"Psycho-Travel" - Chapter Two - "Brooklyn, Social Work in the City"

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The Brooklyn Family Court was a true chamber of horrors. The popular legal phrase of the seventies was a "neglect petition." If a judge granted the social agency's request for a two-year continuance, the parents would have visitation rights, but at the discretion of the agency.
For many parents, the availability of visitation far exceeded their actual interest in seeing the children. The kids who remained at home gave them enough problems. Out of guilt, shame, or some combination of complex emotions, most of them would show up in court and proceed to do what they had not done for the past year or more - show a deep and abiding concern for their children in placement. More often than not, the theatrics took place in the office of the social worker. On court day, many failed to show up.
It was like witnessing a group of aspiring thespians playing the roles of devoted parents before the judge and the others who processed poverty's children in the five boroughs.
Lou was in court on an easy case today. James Joseph, a surly seventeen year old with few redeeming qualities, was up for continuance. At least he wouldn't have to witness any perverse theatrics on this occasion. The circumstances of his entrance into placement had been extraordinary. His own mother had decided to resolve a dispute with James in a less-than-motherly way. It seemed that James had his caustic wit turned full-blast on Momma. He was good with words, certainly a better debater than his mother. However, Momma got the last word that day when she went to her dresser, took out a loaded thirty-eight, and placed the barrel under James' chin. According to the police report of the incident, Momma's exact words were, "If you say one more jive-ass word, James, I'm gonna blow your fucking head off!"
Although James had not gone to church in years, he became a believer that day. Something in his mother's eyes convinced him that only complete silence could allow him to reach his sixteenth birthday.
James was highly incensed at this seeming lack of maternal affection. He had rights.
That night, he went down to the local police precinct and asked for protection from his gun-toting mama.
The powers of the City of New York subsequently determined that pulling a thirty-eight revolver on one's child was an act that neglected the child's welfare, no matter how much of a smart-ass he may have been. James had become a ward of the City of New York and Lou's client.
Last week, Lou had taken the E Train to Nostrand Avenue in Brooklyn to visit Mrs. Joseph. She greeted Lou and asked him to come inside. Helen Joseph had prepared a chicken dinner for him.
Lou did not know what to make of her. She appeared to be brusque when she spoke, at first, but then she invariably softened up after a while.
The apartment was typical of the Bedford-Stuyvessant neighborhood. There were holes in the floor, paint peeling from the walls, and roaches bold enough to make daytime appearances. For these squalid conditions, the landlord was kind enough to charge a monthly rent higher than the one that Lou's Mom paid for a clean and spacious six room apartment in Queens in a nice neighborhood.
Lou thought of the conservatives who were constantly bemoaning welfare fraud. "The poor are really leading beautiful lives here," he thought to himself.
""Well Mrs. Joseph, James comes before the court next week on a two-year continuance. What are your feelings about having James come back home?" he asked.
She looked at him as her eyes started to tear. "Do I have to take him back?" she asked.
"Oh no! Not at all," said Lou hopefully. After seeing what a true pain in the ass James could be, he was genuinely concerned that Mrs. James might kill him if James pushed her too far.
And make no mistake - James could piss off the Pope. Six months earlier, a cop had put him in Rikers Island, not because he jumped a subway turnstile, but because of his hostile and superior attitude. Normally, the cop would just give a kid a citation to appear in court, and that was all.
But James was indignant that the officer had apprehended him. Finally, the cop had heard enough and hauled him off to jail.
James had done what he did best, making people angry at him. The cop found a reason to jail him.
It was the first time he had ever done so to a subway fare-evader.
Would James push Mrs. Joseph too far again? Thank God she didn't seem to want him home again.
"Well, I don't want you to think I'm a bad momma. I'm good to my two other children, and I was good to James, too. But that child get nasty. The older he get, the nastier he get," she said.
This was beautiful. She didn't want him back. Lou had earlier visions of a New York Daily News headline: "Mother kills seventeen year old son - Full investigation of social agency urged by community leaders!"
Normally, he worked hard to reunite the children in his care with their families. But a cocked thirty-eight placed under the chin? James had told him once, "My momma isn't so bad most of the time, but she gotta hell of a temper when she get pissed."
"Mrs. Joseph," said Lou with his most soothing voice, "You just go to work as usual. I'll take care of everything in court. After this hearing, James will be an adult and there will be no more court dates," he said.
Now, all that remained was to make the petition for a continuance of placement with the judge.
The waiting room was crowed with mothers and children. Lou was the only adult male in the room.
One large woman kept hitting her children and screaming at them. She had a huge button that said, "God is the answer." For the sake of her children, Lou hoped that El Senor would be just that. If their salvation truly rested with her, they were in serious trouble.
Finally, James' case was called. Since placement was uncontested, Lou walked out in two minutes.
Since he was already in Brooklyn, Lou decided to stop by Marvin's house. Other than reports of heroin use and packing a thirty-two, Marvin was making an excellent adjustment to living in the East New York section of Brooklyn.
The options were dismal. If Marvin stayed on the streets, he could well become an addict.
Should he be convicted of a felony, he would be sent to a reformatory which would enable him to return "bigger and badder" than when he left.
