Hi guys ~

So, today  was  court day  ‘numero  dos’  out of the three  summons I’ve been issued thus  far for singing in the NYC  Subways. This one was from three months or so ago and the reason it  was issued  was a random, “Blocking Pedestrian  Flow of  Traffic” This was  from  the cop,  Officer  Chin, who needed to give someones a  summons so he wouldn’t get his ‘hiney’  kicked  by that  same  Amazonian  supervisor  they all  seem to be terrified of. I’m  certainly saving a whole lotta cops  butts these days  with all these tickets!

I had to be at the 54th st  Precinct/Community Court  building at  the inhuman  (for a musician) hour of 9:oo AM. That felt like the toughest  part honestly. Well, it was the  toughest part until I  saw the line of  people, that snaked  down the block and I  was told to  stand in it in the 90  degree heat underneath the blazing sun ’till whenever…  I love the heat, but  I gotta say, we  were  hurting out there. It was  beyond  hot. Today was one of our first  ‘heat  advisory’ days in NYC and here were  50 or so people  being told to stand in it indefinitely with no shade or cover or water whatsoever.  Every time  someone  would step out of  line to rest from  the sun in the shade of a building or parked  truck the cop in the doorway  would  yell out “Get back in line.  You all have to stay in line or else  we  wont’ know what order you all came in.  So stay in line and stop wandering off”  This  was  gonna be a long morning, I could  tell already.

After about 45 minutes of  the heat, the line and listening to a  gazillion  conversations  in  every language  except  English,  I  was  finally allowed in, I  assumed to go into the court room.  Ha, if life were  just that easy. I  went  to the security area  where  the  metal  detector  stood, the cop at the desk  took my  summons and said; “What are you here for?”

“Singing” I  replied

“Ok,  go  back  outside and we’ll  call you when we  have  room.  The  courtroom is  full right now” Seriously? Back outside to  stand in the heat again? Come on NYC, you jut have to stop issuing so many summons that you don’t have room to  deal  w/  us all.

I went back  outside and since I  was no longer required to be in ‘line formation’ I looked  around  for some  shade.  I  spotted a line of  shade  created by a small overhang on the courthouse,  stepped up to it and stood under it along  with four or five  other ‘offenders’ lined up like pigeons on a stoop.

A small raggedy white  guy, one of the few out there who spoke  English said; “So, what are you doing here? What  did they get you for?”

“Singing” I replied once again, feeling as we  should all just be  wearing  t-shirts  w/ our  accused  offense on it to make things  simpler. “How  about you?”

“Oh,  riding my bike” the  disheveled  guy  replied

“Riding your bike.  Really?  Where were you riding your  bike that they ticketed  you?”

“Riverside  Drive” the guy responded and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper that matched his ragged  style perfectly in it’s  disheveldness. “See, I  drew a map to show the judge. There’s no  reason you can’t  ride  there, see?” and he pointed to his hand drawn map on crumpled white  lined paper that was  surprisingly clear. I knew  exactly where he had gotten stopped and  it made no sense, it’s a park and he  was on a bike. “It’s just  money for the city”  the tousled  guy said  as  he wadded  his ‘ map’ back  up and stuffed it in his pocket. “I  don’t  get it. All this  time and  effort  ’cause I  was  riding my bike”

“Yeah, seems like a lot of nonsense  to me” I  agreed as I  looked  around at the crowd that had  grown and now included not only our  United Nations of  ‘offenders’  but now included  a  few mothers  with their  children,  old men and women in wheel chairs, a blind  man  with his  guide and  a woman with her wheelchair-bound son  who had  cerebral palsy.  For the life of me  I  couldn’t figure out what  some  of  these people could have possibly  done to  provoke  being  given a summons.  But what do I know about running a city…

Just  then one of the groups of people who had  gone in prior  to me  came out  en mass, all with matching  bright orange  plastic  vests on reading “NYC COMMUNITY CLEANUP” In their hands  they each  carried a  tool or a bucket full of  what I guess  was  paint.  Oh my God,  seriously they make  you  do manual labour  for city if you go in there?  I thought as I  watched  the group of men and women  lug  huge 5 gallon  buckets of paint, paint  rollers on long handles, street brooms and  buckets with cleaning supplies in them  down the courthouse  steps. They wandered out, slow  moving and  slightly stunned looking, parked their newly acquired accessories on the  sidewalk and waited in the sun.

Community Service NYC-Style

I  wondered as I looked at the group of about a dozen women and  men, what  they had done to be put to work like that  for the  city. I leaned  back on the  brick of the  building and tried to  stay cool  while I pondered  the possibilities and  prayed to God singing was  not one of the offenses included in the “Community Clean Up” program. Just then  I heard my name “Heidi Kole, Heidi Kole”

“Yes” I  perked up hoping this process might be  finally moving along.

