Abused Girl's Neighbors Held Back by Fears
Abused Girl's Neighbors Held Back by Fears
By MICHEL MARRIOTT WITH ALAN FINDER
LEAD: In the last days of Elizabeth Steinberg's life, Fayette Dunn was troubled by a festering suspicion that the little girl who lived in the apartment just above hers was being abused.
In the last days of Elizabeth Steinberg's life, Fayette Dunn was troubled by a festering suspicion that the little girl who lived in the apartment just above hers was being abused.
She had noticed that the 6-year-old girl had grown pale, and that there was an uncharacteristic ''sad little look'' to her face. But the woman in apartment 2W, like so many others who could have helped, did nothing.
''I thought of calling the police, but I hadn't any evidence at all,'' Mrs. Dunn said yesterday in a telephone interview. ''What could I do?''
In the wake of Elizabeth's death Thursday, new details about the case make it apparent that far fewer people had tried to help than originally asserted. In fact, a new round of interviews with neighbors of the family revealed that many, though concerned, did nothing. A combination of fear, apathy and a big-city reluctance to breach another family's privacy apparently prevented them from alerting the authorities. Lisa, the Bright First-Grader
For months Elizabeth, known as Lisa, played like any other child in her Greenwich Village neighborhood of brownstones and trendy shops. By most accounts, she seemed like any other first grader, playful and bright.
But in recent weeks, there were troubling signs that something was terribly wrong. A teacher noticed a black-and-blue mark. A neighbor noted an unusual lapse of attention. And almost all of the six or so households in the apartment building on fashionable West 10th Street were convinced that the girl's adoptive mother, Hedda Nussbaum, was being severely battered by her companion, Joel B. Steinberg. Ms. Nussbaum and Mr. Steinberg have been charged with murder.
''It never occurred to us that he was beating the girl,'' said a neighbor, who requsted anonymity. ''It was stupid. It should have.''
In fact, Elizabeth's story is one largely of connections unmade, suspicions ignored.
Almost immediately after the police discovered Elizabeth's battered body Monday in the family's third-floor apartment, neighbors began angrily telling reporters that for years they had repeatedly called the police and a child-abuse hot line, demanding action.
But interviews Thursday and yesterday with many of Elizabeth's neighbors and a former colleague of Ms. Nussbaum indicate that relatively few calls were actually made.
''Earlier this week we were all angry because our calls did not prevent this,'' a neighbor said yesterday. ''But now we're saying, 'We didn't do enough.' ''
Police officials said yesterday that a computer check Wednesday indicated that only once this year had anyone called the police to report that Ms. Nussbaum was being abused. And officials from the Human Resources Administration, which operates the city's social services, said no one had contacted them since 1984 concerning Elizabeth.
One resident of the apartment building where Elizabeth lived told reporters earlier that she had called authorities from 30 to 50 times regarding violence in the Steinberg apartment. Suspicions of Abuse Linger
However, after further interviews, the neighbor, who asked not to be identified, said that she called the police ''maybe five times'' in the last two years, and that four years ago, she anonymously called city social workers to discuss her fears that Elizabeth was being mistreated.
City officials said they sent social workers to the Steinberg apartment once in 1983 and twice in 1984, after receiving accusations of child neglect and abuse. They have repeatedly said social workers found no evidence of either.
But people around Elizabeth continued to harbor suspicions.
One neighbor said she called a national child-abuse hot line but was told that because her information was second hand, they could not assist her. No Foolproof Detection Method
Another neighbor blamed school officials, who did not notice signs that Elizabeth was being abused or neglected. But Elliot Koreman, principal of Public School 41, which Elizabeth attended, said the child seemed normal.
''Don't you think we've tortured ourselves asking if she exhibited anything in school?'' Mr. Koreman asked. ''But there were no signs whatsoever.''
About bruises reportedly seen on Elizabeth's face, Mr. Koreman said they were not severe. He said that school officials had spoken to the girl's parents, who said the girl had been struck by her 16-month-old adopted brother, Mitchell.
Mr. Koreman called Elizabeth's case of child abuse a ''terrible tragedy.'' He added: ''Things like this happen. We have no foolproof method of detecting them. We're doing the best we can.'' A 'Rasputin-Like Character'
William J. Grinker, the commissioner of the city's Human Resource Administration, said earlier this week: ''As far as our handling of the case, I think we did what we were supposed to do. You cannnot police every family in New York.''
Yesterday, he said the Steinberg case did not seem to call for systematic revisions in how child-abuse cases are handled.
''Nothing reaches out to me,'' he said, ''because in this case it looks like you have a Rasputin-like character.''
''I don't think the child-protection system could have done more,'' said James S. Cameron, executive director of the Federation of Child Abuse and Neglect. Talks With a Neighbor
Another neighbor, Gregory Cohen, said everyone in the apartment building loved Elizabeth. ''There is nobody in this building, on this block, who would have stood silently by and watched this happen to her,'' he said.
But he said people must be careful when intruding into anyone's domestic affairs. And since there was no obivious evidence that Elizabeth was being abused, he said, respect for a someone's privacy helped insulate her family from scrutiny.
''You can't be John Rambo, with an M-60 strapped across your chest kicking down doors,'' he said. ''You can only do so much if your concerned. You got to use the system.''
He said he believed the police did all they possibily could. But he said he believed that welfare services could have done more if they hadn't been understaffed and underfinanced.
Mrs. Dunn, a longtime neighbor of the family, said she believed she had done all she should could for Elizabeth but seemed haunted by the question of whether she could have done more.
With the exception of Elizabeth's family, Mrs. Dunn perhaps knew the little girl better than anyone else in the apartment building.
When Elizabeth would venture downstairs to pick up her family's mail, she would knock on the door of 2W to visit with Mrs. Dunn. The two - a grandmotherly widow and a graceful girl with a grown-up charm - quickly became friends.
''We used to talk about little things like two adults,'' said Mrs. Dunn, who moved to her new home in the Vermont countryside the day before the police found Elizabeth unconscious.
But in the last weeks of Elizabeth's life, Mrs. Dunn said, she noticed that her ''favorite little person'' began to look unhappy. She had heard the stories that Ms. Nussbaum was being regularly beaten by Mr. Steinberg and wondered if the violence was also being inflicted on her young friend.
She saw no scars, no bruises on the child, who usually wore pants, high-necked and long-sleeved clothing, even in the summer.
The day Mrs. Dunn moved out of her apartment, where she had lived for more than 20 years, she could not stop wondering about Elizabeth and her safety, she said yesterday.
''The last day I was there, I got to wondering about her,'' Mrs. Dunn said. ''I just wondered if she was being abused.''
She said she wanted to ask Elizabeth, but didn't. Mrs. Dunn said she feared the girl would tell her parents and place herself in more danger of being abused. And with all the commotion of moving and packing, Mrs. Dunn said she became overwhelmed with the day's activities.
As she was being driven to Vermont, Mrs. Dunn said, she became increasingly worried about Elizabeth.
''All the next day when I was riding up here I kept thinking, 'maybe I should do something,' '' she said. ''I couldn't have done anything anyway. The police probably wouldn't have come anyway.''