The balconies on Wallabout Street are for religion, not pleasure.

Strolling down Bedford Avenue, you’re greeted by a solid wall of new six-story brick buildings.

The apartments are spacious and cheap by New York standards. For half a million dollars, you can buy a three-bedroom condo in a new elevator building. The tan brick buildings won’t win any design awards, with their looming, protruding window cages and diagonally cascading balconies built solely for constructing booths during Sukkot. But the apartments are big enough to raise a kid or seven.

Cross Broadway north into the trendier section of Williamsburg, though, and half a million will barely buy you a studio. The new construction appears formidable, but it pales in comparison with the torrent of demand streaming into the neighborhood.

Sexy new towers have cropped up on the waterfront, but the trendy inland neighborhoods of northern Brooklyn—Bed-Stuy, Bushwick and inland Williamsburg and Greenpoint—are for the most part capped at three or four stories, and all but the smallest buildings must include parking. As a result of the disconnect between supply and demand, prices have risen dramatically, almost tripling in Williamsburg since 2004.

How the ultra-Orthodox have succeeded in building thousands of units and keeping the neighborhood affordable for families—on private land, and without public money—is a testament to their strongly pro-development attitudes and a bloc voting strategy reminiscent of the ethnic politics patterns of the Tammany Hall era. In a city slow to accommodate new development, they have managed to keep on building in a way that the city’s storied real estate interests can only dream of.

Satmar, as the Hasidic dynasty founded by Joel Teitelbaum is known, have been pushing up against the bounds of their South Williamsburg heartland since the 1970s. Borough Park and suburban enclaves upstate helped relieve some the pressure on the Teitelbaums’ notoriously fecund followers, but the community was spilling out of its tenements, with children sleeping in bathtubs in extreme cases.

In a city slow to accomodate new development, the Satmars have managed to keep building.

So during the 1990s, private Hasidic developers, seeking to house their multiplying masses, began asking for—and receiving—variances to build apartment buildings, without subsidies, on land around the edges of South Williamsburg that was otherwise zoned exclusively for industrial and commercial use.

At the time, the city was freely granting these one-off exemptions, but was not willing to rezone entirely, said Sheldon Lobel, a land use attorney whose name shows up on many of the applications. “But about 10 years ago,” Mr. Lobel told The Observer, “getting variances became more difficult.”

So it was in the late 1990s that the current building boom kicked into high gear. Hasidic leaders lobbied for—and won—the right to build housing on industrial land around South Williamsburg, including a large swath in northern Bed-Stuy, around Bedford and Flushing Avenues, in 2001. No longer did the Hasids need to beg the Board of Standards and Appeals for permission on each individual project—new six- and seven-story residential buildings were now allowed as a matter of right.

A solid wall of buildings rose in northern Bed-Stuy, in an area some in the community now call “New Williamsburg.” The development was not the piecemeal building that takes place in the rest of the borough, but an entirely new neighborhood, anchored by beige apartment blocks, embellished with faux classical touches and served by new synagogues, schools, grocery stores and shops.

And it didn’t stop there. In the early 2000s, outgrowing their new territory in northern Bed-Stuy, the Hasidic community began to apply pressure to the Bloomberg administration to rezone the Broadway Triangle, an industrial enclave wedged between Bed-Stuy and South and East Williamsburg. It took the better part of the decade, but the Satmar eventually got their wish: the right to strike out to the east.

Rabbi David Niederman looks out of the window of the Schaefer Building.

The rezoning had both a public and private component, and it’s the public portion of the project—an affordable housing complex that was to be built in part by the United Jewish Organizations of Williamsburg, the secular wing of the largest Satmar faction—that attracted the most controversy. Black and Latino leaders claimed that the affordable housing complex—to be built on city-owned land, some of which would be seized by eminent domain—would give a disproportionate number of units to the ultra-Orthodox, as traditional public housing projects nearby had in the past.

A judge halted the mixed-income housing development in 2009, but resentments linger. While nothing has happened on the city-owned land, the stay on private development has been lifted, and Hasidic developers are closing in fast.

“This is why it’s such a cruel irony what’s happened now,” said Councilman Stephen Levin, who represents a district snaking from Park Slope to Greenpoint. “The market-rate housing is getting built, but the affordable housing is not. It’s the inverse of the public policy goal.”

