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Dickter - Staff Writer
Chasidim generally don't congregate at the corner of Marcus Garvey Boulevard and Lexington Avenue in Brooklyn.
According to the Bedford Stuyvesant Volunteer Ambulance Corps, whose headquarters are located there, it's the heart of one of the most dangerous inner-city neighborhoods in America.
Yet starting this month, a ''Jewish division'' of some 30 male volunteers, most of them chasidic, have begun reporting there for medical training, meetings and patrols.
Coming from as far away as Borough Park or as near as adjacent Williamsburg, the Orthodox volunteers have been leaving their low-crime communities to be part of what is believed to be the first minority-run volunteer ambulance corps in the nation.
Some of them will answer emergency calls on the streets of Bed-Stuy along with African-American counterparts, ready to save lives while gathering valuable field experience.
''Unfortunately, this is where the action is,'' said Tamsin Wolf, an Orthodox lawyer from Washington Heights in Manhattan and a longtime supporter and fund-raiser for the cash-strapped Bed-Stuy Vollies, as they are widely known.
Although crime in general, and gang-related violence in particular, has decreased markedly in recent years, it is not uncommon to find shooting or stabbing victims on the streets of Bedford-Stuyvesant. The volunteer corps says it is still more likely to answer an assault call on any given day than a stroke or heart attack.
Wolf, who is not a medic, has been helping to coordinate the new Jewish division. She recently persuaded the corps to reschedule a training meeting set for March 7, which is Purim.
''They wanted to show sensitivity to the Jewish volunteers,'' Wolf said.
And though there is no Jewish community to speak of in Bed-Stuy, members of the fledgling Jewish division say they want to pitch in to make a difference.
''You want to do something for society,'' said Benjamin Fish, who lives in Borough Park and runs a kosher restaurant in Williamsburg. ''You want to help other people who are in need.''
Many of the members say that Hatzoloh, the Orthodox-run corps that has chapters in virtually all Jewish neighborhoods, has enough volunteers.
''Hatzoloh is too big, they have too much going on, they have enough help,'' Fish said. ''This is a small organization and they can use the help.''
Yet in an indirect way, Hatzoloh has played a role in this new frontier in black-Jewish cooperation.
James ''Rocky'' Robinson, who founded the Bed-Stuy corps with Joe Perez, said he was inspired by Hatzoloh during his long career with the city's Emergency Medical Service.
''I was amazed that every time I would respond to a call in a Jewish neighborhood, the patient had already been removed by Hatzoloh,'' said Robinson, relaxing in an office that doubles as his home in Bed-Stuy's Lexington Avenue, which is a far cry from its Manhattan counterpart. ''In 1998, I decided to see if I can do it in Bed-Stuy. Now I try to pattern everything I do after Hatzoloh.''
Robinson, who retired from EMS three years ago, now spends his time running the volunteer corps. The new Jewish division, he said, will make the corps ''a multicultural organization, not just in words but in deeds.''
It's not the first time Robinson has tried to build bridges. Following the 1991 riots in Crown Heights, he provided an ambulance, refurbished by Hatzoloh of Williamsburg, that would be used jointly by black and Jewish volunteers.
Robinson hoped to dispel bad feelings resulting from the myth that Hatzoloh medics refused to treat a fatally wounded black child.
The Crown Heights effort never got off the ground, however. ''It went down the drain,'' he lamented. ''They needed some leadership.''
This time it's not leadership but cash that is lacking. Only one of Robinson's four ambulances is in running order, leaving volunteers to dash around the neighborhood on foot to answer calls. Wolf and Robinson are trying to raise enough money to get the disabled vehicles — known in medic shorthand as buses — back on the street.
''The goal is, in the very near future, to get at least one more bus running,'' said David Mandel, deputy chief of the Jewish division, adding that the chasidic volunteers ''probably open a door for sponsorship in the Jewish community.''
Adds Wolf: ''This is a challenged community, economically. You can't get blood from a stone. We have to go to foundations, churches and synagogues.
''They've been shy about asking for money,'' Wolf said of the Bed-Stuy corps. ''But I'm not a shy person.''
While Robinson initially intended for the newcomers to work separately because of ''sensitivity of their cultures,'' they explained that they needed no special considerations, said Mandel.
''They may have thought we might not be able to treat female patients,'' he said.
Mandel, 30, of Borough Park, said the volunteers explained that saving lives superseded nearly all other considerations, including the halachic restriction on contact between the sexes. But although the Jewish volunteers will patrol alongside other members, Mandel said that ''when we finalized it, the name Jewish division kind of stuck.''
Unlike Hatzoloh volunteers, Mandel said, the Jewish volunteers in Bed-Stuy will not be available on the Sabbath and Jewish holidays.
After meeting the chasidic trainees on Sunday, Brandon Shelly, 28, a longtime African-American volunteer with the Bed-Stuy Corps, said: ''I was impressed. They look like they're ready to go and ready to help get Bed-Stuy back on track.''
Wolf became involved with the Bed-Stuy Vollies in 1987 as a pro bono lawyer helping the group obtain tax-exempt status after volunteers showed up in her office with shopping bags filled with documents.
She has remained in close contact and now handles everything from publicity to recruitment, as well as fund raising and legal counsel.
A top priority now is trying to retain the city-owned lot where the corps stores its ambulances and a trailer used as a dispatch center. Wolf said the lot, now on the auction block, has become a de facto first aid station.
''Back in October, a man who had been shot staggered in and the volunteers were able to take him to the hospital,'' Wolf related.
Both sides acknowledge that there may be some bumps in the road ahead.
''I tell my guys, don't think you're not going to run into racial prejudice [on the streets], because you are,'' said Robinson, who recalls his own negative experiences in white neighborhoods. ''I've told people don't quit because someone called you a 'Jew bastard,' just like I didn't quit when someone called me a 'black bastard' … You've got to be able to say the patient needs the help, not this idiot behind me.''
Early enthusiasm, says Mandel, may evaporate for the Jewish division once the volunteers spend some time on the streets.
''I have a feeling at a certain point not everyone is going to end up staying,'' he said. ''After a trial basis they'll say this is not for me.''
One knowledgeable observer in the Williamsburg chasidic community said ''a lot of these guys will end up in Hatzoloh'' after gaining more training and experience.
But for now, the show of solidarity is being praised by black and Jewish elected officials.
''It shows the diversity of New York coming together for the good of the community, and I think that's a good thing,'' said Councilman Charles Barron, who represents East New York and other heavily minority communities.
Borough Park Councilman Simcha Felder noted that members of his community had a history of volunteering with another non-Jewish volunteer ambulance corps in Bensonhurst.
''This just goes to show that the best of people comes out when it comes to saving lives, no matter what community,'' he said. ''Nothing is more important.'' n
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