Sirens of Culture

One of the peculiar dilemmas of living in New York City is the compelling feeling that there is a world outside the city and simultaneously no desire to leave it. Often, particularly on a beautiful day, I have a strong desire to take a day trip and explore some rural hinterland to enjoy nature. Then, stepping out my door with a sincere intent to only briefly sample the city, I found myself shipwrecked again on the shores of Manhattan, having been lured by the Sirens of Culture. Often, I make it no further than steps from my home in Washington Square Park, a brewery of local and international talent.

I sit in cognitive dissonance, torn by the desire to broaden my horizons yet trapped by a menagerie of entertainers, the like of which is to be found nowhere else. Part of me feels that there must be more to life than this plot of 10 acres that landscape architect George Vellonakis referred to as America's Piazza. Not an exaggeration at all, the park is a meeting place for every imaginable type of individual from sociopaths, lunatics, misfits, geniuses, budding and established artists, painters, chess players, writers, photographers, intellects, local residents, and visitors. It is a place where the conversationalist can meet and engage in conversations on any subject imaginable, both privately or in forums.

Here, one can find snake charmers, hucksters, drug dealers, professors, political activists, and vendors of products and ideas. Some come to sell their philosophies, but this can come at a price, as when Mennonites meet topless body painted women or when Missionaries Meet Their Match.

However, the biggest draw here is the music, and with some luck, on a good day, one can find a virtual festival of professional talent. So it was that on Saturday and Sunday, I was lured in by the music of Jessy Carolina and the Hot Mess. I found myself listening for hours along with a large steady crowd who found themselves so engaged that many resorted to Dancing in the Streets. From their website:

Jessy Carolina & The Hot Mess is a New York City-based ensemble specializing in early American roots and jazz music from the late 1800's to the 1930's. The group features Jessy Carolina on vocals and washboard, Jerron "Blind Boy" Paxton on piano, banjo, and vocals, Jordan Hyde on guitar, Jay Sanford on bass, Mario J. Maggio on clarinet and saxophone, and Satoru Ohashi on trumpet and trombone.

Jessy, who hails from Venezuela, grew up in North Dakota, and later moved to New York City, has a voice and singing style that ropes in passersby who find themselves entranced and engaged. The talent of all the members of the group is exceptional, and it comes as a huge treat to find such talent on the street - Jessy Carolina and the Hot Mess has performed in a variety of venues, both in and out of the city. Catch 'em when you can. I'll see you in the parks and streets of New York City, lured by the Sirens of Culture :)

Room With A View

I recently attended a community board meeting regarding a very hot-button issue for Village residents: the Parks Department's enforcement of new “expressive matter” rules, created to limit artist vendors in parks in 2010, applied to musicians and artists who take donations. The rules prohibit vending within 50 feet of a monument (includes the fountain) or 5 feet from a park bench, effectively making the park off-limits to performers. The impact of this is huge. Attorneys Norman Siegel (formerly of the ACLU) and Ron Kuby were on hand and poised for litigation.

(read more...)

Fountains

Depending on who's counting, the Palace of Versailles has more than 1,400 fountains. Due to the enormous amount of water required to fuel them, they are turned on infrequently. Even at the time of Louis XIV, the water supply was inadequate to run all of the fountains at once. There was even talk of diverting the River Eure to supply water to the fountains.

(read more...)

No Cannibals

In 1989, Daniel Rakowitz shocked New York City when he murdered and chopped up his ex-girlfriend Monika Beerle, made a soup out of her body, and served it to the homeless in Tompkins Square Park. Rakowitz, the "Butcher of Tompkins Square," was found not guilty by reason of insanity and moved to a state hospital for the criminally insane.

It is hard for anyone to imagine, even to those of us who lived in New York City, that not so long ago in the 1970s, the East Village was one of the most frightening areas to live in or visit. Extraordinary, because it was just a stroll away from the center Village and some of the most desirable and expensive real estate in New York City.

(read more...)

Last Resort

Growing up at the time and place that I did, there was not much to do as a teenager and very little that was approved by adults. No Starbucks for us. One of the few activities that was considered "good, clean fun" was bowling. Of course, to bring a girlfriend meant no privacy, which is what made it good and clean, but not much fun.

(read more...)

Movie Star

So many films and TV shows have portrayed New York City as the place where an individual can be discovered, get a big break into showbiz, and make it big, maybe even become a movie star. Of course it happens, but, like depictions of the wild West, the reality is far less glamorous, and shootouts on the streets of Laredo are rare. Making it in the performing arts is mostly a process of auditioning, waiting, and rejection. Who has the staying power for this lifestyle?

(read more...)

See It To Believe It

Most people are too self-conscious or shy to dance publicly, or for that matter, even privately. But it's healthy and on occasion, dancing can be seen on the streets and in the parks of New York City. Dancing's cathartic release is the central theme to a very funny comedy sketch by Dane Cook.