“You can go in now and go through the metal detector”  Yay! I’ve never been so happy to have  someone  rummage  through my belongings and walk through a metal detector in my life. I was just so  grateful to be in the air conditioning and feel like things were moving.

I passed  the metal and ‘what’s in your bag’ test with flying  colours and took a seat  in the all-to-familiar  courtroom filled, per  usual, with every race, height, weight, gender…every type of person you an imagine. I sat there along  with everyone else for a  good  hour I guess, listening to case after  case; shop lifting,  aggressive panhandling, possession of drugs, prostitution, robbery etc.  As the people  went up one  by one I noticed  the judge  looked  oddly familiar. A relatively elderly man, not too  tall, white with wire-rimmed glasses with his judge robe haphazardly oddly slung on his somewhat small torso. He had a curiously centered air about him given  the rest of that energy in that room. I wondered to myself, have  I sung to him at  one point underground or was he the judge I saw  last time for the  summons  entitled “Unreasonable  Noise”?  Hmmmm…Either way I didn’t get a  bad  feeling from  the  guy, actually the opposite  wafted over me, like I knew him somehow. Odd, right? Just  then “Heidi Kole? Heidi Kole?”  my name  was  called again, followed by that tell  tale question-mark the pro-bono  lawyers always tack onto a name when  scanning a courtroom waiting area  for the next  client they have never  before seen in their lives and are about to represent.

“I’m here” I stood up and  inched my way out the rows of  wooden  benches we were  all sitting  on like  school children and  followed the thin,  super pale, almost  translucent  Jewish guy in  his  mid  thirties with a blue-black Yam-aka  perched atop his head, up  some  steps to a small landing that quickly  became  his ‘office’.

“So, Heidi”  he  started in, what’s probably going to happen is the judge will dismiss this but it will not  take effect for  90  days and in that 90 days you’ll be asked to go to a day of”Quality Of Life Training”  at a later date.

“You mean this case will be open for another three months  and I’ll have to go to Quality of  Life Training  on top  of that?” Oh no no no  was  running  fast through my head. You  are not ruining another three months of  my life  with more  of this stuff and I piped up.  “But I didn’t do  anything…” I said as visions of the orange pinnies and 5  gallon paint buckets  flashed  through my head.  And I pulled out my stack of papers I’d  brought with me ‘just in case’. “First of all, the  cop, Officer Chin said he only gave me a summons because he had to give one to someone  or  else he would  get in trouble from his  supervisor,  see, here’s the complaint  I filed with the city, it’s all there in detail” And I handed my papers to the skinny, pale  lawyer  with the Yamaka perched on his head. “Also, I’m a MUNY member and  here, here’s the  rules, the law on music in the subway, I’m allowed to sing, see? ” and I pointed to the rules outlined by the group City Lore that support our First  Amendment  right to  make music in the NYC Subways.

“But you see…” The ghost-white almost-a-man,  who I swore  was gonna disappear any minute into a pile of  white  gossamer dust in front of my eyes,  said, “You see, you were not given a summons for singing but for blocking the  flow of …”

“I know, I know what he wrote it for, but look at why he wrote it…”  and I pointed to the detailed  letter of  complaint  I ‘d sent the prior month to the police  department about the incident. “See, he said to me he had to give me a summons but I could keep on playing. That it  was just bullshit and he  only did it  to save his job” Then there was a silence during which all I saw was the top of that Yam-aka as  the ghostly-white lawyer leaned over and  perused my documents.

“Ok,  I’ll bring this up to he judge then”  he said. Ok, that’s not sounding very convincing Casper, I thought  to myself , but  decided to deal with part one later.

“Oh, and one more thing…” I piped up  quickly fearing he’d vanish and I’d not be abler to locate him again

“What’s that?” Casper the friendly lawyer asked

“Well, see I have  another summons, it’s for the same  thing,  well not exactly the same thing, well it’s the same thing just with a different  name on it” And I pulled out the most recent  summons given to me for “Disorderly Conduct”. “See, this one’s  for August and I’m on  tour in  August  and I can’t be here and  there at the  same time, so  do you think the judge  could hear this today as well?”

“No, Heidi, he can’t hear it today because it’s not here yet.  The ticket, it’s not here –  it’s too early”

“But it might be written wrong and he can just  dismiss it.  The cop  said he might have written it  wrong, you know, to help me out ’cause he  didn’t want to write it. Can you at least  check for that and maybe the judge can throw it out today?”

“Sorry Heidi ,  see we need the back  part” and he pointed to the back, white portion of the ticket d’jour; “That’s the only way to tell if the ticket is written incorrectly and  without that we can’t tell a thing  so  you’ll have to ask the guard s on your way out and see if they can give you a postponment form and you can mail that in and see if they’ll postpone it for you”

“Ok” I agreed  reluctantly as the ethereal man ushered me  out of his ‘stair-office’ and  back to my seat on the school-days-wooden benches.

