Slush Fun

Right now, the New York City streets and landscape are defined by the aftermath of the recent snowstorm. Invariably, talk of snowstorms here will include the dreaded melting and slush, analogous to the Mud Season of northern New England. So, it is befitting to end this week of snow related postings with the last phase of a snow accumulation now underway with the "blessing" of warmer temperatures.

At intersections across the city, pedestrians confront slush puddles, often large and deep enough to approach lake size and be quite daunting - it is common to see people standing in contemplation, paralyzed with indecision. There is jumping, pond skipping, circumnavigation while trying to locate firmer ground or even abandoning a particular intersection and trying another. For those attired in tall rubber boots, there is just walking through without concern.

However, extensive walking is the norm here and sidewalks are largely navigable without waterproof shoes, so for many, lugging a pair of shoes to change into or the prospect of wearing boots all day at the office are all unappealing. So, many tread the streets with footwear that really is inadequate for a world of slush.

As the slush to snow ratio becomes larger towards the end of a big melt, there is also the danger of heavy splashing as vehicles careen through slush. An unpleasant surprise, now you can enjoy the day looking like a mutant dalmatian. The seasoned native practices scanning and defensive walking and has learned long ago that there is no such thing as walking too far from the curb.

For someone living in New York City, there is a building and adopting of many defensive strategies, whether it is where to keep your wallet, chaining bicycles, protecting against auto vandalism (see No Radio), window glass etching (see here) or how to navigate on slush days. To the native, these become second nature, automatic reflexes. To the visitor or outsider, this panoply of life strategies is unfathomable and to many new residents, the aggregate number of inconveniences can be too much to endure - see my story Dwanna here.

Even for the seasoned New Yorker, there is certainly a level of internalized stress that is often not recognized until one leaves, temporarily or permanently. A close friend who moved from the city described this period of readjustment as decompression.

For those committed to being here, Happy New Year and join the Slush Fun :)

Gotta Shoot Village Cigars

There are many iconic photographic images of New York City. Typically I leave them alone - iconic for me translates as it's already been done and done well, you probably won't do it better or in a more interesting way. So, rather than look like a wannabe or copycat, I look elsewhere.

However, there are many, many subjects in this city that, given the right time and conditions, will lure anyone with a camera. Photos like that of Village Cigars in a snowstorm by Igor Maloratsky. A mysterious Hess Family triangular mosaic is set in the sidewalk in front of Village Cigars - see my story and photo here.

Village Cigars at 110 7th Avenue South at the corner of Christopher Street occupies a unique, tiny, one-story triangular building. This neighborhood landmark has been located there since 1922. It has been seen in film and there have been numerous images taken over the course of its history, in a variety of seasons, available in both color and black and white, as stock photos for advertising, art prints, greeting cards and photos sold on the streets to tourists.

Try as one might to exorcise those legendary photos from ones mind, similar conditions often acts as a trigger. Caught in a snowstorm while walking down Christopher Street with a camera in hand? Gotta shoot Village Cigars :)

Friends - Part 2

(see Part 1 here)

Meet Su Jung and read about our serendipitous adventure together. See my complete photo gallery here.

A young woman approached me, asking if could I take a photo of her in front of the building at the corner of Bedford and Grove Streets. As a photographer I always relish the opportunity to do this for a visitor. My puzzlement as to why this building was soon answered when she asked was this in fact the building used in the popular TV series Friends? I answered that I did not know (it turns out it is) but if so, it would certainly only be for the exterior shots only and that the balance would have been done in a studio. She appeared to be somewhat disappointed. This type of thing is a common quest and also the type of thing tours often feature. However, just seeing a building or location without the characters can often be a bit of a let down.

My second question as to why she was alone, deep in the West Village in one of New York City's biggest blizzards in history was also soon answered. Su Jung is a 22 year old engineering student from Korea, studying for one year in California and was visiting New York City for the Christmas weekend and had been trapped in the city due to a cancelled plane flight. She did have friends in the city with her, but they were uninterested in making the pilgrimage in a blizzard to accompany her.

Seeing an opportunity to brighten her day and at the same time have a companion, I explained my day's mission and asked would she like to come along. I got a resounding yes, so off we were into the streets and storm. I also told her of this website and asked would she like to be a story. She was delighted, so my time with her also included photos punctuating our adventure.

I now switched gears, turning this much more into a private tour, knowing full well that for me, any route would take me through snow laden environments and plenty of photo ops. I showed her my favorite spots including Commerce street, Cherry Lane Theater, Grove Court and Washington Mews.

However, I had planned to go all the way to the Hudson River, truly insane in this weather. Was she game? A resounding yes again. She did ask how far and I explained that in Manhattan, the river was never that far, with the entire island being only 2 miles wide and we were in fact only a few blocks away.

We went to the Christopher Street pier. The wind was howling with gusts over 50 miles per hour - absolutely frigid, cutting your face like a knife. The sun was setting, the lighting and atmosphere was dramatic. I pointed out the Statue of Liberty, the Verrazano Bridge, the financial district and New Jersey across the river where snow was being blown, looking like a sandstorm (see gallery). Su commented how waves were rolling in like the ocean. Even though she had a wool hat and mittens, she often felt it necessary to cover her ears.

On our return, I took Su Jung by 121 Charles Street, on of my favorite anomalies in the entire city (lower center photo) and then down Bleecker Street, stopping in renowned guitar shop Matt Umanov and Murray's Cheese. I followed with a jaunt through Washington Square Park which she had not yet visited with its Christmas tree still up.

I had a nagging problem however - a girl with soaked, cold feet. Like many, she had purchased Ugg-styled boots not realizing these were not waterproof. In fact, they operate more like sponges than protective footwear in wet weather. The situation desperately needed to be dealt with and she said she would try to find a place to buy new boots. In this weather I asked? Most stores were closed and she did not know the city. If she liked, I could take her up Broadway towards Union Square, where most likely David Z or Shoemania would be open. Shoemania was living up to its name - it was a veritable zoo with hundreds with the same dilemma shopping for footwear, appropriate for the storm.

