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Albert Seedman, Chief of Detectives in New York for Short, Tumultuous Time, Dies at 94
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Matthew Kruk
May 18, 2013, 2:12:39 AM5/18/13
to
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/05/18/nyregion/albert-seedman-former-chief-of-detectives-in-new-york-dies-at-94.html?ref=obituaries&_r=0
The New York Times
May 17, 2013
Albert Seedman, Chief of Detectives in New York for Short, Tumultuous Time, Dies
at 94
By RICHARD GOLDSTEIN
Albert Seedman, the New York Police Department's chief of detectives in the
early 1970s who became something of a celebrity as the savvy, cigar-chomping
personification of the tough-guy cop while modernizing a tradition-bound force,
died on Friday in Delray Beach, Fla. He was 94.
The cause was congestive heart failure, his granddaughter Alison Stiegler said.
He lived in Boynton Beach, Fla.
Mr. Seedman oversaw New York City's 3,000 or so detectives for only 13 months,
but he seemed to be everywhere during a tumultuous time.
Three pairs of police officers were shot - four of the officers were killed and
two grievously wounded - in ambushes by the Black Liberation Army. The
underworld boss Joseph A. Colombo Sr. was shot in the head by a gunman who was
himself shot to death seconds later at Mr. Colombo's Italian-American Day rally
in Columbus Circle. The mob leader Joey Gallo was fatally shot at a Little Italy
restaurant. Gunmen posing as guests looted 47 safe deposit boxes at the Hotel
Pierre.
The Police Department meanwhile faced a major corruption investigation in which
Mr. Seedman was briefly caught up before being exonerated.
As chief of detectives from March 1971 to April 1972, he was often the
department's face, pleased to supply a quotation for the press though he might
not be telling all.
Stocky and broad-shouldered, invariably chewing on a cigar, he wore
white-on-white patterned shirts with "Al" embroidered on the sleeves, sported
bejeweled rings on both hands and carried a pearl-handled revolver.
He may have evoked the style of an old-school detective, but he represented the
changing ways of law enforcement. He graduated from the City College business
school (now Baruch College) in 1941, received graduate degrees in public
administration and oversaw what Patrick V. Murphy, the police commissioner who
made him chief of detectives, called "the first major change in the force in
half a century."
Mr. Seedman was the prime architect of a major restructuring of the way
detectives and patrol officers did their jobs. Instead of catching whatever case
came their way at a station house, detectives were assigned to a specialty -
perhaps homicides or robberies - while officers on patrol were permitted to
investigate some crimes for the first time.
His ascendancy marked a change as well in the department's aura.
"The Jewish cop was an alien in an Irish universe," the crime novelist Jerome
Charyn wrote in The New York Times in 2004. "Enter Albert Seedman, the first,
last and only Jewish chief of detectives. It's the 1970s and Chief Seedman is
all over the place, tough, flamboyant and foul-mouthed, chomping on a cigar,
appearing at the scene of important crimes. He seemed more Irish than the Irish,
as if he had co-opted their territory, their language, their domain."
Albert A. Seedman (the middle initial was solely that) was born on Aug. 19,
1918, in the Bronx, the son of a taxi driver. He liked to say that he first
thought of becoming a police officer as a stairwell monitor in grade school.
He joined the department in 1942, returned to it after Army service in World War
II.
By 1962 he was a captain, but his career almost fell apart over the "perp walk,"
in which police officers paraded suspects for the benefit of news photographers.
Mr. Seedman was taking Anthony Dellernia, a suspect in the fatal shooting of two
detectives during a Brooklyn tobacco shop robbery, out of a station house when
he grabbed Mr. Dellernia under the chin and squeezed his cheek so photographers
could see his face. The American Civil Liberties Union demanded that Mr. Seedman
be disciplined for using inappropriate force in the interests of publicity.
Commissioner Michael J. Murphy publicly expressed regret about the incident, and
Mr. Seedman's expected promotion to deputy inspector was postponed. Mr.
Dellernia was acquitted; two others were convicted.
Mr. Seedman handled high-profile cases even before becoming the detectives
chief.
He oversaw the investigation that solved the 1964 Kitty Genovese murder, which
had shocked the city when it was reported in the press that 38 neighbors had
heard Ms. Genovese's late-night cries on a Queens street without summoning help.
When he was chief of detectives for the southern half of Brooklyn in 1967, a
17-year-old girl was killed by a bullet fired through an open window of her car
as she drove on the Belt Parkway near the ocean.
Mr. Seedman oversaw an investigation in which 2,400 people were interviewed.
Detectives located a gas station owner who had fired a rifle from his fishing
boat while taking target practice at a floating beer can. One bullet had
evidently ricocheted off the water and gone through the car window. A grand jury
ruled the shooting a bizarre accident.
