No Red Faces

When I first heard about homosexuals as a young boy, I wanted to know what they looked like. How could you tell someone was gay and where could you find them? And most importantly, how could they possibly identify one another in order to be together?

These things were cloaked in mystery. One of the few things I was told was that they had secret signals, such as wearing an article of clothing in a particular color, like a red necktie.* I never saw any men with red neckties, nor did I encounter any men who were openly gay. For that, I would have to wait until I moved to New York City.

Of course, at that time, things were very muddled and misinformation ruled. Homosexuals, pedophiles and perverts were all lumped together in a convenient basket of societal miscreants, a mess that took me years to untangle and sort out.

One of my high school math teachers was a very accomplished artistic figure roller skater. He was married. One day a comment was made aloud, directed towards him, implying something of an effeminate or gay quality. Our teacher turned bright red. Nothing else was said. Was he a married gay in the closet or just embarrassed by a false accusation? I will never know.

After my first visit to New York City in the 1960s, it was immediately clear that this was the locus for all things offbeat, unconventional and counter cultural. A place where those that were different could be themselves and accepted. This was the place I had been looking for and New York City, particularly Greenwich Village, called out to me like a siren. It never occurred to me before moving here that the tolerance this neighborhood was known for would include gays.

When I was a freshman at New York University (located in the heart of the Village), we were told there was a bar nearby where gay men openly congregated - Julius' at Waverly and 10th Streets. This we had to see. A number of us went, nervously observing the patrons come and go and even peering through the window, not knowing what to expect. However, they all just looked like everyone else. And I saw no red ties and no red faces ...

Note about the bar: Julius' is the oldest continuously operating Gay bar in New York City. The building dates to 1824 and it has operated as a bar since 1840. It has been frequented by many members of the gay community since the 1950s including many well known such as Tennessee Williams, Truman Capote and Rudolf Nureyev (see NY Times article here). Although not technically illegal, gays were not served alcohol prior to 1966. The State Liquor Authority had a regulation against serving homosexuals in bars, by considering them "disorderly." In 1966, the Mattachine Society staged a Sip-In at Julius', challenging the SLA and getting the courts to rule that gays had the right to assemble and be served. This paved the way for the Stonewall riots.

* Colored triangles were used to identify gays (as well as others) in the Nazi concentration camps during WWII. See a chart here and article here.

Shows Me Here

Although saddled with a less than stellar reputation, storefront psychics, like most other fields of endeavor, span a range of expertise, or perhaps more accurately say, familiarity with the arts of fortune telling.

In the 1970s, the niece of a friend was rather determined to get a psychic reading, so we obliged. After all, what was the harm of few dollars spent for her satisfaction and our amusement? And, to be honest, I had always been curious myself. So off we went to find a Gypsy/Roma fortuneteller. This was a simple task - several hundred psychic shops dot the boroughs of New York City, and we knew of one just around the corner.

What we hoped would at least be an entertaining small indulgence turned out to be a disappointment. Our companion chose palm reading as the road map to her future. The psychic held her hand, palm up, and began to go through a list of questions. Each question/answer/prediction was embarrassingly simplistic and formulaic. "Do you want to be married?" Our companion answered "yes." The psychic pointed to a very general area in the center of her palm and said "Shows me here you are going to be married."

"Do you want to have children?" "Yes." "Shows me here you are going to have children." Every one of the psychic's predictions was prefaced with "shows me here" while pointing to the same vague area in the center of our subject's hand. No effort at all was made to even remotely use the elements of palmistry. No life, head, heart, sun, mercury or fate lines.

Clearly we had not found our way to the top of the profession, but, like many disappointing experiences, a sense of humor can turn these incidents into comic material for years to come. "Shows me here" became a private catchphrase and when popped unexpectedly at an opportune place in a conversation, it never failed to elicit laughs from our coterie of insiders.

I was always puzzled as to how psychics working alone could possibly even afford storefront rents, much less make a living. I was surprised to learn that, according to a 1999 New York Times article, fortunetellers at the time made an average of $200,000 per year. How? By reigning in clients, telling them that their problems require special treatment to remove curses or other negative influences. That costs money. Some victims have paid as much as several hundred thousand dollars over a period of time. Actually, this activity, practiced this way, is illegal and the police department has stepped up enforcement. From the Times article:

Fortunetelling is legal for entertainment -- like hiring someone to read tarot cards at a party. But the penal code calls it a misdemeanor when a person ''holds himself out as being able, by claimed or pretended use of occult powers, to answer questions or give advice on personal matters or to exorcise, influence or affect evil spirits or curses.'' Those who extract large sums are often charged with larceny, a more serious crime.

We all like the comfort of any easy repair of life's problems. However, I am sad to report, that it "shows me here" the local fortuneteller is probably not going to be the fix :)

Other Related Postings: Comin Up, Fit-ty Fi.

Sieve of Darwin

Have you ever seen a film about New York City that really plays up the artistic world of old? Where it seems that everyone is a writer, dancer, musician or painter? Perhaps the sound of typewriter comes wafting out onto the street as an actor strolls down some charming Village lane. Or frenetic singers bump into each other in a hallway somewhere in the theater district on the way to an audition. And someone is banging on their ceiling with a broom because a neighbor is hammering away at their piano at some god awful hour.

Romantic folly and Hollywood nonsense? Not completely. Because as I was reading for this story last night after 10 PM, I could actually hear Colin Huggins in my apartment through my open window (see here and here), playing his piano in Washington Square Park.

I can't imagine anywhere else where I could enjoy this privilege - my hair stood on end. Some days the city really feels like the promised land - everything I had hoped for when I moved here. A place where I could find a man like Colin Huggins, dragging one of his many pianos onto the street using dollies.

Colin Huggins is a classically trained pianist, has worked as a dance accompanist and is music director for the Joffrey Ballet. He keeps his pianos at various storage facilities in Manhattan near his performance spots. I have seen him in Washington Square Park and Father Demo Square. He also can be found in the subway system. Huggins believes he is the only person to bring a piano to the subterranean depths - no small accomplishment (he uses a subway elevator - there are a handful of them in the city).

In 2007, feeling he was getting a bit too much into a work grind, Huggins tried bringing a real piano into Washington Square Park. From Colin's website:

I've been a dance accompanist for five years in New York now. And even though I enjoy it, it started to make me feel like the old man behind the piano. When I began to lose sleep every night and found myself irritable everyday, I knew without a doubt, it was time to figure out how to feel like a rock star instead.

So last summer (2007), for fun, I tried bringing a real piano into Washington Square Park, and honestly, I'd never felt so good about an activity in my entire life. I made money, played songs that I really enjoyed, and made a lot of other people happy too. No matter what age or cultural background the listeners were, I could figure out something to play that would make them smile. It's a challenge I'm really excited about. So although it may seem like I'm going down on the totem pole of career choices and stability, I feel so much better about myself and so much more connected to the community here and the arts in general.

