A funny thing happened
in Albany, New York the other day. The landlords of New York City had
owned the state legislature for decades. Now… they’ve been evicted.
Well, not exactly
evicted. Just had their paws declawed. The legislature took a look
at the latest proposal from the various real estate associations. These
included new ways to raise rents even in rent-controlled buildings. And new
ways to build skyscrapers made of ticky-tacky and sell them for… well, much
more than they’d be worth.
The legislature, now
entirely in the hands of members of the Democratic Party, decided enough was
enough and approved the new city housing bill and the landlords and their
versions of the NRA were stunned. Not only did they fail to get
everything they wanted, but they’d have to even put up with some “rollbacks,”
as stealing union-won benefits have recently come to be called.
What?
Train, bus, plane and
helicopter loads of lobbyists and consultants and academics with
landlord-endowed chairs at landlord-endowed “universities” flooded the state
capital.
They appealed to the
governor -- a Democrat -- to “reason with the Senate and Assembly that made
changes that will mean a few million dollars in dollars that won’t be stuffed
into used coffee cans and buried beneath private putting greens in Scarsdale
and Kings Point or winter homes in Key Biscayne or Mar A Largo.
The governor shrugs.
He tells the Gimme Chorus at his doorstep to take things up with the
legislature and that he will sign the “best bill they can pass,” whatever it
is.
The chorus disassembled
and went back home without its claws. Members were heard to mutter things
like “this is going to affect the lives of soooo many construction workers.
Wow! Sticking up for the working class… the unionized working class at
that.
Rent gouging and
slumlording is as old as the founding of the city itself. And it’s not
going to go away. But it’s not going to
get worse, either. At least for now.
As the late Oscar Brand
would sing
Pitty the downtrodden
landlord,
And his back that’s all
burdened and bent.
Respect his gray hairs.
Don’t ask for repairs.
And don’t be behind in
the rent.
SHRAPNEL:
--We first met Brand in
the late 1950s, while was living on W. 12th St. in Greenwich Village. He
made fun of us “suburban kids.” When he died some years ago in his 90s, he was
living on Baker Hill Road in Great Neck, around the corner and down the block
where someone whose work you are now reading misspent part of his youth.
I’m Wes Richards. My
opinions are my own but you’re welcome to them. ®
Comments? Send ‘em here:
wesrichards@gmail.com
© WJR 2019
No comments:
Post a Comment