Somehow I didn’t feel safer in his hands at all. It was tough to see a spine through that opalescence of a man. I mulled over asking for another lawyer,  someone who  seemed less wishy – washy  but decided against it as I knew nothing of the  ramifications of that request.  All I knew is that I’d most likely, as it was with the last time in court, have to take  things into my own hands and be my own best  defense. I can do this, I told myself. sure, I can  do this. Just  then  my ‘friend’ the judge decided  to  take a recess.  Crap! I thought as the whole room of us sighed in unison at the thought of  being on those  benches any longer than necessary.

Ok – so the  judge was  off  having coffee so most of us did what we were prohibited from doing  when he was in the room,  drink from  water bottles, text and chat quietly amongst ourselves.  The man next to me, thin & slumped ove in his part of the wooden bench started chatting; “You know it makes no sense, I just asked a person to  swipe their metro card for me an’ here I am in court for panhandlin’ -makes no  sense, no sense at all…” then he paused; “What you in for?”

“Singing”  Again,  I thought the t-shirt idea would be a might handy thing right about now.

“Singin’? a mini shout came out of the mans little  frame, “Singin?  What they get you for  singin’ for?”

“I was  singing in the subways and they ticketed me for that.”

“See, see, that’s just reeee-diculous” the little elf of a man muttered. “You’d think they got  better things to do than to mess with a musician don’t ya?” At which point his cell phone rang and he transferred his attention elsewhere.

After almost 45 minutes of hearing about biking tickets, tickets for asking someone to swipe their metro card for them, tickets for urinating  in the streets,  tickets  for  walking  between train  cars,  sitting in  a park, tickets  for just  about everything you can imagine,  our freindly neighborhood judge returned.  At the  same  time,  from the opposite door  to the judge, in shuffled a smallish  black  man wearing pants and a top in bright primary colours sporting  hand and ankle cuffs  as accessories and surrounded by four  cops.  As the judge  slung his black robe back on in his usual ‘whatever’  way, the brightly clothed,  hand-cuffed  defendant was seated on the front row of the  benches  flanked on either side by a cop.

Man, I wonder what he did, I and probably everyone else  in the room  wondered.  Then some mumbo-jumbo was shared up there by the judge and  the cuffed  man  was brought up to  stand in front of the judge.

“Hey how  come he gits to  go up first?” my ‘bench-neighbor’ leaned over and asked me.

“I don’t know”

“Man, this is gonna take forever  if they keep doin’ this  shit” the metro  card  guy mumbled. “And I’m  thirsty, it don’t make no sense  at all after all that  time outside in that heat that we have to  sit here and  we  can’t even  drink our  water”

That part I agreed  with. None of us were allowed to drink water while in the courtroom,  even the woman with her young child was reprimanded for giving her little  girl something to drink.  That made no sense  at all.  I had to agree  with the accused ‘panhandler’  to my right.

Just  then the cuffed guy was  given his  private words  from the judge and was escorted out.

“Now were back in business”  the skinny metro card dude said under his  breath. “Let’s  get this show on the road” he followed as he nodded to a short Hispanic guy who had just come  from the lawyers  ‘office’ holding not one but  five summons in his hands.  “Woah,  dude you got a pile there,  don’t ya'”  as he grinned to his new buddy who remained  silent,  speaking only through his eyes.  Just then “Heidi, Heidi Kole”  Yay it’s my turn I thought. “Wish me  luck” I said as I turned to my temporary bench-neighbor’ “Good Luck” he  said softly as I  walked up  to the judge.

“Heidi Kole, docket number  one hundred and thirty seven, charged  with “Obstructing the Flow  of Pedestrian Traffic” – I almost gagged as a laugh suddenly surfaced from my stomach at  hearing out loud why I was there. I swallowed the erupting laugh not  desiring to crush my chances before  we  even got  started.

I approached the bench and layed my bright turquoise  blue  bag  down on the floor, hiding it  from view, not wanting to  appear too ‘loud’ in front of the  judge. As I looked up I caught the judges eyes for the first  time and saw he was grinning. He  remembered me! He  remembered me from last year and “Unreasonable Noise” . God, I hope it’s in a good way, please God, make it in a good way I chattered in my head. The  judge continued with his knowing grin,  the kind of grin you’d expect to see if  your best friend were sitting behind the bench and you were both going out for  drinks later on that night. The judge leaned over to his clerk and without even giving our gossamer lawyer a chance to  speak he  said; “Do you mind if I just  dismiss this?” I  guess the answer was yes  because he popped his head  back up, pushed his glasses back into their rightful place on his  nose and said; “Dismissed” Wow – super, I thought, dismissed!  I’m  sure my floaty friend of a lawyer  felt the  same way.  All was about to be a wrap  when I remembered, my other ticket.

“Excuse me” I spoke up and the judge  looked at me “Excuse me, may I ask a question?”

