Defending the Occupation

“You guys are not going to get much sleep tonight. We’re going to clean up all night . . . we need more coffee.”

—A broom-wielding occupier in Zuccotti Park

On the evening of October 12, 2011, Zuccotti Park received an unexpected visitor. Mayor Michael Bloomberg, who two days earlier had declared that he would not evict Occupy Wall Street so long as it broke no laws, arrived at the park to shake the hands of Occupiers and to vow that he would balance their First Amendment right to assemble with the rights of other New Yorkers and Brookfield Properties, the park’s owners.

By the next morning, the city’s tone seemed to shift. Just after 8 a.m. on October 13, a line of police officers, armed with stacks of paper, marched through Zuccotti. They passed out a notice from Brookfield Properties announcing a planned cleaning of the park at 7 a.m. the following day, October 14, and a new set of park rules. Under the new rules the use of tarps and sleeping bags was expressly prohibited, as were tents. The notice also banned “lying down on the ground, or laying down on benches, sitting areas, or walkways which unreasonably interferes with the use of benches, sitting areas, or walkways by others.” The signal was clear—the occupation was being declared illegal. Upon reading the notice, occupier Mesiah BurciagaHameed said she immediately considered it “a pretext for our eviction.” Betsy Fagin, a founder of the People’s Library, said that many held the same suspicion: “We knew, because we coordinate with all the other occupations. Austin had been shut down that same day with exactly the same letter. So we knew that they were going to try to come and kick us out.”

As soon as the notice hit the park, frenzied discussions arose among the occupiers as to how they should respond. An impromptu “People’s Meeting”—a consensus-based meeting similar to the General Assembly, but lacking the latter body’s formal organization or facilitators—was formed, and after passionate debate a consensus arose around one simple strategy. If the owners were concerned that Zuccotti was dirty, the occupiers would clean the park themselves.

But what did that entail? According to Andrew, a member of the Sanitation working group, a first priority was moving and “condensing” the personal belongings of occupiers. But such an effort proved tricky. Where would the belongings be moved— to storage? Would occupiers remove them from the park themselves? Furthermore, would all occupiers even heed the call to clean the park, or would some resist? By noon, Andrew said, early concerns were allayed as Zuccotti residents rose to the task—requests poured in to Sanitation for clear plastic bags, 50 brooms, two dozen mops. The demands of the clean-up effort quickly surpassed the supplies of the working group, which had only a single garbage-can-full of perhaps one dozen brooms.

While these requests streamed in, other occupiers set about informing and rallying Occupy movement supporters both inside the park and beyond. Within Zuccotti, as word spread of the occupiers’ decision to clean the park themselves, enthusiasm mixed with a general sense of fear that eviction might be near. As the afternoon wore on, Sanitation managed to secure enough brooms and mops to fill the requests it had received and the occupiers formed what Andrew called a “Sanitation Army.” The cleaning army continued packing up belongings and, by evening, began sweeping the park through and through, brushing the park’s granite walks in successive waves.

Meanwhile, several working groups began reaching out to the movement’s supporters in the New York community in preparation for the confrontation that they expected would come the next morning. Calls went out over the Internet, urging anyone who was able to make their way down to the park to help with the immense cleaning effort. The Labor Outreach Committee procured a strong showing of solidarity from New York City unions, contacting park employees, sanitation workers, and custodians particularly to help with the “clean up.” Most significantly, many of the city’s unions, including the Communications Workers of America, the United Auto Workers, and Service Employees International Union 1199 pledged to send members at 6 a.m. on the 14th—an hour before the scheduled cleaning— and the United Federation of Teachers also vowed to turn out members in solidarity. In an unprecedented move, the New York City-area AFL-CIO sent out an emergency email around 8 p.m. the night before the scheduled cleaning with the subject line reading “Go to Wall Street. NOW.” Labor was also lending its support behind the scenes, according to Maida Rosenstein, president of UAW local 2110. “A lot of people were calling the mayor, and calling elected officials, and telling them to call the mayor,” Rosenstein said. “People leveraging the clout they have with elected officials.”

