In 1992, New York State ruled that women have the right to be topless anywhere a man does, much to the surprise of many New Yorkers that The Observer talked to yesterday. Even some of those braving the sidewalk bare-boobed didn't know they were free to do so until this weekend. Maxine Krasnow had tickets to see a Broadway show but after reading about Go Topless Day in the Metro newspaper she ditched her theater plans—and her shirt. She did admit to us she was "a little worried about people leering at first," but we saw her leading the pack with a sign reading, "Free your breasts. It's your right," by the end of the afternoon.

Moira Johnston, who has received local fame as a topless advocate in the Union Square area the last three months, was the belle of the ball to photogs and male admirers when she arrived on 43rd Street. Ms. Johnston was unfazed, but when we took a break from the hoopla—and bare-boobdom—inside a Starbucks, she spoke freely. "This is not for attention because there's a lot of other ways to get attention." The 29-year-old exotic dancer told us, "There is a real negative side to it, too," she said, referring to the nasty jabs she often hears. "I know what I'm doing isn't accepted but I'm willing to sacrifice that for women's rights."

The Observer heard some of the negative response in Times Square when some 15-year-old girls from Philadelphia muttered words of disgust through their braces. "Eww, gross! I don't understand. If it's legal why do they care?"

On the contrary, Jeff Ohle and his wife laughed as their two young boys covered their eyes. "Doesn't bother me—it's New York! I have enough trouble trying to keep them off the internet," Mr. Ohle said.

More disturbing than some nipples could ever be was the omnipresence of sweaty male oglers. Caitlin Johnston, 25, pointed out the obvious: "There are a ton of men in that park topless. I don't deserve to be mobbed by men just because I'm not wearing a shirt."

We walked to a woman sitting on a fountain that had came to participate in the event but was disappointed. "I thought this was supposed to be a feminist event, but all these men are touching and surrounding them. Ick. It's kind of equally fascinating and disgusting," said Patricia McBride, 34.

Before heading out we tracked down Ms. Johnston (who once again had a flock of fans encircling her) to say our farewells.

"Bye bye," she told us before tilting her head for the next shot. "Feel free to let your breasts out on the way home."

"Yeah, do it!" a skeevy guy in a basketball jersey agreed.

St. Paul between Woodruff and Crooke

After first hearing about On My Block, a neighborhood filmmaking project that encourages New Yorkers to collaborate in writing, filming and editing a short film using only people and places on one city block, we were skeptical. We can hardly get our neighbors to hold a door open for us, much less spend weeks working together on an unpaid project.

Mary Crosse, who is director of On My Block Films and co-conceptualized the project with Ryan O'Hara Theisen, told The Observer about their hybrid of filmmaking and community service. “New York can be so anonymous. When you get to know your neighbors, it can change a lot. It could potentially reduce crime or get people involved in improvement projects,” she said.

The rules are fairly simple: make a short film by using locations, actors, directors and cameramen from the block where you live. Films will be uploaded to Vimeo and will receive votes through “likes.” The top 15 will be shown at a film festival where prizes will be awarded for Best Narrative, Best Documentary and Best in Show.

Mr. Theisen recruited 16 neighbors for a trial film (which won't be eligible for the prizes) on his own Carroll Gardens block, Union Street between Henry and Clinton. “He's a celebrity on his block now,” said Ms. Crosse. “The neighborhood has really changed in a dramatic way, and now other surrounding blocks in Carroll Gardens are trying to compete too.”

To see it ourselves, The Observer sat in on a Prospect Park South block's very first filmmaking meeting on St. Paul Place between Woodruff and Crooke. Miranda Childs, actress, writer and leader of the operation, put together a six-man team with the help of her housemate Kate Gandall, 63. We joined the gang at the three-story townhouse where three out of the six occupants, Ms. Childs, Ms. Gandall and Timothy Mele, 30, were gathered in the living room with their two neighbors, Patrice Miller, 26, and Aura “Ria” Maria Mure, 59. (The sixth member of the team couldn't make the meeting.)

They only lived within three doors of each other, but it still took time for everyone to get situated.

“You live where?”