Rabbi David Niederman, leader of the United Jewish Organizations, begged to differ, saying that both the public and private aspect of the rezoning are needed. “We believe in supply and demand,” he said. “Imagine if 200 people are fighting for one unit”—something that New Yorkers outside of Hasidic Williamsburg won’t have to try very hard to do. “Prices are going to go up like crazy.”

While Mr. Levin said that the rezoning of private land was an “afterthought,” it’s hard to miss his strong electoral incentive to allow the ultra-Orthodox to multiply within the bounds of his district.

Two-thirds of Steve Levin's votes in 2009 came from South Williamsburg, home of the Satmar Hasidic dynasty.

Nobody, after all, delivers votes in low-turnout local elections like the Satmar rebbes. In 2009, for example, two-thirds of Steve Levin’s votes came from South Williamsburg, far out of proportion to its population.

And in 2013, he won’t have to take any chances: the recent Council redistricting will give Mr. Levin a few dozen newly Hasidic blocks in northern Bed-Stuy and 5,000 new Hasidic voters—voters who wouldn’t have existed without the variances and the Bedford-Flushing rezoning of 2001. Private development around the Broadway Triangle is sure to have a similar effect on Mr. Levin’s electoral bottom line.

But political considerations aside, there are also reasons to believe that growth is, as the Hasidim claim, necessary to keep prices in check. In spite of the popular impression of New York as a builder-friendly city that’s constantly exceeding the bounds of rational development, the city’s growth over the past half-century has been anemic, and has not kept pace with the natural growth in population.

The number of housing units in New York City, for example, grew by only 170,000 from 2000 to 2010, or around 5.3 percent—nowhere near enough to keep pace with America’s population growth of 9.7 percent over the same period. Never mind New York City’s rising profile, which would lure a lot more people—if only they could afford it.

Mr. Levin said the Hasidic community’s large families mean “they have a greater housing need than the hipster community,” but tell that to buyers of newly built condos in goyish Williamsburg, where the median price per square foot is almost double the $400 upper limit of new Hasidic developments.

Some—but not all—of that is accounted for by the cheaper finishes the Hasidim use. And, as Rabbi Niederman emphasized, Hasidic developers are bound by community standards, and are not looking to just “make a buck.” (Of course, community standards don’t always apply to those outside of the community—accusations of landlords using aggressive tactics to drive out their black and Latino tenants in areas of Hasidic growth are common.)

It’s hard not to look at those impossibly affordable three bedrooms and wonder what might happen elsewhere in Brooklyn if the valve were open a bit more. But despite the need, there’s no stomach in the secular world for allowing upzoning past the first two L stops in Brooklyn. “You’re ruining the neighborhood”—to quote the creator of the anti-Williamsburg gentrification film Gut Renovation—is still the prevailing sentiment among the nonbelievers. And as long as the trendier Williamsburg elements feel this way, the Satmar section of Williamsburg will likely remain a lonely redoubt of affordability in a seething sea of gentrification.

Fireworks on the Hudson (YouTube)

For those of us living in the outer boroughs, navigating Manhattan during the holidays can serve as a great reminder as to why we migrated off the island in the first place.  New Years Eve, St. Patrick's Day, Halloween, Thanksgiving...the term "amateur hour" was practically invented to describe the hoards of revelers who descend upon NYC like a plague of locusts to "celebrate" these annual events by getting as drunk as humanly possible and clogging up the sidewalks and public transit systems.

Now, most of the time, this does not pose too much of a problem for Brooklynites and Queens residents, who would just as soon stay in their district anyway, throwing  Skrillex-themed rooftop parties.

But the 4th of July poses an issue for non-Gotham-dwellers: since 2009, the incredible light show thrown by Macy's has been held on the Hudson River, making it almost impossible to view from the top of a Brooklyn Heights townhouse.

In late June,  the discontent of outer-borough residents were voiced  in a public press conference, where Public Advocate Bill de Blasio (D-Brooklyn) and Senator Daniel Squadron (D-Brooklyn Heights) railed against the dearth of explosives on the East River; a supposedly "one-year hiatus on the Hudson (that) has now become the new norm." From 1976 to 2008, the East River held the event, and it was originally  moved to the Hudson to commemorate the 400th anniversary of Henry Hudson in 2009. But the fireworks were never moved back to their original location.

