Many cling to the remnants of things whose lives are fast diminishing or have diminished – technologies made obsolete and things that technology has made obsolete. We look for stability in a world of change, and as physical beings, we like physical things – it gives us comfort. We are tactile, and for many a reader, the feel of paper and the benefits of print are still preferable.

One area in transition is that of books, newspapers, magazines and other printed matter. Perhaps it is a small act of defiance or display of iconoclasm, but the avid readers I know have all stated a preference of print over ebooks or other electronic versions of print media.

This year it appears that ebooks are having a serious impact on the print business. According to the Association of American Publishers, in February 2011, ebook sales in the United States for the beginning of 2011 were up over 200% over the same period in 2010 and were the top selling format in all categories for the first time in publishing history. This one-month surge is primarily attributed to a high level of strong post-holiday ebook buying, or “loading,” by consumers who received the devices as gifts. However, industry experts now feel that it is no longer a matter if ebooks will overtake print, but when. The shift may not occur as dramatically or as completely as did vinyl records to CDs. The tide will turn when critical mass is achieved, or the tipping point, as Malcolm Gladwell may have it.

Coming on the heels of this trend, my recent foray into ebook publishing (along with a purchase of a Kindle and Nook) and given the relative affluence of many New York City residents, it was ironic to see the row of book readers in today’s photo with not an ereader in sight (or was there one being used by the man behind the tree?).

For the avid reader, a library can be a source of pride and show that a lover of books and reading is near, with the selection as a barometer of interests. Guests can peruse and discussions are inspired. Works of non-fiction and those that are photo heavy can be shared and circulated. A work like Ulysses on the shelf makes a strong statement as well as lively discourse.

I feel great comfort and security surrounded by books. A library is an arsenal, with books as firearms and words as ammunition, all serving well to protect and defend against ignorance. What are we to do now? If I tell you that I have an enormous library all on a tiny electronic device on a coffee table and that I have read most of the books loaded on that ereader, will that be adequate evidence? Will you trust me or will you see me much like the huckster selling strawberries, whose refrain now you will repeat – who can believe it? 🙂

In the mid-1970s, Steve Mills, a young juggler from New Jersey, was creating quite a stir nationwide in the juggling community with his amazing skill set, even eclipsing seasoned long-time professionals. People were waiting for him in California at his first appearance at a national juggling convention.

I met Steve in 1975 at a free juggling workshop in the financial district of Manhattan. When I began to manufacture equipment for juggling, Steve became one of my very first customers, and his use of my products and introduction to working professionals was instrumental in my early success. He came to the city to street perform as well as for the weekly workshop. I got to know him personally and, as a Village resident, helped familiarize him with good spots for street performing, such as Father Demo Square and Washington Square Park.

One day, about that time, I received a letter that really stood out and which I still remember and often quote. It was a hand written order from a young boy in San Diego, California. He described the juggling clubs he wanted made with the size, weight, color and decoration scheme. But his real desire was made quite clear in one short sentence: “I want clubs just like Steve Mills.” Anyone familiar with idol worship can make the correct translation – “I want to be like Steve Mills.” Or, perhaps more correctly, “I want to be Steve Mills.”

I saw the same phenomenon close at hand in the 1980s, when an employee of mine began to frequent all the hottest clubs in the city. She was a social butterfly with a serious case of celebrity worship syndrome. Because of her extensive networking, I was able to get into these clubs, all notorious for their difficult admission practices. It was through her that I also met Keith Haring, with whom we licensed his imaging for a new product line.

There are many analyses of the psychological mechanisms operating in the fascination and obsession with celebrities. We chase them, examine them, dissect them. We do it for inspiration, to fill a void or for entertainment. Medical research has found that the desire to follow the leader and become like them is programmed into our DNA. In some however, this can become an unhealthy obsession. One aspect I saw with my friend, was a belief that somehow, merely associating with celebrities would have their greatness or achievements rub off on them.