“Which house is that?”

“How long have you been there?”

“With whom?”

Ms. Miller, who was approached by Ms. Gandall late one evening a few days prior, wasn't surprised that they'd never met before. “I never hang around here and don't know anyone's name on the block. I guess I kind of feel alienated in a way,” Ms. Miller said.

Moved by Ms. Miller's admission, Ms. Childs sympathized with her neighbor. “Well, I didn't even have Tim's phone number until I got this together, and we've been living in the same house together for a year and a half!”

Once everyone shared their stories of obscurity in relation to the block, Ms. Childs jumped right into the discussion, where the group shared talents, interests and ideas for the film. Jobs were assigned, a timeline was formed and the go-ahead was given for Ms. Childs and Mr. Mele to start on a script that would likely center on a dinner party with a sci-fi twist, courtesy of Ms. Mure's fascination with aliens. But the most fortuitous development was the newly developed neighborly bond: Ms. Childs and Ms. Mure made plans to go to Orchard Beach to dance salsa, Ms. Childs and her housemate Mr. Mele will now be sharing tennis rackets and Ms. Miller will now have people on her block to say hi to.

Interested in meeting your neighbors and making your own film? It's not too late. October 31 is the submission deadline. The On My Block Film Festival will take place November 17.

The Observer was waiting on the otherwise peaceful Upper East Side block as approximately 25 people cloaked in colorful masks and capes marched to the front of the consulate after the announcement of a guilty verdict and 2-year prison sentence being dealt to the feminist rock band.  We witnessed the protestors' songs and arrests at the consulate (six in total, a number confirmed by an NYPD spokesperson), their peaceful march down Madison Avenue and their closing rally in Times Square. See it all in the slideshow.

Photo from Twitter user @515LM.

At least three protesters have been arrested this morning at a demonstration at the Russian Consulate in Manhattan, according to an Observer reporter at the scene. Pictures of the arrests, like the one above, quickly appeared on Twitter.  The demonstration was part of a day of protests planned in support of three members of the Russian punk band Pussy Riot, who were found guilty of hooliganism today by a Russian court and sentenced to two years in prison.

At shortly after 10am, NYPD officers issued an order to disperse to 25 demonstrators assembled at 9 East 91st Street, who were warned that they could be arrested for disorderly conduct. Some demonstrators left, but Daphne Carr -- who organized the rally -- objected, stating, "We're not doing anything wrong. It's okay to take up half the sidewalk." Another protester, Marlena Beridze, told The Observer: "My English is poor but I'm not scared a bit. For what? What did I do wrong?"

Another protestor identified herself as Ann Pettibone, 63, an ESL teacher. "I can't believe Pussy Riot was even arrested," she told The Observer. "I saw the photo of the girls in a box and I started Googling more and more about them."

Despite the arrests, those assembled said they would begin their scheduled march to Times Square at 11:15am.

More on this story as it develops.

Update, 12:05 pm:

Masha Gessen with her children. (Photo by Jessi Rucker)

The Observer spoke with prominent Russian American journalist Masha Gessen, who read at last night's solidarity event at the Ace Hotel, as she marched with the protesters on Madison Avenue with her 6-month-old son strapped to her chest and her daughter Yolka, 10, and son Vova, 13, beside her. The kids were unfazed by the scene.

"We've been to many protests in Moscow," said Yolka, who carried a sign reading, "Solidarity with Pussy Riot."

"I brought my clarinet. I was hoping there'd be a lot of people playing music and I could jump in. I'm the choirmaster at my school," said Vova.

We asked Ms. Gessen if she gave pause before bringing her children to the event. "I am not scared at all after seeing protests in Moscow. The last one I took the kids to got very violent, but today should be nothing. I wish more people were here. I don't think this reflects the weight of this protest," Ms. Gessen said.

Update, 12:40 pm:

Ellina Graypel, a protester who played a guitar and sang songs in Russian in front of the consulate, told us she had seen a total of six people arrested. "But even one is too many," she added.

Update, 12:56 pm: 

The protest march has reached Times Square. Protesters chant, "No one should be quiet, free Pussy Riot." There are few cops on foot on the scene, but NYPD vans and cars line the block.

