Sidewalk

“People like me are the eyes and ears of this street

Hakim recognizes his role here as a “public character,” in the language of Jane Jacobs. As such, his responsibilities—and those of other vendors—extend beyond bookselling and include keeping the sidewalk safe.

“It teaches you about yourself […] and it lets you know you have a self-worth in yourself.” 

Jerome derives a sense of self-respect through learning, in black books, about the history and accomplishments of people of African descent. These books run counter to the historical mainstream white narrative in America, which has marginalized the lives of black people. 

“I have a problem with this idea of a role model, because ‘role model’ generally has meant, at least by the media’s definition, some of these high-profile people, but the truth of the matter is that the little people who really have proved catalytic to a lot of very successful people hardly ever get talked about, or make it into the sweep of history.” 

Although Hakim stands in as something of a role model for Jerome, he takes issue with the usage of this phrase because it tends to favor upper-middle-class and well-educated individuals, and ignore lesser-known people—perhaps like himself—who have also moved society forward. Duneier’s book is a study in the lives of one such group of “little people.”

“As Jane Jacobs wrote in The Death and Life of Great American Cities, the first ‘fundamental lesson of successful city life [is] that people must take a modicum of public responsibility for each other even if they have no ties to each other […].’” 

Jacobs’s argument encompasses multiple responsibilities of sidewalk life: the responsibility of one vendor for another, the vendor for the customer, and the vendor for the neighborhood (and vice versa). By inserting ourselves into public space, we assume the burden of caring, even briefly, for strangers.

“That’s my partner over there…you gotta care about him.” 

In this instance, Marvin defends his business partner, Ron, while in conversation with another vendor, Mudrick. Marvin encourages Ron to better his life; the bond between the two characters is among the strongest in the book, and underscores the support system available on Sixth Avenue. 

“By saying, ‘Give me three,’ Ron is saying, ‘I’m accepting it, but I’m in charge,’ even if he’s doing so on the terms the customer suggested. In these transactions, he insists on maintaining the respect of his customer as well as his own self-respect.” 

By asserting his authority as a vendor and also respecting the customer’s wishes, Ron demonstrates the respect for himself and for his customer that is necessary for the sidewalk economy to thrive.

“You can learn a little something from each and every one of these people.” 

Contrary to popular assumptions of the sidewalk as being a retreat from conventional societal norms, vendors like Ron actually do form small connections to society every day through their interactions with the neighborhood. The vendor-customer relationship is not just transactional, but also educational. 

“I am thinking about the sidewalk. Thank goodness for the sidewalk.” 

Duneier makes this statement after witnessing the positive impact of Hakim on Jerome and the friendship between Marvin and Ron. But this quote encompasses all the vendors—who are able to pursue legitimate means of livelihood—and the customers—who benefit from these unique interactions with the vendors—who have had their lives touched by the sidewalk economy.

“Whatever I do with my money, at least I can say I earned it. That I have a reason to hold my head up.” 

Although vendors may look down upon him for begging, panhandler Leo sees no shame in it. He views panhandling as a legitimate way of earning a living without resorting to stealing or dealing drugs. To survive on the streets, all the men must demonstrate self-respect—however small—in the work that they do. 

“That’s what the street is about: survival.” 

A place holder named B.A. talks to Duneier, who marvels at the man’s creativity in getting paid to hold spaces that are essentially free to the public. B.A. responds that he does this to survive, which shows how the vendors and associated figures on Sixth Avenue have used innovative techniques to provide for themselves. 

“It is difficult to know how to think about the fact that men taught one another ‘tricks of the trade’ so that those very people could compete with them.” 

Duneier doesn’t quite know what to make of the fact that men on the street offer guidance to one another, even when they are in direct competition with each other to sell goods. He underscores the complex nature of relationships on Sixth Avenue and the surprising social support system on the block.

“Marvin is doing First Amendment work. And I think it’s great that he is out here.” 

A regular customer of Marvin sings his praises to Duneier, and she says that she thinks his presence on the streets is a right under the First Amendment. Her attitude reflects the sympathetic attitude of many liberal upper-middle-class residents in Greenwich Village.

“Once you’re homeless, you’re always homeless.” 

Mudrick links his mental state of homelessness with a physical condition, as his body has grown accustomed to sleeping on the street and he can longer adjust to softer surfaces, like beds. But it also speaks to a psychological phenomenon that some men use to justify why they are living on the streets. Once they have been unhoused, it can be hard to adjust to another style of living, even if they have the means to afford temporary housing.

