TONY PETRINA

"We should get down on our knees and beat our chests with mea culpas," says Tony Petrina. "We have sinned against downtown."

Petrina sits in the courtyard of the M.H. Cross building on the corner of 15th and Madison. He converted the antiquated structure into the Carlota Petrina Museum in honor of his dead mother. Her paintings hang from the stark walls.

Petrina is penning his latest novel. Vivaldi's Winter Movement plays in lieu of air-conditioning. A wine bottle serves as a vase for a sprig of bougainvillea.

"Downtown is withering on the vine," continues the septuagenarian over a glass of Chardonnay. "There are treasures hiding behind those facades, but these wonderful buildings are nothing but meeting places for prostitutes.

"The city should have offered incentives years ago. Cities are for living--theaters, cafes, bookstores, clubs. But nobody cares."

The depressed economy has reduced the number of women who used to ply their trade in front of the Immaculate Conception Cathedral and fornicate on the church's pews.

"I foam at the mouth when I see the indifference," resumes Petrina who spends his summers in New York.

"I am embarrassed to be Catholic. The Catholics gave the world such wonderful art. What has become of our creativity in Brownsville? I used to write letters, but you only make enemies. These glorious buildings have become grotesque."