By Iva Anthony
TNCP NY Correspondent
NEW YORK, NY –The cold, hard grey cement steps of the Limelight, a former church that was renovated into a disco club in Chelsea, Manhattan, was an uncomfortable bed for James Moore but it would have to do. Perched in his usual spot, 38-year-old Moores dressed in a navy blue sweatshirt, black jeans, construction boots and a Yankees baseball cap, smoked one Newport cigarette after another and stared aimlessly ahead. Moore is homeless and has been living on the streets of New York City on and off since the summer of 2003.
"During the week, it’s easier for me to get some sleep," Moore said. "On the weekends with the kids lined up out here trying to get in the club, there’s no way that I could even get close to this step. I try to sleep at the 14th station down the block. It’s not as comfortable as here but then again this ain’t that comfortable to begin with."
As a young boy growing up in the streets of Red Hook, Brooklyn, Moore dreamed of being an airplane mechanic. He was always good with his hands and he frequently fixed appliances for his mother and neighbors. Moore was the last of five children. His father passed away of a heart attack at the age of 48 when Moore was 7 years old. His mother fell into a deep depression and left her five children to fend for themselves.
"I was a knuckle head," Moore said and chuckled, showing a rare smile. "I didn’t want to be a nerd or a geek. I wanted to party, hang out with the ladies, run the streets all night."
Moore spent less and less time in school. Scared to stay home with his depressed mother, Moore would pretend to go to class then hang out at a friend’s house until it was too late to be out. He dropped out in the ninth grade and became a permanent fixture on the streets. Despite being the baby of the family, Moore received little attention from his mother and older siblings. He soon found the love that he craved when he befriended Curtis "Fish" Washington, who was 10 years older than Moore. Washington became a father figure for Moore, teaching him everything from how to play dominoes to how to pass off baking powder as cocaine to unsuspecting customers.
"Man, we would go all the way to Morningside (located in Manhattan) to sell to those fools," said Moore. "We would make a little money then go get us a little reefer and hang out with some girls that we knew. But I guess it finally caught up to us. One day I woke up and Fish was gone. Word on the street was he went out to run his little scam one night without me and tried to fool the wrong guy."
Moore’s voice trailed off. A dark cloud washed over his face and he stared straight ahead with a far away look in his eyes. He coughed a few times before taking another cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it up.
Moore had a hard time adjusting to life on the streets of New York without Washington. He moved out to California and stayed with a relative on his mother’s side until he made his way back to New York after a relationship with the wrong woman turned sour.
"It was one bad decision after another and a string of bad luck," said Moore, rubbing his left cheek once again. "I liked working with my hands but with no schooling, I took one shitty job after another. My mother moved down to Florida to live with a sister of hers. My oldest brother, Ron, was murdered. My only sister, Lily, died of diabetes and I lost touch with my other brothers so it’s just me in New York. I used to work for this Jewish guy who had his own appliance repair shop but after that closed down, I’ve been out of work ever since."
Moore lost his apartment in the Bronx soon after losing his job. Now he does odd jobs for a few of people he knows in his old neighborhood every now and then to put a few dollars in his pockets. He hopes to save up enough money to move down to Florida and be with his mother.
"She doesn’t know that I’m on the streets," Moore said, still staring straight ahead.
He coughed a few more times and was silent for several minutes.
"It would kill her to see me like this," continued Moore. "After all she’s been through, I can’t tell her that her baby sleeps on the sidewalk at nights."