The legal working group was also quick to mobilize its network of support, urging “all available supporters” in individual community groups to come out at 6 a.m. The legal team conducted a comprehensive investigation of the claims made by Brookfield Properties in their notification letter. Armed with the results of that investigation and an upgraded official sanitation strategy coming from the Sanitation working group, the National Lawyers Guild issued a notice of its own, directed to Brookfield Properties and Mayor Bloomberg, in which it denounced the proposed violation of First Amendment rights and warned that “prior court approval” would be required to carry out police action.

As community members, students and organized labor prepared to descend on Zuccotti early the following morning, the Sanitation Army continued apace through the night. Benjamin Shepard, an OWS activist, arrived at Zuccotti late in the evening, hoping to find some time to rest before the morning standoff. Upon arriving, however, Ben found the square packed with occupiers and allies. Many of those cleaning had already resigned themselves to a long night, including one older man, armed with a broom in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, who explicitly warned, “You guys are not going to get much sleep tonight. We’re going to clean up all night, we need more coffee.” The usually light-hearted spirit of the encampment was notably absent. It had also begun to rain. At first the drizzle was still light enough that, upon finding a sleeping spot shortly after midnight, Ben was able to spread a tarp and sheets and get some sleep. But just after 1 a.m. the drizzle intensified into a downpour, pelting his tarp and soaking his clothes through as it pooled and flowed along the park’s granite surface. By 2 a.m., Ben had retired with some friends to the Blarney Stone, a nearby pub they had come to frequent.

Meanwhile, waves of broom-wielding protesters continued to sweep the length of the park, while others, including Amina Malika and her friend Mesiah painstakingly scrubbed the park surface on their hands and knees, repeatedly going back over spots that had already been rendered spotless several times before. If anything was less than sparkling, the occupiers feared that city authorities would use it to justify a cleaning of their own, not to mention an eviction. A driving, horizontal wind blew through the park, ensuring that everyone and everything was soaked through. While this was a nuisance for those attempting to sleep, the weather was on the side of those cleaning. Zuccotti Park is built on an incline, and the rain that poured into the park and blew sideways across its raised surfaces flowed down the length of the space and out, helping to sweep the park clean. As the rain poured and the thunder clapped Amina and Mesiah, giddy with exhaustion, cheered alongside their fellow cleaners—some of whom tore off their shirts in celebratory defiance of the storm.

Meanwhile, at the People’s Library, the mood was less celebratory than frenetic. Earlier in the day, the librarians had moved half of the library’s 5,000 or so books to a nearby storage space donated by the United Federation of Teachers. They had placed the other half of the library’s holdings into plastic bins, wrapped in tarp against the expected rain, which were left on park benches so that the cleaning crews could sweep underneath. “We were just going to leave [the rest of the library] there and say, hey, this is important, it’s part of the occupation, it stays,” recalled Jaime, a People’s Librarian. But at 2 a.m., as cleaning proceeded in the park and the rain intensified, plans changed abruptly. Jaime had managed only a couple of hours of sleep when her phone awoke her. “I get these panicky text messages from a couple of the librarians being like ‘Oh my god, Sanitation tells us we have to move the library now! It has to go!’” Jaime recalled. “And the rest of us at home were like, ‘Where’s it going to go? Storage has been closed for five hours. We can’t put it there. What are you even talking about?’” Those librarians in the park made a snap decision—the books would go to New Jersey. One protester had a friend with a place there. Another had a car. And so, in the frenzy of cleaning Zuccotti, half the contents of the People’s Library were carted across the Hudson.