Councilman Stephen Levin and Brooklyn Borough President Marty Markowitz also stood behind the decision to bring back the sparklers, standing behind a petition  that has amassed 3,100 names so far.

Message received: Macy's has agreed to a sit down with the Brooklyn  politicos to  discuss potential solutions, according to The New York Daily News.

The department store is being tight-lipped on the subject, with a spokesperson only saying, "Macy’s fireworks will take place in and around all accessible New York City waterways and will not be a permanent fixture at any one location."

Hey, we're not unreasonable people: If New Jersey residents are unhappy to lose the view of the fireworks on the Hudson, we'd be more than happy to outsource the whole Thanksgiving Day parade to Newark.

“All of Brooklyn’s thoughts and prayers are with Hope’s parents, Judge Gustin Reichbach and Ellen Meyers, her friends, and of course, my condolences to Councilman Levin and his staff. Here at Borough Hall we had the good fortune of working with Hope, who was a committed and passionate public servant. She truly will be missed.”

One reader emailed me and said, "I don't think I've ever been so freaked about the death of someone I knew so casually" describing Reichbach as "smart, vivacious, full of life."

Update: Rep. Nydia Velazquez:

“Today Brooklyn lost not only a rising star but a dedicated civic servant. A natural for public service, Hope Reichbach was a young woman with many dreams and so much promise. My thoughts are with her parents Ellen and Gus and with all those whose lives she touched.”

"When we mailed out the notice and we reached out to a lot of people, there was almost no response," Vito Lopez, chairman of the state Assembly's housing committee, said. "So it's quite interesting."

At issue was whether 421-a, which gives tax breaks to developers who build affordable housing and which expires at the end of this year, was worth renewing. Mr. Lopez, his Assembly colleague Rory Lancman and the five witnesses who testified all spoke in support of the tax credit program. Tempers flared, though, over the details of 421-a and the circumstances under which it should apply. Mr. Lopez strongly criticized Brooklyn's "gold coast" and pushed for the required percentage of affordable housing in new buildings to be increased to 30 percent.

"There are units for people making a hundred or more," he said in an opening statement. "There are almost no units for people making thirty, forty and fifty thousand."

Rafael Cestero, commissioner for the city Department of Housing Preservation and Development, expressed his support of 421-a and proposed a series of minor amendments, such as a clarified definition for commencement of construction and a more streamlined application process.

In response, Mr. Lopez proposed still further amendments, such as increasing the required percentage of affordable units in a building from 20 to 30 percent. He admitted that the higher figure would "have a lot of developers committing hara-kiri."

Mr. Cestero sympathized with the spirit of Mr. Lopez's proposal but remained evasive, saying, "We don't have to build that housing under every program." He said 421-a is "just one tool in the toolbox to create affordable housing."

Ever skeptical of for-profit developers, Mr. Lopez cautioned against the way developers have used 421-a in a way contrary to his own affordable housing ideals. He ranted against what he saw as "the consequences of, say, 421-a and a policy of a massive displacement in gentrification," bemoaning what he called the new "gold coast" of Williamsburg. He expressed horror, later in the hearing, at the fact that some developers have actually appropriated his term "gold coast" in their branding. "These are all wealthy people. They're not the indigenous people," he said. "Some people will clap and applaud that, but someone has to give support to the person that makes only $20,000."

Stephen Levin, council member of Brooklyn's 33^rd district, who testified next, echoed Mr. Lopez's ideals, saying, "We do not need any more luxury housing built without paying property taxes."

Mr. Lopez agreed. "I can't live in most of my district," he said. He then playfully accused Mr. Levin of perpetuating the pernicious gentrification. "You almost caused it when you came to the district. You lived in one of these apartments with four friends," Mr. Lopez said. "I don't know what we can do about that."

To make his position clear, Mr. Levin said the "exclusion zone," or the area in which 421-a applies, should be expanded to the entire city, a move that would eliminate tax breaks for buildings that don't include affordable housing.

The big storm came after the testimony of Michael Slattery, senior vice president of the Real Estate Board of New York. Mr. Slattery said that an additional cut to developers' tax burdens, from 30 to 12 percent, was the only way to get them to build more affordable housing. "We're just looking for a shared burden to keep these units affordable," he said.

