Bid operate Criminal courts

7/29/2019 Bid operate Criminal courts

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Some readers are skeptical of the claim that BIDs operate some criminal courtswhere vendors are tried and some NYPD precincts in NYC, not just parks.Here are four of thousands of references on this privatization phenomena....BIDs operate criminal courts/NYPD precinctsEXCERPT:"An experiment that involves some elements of community courts is,however, underway in the Times Square area. Last year, Times Squarebusiness leaders [The Times Sq BID] became interested in opening acourt to help deal with the disorder endemic to their community. Theproposal involved setting up a local Criminal Court arraignment partwith a regular judge. Each day the court would handle some sixtydefendants charged with crimes such as theft of service, prostitution,petty larceny, possession of stolen property, unlicensed peddling, andlow-level drug offenses. As in the Brooklyn proposal, facilities wouldbe available for alternative sentencing. "This would be aproblem-solver court focusing on immediacy rather than severity of

sentence," says the plan's principal author, John Feinblatt of theFund for the City of New York."From: In New York City, a "Community Court" and a New Legal CultureDowntown Alliance BID operates an NYPD police precincthttp://www.downtownny.com/aboutus/downtowncenter/The Downtown Alliance works hand-in-hand with the New York City PoliceDepartment to ensure that Lower Manhattan remains one of the safestneighborhoods in New York City. Our public safety officers share afacility with units from the NYPD, located at 104 Washington Streetbetween Rector and Carlisle Streets.Lower Manhattan had been without a police facility for more than aquarter of a century. In 1973, the former First Precinct left itshistoric home at 100 Old Slip and moved into the Fourth Precinct'sstationhouse on Canal Street. The consolidated two precincts became"the new 1st Precinct." In 1995 the Downtown Alliance, in concordancewith the NYPD, deemed it essential restore a police presence belowChambers Street.Together we established the NYPD Downtown Center a 200 personmulti-purpose facility designed to improve the coordination of publicsafety efforts for the Downtown community by bringing public andprivate security operations together under one roof. The DowntownAlliance and NYPD work together on many public safety issues andcommunity outreach initatives. The facility is wired withstate-of-the-art technology to efficiently utilize all available

resources and operates 24 hours-a-day/7 days-a-week.http://www.nyc.gov/html/om/html/99a/pr094-99.htmlRelease #094-99Contact: Colleen Roche/Curt Ritter (212) 788-2958MAYOR GIULIANI AND POLICE COMMISSIONER SAFIR PRESIDE OVER CEREMONY FORNYPD DOWNTOWN CENTERNew Downtown Manhattan Police Facility Will House Officers From ThreeSeparate NYPD UnitsMayor Rudolph W. Giuliani and New York City Police Commissioner Howard


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Safir today joined Alliance for Downtown New York Chairman RobertDouglas in announcing the opening of the new police facility in LowerManhattan. The new site, known as The NYPD Downtown Center, will houseofficers from the Scooter Task force, the Citywide Homeless OutreachUnit and the Movie and T.V. Unit.The NYPD Downtown Center, located at 104 Washington Street betweenRector and Carlisle Streets, will occupy 9,600 square feet of thefirst floor and the adjacent basement. The new facility will providemuch needed space for a police force that has expanded by 45.5% since1998. In addition to the officers from the three NYPD units, the sitewill also be the new headquarters for the Downtown Alliance securityforce."It is a pleasure to be here with all of you to cut the ribbon on thisnew substation, which will be a very important resource for the NYPDand for the thousands of people who live and work in downtownManhattan," said Mayor Giuliani. "I want to thank the DowntownAlliance for its cooperation on this project. They understand thatthis facility will not only benefit this immediate area - which hasbeen without a police facility since 1973 -- but will enable all the

Citywide NYPD units housed here to be as productive as possible."The historic drop in crime since 1994 has given way to a tremendousrenaissance in New York City," the Mayor continued. "Lower Manhattan,once an after-hours ghost town, is becoming Manhattan's fastestgrowing around-the-clock community, with the creation of more than4,000 new residential units in the core of the Financial District andBattery Park City. There are more than 20,000 people currentlyresiding in the area south of Chambers Street, and that number isexpected to climb to 30,000 people by 2002.Police Commissioner Safir said, "The NYPD is proud to have played apart in restoring New York City by achieving historic low levels ofcrime. It's important that the police and the private sector worktogether for the betterment of all concerned, and today's grandopening is a fine example of how effective these partnerships can be."Downtown Alliance Chairman Robert Douglas said, "I want to thank theMayor and the Police Commissioner for their support and ongoingcommitment to reinstating a police presence in Lower Manhattan. WithDowntown's emergence as a 24-hour community of residents, workers, andvisitors, the time for a permanent police facility has certainlyarrived."Since the Lower Manhattan Revitalization Plan was launched in 1995,

the area has attracted more than 275 high tech firms and thecommercial vacancy rate has fallen to 9.1%, half of what it was in1995. With an increase of residents, schools, retail shops andtourists, the NYPD decided to restore police presence in LowerManhattan and to maintain it jointly with the Alliance for DowntownNew York. The former First Precinct left its quarters at 100 Old Slipin 1973 and moved into the Fourth Precinct on Ericson Place to becomethe new First Precinct.The Alliance for Downtown New York, Inc. manages the Downtown LowerManhattan Business Improvement District, one square mile comprisingthe southernmost part of Manhattan. The Alliance provides supplemental


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sanitation and security services; economic development; street scope;and transportation improvements, marketing and tourist services.The NYPD Downtown Center was designed by the architectural firm Mancini-Duffy.NY TimesMayor Defends Payment for a Police BaseBy MICHAEL COOPERPublished: February 18, 1998Angrily brushing aside criticism that the city is placing its policeservices up for sale, Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani yesterday defended thecity's decision to accept $5 million from a business group to put apolice substation near Wall Street, saying it was analogous to hisplan to move a police base from one part of Queens to another.But community leaders in the Bronx and Queens questioned why the Mayorwas allowing police officers to be diverted to the planned substationin lower Manhattan, one of the safest parts of the city, and theynoted that the Queens center was being paid for with public, notprivate, funds.

