photojournalism magazine
L E G A C Y . 1 Year Ago Today
Elvert Xavier Barnes Photography . Writings . Ads
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Though I had visited New York City many times before and on two different occasions had lived there it is Memorial Day Weekend 1992 that now stands out in my mind. And as I had done many times before since the passing of Frank and Robert both who, in the spring of 1989, would pass within months of each other ... when I'd arrive in NYC on 23 May 1992 which was the Saturday before Memorial Day Weekend I would rent a room at the McBurney YWCA on 24th Street between 7th and 8th avenues. According to my calendar I'd stay in room #715 until Memorial Day Friday, 29th, when later that evening, at 8:46 pm, and with Asmeralda in my arms I'd catch the AMTRAK back to DC.
I would have remained in NYC for the holiday weekend but it was the second time since October 1991 that I had felt uncomfortable in NYC. Born and raised in Southern Maryland I had attended college and lived in the WDC area for many years It had been since my first visit in the summer of 1975 when David, the FBI agent, and I went to see Bette Midler on the Half Shell Revue that NYC had been the one place that I had always felt 'right at home.' And would often visit. Especially when I needed to 'get balanced'. As was the case, in the spring of 1992, when the week before Memorial Day I would rent a room at the McBurney Y with hopes of doing some 'street photography' over Memorial Day Weekend and perhaps returning to WDC on the Tuesday or Wednesday after Memorial Day.
However, it had been the fall of 1991 and just after Labor Day that I would enter into an official relationship with my current 'other' who, at that time, had a high ranking position with the government. Though that fact is not the whole story it certainly is a most important factor in my story. And one that should not be 'simply dismissed.' Immediately after making the commitment to him, in September 1991, and more so than ever before I'd find myself in situations with government agents and law enforcement officers 'policing' me. On trains and planes. At bars and in clubs. At work, in catering. At home. And in hotels. And, at the Y. Since September 1991 I had observed that there had been a noticable change in how many of my closest friends and associates responded toward me. And that their reactions had to do with the fact that everywhere that I'd go 'governemt agents' would come around. More so than before. And once they'd come around I'd never again feel comfortable nor be welcomed. Sometimes by folks that I had known and had had relationships or worked with for years.
It had been in October 1991 that my 'other' and I would take our first weekend trip together. To NYC. Reflecting on what my best friend Frank had always said 'never, ever, take a lover to a restaurant or to a city that you regard as your favorite ...' on Memorial Day Friday, 29 May 1992, I'd check out of the McBurney Y at 12 noon. With plans of leaving on an evening train I'd check my luggage in at AMTRAK's baggage department and take to the streets for some photography. Where just off 7th Avenue, at FIT, I'd find a mannequin's torso in a trash bin that I'd pick up and transport back to WDC.