When I asked Huggins for his contact information, he handed me his card which said:

Colin Huggins / Pianist Rock Star / World's Happiest Man / www.thecrazypianoguy.com

You will still find thousands of working artists in New York City. Although I do fear for their survival as many are squeezed into the most inhospitable neighborhoods in the outer boroughs, I am hopeful that those with resourcefulness and tenacity (and perhaps day jobs) will survive the sieve of Darwin :)

An inspiring note: As I write this, I am listening to the Chopin Nocturnes and Waltzes played by Artur Rubinstein, considered one of the greatest pianists of the 20th century. I am absolutely astonished reading about Rubenstein. A prodigy at age 4, Artur was fluent in 8 languages, had perfect pitch and a photographic memory, keeping most of his repertoire in his mind.

From Time Magazine:

In 1903 he caused a sensation in Warsaw by performing Paderewski's Sonata in E Flat Minor the day after it was published; he learned Cesar Franck's complex Symphonic Variations on the train en route to a concert hall in Madrid. He can commit a sonata to memory in one hour, and he can play as many as 250 lieder. His friends used to play a kind of "Stump Artur" game in which they would call out titles—excerpts from symphonies, operas, Cole Porter scores—to see if he could play them. "Stumped Friends" would have been a better name for it. "Rubinstein," says Conductor Edouard van Remoortel, "is the only pianist you could wake up at midnight and ask to play any of the 38 major piano concertos."

"When I play, I turn the pages in my mind," he explains, "and I know that in the bottom right-hand corner of this page is a little coffee stain, and on that page I have written molto vivace."

But Rubenstein was not just a brilliant technician. He was the consummate artist:

On stage, I will take a chance. There has to be an element of daring in great music-making. These younger ones, they are too cautious. They take the music out of their pockets instead of their hearts.

Respect

If you have never been to a New York City comedy club, you owe it to yourself. The city abounds in comedy clubs in many neighborhoods. New and established talent can be seen on a nightly basis. Cable TV and the Internet have made available an enormous amount of comedy - live and recorded. However, there is nothing like the infectious effect of live comedy on an audience.

I have frequented a number of New York City's comedy clubs over the years. Comics will often used the word "killed" to describe a successful show - e.g. he really "killed." This is nearly literal - I have been to many shows where people look like they are going to die with uncontrollable laughter, tears running down their faces and where smiles sometimes even turn to grimaces of pain. I have woken up after a previous night's comedy show with actual muscle aches from laughing. But it is very therapeutic.

New York city has been a birthplace, mecca and an incubator for comedic talent - standup comedians, comic film actors and writers. Particularly the Jewish American comedian. Take a look at this short list:

Larry David, Woody Allen, Jerry Seinfeld, Jackie Mason, Zero Mostel, Joan Rivers, Groucho Marx and family (UES/Carnegie Hill), Mel Brooks, Andy Kaufman, Alan King, Sid Caesar, Carl Reiner, Neil Simon. Milton Berle, George Burns and the newer crop like Todd Barry, Whoopi Goldberg, Al Franken, Jon Stewart and Bill Maher.

Rodney Dangerfield, (born Jacob Cohen just outside New York City in Babylon Long Island) was an influential comedian well known for his standup work and film. His signature catchphrases "I don't get no respect" or "I get no respect" are legendary, as are his comedy routines built on his unique style of self deprecating humor.

Dangerfield shot to stardom after an appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show.* On September 29, 1969, Rodney opened Dangerfield's, the longest running comedy club in the world. It is located at 1118 First Avenue at 61st Street in Manhattan's Upper East Side. Dangerfield's club was a broadcast venue for a comedy showcase series with HBO.

The "why so many brilliant Jewish comics?" has been often asked. Suffering and persecution are common themes in the answers:

"Look at Jewish history. Unrelieved lamenting would be intolerable. So, for every ten Jews beating their breasts, God designated one to be crazy and amuse the breast beaters. By the time I was five I knew I was that one." - Mel Brooks

"The truth of the matter is, persecuted people have two things they can do to win their point." "They can punch back, or they can defuse it with laughter." - Carl Reiner

Rodney Dangerfield, like all the other great New York City Jewish comedic talent, easily gets my respect ...

* Ed Sullivan (1901-1974) hosted one of the longest-running variety shows in U.S. television history, from 1948 to 1971. Sullivan was also born in New York City. Broadcast from CBS Studio 50, it was renamed The Ed Sullivan Theater in 1967 and is currently the home of The Late Show with David Letterman.

When Your Name is Mud

As much as I dislike chasing the latest trends or frequenting the latest scenes, I also don't want to be the last on the block to know about a place that is genuinely a great find. All of my friends had recently discussed the coffee and ambiance of Mud and on a recent visit to Doma (see here) I overheard someone tell his companion that Mud in the East Village was also a cool place, inhabited by writers. So it was on the must visit list.

And so I was quite pleased that on a friend's birthday celebration Saturday night, a decision was made at dinner to go somewhere else for dessert. This is a common phenomenon in New York City, because a specialist in desserts and (and coffee) is usually just around a corner or a short stroll away, particularly in downtown Manhattan. This dessert somewhere else, akin to bar hopping or a pub crawl, is motivated by any number of reasons - change of scenery, better desserts or better value.

At Mud, the desserts are quite pricey, so I would not encourage value shoppers to seek this place out. However, being in the cafe business is tough these days. It is not only competitive, but with the rain (or reign) of laptops, these places have become second living rooms. Some customers may buy one drink and spend the afternoon. At this point in time, in small cafés like this, pricing reflects more a space rental fee than the value of food or beverage.

But the ambiance is tres cool, there is a garden in the back (glass topped in winter), the desserts are excellent and the coffee - well - Mud gets raves, but I leave you to decide. I am not a coffee drinker and even at that, coffee must be up at the top of the list of most contentious topics in New York City, along with pizza and Japanese restaurants.

Mud was launched as Mudtruck in 2001 by husband and wife Nina Kay Berott and Greg Northrop. Mudtruck was immediately compared to the green giant of coffee - Starbucks. The pricing from the Mudtruck was significantly less than the Starbucks surrounding it. Add a quality brew and the place quickly became a regular stop for many.

The orange vehicle, a converted Con Ed truck, can be found at Astor Place (and now a second location on Greenwich Avenue). At the Café, they sell their own custom blend of coffee beans along with mugs and Mud branded apparel. There's a mini industry here with the Mudspot, Mudtruck, Mudshop, Mudmusic. It gives a new meaning to your name is Mud :)

Photo Note: Orange is a dominant color theme at Mud. Appropriately, our birthday boy also loves orange - that's his T shirt in the upper right corner of the lower photo :)

For Whom the Knell Tolled

Please listen to the audio while you read this ...

I recall being in a tiny village one morning in France and seeing the most extraordinary thing - an old man hanging a huge basket of flowers in the town center. Nothing about the deliberate act seemed practical at all. It looked like a lot of work, the kind of beautification effort rarely seen in New York City.

In other medieval villages, there were old men playing boule and chatting. There were markets. And if I was lucky, there were church bells. There is nothing more evocative than being in a small town and hearing the peal of church bells. I am happy that I am not a devout atheist - it would be much more difficult to appreciate the great churches and temples of the world.

