WPCNR WHITE PLAINSER. By the News Bard. December 24, 2004: WPCNR's poet in residence has been moved by the events of the week and the holiday season, as a satiric ode to the holiday season, he presents this Homeric epic:

Twas Two Days Before Christmas.

By the News Bard.

It was two days before Christmas.

All through the city, red hoods starved  the hungry meters,

Meaning free parking for desperate drivers on prowl through traffic mess.

Shoppers and flickers gridlocked to City Center hall

To dine at Applebee’s and partake of seafood legal, or

Pasta a la Zanaro, or burg and shake at Brooklyn’s Famous.

While in sleepy Southend, attempting to wake from a long winter’s nap,

A stealthy Blue and White delivered a lone packet

Of secret agenda to summon the Mayor’s trusty council team here.

Delivering its present to the far flung council citywide.

One to Rita, another to Arnie, a copy to Ben and Tom again

A sheath to Larry and notification to Greer.

The Delfino team was scratching their heads trying to make sense of

News of several ordinances mostly routine,

Except for one-- a site plan amendment that meant that Saint Louis

Would soon be here.

Days after mysterious Super Donor had saved Samaritan House’s own.

Media buzzed with the news, Saint Louis is coming to town.

What does he want they cried? More height, more parking, more units, more rights,

The entire West Side, what gifts will he bring to further White Plains renown?

As the sun came down, all knew that Saint Louis was coming on down.

Up the marble steps of ancient city hall he swept lead by his

Coursers, Bruce and Mark and loyal designers

I knew him in an instant from the cut of his clothes.  

The sheen of his silver mane, reflected the shine of moonglow

His suit black as midnight, impeccable style, everybody knows

It must be the Super Developer, echoes through the rotunda rose.

What does he have for the good people of White Plains was the bewildered media call.

Ascending the circular marble stair festooned with evergreen

The charcoal clad purveyor of jobs, monuments and sumptuous apartments and merchants dreams

A tide of tailored entourage surged to the cherry wood sepulcher of the ancient old hall.

The right jolly old Delfino called the gathering of his men together,

Warming up to gift giving about to begin with several votes on public hearings

But no one was hearing. All eyes were on Saint Louis and his black bag

Of presents for the council eagerly awaiting their gifts.

Placing his elegant hands together, bidding the loyal Bruce Berg

Extract visions of sugar plums and sales taxes and assessments

 Saint Louis bestowed upon the rapt glowing council

The gifts of the season:  Two stylish monoliths to the heavens above.

Filled with a cornucopia of condos, duplexes, triplexes, quadruplexes

With a sprawl of hotel connecting the spires of blue hue,

Inside, perhaps a convention center, a swank lounge with a video poker game or two?

With underground parking levels to China and Two, not three

Majestic monoliths to Heaven 400 feet above the city floor.

He flourished a model that brought visions of affordable housing

Right across from Starbucks, with Bar Building mysteriously missing

As the visions danced in Councilpersons’ heads: He said  “Here is all I will do for You”

Overwhelmed by the vision, cameras flashed,

Elegant Reporter Elan kept score with vigilance.

The rare appearance of Saint Louis, the spirit of Christmas future,

Bestowed his presents.

He basked in councilpersons’ daze at the elimination of an election issue long endured:

Saint Louis’ legacy of new housing for multitudes shut out by median homes priced out of sight.

All were dazzled by the Super Developer’s  blue eyes' glow,  except the poor

Ginsburgs who wondered “Where are the gifts for us? What have you conjured?”

Urging the Ginsburgs not to fear, as their counsel Bill pleaded coolly and plain

Saint Louis raised his calm hand, in reassuring clear voice echoing in the rotunda marble

As sure as the white of fresh fallen snow across Renaissance Fountain

He opined, “Go to the Common Council, for they are the fairest in the land,

Ask them for the use of these gifts and join in my plan.”

Then with a nod to the jolly Mayor Joe, pleased with the Christmas visit,

Bidding adieu to the kind and gentle Paul, the Czarina of Zoning Zen, dashing Rick of the BID,

Barrister Ed, and the Statuesque Solicitoress, Commissioner Mike and Assessing Eydie, he gathered his

Dreams and strode into night as councilpersons looked to him with gratitude for what he did.

As visions of new White Plains towers forever rising for decades ahead

Danced in their heads, the council knew for White Plains Christmas had come.

Saying his goodbyes, his coursers sweeping down the rotunda grand staircase,

 Flying to Trotters ahead, the trusty Berg the facilitating Mark,

The Magic of Saint Louis had brought to City Hall the dreams men chase.

They heard Saint Louis call as he lead the way to a

Trotters Aged Steak, and mug of holiday cheer

Under the bright holiday moonlight

“Merry Christmas to White Plains and to all a good night!”