Of course this is illusion and delusion, because no amount of contact with super celebrities will bring you closer to their world or give you what they have. Skills, achievements and fame cannot be transferred like electronic data, transfused like fluids via IV or absorbed through osmosis. I think I need to print a T-shirt (and wear it myself) that says: Please Rub Off On Me, Just Like Steve Mills 🙂

Photo Note: This is a capture at Spring and Crosby streets of celebrity chef Mario Batali with his signature red hair and orange Crocs (see Very Resilient here). He is the owner of Babbo (see here and here), involved in other restaurants and food establishments such as Eataly, and has had TV shows on cooking and food. Within seconds of my sighting, another photographer with a pro camera and massive lens asked to take a closeup, to which he happily obliged. A perfect set for Mario, bathed in a sea of oranges 🙂

I have an uncle who is the quintessential cynic, skeptic, pessimist, elitist, and oh, did I mention that he is also quite negative? He is extremely well read, so it puzzled me that with this bundle of character traits, he was not argumentative. We discussed this once, and his response, although a bit caustic, befit his character: “Brian, I never argue because you will find that most people don’t know much about anything.”
Wow. But that’s my uncle.

I must say, however, that there is an extraordinary amount of misinformation – bits of facts are blended with plenty of fiction and fabrication. In reading various online websites and forums, much of the speculation and conjecture as to the raison d’etre for tanks of nitrogen on the streets of New York City is hilarious and hysterical. It took quite a bit of digging to get nearer to the bottom, but the process of reading was fun.

Areas of science such as chemistry and physics are particularly mired in myth-information. Ionizing and non-ionizing radiation are conflated, as are chemicals with common elements but completely different chemistry and properties. Extrapolation goes wild too. For example, in reading about the street side nitrogen tanks, many were concerned that there was a warning against suffocation. However, this is not due to any toxicity but would only occur if someone were in an enclosed area and the nitrogen were to displace the air and, hence, the oxygen. Many were alarmed at the prospect of nitrogen being released, but ambient air is already 78% nitrogen.

All the confusion, speculation, and misinformation is compounded with the monumental mistrust of governmental agencies or corporations, so reading statements from Verizon does little to pacify. A source of information on matters of trivia, urban legends, and myths is the Straight Dope, a syndicated question and answer column by Cecil Adams, published in The Chicago Reader since 1973. Collections were published in book form and are also archived on the Straight Dope website. Adams has a history of digging deep to research questions. I did some reading there, but did not get a completely satisfactory answer.

Because moisture can damage cables, Verizon uses nitrogen to dry out its voice and data cables. Nitrogen is delivered via a small rubber cable fed through a manhole cover. But even many of the technical explanations appear incomplete. Most say that nitrogen is used to keep the cables dry. So why are these tanks only used temporarily, and what happens when they are removed? I found a more complete explanation from a former Verizon technician:

Verizon pressurizes the cables to keep moisture out and air flows through them constantly. What happens is this; as the air flows through a section of cable that is being heated by a steam leak, it rapidly heats. When the heated air passes by the heated section it rapidly cools, which in turn creates condensation INSIDE of the cable. Condensation inside of a cable with paper or pulp insulated wires will cause service outages. Verizon calls this a “steam section” or a “steamer”. The tanks are filled with liquid nitrogen, but Verizon uses the nitrogen in the form of gas because it is almost perfectly dry. This dry nitrogen is forced into the cable and through the section that is in trouble thereby absorbing the condensation in the process. At the next accessible point of the cable, beyond the steam section, a “bleeder” is placed to allow the moistened nitrogen to escape and not travel through the remaining length of the cable.

We are overwhelmed with an onslaught of information and resources. The online world of cut and paste research along with the viral proliferation of data has added to the confusion as well as clarification. Digging through it and sorting it out is challenging and exhausting. Why work harder than the rest? Just select the items you prefer from the a la carte menu of facts and fiction, and offer your own meal of myth-information 🙂

Payback, payola, quid pro quo, freebies, gratuities – New York City is mired in the various forms of “free” or discounts. The small business owner should express gratitude to the regular customer in some way. In the world of restaurants, policy and practices span the gamut in New York City, from one extreme to another. I am currently experiencing both extremes. In one case, a restaurant I have frequented weekly for over ten years has never offered me anything free other than the requisite water. Nothing. At the other end, a new restaurant I am currently frequenting has been offering me free appetizers and/or desserts at every visit for nearly a year. The owner is rolling out the red carpet, and I am being treated like family.