Su Jung made a quick decision but showed concern about my time waiting. No matter - I was committed to seeing her through this and out of those wet boots. She made her selection quickly but was worried that she was taking the last size 4 and another woman after her expressed interest. No matter, I replied. You were first and your feet are cold and wet. There were no appropriate socks, however, so back out into the cold in wet feet, with Su Jung saying she would deal with this at her hotel on the upper west side.

I was bothered by this - my home was just a few blocks away and I agonized about suggesting the obvious which could certainly be misconstrued. But I asked - did she want to stop at my home, warm up, dry off, change her socks and then go to her hotel? I was surprised to get the same charming yea that I had gotten the entire afternoon. Arriving at my home on Washington Square North, I explained my good fortune to live in such an historic building overlooking a park (and my reason for living in the same apartment for 30 years).

Once inside, I attended to the first order of business: I gave Su Jung a selection of several pairs of socks and a hairdryer, suggesting she use it to dry her feet. She seemed very much at home, sitting in the center of my living room on the floor. When I suggested she could use a chair, she responded that she was quite comfortable there - she was Korean.

Afterwards we spent some time perusing my website. It was 8PM and we had been together nearly 4 hours. I suggested she may want to return to her hotel and friends. Another yea, and off we were to the subway where I told her that she was to take the C train only. A parting hug and off she went.

Overall, it was a remarkable day. Su Jung's incredible trust as a newcomer to New York City gave me an unprecedented sense of responsibility. Her joyous and adventurous spirit was truly disarming. No need to find a special building on Bedford and Grove or watch a TV series if you're looking for Friends ...

Note: Here is the email I received from Su Jung the following day:

It was the most awesome day in the last 3 days in NY. I couldn't ever imagine I would meet Brian and have fun looking around the real NY life that I could ever get by myself. I was kind of deseparate from the calcellation of the flight to LA cause I'd been thinking Cali was much better than NY. It seems like Californian in spacious and quiet area by oceans can afford to enjoy their life more than New Yorkers in the packed city. The 3days' itinerary was too short that I was traveling around only the main landmarks like Times Square and Wall street just crowded by tons of tourists around so I couldn't reveal the charm of New York. However, yesterday's journey changed my mind and I gotta love staying more days in NY thanks to the snow storm and it was 'no pain no gain':D. My feet were frozen by the watery ugg boots.

Friends, Part 1

I learned many years ago that recruiting a companion to go out into a blizzard was an exercise in futility. Although many can perhaps be persuaded to see the reasons behind such a venture, apart from children, very few are going to voluntarily leave the cozy confines of one's home to subject themselves to a blizzard. On one occasion, I had tried to persuade a girlfriend to go out into a blizzard with blinding wet snow, so strong it required goggles. The response was a very confident "no way" - understandable I suppose. Arguments aside, the facts speak for themselves - there are good reasons that the city looks like a ghost town in these conditions.

But my office was shut down, and although I had things to do indoors, this record-breaking snowfall really begged for some photography - a greatly added incentive to bundle up and venture out. A snowstorm this crippling is a rare phenomenon in New York City. Deserted streets. Even as a I write this, I have not heard a vehicle pass by in over one and a half hours.

I headed into the West Village, where I knew I would find the least adulteration of the snowfall. I was amply rewarded with sites that rivaled anything I have seen here in a long time. Cars completely buried and row houses so beautifully framed and adorned by snow, some still with Christmas decorations. See my photo gallery here.

At the corner of Bedford and Grove Streets, I stopped to take a photo of 17 Grove (previous story here), which was so exquisite with its wreaths in every window adorned with blue bows, each frosted with snow. As an added bonus, the owner had taken a moment to open the doorway and admire the winter wonderland outside his home. We spoke briefly in a way that bespoke of two people meeting in a small rural town. I so love this part of New York City, and the snow just gave it an extraordinary ambiance.

But this was not to be the day I thought it would be. Not at all. Across the street lies the building whose exterior was used for the filming of the TV series Friends. It is here that I would meet a lone traveler who would change my day...

Blizzard

In a city of extremes and superlatives and one that is a bit of a drama queen with a tremendous ego, a blizzard is one of many events that lets the world know - hey, we got that too. It's a media bonanza with tales of the stranded and acts of stoicism in a city that is virtually shut down.

We can however, only take credit for surviving it because like it or not, this is mother nature's call and we don't control the weather yet. So the event does not go as planned. Today's blizzard is a record breaker, the sixth largest in New York City history. We experienced high winds, 17 continuous hours of snow, heavy accumulations, 3-5 feet of drifts and even thundersnow. Central park reported 20 inches.

For the first time in memory, none of my coworkers have been able to get to the office. Service on some subway and bus lines have been suspended. People have been stranded in trains and in cars on highways. Some cannot exit their homes because of snow drifts. Streets are not plowed. Sidewalks are not cleared. Some have spent hours getting to their workplace in Manhattan only to find them closed, then returning home.

And of course there is the day off for many, an unexpected perk after a Christmas holiday and extending the weekend. For those not inconvenienced, and there are many who have been trapped in airports, trains and cars, it is an opportunity to hole up at home.

Once behind us and all is well again, it will be another feather in the cap of the New Yorker. That even here, we can survive a blizzard ...

Area Code 714

The Story of a thing Lost, Found and Nicole Dubuc. Part 2 (see Part 1 here)

Of course it was Nicole. A very, very happy Nicole. At one juncture in her profusive thanks, she asserted that she owed me a lot. To which I responded that she would have a way to repay me in a way she would not expect. Her response was a concerned OK.

I told her she could pick up her license at any time - at my office or elsewhere after work. Immediately is the time she chose and accompanied (with a male friend) is the way she came. I imagine my comment regarding repayment would concern anyone.