But Mr. Lopez didn't like Mr. Slattery's attitude. He thought Mr. Slattery's desire to further cut the taxes was unrealistic, and he accused REBNY of being too focused on profit. "Become a little bit more humanitarian," he said. "You're asking some tough stuff here."

When Mr. Slattery addressed the now-defunct negotiable certificate program, which allowed affordable housing developers to sell tax rebates to market-rate developers, Mr. Lopez exploded. "I try to have a working relationship with you," he said. "Give me some respect. That was driven solely by exorbitant profit margins. It was outrageous. Totally outrageous."

He got particularly inflamed over Williamsburg's New Domino development: "Everything is more money. Greater profit margin. Is that what government is supposed to do? Guarantee greater profit margin? Segregate people? Racially divide people? I mean, this is what you're talking about."

The chairman later apologized for his outburst, saying it was motivated by passion.

After two more witnesses testified, the hearing had raised provocative questions without hammering out many solutions.

"I don't have all the answers," Mr. Lopez said. "But I plan, God willing, to have a hearing in every borough in the next six months to talk about the creation of a 70-30 program and a moratorium on every other kind of development—and ask the city and state not to support anything but that. Now, you may say I'm going nuts. But we don't need any more luxury development."

walden@observer.com

On Wednesday afternoon, the City Council approved the planned Williamsburg waterfront development, a make-or-break vote that came after a scramble of last-minute lobbying and a boost of the affordable-housing levels.

Two weeks ago, the project looked poised for a rare defeat, given that the developer had failed to woo the local councilman, Steve Levin, and the project had drawn fire from leaders of a politically influential faction of Satmar Hasidic Jews in Williamsburg.

In the end, the developer, Isack Rosenberg, committed to set aside 30 percent of the apartments as below market rate, an unusually high number for a project that has not been earmarked for any discretionary subsidies to do so. Mr. Levin voted for the project on Wednesday.

Mr. Rosenberg has owned the site—the home of Certified Lumber—for three decades, and presumably has more wiggle room on the finances than the typical developer that bought land within the past few years.

A spokesman for Mr. Rosenberg, Loren Riegelhaupt, called the vote "a victory for smart development and the thoughtful leaders who came together to help ensure the vitality and continued growth of our city and borough."

ebrown@observer.com

Earlier this week, all signs were pointing to a very rare defeat at the hands of the City Council for the 800-apartment, $410 million development planned for the site of Certified Lumber. The developer, Isack Rosenberg, had met resistance from the community over his plans, both from neighboring residents and from the dominant faction of the Satmar sect of Hasidic Jews in Williamsburg, with critics mostly calling for more affordable housing within the project . (More on the project and the Satmar split in a feature story I wrote last week.)

The councilman for the area, Steve Levin, showed little love for the project, so much so that the developers' attorney appeared resigned to Mr. Levin's opposition. 

Multiple people involved with or familiar with the project had expected that it would be voted down Thursday at a scheduled vote by the land-use committee. But it seems things have changed, and now a vote has been pushed until at least Tuesday, as both the Council and the developer's representatives negotiate.

The project's new life came as Mr. Rosenberg started to scramble with defeat looming. In recent weeks, he brought on a slew of new consultants, a step unusual this late in the lengthy land-use approval process. These new consultants included two for public relations: Connelly & McLaughlin and Knickerbocker SKD, a political consulting firm used by Council Speaker Christine Quinn. He also brought on lobbyist Carl Andrews, a former state senator from Brooklyn.

And this week the developer unveiled multiple new offers to boost the amount of below-market-rate housing in the complex, first offering to set aside 25 percent of the units as below market rate, then boosting that to 28 percent in a public hearing on the issue on Wednesday. In private, the developer's representatives began discussing boosting it again to 30 percent, according to multiple people familiar with talks. The developer has also proposed adding more four-bedroom units that are affordable, an issue for the Hasidic population given the traditionally large family sizes.

Although the vote is now scheduled for Tuesday, land-use issues are often pushed to the last possible day, which would seem to be Wednesday, just before the meeting of the full Council.

Mr. Levin declined to comment, as did a representative for Mr. Rosenberg.

ebrown@observer.com

Two weeks ago, The New York Times issued a brief 75-word endorsement in the seven-person primary to replace David Yassky in Brooklyn’s 33^rd council district.