I met author Terry Miller once, at a signing for the release of his book Greenwich Village And How It Got That Way. In speaking to him, I made a remark regarding the over-commercialization of many areas of Greenwich Village. He was quite quick to retort "Where else are you going to live - Europe?"

I have reflected on this for years. I don't dislike the United States - as I have met people from other countries over the years, I have gotten to appreciate this country more. But I do love Europe. And I do believe Greenwich Village has the closest thing in the United States to the ambiance of the older neighborhoods of cities and towns of Europe - the food, arts, culture, street life and architecture with its hundreds of 19th century row houses.

As I walked through the South Village along Thompson Street recently, I heard the ringing of church bells coming from St. Anthony's church (officially the Church of St. Anthony of Padua) which runs from Sullivan to Thompson Street along Houston Street. I ran hurriedly to record it, expecting only to get a few final rings for the 11th hour. The ringing, however, continued for quite some time. I discovered that there was a funeral being held, explaining the long ringing. I can not tell you for whom the death knell tolled, but it called to me and I went ...

Photo Note: The tall slim tower in the left photo, is the bell tower.

Viva ViVa

There are barometers for New York City. Things that can tell you about a neighborhood, that it is on the move and has a new identity - perhaps a catchy acronym that real estate brokers and their customers can wield as a balm to soothe any fears of investment or as a location to actually live in.

A Fairway market is also a good barometer. This store is well loved in the city. It is a large operation and it is doubtful they are going to make an investment in a neighborhood with no promise of growth and development for residential use. And I would go as far to say that they are a contributing factor in the livability of an area - particularly a neighborhood transitioning from commercial/industrial use to residential, like Red Hook in Brooklyn, paricularly places that are somewhat remote and have a dearth of services.

Manhattanville, an area of West Harlem stretching from 125th to 135th Streets, was an independent village in the 1800s. The area furthest west against the Hudson River along 12th Avenue is called ViVa, for Viaduct Valley. The tiny neighborhood sits under the Riverside Drive viaduct, built in 1901. The area includes West Harlem Piers Waterfront park (from 125th to 132nd Streets) which was opened in 2008 and includes a fishing pier, a kayak launch and water taxi landings.

ViVa, at one time a meat packing district and more recently a manufacturing and warehouse district, has taken some time to gain momentum - Fairway has been in the neighborhood since 1995. Restaurants have led the renaissance and 12th Avenue has become a restaurant row - see article here.

Columbia University is the big player here, with a major expansion planned. Property has been acquired for their new 18-acre campus - see map here.

Of course not everyone has the assets of real estate developers, new residents or Columbia University. Depending on who or where you are, I imagine many but not all are cheering Viva ViVa ...

Note: The Cotton Club shown in the photo has no historical connection to the original club which was located in Harlem.

With All Due Respect

On my last visit to Harlem on a Sunday, I witnessed huge numbers of people in fancy clothes getting in and out of vehicles. There were traffic jams in front of churches as vans and cars unload church congregation members.

On January 4th, 2010, I wrote We Got Religion, but in Harlem, they really got religion. For years I have been threatening to see a gospel performance in a Harlem club. But gospel does not have its roots in night clubs. It is Christian based music sung to express a spiritual belief and finds its home in churches. And in New York City, we find the most well known venues in Harlem.

There is a tourist industry built around visiting the various churches, with buses and groups visiting on Sunday mornings. Harlem is one of the top tourist destinations in New York City. Few New York City residents, however, venture there. Distance from Midtown, downtown and other boroughs is somewhat a factor - for most residents, Harlem is a destination.

As pointed out in a New York Times article, this whole phenomenon is controversial:

A hint of annoyance is sometimes evident as church members complain that they are on display. One Harlem minister admitted to mixed feelings about visitors who tend to behave like members of an audience rather than as worshipers. Few bow their heads in prayer. Fewer still join in as the congregations sing from their hymnals. But, he conceded, language may be a barrier to participation.

Others point to the reality of contributions from tour companies and individuals that help finance church-based community programs. And there's some expression of begrudging respect for people who appreciate good music and are willing to venture uptown to find it.

We have the classic dual edged sword of tourism - welcomed income and unwelcomed impact that crowds of tourists have on a visited place.

On my recent excursion to Harlem, I photographed the very striking Mount Neboh Baptist Church. Unbeknownst to me, this is one of the premier church venues in Harlem for gospel music. Others include Abyssinian Baptist Church, Canaan Baptist Church and the Greater Refuge Temple. See article here.

My understanding is that the church services are extraordinarily spirited and electrifying. I plan on going, with all due respect ...

Miracles In Our Midst, Part 2

At one time, Greenwich Village and SoHo had a large number of independent natural food stores, virtually all of which have closed. Whole Foods (no relation to the existing national chain Whole Foods Market) at 117 Prince Street, stood for 3 decades, from 1970 to 2000. This and a second Upper West Side location were owned by Charles Rosenblum. The Prince Street location was the largest natural foods store in New York City in dollar sales and became a mini mecca of sorts.

My own business was located only a few short blocks away and my walk to work took me by the shop daily, so I frequented it often over many years.

It was here in the early 1990s that I met David Miller, a man who worked the vitamin department. He was extraordinarily and curiously knowledgeable - the reason became immediately apparent once I learned that his intention was to enter medical school. At a later point, while in medical school, the demand for his expertise became even greater for David in vitamins at Whole Foods.

David appeared to have a West Indian accent, so I inquired as to his background. I was stunned when he told me he was from Dominica. If you have read Part 1 of this story, you know of someone rather obsessed with this island nation. The tiny population of the island made it unlikely I would ever meet a native by chance in New York City so this discovery was a major event. Of course I told him of my romance with the island, but words are cheap and it is easy to imagine I might be perhaps trying to ingratiate myself with him.

How was I to demonstrate the sincerity of my special interest in Dominica? Quite simple - exhibit A from Part 1 of this story should do rather nicely, so I announced to David that I would return the following day with something special that I assured him he would never see in New York City.

The next day I strolled buoyantly down Prince Street with my 24" x 41" British Ordnance Survey map of Dominica and showed it to David. He was astounded and said he had not seen a map like that outside the classroom when growing up on the island. That day cemented our unique connection.

Recently, after 10 years of losing contact, I ran across David in a white lab coat with his stethoscope at Lifethyme, a natural foods shop in the Village. I was pleased to learn he is now Dr. David I F Miller MD, a graduate of Ross School of Medicine in Dominica and is currently looking for a residency. David works at the shop several days per week, helping hundreds of individuals who query him on every imaginable ailment.

In the time I was in the shop to take photos of him, I spoke with a long time devotee who championed David as no less than a miracle worker, having helped him through ailments. He detailed to me his medical treatment at Memorial Sloan Kettering and the improvements he saw with David's recommendations. He knew of many others who had similar experiences.

In an amazing twist, David told me of a recent discovery in Dominica. There are 22 centenarians out of the island's almost 70,000 population - three times the average incidence in developed countries. The reasons for this phenomenon are the subject of current research at the Ross University School of Medicine.