On meeting Nicole, she seemed relieved to find I was not a psychopathic serial killer but a business owner surrounded by people and immersed in the throws of the holiday season. After a brief tour, I made my proposal: could I take a photo of her and do a story for this website? And would she agree to supplying some biographical details by email? She gave me her email address. I provided her with a biographical questionaire. I imagine all this was much more than she ever imagined, but she agreed:

FROM NICOLE'S EMAIL:

Thanks again for all your help with the license -- seriously, you were a lifesaver. Thank you for sharing your blog with me! I'm humbled and honored to be invited to contribute.

ABOUT HER EDUCATION:

I was born in Huntington Beach, California. I went to Yale University. I have a BA in English and graduated with my pre-med requirements fulfilled. Which means I can recite poetry while I apply bandaids.

Most of my work has been in the entertainment industry in one way or another -- I started out as a child actress, and then after graduating college (with a six month stint in the world of dot coms), I became a writer, with most of my work in animated tv series.

ANYTHING ELSE TO SHARE?

Well, I can tell you a bit about animation -- I love it. I watched cartoons as a kid and all through college. I knew the names of Pokemon way past the age where that is acceptable trivia. I'm very proud of some of the shows I worked on this year; "Young Justice," a new DC/WB show about the sidekicks of the DC universe coming into their own, and "Transformers: Prime," Hasbro's new computer-animated show.

WOW, SO I ASKED NICOLE IF SHE WAS A CELEBRITY:

I wouldn't classify myself as a celebrity, but when I was a child actress I was a regular on "Major Dad" and "Our House," which still occasionally leads to people recognizing me. Apparently I look exactly the same. I acted for 11 years in commercials, TV and movies before finishing high school and calling it quits for college.

WHY SHE WAS HERE AND HOW SHE FEELS ABOUT NEW YORK CITY:

I was visiting New York for fun! I hadn't been back this time of year since I was in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade (many moons ago), and I wanted to see the city in holiday splendor. This trip I indulged my Christmas craving by skating at Rockefeller Center, seeing the Rockettes, and cruising the windows at Macy's. I think I've been to New York over ten times (easy when you're living in CT), and I love the constant current of excitement that seems to permeate the place.

The biggest difference between the East Coast and the West Coast that I noted when I came here for college was that in California you got a free refill on your iced tea or Coke or whatever, and on the East Coast you were charged for it. To me, that can be extrapolated to say something about the cultures of the place: in NYC there's less space, less time, and you have to EARN your place. In CA, it's more laid back, more willing to accept you... But perhaps less sincere about it because it's so easily achieved. Or, you know, maybe I've just been going to the wrong restaurants.

HOW SHE LOST HER LICENSE:

I lost my license coming back from Babbo. I LOVE Mario Batali, and I try to eat at his restaurant whenever I'm here. One thing I'm really unfamiliar with is wearing a coat/scarf/gloves/hat when I'm going out, so I think in juggling all my belongings, my license didn't get as firmly placed in my back pocket as it should have. And, seeing as I skipped twenty blocks home from dinner because I was so happy with a belly full of boar papparadelle, it's no wonder it fell out.

AND WHY SHE BELIEVES IT WAS FOUND AND RETURNED TO HER:

Whenever we lose something in my family, we say a prayer to St. Anthony. I picture him as a very harried monk-like guy who rolls his eyes and says, "really?! What did you lose NOW?" He waves you away and says, "I'll see what I can do, alright?" So it was to the St. Anthony in my subconscious I turned to when I couldn't find my license.

A SMALL MIRACLE ON THE PHONES:

And I didn't realize it was missing until around 1 PM, since I was writing all morning. Earlier, I had called my mom, and during our conversation and my rundown on my amazing meal at Babbo, she noticed she was getting a call from New York. "Who else besides you would call me from New York?" she mused. We laughed it off and it went forgotten until she got my second call of the day, panicked and all thoughts of chianti banished from my mind. That's when she remembered your call and finally listened to the message. She called me back and it basically went like this:

Mom: I know where your license is.

Me (wondering if my mom's up-til-now-dormant psychic powers were suddenly making their appearance, and grateful they were): What?!

Mom (dramatic, as though speaking with spirits beyond): It's in SoHo.

Me: How could you possibly know that? Is this like a Miss Cleo moment?

Mom: This very nice man called. He said he found it. He's so kind, said he knew you'd be worried sick. You should call him back. See if he's single.

Me: MOM!!!!

Mom: You're the one who dropped your license. And who am I to argue with fate?

I'M GLAD YOU GOT YOUR LICENSE BACK. MERRY CHRISTMAS, NICOLE!

See Nicole's Internet Movie Database page here.

See Nicole's website here.

Area Code 714

The Story of a thing Lost, Found and Nicole Dubuc. Part 1

It was so obviously, cleanly and squarely placed on the sidewalk, it was begging to be picked up. So much so, that my friend Bill, who spotted the license, was concerned that perhaps it had been planted there intentionally for some nefarious reason. We found it on Washington Square North on my way my home.

I love the opportunity to do a good deed, but it was not clear what type of deed this would end up being. Undaunted as the the fool who rushes in where angels fear to tread, I picked up the driver's license* and examined the identity of the owner.

'Twas a Californian from Huntington Beach. I do love California, so this was not only an opportunity to do the right thing, but also to be an ambassador of good will and let it be known to those in the Sunshine State that New York is not a den of charlatans, thieves and ne'er-do-wells.

When arriving at my home my first priority was to do an online lookup. Nicole Dubuc was easy to find. However, in spite of an extensive website, Nicole had absolutely NO contact information whatsoever.

A whitepages.com lookup produced a Nicole Dubuc with matching address. However, in what was becoming a common occurrence, a companion website was offering additional information, including the phone number, for a charge. However, many a New Yorker refuses to pay a toll and prides him or herself on taking the free alternate road (see here). I was not going to pay for a phone number. At least not yet. And I am tenacious. But it was late. Off to bed. I would try seaching again in the morning.

