60 Wall Street
Completed in 1989 and standing fifty-five stories tall, 60 Wall Street is currently the 26th largest building in New York City, dwarfing the pre-war towers that surround it. Originally built as the JP Morgan Bank headquarters, it was sold and became the New York headquarters of Deutsche Bank in 2001, then sold again to Paramount Group with a 15 year contract to lease the entire building back to Deutsche Bank, sold for some non-pubic gain on both ends, and the German-based company occupies all of it today. Aside from the large impression this corporate building makes on Manhattan’s Financial District, the building is rather bland. Where the structure gets interesting, realizing some of the postmodern, Greek-revival, and neoclassical intentions of its designers, is within its ground-level atrium. This indoor park, privately owned and open to the public (just like Zuccotti Park) every day from 7am to 10pm, has revolving-door entrances on Wall and Pine Street, and is flanked by waterfall structures along one wall and a row of shops and cafés along the other. It is a vacuous mix of mirrored columns rising thirty to forty feet high, patches of artificial palm trees, light and dark marble tiles covering most of the lower half of the structure, and security guards now accompanied by suited police officers. It was normally used as a lunch area by members of the Wall Street community or a place to sit and play chess by members of the homeless community. For the moment, though, this has also become a meeting place that is warm, secure, and well lit, even boasting two public restrooms, for many members of the OWS community.
Several working groups sit in chairs around tables to discuss various functions and activities, and when the weather turns bad the occasional General Assembly is even held here. The press is rarely present, which makes sense. Calm yet impassioned discussions are no match for signs, chants, people’s mics, drumming, or police confrontations when it comes to juicy photos and sound bites. There are still business suits eating sandwiches and old playing young at chess or backgammon, but now there is also a constant flux of people forming into groups, large and small, to both implement the organization of the movement’s democracy and to further their own autonomous objectives. The working groups began using 60 Wall Street for their more intimate, yet always public meetings shortly after the occupation began. “When I first got to 60 Wall Street, very few people were meeting there,” said Imani J. Brown, speaking of the Arts and Culture working group she frequently facilitated. “And now, of course, there are hundreds of people who are there all day, every day.”
Even our group of writers, interviewers, and general book contributors used this convenient inside park for meetings. We sat around a table, sometimes two when there were enough people to warrant it, and placed a piece of paper on the table with “Book” sprawled across it. The occasional lost activist would stop by and ask if this was the Media working group, or Poetry, or without looking at the signifying paper at all they would ask if we were one of any number of the groups around us. “Is this Comfort?” one would ask. “Can you tell me where Comfort is meeting?” Usually we didn’t know, but sometimes we did and would point them in the right direction. Fortunately, even when we didn’t know it wasn’t hard for the person to head to the next table surrounded by people to see if that was the group he or she was looking for. Some would even stop by our meetings for general announcements concerning the park or the movement. “Sorry to interrupt, but the weather out there is pretty bad, so the GA is going to set up here in about fifteen minutes,” one publicized; another said, “I’m one of the people still sleeping out at the park…last night we had thirty of us, and only two umbrellas. If you are going straight home after this, consider stopping by the park to donate your umbrella so we can stay dry out there tonight.” Both of these pauses came at one of our final meetings, and they were welcomed and we were thankful for the messages. Some unwelcome interruptions came from a loud speaker crackling overhead with announcements of planned fire drills or the testing of equipment. It seemed that over the past two months this corporate-owned park had to check its equipment nearly every day, forcing several minutes of loud voices and noises that stopped all meetings in progress and forced everyone to “hold that thought” until the inside park was somewhat quiet again. When this happened, one could hear the bustling of thoughts and ideas continue in unison, as if they hadn’t missed a beat.
In form, those there are groups of people, seated in a circle, discussing issues pertaining to Zuccotti Park and the growing national movement. In practice, the working groups reveal the pleasures and pitfalls of communication. They loosen the grip of prejudices, moving conversation in the direction of consensus. They can also be painfully inefficient at times, degenerating into a mob of opinions unable to find a common ground. When this happens, an agreed upon form of communication becomes helpful. The working groups’ intentions are to avoid alienating any minority and to work to resolve any objections. This is done in a number of ways, partly through a facilitator and partly by establishing a list of agenda items at the beginning of each meeting. Agenda items are discussed one by one, and if the order of the “stack” is followed, then seemingly arduous debates can be resolved with time. It is difficult to pin down exactly what happens in these working groups at any given moment. They have different titles and objectives, usually displayed on papers on the tables where they sit, but they sometimes don’t strictly adhere to them. There seems to be a “house of cards” among these working groups, a construction held together by nothing more than the will of its members. It is this earnest fragility that magnifies their scope and requires each figure to hold their own. A facilitator works to keep the formal process in place while remaining as neutral as possible on the subject at hand. Members sitting around the circles register agreement and distaste, just as they do in a General Assembly, with a “twinkling” of their fingers. Upwards twinkling is a “yes, sure, great, I like it.” Downwards is a “no, wrong, I don’t think so.” Twinkling with a hand held flat is “I am ambivalent or neutral on the issue.”
Using this pro-active technique of ensuring anyone who wants their voice heard is given the opportunity, people can discuss actions and activities, chat about successes, examine failures, air grievances, express concerns, argue, and understand. Looking beyond the horizontal democracy of the General Assembly, one can see a further realization of the movement’s guiding principles in the organization and execution of the many meetings occurring daily throughout all of the park’s open hours. The spark that ignites around these tables often bursts onto the streets with displays and events that further the movement’s message to the masses.