“You  want to ask a question?” the judge asked  surprised. I believe the subtext there would be something to the effect of; “You’re  serious, you want to  ask a question after I just gave you a huge break?”

“Yes, if I might, I’d like to ask a question”

“All right.  What’s  your question”

“Well, you see, I have this other ticket. It’s the for the  same  thing but it’s all the way in August and I am  supposed to be  touring on the day of the hearing, you know, above ground, not in the subways, and I wondered….” and here I  paused to gauge the judge’s  face, all was clear, he seemed  curious; “Well, I wondered if there is any way you could take care of this one today as well ’cause I  really don’t want to miss  my performance.” Then there  was a pause, of surprise I  think and the judge  once again leaned over to his  clerk…

“Is there anything I can do for her?”

Man, this is one rockin’ judge!

There was some more mumble,  whipser,  mumble and apparantly  this time  ‘Casper’ had been right; “If you  write  to me, or the clerk, get a form outside then I’ll postpone your date ’till a later time, all right?”

“So, I will come  back  right?” I said  wanting to make sure another visit was what he was talking about. Because if there was any way to  avoid another day here I surely wanted to  know.

“Yes” he  said, followed by “That’s all right,  right?”  Ok, I’d  reached the end of happy time  in court I  could tell.

“Oh, yes, yes,  that’s  fine, thank you” and I smiled as I grabbed my bright blue bag from it’s temporary hiding place.

“Oh, and Heidi…” I heard the judge say my name one more time…crap, is he gonna reprimand me for  something…I turned around; “Don’t miss your tour.” And he gave me once last friendly smile. I nodded an “Ok” , smiled  back and whisked  through the courtroom doors to freedom!

Even though it looks like I’ll have to go back for summons number  three I felt just  fine. I finally had someone on my side and  who better than the judge hearing my case!

As I walked up  Broadway to get some food as I was  starving, I noticed a smallish black man in oddly familiar  brightly coloured clothing walking here and there,  wandering in and out of  random store fronts along the street. Oh my God , it was ‘cuff  guy’ – the guy who h d been, not  ten minutes  earlier in the same court room as I, in hand and ankle cuffs. Wow, that judge is in some happy mood  today, I thought to myself  as I  watched the  newly freed man explore  Broadway in the  sunlight. Either that or the NYC cops are beyond bored and are picking up anyone and everyone they can just to  say they’re doing  something.

Most likely, it’s the latter  that’s the truth of the  matter.  Well, at least I know my friendly judge will  continue to have a job for a long while now & you know who I want sitting when I go in next month for “Disorderly Conduct”

Pray guys, ok?

I got back under today after doing some weeks of recording prep & had some gnawing in my stomach that it might not be the smoothest of days underground but called on every busking angel I know to help change that & just let me sing. I chose 42^nd St/ Times Square, Uptown  “A”  as it’s the spot that’s closest to my heart and just happens to be closest to my apartment as well.

Not four songs in two cops came up to my left side and stood there. Both were Hispanic, in their thirties, one however, was significantly taller and a bit rounder than the other.  They height/weight discrepancy along with their dual awkwardness kind of reminded me of an old school comedy team. Sheepishly, the taller of the two said, “You gotta stop”

“Ok” I responded, figuring with that awkward, wishy-washy tone they’d let me just pack up & go. So I packed up all my gear, took one last sip of water and stood up.

“Ok, so we’re kinda, sorta, well…” The taller of the cop-comedy-team mumbled…”We’re kinda waiting for our supervisor. I’m really sorry but we’re gonna probably have to give you a summons”

“Really? Seriously? Again?”

“Oh here she comes now, I see her” the shorter cop said

I looked around to see who this ‘supervisor’ was since she was the one who instigated the last summons I got, (court date July 11th, so anyone who wants to help me remember that so I don’t miss it I’d love the reminders!) Up comes the supervisor, the one who I was told by the last cop is lazy and mean. Great, and now she’s in charge of my fate….again

The supervisor from hell approached with a smaller version of herself in tow. Man that’s one a big, scary woman – I thought to myself. She was tall, large, dark and all I could think was she must have had to have that uniform custom made to fit that frame. Her presence made her sidekick and her two Hispanic ‘underlings’ look like ants. And at 5’1” I was tinier than even the smallest of her little army. I swear I stared at her stomach the whole time she towered over me, her voice just wafting over my head somewhere; “Do you have any ID with your address on it?” She boomed. God, was she really a ‘she’???

“I don’t know” I answered as I had a few cards with my name on them, but none with address on it..but I kept looking ’cause she scared the crap outta me. Just then a huge black hand reached over and pulled my Union card I was holding from me. “What’s this?”

“It’s my Union card” I said

“Is it yours?” she asked

“Yes it’s mine”

“Well, I don’t know if that’s you or not. It could be someone else’s. You could have stolen it”  … Well, you could compare names…you know, do the math, I thought, but I just let that slide given there were now three cops, one oversized almost-human-being-creature and one me.

