Frozen Moments Lost In Time.

Schwartz of the Fire Patrol

Schwartz hanged himself in the firehouse and is alleged to have haunted it thereafter. Mike and I were supposed to meet early at the parade so I could take some shots of him at the Fire Patrol building on West 3rd Street. But a combination of factors—mostly my not finishing my costume until late and not getting my makeup on until after 6pm—caused me to be late to the parade start.
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In the meantime, Mike had gone off with his friends, and we didn't see each other during the parade. Afterwards, I went off to the East Village (he was still in the West) and each of us figured we'd just missed each other. I didn't call him when I was heading home, since I thought he'd left hours ago.
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I was planning on taking an F train from Houston & 1st (I was in the East Village) to West 4th (two stops) and changing to an A and taking that to the faraway land, way up north. Now pay attention, boys and girls, 'cause this is important. The A, however, was running local on the F track (late night track work) so I didn't need to change. And at West 4th, of all the gin joints in all the world, Mike walks into mine: same exact train, same exact car. What are the odds?
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He was just heading a few stops north to Penn Station (34th Street) and during the few minutes we had together I took these shots. So I did get to see his costume and he mine. Sometimes life just works out without trying.

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