Free, however, may not always be the best thing for either party. I have given a lot of thought to this because of a very poignant incident that happened when I was much younger. At the time, I was making handcrafted items, and a close friend told me that he wanted to buy one of my products. I was pleased, and in the conversation that ensued, I mentioned that I would, of course, give him some sort of discount. To which he replied that he wanted no discount, but insisted on paying full retail. I was very perplexed by this and asked why. Isn’t a discount to be expected with business between friends? His answer still lingers in my mind today, decades later. No, he said, if you are truly a friend, then you want to see your friends do well and succeed. A friend should be the most willing to pay full price and refuse a discount. Of course, the individuals’ affluence relative to one another needs to be taken into account also.

This philosophy was echoed many, many years later, when another friend, who was a consultant and on the board of directors for a small performance group, told me that he paid for admission to all of the group’s performances. This appeared to be insane to me. When I asked why, his reasoning was the same as my aforementioned friend – he was a patron of the arts and wanted them to succeed. He pointed out that the idea of refusing freebies also serves the customer or patron – helping a business survive provides a continued source of a product or service.

The issue of freebies in restaurants, however, poses a dilemma with regards to all these issues of showing customer appreciation and the customer’s reciprocal support. Once an owner or staff member surprises with free food, such as an appetizer or dessert, it would be insulting (and perhaps wasteful) to refuse it. Insisting that it be added to the bill will most likely be met with refusal. And leaving an unusually large tip does not compensate the ownership, where ultimately, the act of generosity lies. So, in the case of restaurant offerings, I follow the advice of someone who once suggested: if someone offers you a gift, take it 🙂

Photo Note: This free piece of Tiramisu was offered to my dining companion and myself last night at Boyd Thai, a great little place that I wrote about in 2007.

You think you know tenacity? You do not know tenacity until you are acquainted with the Hands On A Hard Body competition and men like Benny Perkins and Philip Calhoun. I do hold tenacity in high regard (see my story Perfect Attendance here) – but the Hands on a Hard Body competition is horrifying and extreme.

In 1997, a documentary film was made about this annual endurance contest in at a Nissan dealership in Longview, Texas, where 24 contestants see who can keep one hand on a Nissan pickup truck for the longest time. No leaning, no crouching. There are five minute breaks every hour and fifteen minute breaks every six hours. The last one standing wins the truck. There are many repercussions, including hallucinations and worse.* The record was 92 hours and 40 minutes in 1998 by Calhoun.

Benny Perkins won in 1992. I first heard of Benny and this contest in a radio program and interview. A person that wins a contest like this is much more than just tenacious, perhaps a little frightening. This is best illustrated by Benny’s remark to one remaining competitor:
“I told Dan, the guy I was with, I said, ‘You’re standing next to the devil and this is the ride to hell. I’ll stand here ’til the day you die, so you might as well drop out now.”
When I heard him say this in his own voice, along with things like “You go slowly insane. Your mind has got to rest – the body can work 24 hours a day, but your mind has got to rest,” I had many thoughts, including just give him that truck.

If I had the tenacity of Perkins or Calhoun, perhaps I could have waited outside 125 Thompson Street with my hands on the door until someone came or left. For decades I have walked by this large nondescript building in SoHo, hoping for some human activity but only seeing the small brass plaque: 125 Thompson Street. Franciscan Friars. Province of the Immaculate Conception.

Some, who love a good mystery or conspiracy, might imagine something like the Illuminati, with a covert masterplan for a New World Order. Others, like my mother, would feel that I am wasting my time and that There’s Nothing Here. A phone call confirmed the more reasonable – that 125 Thompson Street serves as a monastery and offices for the local Franciscan congregation, who have been in the area for 150 years. The Franciscan Brothers are a tenacious group, working hard and quietly, living a life in the manner of Francis of Assisi to bring their ministry around the world and, like Benny’s admonition, trying to save others from the ride to hell…

*The contest was discontinued in 2005 because one contestant, Richard Thomas Vega II, crossed a street, broke into a Kmart store, took a gun from a case, and shot himself. His wife sued and settled in 2008 with Patterson Nissan of Longview. His wife alleged that the dealership was negligent in organizing and conducting the contest and likened the stress and sleep deprivation to “brainwashing.” She said the Nissan dealership failed to provide a safe environment for contestants who “temporarily lost their sanity.”