“C’mon, we’re going upstairs” the Amazon supervisor boomed in her neither male nor female sound system of a voice.

Crap crap crap – I thought to myself,. This is turning into a whole ‘thing’ and I really have to pee! I lugged my gear up the 9 or 10 cement steps, getting a little muscle form the smaller cop on the last two steps. “Thank you” I said

Once on the landing I asked the taller, rounder cop, (I’ve found, often times, the rounder the cop the cooler they are. Just a hint if you’re ever in this same position, which I hope you’re not) who seemed pretty cool and looked kind of familiar to me, if I could go to the bathroom ’cause I really had to…” He, in his cool-round-cop-way, went over to his supervisor, ticket pad in hand and I heard “Hell no, I’m not lettin’ her go to the bathroom!” Which of course only made me have to pee more! Damn this was not the way I envisioned the day going at all. These guys really know how to put a serious harsh on a musical afternoon.

So, the same tall cop, walked back from the negative on the bathroom request and took my two forms of ID. He exited the station while scary Amazon woman and her female ‘mini-me’ ‘cop-ette’ stood to my left chatting/bonding and the shorter male cop stood in front of me, guarding me, I guess to make sure I didn’t make a mad dash to the ladies room or something. God. “Where’s he going with my ID?” I asked the smaller cop.

“Oh, he’ll be back, don’t worry”

Don’t worry? Don’t worry? He’s telling me? I’m surrounded by 4 cops and he’s telling me “Don’t worry” geeeze.

“So” and the smaller cop leaned in “Do you have any warrants out for your arrest?”

I paused, as I always do at this question because it always seems beyond ridiculous,  “No!” I said with a look that must have conveyed that sense of rediculousness ’cause he responded with a quick lean-in and whisper,

“Listen, I’m just trying to help you out here. See they’re gonna want to take you down to Central Booking and lock you up if they see there’s a warrant out on you. So I’m askin’ just to help you out”

“No!” I repeated myself, this time matching his ‘whisper voice’ which made me feel like I  was in an episode of “Law and Order” or something. All the while I was hoping that last summons I had been issued  a month or so back, for again, nothing,  hadn’t suddenly morphed into a warrant in my sleep

“Ok, so listen” and he leaned in really close this time and kept that intense whisper thing going full tilt. I turned my head a bit as all this ‘closeness’ was feeling, honestly well, a bit awkward, “They’ll probably just give you a ticket or a summons and not lock you up, but we’ll see once my partner comes back.”

Super, I thought as I backed up from the cops face and hopped back and forth trying to calm down my bladder which was pretty much screaming at me at this point. Another summons, just what I need, to spend the entire summer in court. Just then the tall, round cop came back through the turnstile. He mumbled some words to the Amazon woman (he seemed to mumble a lot) you know, the normal,  “You got this under control now?”

“Yes mam, I do, thank you. Thank you” etc etc and everyone saluted everyone else and then it was just the two cops and me left standing on the landing. A literal weight had been lifted. “ahhhh…”

“So” the tall cop said, still holding my ID’s. ” I got some good news and some bad news”

Super I thought – even good news from a cop is probably worse than bad news from a civilian. I braced myself.

“So, I was up there talkin’ to my chief and he’s a real hard ass and wants everything done by the books and I’m supposed to hand cuff you right now and take you in to Central Booking. I’m supposed to take you in not only ’cause you were singing there on the platform and all but I could take you in just ’cause you don’t have an ID with your address on it”. He paused, I gulped, waiting to see  what the ‘good news was  gonna be…”But I’m not gonna do that” Sigh… “Instead I’m gonna write you a summons. But just know you’re supposed to be going to jail tonight ok?”

“Ok….?” I said with a slight question mark at the end, not knowing if this whole explanation was something I was really supposed to be happy about.

“So, listen…” and the large cop came closer. “I hate doin’ this. Between you and me, if it was up to me I’d let you stay. I have no problem with you bein’ here. I’ve seen you before and this is all a bunch of bullshit to be honest with you. But, to be honest, someone like you, you’d not survive Central Booking anyway.”

“Yeah, you’d be eaten alive in there” the shorter cop chimed in “If it was up to us we’d just leave you alone. You ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong, you’re not hurting anyone or stealing or doin’ any crimes. But if our boss says we gotta deal with you, we gotta deal with you. It’s just the way it is. It don’t make no sense, but we gotta do it or we loose our jobs It sucks but it’s the way it is.”

I decided not to contest the issue of why I wouldn’t make it in Central Booking, better leave that alone I thought. All this time the larger cop was writing.  He then  looked up from his pad and said, “So, yeah, I’ve seen you before. I like your music. I really wish I didn’t have to do this, like I said, if it were up to me, I’d walk right by you” See, the roly-poly cops rock!