In October 1971, while chief of detectives, Mr. Seedman found his integrity in
question. A few days before the Knapp Commission, appointed by Mayor John V.
Lindsay, opened hearings into police corruption, he was transferred out of his
post when it was disclosed that he had accepted a free meal from the management
of the New York Hilton for himself, his wife and two guests in March 1970. But
Commissioner Patrick Murphy reinstated him a few days later.
Mr. Seedman retired in April 1972 to become chief of security for the Alexander's
department store chain.
His resignation came two weeks after Police Officer Philip Cardillo was shot
with his own gun during a struggle inside a Nation of Islam mosque in Harlem,
having responded to a 911 phone call - later determined to be a ruse - stating
that a policeman was in trouble there. Officer Cardillo died of his wounds.
The police had left the mosque abruptly while suspects were still being held
there, and no one was ever convicted in the killing.
An internal department report prepared in 1973, but not made public until 1983,
found that it was Mr. Seedman who made the decision to allow 16 people being
lined up for questioning inside the mosque to go free, under a promise from
mosque officials that they would later be made available to the police. They
never were. The report attributed the decision to break off the on-site
investigation in part to the threat of a riot outside the mosque.
But in an introduction to a 2011 e-book edition of his memoir, "Chief," Mr.
Seedman said he had been ordered to remove the police from the mosque by Chief
Inspector Michael Codd because of fears of racial violence. He said it was his
anger over that order that compelled him to retire. Mr. Codd later became the
police commissioner. He died in 1985.
A 1980 report by a state grand jury cited three police officials as having been
derelict in curtailing the investigation, but their names were not made public.
Besides his granddaughter Ms. Stiegler, Mr. Seedman's survivors include his wife
of 43 years, the former Henny Joseph; a daughter, Marilyn Stiegler; two sons,
Barry and David; five other grandchildren; and five great-grandchildren.
Mr. Seedman spent his later years in the placid condominium belt of South
Florida, but he retained touches of rough-and-tumble New York. He carried a
replica of his chief of detectives gold badge. And Jack Kitaeff, author of the
2006 book "Jews in Blue," said Mr. Seedman told him that in his late 80s he
still carried a revolver "in case there is trouble."
Al Baker and Jack Kadden contributed reporting.
The New York Times
May 17, 2013
Albert Seedman, Chief of Detectives in New York for Short, Tumultuous Time, Dies
at 94
By RICHARD GOLDSTEIN
Albert Seedman, the New York Police Department's chief of detectives in the
early 1970s who became something of a celebrity as the savvy, cigar-chomping
personification of the tough-guy cop while modernizing a tradition-bound force,
died on Friday in Delray Beach, Fla. He was 94.
The cause was congestive heart failure, his granddaughter Alison Stiegler said.
He lived in Boynton Beach, Fla.
Mr. Seedman oversaw New York City's 3,000 or so detectives for only 13 months,
but he seemed to be everywhere during a tumultuous time.
Three pairs of police officers were shot - four of the officers were killed and
two grievously wounded - in ambushes by the Black Liberation Army. The
underworld boss Joseph A. Colombo Sr. was shot in the head by a gunman who was
himself shot to death seconds later at Mr. Colombo's Italian-American Day rally
in Columbus Circle. The mob leader Joey Gallo was fatally shot at a Little Italy
restaurant. Gunmen posing as guests looted 47 safe deposit boxes at the Hotel
Pierre.
The Police Department meanwhile faced a major corruption investigation in which
Mr. Seedman was briefly caught up before being exonerated.
As chief of detectives from March 1971 to April 1972, he was often the
department's face, pleased to supply a quotation for the press though he might
not be telling all.
Stocky and broad-shouldered, invariably chewing on a cigar, he wore
white-on-white patterned shirts with "Al" embroidered on the sleeves, sported
bejeweled rings on both hands and carried a pearl-handled revolver.
He may have evoked the style of an old-school detective, but he represented the
changing ways of law enforcement. He graduated from the City College business
school (now Baruch College) in 1941, received graduate degrees in public
administration and oversaw what Patrick V. Murphy, the police commissioner who
made him chief of detectives, called "the first major change in the force in
half a century."
Mr. Seedman was the prime architect of a major restructuring of the way
detectives and patrol officers did their jobs. Instead of catching whatever case
came their way at a station house, detectives were assigned to a specialty -
perhaps homicides or robberies - while officers on patrol were permitted to
investigate some crimes for the first time.
His ascendancy marked a change as well in the department's aura.