The pick was Jo Anne Simon, a civil rights attorney and longtime Boerum Hill community activist. “Jo Anne Simon has an impressive legal background and has been a strong community organizer who has done important work for the disabled. We endorse Ms. Simon,” the Times wrote.

Simon’s camp had been eyeing the endorsement for months, and, predictably, they began trumpeting the announcement right away. Less predictably, perhaps, so did two of her opponents.

In a television ad that came out last week, former Yassky aide Evan Thies, who is also vying for the seat, includes his own quotes from the Times.

Over a montage of Thies at work, a woman’s soothing voice tells us that the Times declared Evan an “excellent” candidate and said he was “active on reform and clean-air issues.” In fact, the Times said: “There are several excellent candidates vying to replace Councilman David Yassky, who’s also running for comptroller.” And later: “Evan Thies, an aide to Mr. Yassky, has been active on reform and clean-air issues.”

But it’s a third candidate, Steve Levin, who takes the cake for selective editing. In a recent mailer, Levin cribs the phrase “a prime candidate,” and puts it alongside his other endorsements. The Times actually said: “Stephen Levin would be a prime candidate except for his entanglement in the Brooklyn Democratic Party machine.” Levin is the chief of staff to Assemblyman Vito Lopez, who chairs the Brooklyn Democratic Party.

Here it is, in order, in its entirety:

There are several excellent candidates vying to replace Councilman David Yassky, who’s also running for comptroller. Stephen Levin would be a prime candidate except for his entanglement in the Brooklyn Democratic Party machine. Evan Thies, an aide to Mr. Yassky, has been active on reform and clean-air issues. Jo Anne Simon has an impressive legal background and has been a strong community organizer who has done important work for the disabled. We endorse Ms. Simon.

Senator Charles Schumer waded into one of the more closely contested City Council races this morning, endorsing Stephen Levin in the 33rd District to replace the incumbent David Yassky.

On the steps of Brooklyn’s Borough Hall, Schumer praised Levin for his work promoting affordable housing in Bushwick, where Levin has served as the chief of staff to Assembly Housing Chair Vito Lopez.

“I think he’ll follow in the footsteps of David Yassky,” said Schumer, who also lives in the district.  Yassky, who is running for city comptroller, has declined to endorse anyone in the race; his former chief of staff, Evan Thies, is running against Levin.
Schumer said he has worked closely with Lopez, who also chairs the Brooklyn Democratic Party, and with Levin’s first cousins, Representative Sandy Levin and Senator Carl Levin, both of Michigan.

“If Steve can be one-tenth of the public servant Carl Levin was, that would be better than almost anyone else,” Schumer said.
Most of the questions concerned Schumer’s work in the Senate, but after the event, Levin said the endorsement was especially meaningful since Schumer lives in the district.

“He’s a U.S. senator and he’s thinking about Supreme Court justices and passing health care, and Guantanamo, but he certainly doesn’t forget that there’s a traffic problem on Fifth Avenue,” Levin said.

Levin explained that the two met for lunch at an Italian restaurant in Brooklyn a few months ago and hit it off, talking about borough politics and pizza.

Schumer’s endorsement adds to a growing list for Levin that already includes the Working Families Party, the League of Conservation Voters, the United Federation of Teachers, and Representative Carolyn Maloney.
The two camps weren’t entirely in sync. Levin’s campaign had initially told reporters the event would take place at 11:30 a.m., while Sen. Schumer’s staff said 11 a.m. (Not surprisingly, it happened on the senator’s schedule, which left some tardy reporters and photographers grumbling. Levin said he himself hadn’t known the correct time until about an hour before the event, and that he had alerted the media as soon as he could.)

After the event, Schumer posed for photos with Levin’s parents and some extended family, in town from Minnesota. Schumer said he attended high school with Norm Coleman and declared the Vikings his fourth-favorite NFL team.

“I hear there are even some Levins in Minnesota,” Schumer said. “Send more of them to New York!”

