Our Blackout Adventure!

Joe Harvard
Sep 17, 2017
5 min read

Before the lights were fixed ...

... and after lights were fixed!

It all began Friday, when I went in to do some work on our gARTen Boardwalk. While I eschew power tools for creating my work as part of the project's philosophical framework, I decided after hand drilling and screwing half a dozen creaky boards that it was madness to extend that modus operandi to maintenance tasks, of which we have many. So I dragged out my power drill. Alas, when I plugged it in, no power.

Hmm. Not to worry, I knew that our friends at Cookman Creamery, who donate our electricity, were having some work done earlier that week. When I saw one of the Johnsons I would ask if the breaker was off. I was able to do just that, minutes before I left for the day, when I ran into Mike, but he said they hadn't touched the roof power, nor intentionally turned it off. He would check the breaker, and I would come in early the next day to see what was what.

Saturday morning arrived, and the first ominous sign of repair mayhem was the Bond St. Block Party. The security crew were blocking the alley behind the Cookman '700' block with Porta-Potty's for "security", but agreed to let me have 15 minutes to get up on the roof and do some work.

Once I ambled up the ladder and onto the roof, I discovered that the initial extension cord -- first in a series which power Cookman's own string lights [via timer] as well as diverging to drop a cable into the gARTen -- had been neatly cut. Apparently, this happened while the repair people were on the roof working on the air conditioning unit. The single outlet and switch our plug was in sits just above the AC unit. A case of mistaken identity?

Having found the source of the "short", I had to provide a replacement. The 75-foot cable that was cut is a costly item. There are at least a dozen good, outdoor extension cords in play throughout the gARTen, including three up on the roof, but most are concealed or weather-protected and aren't easy to move; they're also much shorter, 12 to 20 feet, to keep resistance down. The only cord that would easily replace the cut cord was a hundred footer I got to run the power from the roof down to the lot. Problem was it was partly buried, and required a trip down and 20 minutes to disentangle it.

Freeing cords tangled up in ivy on the roof was tricky

With 5 minutes left on my grace period from rock show security I made my down and headed back up the alley to Bond only to discover: shades of Poe's 'Cask of Amontillado'! They had pushed all the Porta-Potty's together into a solid wall, and I was trapped. But not without options.

I made my way back down the alley and used the heavily booby-trapped back way into the gARTen: through the fence, under the thorns, watch the glass shards, along the decrepit wall avoiding the Poison Ivy and finally a six foot jump into the lot. Wanna watch? Use the link below!

https://www.facebook.com/joe.harvard/videos/10155824399119066/

I stuck up a ladder there so I could eliminate the last leap of faith bit in my Indiana Jones odyssey. Then went to dig up the thirty or so feet of carefully concealed, 12-gauge exterior electrical extension cord, then rolled up the whole hundred feet, and headed for another go.

Risky route to the alley via the Back Forty

When I finally made the treacherous trip up and across the wall, through the fence and into the alley, thence up to the roof, I discovered to my chagrin that the GFI switch on the outlet was frozen -- the thing seemed fried. Luckily the band was roaring downstairs, so my screams went unheard.

Meanwhile, I had a Dub Proof gig in Long Branch, with a load-in in one hour. Back down, through, across, down, into and then out of the lot, and home to Neptune City. Shower, drive to Long Branch, load-in and wait an hour and a half for the opener Just 6 Hours; then set up, turn in a solid 45-minute set.

Dub Proof on the marquis at Funk Fest 2017

Then it was time to load out and head back to Neptune City. Dinner: Mal's yummy broiled chicken and vegetables, to recharge the batteries. Then it's back to the gARTen with Mallory and some extra UV flashlights! Mal jettisons me like a paratrooper and goes to park the car.

Block party is still on. Unlock the gate, head for the back way once more. Up, across, through, and into the alley. I find Mike has passed the beheaded cable through the hole previously drilled by another tenant, as we'd discussed. ZSweet.

I headed up to the roof, hauling up the bulk of the beheaded cable. This I dragged along until I could join the functional end of the Marie Antoinette cord to the relocated 100-footer. Then I climbed down, through, across, down and ran around to the front of Cookman Creamery, which was absolutely packed with customers.

As I stood there I realized I needed some plastic caps to cover the joined ends properly, and at that moment Pat Schiavino appeared, heading into Parlor Gallery's opening. Yes, he had some in his basement, feel free to grab a few says Pat, so I ran down the block and crossed Bond Street, which was awash in hipsters, punkards, drunkards and just plain folks, to Pat's art629 Gallery. They were ALSO having an opening, and I made my way through the art lovers there and down into the basement. I located the caps, ran back to Cookman Creamery, and weaved through their crowd.

Keith waved me in, and I headed for the store room, which was around 95 degrees at that moment, to locate the cable Mike had passed through. Once found I reunited the two sections carefully, if sweatily. I had to find an outlet, there was none available in the store room, but I had dropped enough slack from the roof to reach the next part of the work area.

A splice of life!

All that remained was to return to the gARTen, re-set the timer to adjust for the lost time, and viola! the lights came on. Just in time for Parlor's opening, and visits from around 200 guests. A magical night.