Just then, Naomi, a friend of mine from dance class passed by. She smiled at first and then noticed I was flanked by cops and her face contorted in such a way that let me know she had no idea what to make of what she was seeing. She kept looking back and forth, up and down, in front and in back of her to see what she’d just walked into. After a few seconds she summed it up and bravely, and I mean bravely, she walked right over to me and gave me a hug. Thank you Naomi. You rock to hug a friend while she’s surrounded by cops. Seriously! She gave me a look of concern and mouthed the words  “I hope you’re ok” as she walked away”

“Hey, It’s not our fault! It’s not our fault! Don’t shoot the messenger!” the larger, fast becoming the most animated  & jovial player in this little skit, shouted. “it’s not our fualt – It’s “The System”! And with that my lovely civilian support was swallowed up in the immense sea of moving bodies running through Times Square.

“So” I said “Yeah this system is nuts. right?”

“Yeah, it’s gotten out of control. I hate doing this stuff” the smaller cop said.

“Yeah, it’s super tough to work steadily getting summons after summons and spending so much time in court and afraid of being arrested”

“If it were up to us you’d be no problem, believe you me” the taller cop said while he scratched on the ticket with his pen.

“And  your supervisor, I hear she’s kinda … mean. Kind of tough” I said to the shorter cop as the taller was trying to figure out how to write a ticket.

“Yeah, she’s really rough”

“She’s only been here like three or four months, right?”  Believe me you know these things when you work underground. The minute the vibe changes, you know it. And her ‘vibe’ has changed everything

“Yeah, ’bout that long. She could have retired already but…”

“She likes the power right?”

“Yeah, she’s tough man. None of us like her”

Then the two cops, who obviously had not written up very many musicians started to banter back and forth like a comedy team,

“What’s the code again for “Disorderly Conduct”? My jovial cop-friend would ask

“Ummm…I dunno, here, here’s the sheet” his shorter,  side-kick  would  respond.

“Lemme look at that…man, I can’t find it anywhere”

“There it is” the smaller cop pointed to the white cardboard sheet covered in codes and their corresponding offenses

“Ok” the taller cop said “Here are you ID’s but don’t go running off anywhere” Like I’d really try to run with 75 pounds of gear and a full bladder, right.

“Which copy do I give her?” The taller cop asked the shorter

“Pink” I answered for him “It’s the pink one. You give me the pink one” I thought, how stupid, I’m not even a cop and I know that.

“Ok, Heidi, listen” the portly cop  stopped writing and looked at me, “One rule when you’re dealing with cops, if they don’t know something, don’t give them the answer. Got it? They might just mess up the ticket and it just might get thrown out. Ya got it?”

“Ah….yeah, I got it.” Damn! well, maybe he’ll give me another ‘out’

“Ok” the tall cop said, here’s your summons.”

“Ok. Hey, do I really have to go to court twice? I mean I just booked a show out of town for this date in August and I don’t want to miss the gig.”

“Well, I’ve heard of people taking multiple summons in and having the judge rule on all of them at the same time. Just bring your booking information for your show and both the summons on your July hearing and he might hear them both the same day. Tell him you have to work. He’ll probably hear them both”

“Ok, thanks” I said, this time without a question mark as this seemed like some actual good advice given the situation I was already in.

“And this is the same as the last one right? These are Transit tickets, right?”

“No, these are Criminal Court Summons”

“Seriously? Criminal Court?” Geeeeze…this system is just a mess I thought to myself…

“Now, I’m supposed to kick you out of here”

“Don’t worry” I said, “I’m leaving”

“Hey” the tall cop said, “Do you need to use the bathroom Heidi?”

“I’m ok, but thanks, I’ll pop into Starbucks upstairs” I said, recalling way too vividly that the bathrooms in the Times Square Subway are more  like  public indoor outhouses if that’s possible. Nothing flushes and there’s no water. Ok in a real pinch but when given a choice,which I’d now been granted, I’d choose Starbucks any  day.

“Hey, but listen, Heidi, don’t let this stop you, you know, from doing what you do. got it?”

“Ok, thanks, I won’t” Then I thought for a second, “Hey, what’s your supervisor’s hours?”

“Ah….very smart” The tall cop , who was fast becoming what looked like an ally, said. “Well, weekends are good. She’s off on the weekends. And she works evenings, four to twelve”

“K, so mornings and weekends are cool”

“You got it. You know, you’d make a really good cop” The tall cop poked his finger out in my direction as I turned to exit the ‘scene of the crime’, “Hey Heidi…”

“Yeah?” I said as I turned around

“And you never know, I might have just written that ticket out wrong….”

I smiled but said nothing as I could see his supervisor waddling up behind him. Guess I’ll find out July 11th

Ah, finally freedom & I could pee!