Perhaps this was the island Eden I was searching for. But with a doctor from Dominica dispensing free advice, why look so far from home when we have miracles in our midst :)

Note about David: Dr. David I F Miller, MD was born in Roseau, Dominica in 1966. After the devastating Hurricane David of 1979, David lived for a time in Montserrat, West Indies. He moved to the US in 1987 and returned to Dominica where he attended Ross School of Medicine from 2004-2008. He currently is married living in Brooklyn, New York.

MIracles In Our Midst, Part 1

In the 1970s, New York City was not particularly hospitable to the vegetarian or natural foods devotee. Granted, it was better than the suburbs, where anyone with such a dietary regime was regularly cross examined as to the reasons why. Vegetarianism did not have the cache it does today, where Hollywood stars adopt it as the latest fashion like a pair of Birkenstocks or Buddhism.

Natural food stores and a handful of vegetarian restaurants existed, but outside of these outposts, natural foods did not permeate the fabric of the American culture the way is does today. Soy milk, tofu, brown rice, whole grain cereals, bottled smoothies - these items are common today in virtually every grocery shop, deli in New York City, but at that time, they were hard to come by and had to be ferreted out, tantamount to panning for gold.

There were books like Survival Into the 21st Century (over 1 million copies sold) by Viktoras Kulvinskas and Man's Higher Consciousness by Hilton Hotema, which became nearly biblical with the vegetarian community and members of the health food movement. The authors espoused various dietary philosophies such as fruitarianism, mucusless diets, liquidarianism, sproutarianism, raw foodism, veganism and even breatharianism. On occasion, one of these gurus might visit the city for a presentation of sorts. There were health expos at the convention centers.

This environment, along with the idealism of youth and a desire for an idyllic Eden, led to my long obsession with tropical islands, where I dreamed a person might live on the fruits of nature. Stories of dietary extremists like Johnny Lovewisdom and his attempt at recreating a paradisaical life in the Andes of South America were the inspiration for many.

Cold dreary New York City winters seemed antithetical to visions of tropical paradise and soon I needed to claim my own Eden, even if for only 10 days at a time. However, my flavor of Eden included hot showers, air conditioning (or at least fans) and flush toilets. So, I opted for tropics close to home with some modcons - the West Indies. I visited many of these islands over several years, but none had the impact of Dominica (not to be confused with the Dominican Republic). This lush island was home to rain forests, rare birds, waterfalls, daily rainbows and mountains - Morne Diablotins rises to 4,747 feet - quite dramatic for an island only of only 291 square miles.

It was the botanic garden I had been searching for and I made three visits. I had the island virtually to myself - the scarcity of beaches is one of the primary reasons that the island is little known and the least visited of the Caribbean islands (around nearly the entire island, green covered mountains plunge to the sea). You can read more about this remarkable little island gem here.

Is there a stronger connection between Dominica and New York City than my ruminations and obsession? Yes, there certainly is, but for that you have to meet David Miller. We will do that tomorrow in Part 2 :)

Photo Note: This is British Ordnance survey map of the island dated 1982. I purchased this large map (24 in. x 41 in.) on one of my visits to the island and on my return had it mounted on foam core.

Fuggedaboutit

I have just finished reading through a litany of quotes on patience, thinking perhaps it would be a good theme for a story about what it takes to get an apartment like the one in today's photos. Specifically, a duplex that has a full parlor floor and a small bedroom on the lower floor with small garden space. An apartment located in a historic 1837 landmark townhouse on Washington Square North with windows facing Washington Square Park. There are only three privately owned residential townhouses on the entire park - the rest are occupied by New York University and utilized as offices or residences for university faculty or personnel.

In reading over lists of quotes on patience and pondering what might be the best suited as appropriate for this real estate dilemma, it slowly dawned on me that, although patience is a virtue, it would really be disingenuous to tell you that the secret to getting a place like this is to have the patience of a saint. Why? Because you might die waiting. Literally.

This apartment has been occupied by the same tenant for the last 35 years. Super long tenancy is the same case for two of the three remaining apartments - one occupied for 29 years and the other over 30 years. Unless you have a secret as to how to stack the odds in your favor for games like the lotto, then it would be best to discount luck also, because being at the right place at the right time to acquire occupancy in a property like this somehow seems to be something to require more than luck. For those who are religiously inclined, perhaps the grace of God would be more apt.

And for those who believe that money can buy most things and that lots of money can buy almost anything, think again. Because this is the kind of thing that money can't buy. This apartment is a rental and not available for sale. Buy the building? No, tenants have approached the owner over past years. The landlord has dozens of mortgage-free properties, does not need the money and is just not interested in selling. Period.

So what's the secret? There is none. Just forget places like this exist. Or as they say in Brookynese, fuggedaboutit :)

Note: For another rare glimpse at a spectacular garden space in this building, see Affront to Dignity here.

Get a Room

Having my family from New England and others visit me in New York City over the last few decades has provided me with perspective. I learned how much outsiders often see the city as a place where anything goes. The wild west.

The city is extremely permissive and outrageous things do occur regularly. But New York is not lawless. I have seen young guys from out of town drinking alcohol in Washington Square Park and being quite surprised when police ask them to pour their beverages out onto the ground and then write them a citation.

I have a friend from outside this country who, coming from a much more conservative culture, is frequently shocked by various public behaviors, particularly PDAs (Public Displays of Affection - see my story here). Her frequent comments made me aware at how often people here indulge themselves in public. I defused the occurrences somewhat by introducing some humor and acquainting her with the American phrase, "get a room". This, along with the subway announcements "Watch the Closing Doors, Please" and "The Next Stop Is", became our private jokes and her favorite mantras as she improved her command of American slang and often used phrases, especially ones particular to New York City. It is reminiscent of my Spanish vocabulary, learned from the bilingual signage of the city. See No Salga Afuera here.

Lest anyone think we were overly critical concerning what looks like relatively benign behavior (from a city perspective) in today's photo, please realize that before this photo was taken, the girl had gone through a variety of antics including pressing her chest up against her boyfriend's face. The whole scene was over the top - only actual nudity would have upped the ante. The couple was definitely getting some serious looks from fellow subway riders, but in true style of the tolerant New Yorker, nothing was said by anyone - they watched the cavorting in silence. Although the man in the light blue shirt seen behind the couple was doing his best to maintain focus on his writing, being there in person it was clear he was disturbed over the entire incident.

On this occasion I happened to be traveling with my aforementioned companion and asked her opinion. To which she replied: "Get a Room?" Apparently, she was learning very quickly. "Yes", I said, and perhaps "The Next Stop Is" a place for them to "Get a Room" :)

Note: For those unfamiliar with the phrase "Get a Room" - from the Urban Dictionary: Derisive or humorous comment said to couples engaged in heavy-duty PDA that means your wanton lust is making me uncomfortable (or jealous). The implication is you should get a motel room because you're practically doing it [sex] here.

Water Taxi

I love the island and aquatic nature of New York City. The waterways of New York are a great way to experience the city with unobstructed unique vistas. They offer a nice respite from city traffic and crowds and give a real feeling for New York City's historical importance as a strategically located harbor.

