WHERE HAVE ALL THE COWBOYS GONE?

By Sean-Patrick M. Hillman, A Third Generation Born & Bred New Yorker – A Native New Yorker

There is a species that is rarely spoken about in our society today…for fear of offending, potentially scaring, someone. This species represents some of the most experienced, strongest, and most vigilant beings the world has ever known…the Native New Yorker. Make no mistake about it…this species is dangerous and most certainly falls under the “In Case Of An Emergency, Break Glass” mentality that has played out in the likes of “Heartbreak Ridge” and many other Hollywood hits...especially when the antagonist is either a coward or someone who you just want to throw into oncoming traffic. But the question needs to be asked…where have all these cowboys gone? Those Native New Yorkers of the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s that helped the new get acclimated, the jaded get schooled and the political to do what’s right? We are becoming virtually extinct.

I was born in Manhattan in 1976 during a Baby Boom. I was raised on Central Park West, but always found myself anywhere but…meaning if there was an experience to be had, I was there. While, yes, I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I always ventured across the tracks to places that many don’t even know existed; places that were legendary for their time and are anonymous to the Me Generation like Save The Robots, Hell’s Angel’s Clubhouse, Limelight, Palladium, Danceteria, Peggy Sue’s, Nell’s and many more. Much like those who came before me, it was always the other side of the tracks that enticed illicit behavior. Yes, I was THAT guy. After all, at an extremely young adolescent age, I was nicknamed “The Kid” and began working one of the most notorious doors in the world. No, I won’t venture down that memory lane for this column, but you get the point.

In the 70’s through the mid-90’s, teenagers in New York grew up incredibly fast. It didn’t matter where you were born or whether you were “of wealth.” It mattered if you could walk it like you talked it. The dividing line in this town wasn’t necessarily the haves and the have-nots. It was more those who had street smarts and those that did not. Yes, every movie and TV show from that time period was right…art literally did imitate life. And I am proof of it.

Flash-forward a few decades and we have a generation of sniveling, whiny narcissist adults that resemble tanty-throwing children who were just hit with a dodgeball in the face. What happened to that “edge” that New Yorkers were born with…that notion that nothing can kill us. What happened to the street-attitude that allowed everyone to just say “f*ck you” whenever they wanted? The very armor that I and my contemporaries were born with seems to be missing from anyone born after 1977 in “The City That Never Sleeps.” So what happened?

Sadly decades of political correctness, pandering to the 1% and re-prioritizing city politics for the tourist have all but destroyed the culture and fabric that once broke the mold. But, in times of crisis…in times of need, it is those Cowboys…us Native New Yorkers, that are the first to stand up and run into the burning building. I can’t tell you how many times my wife Kylie has gotten mad at me for stopping a shoplifter at Duane Reade, or running into oncoming traffic to stop endless taxis and other cars from going past the intersection so that an ambulance or fire truck could get through more quickly. Let me caveat this a bit…Kylie wasn’t mad that I was helping ambulances and fire trucks get through…she has historically been more upset that I have risked my life running into oncoming traffic. And, lest we forget, during the horrific events of 9/11, we know how many of my fellow Natives perished; and how many in the years following from 9/11-related illness. Many were my friends. And right about now, those friends are standing up there scratching their heads wondering what the hell happened to the Big Apple? Where have all of the cowboys gone? Some of us are still here. Some of us still fight the good fight. Some of us still believe in the old adage, “If you take care of your neighborhood, your neighborhood will take care of you.”

My point is simple…we need this next generation to step up and fill in the gap. We need to get back to basics as a city…we need to remember that this is OUR home and WE have to take care of it…politicians be damned. Folks like Curtis Sliwa have known that their entire lives. The founder of the Guardian Angels is one of, if not THE best example of what a REAL Native New Yorker is willing to do to protect the ones we love, the places we enjoy and the neighborhoods we call home. Native New Yorkers are the last, and best, defense for anything this city will face. We always have been…and always will be. After all, Cowboys ALWAYS stand up to oppression and uncertainty for the betterment of all.

As my Mother’s friend Cindy Adams always says in her New York Post column, “Only in New York, kids, only in New York.”