Angels
Media & Society; NY World; Page 2

June 20, 2005

by Jessica Bruder

After wandering in the urban wilderness for more than 20 years, New York Law School students finally have a dormitory of their own. The Promised Land is a brand-new 13-story building on East Third Street, where up to 99 law students will soon live and study amidst the music of angels.

Hell's Angels, that is. The infamous motorcycle gang inhabits the building right next-door: a dingy, six-story tenement that has been the club's local headquarters for more than three decades. Their comings and goings are heralded with throaty blasts from Harley-Davidson tailpipes, and their block parties are the stuff of legend. Though middle age has mellowed the Angels -- their latest noteworthy weapons bust, for a couple of knives, a dagger and pistol, dates back to last year -- it's hard to imagine them baking cookies for the housewarming next-door.

"The fact that they tolerated this invasion of their territory is kind of amazing to me," marveled George Bliss, who operated a pedicab hub adjacent to the Angels' clubhouse before the dorm took its place. He recalled the days when tour buses would troll his block, looking for grit: Angels would rise to the occasion, hoisting bricks overhead and menacing the glassed-in out-of-towners. One prankster, he added, liked to crack a bullwhip on the hoods of passing cars.

"I'm sure they feel squeezed," he said. "I still occasionally see those guys, and they have nothing but curses for their neighbors. The shit hasn't hit the fan yet with whoever's going to go in and out of that dorm building, and park their cars in front of that building."

Indeed, the Angels are notoriously possessive of their parking. On the front of their clubhouse, a sign reads: "No Parking Except Authorized Hell's Angels," and they've been known to put cones and saw horses in the street to reserve room for their bikes. Cars have ended up with slashed tires.

But where some folks see chaos, Alta Levat, the associate dean for public affairs at New York Law School, paints a cozy (if eclectic) portrait of scholastic domesticity.

"The East Village is a wonderful place to live, full of students and young people and all sorts of wonderful people," she said. Has she considered a certain subset of those wonderful people, the Hell's Angels? "Well, we're very familiar with the neighborhood, and we don't have any concerns about that," she said.

Ms. Levat added that the law school has been exploring the real-estate market for 20 years and that, to abate the housing shortage, some students have been bunking at Brooklyn Polytechnic. "When we located this building, it was just so ideal that we moved ahead with our planning and incorporated it with our plans for the new academic year," she said. The school signed a long-term lease in May.

Students will start moving in on Aug. 1, and there's already a waiting list for rooms. Rent will range from $1,000 to $1,600 per bedroom, arranged in suites with private kitchens and balconies -- some offer a pleasant view of the Angels' roof deck -- all just a 20-minute commute from the school's campus in Tribeca. The dormitory is strictly nonsmoking and, as Ms. Levat was quick to point out, it will be monitored by a 24-hour security force.

The students' security system, however, will have nothing on the one next-door, where six closed-circuit cameras festoon the facade of the Angels' lair. If that's not enough to ward off interlopers, there's a tiny peephole nestled into the socket of a leering skull on the front door, along with a brass plaque that bears a eulogy for ex-Angel (Big Vinny) Girolamo, 1948-1979: "When In Doubt, Knock 'Em Out."

The students and the Angels both have a vested interest in the law, and in a perfect world one can imagine a symbiosis taking root: The gruff but affable Angels would recognize that they've gained a valuable resource right next-door, in the form of free legal services. And the law students would acquire experience, and a dash of thrilling glamour, while defending the Angels in court.

Meanwhile, however, this is Manhattan we're talking about, and so a local community group -- Committee for Zoning Inaction -- sprang up to protest the dorm's height. They complain that the building's developer used special zoning privileges to erect extra stories.

"This is sort of the Trojan dorm," said Richard Kusack, who assembled the group. "People find it really out of scale."

According to The Villager, on April 26 "a crowd of about 80 angry residents" gathered outside the law-school dorm, demanding that the city's Department of Buildings revoke the permit and chanting, "Take the floors down!"

Community activists aside, do the law students need to be nervous about their neighbors?

Don Muldoon is a retired cop who served the "Fighting Ninth" Precinct for 26 years and got to know a colorful assortment of Angels. They had nicknames like the Elephant Man, the Preacher and Mike the Bike, he recalled.

"They're not the nicest people in the world. I mean, they would cut your leg off in a heartbeat," he said. "But the funny part was, there was very little crime on their block, although we did find some unconscious people lying there once in awhile, you know? Of questionable moral fiber.

"You'll guarantee these kids are from Neverget, Long Island, or Sheepshank, Idaho, or something," he said. "And they're living in the big city here." He paused a moment to contemplate students from corn-fed America living cheek-by-jowl with the Hell's Angels. "Oh ... my ... God," he said slowly.

Mr. Muldoon left the force in 1991. Nowadays, the Angels fall under the jurisdiction of Inspector James McCarthy, the commanding officer of the Ninth Precinct.

"In October, I arrested one of the Hell's Angels for attempting to break the window of my car," said Inspector McCarthy. He explained that he'd been responding to a complaint -- apparently, the Angels had wrecked a parked car by puncturing its radiator with a screwdriver. He'd crept up to the clubhouse in an unmarked cruiser, double-parked it and was walking back down the block when ...

"One of them was about to break my window when somebody yelled, 'Police!'" Inspector McCarthy recalled. "He threw his hammer up to the second-floor fire escape, and somebody took it in. I arrested the individual. He was charged with attempted criminal mischief and possession of a dangerous weapon."

The bikers are also possessive of their outdoor furnishings. During a recent visit, a burly fellow with a Hell's Angels belt buckle cinched around his considerable waist emerged from the clubhouse to inform a reporter that she had been sitting on the club's "private bench."

"We don't give interviews, and we'd like you to leave," he explained coolly. "And that's a private bench right there."

Neighbors confirmed that the bench had recently received a new coat of blood-red paint. Under normal circumstances, it bears a sign that says: "GETAWAY [sic]: PRIVATE BENCH."