Pussy Riot protest in Times Square. (Photo by Jessi Rucker)

Update, 2:50 pm:

After one final song on the red TKTS steps in Times Square The Observer caught up with Xenia Grubstein, 31, an organizer of the march. Despite the somewhat underwhelming turnout (she blamed the heat), she was proud of the day's actions. “Most of the crowd made it here, so we did fulfill our plan,” she said.

Ms. Grubstein expressed her distaste for the court's decision this morning. “We expected it to be negative," she said. "Two years is not as bad as three years, but these are mothers that are taken away from their children.”

She told us she's still optimistic that in the coming weeks more will jump on board with the fight that today earned her two blisters and slight dehydration.

“I think it's going to go even more global as celebrities and regular citizens become aware of Pussy Riot," she said. "We're not done yet.”

Update, 5:30 pm:

The members of the politically motivated group have been in a pre-trial detention center since March after a guerrilla performance inside the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour in which they were only able to execute a 40 second rendition of their song "Our Lady, Chase Putin Out" before getting escorted out by security guards. The women could be facing a three-year prison sentence for "hooliganism motivated by religious hatred." Pussy Riot adamantly denies any malice to Catholicism; they maintain they were only making an artistic political statement. Over the past month, support for Pussy Riot has poured in from the likes of Madonna, Paul McCartney and the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Peaches has released a tribute song, all proceeds will go to the band's legal fees.

Karen Finley, performance artist and one of the most animated readers of the night gave The Observer her stance on the trial: "There's a history of the church being a place for prayer but also for speaking one's mind. Yes, we're using these larger-than-life statements, but that's part of the art and the expression."

Ms. Finley—no stranger to controversy, as she has often been criticized and indicted for her own art—explained why she felt such a connection to the girls in a Moscow prison cell: "Pussy Riot was influenced so much by Bikini Kill, and Kathleen Hanna [lead singer and front woman for Bikini Kill], tells me I influenced her, so I feel responsible in a certain way."

Ace Hotel's Liberty Hall was donated out to head organizers Robert Lieber and J.D. Samson (a member of Riot Grrrl band Le Tigre) for the evening. Ms. Samson told The Observer that she had started organizing a giant show in Moscow in support of Pussy Riot, but after the trial started moving faster than predicted, she decided to do something here in New York to show her support.  "We were planning to do a show, and then Rob and I were discussing these wonderful statements the women had made in trial, and he said, 'What about these words? Shouldn't they be read somewhere?' And that was that."

"I sent out all these emails—only last Saturday—and all these friends of mine came out to support," Ms. Samson added.

Amongst Ms. Samson's friends was the actress and ultimate hipster Ms. Sevigny, who read a letter that Maria Alyekhina sent from prison.

"I got threatened to get transferred to a disciplinary cell for not making up my bed properly today. Here in pre-trial center, nobody knows what a duvet case is, just like in Europe, but everybody knows you're a criminal and here for a good reason," Ms. Sevigny read, looking ironically innocent in a white dress and a blonde bob.

"I had no idea that they were such intellectuals," Johanna Fateman, member of Le Tigre told The Observer after her reading of the closing statement of Ms. Samutsevich. "They could come off almost like a prank—which is part of it—but they truly are so much more."

Although Ms. Fateman said she wanted to be an optimist, she assumed that the girls would most likely be found guilty. "It's more just a question of how long the sentence will be," she added.

Other readers last night were Justin Vivian Bond, Masha Gessen and poet Eileen Myles, who told The Observer that the poems that she read by Ms. Alyekhina, "really spoke to me."

No matter how the verdict shapes up (it is expected to be delivered this morning), a protest, march and rally are all scheduled in New York. Although there were talks on Pussy Riot's Facebook page of suiting up in the band's trademark neon balaclavas for the protest, Daphne Carr, an organizer of the day's events, warned participants last night that this would be civil disobedience. New York has an obscure "anti-mask law" that prevents three or more people wearing face coverings without a permit, an offense that several Occupy Wall Street protesters were charged with and that could land Pussy Riot supporters in jail. Ms. Carr offered up some alternatives.