"The Jewish cop was an alien in an Irish universe," the crime novelist Jerome
Charyn wrote in The New York Times in 2004. "Enter Albert Seedman, the first,
last and only Jewish chief of detectives. It's the 1970s and Chief Seedman is
all over the place, tough, flamboyant and foul-mouthed, chomping on a cigar,
appearing at the scene of important crimes. He seemed more Irish than the Irish,
as if he had co-opted their territory, their language, their domain."
Albert A. Seedman (the middle initial was solely that) was born on Aug. 19,
1918, in the Bronx, the son of a taxi driver. He liked to say that he first
thought of becoming a police officer as a stairwell monitor in grade school.
He joined the department in 1942, returned to it after Army service in World War
II.
By 1962 he was a captain, but his career almost fell apart over the "perp walk,"
in which police officers paraded suspects for the benefit of news photographers.
Mr. Seedman was taking Anthony Dellernia, a suspect in the fatal shooting of two
detectives during a Brooklyn tobacco shop robbery, out of a station house when
he grabbed Mr. Dellernia under the chin and squeezed his cheek so photographers
could see his face. The American Civil Liberties Union demanded that Mr. Seedman
be disciplined for using inappropriate force in the interests of publicity.
Commissioner Michael J. Murphy publicly expressed regret about the incident, and
Mr. Seedman's expected promotion to deputy inspector was postponed. Mr.
Dellernia was acquitted; two others were convicted.
Mr. Seedman handled high-profile cases even before becoming the detectives
chief.
He oversaw the investigation that solved the 1964 Kitty Genovese murder, which
had shocked the city when it was reported in the press that 38 neighbors had
heard Ms. Genovese's late-night cries on a Queens street without summoning help.
When he was chief of detectives for the southern half of Brooklyn in 1967, a
17-year-old girl was killed by a bullet fired through an open window of her car
as she drove on the Belt Parkway near the ocean.
Mr. Seedman oversaw an investigation in which 2,400 people were interviewed.
Detectives located a gas station owner who had fired a rifle from his fishing
boat while taking target practice at a floating beer can. One bullet had
evidently ricocheted off the water and gone through the car window. A grand jury
ruled the shooting a bizarre accident.
In October 1971, while chief of detectives, Mr. Seedman found his integrity in
question. A few days before the Knapp Commission, appointed by Mayor John V.
Lindsay, opened hearings into police corruption, he was transferred out of his
post when it was disclosed that he had accepted a free meal from the management
of the New York Hilton for himself, his wife and two guests in March 1970. But
Commissioner Patrick Murphy reinstated him a few days later.
Mr. Seedman retired in April 1972 to become chief of security for the Alexander's
department store chain.
His resignation came two weeks after Police Officer Philip Cardillo was shot
with his own gun during a struggle inside a Nation of Islam mosque in Harlem,
having responded to a 911 phone call - later determined to be a ruse - stating
that a policeman was in trouble there. Officer Cardillo died of his wounds.
The police had left the mosque abruptly while suspects were still being held
there, and no one was ever convicted in the killing.
An internal department report prepared in 1973, but not made public until 1983,
found that it was Mr. Seedman who made the decision to allow 16 people being
lined up for questioning inside the mosque to go free, under a promise from
mosque officials that they would later be made available to the police. They
never were. The report attributed the decision to break off the on-site
investigation in part to the threat of a riot outside the mosque.
But in an introduction to a 2011 e-book edition of his memoir, "Chief," Mr.
Seedman said he had been ordered to remove the police from the mosque by Chief
Inspector Michael Codd because of fears of racial violence. He said it was his
anger over that order that compelled him to retire. Mr. Codd later became the
police commissioner. He died in 1985.
A 1980 report by a state grand jury cited three police officials as having been
derelict in curtailing the investigation, but their names were not made public.
Besides his granddaughter Ms. Stiegler, Mr. Seedman's survivors include his wife
of 43 years, the former Henny Joseph; a daughter, Marilyn Stiegler; two sons,
Barry and David; five other grandchildren; and five great-grandchildren.
Mr. Seedman spent his later years in the placid condominium belt of South
Florida, but he retained touches of rough-and-tumble New York. He carried a
replica of his chief of detectives gold badge. And Jack Kitaeff, author of the
2006 book "Jews in Blue," said Mr. Seedman told him that in his late 80s he
still carried a revolver "in case there is trouble."
Al Baker and Jack Kadden contributed reporting.
Brad Ferguson
May 18, 2013, 12:28:35 PM5/18/13
to
In article <PYElt.96203$zH4....@en-nntp-14.dc1.easynews.com>, Matthew
The nearly spent bullet traveled about 1500 yards and hit the victim in
the ear, killing her instantly. If her window had been up, it would
likely have saved her. A fraction of a second either way, and the
bullet would have missed her entirely. They originally wanted to
charge the shooter with involuntary manslaughter, but this was reduced
to discharging a firearm within the city limits.