On rising, I did a reverse lookup on the address instead of a name search and, voila, a phone number. I would wait a few hours until 10 AM Eastern Time before calling the California number. At 10 AM (7 AM Pacific Time), I made the call and was quite disappointed to get an answering machine. I left a detailed message, explaining that I had found the license and gave my cell phone and business numbers. I also explained that I would be carrying the license all day and would be at my office in SoHo where the owner could pick it up. Or she could arrange to pick it up after office hours.

I hoped that I had sounded as honest as possible on my message - who would believe that anyone would go through all this trouble? Why not just throw the card in an envelope and mail it back as all my coworkers suggested?

But I wanted to let Nicole know NOW that her card had been found and make unnecessary any efforts on her part to start the process of replacing her license. Also, as a traveler away from home, I was sure that a driver's license would be important.

As I ruminated during the day, an idea began to crystallize. I had visited Nicole's website and she appeared to be quite interesting. Perhaps this tale of lost and found, depending on how it played out, might make a story.

But by mid afternoon, with no returned phone call, I was beginning to have my doubts about getting Nicole's license back to her in New York City. The story was secondary. I was just ready to make a second and last phone call when, at 3:32 PM, my cellphone rang. A glance showed exactly what I was hoping for, a number with area code 714... (see part 2 here)

*For Nicole's privacy, some of the data on the license's image has been deleted.

Heard It Through the Grapevine

Many New Yorkers, like many Americans, have a love of things French, and in New York City, as elsewhere, we have imported as much of the culture as we can - the food, wine, language, art, film, fashion, style and architecture. Our biggest import of all sits in New York's harbor - the Statue of Liberty.

In many contexts, the very word "French" is virtually synonymous with class or sophistication. Of course the French are also a people that many Americans love to hate, a people who can be trying or difficult. When it comes to food, most are happy to put differences aside. French restaurants and pastry shops abound in New York. Casual French styled bistros or cafés, such as French Roast, however, are not as easy to find.

French Roast has two locations, one located on the Upper West Side, the other, seen in the photo, is in the Village at 78 W. 11th Street. They are open 24/7. One of the most interesting things about French Roast is that it is located on the site of The Old Grapevine Tavern (bottom photo). From the New York Public Library website:

The three story clapboard roadhouse was built in the 18th century and was located on the southeast corner of 11th Street and 6th Avenue. Originally a private home, it eventually became a saloon known as The Hawthorne. The 11th Street side of the building was covered in a gnarled old grapevine and by the early 1800s the establishment was simply known as the Old Grapevine. It quickly became a favorite destination for those wanting to get out of the hustle and bustle of the city (lower Manhattan) and head north towards into the open country (11th Street).

During the Civil War it was a popular hangout of Union officers and Confederate spies. Later, when the Jefferson Market Courthouse was built the local lawyers and politicians would gather there to talk business. Artists and actors also met there. It was the ideal place to get news and information, or in the case of spies and politicians, the ideal place to spread rumors and gossip, leading to the popular phrase “heard it through the grapevine”.

The vine died in 1883 and was cut down. The Old Grapevine Tavern was demolished in July, 1915 to make way for a six story apartment building.

It was missed after its demise. The New York Times ran an article: "Passing Of the Old Grapevine. Quaint Landmark Known to Artists, Actors and Good Fellows Generally is Torn Down."

Reviews of French Roast run the gamut. Whether it is food, decor or service, like France and the French, some love the very things that others hate. I find it a pleasant alternative to the standard diner for breakfast or brunch. From the New York Times:

These two restaurants are both open 24 hours a day, which means you can get bad food and surly service around the clock. Basically, they are diners masquerading as French cafes.

Some question the etymology of the grapevine phrase. Some don't like the French. Others don't like French Roast. I heard it through the grapevine :)

Stability In a World of Change

Professor Gurland (see here) once commented that one of man's problems was looking for stability in a world of change. Perhaps he was right and this is the reason we find such tremendous comfort in those few enduring icons, legacy businesses, products, and annual holidays and celebrations. And why nostalgia is so strong that we build bridges in our minds between past memories and present experiences with connections as cables.

In spite of all the dynamic changes in our world, New York City is a mecca for durable icons. People come the all corners of the earth to see the same buildings, bridges, and attractions that millions have seen before them.

Over the years in producing this website, I have photographed and written about the fantastic Christmas displays in New York City, known worldwide. Rockefeller Center with its tree and skating rink, Santaland at Macy's and the store windows - Macy's, Bergdorf, Tiffany's, Barney's, Saks and Lord and Taylor. Amidst all the business failures, there really is a miracle on 34th Street, where we find Macy's year after year and and the same Christmas theme, Believe (see here), with the only change being a digital display.

We travel, we search, we comb the recesses of our minds for the enduring constants. There's no better place and time than New York City at Christmas to find those very few things that allow us to Believe there is some stability in a world of change :)

Sirens of Convenience

I had a friend, Steve, with whom I shared the same sense of humor. Over time, we developed shtick that we enjoyed doing at every opportunity. One involved the creation of a character who did not care about money - a blowhard, someone like Ralph Cramden of the Honeymooners TV Series who has little but flaunts what he has to appear to be a big man.

Any time we were together, Steve would typically bring out this character without warning for maximum effect. "Mr. Dubé, I don't care about money. I throw it away. In fact, here's some money now [Steve would take out a bill]. I'm throwing it away. [he would crumple it and throw it to the ground]." His delivery and style was superb and we never tired of this bit.

Although this character was not based specifically on any New Yorker, it is not too far from how many New Yorkers appear to treat money. The incredibly high cost of business rents in tandem with incomes that are typically higher and the incredible convenience of services and goods all conspire to develop a very cavalier attitude by many New Yorkers concerning money. This leads to outrageous statements like: "Their food is ridiculously cheap. Salad is only $7.95 a pound" (see story here), or paying more for a product because you are too lazy to cross the street and go to a supermarket.

