole lot of pedestrian traffic at that corner, so they rarely endanger people crossing the street or walking around. (Though I refused to buy my son a bike when he was ten — for which, among other sins, he’ll never forgive me — because I knew he’d ride it along this block even if I forbade him to, and I couldn’t take the chance. He had to wait a few years more for his wheels.) Occasionally they jump the guard rail and smash into the fence surrounding the garden apartments on that right-hand corner. And once I saw a Chevy that had somehow vaulted over some heavy protective metal posts and embedded itself in the entranceway and living room of 429 Van Duzer, where it remained for some days as insurance companies sorted the matter out.
People did get hurt in that one. But, in fact, these mishaps rarely seem to injure even the cars’ own drivers. Mostly these heedless and/or hapless types simply careen into the upright metal posts and sheet-metal guard rail that the D.O.T. has installed along that part of the sidewalk. Vehicles hit this with such frequency, and such force, that the sidewalk there is permanently cracked, the heavy uprights are perpetually tilted from multiple impacts, and it’s rare that the guard rail goes a month without one of these fender-benders driving it well into the pedestrian area of the sidewalk, sometimes almost across it and into the fence. Dependably, about once every two months, a D.O.T. crew shows up, repositions the upright stanchions to which the guard rail is attached, replaces the dented rail sections with new ones, and leaves.
Because these accidents mainly do damage only to the drivers’ own cars, they’re not reported much; most people get out of their vehicles, stare at hundreds of dollars’ worth of body work, curse, and either take off again if their ride still runs or call the tow truck if it doesn’t. Hardly ever do the police show up. So there’s little official record of the actual number of accidents that happen at this junction; the closest we have to a formal account would be the D.O.T.’s ledger of replacement orders for those guard rails.
This routine has taken place for some thirty years now, month after month, at the cost of who knows how much avoidable private cost to drivers and how many tax-dollar-subsidized work-hours and guard-rail replacement parts paid for by the city. On the part of the D.O.T., it constitutes what we used to call “made work” — a repetitive task established and unquestioned mainly so that someone can be kept occupied and on the payroll. Yet the problem could be alleviated, perhaps even ended, by employing any of several relatively simple expedients: grooving the asphalt before and around that curve; installing a stop sign on the corner of Van Duzer and Court St.; putting a flashing yellow light there; or going all the way and setting up a stop light there, coordinated with the ones on Wright St. and Beach St. just ahead.
While this situation once had a certain entertainment value, it’s long since grown tedious and repetitive. So I’m trying a little experiment. I’m publishing this account of this phenomenon as an open letter to the Department of Transportation. I’m asking for a full disclosure of the costs of replacing and/or repairing those upright posts and that guard rail, including the time involved and the wages paid for it, since the D.O.T. converted Van Duzer Street to one-way usage back around 1970. I want to see the work orders, to know who’s responsible for deciding to do nothing to improve this. I want a record of all the many dates on which repairs have been made. And I want to see the D.O.T.’s rationale for allowing this hazardous situation to continue for close to thirty years.
After all, President Dubya has declared this an era of accountability. Surely the D.O.T. can’t consider itself exempt from that.
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On a more cheerful note: As previously mentioned, I’ll premiere the live-performance version of Spine, on Friday, June 8th, at 7 p.m., in the garden of the Tibetan Museum, 338 Lighthouse Hill. Admission is free. Spine is a multimedia collaboration with the Finnish photographer Nina Sederholm and the Finnish composer Mikko Hassinen, incorporating my poems and voice. This performance is sponsored by the Council for the Arts and Humanities for Staten Island. Come one, come all
Mr. Coleman:
I myself grew up in Stapleton between the years 1962 and 1973 and was greatly surprised to see your site while surfing the net. Growing up in 597 Van Duzer St., we lived right across the street from Horrmann’s Hill. I was wondering if you know of or can suggest any good books concerning the North Shore and particulary Horrmann’s Hill.
I know exactly what you mean refering to Van Duzer St. being changed from a two-way street to a one-way. Until it was changed I was allowed to cross the street by myself. Once it went from a two-way to a one-way and the cars roaring down St. Paul’s Avenue, that little bit of freedom was not permitted anymore.
Thanks for your time — and you do have a great site.