The Brooklyn Ink

Revelers in the Bushwick Boat. Alessia Pirolo

By Alessia Pirolo

One of the best-kept secrets in Bushwick is a former ferry boat from the Massachusetts island of Martha’s Vineyard. It is anchored on English Kills, a smelly canal in the industrial area on the border with Williamsburg. Where Morgan Avenue meets Stagg Street, hidden by anonymous warehouses, there is an equally anonymous courtyard filled with old walls, parked vans, and, on the left corner, a dying tree. In front of it, a 4-feet wide corridor links the courtyard to English Kills channel. The tiny passage turns left, and brings you to the “Bushwick Boat.”

The former ferry serves as a home for three men in their late 20s – Jonathan Yaney, Bruce Bees, and Jason Menders – who were living down to earth existences on dry land until the boat entered into their lives. Two years ago, Yaney ran a real estate company in Manhattan with his brother, Max. On a web site, www.yachworld.com, he found an old ferry boat on sale. He thought about converting it into offices. And he bought it.

The boat could barely sail, but Yaney pictured in his mind a minimal space, modern furniture, with two elevators. The economy halted his ambitious project. The Yaneys brothers had a fight, and split up: Max kept the real estate company. Jonathan kept the boat.

He decided to live there, and called his two lifetime friends. Bees had just broken a long relationship and lost his job as a consultant. Menders was bored of being a builder in Montana. In the fall of 2008 they moved to the boat. The three men had met 20 years before, when they lived with their families in Gardiner, Montana, in a commune affiliated with the new age movement, Church Universal Triumphant. “I guess we live in a sort of commune even now,” said Bees. “Minus the religious aspect.”

On an ordinary Saturday afternoon this fall, Bees, Yaney and other occasional members of Bushwick boat crew, camped on the deck. A girl, wearing a long hipster skirt, tried to saw a piece of wood. She wanted to put it in the storage room where she had spent the night. Raimondo, a half Mexican, half Italian young man who wore a dandy outfit, with an old style waistcoat and a tie, drank a beer. He asked if someone had seen his hat, mixing English, Spanish and French words. “Now I’m studying Farsi,” he said. A long haired man who wore three rings on his fingers was working on a Mac. He pulled out a business card that read “Desmond Beirne – Program associate at Columbia University Center for Environmental Research and Conservation.” “At the next party I’ll give a lecture on astrobiology,” he said.

Three men were carrying vodka boxes on board. Another installed a DJ mixer in the lower deck. Yaney, who had yellow-tinted-hair and redded eyes, yelled orders. Bees, who had curly blond hair and was taller and bigger than everyone else, explained softly where to put things. By night, they were waiting for someone to install a screen, for a group of performers of a not well-defined show, and for almost a thousand guests.

Since last summer, parties are their new business. When Yaney, Bees, and Menders moved to the boat, which was anchored in a hidden corner of the East River, near the Pulaski Bridge, almost nothing worked. “During the winter we lived quite a rough life.” Bees said. In the morning, they had to fill a generator to prepare their first coffee. Then, their job began. They changed the engines, fixed the hull, furnished the cabin. After a season of hammering, screwing, painting, the boat was in a better shape. But the three friends were not. They were out of money. That is when they came up with the idea of organizing party. “We had a lot of friends in the business of the underground parties,” said Bees. “And everybody wanted to party on the boat.”

The three friends found a creek in Bushwick for an affordable rent, and without neighbors to complain. Last June, they gave their fist party. The invites were sent by e-mail, with the direction to a bar or an art center. From the meeting point, every 15 minutes, vans brought the guests to the hidden boat. On board, every other weekend there was a new themed party, with DJs who played electronic music, or trapeze artists, or documentaries. Drinks and music lasted until the morning. It worked well. The Bushwick Boat has become the new hidden hotspot for Brooklyn partygoers.

On a Saturday this fall, around midnight, at the entrance of the Bushwick Boat, three trumpet-players played a nostalgic song for a couple who wore a casual outfit and looked lost. “I didn’t know there was a theme,” the man complained, observing a girl wearing a plumed hat, and high heels. A flyer in her hand read “Hobo theme party.” People in suspenders and bowlers danced to old rock on the lower deck. On the bridge, a performer twirled above her head an umbrella on fire. On the bow, an accordion band played a French waltz. The dressed up crowd of young professionals, artists, and filmmakers arrived from Brooklyn and Manhattan. Almost everyone had known about the party through friends. The feeling of being part of an underground, exclusive event, cost just $20, plus $5 a drink, cash only. At the moment, it is a much more profitable business than real estate.