Chris Churchill: Albany violence had little to do with Floyd’s death.

Central Avenue is this city’s boulevard, a vibrant street of small business and immigrant dreams. At its best, Central is a place where Albany comes together.

But on Saturday night into Sunday morning, Central Avenue was under attack. Vandals smashed windows and streamed into stores and restaurants. They destroyed and stole cash registers. They stuffed their pockets with whatever they could grab.

On Monday, evidence of the mayhem was obvious. Along Central Avenue blocks from Henry Johnson Boulevard to Quail Street, business after business was boarded over with plywood — some because they had been hit by looters, others because their owners feared they would be. Everywhere, there was bewilderment over what had happened.

“There is no need for this,” said Niurka Durosier, owner of the Lo Nuestro Dominican Restaurant, where vandals smashed eight windows, broke tables and took the cash register early on Sunday morning. “We are sad for the man who died, but this is not the right way.”

The man who died is George Floyd, of course, an unarmed black man whose death came callously at the knee of a Minneapolis cop now charged with murder. Floyd’s death has sparked protests across the country, including one Saturday afternoon in Albany.

That was a peaceful protest against racist policing and continuing injustice, attended by hundreds. Much of the destruction on Central Avenue came hours after the protest, and it’s not clear that the violence had much, if anything, to do with Floyd’s death.

On Central Avenue, at least, the protest and the violence seem like separate, distinct events.

At Empire Cash and Carry, a wholesaler on Central between Quail Street and Lake Avenue,

employees showed me surveillance video from Sunday morning when looters stormed and ransacked the business. The looters were white and black alike, young men mostly, and they appeared gleeful at what they were getting away with.

At that moment, they didn’t look like protesters angry at what had happened to Floyd. They looked like opportunists.

They didn’t look like leftists, who President Trump has blamed the violence on. Nor did they look like right-wing agitators with an ulterior motive. They appeared to be nothing more than people who were happy for a chance to steal stuff.

They weren’t standing up against injustice or oppression. They weren’t doing anything for a cause. They were hurting people who didn’t deserve to be hurt.

They were hurting the city, too. Central Avenue is normally a street with a defiant vibrancy, but it was wounded on Monday. Some businesses were open again after the looting; some others, including the CVS drugstore, were not.

Ali Nigb, the manager at Empire Cash and Carry, estimated that as many as 80 people entered the store, doing about $15,000 worth of damage. He and other employees entered the back of the business as the looting continued but didn’t dare confront the crowd.

“I came to America in 2002, and I never imagined that something like this could happen,” said Nigb, who emigrated from Yemen. “But we’re going to keep going. We still love America until the end of our lives.”

The police? They were on the scene, Nigb and others on Central Avenue said, but officers did not intervene to stop the destruction. The looters were apparently free to do as they wished, and so they did.

Albany police spokesman Officer Steve Smith when asked if the business owners’ description of police inaction was accurate said, “Saturday night was chaotic. It was dangerous. It was a very fluid situation.” He acknowledged that police know the business community is upset and said few arrests were made Saturday night, but investigations continue.

Tay Ngo was among the victims of looters. Originally from Vietnam, Tay came to upstate New York 20 years ago and opened Tay Market, a produce store that helps make Central Avenue an immigrant boulevard and a working person’s shopping district — a street that symbolizes the American Dream.

Over the weekend, looters smashed their way into

Tay Market and took cash registers, a television and money. They mostly left the food behind.

Tay, shaking his head through broken English, told me that the pandemic and resulting lockdowns had already made 2020 a very difficult year. Businesses on Central Avenue, like many elsewhere, were already taking it on the chin.

And now this? Looting and senseless destruction? It was difficult for many along Central Avenue to believe.

“This is not a protest,” said Durosier at Lo Nuestro, standing in a storefront darkened by plywoodcovered windows. “This is sad.”