The city agreed to the lower Manhattan plan after the Alliance forDowntown New York, a business improvement district representing theWall Street area, said that it would pay between $600,000 and $700,000a year for 10 years to set up and maintain the substation along with anew museum of police history.The Wall Street area is part of the First Precinct, whose stationhouse is at 16 Ericsson Place, near the entrance to the HollandTunnel. The new substation is expected to open in July at 104Washington Street, closer to the core of the Financial District. Itwill house 40 police officers from the First Precinct who patrol thearea on scooters; about 75 officers from the citywide HomelessOutreach Unit who are relocating their base from Brooklyn, and about25 officers from the citywide movie and television unit, which isrelocating from midtown.The move raised anew the issue of whether business improvementdistricts are wielding too much influence over public policy, andwhether wealthy communities receive a disproportionate share of cityservices.Noting that residents of Co-op City have wanted their own policesubstation for more than 20 years, the Bronx Borough President,Fernando Ferrer, asked, ''What do we tell them, that if they can kick

in to the Police Museum fund they can get a substation?'' And Queensresidents and public officials complained that they have wanted asubstation in the sprawling 105th Precinct -- which stretches from theBellrose section to Rosedale -- for even longer.Mayor Giuliani, for his part, roundly denounced his critics for whathe called their ''overzealous, out-of-control populist reaction.'' Andhe countered that the 105th Precinct stands to benefit from the city'splans to relocate the Queens South Task Force from its current site inFresh Meadows to a new building on Francis Lewis Boulevard near theSunrise Highway.


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Speaking of the new substation in the Financial District, MayorGiuliani said: ''Police officers already assigned to the precinct aregoing to be redeployed and some specialized units who need a home aregoing to be put there. It is precisely what is being done in Queens.''But the Queens Borough President, Claire Shulman, said yesterday thatPolice Commissioner Howard Safir had assured her within the last twomonths that the 105th Precinct would get its own substation to helpits officers patrol the vast precinct, where emergency response timeis the slowest in the city. She said that she understood Mr. Safir tosay that the substation would be part of the 105th Precinct, not a newlocation of the task force, which is responsible for all of southernQueens. ''That precinct is 13 or 14 miles long,'' Ms. Shulman said.''We have been agitating for this for a long time.''Marilyn Mode, a spokeswoman for the Police Department, said yesterday:''We're committed to a substation in Queens South. Right now, the planis to house the task force there.''Ms. Mode said there was still a possibility of opening a substation ofthe 105th Precinct there.

Councilman Sheldon S. Leffler, the chairman of the City Council'spublic safety committee, said yesterday that the transfer of the taskforce would have little benefit for the community -- and none forQueens as a whole. ''This is the movement of a task force from onelocation to another location,'' Mr. Leffler said. ''At best, it's awash for Queens. It's not even a wash: you're uprooting decades ofdependency of people who live in Fresh Meadows who have become used tohaving the police at that location.''When he announced the plans for the lower Manhattan substation onMonday, Mayor Giuliani made no mention of the move of the Queens taskforce.The plan to have a business improvement district sponsor a policesubstation is unique in the city. Michael A. Weiss, the president ofthe city's Business Improvement District Managers Association, saidthat he had never heard of a comparable arrangement or even of adiscussion of the possibilities.Lawrence O. Houstoun, who wrote ''Business Improvement Districts''(Urban Land Institute, 1997), said that a similar plan has been put inplace in Philadelphia, where a downtown business improvement districtbuilt and maintains a police station.

Carl Weisbrod, the president of the Alliance for Downtown New York,said the substation would help the area better serve its nascentresidential community. ''Within lower Manhattan, patrol strength willremain the same,'' he said. ''But having the scooter unit of the FirstPrecinct operate out of the lower part of the First Precinct -- evenif it's just the scooters coming and going -- it will make an enormousdifference.''Commissioner Safir's wife, Carol, volunteers as the chairwoman of aboard of directors working to establish the police museum. Mr. Safirand Michael O'Connor, the vice president of operations for theAlliance for Downtown New York, both said that her position had no


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role in brokering the deal between the business improvement districtand the city.http://www.ncjrs.gov/txtfiles/commcrt.txtIn New York City, a Community Court and a New Legal Culture.Series: NIJ Program FocusPublished: February 199618 pages40,757 bytesIn New York City, a "Community Court" and a NewLegal CultureBy David C. AndersonHighlightsThe recently initiated Midtown Community Court,whose jurisdiction sprawls across more than 350blocks of Manhattan, contains everything it needsinside one building: a courtroom, a social services

center, a community service program, and innovativecomputer support.The court, housed in the old Magistrate's Courtbuilding next to the Midtown North police station,follows a philosophy that differs from mosttraditional courts in its handling of misdemeanorarraignments. Focusing on low-level offenses thatcan bring down a community's morale, it holdsdefendants immediately accountable for theircrimes. But the court also addresses issuesunderlying the problems that led to the offenses byproviding social services such as drug treatment.The building itself presents an atypical image: Ithas clean, light-filled rooms that are secured withglass panels, not steel bars.In its first 14 months, from October 1993 toDecember 1994, the Midtown Community Courtarraigned 11,959 defendants. Today the court hearsabout 55 to 60 new cases per day. Courtadministrators are proud of the 75-percentcompletion rate for sanctions for communityservice, which they say exceeds that of other busyurban courts. Another indicator of effectiveness is

that about 16 percent of offenders sentenced tocommunity or social services have voluntarilycontinued with such programs as drug treatment, HIVtesting, and employment counseling after completingtheir sentences.Community service projects are assigned inconjunction with police officers and with the TimesSquare Business Improvement District. The policeconsider the court a new resource for theircommunity policing activities, and the businessassociation provides work for 10 to 20 offenders


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per week. Many projects involve painting andcleanup tasks to improve the neighborhood and detercrime.For those who draw a short community servicesentence of 1 day's work, it is possible to bearrested, arraigned, and to complete 6 hours ofcommunity service in less than 24 hours. The courtaims to make accountability swift because delaysbetween conviction and assignments to fulfillcommunity service sentences have allowed many toavoid their obligations. This efficiency wins thepraise of police as well as court administrators,defendants, and residents.The custom-designed computer software, the highcommunity service compliance rates, and thepositive response of defendants to the socialservice programs may indicate promising strategies.A National Institute of Justice-sponsoredevaluation of the court is being conducted.

