I’m trying to think of something more antithetical to the spirit of the late 70s and early 80s in New York than Zoe Schneider’s Magic Grand club. That time wasn’t just about native New Yorkers, it was about people from all over the world—actors, poets, rock musicians, painters, novelists, etc--who came to New York in order to realize themselves creatively. I guess your club wouldn’t include Jim Jarmusch (from Akron), Madonna (from Detroit), Anne Magnuson (Charleston), John Lurie (Minneapolis) and thousands of other people who made the scene what it was in those days. We all came here because we could. We traded our safety for cheap rent (I don’t understand what cheap rent meant to the 8-year-olds in your story). Despite Bloomberg and the Hedge Fund traders, New York today is still a magnet for a lot of young people—they’re just sharing a $3000 East Village studio with a bunch of friends. It’s way harder for them than it was for us, and hats off to them.

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