Recently, a friend and I noticed small pieces of Divine Organics Raw Chocolate Brittle for $10.89 each (see today's photo) in a local natural foods store. We are never daunted by prices in the city and extreme examples abound and surround us. Nonetheless, we found this product at $10.89 for a 1.6 ounce piece so outrageous (that's $108.90 per pound), it has become a source of amusement whenever we see it.

I've been to places, and perhaps you have also, where the value of money is taken very seriously, where even a dollar or 50 cents means something. I once ate at a diner in rural Maine where I asked for a substitution in a dinner platter. Since something of lesser cost replaced something of greater cost, the waitress actually volunteered a price reduction of some cents. I can't dream of such a scenario in New York City.

New York City is a seductress, with the sirens of convenience ready to lure you in. If you crash upon our shores, the easiest way to spare your life is with money. Just tell the sirens, "I don't care about money. I throw it away. In fact, here's some money now. I'm throwing it away." :)

Bergdorf Holiday Windows 2010

Although quite non-traditional, my favorite holiday windows are those at Bergdorf Goodman department store, with three exposures along Fifth Avenue and 57th and 58th Streets. They are highly imaginative and superbly crafted. The window displays are illuminated so they can be seen day or night. See my gallery of photos here. This year's theme is Wish You Were Here. From Bergdorf's website:

"Appropriately titled Wish You Were Here, this year’s 2010 Holiday Windows invite its audience to join David Hoey and his talented visual team on a journey through fantasy travel, sly visual wit and far-flung places. With an array of wild mash-ups of unexpected arrivals and departures, each window features visual influences as diverse as Roman mythology, 1940s Hollywood musicals, the original Penn Station, and the very first science fiction film."

This year Bergdorf also has provided a short behind the scenes video on the production - "Follow Me: the Making of Bergdorf Goodman's 2010 Holiday Windows." You can see the video, read about the window theme and its creation here and here.

See my previous postings of holiday windows and Christmas postings: Bergdorf Windows 2009, Witty Holiday, Bendel, Christmas 2008, Fifth Avenue Windows, Tiffany's Windows, Saks Windows, Santacon, White Christmas, Christmas Trees, Comfort and Joy, Believe, Nested Embraces, Dyker Lights, National Tree, Saks Fifth Avenue, Surly Santas.

Coulda Been a Contender

In my travels throughout the five boroughs, I see and photograph many things, but I am unable to get adequate information about some of these subjects. For this and any other number of reasons, I may not feel that they lend themselves to the type of stories I have evolved to writing in this website. So, today I have assembled a collection of photos that did not quite make the grade as far as individual postings, but, in the words of Marlon Brando, any one of them Coulda Been a Contender...

Photos (Left to right, top to bottom): Hess Station and building mural on 4th Avenue Brooklyn, Sohmer Piano Building, blue violinist under Washington Square Arch, Dumpling Truck in the Financial District, students painting in Washington Square Park.

Meetings With Remarkable Men

The Story of Professor Robert Gurland, Part 2 (see Part 1 here)

I was so excited yet frustrated sitting in that class. Didn't these students know they were with a living legend? Why weren't they hanging on his every word? It costs big money to attend NYU. Why was one student sleeping and another looking at dresses online and messaging on Facebook? Gurland was discussing the nature of evil - man's inhumanity to man. On the chalk board were the names Hitler, Stalin, Idi Amin, Pol Pot and Duvalier. What the hell does it take to galvanize students?

I was following his presentation and completing some of his sentences in my mind. I was flying. This was education at its best. The man's ability to communicate is brilliant, with a perfect meld of theater, anecdotes insight and passion, making the content accessible and relevant. No wonder he is a superstar educator with the highest student ratings, a cabinet full of letters (see here) and has been referred to as an icon for educators.

I understand we live in a world of information and sensory overload. However, I would find it extremely disappointing to be a man like Professor Robert Gurland, with all of his accolades, and lose to Facebook. When I expressed my outrage in my second interview in his office, he laughed and said "When I look at those Apples, I know that they're looking at a porn site on the other side."

The man for this job needs a tough skin and a realization that in this world, you often lose to competing interests in the classroom. Who better to weather this storm of our current times than a tough, New York City Bronx-born Jew grounded in reality and who knows how to take a beating?

I had taken a class with Robert Gurland circa 1970. Even at 9 AM, his classes were packed with sizes at one time of as many as 450 students. Historically his classes have been so popular that it became a problem in the Philosophy department - no one has wanted to take other courses. In the late 1990s, a part-time employee who was also an NYU student was raving about a professor. I was pleasantly surprised to learn it was the very same Professor Gurland who was still going strong in his unique style of teaching and making impressions with his indelible stamp. As the result of a recent inquiry, I discovered Gurland was still teaching at 77 years old.

I obtained his phone number and had a brief phone conversation - I was amazed that in spite of the fact that he has had over 25,000 students, he remembered my name and the class I was in - Practical Reasoning. I arranged an interview and to sit in on two of his classes. He was extremely gracious and permitted any manner of recording I wanted. I came armed with cameras, video and voice recorders. I interviewed Professor Robert Gurland twice in his office at 726 Broadway, once before and once after the two classes I attended. These were his last classes of the semester. I recorded both classes on video and 78 minutes of our dialog in his office.

We met in the lobby at 8:30 AM. His office door is open, but Gurland values his privacy and I appreciated the privilege of spending time with him. As we entered his private office, I felt electricity in the air - I had never been with Gurland outside the classroom. The ensuing conversation was charged.

In our conversation, I learned many things I did not know about this superstar of university teaching. We discussed his working class roots, his growing up in the Bronx and attendance at the Bronx School of Science, at the time an experimental school. At one point, Gurland showed me a photo of himself at 20 years old as a professional trumpet player. He recounted the litany of jazz legends he played with, such as Krupa and Dorsey. A small trumpet hangs from his neck. We discussed his personal life briefly. Gurland is married with one son who is a full time professional musician. When younger, Gurland dabbled in photography and won two Eastman contests.