Kruk <nob...@home.com> wrote:
> When he was chief of detectives for the southern half of Brooklyn in
> 1967, a 17-year-old girl was killed by a bullet fired through an open
> window of her car as she drove on the Belt Parkway near the ocean.
>
> Mr. Seedman oversaw an investigation in which 2,400 people were
> interviewed. Detectives located a gas station owner who had fired a
> rifle from his fishing boat while taking target practice at a
> floating beer can. One bullet had evidently ricocheted off the water
> and gone through the car window. A grand jury ruled the shooting a
> bizarre accident.
Can't believe it was that long ago. It was indeed a bizarre accident.
> When he was chief of detectives for the southern half of Brooklyn in
> 1967, a 17-year-old girl was killed by a bullet fired through an open
> window of her car as she drove on the Belt Parkway near the ocean.
>
> Mr. Seedman oversaw an investigation in which 2,400 people were
> interviewed. Detectives located a gas station owner who had fired a
> rifle from his fishing boat while taking target practice at a
> floating beer can. One bullet had evidently ricocheted off the water
> and gone through the car window. A grand jury ruled the shooting a
> bizarre accident.
The nearly spent bullet traveled about 1500 yards and hit the victim in
the ear, killing her instantly. If her window had been up, it would
likely have saved her. A fraction of a second either way, and the
bullet would have missed her entirely. They originally wanted to
charge the shooter with involuntary manslaughter, but this was reduced
to discharging a firearm within the city limits.
Hyfler/Rosner
May 18, 2013, 1:10:16 PM5/18/13
to
see what memories Brad has of him.
danny burstein
May 18, 2013, 1:42:25 PM5/18/13
to
In <kn8clo$30k$1...@reader1.panix.com> Hyfler/Rosner <rel...@rcn.com> writes:
>Saw the obit in the paper today. Immediately said to RH, can't wait to
>see what memories Brad has of him.
I, of course, remembered his comments about Kitty Genoese,
>Saw the obit in the paper today. Immediately said to RH, can't wait to
>see what memories Brad has of him.
which to my surprise had been completly ignored by the media
when the crime occured.
- In his book, "Chief!" (with the exclamation point),
he pointed out that Kitty had been one of those "L" word
types (and I don't mean librrrrrls), and that one key part
of the investigation was focused on a lovers' spat.
It was only a decade or so ago that her affectional
preferences came out again in some retrospective
or another.
Oh, speaking of Speedman and the Harlem Mosque:
- Brad, do you have a copy of "Murder at the Harlem Mosque"?
If not, let me know and we'll see what we can do...
--
_____________________________________________________
Knowledge may be power, but communications is the key
dan...@panix.com
[to foil spammers, my address has been double rot-13 encoded]
A Friend
May 18, 2013, 6:56:26 PM5/18/13
to
In article <kn8ei1$ihk$1...@reader1.panix.com>, danny burstein
<dan...@panix.com> wrote:
> I, of course, remembered [Seedman's] comments about Kitty Genoese,
It became a nation's shame: Kitty Genovese was viciously slain, and
though many heard or saw, no one helped. Her gay lover recalls their
life, her grief.
March 12, 2004|By Jeff Pearlman, Tribune Newspapers. Newsday.
NEW YORK ã At the time, they were "friends"--in quotes. It's how you
would explain two women living together back in 1964, when blacks were
still trying to establish civil rights and the idea of gay marriage was
as comprehensible as a man landing on the moon.
Sometimes, if they accidentally let their guard down in public, Mary Ann
Zielonko and Kitty Genovese would exchange a loving glance, maybe even
grasp hands for a second or two. Then, quickly, they would stop.
Now, looking back at two young lovers through senior citizen eyes,
Zielonko measures her adoration for Genovese in numerous ways. Love was
their regular Monday night sojourns to Grede's, a club where they would
drink beer and listen to folk music. It was Wednesday evening meals at
Hofbrau, the German restaurant down the block. It was the late-night
chats and the intimate kisses and the idea that here is a person you can
spend your life with.
In the end, love was identifying a body.
Forty years later, Zielonko is still haunted by the vision of Catherine
"Kitty" Genovese, her partner in life, dead on a table in Queens General
Hospital.
"It is something," she says softly, "that stays with me."
To millions of Americans, the name Kitty Genovese represents anything
but love. Her death was a story of apathy and selfishness, of what
results when people ignore the terrified shrieks of a woman being
murdered.
