Help Peter Reclaim His Purpose and His Hive

Hi everyone, my name is Erika, and I’m a full-time graduate student living in New York City. I met Peter because we’re neighbors and I would often see him sitting quietly in the sun near the park where I go for my daily walks. Over time, we started chatting and quickly bonded over our shared love of nature, bees, and the little things that make life beautiful.

As I got to know Peter, I began to understand just how much he’s been through, and how urgently he needs help. His story, his resilience, and his heart moved me deeply, and I knew I couldn’t stay silent.

I’m organizing this fundraiser for Peter because he’s unable to manage this platform himself. Every word in this story was written with his permission and based on our conversations, his handwritten notes, and lived experiences. I’ll be making sure all funds go directly toward his care and essential needs.

From “New York’s Bee Boy” to the Fight of His Life

Peter is a 77-year-old lifelong New Yorker, known in his youth as “The Bee Boy of NYC.” For over seven decades, he’s lived a life of grit, compassion, and purpose: caring for bees, helping others, and surviving one hardship after another. Now, for the first time, he’s turning to his community for support.

A microwave accident in 1991 changed Peter’s life forever. A faulty door burst open while in use, exposing him to radiation that permanently damaged his immune system and left him with lasting neurological injuries. Since then, Peter has undergone over 20 surgeries, including hernia repairs, shoulder reconstructions, hand operations, and a hip replacement. And he still has at least four more surgeries ahead.

Despite it all, Peter’s never stopped dreaming, or caring for our planet.

Struggling in Assisted Living

Peter now lives in an assisted living facility in New York City. His entire $1,100 Social Security check is taken by the facility each month, leaving him with no money for clothing, food, personal items, or even basic transportation to his medical appointments. He has no savings, no family support, and limited mobility—he uses a wheelchair part-time and relies on it for stability.

Most recently, on April 11, Peter was struck by a heavy metal cart pushed by a porter in the facility’s basement. The blow knocked his legs out from under him and threw him flat on his back. After five days in the hospital, Peter now needs surgeries on both shoulders, compounding the pain from his already fragile hip and severe arthritis. Peter often jokes, “They’ve patched me up more times than I can count, but I’m still here, and I’ve still got work to do.”

He’s also at risk of losing the last remaining storage unit in Pennsylvania that holds the only possessions he has left, a lifetime of memories, keepsakes, and pieces of his personal history —everything else has already been lost to displacement, theft, or hospital bills.

Peter’s love of bees started at just five years old, when his father brought home a hive in the backseat of a 1951 Buick. By age seven, Peter was dubbed “New York City’s Bee Boy” after he helped remove a decades-old hive from a church in Astoria. It was Peter’s father who brought him along—but it was Peter who made headlines.

That early fascination quickly turned into a calling. By 16, Peter was already being called on by schools and police departments to handle bee emergencies—and his efforts were even recognized in The New York Times. In 1964, he made the paper for safely removing a massive hive from the walls of his former school in Flushing, Queens:

“A 16-year-old beekeeper named Peter Groome came to the aid of his old school yesterday. He took a hive of several thousand bees out of its walls.”

— The New York Times, June 18, 1964

Read the article

Wearing a net helmet, gloves, and a windbreaker, and armed only with a butcher knife, Peter pried off bricks and woodwork to reach the swarm. He calmly cut out eight pounds of honeycomb—home to an estimated 50,000 bees—and carried the hive back to his house just three doors down, where he kept six other colonies. He was only 16.

Since then, Peter has removed hives across NYC, appeared on national television to advocate for pollinators, and even traveled to Venezuela in 1976 to train first responders on how to handle dangerous swarms of Africanized bees at the border with Brazil.

His passion hasn’t faded, only his physical strength. Today, Peter’s dream is to restart a small urban beekeeping project and speak at local schools and community centers to raise awareness about the collapse of bee populations. He warns of the “enormous catastrophe we’re heading toward if we let the honey bees, our girls, go extinct.”

“Even if I can’t lift the hives anymore,” Peter says, “I can still teach. I can still make people care.”

A Survivor in Every Sense

Peter’s life has been defined by survival. At age 18, he narrowly escaped a deadly chemical plant explosion in New Jersey while leading a crew of 20 painters. He was thrown 15 feet by the blast and miraculously survived after landing on a fire hose instead of a steel deck. He then helped five other men escape across a roof.

He later lost his home, business, and farmland after the 1991 accident—and then his beloved partner Barbara in 2020 after 25 years together. Peter cared for her through a brain injury, even as he struggled with his own health.

And still, he jokes, saying he’s too stubborn to give up.

Today, all he wants is a second chance: to heal, to preserve what little he has left, and to give back by doing what he’s always done—protect the bees, and in turn, protect us.

How You Can Help

Your donation will go directly toward:

* Urgent medical care and surgery copays (including shoulder and hand procedures)

* $1,000 to save Peter’s storage unit, which contains the last of his life’s belongings

* Clothing, hygiene, and basic daily necessities

* Transportation support to get Peter to essential medical appointments

* Helping Peter restart his local beekeeping project, mentor young environmentalists, and give back to his community

We know it’s a tough time for many—but even $5 makes a difference. If just 300 people give $10, Peter can save his storage unit and get the care he needs.

Peter has lost almost everything—his health, his home, his partner—but he hasn’t lost his hope. And he hasn’t stopped caring about the world around him.

Let’s show him that he’s not alone—and that after a lifetime of giving back, his community is ready to give back to him.

Every donation helps—and if you can’t give right now, please share Peter’s story. It takes just a moment, and it truly matters.

Thank you for helping Peter keep going.