Good job winning River Road, Komanoff. Now go for the Taconic.
Richard Grossman, organizer, agitator and an intellectual godfather of the movement against corporate sovereignty, put those words on a postcard he sent me in 1989, after hearing that the Palisades Interstate Park Commission was rescinding its ancient rules restricting cycling on Henry Hudson Drive, a spectacular sinuous two-lane road carved from the Jersey Palisades. The advocacy campaign I had led as president of Transportation Alternatives had been a Grossman special, with tactics running the gamut from a bike-in (with the inevitable arrest) to legal briefs, coalition building and behind-the-scenes suasion. Richard’s praise was heartfelt, but he was kidding about the Taconic. Or was he?
The Taconic Parkway is a multi-lane highway that starts in New York’s northern suburbs, ribbons through its exurbs and ends in rolling farmland between Albany and the Berkshires. Making it a bike highway, or even one shared with cars, was sheer fantasy. But Richard, who died last November, was always goading fellow activists to raise the stakes; to begin three new campaigns before the current one was finished; to aim beyond the reasonable. Whether he was kidding or not was for you to decide, and wrestling with it enlarged your sense of the possible.
I was four hours into a ride last Saturday when Richard sprang into to mind. My friend Udo and I had met up in lower Manhattan and biked up the Hudson River Greenway, over the Harlem River and into the Bronx, and through a string of Westchester villages. We were grinding up a punishing climb out of Ossining and past Maryknoll Seminary, when I spotted little Inningwood Road. “Hey,” I told Udo, “There’s a camp down that turnoff. I was there in 1994, at one of Richard Grossman’s ‘Rethinking the Corporation’ weekend meetings.”
It was in dozens of such meetings that Richard honed his thinking and stirred other activists to dig deeper and “contest the authority of corporations to govern,” as he put it. “Corporate sovereignty,” literally, rule by corporations, was what happened when corporations were granted perpetual life and given Constitutional protections while shareholders enjoyed limited liability. If that seems distressingly obvious today, it’s only because Richard was such a catalytic synthesizer that the culture is now permeated with what was originally a far more solitary vision. Over the course of that weekend’s Socratic dialogues nearly twenty years ago I got the idea but didn’t know what to do with it. My most vivid memory is ducking out after dinner and riding over a creek where the polyphony of hundreds of singing frogs stopped me in my tracks.
Past Inningwood we crept up Pinesbridge, past the golf course that in ’94 was a meadow returning to forest, turned left onto tiny Hoag Cross Road, and soon another left on Illington, to what used to be a thrilling downhill until extreme weather and budget cuts turned it into hundred-pothole hell. I blundered into a nasty crater, and Udo kept going while I steadied myself. When I caught up, he was stopped on the overpass above the northbound Taconic. The usual thrum of traffic was absent. Udo gestured to the parkway below, where there were no cars. Not just a lull, but zero traffic. “Post-apocalpytic,” he grinned.
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