In the early morning of March 13, 1964, Genovese, a 28-year-old bar
manager getting off work, was walking toward her apartment in the quiet
Kew Gardens section of Queens. She spotted a man on the opposite side of
a parking lot and began to walk swiftly toward her home. From behind, he
attacked, stabbing Genovese repeatedly until she was dead. The man,
29-year-old Winston Moseley, also raped Genovese. No one came to her
aid.
Alone, the crime was yet another scary moment in scary New York City.
But two weeks after the slaying, The New York Times reported that while
38 neighbors had either heard or witnessed the attack, not one had acted
to help.
The case became infamous, and four decades after her death, Kitty
Genovese is remembered not so much as a human being but as a cultural
catch phrase for inexcusable indifference. Yet to Zielonko, Genovese is
alive. She is still standing there, in the Manhattan bar where the two
first met on an early spring day in 1963, running a hand through her
short brown hair while taking a drag from the end of a Camel cigarette.
Genovese was a talkative woman with big brown eyes, an infectious giggle
and a tiny gap at the tip of her two front teeth, and the 25-year-old
Zielonko was smitten. Within a week, Zielonko found a note taped to the
front door of her Upper West Side apartment:
"WILL CALL YOU AT THE STREET CORNER PHONE BOOTH AT 7. --KITTY G."
That night, they agreed to meet at Seven Steps, a gay bar on Houston
Street. Zielonko says Genovese told her she was once married to a man,
but the marriage was annulled once she came to grips with her sexuality.
Zielonko was Genovese's second relationship with a woman.
"We just hit it off," Zielonko recalled. "We meshed. I'm very quiet, and
she talked a lot. We both had struggles with our sexuality, as did many
people back then. We had a quick bond."
It was Zielonko's first serious relationship. For two weeks, they lived
in a motel room while seeking a permanent address. Then they lucked upon
82-70 Austin St., a one-bedroom apartment above a Kew Gardens pub, Old
Bailey's Bar.
For a year--"one of the happiest years of my life," Zielonko said--the
two lived together. Genovese managed Ev's 11th Hour, a sports bar, while
Zielonko tended bar at Club Chris.
"We would usually both work days," Zielonko said. "So we would spend our
nights together."
Now 65 and retired from her job building submarines for Electric Boat in
Groton, Conn., Zielonko confessed that her memory flickers from time to
time. The once-vivid images of Kitty have yellowed like a stack of old
newspapers. But she giggled like a schoolgirl remembering Andrew, the
miniature poodle Genovese gave her. Her mind flashed back to visits with
Genovese's since-deceased parents in New Canaan, Conn. Officially, in
the home of Vincent and Rachel Genovese, two old-school Catholics, Mary
Ann was Kitty's "friend."
"But I think her mother knew," Zielonko said. "She was always very nice
to me."
On the night of March 12, 1964, Zielonko went with a friend to a bowling
alley. She got home around 11 p.m., then fell asleep. A knock on the
door woke her the next morning. It was two police officers, asking
Zielonko to accompany them to the hospital.
"I was in shock," she says, softly. "Just ... shock."
A few days later, Zielonko attended Genovese's funeral in New Canaan,
where, she said, the family refused to acknowledge her. "I think it was
because of our lifestyle."
For the next six months, Zielonko said, she locked herself in the
apartment, alternating between crying and drinking.
"I kept to myself and grieved," she said. "Finally, I knew I had to get
on with my life."
That October, she moved to Brooklyn. A year later, Zielonko resumed
dating. She took a job as a teletype operator and at nights attended
Brooklyn College. She has a bachelor's degree in social work and a
master's in statistical analysis. Retired since 1997, she lives in West
Rutland, Vt., with her partner of 3 1/2 years.
Zielonko said that over the years she has tried to reach out to the
Genovese family, but with little success. Genovese's siblings declined
to talk to a reporter.
With the passing of time, Zielonko was able to leave most of the pain
behind. But come March 13, Kitty Genovese's name is inevitably evoked.
Zielonko's thoughts are always the same: What would 68-year-old Kitty
Genovese look like? Where would she live? Would they still be together?
Would they at least be friends?
"I think Kitty would probably own a bar," Zielonko said. "And I think
she would be happy." A pause. "We would both be."
<http://articles.chicagotribune.com/2004-03-12/news/0403120260_1_winston-
moseley-catherine-kitty-genovese-gay-bar>
<http://goo.gl/OuwrQ>
Reasonably current pic of Mary Ann:
<http://soundportraits.org/images/remembering_kitty_genovese-mary_ann.jp
g>
<http://goo.gl/znkfo>
<dan...@panix.com> wrote:
> I, of course, remembered [Seedman's] comments about Kitty Genoese,
> which to my surprise had been completly ignored by the media when the
> crime occured.
>
> - In his book, "Chief!" (with the exclamation point), he pointed out
> that Kitty had been one of those "L" word types (and I don't mean
> librrrrrls), and that one key part of the investigation was focused
> on a lovers' spat.
