A Brooklyn mother of four named Vivian, was watching TV and eating popcorn with two of her sons in the living room of her Monroe Street walk-up apartment. It was a hot summer evening in July 1977, and they had a fan in the window to cope with the heat. Suddenly, the lights went out. Vivian asked her only daughter in the bathroom, "Felicia (12), are you using the hair dryer? Hon." Felicia replies, "I haven't plugged it in yet, mom, what happened to the lights." The two boys, Dex (14) and Tee (8) look out the window letting their mom know, "the whole block has no lights." She says, "Oh God, not a blackout!" She worries about her eldest son, Junior, who is 17 years old and works at a fast-food restaurant. She hopes he is safe and well.
Junior and his three coworkers were working the night shift at the B&F fast-food restaurant with their supervisor, Mr. Fields, when the lights suddenly went out. Mr. Fields quickly instructed his crew to turn off the grills and fryers, grab their belongings and get ready to leave. He secured the money in the fireproof safe and made sure the gas was fully shut off. All the customers had left and a couple of uniformed police officers were patrolling the area to provide safety. Mr. Fields and his crew were about to close down and leave, but he realized that one of his crew members, Albert, was missing. A female cashier tells him, "He's probably in the bathroom as usual taking a shit, Mister Fields." Mr. Fields yells, "For crying out loud, y'all (the 3 crew members) get in the car, I'll go inside and get Albert to move his fat ass off that toilet or we'll leave him here alone in the dark restaurant." Everyone is laughing, Mr. Fields stood outside the men's restroom, knocking on the door and shouting, "Albert, let's wrap it up in there, buddy. Finish your business and come out, so we can all leave, son." Albert, a 16-year-old employee, came out of the restroom and said, "I was scared, Mr. Fields. The lights went out when I was on the toilet, sir." Mr. Fields said, "Don't worry about it; let's just lock up, get in my car and leave." They managed to leave the restaurant after all the gates were down, avoiding the chaos and seeing the havoc around them. Everyone got home safely.
Power returned to the city the next morning, but some cars and buildings had been vandalized and set on fire. The B&F fast-food restaurant had a damaged front gate and broken windows, but the police had prevented anyone from entering. Vivian and her kids were safe.
The following weekend on a Saturday, some businesses are still ruined and went out of business. Other businesses are recovering; The city is in chaos: Yet, sports fans are still rooting for the Yankees to reach and win the World Series. During the day, people seek solace at the beaches, the parks or relaxing in the sun. At night, people enjoy the nightlife at home, indoors or outdoors; or at discos and other night venues. The Big Apple is still struggling with economic problems, recovery efforts and a murderous rampage by some derange maniac.
That same Saturday morning on Monroe Street in Bedford-Stuyvesant, where Vivian and family resides, a local neighborhood hustler, Big Dave who also lives on the block, runs a small hole in the wall hangout out of the first floor inside his brownstone, where grown folks come to shoot pool, play cars, drink or chill listening to music; announce as his method of lifting spirits, "Let's have a block party!" Dave organized an impromptu block party without permission, and almost everyone on the block joined in. They parked their cars across the entrance and exit of the block, blocking any traffic. Some residents set up grills and tables in front of their homes, while kids rode bikes and skateboards up and down the street. Big Dave's nephew and his live band entertained the crowd with songs by popular soul, funk and disco artists of the time, and people danced in the street. Later, a young deejay entertained folks with his powerful stereo system of two turntables, a mixer, a mic and huge homemade power speakers, that almost the whole neighborhood could hear him. He also got people dancing to his music. He was at the other end of the block from the band, so people could choose what they wanted to listen to. The block party also attracted some local politicians who were campaigning for election or re-election. They did not realize that the party was unauthorized. The members of the block association committee had confronted Big Dave earlier and expressed their disapproval, but almost everyone else was having a good time. The president of the block association, Mrs. Gretchen Taylor tells him, "Dave, we thought we talked out this?" Big Dave replies, "Gretchen, Pete, Adam; please, relax. We deserved this, after that impromptu blackout we had. Please! Everyone except y'all enjoying themselves!" Gretchen tells him, "Why must we be the bad people, Dave? You know we need a permit, to close up the block and have a block party, we the block association committee are responsible, not you!" Dave tells him, "Listen, I got everything under control. Trust me." The block association committee decides to let Dave, alone, bear the responsibility of having a block party without a permit.
The party on the closed block goes on past 9 pm, with the young deejay blasting music so loud that it reaches five blocks away. People are still dancing in the street, even though the band has finished playing. Lt. Henry, the night commander of the local precinct, approaches the deejay and asks, "Can I say something on the mic?" The deejay nods and says, "Sure." The Lt. says, "Good evening, everybody, this is Lieutenant Henry, night commander at your local precinct, are y'all having fun and like to party (everyone saying yeah)! Good, so do I and I like to party also and I bring some guests of mine along to the party, they are some tow truck operators, who will in approximately fifteen minutes will begin moving any vehicles blocking the entrance of this street and exiting also. (Vehicle owners are rushing to move their cars.) Fifteen minutes, people. Carry on!" To the deejay, "Oh, you have thirty minutes to shut it down or you and whoever owns the house will be given a noise citation. " The owner, also concerned about his electric bill, orders his son, the deejay to turn it off. The deejay plays the final record after announcing, "This is it everyone. I have to shut it down after this jam. Lt. Henry tells him, "Y'all have a good night." He walks away noticing the most of the car owners have already moved their vehicles.
Darryl, a teenager with a driver's license, wants to go joyriding in his father's car. He persuades his mother to let him move the car, claiming that his father is too drunk to do it himself, the man can't barely stand up. She hands him the keys. Darryl hurries to the front of the block, where his father's car is located, which is about to be towed away. He gets in the car with his friends Junior and Bob, and his uncle Dre, who is already in the backseat with Junior. Darryl asks him, "Uncle Dre? What are you doing here?" Dre replies, "For you to take me to my woman's place, for some hump-hump! I know what you and your buddies are up to, you can do whatever you want with your dad's car, my brother's car, as long as you drop me off at my lady's house. But first, stop by the liquor store, what do you guys' drink?" Instead of debating, Darryl asks his uncle, "Where's she lives?" Dre tells him, "She lives in Brownsville on the corner of Powell and Blake Avenue." Bob says, "Powell and Blake Avenue?" Dre says, "That's right and don't worry, y'all will be compensated with an alcoholic beverage of your choice." Darryl tells him, "That's not the reason Uncle Dre. The reason is Brownsville is not a very safe and nice neighborhood, especially the projects, Uncle Dre." Dre tells him, "Oh, stop worrying Neph, all you have to do is drop me off and be on your way, not hang around." Darryl decides to dropped his Uncle Dre to his lady apartment so he can get laid, first they made a stop to the nearest liquor store, then proceed to drop Uncle Dre to his lady's house.
Darryl and his friends return to their Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood on Monroe Street without any trouble.
THE END