Marvin's mother, Alice, was a friendly lady who was doing her best with five kids. The brick tenement looked like a mugging about to happen. Lou raced up the four flights of stairs and knocked on the door and announced himself.
Alice opened the door, and Lou entered. Another slumlord special, he thought. There were holes in the living room floor. There were also several rodent traps in the room.
"Hello Alice. It's nice to see you," said Lou.
"Well, Lou, come on in. It's meaner than my landlord's heart in that hallway," she said.
She ushered him through to the kitchen. There were two place settings. He could smell fried chicken. Lou thought how the poor gave him more to eat and drink than many middle-class Americans he knew. Indeed, such people were often likely to decline even a libation when visiting others, as if they were all part of some perverse fasting society. When one visited them, at most a drink was all one could expect. They dined, and Lou inquired about her other children. After the meal, Lou got down to business.
"Alice, we have got to work something out for Marvin. I see big trouble in his future unless we do something fast," he said.
She shook her head sadly and started to cry softly. "What can I do? He too big for me to whip him anymore. Don't do no good with him anyway," she said.
Lou felt the time was right for his proposal. "Alice, I don't want Marvin living in a reformatory, and I don't want him taking heroin. If you sign some papers petitioning the family court to have him returned to my agency, I can get him started on a work-study program that has helped some other boys like him," Lou said.
He didn't want to press her on this suggestion. Lou sat silently and waited for her to speak.
She looked at him for a few seconds before she spoke. "Lou, will you promise me you get that boy in some kinda work-study?" she asked.
Lou assented.
"All right. Give me the papers. I hope I'm doing the right thing," she said.
"Don't worry Alice. You could be saving his life," said Lou.
"He don't like that group home. Marvin say the food good and the neighborhood nice, but you got too many rules," she said.
"Well, Alice, I'll do my best to make it better. You can visit him. but because of the heroin problem, I can't let him make weekend visits to you for some time. However, I'll get you cab money to visit him in Queens," said Lou.
"That be nice," she said.
It was a successful morning. On the surface, all he had done was separate mothers from their children, but in these cases, the decisions were not difficult.
Lou left the apartment and walked back towards the IND subway If he saw a pirate cab, he would take it. The neighborhood looked like a mugging about to happen. Some of the tenements were uninhabited. The windows were blown out. It looked like a scene from post-world war two Berlin.
"What a disgrace," thought Lou.
Yet this was nothing new for the "greatest nation" in the world. He had once read a report by a commission, written at the turn of the century, that concluded that the animals in Hell's Kitchen, a notorious section of New York's west side, enjoyed better housing than the people. A crude and brutal society, with signs that things could get worse. With that happy thought, Lou's focus turned to lunch.
He made his way back to Queens Boulevard and Continental avenue in Forest Hills. Looking up at the sleek skyscraper apartment buildings and the wide expanse of the boulevard, it was hard to believe that he was in the same city as East New York. Lou enjoyed a chocolate egg cream and a sandwich.
He had one hour before his meeting with his next client. Lou bought a New York Times and ordered a coffee. The front page news wasn't good. Nixon was still talking about a secret plan to end the war.
It was time to leave. Lou walked along the well-ordered streets of Forest Hills back to the office.
Tonight, he and Margot would visit a cocktail lounge and watch the moon landing with Johnny Ryan.
The sun was shining brightly. It was a good day to be alive.
Lou kept thinking about his recent conversation with Margot. He had proposed that they both quit their jobs and spend five or six months on the island of Majorca. She seemed to be quite willing to make the move. Since it was becoming evident that the city was driving her crazy, it was hardly a surprise.
That night, they came to an agreement that they would both give thirty-days notice on their jobs. In a little more than a month, they were on their way to Mallorca.
After securing a B.A. in sociology, Mr. Honer pursued his graduate studies at the City University of New York, John Jay College of Criminal Justice, where he specialized in organizational theory and design. He has served as an instructor at Windward Community College in Hawaii, where he taught grant writing.
Editor and co-author: "Adult Education for the Homeless: from the Streets to Self-Sufficiency", Miller Freeman Inc. (San Francisco) 1999. This work presents innovative strategies for helping homeless persons develop basic skills.
Co-author: " California State Plan for Adult Education and Family Literacy-July 1, 1999-June 30th, 2004", November. 1998. Provided a social framework for addressing the status of adults with basic skills needs as a paid consultant to the California State Department of Education. During the period from 1994 to 2001, Mr. Honer was host and producer of Social Issues, a public affairs cable television program that was cablecast monthly in Sacramento and San Francisco. In the course of implementing many- employment, education, social service and health education programs, Mr. Honer worked with a wide range of minority populations. In 1990, he founded and co-chaired The Coalition for Equity for Minorities, a public policy group committed to social justice. His articles on social conditions have been published both in the United States and in Spain. He also conducted research on judicial corruption by New York City's five Mafia families for the New York State Joint Legislative Committee on Crime. The research resulted in the removal/resignation of two Supreme Court justices.
Bill brings a cross-cultural perspective to his writing as a result of his travels to 60 countries around the world. He currently lives with his wife in Costa Rica.


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