Ferries were at one time one of the most important methods of getting around New York City, particularly from borough to borough. From the New York Times:

Before the completion of the Brooklyn Bridge in 1883 and the opening of the first trans-Hudson railroad tunnels in the early 1900's, ferries were a huge business, crowding the rivers like cars on rush-hour highways. By 1904, according to Brian J. Cudahy, the author of ''Over and Back: The History of Ferryboats in New York Harbor,'' there were 147 ferryboats carrying 200 million passengers a year.

When Anthony Trollope visited the city in the 1860's, for example, he noted that ferries left from Brooklyn as briskly as every three or four minutes, like the subways that were to replace them in a generation.

But by 1955, with countless trains and the automobile in its ascendancy, the number of ferries had dwindled to 57. By 1975 there were only 9 left, most of them part of the city's aging Staten Island fleet.

Although the idea of ferry travel may be romantic, recent attempts at resurrecting ferry service in New York City have been plagued with problems - reading through past articles about New York Water Taxi, you will find one story after another about service suspensions, inadequate ridership, funding problems and an aborted start in 1997 - see story here.

One difficulty with water taxis is that stops are at water's edge and thus for many travelers, particularly in midtown Manhattan, this means either a long walk or second method of transportation to get to their destination. In other cases, like the free ferry to Ikea in Red Hook, Brooklyn, Wall Street, Dumbo, the Chelsea Piers or South Street Seaport, the ferry stop is right at the doorstep of the destination.

I do hope that New York Water Taxi survives and the water taxi services flourish :)

Photo Note: This is the storage area for New York Water Taxi's fleet in Red Hook, Brooklyn. The boats sport the classic yellow checker cab motif. The company, started by Tom Fox and Douglas Durst, offers sight seeing and commuter service. For a map of their service, see here.

During the summer they offer a Hop-on/Hop-off service on weekends with unlimited travel for a flat daily fee. Private charters are also available. In 2008, the company purchased Circle Line Downtown.

New York is Tennis Country

New Yorkers are accustomed to finding amenities in the most unusual places. Virtually every piece of real estate is utilized and maximized. In Little Stuff, I wrote of New York City's very broad range of products and services, including those things providing the everyday needs most visitors rarely notice and often ask about, like gas stations and supermarkets (see my story American Express here).

Many of the services and establishments catering to residents that do not need prime real estate locations are sometimes located off the beaten path and shoehorned into whatever space works. They become destinations and they can be found here and there if not everywhere.

The most challenging services to provide are activities that require a lot of SPACE to be utilized by a few at one time. Like tennis.

There actually are 500 public tennis courts across the five boroughs run by the City of New York and the costs are extremely nominal. However, demand is great, permits and scheduling are necessary. Using them requires patience, planning and the ability to deal with limited times/availability and the occasional disappointment.

Money buys convenience and for those with lots of money, there are a handful of private tennis clubs in Manhattan (rates can run $100 per hour.). One of the largest facilities in the city, shown in the photos, is the Sutton East Tennis Club at 488 East 60th Street. An inflated bubble encloses the club and is located under the 59th Street Bridge - see additional photo here. The courts are open year round 7 days a week from 6AM to 11PM.

Lest we forget, New York City is also home to the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center at Flushing Meadows–Corona Park, Queens, the world's largest public tennis facility and also the official venue of the U.S. Open. Everything considered and in spite of the relative invisibility of all the tennis facilities the five boroughs has to offer, it would not be unfair to say that New York is Tennis Country :)

Note: Thanks to Sutton East Tennis Club for their graciousness in allowing these photos to be taken. For their website with information about the club, classes, rates, etc., see here.

Tanoreen

While my friend and I waited for our meals, we spoke about home cooking - that there are often food dishes common to a region or group at home but do not find their way to restaurants. The region of northern Maine where I grew up has a number of food dishes which we absolutely loved, yet I have never seen on a menu anywhere. And there are twists on traditional dishes unique to a particular kitchen. There are places however, where the restaurant style is true home cooking and that's the secret to Tanoreen.

However, we were prepared for a letdown. How could any place live up to all the buzz and an entry vestibule covered in awards? - see here. Plus this was my third visit. The first two I was turned away - there were no tables available at all. I was told reservations were best for any night. But for a Middle Eastern restaurant in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn? Clearly it made sense to lower one's expectations and abandon all hope for those who enter here.

Talking to diners next to us and glancing around the room confirmed that this place is a destination - we were not the only patrons who had traveled to come here.

The food selection was truly exotic - I have been eating Middle Eastern food for decades, but most of the menu was completely foreign to me. I decided to go for the fisherman's special made with red snapper.

In a rare preemptive strike, our waiter assured my friend that if he did not like his dish (new to him), it would be replaced with something else. That shows some extraordinary confidence and and we were beginning to raise our expectations.

We had heard much about the owner and I hoped to get a glimpse of the owner/chef, Rawia Bishar, who hails from Bethlehem and whose Palestinian home cooking was inspired by her mother. I had already ruled out the possibility of meeting her - the place was packed. But, in an unexpected coup de grâce, Rawia not only entered the dining room, but made table rounds. I had an opportunity to complement her on the superb cuisine and chat. I gave names of other owners of Middle Eastern restaurants where I had eaten over the years, past and present - she knew them all.

Most Middle Eastern restaurants serve up the standard fare - hummus, falafel, baba ghannuj etc. Some, like First Oasis Restaurant or Moustache, go much further. Tanoreen was a real dining experience and exceeded my expectations and met my hopes :)

Note about Tanoreen: The restaurant is located at 7523 3rd Avenue in Bay Ridge Brooklyn. The name is from a song, Tanoreen, by Lebanese singer Fayrouz. See the Tanoreen website here.

Someone is There

If today's photos look rather unassuming, welcome to another episode of Content is King (see here). This is one of New York City's best examples of all work and no fanfare.

This nondescript, 9 story building at 510 East 62nd Street, sandwiched between the back of the Bentley Hotel and the FDR Drive, is home to the Animal Medical Center, a place that for the last 100 years has been "the place to go" for emergency animal care and treatment of exotic pets. It has been best known for those who want to treat their pets and money is no object.

The Animal Medical Center is not just a veterinary clinic, it is is a full blown hospital with MRIs, CT scans, radiation therapy, cancer treatment, hemodialysis clinic for pets with kidney disease and rehabilitation clinic with an underwater treadmill. There is a full range of specialties - dermatology, diabetes, endocrinology, hematology, neurology, oncology, radiology etc. There is an Avian and Exotic Pet Service which treats birds, rabbits, ferrets, guinea pigs, turtles, snakes, lizards and small rodents.

One of the huge pluses here is that the hospital is open 24/7 and anyone can walk in for emergency care at any time without an appointment. Until very recently, the center has essentially been the only game in town. But recently, competitors have entered the arena: NYC Veterinary Specialists and Fifth Avenue Veterinary Specialists, both offering a 24 hour emergency room and high tech equipment. See a New York Times article here on the competition.