"Disorderly Conduct"

Monday afternoon I wandered down to Union Square and stumbled on a fabulous  busker , Morgan Okane, playing his banjo  by the fountain. Not one song in the Park  Police approached the musician and told him he had to leave. First it was because he was amplified then when they saw he was not they said he had to go anyway – “Because there were more than 20 people listening” the two  cops explained.

Seriously NYC? Seriously, this is what is important to you?

The fact that a guy w/ a banjo was making  more than 20 people happy at a time seems hardly a reason for law enforcement to  step up & do something.

Then this on the news…

http://culture.wnyc.org/articles/features/2011/may/30/street-performers-upset-central-park-quiet-zones/

Marlon Bishop/WNYC John Boyd, singer, performing in the Bethesda Arcade despite the new regulations that prohibit playing music there.

An acoustically brilliant area near Strawberry  Fields, where classical musicians have played unamplified for years in Central Park, has now been deemed a “Quiet Zone” by the city of New  York.

A “Quiet Zone” banning classical  street musicians entertaining your tourists for free???? Are you kidding me Mayor Bloomberg?

PS – Wasn’t Strawberry Fields named after those guys, those  guys who were named after some bug or somethin’? They got really famous for just sitting there in silence hour after hour, day after day…. 🙂

And finally … I found out that my friend and fellow  busker/Steel  Drummer Caesar Passee, was arrested Friday for playing his Steel Drums in public. He  “got  a police escort  in midday traffic with sirens and  all”  – Yeah,  this is a fabulous use of NYC’s dwindling budget.  Good idea Bloomberg  – cut thousands of school teachers & close  firehouses & spend the little money we have on  arresting  musicians  who are merely exercising their First Amendment. Yeah, this is a great plan…

I’m saddened by the Mayor and the city’s choice to  spend so much time, money and manpower shutting  down  such a  harmless, and honestly, life affirming activity as music. I  realize  you’re  fiscally hurting  NYC but my God, pick on something useful – music is something that actually  makes people happy, not sad, and to trying to  ‘clean up the city’ or pull in some  cash by arresting musicians is insane.

By the way New York City, I’d venture to say that both the sanitizing of art  out of NYC and harassment to enforce that ‘sanitization’  does not make  your city more  appealing to those visiting…but less.

The bright light in this story is  that  the musicians are not  going anywhere despite the “Quiet  Zone” demarcation – I’m proud of my fellow buskers.

Keep the music going…

Fri was  a  jam packed  night starting w/  the NYC premier of “Tied To A  Chair”  the film I did  stunts in described in “The Subway Diaries”  followed by a party along the Hudson River where Fleet Week was in full swing. Here’s the  New  YOrker  review of the film  & some pics of the fun : )

The Front Row: “Tied to a Chair”: Bound for Glory : The New Yorker

Happy Start To Summer! : )

Hi guys ! As thousands gather for Honecoming and Commencement weekend, Wesleyan University has asked me to perform, sign copies of “The Subway Diaries” and be part of an Arts Panel on Saturday May 21st.  It’s gonna be a rockin’ weekend so stop on by & soak up some rockin’ culture, food & fun!

A) PERFORMANCE:

1–3 P.M.

WESEMINAR 5,000 Women

A\This is a satellite production of a project called “5,000 Women” whose mission is to have 5,000 women artists performing in tandem. The name comes from the fact that every hour 5,000 women are giving birth at the same time throughout the world. “5,000 Women” honors that amazing creativity, by showcasing the creativity of women artists. The performance will include singer-songwriters, comedians, dancers, actresses, spoken word artists, independent films by independent filmmakers, and one-woman shows.

Performers: Naaz Hosseini , Aleta Staton , Heidi Kole, Lisa Porter, Jennifer Blaine, Elizabeth Liang  Nafeesa Monroe, Karen Gross , and Stephanie Fungsang

Center for the Arts Hall (formerly CFA Cinema)

B) PANEL:

3:30 P.M.

WESEMINAR Making It In the Performing Arts–Is it Possible?

This seminar, conceived by Wesleyan alumnae who have established careers in the arts, is a forum to share experiences and insights. For those who are contemplating a career in the arts we may ask ourselves: How can I make it as a performer?, Will I be able to support myself?, In what ways can I distinguish myself and establish a career? Through this seminar we hope to create a network of support for students and alumni in these challenging fields. All students, graduates and artists are welcome to attend. Networking session and screening of Fly Away, a film by Janet Grillo ’80, will follow.

Presenters: Dana Leslie Goldstein, playwright and poet; Heidi Kole, author, singer-songwriter; Lisa Porter, actress and vocal coach; Jennifer Blaine , actress and one-woman show; Karen Gross, cabaret artist and singer song-writer; Grace Overbeke ’08, director of marketing at Theater J; Martha Meade, muralist; and Tamina Davar, filmmaker.

