Squeezing between the grate and the concrete of the street was difficult but Sabien found that the ladder was secure and able to hold his weight. As he descended, his eyes adjusted and he found himself lowering himself onto an iron scaffold complete with walkways and turn of the century lighting. To his surprise, the scaffolding was further connected to other ladders that descended even deeper into the bowels of New York. He followed the walkway in the direction of the Williamsburgh Bridge and after approximately 50 yards, took another ladder to the next level. Walking another hundred yards or so he came to a fork in the scaffolding where there were walkways stretching north, west and east. Another grating to the street level could be seen with its dim daylight stretching down to meet him from above. This must be the corner of Delancey and Essex, thought Sabien . He also thought that he could smell cooked food and he heard just a hint of human voices. Turning East and following the directions given to him by his stomach he soon came upon a large entryway with red arrows painted on broad steel girders. Passing through the entry, Sabien found himself in a dimly lit terminal with a sign announcing that he had arrived at the Essex Street Trolley Terminal. Sabien had remembered reading about the terminal which was built in 1908. It was used to transport passengers by trolley from Brooklyn to Manhattan until 1948 when trolleys were no longer used. At the center of the terminal stood about 12 people gathered around a large oil drum. The drum was alight with burning wood and several people were holding pointed sticks with what appeared to be skewered chicken, cooking in the flames. One of the men in the crowd turned quickly toward Sabien and, holding the glowing pointed stick in his direction in a defensive manner asked, “Who the fuck are you and whatta you want?”
“If we gather some bricks from the old passageway I just came from, we can make a firepit which would make it alot easier to light fires and cook,” said Sabien. “We can also get some utensils from the dumpsters behind the restaurant supply houses on the Bowery which would make it easier to cook the meals,” added Sabien.
“Not a bad couple of ideas,” said the sallow thin man who suddenly withdrew his makeshift sabre. “I’m Connely, the leader of the group,” added the man between deep gurgling coughing fits.
“I’m Phillip Sabien, and I just happen to be looking for a warm place to stay for the night and, by the way, that chicken smells great!” A couple of others in the crowd joined Connely in laughing; Connely though was also caught in another burst of uncontrolled coughing and difficulty breathing. This guy definitely has a disease and I hope I don’t get it, thought Sabien.
“Would you like a piece of chicken?” asked a disheveled though attractive brunette, seated on a plastic milk crate. Sabien accepted the small morsel off of the wooden skewer and ate the piece of meat quickly. The taste was a bit harsh and Sabien could not quickly identify the source of the meat.
“Not chicken is it?” asked Sabien.
Another voice in the crowd responded quickly, “Rail rabbit.” Sabien quickly found out that rail rabbits were rodents, specifically rats, that were caught in the underground railway tunnels. He also discovered that the group of people that he stumbled upon have been living under the streets of New York City for four years. Their histories were myriad with a divorced school teacher, a disbarred lawyer and a burned out emergency room physician, making up part of the cohesive entity. Sabien shared his misfortunes with his newly found friends and offered to help make life better any way he could, living under the streets of New York. He had found a new home, at least temporarily. On November 18th, 1987, Phillip Sabien was warm and had dined on his first course of rail rabbit.
Madeline
The Primate House of the North Central Zoo in the Bronx was a main attraction for visitors year round. The Zoo consisted of sixteen acres of prime real estate in the north central Bronx. The country-like atmosphere with tall hundred year old sycamores and oaks was in sharp contrast to the surrounding inner city neighborhood just outside the gates of the zoo. While parts of the city were flourishing, this part of the Bronx was slowly deteriorating. Gangs had recently attempted to take over the area while old- school Italian racketeers fought to retain the respect of these new tough guys. While the power struggles continued, this was still the best place in New York to get Italian food, and Louie’s Pizza shop still had the best fried calzones, complete with prosciutto! The primate house sat at the rear of the sprawling compound, abutting a large tract of state-owned land, fitted with large oaks and weeping willows. Despite rising costs for food and animal maintenance, the hours of operation allowed for public viewing daily except Mondays. As a matter of fact, the entire Zoo remained closed on Mondays, with only a skeleton crew on salary for animal feedings. Allison Carter, a part time veterinarian, was responsible for maintaining the health of the primates. Recently graduated from Yale, Allison found herself swimming in debt. Her dad had been an electrician with little savings, and her mom wholeheartedly felt that she should marry “money” and have children. Dashing mom’s hopes, Allison felt the need to follow her passion— increasing the awareness of the plight of the African Lowlands Gorilla. Allison’s love for animals began at the age of three with her first of three beagles. A trip to Africa during her fourth year Zoology internship shed light on the mass killing of primates to allow for the logging of precious wood species. Witnessing the murder of an adult female gorilla where poachers used shotguns and clubs on the animal left a very dark stain in her memory. She could not understand how people could be so cruel to innocent, harmless creatures. It was then she knew that she wanted to become a veterinarian and help this endangered species. Though dedicated, she quickly found that veterinarians specializing in primate medicine were not in high demand. That fact, along with $160,000 in student loans weighed heavily on her bank account every month. Dad helped with whatever he could, and mom had the I told you so attitude with each daily phone conversation.
Allison found much comfort in her interactions with the primates. Their personalities were much like those of homo-sapiens, and Allison was constantly surprised and amused at their antics. It almost seemed the animals knew what days she was working. After pulling into her parking space outside the compound, she would immediately hear the chatter from within. Roger, the spider monkey, would commence the greeting with four shrill yelps, alerting the others that Allison had arrived. JoJo, the Chacma baboon from southern Africa, acknowledged her arrival through quick grunts and rotational flips encompassing the length of her cage. Allison loved to tease JoJo. “You should be in the olympics!”. It was Madeline, though, who pulled at Allison’s heartstrings with each and every arrival. Madeline was a four hundred and fifty pound Eastern Lowlands gorilla whose mother, father and brother were brutally killed by poachers. Although she suffered a gunshot wound to the head and was left for dead, Madeline was later found by a farmer and ultimately transported to New York for life saving cranial surgery. Allison had been her caretaker ever since and had developed a strong bond with her. With each arrival Madeline would be at the front of the cage and present Allison with a fruit that was saved from her prior meal. Today was special. A ripe peach, Madeline’s favorite, was the offering of the day.
Sam, the Common Chimpanzee from the Congo, occupied one of the cages in the rear of the compound. He stood over five feet tall and weighed one hundred and thirty two pounds. In addition to his large size, he was also very curious if not down-right mischievous. Once, while being fed, he actually grabbed the key to the cage and attempted to insert the key into the lock. Luckily, his escape attempt was thwarted. His relationship with Donald, the janitor responsible for cleaning the cages and placing food in the cages, was never the same again. As a matter of fact, Sam showed increasing aggressiveness towards him. Donald, too, would sometimes “forget” to feed Sam.
Allison monitored the general health of the group, as primates may develop many diseases similar to humans. Tuberculosis, herpes virus and salmonella