Doug Biviano, a building superintendent and first-time office-seeker who had been cordial in previous debates, repeatedly attacked fellow candidates Evan Thies, Jo Anne Simon, and Steven Levin as agents of the Democratic "machine," who were collectively to blame for the unfulfilled promises of a major 2005 rezoning in Greenpoint and Williamsburg rezoning. Thies is a former aide to the incumbent Councilman David Yassky; Simon was a Democratic district leader; and Levin, who did not attend the forum, is an aide to the Brooklyn Democratic party chair, Assemblyman Vito Lopez.

“They never stood up, they cowered away, and you’re seeing Steve Levin right now being a backroom coward,” Biviano said. (Levin, who also missed three prior debates as a result of scheduling conflicts, had notified organizers last week that he would be in Kingston attending a meeting of labor and party leaders, and said later that he planned to attend the remaining debates before the September 15th primary.) 

“Are you going to stand up for 8 to 12 more years of the Yassky-Levin-Simon machine?” Biviano asked the crowd.

Biviano, who currently trails the other candidates in fund-raising, later said “the same three people were in the back room designing this development.”

“I’d like to know what three people were in the back room designing what you’re discussing,” responded Simon, a civil rights attorney who, along with Thies, has frequently criticized Lopez and the county organization. “The county leader has a hand-picked candidate in this race,” she said, referring to Levin. “I rest my case.”

Biviano called Thies the “architect” of the rezoning and questioned his resignation from Community Board One prior to a vote on the Broadway Triangle, a development project favored by Lopez.

Thies, in turn, reiterated his opposition to the Broadway Triangle plan, and defended those in attendance who had worked on the 2005 rezoning.

“[They] spent years of their life getting a historic agreement out of the city -- a record-setting agreement for 3,300 units of affordable housing and 30 acres of parkland, and it’s disgraceful that you would say that,” Thies told Biviano.

Much of the debate focused on what to do about the area’s stalled construction amid new reports of drug use among squatters in the neighborhood’s many vacant buildings.

“It’s developers who should be paying for security.  If they’re not willing to do it, the city should do it and bill them,” said candidate Ken Baer.

Fellow candidate Ken Diamondstone called for the city to buy buildings on the verge of foreclosure and provide them as affordable housing in a lottery available to teachers, firemen and artists. Thies agreed that HPD should take possession of the buildings. Biviano suggested the city acquire them by eminent domain.

Another candidate, Isaac Abraham, proposed that Congress jumpstart the projects with stimulus dollars. “I would advise the federal government, they bailed out AIG, let them find the money for these construction people," Abraham said. "The jobs, the housing, will be there.”

The candidates also grappled with the effects of the developments that have been completed, especially the overcrowding on the nearby L train. Abraham suggested a $2 ferry that would leave from North 7th Street.

Much of the criticism fell on the MTA. “People need to understand MTA was created to evade accountability,” Simon said of the transit agency.

Thies suggested the city take over the agency, perhaps even trading its control over airports to the state in exchange for control over the subway system.

On a recent Friday night in the backyard of Pete’s Candy Store, a neighborhood bar in Williamsburg, City Council candidate Evan Thies ate hamburgers and hot dogs with some supporters from the 33^rd District’s ubiquitous kickball league. After a few beers, the crowd of 20- and 30-somethings was hushed, and Thies—looking slightly out of place in black slacks, with a white shirt and an emerald tie—stepped forward to speak.

“I’m running against a machine,” Thies told the audience.

President Obama had brought change to Washington, he said, but “Brooklyn is still a political backwater.”

“There are powerful forces at work,” Thies continued, “and even though we have a very good chance of winning, we’re going to have to work harder than any other campaign to get it.”

Thies, 29, has given much the same speech many times over the last few months—invoking Obama and decrying the “powerful forces”—in meeting places and candidate forums across the district. Thies does not mention these forces by name, but the 33^rd District will be a test of the strength of the Brooklyn Democratic Party and its chair, Assemblyman Vito Lopez, whose former chief of staff, Stephen Levin, is running against Thies.

In a seven-person field crowded with self-proclaimed reformers who see easy capital in criticizing Lopez, Thies seems to be positioning himself as the most outspoken critic of the assemblyman. At a candidate forum in June about a local development project favored by Lopez, Thies said the process was “one of the worst shams” he had ever seen, that it had been “compromised to the point of corruption,” and that it might even warrant an investigation.

