Early in the summer of 1776, when the war was still in its early stages, British General William Howe embarked on a campaign to gain control of the city and its militarily important harbor. After occupying Staten Island in July, he launched a successful attack on Long Island in late August, assisted by naval forces under the command of his brother, Admiral Lord Richard Howe.[4] American General George Washington recognized the inevitability of the capture of New York City, and withdrew the bulk of his army about 101 miles (16n km) north to Harlem Heights.[5] Several people, including General Nathanael Greene and New York's John Jay advocated burning the city down to deny its benefits to the British.[6] Washington laid the question before the Second Continental Congress, which rejected the idea: it should in no event be damaged .[7]
Our challenge is to be town criers. The billionaire mayor is creating a vertical suburb. New York is burning. I'll raise my daughter here. It is a once-great coastal city and the earth is closing over it. That will put the fire out. I see roots hanging down out of low-hanging clouds. Each of us knows that the time to cry out is moments away. The New York Times tries to silence it by reporting it. But the tornadoes and volcanoes and landslides throw our breakfast tables in the air.
Our knowledge is a library of love for this city. The earth is closing over it. New York is burning. That is how the movies portray it, over and over again. Giant waves, back-drafts from hell, aliens in ships the size of a second New York. The advertising for the next Apocalypse assails us from the subway walls as we wait for the F Train. Meanwhile, above us, bankers in amazing glass buildings make their money destroying mountain ranges. Men put mountains on the walls and stick paint-brushes into wounds in their heads and dance dollar signs on the cloudy cliffs.
Nine million naked citizens know where their gardens should have been. When a neighbor defends a tree we rush out to make a documentary about it. Then NYPD officers, Yankee fans with loaded guns, demand that we produce our film permit while videotaping us from a foot away. All imagery must flow toward the city's logo. The arts have disappeared behind glass. New York is burning. The human project is accelerating in reverse. The glamorous menace of our city's past -- where someone bit your ear in an alley and you knew that you could be a full-blown eccentric and universally loved forever? That is now for sale. It's a fire sale.
