The Rockaways, a narrow peninsula of working-class communities in Queens, have become one of the epicenters for the simmering sense of abandonment felt in still-darkened areas of New York City, and out into the suburbs and beyond, including large swaths of New Jersey and Long Island, where the lack of power was made more problematic by persistent gas shortages.
Around the city, particularly in places already sensitive to the afterthought status conveyed in the Manhattan-centric characterization “outer boroughs,” the accusations of neglect seemed colored by a growing belief that the recovery from Hurricane Sandy has cleaved along predictable class lines.
That sentiment was captured in a much-publicized street-corner confrontation over the weekend when residents shrieked their frustrations at Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg as he visited the Rockaways on Saturday.
“It’s all about Manhattan,” said Nora McDermott, who lives in the Rockaways, as she stood in a relief center on Saturday. “It was unbelievable, to see Manhattan get power,” she said. “Was I surprised they got it quicker? Not really. But I was like, ‘Damn.’ ”
Echoes of that thought abounded in places like Red Hook in Brooklyn, Gerritsen Beach in Brooklyn, and New Dorp Beach on Staten Island, where thousands are struggling to rebuild their lives without electricity — and, residents insisted with growing vehemence, sufficient help from leaders — even as the rest of the city powers up and moves on.
Every one of the over 115,000 residents of the Rockaways and Broad Channel is still without power, according to the Long Island Power Authority, which services those areas. And it will be several more days before the seawater-soaked substations along the Rockaway Peninsula are repaired or a workaround is in place. The substations power neighborhoods like Belle Harbor and Breezy Point, a community largely of firefighters and police officers where over 110 houses burned down on Monday night. But even once the substations are repaired, each flooded house must be certified on a case-by-case basis by a licensed electrician before it is deemed safe to flip the switch, said Lois Bentivegna, a LIPA spokeswoman.
At the Red Hook Houses, a public housing complex of nearly 3,000 apartments, power was still out on Sunday.
For almost a week now, Mario Davila, 64, who is in a wheelchair and lives on the third floor of one building, has eased his way downstairs for cigarettes and food from Meals on Wheels, a step at a time, one hand on the railing and one on his chair, and then waited for his brother to help him crawl back up. Across the East River, he knew, the elevators were once again ferrying passengers.
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Residents ate hot meals outside the Coney Island Houses in Brooklyn.
It was uncertain how many people would ultimately need housing
In New Dorp Beach, mounds — some as high as 10 feet — of debris, vintage dolls, mattresses, photographs, teddy bears and Christmas decorations piled outside nearly every home on Sunday, awaiting dump trucks. The roar of generators filled the air.
Even though some residents acknowledged the risks of living along the ocean, the contrast between Manhattan’s thrumming power lines and the snail’s pace of recovery was hard to bear.
At an American Legion hall in Broad Channel, Paul Girace, 66, stewed as he ate a meal of bow-tie pasta and canned beans provided by relief workers on Saturday.
“They got electricity already?” Mr. Girace said. “It’s par for the course. Who is the population of Manhattan? The wealthy people. Who screams in Bloomberg’s ear? The wealthy people.”
“Since the day it happened, and afterwards, we’ve all had to fend for our selves,” Ms. Cooke said. “We need to know when we’re going to have gas, light, electric. Everywhere is getting something but us.”
“We’re totally knocked out of the world,” she said.
Ms. Murphy joined in. “We’re like an orphan,” she said. “It’s like we don’t even exist.”
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