Experiences at Animal Medical Center are extremely varied - pet owner reviews range the gamut. Many feel that the center has rested on it laurels a bit too long. Some are furious; others sing nothing but the highest praises. With so many vets, interns and patient load, it can be expected that patient experience will vary. A frequent complaint is the high fees generally incurred there. However, it should be understood that many of the procedures taken are not typically done for pets at all and have the same costs as those done for human patients. Ironically, I also see many negative reviews and similar complaints for the NYC Veterinary Specialists, surprising for the new man on the block.

Pet owners are a very touchy bunch - many are intolerant of the anything less than the best care and attention. AMC is a large facility and definitely has a bureaucratic feel with layers between the pet owner and doctors. Long hours in the waiting room, a more impersonal reception and surprises at the cashier's window, although not excusable, are also not surprising with such a large operation in a big city and an international reputation. News has it that there will be a campaign to improve patient relations. Everything said and done, it is still comforting that places like this exist and that day or night, when there is an emergency, someone is there ...

Photo Note: The photo at the lower right is from the AMC website.

Guastavino

Would you like to do your grocery shopping in a space with the grandeur of a cathedral? Welcome to the Food Emporium at Bridgemarket, nicely tucked under the Manhattan approach to the 59th Street Bridge.

The Bridgemarket was originally an open air market in the early 1900s until the the 1930s, when it became a New York City Department of Transportation facility. The vaulted space was designed by Austrian-American architect Henry Hornbostel and engineer Gustav Lindenthal. It languished unappreciated and unloved until 1977 when Hardy Holzman Pfeiffer Associates first presented plans for a market. Renovations were begun in 2000. It is now occupied by the Food Emporium (seen in the photo), Guastavino restaurant, a Conran furniture shop and a public plaza.

The real pièce de résistance here are the vaulted ceilings covered with Guastivino tiles. Rafael Guastavino (1842-1908), an architect from Barcelona, came to New York with his son in 1881 and in 1889, founded the Guastavino Fireproof Construction Company. It was initially run by Rafael and later his son with its final contract completed in 1962.

The Guastavino tile arch system uses a timbrel or Catalan vault of self-supporting arches and architectural vaults with interlocking terracotta tiles and mortar. The Guastavino company eventually held 24 patents for the system.

Hundreds of historically and architecturally important buildings use his system - Grand Central Terminal (particularly the Oyster Bar - see here), Grant's Tomb, Carnegie Hall, the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, the Elephant House at the Bronx Zoo and the Ellis Island Great Hall. Guastavino's first major project was in 1888, when he was hired by McKim, Mead & White to produce the vaulting for the Boston Public Library.

Using publicly available and architecturally beautiful structures for day-to-day tasks is one of the unique things about New York City - shopping in the old Scribners Bookstore on 5th Avenue, dining in a former bank with high ceilings the Blue Water Grill at Union Square like that occupied by Balducci in Chelsea, staying in historic hotels like the Waldorf Astoria or the Plaza, walking across the Brooklyn Bridge or just catching a train in Grand Central Station. There are many things to see and do in New York City, but as I explore, I'm keeping an eye out for one name, Guastavino :)

El Barrio

One defining characteristic of New York City is its ethnic neighborhoods, some indelibly stamped with the signature of one or more ethnic groups.

And acronyms for neighborhoods are the clearest sign of gentrification. Once you have a catchy name, like SoHo, you can hear it used as the real estate broker's refrain. The utterance of all those wonderful little neighborhood nicknames - NoHo, SoHo, Dumbo, Tribeca, NoLita, RAMBO, GoCaGa, BoCoCa, etc.- are meant to give comfort to the prospective property buyer or renter that the neighborhood has arrived and is now officially hip.

In Spanish Harlem (SpaHa), it is not so clear that the ship has yet come in. This area is still plagued with lack of services and crime, even though there has been an influx of tenants seeking cheaper pastures and the neighborhood is sporting a number of upscale shops. There is a lot of tension here as gentrification threatens low income and long time residents. Read article about the neighborhood here.

An irony in this city is the abutment of neighborhoods with very different demographics and household incomes. The Upper East Side is one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in New York City and in the United States. Its northern boundary is generally considered to be 96th Street, where, ironically, Spanish Harlem begins. As one approaches 96th Street, you can feel things change quite rapidly and passing through it is like crossing a continental divide into a very different land. Shops, amenities, foods, and signage cater to the Hispanic community, easily seen once you enter El Barrio ...

Benefactors of History

Although black and white photography is clearly a result of the historical/technological development of photography, it is interesting to note that its continued use has not been solely related to the momentum of historical precedence or the cost. Color photography dates back to 1861, black and white 1822. Black and white continued to dominate even after color film was readily available - cost was a big factor, but there is a classic look preferred by many photographers for certain applications such as portraiture and its use in film or TV, such as film noir or Rod Serling's Twilight Zone.

There is certainly a cult phenomenon around black and white and those who shun color for what they believe is an artistic superiority of the media. Many devotees find color a distraction from the subject and that the lack of color forces the viewer to look at other elements more closely - form, line etc. Also, many see black and white as more dramatic and better capturing a mood than color. Portraiture, weddings and head shots are areas where black and white still continues to have an important role, often supplementing color.

Of course, many of those hope that the use of black and white will immediately confer a sense of authenticity and historical significance to their photos.

Typically, advancing technology improves a craft. Sometimes, however, the early limitations of a technology conspire for the greater good. People hearken back to that early technology, not only for romantic reasons, but because under certain conditions, the older tools and techniques produce a superior result to newer technology. This can be seen in many areas. I am certainly not saying that black and white is superior to color - I love color and prefer to shoot in color. The world is in color. But there is a place for black and white and we are the benefactors of history ...

About the Photo: Pylones is a gift shop featuring housewares, inspired by the elements of childhood - bright colors, bugs with a strong cuteness factor. Here you will find an creative selection of items - for the office, kitchen, beauty, decoration, jewelry, tools and of course for children. Pylones is a small international chain founded in France in 1985 by Alan Ceppos and Frédéric Rambaud. There are 5 shops in the US (all in New York City) and locations in Brazil, Asia and Europe. They also distribute their product to other shops. You can see their website here.

I don't think Pylones or its products work in black and white :)

Related Postings: Coup de Grâce , Tale of Two Colors, Hispanic Day Parade, Color Brigade, Flamboyant,Building Gone Wild, That's Quite a Briefcase, Fashion Forward, Taste, Krishna Festival, Police Riot Concert, Narcissism Gone Wild, A Colorful Life, "Who See the Red"

Tangerine Dream

It was rumored that there was a little underground coffee house in the basement of a church. Inconceivable. Where high school students could actually go and "hang out" without supervision. Inconceivable. My best friend told me about it and even gave me its name - Tangerine Dream Coffee House, so perhaps it could be true.

I had to knock on a hatchway door - he opened it. Down I went and sure enough, there was a place I never imagined could exist in a blue collar factory town. There were no Starbucks at that time and certainly nothing resembling a cafe. The only place to take a girlfriend was a parent's home or the parking lot of a fast food restaurant.

The coffee house was atmospheric and darkly lit. Teenagers were everywhere on comfy couches and chairs. A few were even kissing. Appropriately, the Moody Blues were playing.