Thies also has an unusually personal reason to rail against the “backroom deals” of Brooklyn politics. In a predictable political world, Thies would be running with the endorsement of the incumbent councilman in the district, David Yassky. Thies worked under Yassky for five years, and served as his chief of staff until 2007.

But Yassky, who is running for comptroller, has declined to endorse his former aide. This may or may not have to do with the facts that Lopez’s chief of staff, Stephen Levin, is running against Thies, and that Lopez recently endorsed Yassky in the race for city comptroller.

In June, Thies collected the endorsement of the New Kings Democrats, a newish club that recently attempted to win seats on the county party committee.

Without the party’s support and without the public blessing of his former boss, Thies is counting on insurgents like New Kings, and would-be reformers like those who joined him in the backyard of Pete’s.

“I don’t think it’s an immovable force we’re up against—I think people give it too much credit,” Thies told me later. “I think what we have in this city are a lot of paper tigers who are posing as powerful dealmakers who basically get what they want by threatening force they don’t have.”

When Thies finished his brief speech to the Pete’s patrons, his mother, Kathleen Thies, who had come down from New Hampshire to help him collect petition signatures, stood up from her table. “I’d just like to say that was my son and he means what he says. He was raised to do the right thing and that’s really the way he feels.”

Back in New Hampshire, in the Thies household, there is a picture of young Evan—in something like a blue blazer, red tie, khakis and dock shoes—standing with his grandmother, shaking the hand of then-governor Judd Gregg.

At the tender age of about 12, Thies took his meeting with the governor very seriously, and it would not be long before he succeeded in passing his first piece of legislation—a bill to raise awareness about children with chronic illnesses, for which he was both the driving force and a precocious poster child.

When he was 6, Evan had broken his foot, and an egg-like cyst had formed on the top of it. Neither of his parents—a doctor and a nurse, respectively—could figure out why. Eventually, an oncologist diagnosed Thies with fibromatosis, a chronic disease that produces a succession of benign tumors.

He underwent surgery after surgery, suffered through a number of chemotherapy treatments, and even took gout medication—but always, there were more tumors. When Thies missed school, which was often, he would spend time with his grandparents, receiving an education at the capitol in Concord.

Evan’s grandmother, Mary Mongan, served as secretary of Health and Human Services under both Judd Gregg and his predecessor, John Sununu, and Kathleen Thies insisted her mother could have easily won a Congressional seat—had she ever resolved to upstage Evan’s grandfather, a two-term mayor of Manchester.

Thies said his first memory of politics was when his grandmother advocated for AIDS prevention, in the days before the disease became a national issue. It was an unpopular position, one that engendered controversy in the fiercely libertarian state, and the state’s Republican governors offered no quarter from the personal attacks and the editorials calling for her resignation.

At one point, Ms. Mongan was hospitalized with stress-related heart problems, but she persevered, the bill passed, and, according to Thies, transmission rates began to decrease.

So when Thies decided he wanted to fight back against chronic illness in the legislature, he recruited his grandmother.

“My mother basically pulled him aside and said, ‘Come with me,’ and she basically showed him how to work a room,” said Evan’s mother.

“My grandmother could convince people to back an extremely controversial program because they could look at her and she would say, ‘This is important, you have to be with me on this,’ and they would believe it because she did,” Thies said.

“The thing that stuck with me was seeing how important the person who’s delivering the message is,” Thies said, “and the power of persuasion.”

Thies still walks with a slight limp, in evidence as he maneuvered around the corner of Bedford Avenue and North Seventh Street in Williamsburg last month, trying to persuade hurried passersby that he should be their messenger.

“Nice shirt,” said one fashionable passerby, who noticed Thies was looking identical to the photo on his pamphlet.

“It’s the same exact shirt,” Thies said. “I’m pretty boring, style-wise.”

Thies sees a particular opportunity for his political style in Williamsburg, where he lives, and in Greenpoint, where he has his campaign office in a converted bar on the first floor of a Polish political club. Thies believes young voters in north Brooklyn, mobilized by Obama in November, could turn out in record numbers for a local election.

“Williamsburg sometimes gets a bad rap for being a disaffected neighborhood. It’s not at all. It’s one of the most active neighborhoods there is, and it could be a tremendous resource to get things done across the city,” Thies said.