Center for the Arts Hall (formerly CFA Cinema)

Hi all – today (despite the monsoon outside) I’ll be filmed & interviewed by the documentary film “Busking The System”. It’s a fabulous film & great crew so keep your eyes & ears peeled as we’re gonna make some waves : )

http://www.buskingthesystem.com

So, last week I was interviewed for a good hour and a half for this stage piece that’s in development called “Buskers” and tonight I’ve been invited to see it’s premier reading in association with The Old Vic Theater of London, at the Soho House here in Manhattan, in which an actress is playing me!

Go figure right? I’ve never been on this side of the fence/camera/stage before and I gotta say…it’s a bit trippy 🙂

Fill ya in later…

Stay musical!

Seriously – there’s other stuff to do down there in the trains than mess w/ me to save your job!!!

So, last night I had a dream of  two dancers/mystics in long, colourful robes, movine & dancing across a green lawn, each one holding a flower. The first held an enormous, larger-than-life White Lily and the second an equally large, oversized Sunflower. After that dream, somehow now I knew Spring had finally arrived in NYC! We all thought it might actually skip us this year the way the winter dragged on. But the trees are in bloom, the flowers are comin’ up & birds tweeting madly. I even saw a goose lay her egg (all be it not golden) as I was running along The Hudson River. This truly is my favourite time of year & I hope all of you are enjoying it to the max.

I’m blessed this year to usher in the season with a full schedule of gigs & appearances that allow me to actually see the sun as I sing, speak & sign books! The tour dates range from Nassau Bahamas to Middletown Ct with fun appearances in between. Check out all the happenings below & I hope to see you all either above ground or under!

• 4/30/11  Nassau, Bahamas – Featured performer at Crazy Johnny’s All Rock & Roll Club http://www.bahamaslocal.com/events/
• 5/1/11 Global The Subway Diaries Featured Book Review in Dstripped Magazine http://www.etsy.com/listing/71533233/dstripped-magazine-spring-issue-2011– Pre Oder your fabulous printed copies NOW! It’s a rockin’ magazine. DStripped Launch party May 12th, NYC, NY – Location TBD

• 5/12/11 NYC, NY Taping of Different Voices with host Poet Minor on Time Warner TV, Chanel 56 – Open to Public www.bliptv.com/differentvoices
• 5/13/11 5/13/11 NYC, NY Performing at  “New York’s Underground Streets” Event 10PM @ “Terminal 5”
  

• 5/15/11 I’m teaming up w/ fabulous documentary film maker, producer Justin Morales & Associate Producer, Magda Grover on their super film “Busking The System” www.buskingthesystem.com – we’ll be filming in the NYC subways & appearing everywhere together @ festivals & events this summer & beyond so keep your eyes & ears peeled!

• 5/21/11 Middletown, Ct Featured Performer and Panelist at the 5,000 Women Festival http://www.wesleyan.edu/rc/2011/saturday.html

A special note of thanks to the brilliant handiwork of bassist & master luthier Rick Mullen who has repaired my much neglected guitar. Thanks to his talent & dedicated work on my ax I’m up and ready to go this Spring! If you’ve got a stringed instrument in need of repair – he’s your guy! www.rickmullen.net

Finally – I’m sending all of you the best wishes for a happy, safe & super creative Spring!

As you all know, just last week Sab came to NYC and, as a sociologist, is now fascinated by the underground and followed me  in the subways with his camera for an evening at 59th Street. Now, just one week later, an 8.9 Earthquake and a Tsunami have hit Japan, and last night he shared the following with me on the severe nuclear threat that now looms over Sab, his family and his country. He and I alike are baffled at what it will take for the world to wake up. Please pray….& leave your thoughts and prayers here for him, his family & country as he does visit/read & tells me over& over how much everyone’s words mean to him…

“Dear Heidi:
Thanks for the reply. We are about 160 miles from the nuclear plants. What it means is that this threat is totally different from the Russian nuclear accident. One of the largest cities in the World is under the nuclear threat. Evacuation seems unrealistic. When the fatal nuclear accident occurs, there is almost no chance for us to survive. There is not much we can do here.

We are all very, very concerned about the troubles in nuclear power plants in Fukushima Prefecture, Japan. I’ve always been against governments’ nuclear policy, and it is outrageously sad to see that my concerns become reality. I always have a very serious concern that the US and European countries have been reviving their nuclear power plants policies and have started to construct new ones. Haven’t we seen enough through TMI and Russian accidents?

Anti-nuclear movements have always been forced to fight loosing battles. Bob Dylan’s tune is ringing in my head: “How many deaths will it take till he knows that too many people have died?”

Please make music, Heidi. Sing this. Write a new song about this stupid poison power and the people who fought against it in vain.”

~Saburo Horikawa

Department of Sociology

Sab's Office after the Earthquake

Sab's Office after the Earthquake

Ghen is helping Sab after Earthquake