Who’s doing the dirty work?
Meet Ellen Baum, a Brooklyn Heights local who decided that if the city wasn’t going to scrub every last bit of weirdness off the bridge, she might as well. Armed with a wine-opener blade, gloves and a garbage bag, Ellen spent much of February picking, snipping and hauling away the oddball items people have left stuck to the chain-link fences along the Brooklyn Bridge promenade.
Why bother?
One chilly morning, after reading some dispiriting news, Ellen figured she could at least make a tiny corner of the world less messy. Her idea was simple: micro-action, micro-impact — and maybe a little joy when the clutter was gone. She treats it like low-budget bridge surgery: tedious, oddly satisfying, and absolutely necessary.
What she found (you won’t believe number five)
The collection was equal parts sentimental and gross. Ellen removed hair ties, locks of hair, receipts, Band-Aids, underwear, tampons, condoms, small padlocks and even a sunglasses pouch filled with pills in a foreign language. Some bits felt like keepsakes; others felt like health code violations. The strangest find was the Hungarian-labeled pills tucked in a sunglass case — a reminder that people leave weird, inexplicable things behind.
Is it dangerous?
Yes and no. Loose trash can fall and strike cars or cyclists below, and small padlocks can become hazards if they break free. Beyond the safety angle, much of that junk eventually blows or drops into the East River — not exactly a win for wildlife. So while a hair tie might seem harmless, the cumulative effect isn’t great.
What did the city do?
The Department of Transportation says it runs routine cleanups on the walkway but didn’t provide a clear schedule. The sanitation folks reminded everyone that littering is illegal and that fines are on the table. Meanwhile, warning signs about fines sit layered with stickers and graffiti, making the message hard to read — classic New York irony.
Neighbors and strangers pitching in
Ellen posted about her efforts on social media and got cheers, offers of tools (bolt cutters for locks) and even some helpers. Organized groups like Pickup Pigeons dropped by after seeing her posts, gave her a hand and proved cleaning is faster with friends. She declined monetary offers — she says she’s motivated by the clean fences and people thanking her in person.
Can this be kept clean?
That’s the million-dollar question. People sometimes attach new mementos right behind Ellen as she removes old ones. Rather than a one-person crusade, she’s hoping to organize monthly community cleanups so the bridge doesn’t go right back to chaos. She’s even started a website to coordinate volunteers.
Small fix, big vibe
Ellen admits this isn’t the city’s biggest problem, but it’s one she can tackle — and that’s kind of the point. Between the laughs, the gnarly finds and the repeated snips of hair ties, she’s proven that a little persistence and a sharp blade can make a public space look a lot nicer. Maybe her reward will be a special hair tie to remember all those cuts. Or at least a high-five from a grateful passerby.