Just before 4 a.m., the rain abated and the cleaning effort slowed. Movement supporters began to flow into the park, the first of several waves that would ultimately swell the park’s population to around 3,000. As throngs of people packed Zuccotti, keeping the park clean and tidy became the challenge. Any imperfection in the park’s appearance, the occupiers feared, might prove enough of an excuse for Brookfield and Bloomberg. A major concern was the flowerbeds scattered throughout the park and ensuring they were not trampled. Calls to “watch the flowers!” rang out as some attempted to detour around the crowds by going through the flowerbeds. One photojournalist attempted such a maneuver only to find protester Kat Mahaney with her hand over his lens—she refused to give him a clear shot until he stopped crushing the flowers. Ted Hall, one of the Occupy camp’s most visible members, stood atop the edge of a planter in the park’s center, using the people’s microphone to encourage those gathered. One occupier, KV, reported a sense of “electricity in the air” as the crowd amassed. The excitement grew as a contingent of hundreds descended on the park all at once—“The unions are here to back us up! THE UNIONS ARE HERE TO BACK U.S. UP!” someone shouted through the people’s microphone to thunderous cheers. By 5 a.m. a group near Broadway had begun chanting, “Whose streets? Our streets!” and occupiers soon began waking up all who had been sleeping, giving them just under two hours to prepare for the expected confrontation. Tensions mounted, ratcheting with every “Mic Check! MIC CHECK!”

Shortly after 6 a.m., the hour at which occupiers had called on supporters to assemble, yet another “Mic Check!” was called by a woman perched on one of the marble walls at the park’s edge. She informed those gathered, using their voices as amplification, that a plan was in place for holding the square, and that those who were not part of that plan—those who did not have a place and row assigned for them to sit and disobey a potential police order to move—were welcome to stay, but faced a high risk of arrest. Those in the crowd, she added, who could not be arrested were invited to cross the street and offer their support from sidewalks facing the park. “Waves of people repeated the invitation from the direct action working group to join them in linking arms and keeping the Plaza,” recalled Marina Sitrin. “The response was resounding applause. There was no discussion, debate or hesitation. Not only did people agree with shouts, whistles, and their fingers twinkling in the air, but with their bodies.” The sporadic flashes of press photographers twinkled as light began to creep into the sky.

Then, after 6:30 a.m. and just minutes shy of the cleaning deadline, another mic check rang out: “Mic check! MIC CHECK! I’d like to read a brief statement! I’D LIKE TO READ A BRIEF STATEMENT! From Deputy Mayor Holloway! FROM DEPUTY MAYOR HOLLOWAY! We received notice from the owners of Zuccotti Park! WE RECEIEVED NOTICE FROM THE OWNERS OF ZUCCOTTI PARK! Brookfield Properties that they are postponing their cleaning!” At which point the human mic fell to shouts of joy, which echoed through the crowd of thousands gathered, spreading the news without spreading the words—the Occupation had been saved. An explosion of screaming, laughter, embraces, and jubilant drumming erupted across the park. Smartphone screens lit up as many in the square began posting the news to their Twitter and Facebook feeds, and a marching band began to play near the Joie de Vivre sculpture in the park’s southeastern corner. Chants quickly spread through the crowd: “We are the 99 percent!” and “We can change the course of history!” they echoed along with the human mic, which was now five waves deep. “We can defend this square from oppression!”

***

Once it was clear that the park was safe, calls for further action began to relay through the crowd via the people’s microphone. Two marches were being considered: one to Wall Street, with the intention of finally occupying the financial district itself, and the other to City Hall, to thank Mayor Bloomberg for having halted the eviction proceedings, not to mention to “Show him what democracy looks like!” In a matter of minutes the crowd began pressing toward the northeastern corner of Zuccotti and, around the metal police barricades that still lined the sidewalks surrounding the park, the columns for both marches began to form. Protesters danced and chanted “We are the 99 percent!” as they spilled out onto the sidewalk along Broadway, accompanied by the steady pulse of the drummers who had come to symbolize the heart of the occupation. Staving off eviction had imbued the crowd with a renewed sense of power and confidence. Now, as at no time before during the Occupy Wall Street movement’s nearly month-long presence in Lower Manhattan, it seemed possible to successfully stage a march on the heart of Wall Street. One contingent of marchers began moving south on Broadway toward Wall Street, many wielding the brooms they had used to clean Zuccotti hours earlier. The march carried with it the celebratory mood that had overtaken the park, and its spontaneity seemed to catch the NYPD off guard.