Now a philosophy professor at NYU, Gurland has served as chair of the department. However, I was also surprised to learn that his first educational degrees were in mathematics, eventually culminating in a Ph.D and a tenured professorship of mathematics at Long Island University.

Do I over inflate Gurland's achievements and charisma? Not at all. Gurland has taught at many universities and has won best teacher awards at all of them. He has been awarded NYU's Golden Dozen Teaching Award numerous times and was the youngest person to get the alumni association great teaching award. He holds three MA degrees and two PhDs.

For a man like Robert Gurland, these are but milestones on a road that many others have taken but to a destination few will ever reach. There were a few students who lingered after class to say goodbye and express their appreciation for this great educator.

I am immersed in technology and spend hours online. I recorded Professor Gurland's classes using two video camcorders, a digital voice recorder and professional DSLR camera. But these are only tools. I was not distracted from Gurland's presentation and the special things only a relationship with a human being can bring to our world. I salute him on giving such spirited and impassioned lectures, even to empty classrooms - filled with so many students preoccupied with something or someone else. I am having a hard time this morning deleting those images of dresses and Facebook from my mind ...

Meetings With Remarkable Men

The Story of Professor Robert Gurland, Part 1

I came to New York City in 1969, ostensibly to study at New York University. But there would not be much studying, for this was not just any time. Political upheaval and violence was mixed with sex, drugs and rock and roll. There was extreme distraction.

The Vietnam War colored and dominated everything. Hanging on my dorm room wall was the iconic anti-Vietnam War poster, And babies, with its horrifying image of the My Lai massacre. Dead soldiers in body bags seemed like a daily sight on television. On the heels of the civil rights movement, Martin Luther King had just been assassinated in 1968. President Richard Nixon, a man seen to be so evil, in 1974 at the apex of the Watergate scandal needed to proclaim to the nation, "I am not a crook".

Some of the most seminal and notable music groups of the 20th century flourished at the time. And of course, there was Woodstock. This was a time of rampant drug use, particularly LSD. Timothy Leary had already commanded America's youth to "Turn on, tune in, drop out." There was fallout from these excesses. Music icons were dropping like flies, primarily from drug related causes - Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin and Brian Jones.

Sexual freedom reigned after the introduction of the contraceptive pill in the early 1960s. The spirit of the Summer of Love in 1967 permeated the culture.

Consciousness was being expanded. Everything was in question. Groups were beginning to vocalize and demonstrate. In New York City, there were the Stonewall riots in June 1969. The women's rights movement was in full force, on the heels of the birth control pill and Betty Friedan's revolutionary book, The Feminine Mystique.

There was the SDS and the Black Panther Party. The Weathermen, a small extreme group of radicals formerly from the SDS, had built a bomb factory in the Village and exploded an entire townhouse.

We had just landed on the moon on July 1969.

Study? In New York City?

It took an enormous draw to get a student into a classroom and keep him or her attentive. In spite of bullets flying in the world outside, there was one man who could do it. A legend in 1970s time and still today. In just a few minutes, across that park and behind those trees, I have an appointment to meet that man again, for the first time in 40 years. I can't wait. It's 19 degrees out there, but I won't feel it. Got to run. See you later. In Part 2, you will meet Professor Robert Gurland :)

Grab a Bite to Eat

Everyone has their pet peeves, and for me, it is taking too much time to eat when there are "better" things to do. And in New York City, there are always "better" things to do. This may sound very contradictory for a man who extols French culture, quality of life and the slow food movement. It is. But as a college professor once responded to me, when I detected some dissonance in one of his statements, "People are full of contradictions."

My frustration rises to crisis management when I am with people whose priority is eating over all other things and where no experience, no matter how exciting or exhilarating, will distract them from seeking food. I am in deep trouble when I am with these types of individuals in New York City, which is a literal smorgasbord of eateries. And typically, for these comfort seekers, eating on the run is not their preferred modus operandi - sitting and indulging is.

I had a relative who used to come to the city often and stay weekends. A refrain, which I can hear in my head to this day, was, "Let's grab a bite to eat." I became so irritated, because this was typically mid day, long before dinner, and we had an agenda of things to do and places to see. The "grab a bite to eat" always ended up becoming a production of an hour or more. Waiting, ordering, eating, coffee, getting a check, paying etc.

When very young, I had limited restaurant experience and thought "a la carte" was food offered on a cart, needing to be snatched quickly while passing by. The reduced service and quality of selections accounted for the lower pricing. This would seem a great option for New York, however, there are no carts to snatch from in restaurants (dim sum is close), so there is no way to really "grab a bite to eat." For the traveler or resident who does have the need to expedite a meal, there are places tailored to a quick bite, the most common being the New York pizza parlor for a slice on the run. There are other places, somewhat less noticeable, tucked into the nooks and crannies of the city's side streets.

In the Village, in the heart of NYU country at 6 West 4th Street, there is the Little Atlas Cafe. The place truly befits its diminutive name and is strictly takeout and delivery. There is just barely enough room for a few customers and the staff. The menu is quite extensive. Reviews vary. The place has a large range of vegan offerings, and many of the criticisms are from those who have specific issues with the vegan products. I enjoy their food, and for those on the run, who have no access to a fast moving cart, the Little Atlas Cafe is the perfect place to Grab a Bite to Eat :)

None For Me, Please

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 ...

Everything is Going To Be Alright

I was surprised yesterday to hear two young coworkers in their 20s listening to and enjoying the holiday tunes of Bing Crosby. I commented on how there was an extraordinary soothing quality to his voice that just made you feel that no matter what, everything is going to be alright. At my family holiday gatherings, Christmas isn't Christmas without the White Christmas of Bing Crosby.

