ABSTRACT
The fountain is in a cobblestone area about half a mile square with a big Roman style fountain in the middle, cut out of the trees and grass of Central Park. It was like a hidden valley. Walking through the trees to reach it was like finding a hidden Mayan temple buried deep in a rain forest. Once you got to it, the square was an outside-in block party, rocking and shocking the midday. Most everyone there was Black or Spanish, with Italians, Irish, and some tourists, too. Radios blaring on the same station. Fellows throwing base at the girls. Girls in high heels dancing the Latin hustle on cobblestone. There were old men playing cards, dominoes, grooving to Tito Puente, having a taste. Families were having picnics on the grass hills surrounding the square. Vendors selling ice cream, soda, hot dogs, loose joints and more. To a California kid the way people dressed was hip to the point of being bizarre. How could so many people in one place be so cool?
