One late afternoon in the summer of 1989, I found myself in front of Bleeker Records with my buddies. A young man caught our attention. He was dressed in a distinctive manner, sporting a swastika tattoo on his arm and red laces adorning his Doc Martens. Although I wasn’t directly involved in any incident, it was evident that this individual had a deep-seated prejudice. Tragically, his misguided beliefs led him to never return to New York City after sustaining severe knee injuries.