"Paint your face to look like a balaclava. Write 'this is my balaclava' on your face. Or take one of these," she said while holding up a sheet of paper with a black and white image of a balaclava.

Catch the crowd wearing those modified balaclavas on Madison Avenue around noon today.

Sleuthing around on what is expected to be the teal colored, T line in 2016.

The MTA didn't want us there, in fact we didn't even ask for their permission, but somehow we found ourselves 60 feet underground and choking on the dust left from a dynamite explosion that took place just minutes prior to our descent. Clad in water resistant boots, safety goggles and a bright green hardhat The Observer was ankle deep in mud at an undisclosed location somewhere along the sight of the 2^nd Avenue subway construction.

What was once Barack Obama's crash pad in his Columbia University days is back on the market for $2,400/ month. Not a bad deal for an Upper West Side two-bedroom but back in 1981 Obama and his roommate paid a monthly grand total of just $360. Oh, the days.

The Citi Habitiats who are brokering the 142 West 109th St. apartment encourage renters on their website to "Be a part of history... Who knows? You might end up in the White House one day."

Is there more to the digs then having the easiest was to get a date to come home with you? ("Wanna come see where the President used to live?")

Zac Kneider of Citi Habitats admits to The Observer, "There is nothing too special about the place besides the fact that Obama used to live here.  It has a bit of charm but it's no different than the typical apartments that thousands of New Yorkers occupy."

Garvin and Boyce.

Every year, in the weeks leading up to Pride Week, Martin Boyce and Danny Garvin's phones start ringing off the hook.

“Martin here. Yup, that was me at Stonewall, June 28, 1969.”

“Yes, this is the Danny who was at the riots.”

And on the 40^th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots, Mr. Boyce, 64, and Mr. Garvin, 63, were bombarded by even more press than usual. “I was like a puppet on a string," Mr. Boyce said. "Anytime somebody bumped into me on the street I'd go right into 'So I was walking towards Stonewall with my friends Birdie and Tommy...'".

While many of the rioters from that night fell victim to drugs or the AIDS crises in the '80s, Mr. Boyce and Mr. Garvin are two of less than twenty confirmed survivors, calling themselves the Stonewall Veterans. They've been immortalized in David Carter's Stonewall: The Riots That Sparked the Gay Revolution, saluted in the PBS documentary Stonewall Uprising and have been invited as guest speakers to participate in discussions on the gay rights movement over the four decades since. And on days like today, when NYC Pride takes to the streets and the riots' anniversary is marked by the Pride Parade, which noncoincidentally ends on Christopher street right next to Stonewall, their contributions to the gay rights movement is brought to the forefront once again.

Mr. Boyce spends nearly every day in Central Park, across from the Bow Bridge, in a shady benched area called the Ramble, where members of the gay community have been known to congregate. In his teenage years, he painted on eyeliner and glittery lipstick in hopes that straight people would take notice of him and his peers.

“In 1966, I was extremely frustrated with the way gays were treated," Mr. Boyce said. "That's why I went into scare drag—not because there was a need to or because there was a woman inside of me. I just thought, like they did in Hollywood, you should emphasize and at least get a reaction from these people."

And Mr. Boyce would do just that. Him and his friends would go to museums, the zoo or wherever they could find large amounts of straight people. They'd dress in scare drag (think Boy George) and try to speak eloquently  in hopes of enlightenment or—if nothing else—to agitate. But the late '60s was not ready for “I'm here and I'm queer” and their outings would often result in ridicule or, worse, violence. He was astonished by how the littlest drop of eyeliner would make people go mad, but by the Post-Stonewall mid '70s he felt he had no reason to shock, the word was out. If he was going to fight now it would be with political action.

Today he wears no make-up. He's handsome, spirited and appears every bit as masculine as anyone else in Central Park, except when he sometimes erupts into a fit of laughter.

Mr. Garvin is well-coifed and small-framed but has a tough, raspy New York accent.  When he sipped his cappuccino, the foam clung to his white handle bar mustache, indiscernible until he smiled and a bead glided off his chin onto the sidewalk of the Inwood Cafe near his apartment.