But Thies’ efforts here might be complicated by his work for Yassky. In the fall, Yassky angered many in the district when he voted to support the extension of term limits after first saying he would not support the mayor’s request. Yassky's vote led to speculation that he might abandon his comptroller run and re-enter the Council race. Thies pledged not to run against his former boss, leaving him to wait and see what Yassky would do.

In north Brooklyn, Thies is often forced to talk about one sore spot in particular: the 2005 Greenpoint-Williamsburg rezoning, which opened the waterfront to towering glass condos in exchange for the promise of affordable housing and more open space.

At a debate hosted by the New Kings Democrats, Thies addressed the rezoning, for which Yassky provided the crucial home-district support. Thies said he was “at the final table” when the rezoning was being decided, but called it “an utter failure” in several respects. “We were sold a bill of goods by the administration,” he said, in reference to the affordable housing and park space that has yet to materialize.

Thies has tried to capitalize on the simmering resentment by proposing new regulations on city planning and new penalties for the city’s unmet promises—tailoring the situation to his own message of reform.

But Thies’ campaign Web site does not mention Yassky by name, saying instead that he served as an adviser to “the current Council Member,” and at two recent debates—in Williamsburg and Greenpoint—Thies used similarly impersonal wording. Asked about the conspicuous absence of his former boss’s name, Thies pointed out that it does appear in the pamphlet he is handing out.

“Look, I worked for him. I’m proud of the work we did. There’s no way I’m not going to talk about that. Although we disagree on some things, I think he’s overall been very good for the district,” Thies said.

Thies insisted he has encountered very little criticism for his work with Yassky, and said that he is not waiting for his old boss’s endorsement.

“I understand his position as a citywide candidate, it’s difficult for him to get involved in a local race, especially when you’re in the seat. But I’m not looking for that support so much as I am for his vote. And I think I have his vote,” Thies said.

Thies often invokes Obama—and the president’s message of change—when he speaks to young voters, and his top aide favors a polo shirt from the 2008 campaign, with Obama’s name and the outline of Texas.

But he cut his political teeth under Senator Hillary Clinton. He was at Syracuse University when the newly elected senator was opening her upstate office, and he showed up to unpack boxes and set up cubicles, hanging around long enough that the office eventually hired him.

Thies’ own style conjures Clinton's more than it does Obama's. He seems more likely to compel voters with his knowledge and experience than with an abundance of charisma. He speaks in measured tones, outlines his policy positions, and talks earnestly about earning people’s votes.

He is sincere and studied, with a careful eye toward his own message, and its coverage. Thies was a journalism student at Syracuse, along with political science, and he left school in 2000 to cover the presidential primary for Scripps Howard.

“That whole time I was trying to decide which side of the notepad I wanted to be on, and that sort of confirmed for me that I wanted to be on the government side, if for no other reason than that I was just too impatient and wanted to be making decisions myself rather than influencing them,” Thies said.

The two often overlap. After leaving Yassky’s office in 2007, Thies worked for Berlin Rosen, a political media consultant.

And earlier, in 2004, he agreed to be the spokesman and media contact for a group of antiwar activists who were planning to protest George Bush at the Republican National Convention in New York.

The protesters devised a plan to rappel down the face of the Park Plaza Hotel and hang a huge banner that said simply “Bush” and “Truth” with two arrows pointing in opposite directions. Thies said he was not intimately involved in the plan, though he did visit one of the groups practice sessions at a Williamsburg warehouse, when they were practicing their rappelling.

Thies’ job was to be on the ground, handing out press releases and speaking to the media on behalf of the group. The banner was hung successfully, and the stunt generated considerable press.

The city was not amused. A police officer injured himself when he stepped on a skylight on the roof, and the activists, including Thies, were arrested. Thies had taken the day off so as not to involve Yassky, but the councilman still was not happy.

“I never thought I’d be arrested,” Thies said. “I was charged with something called third degree solicitation, which my lawyer didn’t even know was a crime.” A judge later dismissed the charge.

Thies said the arrest has already been used against him—evidence of a campaign that could get blistering, even among a group of self-proclaimed reformers.

Riding to the next petitioning stop, Ms. Thies mused about her son trying to become the kind of messenger her own mother had been.

“He knows I have mixed feelings about it, because I know what it really is,” Ms. Thies said. “There’s this mixture of motherly pride, and motherly ‘Oh God, don’t get hurt.’”