Features
New Haven is a pockmarked city, riddled with reminders of an era when City Hall thought the only way to save it from economic peril was to tear out row houses and typewriter shops and replace them with beasts of concrete and steel. One of those beasts, the Knights of Columbus tower, looms over one … Continue reading The City Builder
New Haven is a pockmarked city, riddled with reminders of an era when City Hall thought the only way to save it from economic peril was to tear out row houses and typewriter shops and replace them with beasts of concrete and steel. One of those beasts, the Knights of Columbus tower, looms over one such wound: an asphalt wasteland of parking lots, four-lane streets, and fenced-in parks left behind by twenty years of urban renewal. Richard Munday says it’s not all bad. He likes. . . Read moreMarco Antonio Reyes Alvarez’s bags were almost packed. He had his ticket for a flight the next morning, August 8, to Ecuador, the country he left twenty years ago for the United States. At his home in Meriden—a small city midway between Hartford and New Haven—Fanny Torres Reyes, his wife of twenty-four years, their three … Continue reading A Fragile Sanctuary
Marco Antonio Reyes Alvarez’s bags were almost packed. He had his ticket for a flight the next morning, August 8, to Ecuador, the country he left twenty years ago for the United States. At his home in Meriden—a small city midway between Hartford and New Haven—Fanny Torres Reyes, his wife of twenty-four years, their three children, and thirty relatives had gathered for his final hours in the country. His deportation loomed on the other side of the night. “We were saying goodbye, crying, making his. . . Read more“If this gets any worse, I’ll think I can fly,” Wes thought, as he looked down onto College Street from the top of the Silliman tower. He had taken LSD and cocaine an hour or two earlier. Afraid of what might come next, he backed away from the window. Within moments, he threw up. He … Continue reading By No Means Immune
“If this gets any worse, I’ll think I can fly,” Wes thought, as he looked down onto College Street from the top of the Silliman tower. He had taken LSD and cocaine an hour or two earlier. Afraid of what might come next, he backed away from the window. Within moments, he threw up. He closed his eyes. A feeling of doom swept over him. He was certain that he had died and was experiencing a post-death state. He dialed home. “Mom, I think I’m. . . Read moreDawn Slade knows everyone and everything on Dixwell Avenue. Walking up the street—which runs north from downtown New Haven and Yale University toward Hamden—one morning this past spring, she nodded at Lake Place, where many residents are Yale undergraduates. “Look at them, on Lake and Broadway,” she said. “You started to see them inching up. … Continue reading The Perimeter
Dawn Slade knows everyone and everything on Dixwell Avenue. Walking up the street—which runs north from downtown New Haven and Yale University toward Hamden—one morning this past spring, she nodded at Lake Place, where many residents are Yale undergraduates. “Look at them, on Lake and Broadway,” she said. “You started to see them inching up. Inching, inching, inching.” Born in 1960, Slade grew up in Dixwell and now lives in Beaver Hills, a nearby neighborhood. She is the cofounder and executive director of Nuts About. . . Read more