In 1969, Mr. Garvin was 19 and lived in a gay commune on Bleecker Street, the epicenter of NYC gay life at the time. He recalls a time when he was at Julius (a bar in the West Village which at the time was composed of artists and actors).  The bartender warned him not to sit with his back to the bar because they were afraid if the cops came he would be accused of soliciting and the bar would be closed. Mr. Jarvin would bounce about the neighborhood but Stonewall was never his regular spot.

"A lot of kids from out of town felt liberated from walking into Stonewall but I was scared to death someone from my neighborhood was going to see me." (At the time Mr. Garvin's family was not aware he was gay. It wasn't until he was 25 that he told his family, and it was many years later that they finally accepted it.)

When the riots started on Christopher Street, he was on the street antagonizing, screaming, yelling and trying not to get hit. But, more importantly, he was trying not to get arrested.

"If I would have been taken to jail it would have been on my permanent record. Homosexuality was considered a deviant behavior back then." Since the American Psychiatric Association ruled being gay as a mental illness, Mr. Garvin and his fellow rioters risked not being employed in the future.

When doing an appearance at Barnes and Noble for the release of Stonewall about five years ago, Mr. Gavin and Mr. Boyce became fast friends.  Bonding over Stonewall, mutual friends and a cool disposition of their effect on the gay rights movement, they kept in touch and wax all sorts of nostalgic about the way it was before the riots.

While both Mr. Garvin and Mr. Boyce admit there is some envy of the rights that gays have been afforded today, they also have a great appreciation for their time, when being gay was more of a subculture.

“I liked being part of something. You only knew how to find a gay bar if someone told you about it,” said Mr. Garvin. “We had our own way of talking and meanings of things—our own language.”

Mr. Boyce smiled wide in a childlike grin when remembering his days buzzing around the streets of the Village with his friends.

“It was great. How gays stuck together without an oath," Said Mr. Boyce. “It was a system that had a great deal of success until we realized that this was not success at all, it was just coping—like the way blacks used to sing in the field."

Before the riots, there was no chatter of civil rights, just a deep-seeded desire for a simple basic human right to not be beaten, arrested, harassed. Just to drink, dance and have a right to own their sexuality.

“We didn't want to go to Vietnam to kill, get married, be police officers or firemen,” Mr.Garvin said of the norm. “All we wanted to do was dance.”

The night of the first riots was in response to a police raid that attempted to shut down Stonewall and arrest the patrons inside. As the streets amassed with crowds, there was an explosive and violent release of pent-up frustration towards a government that had repeatedly persecuted sexual minorities. A group that was constantly oppressed, finally stood up.

It wasn't until leaders of gay rights organizations met to organize a march on the anniversary of the riots that Martin Boyce, a participant in the riots on June 28, 1970, knew Stonewall's influence had finally been recognized.

“It began in a question mark, we weren't sure,” Mr. Boyce recalled with regards to the reluctance of those that marched from Christopher street up Sixth Avenue in hopes of reaching Central Park. “We were very nervous about marching all that way but it ended in a giant exclamation point. The park was full of supporters.” The march had only 100 people at first, but ended up amassing almost 2,000 people along the way.

“I knew something had changed—not what we have today, but that was great alone. Just that. That we could march.” said Mr. Boyce.

Mr. Garvin is still trying to wrap his head around some of the giant strides recently made towards complete equality. "I see someone that is twenty now and I didn't have any of the freedoms that they have."  Being married or being "out" and in the service seems foreign to him. The thought of himself ever marrying still seems odd.

Mr. Boyce admited that "a lot of times in your own ignorance, you don't know what you don't have means."  He's had a lover for  37 years and at first he didn't even confront the fact that if he was terminally ill he would be unable to care for him, or have claims to each others things.  But he said back then "you gave that all up for love."

"It seemed to me that to have the rights with love isn't always necessary," Mr. Boyce said, rather whimsically.

While Mr. Garvin and Mr. Boyce admit that they have established a degree of celebrity within the gay community, they both have a sense of humor about what has manifested from Stonewall, at least that not pertaining to civil rights.