At 10 a.m., John Megaw's cubicle on the sixth flooris crowded with luggage--tote bags, a plastic sackof kid's clothes, and a black canvas duffel bag thesize of a small refrigerator. These are the worldlypossessions of Carol, whose daughter Tamika, anenergetic 3-year-old, is running around the officeas if it were her personal playground.Megaw shoves his way past the luggage to his desk.If all goes as planned today, Carol and Tamikashould be going home. Several days ago, the20-year-old was again arrested for prostitution,sentenced to 4 days of community service, and putto work in the mail shop down in the basement.There she met Willie Figueroa, the ex-con who runsthe shop and doubles as informal counselor to hisworkers.Carol trusted Figueroa and confided to him that shewas in over her head. She and Tamika had hooked upwith some friends and come to New York from Kansas10 months ago, high on dreams of a fast life andeasy money on the streets of Manhattan. Now she hadcrashed: A pimp took her money, abused her when she

complained, then took Tamika and held her hostagewhen Carol tried to leave. She had finally managedto get Tamika away from him and moved in with agirlfriend. But now she wanted out. The quieterstreets of Kansas City and a room at her mother'shouse never looked better.Figueroa spoke to Megaw, head of social servicesfor the court, who mobilized his team. Theydiscovered that Carol had an outstanding warrant ona previous arrest, which would have to be pled out.But they believed they could get everything


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resolved if she promised to leave town. They calledher mother and made sure she would be willing totake her daughter back. They then got theTraveler's Aid Society to pay for one-way bustickets to Kansas City. Today they would take thewhole matter before the judge.A Different MessageIt is a long cab ride from New York City's maincriminal court building at 100 Centre Street,downtown by City Hall, to the new Midtown CommunityCourt tucked in next to a police precinct stationon West 54th Street. The two courts are miles apartin atmosphere and operating philosophy as well.Downtown, the routine continues to be ruled by theimperative of the calendar; there is an emphasis onmoving cases along that sometimes makes the processfeel more like a cattle drive than the deliberateadministration of justice. For low-level

"quality-of-life" cases--prostitution, shoplifting,subway turnstile jumping--corners are cut so muchthat the idea of effective sanction, and byextension the law itself, can lose all meaning.In the Midtown Community Court, the staffing,technology, and architecture combine to proclaim adifferent message: Take the defendants one by oneand hold them immediately accountable with swift,real sanctions. Beyond that, pay attention to whothey are and address the issues underlying thecharges that brought them in. Above all, keep theemphasis on quality-of-life crimes, those pervasivelow-level offenses that undermine a wholecommunity's morale.Following these principles, the Midtown CommunityCourt arraigned 11,959 cases from the time it firstopened in October 1993 through the end of 1994.Most were commonplace misdemeanors.Theft-of-service (turnstile-jumping) casesaccounted for 38 percent of the total; unlicensedvending, 17 percent; petty larceny (shoplifting inthe area's big department stores), 16 percent; andprostitution, 10 percent. A mix of assaults, minor

drug possession cases, and other offenses made upthe remaining 19 percent.So far, the court only handles arraignments; casesgoing to trial are sent downtown. Of the 76 percentpleading guilty at a community court arraignmentbetween October 1993 and the end of 1994, 68percent were sentenced to community service.Another 10 percent were referred to items on thecourt's menu of social services: drug treatment,"health education" lectures for prostitutes andtheir customers, employment counseling, and youth


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counseling. Those given a community servicesentence frequently may have been required toattend a social service session as well. (Under NewYork law, a judge may impose a "conditionaldischarge" sentence upon conviction, obliging anoffender to submit to various requirements for upto a year.) Only 7 percent were sentenced to jail.Disposing of cases in these ways, the court handledsomewhat less than its full share of the overallManhattan misdemeanor arraignment caseload, whichtotaled 72,848 in 1994. But it did enough todemonstrate the idea's value. The community courtexperiment has drawn widespread praise from thesurrounding neighborhood, police, and evendefendants. But skeptics continue to question theextra expense for a "boutique" court in an areathat is important to the city's power elite.The Concept: Community and Quality of Life

The idea for the Midtown Community Court grew outof conversations between Gerald Schoenfeld,chairman of the Shubert theater organization, andHerbert Sturz, a real estate executive who hadserved previously as City Planning Commissioner andas Deputy Mayor for Criminal Justice. The twodiscussed the need for stronger enforcement ofcrimes that erode the quality of life in the areasurrounding Times Square and the Broadway theaterdistrict. Schoenfeld offered an empty theater, rentfree for 3 years. The idea of putting justice onstage, live, intrigued Sturz. "I said, `Gerry, giveme a theater and I'll get you a court.' "The court-in-a-theater never opened. Actors Equityobjected to the loss of another stage, and realestate owners worried about the potential threat tothe block's ambience. By that time, however, Sturzhad lined up some powerful players behind thecommunity court idea. They included Robert Keating,then Administrative Judge of the New York CityCriminal Court, Lee P. Brown, then New York CityPolice Commissioner, and Sol Wachtler, then ChiefJudge of the State Court of Appeals.

"It was a fortuitous circumstance," Keatingrecalls. Other criminal justice leaders in the citywere publicly discussing the potential value ofneighborhood magistrate's courts to deal withlow-level offenses--a system that had existed inthe city until courts were centralized in 1962--andthe police department was aggressively implementingcommunity policing. In the end, the court'splanners settled on the old Magistrate's CourtBuilding next to the Midtown North police precinctstation.


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They raised $1.4 million from foundations,corporations, and the city to finance renovation ofthe space. Keating arranged for a court "part"--NewYork's term for a judge plus court officers andother staff--to move to Midtown. To administer theproject, Sturz recruited John Feinblatt, a formerLegal Aid attorney who had been serving as deputydirector of the city's Victim Services Agency.The Building: Glass Instead of BarsThe space that opened in October 1993 made somedefinite statements. Instead of the squalid holdingpens that had caused scandals downtown, defendantswould await arraignment in clean, bright roomssecured with clear glass panels instead of steelbars. "This is a court that does businessdifferently," Feinblatt explains. "We wanted tocommunicate that nonverbally."More important, the court houses under one roof

everything it needs to deal with low-level cases."The courthouse," Feinblatt asserts, "should bemore than just a courtroom." At a social servicescenter on the sixth floor, counselors meet withdefendants individually and in groups, whileadministrators of the court's community serviceprogram assign jobs in the neighborhood or in thebuilding itself. A computer network fitted withcustom-designed software constantly updates thecourt calendar and offenders' records (see "ThePower of Information").To an extent, the court resembles some of thespecialized drug courts being set up in othercities where judges, with the help of caseworkersattached to the court, craft sentences for drugoffenders that combine supervision and treatment.But there is a crucial difference: The communitycourt remains generic, handling arraignments anddisposing of all sorts of misdemeanors, not justpossession or sale of drugs. Such specialization,Feinblatt points out, may arbitrarily limit thecourt's reach. "The standard case here is a drugaddict charged with shoplifting," notes MichelleSviridoff, the community court's director of

research. As a neighborhood institution, theMidtown Community Court stands ready to deal withany low-level offenses committed in theneighborhood.Area of jurisdiction. The term "community court,"however, is in a sense misleading. The court'sjurisdiction sprawls across more than 350 blocks ofMidtown Manhattan that include several diverseareas: the old West Side residential neighborhoodsof Chelsea and Clinton (also known as Hell'sKitchen), where gentrification has recently