At first, police struggled to keep protesters on the sidewalks, an inability to manage the situation that was only punctuated by the question that chanters posed to any who would hear: “Whose streets?” along with its corresponding, booming response, “OUR STREETS!” Soon enough, however, a line of police scooters formed a V shape behind a segment of the march in an attempt to push protesters from the street. Toward the rear of the march most occupiers peacefully resisted the police, while at the head the rhythm of the Occupiers’ drums reverberated as marchers leapt over police barriers to try to gain access to the streets adjacent to the New York Stock Exchange. Police met this advancing front of protesters with force, arresting several protesters and injuring several more. Others kept marching, snaking through the streets of lower Manhattan, chased all the way by police, whose sirens filled the streets. Confusion abounded as the march fragmented with every confrontation with the police. Phone calls and text messages, exchanged by friends who found themselves separated in the tumult, painted a chaotic scene—conflict near Bowling Green, wrong turns, arrests near Exchange Place.

As the march moved westward toward South Street Seaport, white-shirted senior-rank police officers pulled out batons to corral the march. By the time the group looped eastward on Maiden Lane and Pearl Street, the crowd started to run up the street, where the police had pushed activists into the street before arresting one young woman. “Its really hot out here,” remarked a man with drums in his hands as the rallies overlapped. “We’ve been on cars drumming. It’s a real riot out here.” Several were arrested as the march continued to weave through the streets, and reports of excessive police force abounded—one man’s leg was run over by a policeman on a scooter, VOCALNY leader Felix Rivera-Pitre was punched in the face by an officer. Ultimately the march retreated back to Zuccotti, after one marcher screamed, “Get back to the square! They are taking the square!”

Fears that police would take Zuccotti also plagued the second march, which headed north from the park toward City Hall. That march was less confrontational than the march on Wall Street, with protesters mostly sticking to the sidewalks and following the route marked by the police, who lined the edges of Broadway to prevent marchers from crossing into the street. Chants of “We are the 99 percent!” rang out, interspersed with the call-and-response, “Show me what democracy looks like! This is what democracy looks like!” and, “How do we fix this deficit? Stop the war! Tax the rich!” The celebratory mood was tempered as marchers approached the gates to City Hall Park, where vans of riot-geared officers awaited. Those officers, however, were assigned to preventing the march from entering the City Hall complex, and when no one attempted to enter, the police merely stood by as the march continued to flow past. The march’s stay at City Hall was short-lived, as word spread that Zuccotti was being taken by the police in the marchers’ absence. Rattled, marchers began moving back down Broadway at a brisk pace, trying to balance the desire to get back to the park quickly with the need to maintain cohesion. As he walked back, Alex Gomez-del-Moral, one of the many who had arrived at Zuccotti Park between 5 and 6 a.m. was in the midst of a phone interview with a Toronto-based radio station, narrating the progress of the march. When the returning column of protesters burst back into the area around Liberty Plaza, he, like many around him, breathed a sigh of relief, and then reported what he had found: The only people in Zuccotti were the occupiers, soggy and weary but invigorated by the success of their all-night defense of the park.

As the morning wore on and those who marched to City Hall and Wall Street returned, a sense of exhausted normalcy settled across the park. Some went off in search of much-needed coffee or breakfast. Others attempted to sleep. Still others struck up discussions, and soon the sound of conversations and a steady drum beat once again filled the damp morning air of Zuccotti Park.