This was my introduction to cafe society. Even if only for a brief moment, the romance of it all was so overpowering and so absolutely cool. However, it would be some time before I would live in a world where there were as many cafes as any man or woman could desire.

New York City.

Ironically, I never spent much time in cafes once I got here. Initially, as a younger person, there was the money. Romantic as it might be, many of us could not justify paying to sit in a cafe. And the city had so many free things to offer and still does. Also, cafes were less relaxed regarding long use and small expenditures. There were no self service cafes, so waiters had to be contended with. Starbucks and the Internet changed the landscape. Like it or not, it is difficult to compete in the cafe business today without being extremely lax regarding a patron's usage. Some have rules about power usage, hours for laptops etc. to limit excessive parking.

I have more recently embraced the cafe and savor the ambiance I once felt that night in the church basement. I encourage you as well to enjoy a special part of New York City. And you can enjoy them any night at all in hundreds of places. I am very glad to have them, because that basement coffee house is long gone and I need more than a Tangerine Dream ...

Note: The shop in the photo is Doma Cafe at 17 Perry Street in the West Village. Doma means “at home” in Czech. The atmosphere is casual if a bit busy, crowded and understaffed. But there are lots of books and reading. They have a food and beverage menu.

Really Smart Guys

The big secret about the Flying Karamazov brothers is they are a bunch of really smart guys. I am privy to many of their offstage accomplishments and academic achievements, because [disclaimer here] - they have been customers of mine for over 30 years (see my connection here and here.) Knowing this about them, it will come as no surprise to see an old tag line: "Juglito ergo sum" - I juggle therefore I am.

What is no secret, is that they are also very talented performers. They are not brothers, they do not fly (only the objects do) and they have no connection to Dostoevsky, although there character names are based on the novel - Alexei (Mark Ettinger) their resident musician, composer and conductor. Pavel (Rod Kimball) is master juggler. Dmitri (Paul Magid) is the writer, director, and founder. Maximov (Nick Flint) is media savant. Zossima (Stephen Bent) is exceptionally tall.

The show is well crafted and the members are highly skilled jugglers as well as musicians/composers and writers. This has been the case throughout their long career, which has included a number of cast member changes.

The troupe was formed in 1973 on the streets of Santa Cruz, California. Paul Magid is the only remaining original member. The other original members were Howard Patterson, Tim Furst and Randy Nelson. Read more about them at their website here.

The award winning troupe has performed internationally, with credits too numerous to list here and include Lincoln Center, Broadway, the Brooklyn Academy of Music, TV and film. They have produced a number of shows, all built around their juggling and musical skills. One show, built completely around music, Sharps, Flats and Accidentals, was performed at Lincoln Center.

One routine which builds throughout the show is known as the Terror trick. Over the course of the program, nine objects are introduced (a cleaver, a torch, a salt shaker, a ukelele, a skillet, a fish, an egg, a block of dry ice, and a bottle of champagne) and juggled as the finale - with the fish and the egg ending up in the skillet and the pouring of the champagne into glasses.

The other perennial favorite is the The Gamble in which "the Champ" (Dmitri) will attempt to juggle any three items provided by the audience. This challenge is well known to many attending their shows - they have seen just about everything and the Champ is rarely stumped. The three objects are chosen by the audience's applause from the collection on stage. There are rules however. The object:

Must weigh more than an ounce (28 grams)

Must weigh less than 10 pounds (4.5 kg)

Must be no bigger than a breadbox

Must not be a live animal

Must not be able to stop the "Champ" from being a live animal

The Champ is also permitted to make up to three modifications to the selected items (in total). If The Champ can juggle the items for ten continuous throws (in three tries), he wins a standing ovation from the audience; if he fails, he gets a pie in the face.

Their routines are peppered with wordplay and clever references, because, as we know, they are a bunch of really smart guys :)

Note: The photos are from their current show, 4Play, which is playing at the Minetta Lane Theatre in the Village. It runs until March 7, 2010.

Snow Play

A child provides one of the best excuses to play in snow and I often wonder whether adults may be more excited by the prospect of building snowmen and sledding than their children. But it is of no matter, because no law is being broken by adults who want to partake in this perennial rite of winter and enjoy all things snowy in New York City.

As I wrote in Design in White 2, tracts of unadulterated snow are few and short lived here, so those wanting to reenact their play days of childhood must, unlike our country brethren, act quickly with no deliberation.

As I passed through Washington Square Park in the early morning after our recent heavy snowstorm, families had already been busy with their handiwork. Snowmen were everywhere to be found.

Growing up in New England, playing in snow was one our favorite activities. As a child, I was bundled in a snowsuit and, thoroughly insulated, was sent out into that white winter wonderland for endless hours of frolicking. I would make snow men, snow angels and igloos; ride a sled, or I would just run, jump and throw myself with reckless abandon into nature's plush, deep white cushion.

All my antics and creations were applauded by family members who remained indoors, watching behind windows in their cozy habitat, signaling with gestures of encouragement and approval over any small thing or act. As I grew older, I became an audience member for my younger sisters, enjoying their play from the warmth of our kitchen.

Certainly snow is inconvenient and troublesome, particularly its removal in a large city such as New York. But I am going to put those practical thoughts aside for now, because as I write this, I am watching a parent pull his child in a sled through my window from the cozy comfort of my home, as I secretly encourage them in all manner of snow play :)

Anywhere You Want

Sometimes you get what you want, and on rare occasion, doubled. For a long time I have waited for an opportunity to photograph members of the New York Fire Department on one of their supermarket shopping trips. At a neighborhood supermarket, Morton Williams on LaGuardia Place in Greenwich Village, I had noticed that one company drove and parked a full size firetruck outside the store on a regular basis, did their shopping as a group and drove back to their station. The first time I sighted a group of firemen with their uniforms in the aisles, it was quite startling - everything about them seemed so large and imposing. The men are big, further enhanced by the bulky, protective clothing.

Post 9/11, photography is a much more delicate issue, so, rather than try a clandestine approach, I gave out a few cards and asked them directly about taking photos. They were very accommodating and told me that there were two companies shopping, not just one. I had really hit the jackpot.

There was a lot of joking and jibing between companies, particularly when I asked about the firefighter wearing a red helmet and whether it was standard gear. I'm not sure I got a straight answer - there was a lot of inside humor that I was not privy to.

Firehouse dinners are an international tradition. Long shifts and lots of down time between calls has resulted in many unique rituals. However, like any tradition, there are rules and protocols - who shops, who cooks, who pays, what to cook etc. with variations depending on the particular firehouse.

With a job providing such a vital service, there comes a few privileges. For the FDNY, it's a nice home cooked dinner and easy parking. Where do you park a full size hook and ladder in Manhattan? When you're the FDNY, the answer is - anywhere you want :)

No Squares Down There

I was so excited as I eagerly awaited my copy of City Planning According to Artistic Principles by Camillo Sitte to come up at the main branch of the New York Public Library. I must admit however, that I really had no intention of reading the whole thing - it was not available for circulation. I just needed to see it really existed, touch it and peruse it.