Infamous '64 murder lives in heart of woman's `friend'
> crime occured.
>
> - In his book, "Chief!" (with the exclamation point), he pointed out
> that Kitty had been one of those "L" word types (and I don't mean
> librrrrrls), and that one key part of the investigation was focused
> on a lovers' spat.
It became a nation's shame: Kitty Genovese was viciously slain, and
though many heard or saw, no one helped. Her gay lover recalls their
life, her grief.
March 12, 2004|By Jeff Pearlman, Tribune Newspapers. Newsday.
NEW YORK ã At the time, they were "friends"--in quotes. It's how you
would explain two women living together back in 1964, when blacks were
still trying to establish civil rights and the idea of gay marriage was
as comprehensible as a man landing on the moon.
Sometimes, if they accidentally let their guard down in public, Mary Ann
Zielonko and Kitty Genovese would exchange a loving glance, maybe even
grasp hands for a second or two. Then, quickly, they would stop.
Now, looking back at two young lovers through senior citizen eyes,
Zielonko measures her adoration for Genovese in numerous ways. Love was
their regular Monday night sojourns to Grede's, a club where they would
drink beer and listen to folk music. It was Wednesday evening meals at
Hofbrau, the German restaurant down the block. It was the late-night
chats and the intimate kisses and the idea that here is a person you can
spend your life with.
In the end, love was identifying a body.
Forty years later, Zielonko is still haunted by the vision of Catherine
"Kitty" Genovese, her partner in life, dead on a table in Queens General
Hospital.
"It is something," she says softly, "that stays with me."
To millions of Americans, the name Kitty Genovese represents anything
but love. Her death was a story of apathy and selfishness, of what
results when people ignore the terrified shrieks of a woman being
murdered.
In the early morning of March 13, 1964, Genovese, a 28-year-old bar
manager getting off work, was walking toward her apartment in the quiet
Kew Gardens section of Queens. She spotted a man on the opposite side of
a parking lot and began to walk swiftly toward her home. From behind, he
attacked, stabbing Genovese repeatedly until she was dead. The man,
29-year-old Winston Moseley, also raped Genovese. No one came to her
aid.
Alone, the crime was yet another scary moment in scary New York City.
But two weeks after the slaying, The New York Times reported that while
38 neighbors had either heard or witnessed the attack, not one had acted
to help.
The case became infamous, and four decades after her death, Kitty
Genovese is remembered not so much as a human being but as a cultural
catch phrase for inexcusable indifference. Yet to Zielonko, Genovese is
alive. She is still standing there, in the Manhattan bar where the two
first met on an early spring day in 1963, running a hand through her
short brown hair while taking a drag from the end of a Camel cigarette.
Genovese was a talkative woman with big brown eyes, an infectious giggle
and a tiny gap at the tip of her two front teeth, and the 25-year-old
Zielonko was smitten. Within a week, Zielonko found a note taped to the
front door of her Upper West Side apartment:
"WILL CALL YOU AT THE STREET CORNER PHONE BOOTH AT 7. --KITTY G."
That night, they agreed to meet at Seven Steps, a gay bar on Houston
Street. Zielonko says Genovese told her she was once married to a man,
but the marriage was annulled once she came to grips with her sexuality.
Zielonko was Genovese's second relationship with a woman.
"We just hit it off," Zielonko recalled. "We meshed. I'm very quiet, and
she talked a lot. We both had struggles with our sexuality, as did many
people back then. We had a quick bond."
It was Zielonko's first serious relationship. For two weeks, they lived
in a motel room while seeking a permanent address. Then they lucked upon
82-70 Austin St., a one-bedroom apartment above a Kew Gardens pub, Old
Bailey's Bar.
For a year--"one of the happiest years of my life," Zielonko said--the
two lived together. Genovese managed Ev's 11th Hour, a sports bar, while
Zielonko tended bar at Club Chris.
"We would usually both work days," Zielonko said. "So we would spend our
nights together."
Now 65 and retired from her job building submarines for Electric Boat in
Groton, Conn., Zielonko confessed that her memory flickers from time to
time. The once-vivid images of Kitty have yellowed like a stack of old
newspapers. But she giggled like a schoolgirl remembering Andrew, the
miniature poodle Genovese gave her. Her mind flashed back to visits with
Genovese's since-deceased parents in New Canaan, Conn. Officially, in
the home of Vincent and Rachel Genovese, two old-school Catholics, Mary
Ann was Kitty's "friend."
"But I think her mother knew," Zielonko said. "She was always very nice
to me."