The title of the book was so unusual, that I still see the words on the spine sitting in my library: Horary Numerology of the Turf.
For the gambler or, if you prefer, the person who enjoys the occasional wager, New York City has not been devoid of betting opportunities, licit or illicit. Off Track Betting was legalized in 1970, and in time, hundreds of betting parlors dotted the city (in December of 2010, the entire business operation closed). And although not on the hit list of most tourists or residents, the city is also home to a major race track: Aqueduct in Ozone Park, Queens, serviced by its own subway stop on the A train. It is a convenient, affordable, and pleasant way to spend a sunny afternoon.

For a brief time I became very interested in horse handicapping, driven by my interest in mathematics and lured, like others, by the “easy money.” I foolishly believed that somehow the entire endeavor could be stripped of any horse hide and reduced to numbers, akin to the dream of many investors with approaches like Elliot Wave theory, Fibonacci series etc. I was never a gambler at heart, so my interests remained more academic, driven by the challenge of finding a credible method to gain some advantage. My attendance at the racetrack was very infrequent and betting even less so.

My library of books on handicapping horses ran the gamut, but certainly the most intriguing and arcane was that volume, Horary Numerology of the Turf, by Rosajo, published and printed in 1979 in India. The book had a look and feel of biblical authority. I am sorry to report, however, that Rosajo’s treatise was not a key to the promised land, and I soon learned that although a beatable game, betting horses was far from easy money, and the few that were successful invested their lives. Andrew Beyer was one of these.*

My interest in numbers has become eclipsed by other life concerns and much more casual, piqued at idle moments, most often when confronted with the numbers of New York City, such as subways lines or the streets. There are only 12 avenues in Manhattan, hence, there are 12 possibilities of intersections where the number of an avenue and street could be the same. And, in fact, there are only two such intersections: 1st Avenue and 1st Street and 2nd Avenue and 2nd Street.

I normally hate waiting for traffic lights in the city – I feel like each one steals 60, 90, or 120 seconds of my life. But here, at 1st and 1st, I can spend the time pondering the meaning or usefulness of the number 1. The unitary, solitary, and primary significance of the number one always makes me pause and take notice when I am at this intersection. Let’s see – both the first letter of Aqueduct and the A train stopping there share the first letter of the alphabet. Perhaps I should look at the the first race for horse number 1 🙂

*In 1975, Beyer authored Picking Winners: A Horseplayer’s Guide.
Beyer, a Harvard graduate and syndicated columnist since 1978, was, however, not a man with a casual interest in racing. He became interested when he was 12 years old. Many consider him to be the most important and best handicapper in America, with a rare, if not singular, ability to have profited consistently betting on the ponies using numbers. His once proprietary edge, now the Beyer Speed Figures, have become an industry standard, are incorporated into the odds – they are no longer adequate for beating the races.

When I came to this city, there were so many things new to me. 24 hour delis, bagels, ethnic foods other than Italian, tall buildings, subways, men who were openly gay, pizza by the slice, egg creams, Macy’s, and all the other icons I had seen on TV now come to life.

And prostitutes. This was a big curiosity for me and other friends. That women would openly flaunt their bodies and market their wares on the streets for all to behold. In the desolate area around the Lincoln Tunnel (shown in the photo), street walkers could be seen any evening, openly soliciting and discussing specifics and pricing.

Sex for money has now moved off the streets of the city. Targeted by the Guiliani administration and contained by Bloomberg, little can be found on the streets. I have been told there is some activity in Hunt’s Point, Bronx, and recently there has also been trafficking in child prostitution. But most activity has gone online to places like the erotic services on Craigslist, escort services websites, Facebook, and Twitter.

In spite of having lived in a city where such services were readily available, I have never sought out the services of a prostitute. Even though New York City is extremely liberal and permissive, the idea of being with a woman, even a consenting adult, in such an act of intimacy for money has always been disturbing and not right to me and everyone I know. I never have forgotten the one scene in the film Klute where Jane Fonda plays a prostitute. While faking an orgasm, unbeknownst to the man she is with, she looks at her watch – the ultimate graphic depiction of the harsh reality of prostitution and the business of sex.

On the streets or online, neither arena has been a temptation. Nor have the transgressions of former New York governor Eliot Spitzer with Kristen served as any fuel for justifying this behavior. None for me, please…