Sitte was an Austrian architect, painter, art historian and city planning theoretician. He studied what made a place charming. In his book, he extols the virtues of the irregularity of the medieval city. I have had numerous thoughts and conversations about what makes a city or town interesting - one element for me was the lack of order in the street layout. Nooks and crannies to be discovered. Like an old bookshop, where upon entering, you can not determine its layout and wandering through it becomes an adventure.

I relish neighborhoods or towns with the lack of a grid - meandering the streets of Florence, Montmartre in Paris, medieval villages of France or the streets of West Village. Sitte's book was the validation for everything I loved in a town or city and gave the reasoning behind why I find Greenwich Village one of the most charming areas in the United States.

The West Village is part of New York City predating the Commissioner's Plan of 1811 (see here). The maze of streets defy any real order - there are angles, triangles, bends, streets once parallel that now intersect and even a street that splits and retains the same name (Waverly Place - see here). Perhaps somewhat vexing to the driver or visitor navigating, its character is one of the things which drew me to this neighborhood long ago.

On top of all this, in 1917, the city cut a swath, 7th Avenue, through the existing neighborhood, shearing sections of over 200 buildings, leaving many triangular shaped structures (see Northern Dispensary here and Zena for two examples of triangular buildings).

We have become the benefactors of yesterday's victims. In the case of the Village Vanguard, its superb acoustics have been attributed to the triangular space. Some recording engineers and musicians say it is the finest acoustic space they know of.

Village Vanguard is legendary and on February 23, 2010, celebrates its 75 anniversary. The club was opened in 1935 by Max Gordon. Originally it featured many other forms of music and entertainment such as folk music, comedy and beat poetry. In 1957, it went became an all jazz venue. All the jazz greats have performed there - Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Sonny Rollins, Charles Mingus, Keith Garrett et. al. The club is also noted for its Live at the Village Vanguard sessions. The Vanguard still enjoys a reputation as a place to hear the finest jazz in the world. Through the red door and fifteen steps down to the triangular basement space. No squares down there :)

World of Gray

If you want to experience the gritty side of New York City, ride the subway, the ultimate tesl of will, fortitude and tolerance. Better yet, try it on a hot summer day where the non-airconditioned subway platforms are suffocatingly hot and virtually intolerable.

And it is gray.

You can spend your time waiting on the platforms by reading or perhaps observing your surroundings in various shades of gray - the concrete, chewing gum or perhaps the charcoal gray of the subway tracks themselves and the occasional rat in camoflauge gray. In this world of gray, we have brightly lit subway cars each with its own captive audience trapped for periods of time in steel boxes, subject to all and any who want to sell goods, rant, beg, preach, or perform in any number of ways.

The appearance of singers is met with a variety of responses. Some riders, bored with the every day grind, welcome music as a pleasant break from the monotony. Others, perhaps engaged in reading, listening to music of their own or just enjoying some "quiet" time, resent the intrusion, analogous to cigarette smoke in public/common spaces.

And, of course there is the issue of quality and selection - there is no standard of quality for subway entertainment and unlike any other media delivery system, it can't be turned off or the music selection changed.

I found the a capella group in the photo to have been much better than average. However, I had the feeling that I was in the minority who enjoyed this band of wandering minstrels, who timed their routine, moving from car to car after each number and collecting money. Perhaps I was just in the right mood at the right time, because for a moment, I found a little relief in a world of gray ...

Note: For a hysterical bit by comedian Lewis Black on gray days, go here.

BAPE, Wangsters and Hypebeasts

A story was already forming in my mind as soon as I saw this Billionaire Boys Club shop in SoHo at 456 West Broadway. I was going to write how, in my experience, you can not manufacture or create a cachet, a sense of exclusivity or a cult following. That these things have to develop organically over time with proven product or content.

That the name of this store reminded me of Members Only jackets and the belief that the mere proclamation of exclusivity was enough to confer it. Ironically I have learned that there is a cult following for Members Only jackets.

But perhaps the nature of time itself has changed and the definition of natural evolution.

There is a lot of talk online amongst marketers about creating BUZZ - i.e. the very thing that traditionally was something that came naturally as a product, service or company proved itself over time. But no one has the time or patience for natural evolution. And there is the reality of an extremely dynamic world market with rapidly changing tastes, global competition, love of new things and technologies to display everything instantaneously.

Can you brand, market and with enough muscle, jump start an image and reputation? It certainly has been tried with varying degrees of success. One big key of course is the leverage applied using notable figures, either as customers or the company ownership. Another technique is to limit quantities and sell at high prices. These ingredients obviously do not guarantee success, but as a business model, it makes more sense than a me-too approach and competing on price against established merchants.

Billionaire Boys Club and Ice Cream are two lines of high-end sportswear established in 2005 by Pharrell Williams of The Neptunes and Nigo, designer of the clothing line BAPE and founder of the company in 1993. So, to further complicate this story, we do have some legacy here, not just overnight buzz.

In reading reviews about the Billionaire Boys Club and Ice Cream, I became lost in an endless chain of hypertext links of brands, products, stores, people and words unknown to me. A review from Yelp.com:

Yes folks, this even outdoes the BAPE toilet paper as an all time low. ... A virtual ghost town of hypebeast products and overstaffed employees was all I witnessed.

So I need a new vocabulary. Once I learned that BAPE, A Bathing Ape, is a clothing line, SoHo store and an adjective, and I learn the meaning of hypebeast, my education is far from complete. Looking up BAPE in the Urban Dictionary returns seven definitions including:

A Played out Brand by Nigo from Japan, rocked by wangsters and hypebeast.

Now I had to learn what wangsters are. Fortunately, I have review sites, forums, blogs and the Urban Dictionary. I have a lot of reading to do :)

Note about the store: The ground floor features Ice Cream and the second floor, which resembles the interior of a space ship, carries the Billionaire Boys Club line. The prices are extremely high - Tees for $80-$100, hoodies for over $200 ...

Martin Luther King, Jr.

If you travel through Harlem and observe the street signs, you will notice a number with dual names - an older and more familiar on top and the newer below. The city renames streets for a variety of reasons. Subsequent to 9/11, many streets were renamed to honor those firefighters and police officers who lost their lives in service to the city during that event.

Other streets are renamed for groups or individuals that are honored for their lifetime accomplishments. This can be most readily seen in Harlem where many major thoroughfares have been renamed to honor prominent black Americans. These names include major black activists and entertainers. On my recent excursion to the neighborhood, I caught some of the heavyweights and photographed the signs.

On December 29, 2008, Mayor Bloomberg signed legislations renaming 49 streets and public places in the five boroughs. Some of the prominent blacks include James Brown, Drs. Kenneth and Mamie Phipps Clark, Zora Neale Hurston, Samuel J. Battle, Ella Baker, Charles Hamilton Houston, Billie Holiday, Paul Robeson, Count Basie, A. Philip Randolph, Susan Smith McKinney-Steward, Shirley Chisholm and Marcus Garvey.

There is one glaring omission in today's photo collage. While traveling down 125th Street, Harlem's main crosstown street, I was distracted observing all the people, places and things and neglected to look up and photograph a street sign conamed with a man virtually synonymous with African-American civil rights. Martin Luther King, Jr.