On the night of March 12, 1964, Zielonko went with a friend to a bowling
alley. She got home around 11 p.m., then fell asleep. A knock on the
door woke her the next morning. It was two police officers, asking
Zielonko to accompany them to the hospital.
"I was in shock," she says, softly. "Just ... shock."
A few days later, Zielonko attended Genovese's funeral in New Canaan,
where, she said, the family refused to acknowledge her. "I think it was
because of our lifestyle."
For the next six months, Zielonko said, she locked herself in the
apartment, alternating between crying and drinking.
"I kept to myself and grieved," she said. "Finally, I knew I had to get
on with my life."
That October, she moved to Brooklyn. A year later, Zielonko resumed
dating. She took a job as a teletype operator and at nights attended
Brooklyn College. She has a bachelor's degree in social work and a
master's in statistical analysis. Retired since 1997, she lives in West
Rutland, Vt., with her partner of 3 1/2 years.
Zielonko said that over the years she has tried to reach out to the
Genovese family, but with little success. Genovese's siblings declined
to talk to a reporter.
With the passing of time, Zielonko was able to leave most of the pain
behind. But come March 13, Kitty Genovese's name is inevitably evoked.
Zielonko's thoughts are always the same: What would 68-year-old Kitty
Genovese look like? Where would she live? Would they still be together?
Would they at least be friends?
"I think Kitty would probably own a bar," Zielonko said. "And I think
she would be happy." A pause. "We would both be."
<http://articles.chicagotribune.com/2004-03-12/news/0403120260_1_winston-
moseley-catherine-kitty-genovese-gay-bar>
<http://goo.gl/OuwrQ>
Reasonably current pic of Mary Ann:
<http://soundportraits.org/images/remembering_kitty_genovese-mary_ann.jp
g>
<http://goo.gl/znkfo>
BobF
May 18, 2013, 9:24:04 PM5/18/13
to
On Sat, 18 May 2013 18:56:26 -0400, A Friend <no...@noway.com> shouted
from the highest rooftop:
>With the passing of time, Zielonko was able to leave most of the pain
>behind. But come March 13, Kitty Genovese's name is inevitably evoked.
>Zielonko's thoughts are always the same: What would 68-year-old Kitty
>Genovese look like? Where would she live? Would they still be together?
>Would they at least be friends?
>
>"I think Kitty would probably own a bar," Zielonko said. "And I think
>she would be happy." A pause. "We would both be."
>
>
><http://articles.chicagotribune.com/2004-03-12/news/0403120260_1_winston-
>moseley-catherine-kitty-genovese-gay-bar>
>
><http://goo.gl/OuwrQ>
>
>
>Reasonably current pic of Mary Ann:
>
><http://soundportraits.org/images/remembering_kitty_genovese-mary_ann.jp
>g>
>
><http://goo.gl/znkfo>
http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x9K8K89NNRE/TX1UcBpI1zI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/qKUYVvHXw_A/s400/kitty.jpg
--
"It's not that I'm afraid to die. I just don't want to be there when it happens." - Woody Allen
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wax-up and drop-in of Surfing's Golden Years: <http://www.surfwriter.net>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
R
May 18, 2013, 10:53:02 PM5/18/13
to
Louis Epstein
May 19, 2013, 9:15:48 AM5/19/13
to
Matthew Kruk <nob...@home.com> wrote:
> http://www.nytimes.com/2013/05/18/nyregion/albert-seedman-former-chief-of-detectives-in-new-york-dies-at-94.html?ref=obituaries&_r=0
>
> The New York Times
>
>
> http://www.nytimes.com/2013/05/18/nyregion/albert-seedman-former-chief-of-detectives-in-new-york-dies-at-94.html?ref=obituaries&_r=0
>
> The New York Times
>
>
> Albert A. Seedman (the middle initial was solely that) was born on Aug. 19,
As a stylesheet issue,verified single-letter middle names ought not
to be followed by periods as if they were abbreviations...shame on
editors with contrary policies!
> 1918, in the Bronx, the son of a taxi driver. He liked to say that he first
> thought of becoming a police officer as a stairwell monitor in grade school.
>
> Commissioner Michael J. Murphy publicly expressed regret about the incident,
> and Mr. Seedman's expected promotion to deputy inspector was postponed. Mr.
> Dellernia was acquitted; two others were convicted.
I don't think Michael J. Murphy was related to...
> and Mr. Seedman's expected promotion to deputy inspector was postponed. Mr.
> Dellernia was acquitted; two others were convicted.
> In October 1971, while chief of detectives, Mr. Seedman found his
> integrity in question. A few days before the Knapp Commission,
> appointed by Mayor John V. Lindsay, opened hearings into police
> corruption, he was transferred out of his post when it was disclosed
> that he had accepted a free meal from the management of the New York
> Hilton for himself, his wife and two guests in March 1970. But
> Commissioner Patrick Murphy reinstated him a few days later.
or the even later Chief/First Deputy Commissioner
Patrick J. Murphy?