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softened a rough blue-collar tradition; thehistorically seedy blocks around Times Square; thebustling garment district, home to Macy's and otherlarge department stores; the theater districtinvaded each night by upscale tourists,suburbanites, and limos full of local glitterati;and the shining office towers that sprang up alongBroadway and Seventh Avenue during the 1980's.Hundreds of thousands of people surge into and outof the area each day for entertainment, shopping,and legitimate work. Thousands of others come fromelsewhere to shoplift, panhandle, deal drugs, orwork as prostitutes. Even if the community courthas no cohesive geographic community, however, ithonors the idea of community in two ways: It holdslow-level criminals fully accountable for theircrimes while helping them deal with their problems,and it helps to control chronic misconduct thatpoisons the experience of daily life for residents,businesses, and visitors alike.

The Sentencing ProcessBy 12 noon, Carol and Tamika have settled in theacupuncture room. "I was down to 100 Centre Streetthree times" on arrests for prostitution, she says."The first time they gave me 2 days communityservice."Did she do it? "No," she giggles. She just ignoredthe order, and nothing more happened. "I neverreceived a warrant or anything."At her second appearance downtown, "They let me gobecause they kept me in there so long" beforearraignment--a sentence New York judges call "timeserved."After the third appearance, she again ignored hercommunity service assignment. The judge issued awarrant, but the police never followed up.And how does the community court compare with that?"Every time that I came in here and had to docommunity service, I did it. There was only one

time that I didn't finish up the 2 days, and theygave me a warrant, like, the next day."Instant accountability. Defendants accustomed tothe routine downtown typically are startled by theefficiencies of the Midtown Community Court. Whenthe holding pens at 100 Centre Street are full,offenders may wait hours or days as they areshifted from one precinct house lockup to another,then get sentenced only to time served. Those whoare arraigned more promptly can be sentenced to acommunity service program known for its poor


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compliance rates.On West 54th Street, defendants coming before JudgeJudy Harris Kluger are arraigned within 18 hours onaverage, half the downtown figure. When shesentences them to community service or to a socialservice consul-tation, they are promptly hustledupstairs to begin the process. For those who draw ashort sentence of a single day's work, it ispossible to be arrested, arraigned, and to fulfillone's debt to society in less than 24 hours. Theidea is to make the accountability swift becausedelays allow so many to escape it altogether.Some defendants appreciate the efficiency. When thecourt was being planned, skeptics worried that mostdefendants would try to get their cases adjournedto 100 Centre Street by pleading not guilty. Therethey could count on being sentenced to time servedin the lockup or to unsupervised releaseconditioned on staying out of trouble for a year.

It has turned out, however, that the communitycourt's adjournment rate is 24 percent, comparableto the rate for a similar mix of cases downtown.Many defendants apparently are put off more by theprospect of longer hours in filthy lockups than byactually having to do community service. "Thisbeats going downtown because it's faster," saysEdgar, arrested for shoplifting in Macy's, as hespreads paint on a wall at a work-site. "You go in,you see the judge, and you're out by 9 or 10 in themorning."Defense lawyers' opinions. The success at speedingup the process inspires misgivings on the part ofdefense lawyers, however. "The defense attorney'sbest tools are delay and the possibility thatthings will fall through the cracks," Feinblattasserts. "In this court, there's no delay, andthings don't fall through the cracks."Tom Tracy, a Legal Aid lawyer who has practiced inthe community court since January 1994, has toagree. "Looking at it strictly as an attorney, Iwould have to say probably I would like it better

downtown," he says. "They get a lot more`time-served' sentences downtown than they get uphere. But as a person, I think this is better. In alot of ways this helps the client more."Police support. The efficiency wins the praise ofpolice at the Midtown North precinct station nextdoor. The neighborhood court, says Kevin O'Connor,community affairs officer for the precinct, "makesit easier to make an arrest, especially forpro-stitution." As a result, according to O'Connor,more arrests are made. The officers also find they


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can get much more information about the outcome ofarrests than they can from the court downtown. "Ona monthly basis, we get a record of all thedispositions of arrests sent to the court. If anofficer is interested in a certain case, he can gointo the court building and find out what happenedto that person. Sometimes, if there's a warrant,the guy who made the arrest knows where that personis and can go right out and pick her up." Ingeneral, O'Connor says, the court leads policeofficers to believe that "instead of a revolvingdoor on quality-of-life crimes, you can actually dosomething."Sanctions as ServicesCommunity service. Offenders sentenced to communityservice report to a coordinator who assigns them towork crews. (To earn credit for a day, an offendermust work a 6-hour shift.) Jobs inside thebuilding, such as collecting trash, mopping floors,

and staffing "Times Square Express," an inhousebusiness that stuffs and mails envelopes, aredesigned to provide quick sanctions for low-leveloffenses. The outside crews pay back the communitymore directly. They weed and water trees, cleansidewalks, scrub graffiti off walls, or do simplemaintenance tasks for neighborhood organizations.Officers pursuing community policing projectsconsider the court a new resource. O'Connor tellsof a recent case where precinct officers soughtremoval of a sidewalk shack that had become ahangout for drug dealers. The restaurateur whoowned the property agreed to tear down the shackbut wanted the wall behind it painted a brightercolor to make it more visi-ble after dark and thusdiscourage loitering. The court's community serviceprogram supplied the painting crew.The mail shop. Court managers are particularlyproud of the mail shop, which has processed nearlya million pieces since it opened at the end of1993. The operation has become a major source ofpublicity for the court since it began stamping itslogo on the mail it sends out for nonprofit groups

in the area.To recruit its manager, Willie Figueroa, the courtcalled the For- tune Society, a group that helpsfind work for offenders coming out of prison. Courtadministrators thought Figueroa's background as aconvicted drug dealer might prove an asset, andthey were right. In addition to taking overmanagement of the small enterprise, Figueroaquickly established rapport with the workers anddeveloped a role for himself as an informal adjunctto the social service team. "I think that my past