“It could be like Carnival in Rio, but with all gay talent. You think with all those gays they could put on a show, unless people do find it a show–I don't.”

Despite the perceived lack of creativity, Mr. Boyce planned to attend the parade today with Mr. Jarvin for a couple hours but they have no intentions to exert too much energy jockeying for position against the crowds that will be gathered at the Christopher Street bar where it all started.

Stonewall has become somewhat a caricature of itself. Ownership of the bar has changed over the years, a portion of the original establishment is now a nail salon and you can now purchase your very own Stonewall Riot t-shirt for just $20. Hokey, yet still paying homage.

“I really only go to Stonewall for interviews,” Mr. Boyce said. “It's like when people go to Paris looking for the Paris they read about in the '30s. It's not there—It's so considered now.”

Underneath the shade of the century-old trees of Central Park, Mr. Boyce rolled a cigarette and talks about the times that were. Even though Stonewall is nothing like Paris—and never was—it was there he and Mr. Garvin made history and there that the LBGT movement was ignited. He was giddy and stewing with excitement, recalling the scene at Stonewall.

"Where is Stonewall?" Mr. Boyce turned towards the middle-aged man whose Southern draw interrupted his memory.

"Simple. You just take the Seventh Avenue train downtown to Christopher Street. It's right there," Mr. Boyce warmly advised, pointing west of the park.

"I'm just visiting, but I'd love to see it," the man said. He then nodded and left, not knowing that a real piece of Stonewall was right in front of him.

jrucker@observer.com

An unidentified person made the distress call via radio transmission— at the (coincidentally) stoner-loving time of 4:20pm. The caller claimed a boat named the Blind Date had exploded  and then sunk 17 nautical miles off the coast of central New Jersey. It was reported that all 21 passengers had made it onto life rafts but many were suffering injuries from the incident.

"We got to the reported location within the hour but by 6:30 we looked into the possibility of it being a hoax call," Captain Gregory P. Hitchen of the Coast Guard, said in a press conference at 10am this morning. "With the weather conditions last night, if there was an explosion like the one reported it would have been easy to spot debris, bright orange life rafts or an oil slick from one of our helicopters."

After determining the call was most likely a scam, the Coast Guard offered a $3,000 reward for anyone with information about the person responsible for the false reports. If prosecuted, this federal offense could cost the prankster fines up to $250,000 or 10 years in prison.

"There are many motives for one to do such a thing," Captain Hitchens explained. "For a variety of reasons, people like the attention they get from watching the boats and helicopters go out and search. It's very strange."

June 14 2011, almost exactly a year ago, an unidentified caller reported a sinking 33-foot sailboat with four passengers taking on water in the same Sandy Hook bay. Like yesterday's effort, the search was extensive but fruitless and later ruled as a hoax. The Coast Guard is currently looking into the possibility of a connection between the two incidents. While last years call was at 3:20 and not 4:20, the internet is still abuzz with the possible non-coincidence of yesterdays prankster making his report at a universally adopted "burn time" for marijuana users.

Isn't the general mainstream consensus that stoners are relaxed and unmotivated? Whatever happened to listening to The Dark Side of The Moon while tripping off of the technicolor visuals of The Wizard of Oz and wolfing down Taco Bell in your parents basement?

Pepsi, Coca Cola, as well as Dr. Pepper Snapple Co. formed an advocacy group with the American Beverage Association, which has spent nearly $70 million on lobbying and advertising since 2009, since over 30 states have been implementing a new soda tax, slightly damaging their revenue. On the other hand, the city's current ad campaign “Pouring on the Pounds” was funded with a $100,000 federal grant. While the campaigns budgets are imbalanced the city does gain invaluable support with the recognition of diabetes and obesity as national epidemics.

Despite awareness of the dangers of sugary drinks, carbonated beverages are still the most popular beverage in the US, almost three times as popular as bottled water, coffee or milk, according to the ABA. Just like Britney and Christina, who have had their own battles with public perception and been scrutinzed in the media for weight gain, these drinks seem like an American mainstay, whether it's for better or worse.