Young and Brave: A True Story of Risk and Survival in 1970s New York City

Deep into the heart of the 1970s, a young girl faced a choice that would test her mettle and change the course of her life. Just a year after her high school graduation, she found herself the victim of an abusive home scenario and chose an escape route across the distance of New York City. This is the journey and the risks she took to survive.

The year was 1977, the year after my high school graduation, and I was only 17. Living in an ‘abusive situation at home, I decided that life alone in New York City was safer for my soul than another day under the thumb of an abusive household. So packing my suitcase and staying true to my resolve, I moved into a small room, equipped with just a bed and a hot plate to cook on, and the only private bathroom in the building. Along with me, were the other male tenants who shared a bathroom. My starting balance was exactly $500, and I was starting from the ground floor, with no job and no fear.

New York City in the late 1970s was a perilous environment for a young girl to navigate on her own. Predators were everywhere, targeting women who appeared fresh-faced, innocent, and vulnerable. Despite the danger, I managed to survive for a short time, but that all changed with a fateful trip to the Port Authority Bus Terminal, a place where the shadows were deep and the dangers lurked.

The terminal, located near Times Square, served as a feeding ground for the pimps who controlled the sex trade on West 42nd Street. During those days, the Port Authority Bus Terminal was not just a transportation hub but also a den of danger for young people who were often lured away by smooth-talking operators promising food, protection, and money. The situation was so dire that a rescue shelter was built right next to it. At that time, the terminal was one of the busiest transportation hubs in the country, but in 1977, it was a den of snakes.

I was waiting in the basement of the terminal, a space of silent anticipation. Suddenly, a man approached and sat down next to me. At first, our conversation was friendly. He inquired which bus I was waiting for and then made casual comments about other people around us. After a few minutes, he leaned in closer and asked if I was interested in being a model or an actress, saying, ‘You have the look’ and suggesting that the producer he worked with could offer me screen tests. My street-smart thinking quickly told me to decline. His reaction to my refusal was swift and ominous; his tone and body language became threatening. He then demanded that I meet him at the Eighth Avenue exit in five minutes.

Fortunately, my bus arrived shortly after, providing me with an escape route. Many young people abducted in this manner were sold into prostitution and held against their will. Attempts to escape often ended in tragedy, with some people even losing their lives. This harrowing experience shook me so profoundly that I spent some time staying with my relatives in New Jersey before returning to New York City.

It is almost as if a line from a poet named Bruce Springsteen could perfectly encapsulate the feeling of what I experienced: ‘It’s midnight in Manhattan, this is no time to get cute, it’s a mad dog’s promenade, so walk tall or better don’t walk at all.’