“What do you have to do in order to be a customer?” 

Duneier asks this question of Mudrick, who worries about getting denied access to restrooms in restaurants due to not being seen as a customer because of his status as a poor black street worker. The question shows how race and class influence perceptions of who is a customer, since Duneier is allowed to use a restroom at McDonald’s without paying, but Hakim is on occasion denied access, even when he is a paying customer.

“Every policy has its unintended consequences.” 

Duneier talks about the French government, which installed public restrooms that became unusable due to men sleeping in the stalls. But he could also very well be alluding to the unintended consequences of Local Law 33 and Local Law 45—both passed with good intentions—that end up having unanticipated effects for the vendors of Sixth Avenue. He speaks to the shortsightedness of formal regulations like laws or policing.

“Sidewalks bring together people who do not know each other […] a certain degree of contact is useful or enjoyable, but you do not want them in your hair.” 

Jane Jacobs voices the delicate balancing act on the sidewalk: having numerous eyes on the street is important to maintain safety or experience enjoyment, but too much contact can be alarming. This tension becomes clear in the chapter “Talking to Women,” and underscores one of the reasons why BIDs want to curb the presence of street people. 

“They gotta deal with it.” 

Here, Mudrick expresses a sense of male entitlement and misogyny when he believes that passing women must put up with his flirtations, even if they are not desired. While Mudrick sees his behavior as harmless, his objectification of female pedestrians can exacerbate the perception of street people as dangerous individuals, leading to opposition to the presence of street vendors in the Village.

“Where I think there should be a change in the law is that I don’t think the First Amendment should protect street people. They are not homeless. These people never had homes.” 

BID President Honi Klein does not mince words when speaking of the people living and working on the street. She refuses to recognize the way Sixth Avenue has become a home for many of these vendors, even if they didn’t initially choose to be there. Her viewpoint reflects that of many local business owners, who feel the street people are not respectable members of their community and should not be present.  

“I’ve always treated you with the utmost respect, and, to tell you the truth, I don’t know why anyone would have a hard time with you, because you’ve always treated me with respect.” 

Respect is the undercurrent between vendors and law enforcement that enables them to work with each other. So the station officer stating this to Ishmael—who has come to the station to inquire after his belongings, which have been seized by the police—is a reinforcement of that basic fact. Especially for black men, who are accustomed to being treated with little respect and often made to prove that they are trustworthy, the officer’s recognition of the mutual respect between them helps diffuse some of the tension in this situation. Respect is also the key currency among vendors, who need to value one another’s work in order to mentor each other and self-regulate their informal economy.

“Because I am generally regarded as a Nigger, many white folks, even well meaning white folks, think I am stupid. Stupid means: The inability to achieve the tactical intelligence of a white person.” 

Hakim speaks bluntly about the ways in which white people—be they customers, law enforcement, or anyone else—assume a certain ignorance on his part because of his African-American identity. He speaks here to the racist assumptions that often underlie interactions between white and black individuals. Even Mitch is guilty of this when he expresses surprise that a man like Hakim would own a Rolodex in the first chapter. 

“They think these kids from the street […] or that we are addict parents. That is their opinion, because they don’t know my children.” 

Due to her daughter’s inability to afford childcare, Alice must often care for her young grandchildren while she’s working on the street. As such, she faces judgment from outsiders that is unique to her being virtually the only female vendor on the street. But the assumptions about their potential status as drug addicts comes from stereotypes that the general public holds about street people, and this perception affects all the vendors and contributes to the idea of deviant behavior that must be contained on the sidewalks. 

“But it cannot correctly be assumed that certain kinds of human beings constitute ‘broken windows,’ especially without an understanding of how these people live their lives.” 

Duneier challenges the adherents of broken-windows policing, who believe that the seemingly deviant behavior of street vendors and panhandlers creates an atmosphere conducive to crime, when, really, these individuals are just trying to create better lives for themselves within a framework possible to them. He becomes an advocate for a moment, and encourages readers to empathize with these men, rather than judge them. 

“That night I left this insular world in order to salvage whatever was left of myself and forge a new identity.” 

Hakim develops a new identity on the streets as an entrepreneur and intellectual, thus abandoning the corporate world, which he felt rejected him. Many of the other vendors see their work on Sixth Avenue as opening up a new chapter in their lives and offering an escape from the wrongs of their past.