Completed in 1989 and standing fifty-five stories tall, 60 Wall Street is currently the 26th largest building in New York City, dwarfing the pre-war towers that surround it. Originally built as the JP Morgan Bank headquarters, it was sold and became the New York headquarters of Deutsche Bank in 2001, then sold again to Paramount Group with a 15 year contract to lease the entire building back to Deutsche Bank, sold for some non-pubic gain on both ends, and the German-based company occupies all of it today. Aside from the large impression this corporate building makes on Manhattan’s Financial District, the building is rather bland. Where the structure gets interesting, realizing some of the postmodern, Greek-revival, and neoclassical intentions of its designers, is within its ground-level atrium. This indoor park, privately owned and open to the public (just like Zuccotti Park) every day from 7am to 10pm, has revolving-door entrances on Wall and Pine Street, and is flanked by waterfall structures along one wall and a row of shops and cafés along the other. It is a vacuous mix of mirrored columns rising thirty to forty feet high, patches of artificial palm trees, light and dark marble tiles covering most of the lower half of the structure, and security guards now accompanied by suited police officers. It was normally used as a lunch area by members of the Wall Street community or a place to sit and play chess by members of the homeless community. For the moment, though, this has also become a meeting place that is warm, secure, and well lit, even boasting two public restrooms, for many members of the OWS community.
Several working groups sit in chairs around tables to discuss various functions and activities, and when the weather turns bad the occasional General Assembly is even held here. The press is rarely present, which makes sense. Calm yet impassioned discussions are no match for signs, chants, people’s mics, drumming, or police confrontations when it comes to juicy photos and sound bites. There are still business suits eating sandwiches and old playing young at chess or backgammon, but now there is also a constant flux of people forming into groups, large and small, to both implement the organization of the movement’s democracy and to further their own autonomous objectives. The working groups began using 60 Wall Street for their more intimate, yet always public meetings shortly after the occupation began. “When I first got to 60 Wall Street, very few people were meeting there,” said Imani J. Brown, speaking of the Arts and Culture working group she frequently facilitated. “And now, of course, there are hundreds of people who are there all day, every day.”
Even our group of writers, interviewers, and general book contributors used this convenient inside park for meetings. We sat around a table, sometimes two when there were enough people to warrant it, and placed a piece of paper on the table with “Book” sprawled across it. The occasional lost activist would stop by and ask if this was the Media working group, or Poetry, or without looking at the signifying paper at all they would ask if we were one of any number of the groups around us. “Is this Comfort?” one would ask. “Can you tell me where Comfort is meeting?” Usually we didn’t know, but sometimes we did and would point them in the right direction. Fortunately, even when we didn’t know it wasn’t hard for the person to head to the next table surrounded by people to see if that was the group he or she was looking for. Some would even stop by our meetings for general announcements concerning the park or the movement. “Sorry to interrupt, but the weather out there is pretty bad, so the GA is going to set up here in about fifteen minutes,” one publicized; another said, “I’m one of the people still sleeping out at the park…last night we had thirty of us, and only two umbrellas. If you are going straight home after this, consider stopping by the park to donate your umbrella so we can stay dry out there tonight.” Both of these pauses came at one of our final meetings, and they were welcomed and we were thankful for the messages. Some unwelcome interruptions came from a loud speaker crackling overhead with announcements of planned fire drills or the testing of equipment. It seemed that over the past two months this corporate-owned park had to check its equipment nearly every day, forcing several minutes of loud voices and noises that stopped all meetings in progress and forced everyone to “hold that thought” until the inside park was somewhat quiet again. When this happened, one could hear the bustling of thoughts and ideas continue in unison, as if they hadn’t missed a beat.
In form, those there are groups of people, seated in a circle, discussing issues pertaining to Zuccotti Park and the growing national movement. In practice, the working groups reveal the pleasures and pitfalls of communication. They loosen the grip of prejudices, moving conversation in the direction of consensus. They can also be painfully inefficient at times, degenerating into a mob of opinions unable to find a common ground. When this happens, an agreed upon form of communication becomes helpful. The working groups’ intentions are to avoid alienating any minority and to work to resolve any objections. This is done in a number of ways, partly through a facilitator and partly by establishing a list of agenda items at the beginning of each meeting. Agenda items are discussed one by one, and if the order of the “stack” is followed, then seemingly arduous debates can be resolved with time. It is difficult to pin down exactly what happens in these working groups at any given moment. They have different titles and objectives, usually displayed on papers on the tables where they sit, but they sometimes don’t strictly adhere to them. There seems to be a “house of cards” among these working groups, a construction held together by nothing more than the will of its members. It is this earnest fragility that magnifies their scope and requires each figure to hold their own. A facilitator works to keep the formal process in place while remaining as neutral as possible on the subject at hand. Members sitting around the circles register agreement and distaste, just as they do in a General Assembly, with a “twinkling” of their fingers. Upwards twinkling is a “yes, sure, great, I like it.” Downwards is a “no, wrong, I don’t think so.” Twinkling with a hand held flat is “I am ambivalent or neutral on the issue.”
Using this pro-active technique of ensuring anyone who wants their voice heard is given the opportunity, people can discuss actions and activities, chat about successes, examine failures, air grievances, express concerns, argue, and understand. Looking beyond the horizontal democracy of the General Assembly, one can see a further realization of the movement’s guiding principles in the organization and execution of the many meetings occurring daily throughout all of the park’s open hours. The spark that ignites around these tables often bursts onto the streets with displays and events that further the movement’s message to the masses.