> Mr. Seedman retired in April 1972 to become chief of security for the
> Alexander's department store chain.
>
> His resignation came two weeks after Police Officer Philip Cardillo was shot
> with his own gun during a struggle inside a Nation of Islam mosque in Harlem,
> having responded to a 911 phone call - later determined to be a ruse - stating
> that a policeman was in trouble there. Officer Cardillo died of his wounds.
>
> The police had left the mosque abruptly while suspects were still being held
> there, and no one was ever convicted in the killing.
>
> An internal department report prepared in 1973, but not made public until 1983,
> found that it was Mr. Seedman who made the decision to allow 16 people being
> lined up for questioning inside the mosque to go free, under a promise from
> mosque officials that they would later be made available to the police. They
> never were. The report attributed the decision to break off the on-site
> investigation in part to the threat of a riot outside the mosque.
>
> But in an introduction to a 2011 e-book edition of his memoir, "Chief," Mr.
> Seedman said he had been ordered to remove the police from the mosque by Chief
> Inspector Michael Codd because of fears of racial violence. He said it was
> his anger over that order that compelled him to retire. Mr. Codd later became
> the police commissioner. He died in 1985.
(It designated what is now the Chief of Department,previously
Chief of Operations (which are two separate jobs in the FDNY)).
No other uniformed cop could give the Chief of Detectives an order.
> Mr. Seedman spent his later years in the placid condominium belt of South
> Florida, but he retained touches of rough-and-tumble New York. He carried a
> replica of his chief of detectives gold badge.
such a badge.I wonder if his was more official in origin.
-=-=-
The World Trade Center towers MUST rise again,
at least as tall as before...or terror has triumphed.
Louis Epstein
May 19, 2013, 9:25:45 AM5/19/13
to
A Friend <no...@noway.com> wrote:
> In article <kn8ei1$ihk$1...@reader1.panix.com>, danny burstein
> <dan...@panix.com> wrote:
>
>> I, of course, remembered [Seedman's] comments about Kitty Genoese,
>> which to my surprise had been completly ignored by the media when the
>> crime occured.
>>
>> - In his book, "Chief!" (with the exclamation point), he pointed out
>> that Kitty had been one of those "L" word types (and I don't mean
>> librrrrrls), and that one key part of the investigation was focused
>> on a lovers' spat.
>
>
> Infamous '64 murder lives in heart of woman's `friend'
>
> It became a nation's shame: Kitty Genovese was viciously slain, and
> though many heard or saw, no one helped. Her gay lover recalls their
> life, her grief.
>
> March 12, 2004|By Jeff Pearlman, Tribune Newspapers. Newsday.
>
> NEW YORK ? At the time, they were "friends"--in quotes. It's how you
> In article <kn8ei1$ihk$1...@reader1.panix.com>, danny burstein
> <dan...@panix.com> wrote:
>
>> I, of course, remembered [Seedman's] comments about Kitty Genoese,
>> which to my surprise had been completly ignored by the media when the
>> crime occured.
>>
>> - In his book, "Chief!" (with the exclamation point), he pointed out
>> that Kitty had been one of those "L" word types (and I don't mean
>> librrrrrls), and that one key part of the investigation was focused
>> on a lovers' spat.
>
>
> Infamous '64 murder lives in heart of woman's `friend'
>
> It became a nation's shame: Kitty Genovese was viciously slain, and
> though many heard or saw, no one helped. Her gay lover recalls their
> life, her grief.
>
> March 12, 2004|By Jeff Pearlman, Tribune Newspapers. Newsday.
>
> would explain two women living together back in 1964, when blacks were
> still trying to establish civil rights and the idea of gay marriage was
> as comprehensible as a man landing on the moon.
Not sure what is meant here...same-sex "marriage" was INcomprehensible,
> still trying to establish civil rights and the idea of gay marriage was
> as comprehensible as a man landing on the moon.
as it always should be,but landing a man on the moon was then an objective
toward which we were actively working,and is now something not done in
over forty years and which we couldn't if we wanted to repeat in less
time than it took from 1964 to the first occurrence.
I'd gladly trade public acceptance of same-sex "marriage" for
renewed and permanent human lunar settlement...sometimes we
have taken wrong paths in history.
> To millions of Americans, the name Kitty Genovese represents anything
> but love. Her death was a story of apathy and selfishness, of what
> results when people ignore the terrified shrieks of a woman being
> murdered.
Giving in to bad inclinations in choice of bedmate
doesn't mean anyone should kill you.
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