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has a lot to do with me being able to connect withpeople," he says. "It breaks a lot of barriers."In addition to the convicts who sit at long tablesfolding and stuffing papers into envelopes,Figueroa introduces his "volunteer trainees"--people who served their sentences in the shop, thenreturned on their own to help out because they likethe atmosphere and figure they can pick up someuseful skills. "I do this to keep my mindoccupied," says Jean, an elderly man who hasappeared regularly since he finished a sentence forsubway fare evasion in September 1994. He now helpsFigueroa parcel out work to the offenders andreassemble packages for mailing.Work crews. A few blocks away at a residence forsenior citizens, Hamadou Seck supervises two menand a woman who are painting a room to be used as alounge. Ruth, sentenced to a day of work forpanhandling, seems to be enjoying herself as she

learns how to use the paint roller. "This is a neatidea," she says. "I like to paint."Seck, a Senegalese who had worked as a courttranslator before his promotion to work supervisor,says not all his clients are so amiable. "Someresist you; they don't want to work. They try totest you; they play games." When they do, he sendsthem home, telling them they can come back to worka full shift the next day or go back before thejudge. "I make clear to them that they have tocomply. Most go home and think about it, then electto come back the next day."Social services. The court's sixth-floor socialservice complex gives the judge options tosubstitute for or augment community service. Theonsite social service staff keeps track of openingsfor long-term drug treatment, a frequent sentenceimposed as a condition of release. Those withlesser drug problems and offenses are commonlysentenced to a few days of 5-hour"treatment-readiness" meetings at the court. Thecourse includes lectures on drug treatment and thehealth risks of drug abuse, group discussions, a

job preparedness workshop, a one-on-one conferencewith a counselor, and an acupuncture session.Counselors try to identify those who seem goodcandidates for long-term drug treatment and offerto get them into programs.Prostitutes and their customers may be sentenced toattend lectures and group discussions thatemphasize the health risks of sex for hire. Whenoffenders cut these classes or drop out of drugtreatment, the court issues warrants just as ifthey had failed to complete a community service


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sentence. Offenders may also voluntarily choose toattend classes for GED preparation and English as asecond language.Arleen Ramos, the court's resource coordinator,compiles data gathered by prearraignmentinterviewers and assesses how defendants willhandle community service assignments and whatsocial programs they might need. She enters herfindings into the computer under "resourcecoordinator's comments," thus giving the judgeinformation about the client before it getsfiltered through opposing attorneys. "Arleen makesthe sixth floor and the court feel seamless,"Feinblatt explains. "We think you need in acourtroom someone who is not the tool of eitherdefense or prosecution, someone who can makeuntainted use of information the judge needs."The Court's Impact

At 4:30 p.m., Megaw huddles in the courtroom withCarol's attorney and the assistant districtattorney at the bench while Carol stands at thedefense table, Tamika squirming in her arms. Megawand Carol's lawyer explain the deal: She will pleadguilty to the outstanding warrant from downtown ifthe judge will sentence her to the 4 days ofcommunity service she has just completed. ThenMegaw will make sure she goes home. The prosecutoragrees, the judge nods, and all return to theirplaces.Asked how she pleads to the charge of loitering forpurposes of prostitution, Carol answers "guilty" ina barely audible voice."I understand you have plans to go a differentroute in life," Judge Kluger says, looking down ather from the bench. "I wish you luck."The statistics. In the 14 months from October 1993to December 1994, the Midtown Community Courtarraigned 11,959 defendants, and the rate hasincreased in recent months. Today the court hearsabout 55 to 60 new cases per day, suggesting an

annual total likely to reach 15,000.Of the new cases, about half are "on- line"arraignments of people arrested and held at thecourt during the previous 24 hours; the other halfare people at liberty who come to court after beingissued "desk appearance tickets" by the police.Community court recidivists account for about 12percent of the total caseload, a figure that hasbegun to climb.For the first year the overwhelming majority of


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cases involved prostitution, shoplifting, subwayturnstile jumping, and illegal street vending. Inrecent months, the court has begun taking low-leveldrug cases after resolving objections of theDistrict Attorney's office. The prosecutors hadinsisted on face-to-face interviews with arrestingofficers downtown for preparation of their writtenaffidavits. Now, by agreement, drug cases stay inthe community court, but the officers go downtownfor interviews, and their affidavits are faxed backto West 54th Street. Eventually, the court hopes tospare police officers the trip downtown with avideo link to the D.A.'s office.The shorter time between arrest and arraignment andthe small number sentenced to jail afterarraignment add up to vindication of a basicoperating premise: The Midtown Community Courteffectively substitutes community service andsocial service referrals for days in custody.

In addition, court administrators point with somepride to the 75 percent completion rate (throughthe end of 1994) for community service. Theybelieve this greatly exceeds levels of completionin most busy urban courts and that it results fromthe immediacy made possible by housing the courtand the program under one roof. Offenders startorientation for community service as soon as thesentence is imposed instead of being told to reportthe next day, the next week, or the next month.More traditional community service programstypically lose huge numbers in the interim. "Themore time between the day people come into courtand the day they start work," Feinblatt says, "themore compliance goes down."Perhaps the most interesting figure, however, isthe surprising percentage of offenders sentenced tocommunity service or social service who continuewith social service programs voluntarily aftercompleting their sentences. Some 16 percent ofoffenders sentenced during the court's first 12months of operation continued on the social servicecaseload. The most frequent requests are for HIVtesting, employment counseling, and help finding

substance abuse treatment. About a dozen offendersper month volunteer for long-term drug treatment orcase management. "This is the most provocativething that's happening here," Feinblatt says. "Itmakes you ask the question, `What is a courthouse?'What role should it play as an entry point forother social services? What we're actually seeingis that mandated short-term interventions canproduce voluntary long-term treatment effects.""The court gave me a chance to help myself," saysThomas, who was arrested for drug possession,sentenced to 4 days of treatment-readiness classes,