Whether you see New York City as a melting pot or a salad bowl, pluralism is the reality and tolerance is what holds it together. New York City is where you will find the world's largest public menorah, located in one of the most prime locations in the entire city - 59th Street and Fifth Avenue, just a few blocks from Rockefeller Center's national Christmas tree and St. Patrick's Cathedral. In today's photos, the Christmas tree at the Washington Square arch (with views of the Empire State Building in the background) is just a short distance from a menorah, also located in Washington Square Park.

On one hand, pluralism has become much more prevalent in the United States and, in tandem with the doctrine of separation of church and state, it is not unreasonable to revisit the issue of public displays of religious symbols. Bing Crosby or not, we can't shut our eyes and sweep everything under the umbrella of the "holidays" or the "winter/holiday season" in an effort obfuscate the very divergent religious practices. Efforts are made to link Christianity and Judaism in an attempt to demonstrate that they are just two sides of the same coin.

On the other hand, as I wrote in Let's Have a Parade, celebration is part of the human condition, and to become a curmudgeon during the holidays and dismiss the entire season as nothing but crass commercialism (or to aver how many of the symbols and customs that are associated with Christmas were originally syncretized from pre-Christian pagan festivals and traditions) does nothing to enliven and uplift the human spirit and spread proverbial love and joy throughout the land.

Managing religious pluralism is difficult. Even the Supreme Court of the United States was very divided in County of Allegheny v. ACLU, where the court considered the constitutionality of the annually recurring displays of a nativity scene (crèche) and a Hanukkah menorah, both placed outside the City-County Building in downtown Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

I don't want to bury my head in the sand in an effort to oversimplify reality, be disrespectful and lump everyone together or paint the entire season one color. But for just a moment, please forgive me. I'm just going to relax, let Bing Crosby's voice wash over me and feel that everything is going to be alright :)

Ultimate Dream Machine

Flying has always been a metaphor for me. In Umbrella and Chevy, I told of my childhood passion reaching the point where I resorted to jumping off my family's Chevy with an umbrella, hoping for an uplifting experience, but only getting a slower descent. Later in life I did take a few flying lessons, but helicopters remained the impossible dream.

The helicopter is the ultimate vehicle of transport - they are the most versatile vehicles in existence, giving complete access to three-dimensional space. They can fly virtually anywhere and can hover. However, there is a price to pay. These machines are very complex, difficult to fly, noisy and require constant maintenance. It is possible for these aircraft to even vibrate themselves apart. In short, they are man's triumph of brute force over nature. And expensive for all concerned.

I was only in a helicopter once in Hawaii for a brief flight into the Kalalau Valley on the Island of Kauai. This was the ultimate adventure for the tropics lover - a pristine area of an extraordinary island in the Pacific accessed by man's ultimate vehicle. The trip was short and expensive, but exhilarating. The cliffs of the Na Pali coast on the north shore of Kauai are one of the world's most beautiful natural spectacles. The only surprise and disappointment was the incredible noise. Hearing protective headsets were given to us at the beginning of the flight.

So what better method of exodus and entrance to the crowded New York City metropolis than by helicopter, the only vehicle that can go from any point outside the city to the heart of Manhattan itself without suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous traffic? I once heard Bill Gates speak in Manhattan. As we waited his arrival, we were informed he was being delivered via helicopter. Other major VIPs such as Donald Trump and the mayor are well known for their use of helicopters, the ultimate transportation luxury. When the Concorde was flying into New York City, the flight included transport to and from the airport via helicopter.

I journeyed to the VIP Heliport with a friend who is the only person I know who has traveled into the city by helicopter. I made a special trip specifically to 30th Street and the Hudson River for this story. Apart from the greenway along the Hudson River, it is rare that anyone would be this far west in this part of the city.

At times, in spite of my love for this city, I do get island fever and the island of Manhattan feels like a prison of sorts. At those times, in spite of noise, vibration and danger of being in a complex contraption built by men using brute force over nature, I still fantasize about being picked up on the roof of my building and swept away in the ultimate dream machine :)

Afraid of Snakes

If you have read my story Jungle Lovers, you know how I feel about the importance of guidance and influence of children and how disappointing my own experience was growing up in a blue-collar town, where New York City was feared likes snakes are, the streets were said to be riddled with pitfalls every step of the way, and con men could be found around every corner.

I do not regret moving to New York City, I have not fallen into any pits that were too difficult to climb out of, and vistas like that in today's photo are in fact what I have more often seen around many corners. And I like snakes.

Icons like the Empire State and Chrysler buildings are visible from nearly everywhere. From 1931 until 1972, the Empire State Building was the tallest in the world. Although no longer the tallest building even in the United States, the Art Deco skyscraper still has icon status and is a metaphor for TALL (it is now the 3rd tallest in the USA and 15th in the world).

After a time, any resident or visitor to the city can become inured to the vistas and architecture of New York. However, along with the people, the structures of the city define our metropolis. Interest in architecture itself is often eclipsed by the dynamism of New York's many other attractions - restaurants, shops, clubs, bars, theater, parks, festivals and street life. So, it was very uplifting to see this school playground in Chelsea where models of the Chrysler and Empire State buildings are connected by bridges, decks, ladders and slides and serve as part of the school's outdoor recreation area.

This children's playground becomes a place to develop a familiarity with and appreciation of the architectural icons of New York City. And to learn that at least in this jungle, if you're careful, there is no reason to be Afraid of Snakes :)

Hanging Around

When I was in grade school, I became intrigued with the hangman's noose. It was easy to get the attention of fellow classmates presenting such a macabre artifact. It is extremely simple to tie but its very nature would keep most from even trying. Who would learn to make such a thing and why?

The entire subject of hanging is fascinating to some and its lure perplexing to others. The facts of hanging, its history, tools, technology and the anatomical and biological aspects of the condemned are all mired in speculation, exaggeration, mystery, misinformation and urban myths. The acquaintance I wrote about in my story Power, once claimed he had the hangman's formula - a supposed equation for calculation of rope length based on a person's body weight. In fact, such a thing does exist as the British Table of drops. The original table of the "Long Drop" or measured drop was worked out by William Marwood in 1872. A revised table was issued in 1913. In is still in use by a few countries to this day. You can read more and see the tables here.