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and eventually placed in a long-term treatmentprogram. "My arrest was God sent. I didn't know howto help myself."The costs. The court's critics, especially in theoffice of the Manhattan District Attorney, arguethat, for all its cleanliness, competence, andcomputers, the community court does not do enoughwork to justify its extra cost.The community service program, the social services,the new technology, and other expenses add $1.3million to the court's annual operating cost, overand above the basic cost of staffing the courtroom.At a rate of 15,000 cases per year, the extra costsfor arraignment in the community court come toabout $87 per case, borne in equal measure by city,Federal, and private funds. Meanwhile, because itis open only 5 days a week rather than every day,the Midtown Community Court contributes less thanits share to managing the overall criminal court

caseload in Manhattan. Its capacity also remainslimited by the fact that, so far, it remainsstrictly an arraignment court. Any case going totrial has to be sent downtown.Officials of the Manhattan District Attorney'soffice also lament that transfer of downtown courtstaff to West 54th Street limited flexibility withdaily shifts in caseloads. As a result, thedowntown court had to open two extra courtrooms 2days per week, incurring an additional expense.Furthermore, during the court's first year, thecommunity court arraigned few people in custody andinstead filled its calendar with people reportingfor desk appearance tickets. That caused resentmentdowntown because the main court considers itselfheavily burdened by the need to arraign newarrestees in custody.By the end of 1994, the number of custodyarraignments in Midtown Community Court hadincreased. If the overall caseload has risen to theestimated level of 15,000 arraignments per year,that figure seems adequate enough for 1 of 6courtrooms handling an overall misdemeanor caseload

of about 73,000. Even so, the criticism persists.The critics also object to the idea that Midtown--home to such influential forces as the theaterindustry and the New York Times--could enjoy thebenefits of its own court at the expense of 100Centre Street. The community court is proving to betoo expensive to replicate in neighborhoods allover the city for a modern revival of magistrate'scourts."We're not opposed to progress," says BarbaraJones, First Assistant District Attorney, "but we'd


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much rather see the money spent down here." Thekind of money being spent on the community court inMidtown, she says, would make it possible to set upa drug court at 100 Centre Street for the benefitof the whole borough. Jones questions developingcommunity courts only in certain areas of the citythat can raise the money to operate them.Feinblatt acknowledges the additional costs butargues that they are likely more than offset bysystemic savings. Reducing arrest-to-arraignmenttime, for example, saves on custody charges thatrun from $60 to $150 per day per prisoner. So maycommunity service sentences that avoid short jailsentences, though the extent to which they actuallydo so has yet to be established. In the first year,Feinblatt adds, the community service programcontributed nearly $250,000 worth of work for thecommunity, and the mail shop did an additional$57,000 worth for nonprofit agencies, amounts thatare likely to increase in subsequent years as the

court handles more cases.Even so, it may be hard to capture savings spreadacross other agencies in a way that makes itpossible to balance the court system's budget. TheNational Institute of Justice (NIJ) recently fundedan evaluation of the Midtown Community Court alongwith two other specialized courts (Dade County,Florida's, drug court and domestic violence courts)to assess the effects of innovative courts. Resultsare expected to be available in 1996.Meanwhile, Feinblatt says, the court justifies itsexpense as it demonstrates more effective ways todeal with low-level cases. The computer softwarethat brings more information to the judge's bench,the high compliance rates for community service,and the surprisingly positive response ofdefendants to the social service center all offervaluable new lessons for court administrators inNew York City and across the United States.As for the concerns about elitism, Feinblatt pointsto plans for a second community court in the RedHook area of Brooklyn, a neighborhood asimpoverished and troubled as any in the city. NIJ

is finishing its final evaluation report for RedHook's proposed Community Justice Center. Abuilding has been found in which to house thecenter, but the project coordinators need to findthe money to renovate it. Whether that effort willbe able to count on the kind of business supportthat made the Midtown Community Court possibleremains to be seen. It will, however, have the fullcooperation of Brooklyn District Attorney CharlesHynes."We can't afford to put these courts all over the


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city," observes Judge Judith Kaye, the currentchief judge of the State Court of Appeals, "but wecan put them in some places, and we can restore thefeeling of confidence people have that the courtscan work for them."Cleaning up the neighborhoods. Beyond the debatesover administration and costs lies the ultimatequestion of how the court affects its community.Though the answer appears to be positive, it isalso nearly impossible to determine with anyprecision because the court is only one element ina larger dynamic of improvement in the Midtownarea. The court's opening coincided with theestablishment of the Times Square BusinessImprovement District (BID), which movedaggressively to clean up the neighborhood.New York law permits property owners in a cityneighborhood to collect supplemental taxes and usethe funds to enhance city services like street

cleaning, lighting, and security patrols. GretchenDykstra, president of the Times Square BID, sits onthe community court's advisory committee. Eachweek, her organization provides work for 10 to 20offenders sentenced to community service. While shehas only praise for the court, she also makes clearthe contribution of the BID's own security andsanitation crews for reducing low-level crime andimproving the quality of life. To her, and to mostother observers, the BID and the community courtenjoy a symbiosis that makes it hard to say whichdeserves credit for what.There is no question that the neighborhood hasimproved in recent years. A BID survey found thatbetween 1993 and 1994 there were declines of morethan 25 percent in reports of robbery, grandlarceny, and assault. Burglary reports decreased 15percent, grand larceny against the person 18percent, and murder 75 percent. While these majorfelonies are not the business of the communitycourt, its supporters argue that dealing moreeffectively with minor offenses that erode thequality of life alters an atmosphere that nurturesmore serious crime (see "Mediation").

Barbara Feldt, who heads a neighborhoodorganization called Residents Against StreetProstitution (RASP), says the various enforcementefforts have reduced the nightly population ofstreet prostitutes from about 250 to no more than10 in a 6-block stretch of the West Side. Policesay they have not detected any major displacementto other areas, though many of the prostitutes whoonce propositioned prospects on the street may nowwork for "escort" services where customers placeorders by telephone.


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Feldt recalls how for years her group had railedagainst the judges who simply waived prostitutesthrough the downtown court with sentences to timeserved. A RASP delegation once "went down to 100Centre Street and saw about 20 of `our girls' beingarraigned," she recounts. "They all beat us back tothe block."With the community court in place, she says, "theydo get some kind of punishment instead of timeserved.... There's a balance here, with thecommunity, the police, the D.A.'s office, and thejudge sitting up there. If they took the court awayfrom us now, it would all fall apart."The court appearance went well enough, but Megawstill is not free to relax. Carol now has to getherself, her daughter, and all that luggage down tothe Port Authority terminal, pick up her money fromTraveler's Aid, purchase tickets, and board a bus.

He assigns two of his more muscular caseworkers toaccompany her, partly to help tote the bags andpartly because he fears her pimp might show up andtry to abduct her back into the life. "Prostitutionis a rough business," Feinblatt observes as hewatches the crew assemble in the corridor. Carolmakes a last phone call to Willie Figueroa,thanking him for everything and bidding himgoodbye, before she hauls Tamika onto the elevatorloaded with all her stuff.Megaw's phone does not ring until 8:45. His menreport that they were unable to make the 6 o'clockbus and had to wait for the next one, which did notleave until 8:30. The choice of escorts turns outto have been prudent: As they waited for the bus,Carol had indeed spotted her pimp, who often spendshis evenings in the terminal. He had seen her, too,but after sizing up her companions, he decided tokeep his distance.----------------------------------------------------------------------The Power of Information

The managers who developed the Midtown CommunityCourt saw in it an opportunity to push thepotential of new technology. They wired thebuilding for a computer network and loaded it withsoftware specially developed for the court byprogrammers at the Vera Institute of Justice. Theresult, updated regularly as the judge, attorneys,and caseworkers consult with programmers to addressnew problems, has drawn interest from courtadministrators around the country.The computers keep track of the calendar and


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display on large monitors public data about casescoming before the judge. Before arraignment,defendants in custody meet with interviewers fromthe city's Criminal Justice Agency who quiz themabout substance abuse problems, housing, employmentprospects, and other matters. "It goes well beyondthe normal bail interview," Feinblatt says. Theinterviewers record the responses on laptopcomputers, then download the data to the court'smain network. Within minutes, the court's socialservice caseworkers can develop their assessmentsand recommendations.The judge on the bench and lawyers in the well canexamine a defendant's entire file at the click of amouse. Facing a defendant with a drug problem, forexample, Judge Kluger may call up a screen thatdisplays his troubled history: a number of previousarrests, followed by enrollment for drug treatment,2 months of favorable reports, then a month ofbacksliding and return to the street. In another

case, the screen display highlights the fact thatthe defendant has told prearraignment interviewersthat she is interested in treatment, a point herlawyer has neglected to mention. "It gives youbetter information," Judge Kluger agrees.Defense attorneys are far less enthusiastic. Theysay the computer system is redundant because muchof the data it offers continues to be backed upwith paper documents. But they acknowledge that theprearraignment interviewers ask more questions andget more information out of the offenders. That,complains defense attorney Michael Wittman, "can bemore damaging to the defendant."Feinblatt, a former defense attorney, understandsthe issue all too well. "By bringing in computers,"he says, "we've made it more a judge-driven court.The judge is the master of information, andinformation is what makes the court different."---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------MediationIn addition to the services it either imposes onsentenced offenders or makes available to them, the

court offers one to the whole community: mediationof neighborhood disputes. Cases might involve anoisy auto repair shop, a landlord's decision torent to an x-rated video dealer, or where to put adog run in a park. Critics argue that mediationexceeds the scope of a criminal court, butsupporters of the concept point out that it canwind up settling criminal as well as civil matters.One recent case concerned a hot-tempered man whofailed to scoop up after his dog near a communitygarden, then assaulted an elderly neighbor who


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complained. Instead of pursuing assault charges inthe criminal court, all parties agreed to refer thematter to a mediator. The man's sisters came withhim to the courthouse and explained that he hadchronic problems controlling his temper. Should hefail to scoop again, the sisters said, neighborsshould notify them and they would clean up afterhis dog. That solution proved satisfactory.Mediation is "one of the things people are mostaware of" because of the intense feelings raised byneighborhood disputes, observes David Rotman, aresearcher at the National Center for State Courtswho has run focus groups on the Midtown CommunityCourt. "It's something people really like."-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------About This StudyThis Program Focus was written by David C.Anderson, a former member of the New York Times

editorial board and the former editor of PoliceMagazine and Corrections Magazine. He is theauthor of Crimes of Justice: Improving the Police,the Courts, the Prisons and Crime and the Politicsof Hysteria: How the Willie Horton Story ChangedAmerican Justice.http://www.city-journal.org/article02.php?aid=1520Thomas ReppettoBringing Justice Closer to HomeAutumn 1992The New York Police Department is in the midst of a transition tocommunity policing, an approach that emphasizes the control of minorcrimes against public order. By targeting these offenses and becomingmore involved with the community, police officers combat theatmosphere of fear and lawlessness in which serious crimes flourish.But community policing faces a serious impediment in New York: Thecity's already overburdened criminal courts are not capable ofhandling the flood of low-level cases that are likely to result frommore-aggressive enforcement of laws against panhandling, disorderlyconduct, graffiti, and other quality-of-life offenses.A generation ago, a police officer who arrested a disorderly street

character could bring the case to a neighborhood magistrates court,where it would be disposed of in an expeditious manner. Today allcourts are centralized in each borough, and the workload is enormous.Many individual cases, particularly those involving low-level crime,can only be given short shrift. A police officer who makes an arrestcan expect to be tied up for many hours and will likely be frustratedat the end, when the case is quickly dismissed or, at most, a tokenfine is assessed."To a large extent, fear of crime in New York City can be traced tothe fact that, because the city's Criminal Court is unable toeffectively contend with its enormous caseload, lower-level crimes


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cannot be appropriately punished," noted Chief Judge Sol Wachtler ofthe New York State Court of Appeals in his 1990 State of the Judiciaryreport. "The addition of police officers to the streets, without alarge infusion of resources in the Criminal Court, will make thesituation worse. "Even with such an infusion, however, there would never be enoughjudges available to deal adequately with minor crimes. A centralized,bureaucratic court system, overburdened with serious violent crimes,will treat public-order offenses as trivial matters. Thus, the courtsmust be decentralized so that members of the community can moreclosely monitor the justice system and ensure that their concerns aretreated seriously. In order to accomplish this at minimal cost, theCitizens Crime Commission has proposed the establishment ofneighborhood branches of the lower Criminal Courts that would bepresided over by volunteer judges drawn from members of the bar. Sincethe volunteers would be unpaid, there would be no obstacle toassigning a sufficient number of them to deal with the new caseload ofpublic-order offenses. Neighborhood courts might also lighten theburden on the "downtown" courts, giving regular judges additional timeto handle more serious matters. Community courts could impose