The best case in point regarding the interest in hanging in New York City is the Hangman's Elm located in the northwest corner of Washington Square Park which stands 110 feet tall. In 1989, the New York City Department of Parks and Recreation determined that this massive English Elm dates back to 1679, making it over 330 years old and the oldest known tree in Manhattan.

It is still unclear how many, if any, individuals were hung from this elm in public executions which did occur in a nearby gallows - the only recorded execution was of Rose Butler, in 1820, for arson. An article in the New York Times sees some hangings there as likely but other sources cite it all as urban mythology. But the fascination with hanging still exists and the belief that this elm was used for hanging persists. It all makes for a great sound bite or tour factoid, giving the neighborhood just that much more historical color.

I have the privilege of seeing this tree from my home daily and much like the cat who brings home the dead mouse as a macabre gift for its owner, I offer my fellow readers this story and photo of the Hangman's Elm. Whether it's a tree, a noose or the Long Drop table, the fascination with this style of execution just keeps hanging around...

The Real Peel

David Peel's website consists of one page, however much can be gleaned from a quick read -

Favorite Band or Musician: David Peel & The Lower East Side

Favorite TV show: The Simpsons

Favorite movie: West Side Story

Favorite book: 1984 by George Orwell

Favorite sports team: Bonghitters

Favorite food: Ice Cream

Take equal parts of self absorption, political activism (with a hint of conspiratorialism), punk rock, marijuana and maniacal energy and you have David Peel. Born David Michael Rosario, the New York City based musician and activist began recording with his group as David Peel and the Lower East Side in the late 1960s. He is credited with being one of the early performers of punk rock. A tireless advocate for the legalization of marijuana, Peel's first album in 1972 was entitled Have a Marijuana. His discography is over 20 albums. He has been closely associated with the Yippie movement, Smoke-In concerts and the annual Marijuana March.

David Peel’s close association with John Lennon propelled him to celebrity status and helped pave the way for him to perform with top acts, such as Alice Cooper, Doctor John, Stevie Wonder, Dave Brubeck, Herbie Mann, Rod Stewart, Emerson Lake and Palmer, BB King, the Chambers Brothers, Joan Baez Frank Zappa, Iggy Pop and countless others.

Lennon recalled first seeing David Peel, and his street assembled version of the "Lower East Side Band", performing in front of a large crowd in Washington Square Park, in 1971. "He was shouting, why do you have to pay to see stars?" says Lennon. "I was embarrassed. I thought surely he must know I’m here. Yoko and I loved his music, his spirit and his philosophy of the street."

Ignoring the objections by "certain" former members of The Beatles, John and Yoko still signed Peel to Apple Records. Peel’s first effort for Apple was an album entitled "The Pope Smokes Dope", which immediately set off an international furor. The record was banned in nearly every country of the world, except for the United States, Canada and Japan.

In a memorable appearance on the nationally televised "David Frost Show" in 1972, John and Yoko let David Peel and his Lower East Side Band take the spotlight, choosing instead, to perform behind the group. John noted that Peel always wore round sunglasses that were a perfect duplicate of the glasses that had become John Lennon’s trademark and Lennon took to wearing Peel’s black leather jacket.

I have known David for years and see him frequently - his is a habitue of Washington Square Park. Always on a rant or rave, Peel's energy is truly maniacal. His lyrics can be caustic, angry and often spew hatred. The song he was performing in the top photo had a constant refrain, I Hate You. But do not be fooled by the theater, lyrics or politics. Underneath you'll find a warm and fuzzy, benign human being. That's the real Peel :)

Not Moving to Florida

I recall an uncle extolling the virtues of living on Eagle Lake in Maine in the winter, telling me how wonderful it was, about ice fishing and how you had the entire lake to yourself. Not to offend and retort aloud, I thought to myself - of course you have it to yourself, who would want Eagle Lake in the winter?

Although not as extreme, the seasons of New York City are never pleasing to me (see Weather Means Whether). I look forward to the Spring, the harbinger of all good things to come, but it is always a disappointment. It is often too wet, colder and windier than I would like. Flying kites or trying to sit on a park bench seems to be an exercise in hand rubbing.

But not to worry, summer is on the way, certainly the season we wait for and celebrate. Until we have a few unseasonably warm days in late spring and I realize that summer in the city will be oppressive, crowded with tourists and there is no respite from the heat without leaving - autumn and winter look very appealing now. After all, the solution to cold is quite simple, is it not? Just add more clothing. Summer arrives and all my worst fears and memories are realized. The teaming masses mixed with high humidity and relentless sun make New York City in the summer virtually unbearable. But summer is actually quite short and autumn is just over the horizon.

Autumn, however, is just a tease for what a perfect world might feel like (see Quito here) and a clear reminder that what nature giveth, it also taketh away. Days are often too cool to spend extended periods outdoors and we now have more of the hand rubbing of spring. Leaves are falling, things are dying and I am already fearful of the death grip of winter which is fast arriving.

Winter arrives and although we are blessed with little snow in the city, it is more uncomfortable than I remembered. The respite from the heat I wished for in July and August looks foolish now - what was I thinking? The holidays do provide a much needed distraction before the bleak stretch of winter starting in January. Soon I am looking to spring again only to reflect and reprimand myself for not enjoying what I had last year.

As winter closes in and I realize that every season in New York City has its shortcomings, the thought of other, perhaps better places rather than other seasons, rears its head. But I am a little wiser now. I have been down that road too. No, best I enjoy images of a foliated New York in summer, because, at least for now*, I'm not moving to Florida :)

* Interestly, my aforementioned uncle, steadfast in his commitment to Maine and its hard winters, eventually became a snowbird and moved to Florida late in life where he lived out his life.

Photo Notes: Top - The Dakota as seen from the Lake in Central Park. Center - West 4 th Street. Bottom - the Ramble in Central Park.