alternative sentences, taking advantage of local facilities such asdrug-treatment centers and homeless shelters. In addition, arrestingofficers could more easily attend trials in the neighborhoods theypatrol, saving valuable police hours. Currently, the NYPD must payofficersusually at the overtime rate of about $30 per hourto travelbetween the precinct and the central courts.Community courts would also foster neighborhood involvement in thegreater justice system. Local residents could easily attend trials andobserve how quality-of-life offenses are handled. Legal scholarRaymond Moley observed that neighborhood courts "may become a vastlyimportant educational force in the community," providing "a lesson incommon sense, fair play, and respect for democratic institutions."Although he was writing about the old magistrates courts sixty yearsago, his insight remains fresh today.The proposal for community courts won the support of the chiefadministrator of the New York State court system, and the Office ofCourt Administration drafted a bill that would permit unpaid communitymagistrates to hear cases in neighborhood branches of the New YorkCity Criminal Courts. Under this proposal, the magistrates would beappointed by the Mayor and be required to have five years of legalexperience, including two years of criminal law practice. Theirjurisdiction would be limited to Class B misdemeanors and below,offenses that carry sentences of three months or less and do not

require jury trials. Early in 1991, Governor Cuomo budgeted $1.4million for an experimental community court.The first community court was proposed for the 72nd Precinct in SunsetPark, Brooklyn, which in April 1991 had been brought to full strengthas a model of community policing. This dovetailed nicely with theefforts of Brooklyn District Attorney Charles Hynes, who wasreorganizing some of his operations to make them moreneighborhood-oriented and planning to initiate community treatmentprograms for low-level offenders. As luck would have it, a beautifulold magistrates court sat nearly empty less than a mile from theprecinct station house. Unfortunately, in the struggles that developed


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over the state judiciary budget in 1991, funds for an experimentalcommunity court were eliminated. While exploratory efforts continue inBrooklyn, community courts are on hold for now.An experiment that involves some elements of community courts is,however, underway in the Times Square area. Last year, Times Squarebusiness leaders became interested in opening a court to help dealwith the disorder endemic to their community. The proposal involvedsetting up a local Criminal Court arraignment part with a regularjudge. Each day the court would handle some sixty defendants chargedwith crimes such as theft of service, prostitution, petty larceny,possession of stolen property, unlicensed peddling, and low-level drugoffenses. As in the Brooklyn proposal, facilities would be availablefor alternative sentencing. "This would be a problem-solver courtfocusing on immediacy rather than severity of sentence," says theplan's principal author, John Feinblatt of the Fund for the City ofNew York.Although the Manhattan District Attorney's Office opposed the plan onthe grounds that it would cost too much and duplicate existingservices, Mayor Dinkins and Chief Judge Wachtler announced in July

that the proposal would go ahead. A branch of the Criminal Court isscheduled to open early in 1993, next to a police station on West 54thStreet.Community courts are not without their detractors. Many lawyers, forexample, are cool to the idea of traveling to outlying courts toappear before volunteer magistrates they have never seen before. Moreimportant, local residents are often uneasy about opening a facilitythat will bring criminals, many of whom are drug abusers, into theneighborhood. Local opposition, for example, prevented the TimesSquare court from being opened at its originally proposed site: theempty Longacre Theatre on 48th Street.Such opposition can be overcome, however, if community courts serve asvisible exemplars of justice and if they significantly improve theenforcement of laws that protect the quality of life. Communitycourts, like community policing, can be an effective antidote to theapathy and alienation from government that have become all too common.NY TimesJuly 21, 1992Taking Justice to the Scene in MidtownBy MARVINE HOWENormally, when a criminal-justice institution is planned for a

neighborhood, the residents howl in protest. Not so with the MidtownCommunity Court.It is an experiment in local justice that will bring to West 54thStreet the arraignment of prostitutes, purse-snatchers and other pettycriminals. Perhaps because neighborhood residents have long been closeto the seedy side of Times Square, most are not intimidated by theidea and, in fact, generally seem to welcome it."We have criminals committing crimes in the neighborhood every day,being sent to Criminal Court downtown for arraignment, then let looseand coming back to commit more crime," said Douglas Mendini, a


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playwright and secretary of the 53d-54th Street Block Association. "Ifthey're sentenced and punished here, maybe they'll stop coming back."Quality of LifeFor the last nine months, the planners have reached out to communityleaders, block associations and social-service agencies with themessage that "community justice, like community policing, will improvethe quality of life of the neighborhood," said John Feinblatt,coordinator of the project.Under the three-year experiment, the community court will be opened inwhat was once the 11th Judicial District Court, at 314 West 54thStreet, next to the Midtown North police station. Petty criminalsarrested in midtown will be arraigned where they committed theircrimes, sentenced to do community service in the area and given accessto social services in the courthouse.At a public hearing of Community Board 4 last month, there was noopposition to the plan for reviving the landmark courthouse. Localblock association meetings also favored the community court proposal,although some individuals have expressed concern about keeping

criminals in the neighborhood for sentencing and community service.Barbara Feldt, chairman of Residents Against Street Prostitution,said, "At least the petty crimials will be doing somethingconstructive, like cleaning up parks or getting rid of graffiti, so itwill be a lot nicer to live here."Currently, she said, judges could not concentrate on minor crimes. Forexample, most prostitutes who are arrested are kept in holding cellsfor about 16 hours, then released, usually going back to work. At thecommunity court, which will only hear misdemeanor cases, prostitutesand other petty criminals will get more personal attention and accessto AIDS intrervention, drug treatment and housing.A strong believer in the community court, Alice Olson, who ischairwoman of Community Board 4 and director of continuing educationat Sarah Lawrence College, said, "As a former trial lawyer, I'm verysupportive of the project because I believe the solution toentry-level crime is to combine some discipline with social service."In the old courthouse, James Jennings, artistic director and founderof the American Theater of Actors, said he hoped the new court would"bring more security and more theatergoers to the neighborhood." Hissaid his nonprofit group, which now operates four Off Off Broadwaytheaters on the second, third and fourth floors of the building, would

remain.But on the courthouse's ground floor. Benedicte De Vleeschauwer, ownerand creator of the New York Prop Gallery and Prop Exchange, was angry.Her lease was up in mid-April and she has been told she must get outof the building."I spent six months and $100,000 of my own savings to renovate theplace last year and hoped to make the first props museum in thiscountry," Ms. Vleeschauwer said bitterly. She said she has nowhere togo with 5,000 square feet of props, including palm trees, Greek gods,several versions of the Eiffel Tower.


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Across the street from the courthouse, views were mixed. MarinaTroshina, who came here three years ago from Moscow and owns the UncleVanya cafe, was concerned that the courthouse would not be so good forbusiness. "My coffee is the best on the block, but people don't liketo look out the window and see prostitutes, pimps and pickpockets,"she said.At the Rex Travel Agency next door, Mary Lymberopolous said that sheand her colleagues were very happy to have the police station in theneighborhood and were glad the court would reopen. "Maybe justice willmove faster," she said.

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