(read more...)

The Tide Pool

The drama and grandeur of the western United States is extraordinary. One of the great joys of the West is visiting the protected lands, especially the national parks. Names like Yosemite, Grand Canyon, Sequoia, Yellowstone, Death Valley, et. al. are known worldwide.

There are 58 officially designated national parks in the United States and its dependent areas, however, there is only one in the northeastern United States - Acadia National Park on Mt. Desert Island in Maine. It was here that I scrambled one morning to get to a ranger program exploring the tide pool. It was the first time I had heard the word, and I loved the idea*.

(read more...)

Serenity, Tranquility, Peace

Although technically in the borough of Manhattan, I have always felt it was almost a little undeserving for any New York borough to take claim to something so special as the Cloisters - it is located at the northernmost end of the island, as far as one can get from Uptown, Midtown, Downtown or any other area of that one would typically associate with New York City. Apart from the small number of residents in Washington Heights/Inwood, this area is really a destination for New Yorkers and visitors alike.

The Cloisters is a museum of medieval art and architecture, a branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Everyone loves this extraordinary complex - it's a close as you are going to get to genuine French architecture in the city. Germain Bazin, former director of the Musée du Louvre in Paris, described the Cloisters as "the crowning achievement of American museology."

The museum buildings were designed by Charles Collens and constructed from elements salvaged from five cloistered abbeys in France: Saint-Michel-de-Cuxa, Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert, Bonnefont-en-Comminges, Trie-en-Bigorre, and Froville. The sections used were disassembled brick-by-brick, shipped to New York City and reassembled between 1934 and 1938. From the Cloisters website:

Three of the cloisters reconstructed at the branch museum feature gardens planted according to horticultural information found in medieval treatises and poetry, garden documents and herbals, and medieval works of art, such as tapestries, stained-glass windows, and column capitals. Approximately three thousand works of art from medieval Europe, dating from the ninth to the sixteenth century, are exhibited in this unique and sympathetic context.

Located on four acres overlooking the Hudson River in northern Manhattan's Fort Tryon Park, the Cloisters is a world apart from the glitter, glamour, hustle bustle and frenetic energy of the city. For most New Yorkers, Fort Tryon Park and the Cloisters is a country getaway, a mini vacation. Visit the Cloisters if you want a small vacation from the city and Serenity, Tranquility and Peace :)

Related Posts: Down to the Cellular Level, Le Petit Chambord, Fire and Ice, Affront to Dignity, Paraiso, Steps From Paradise, Belvedere Castle, Devil's Playground

I'm Really Good at Paper Mache

It is slowly becoming abundantly clear to me how artistic abilities are little recognized or encouraged in young people. I have a story about a childhood friend so remarkable, that we are planning to write and publish a joint memoir as a book. But that's another story for another time.

I had another childhood friend, who shall remain nameless, who was quite sarcastic and cynical. Our community was doing a small performance of Alice In Wonderland. I was unaware of this production until it was nearly time for performance - hence I had no opportunity to audition or perform in the show. I took a last chance to ingratiate myself with the woman in charge and offered my services to make any figures needed from paper mache. I told her in front of my friend, "I'm really good with paper mache and working with wire."

Once we were alone, my friend was uproarious and quoted with great pleasure, "I'm really good with paper mache." Apparently, he found my skill set to be inconsequential and my statement of such, ridiculous. He took every opportunity subsequent to that incident to torture me with that quote. In hindsight, it does smack of a young boy desperately trying to win approval. But what is wrong with a young student who shows a creative interest?

Supporting a child who has an artistic temperament and abilities is a tough call. On my recent interview with Professor Gurland (see story Part 1 here and Part 2 here), he told me not only of his work as a jazz musician, but also of his son's interest. He made a deal with his boy - graduate from college and he can do anything he wants as far as pursuing music. A degree will provide a safety cushion for future employment. A reasonable compromise for the concerned parent.

For myself, it has taken the better part of my adult life to recognize my interest in creative pursuits - writing, photography, graphic arts. The evidence has been there throughout my life - building a darkroom as a child, crafting various objects and models, origami and designing products for my business.

I was however, steered towards a career in mathematics as is the case. My life might have been very different however, had someone just recognized that I'm Really Good at Paper Mache :)

Photo Note: Two Too Large Tables are located at Hudson River Park. The two works, designed by Allan and Ellen Wexler, were constructed from stainless steel and ipe wood and fabricated by Polich Art Works. One is comprised of 13 chairs, 7 feet tall, supporting a 16-foot-square plane. The other, also 16-feet-square, is 30 inches tall with integral seating areas. One serves as a shade pavilion and the other a community table.

“The seemingly random placement of chairs directs and focuses our views of the river, pathways and landscape. Pathways cut into the tabletop lead to clusters of chairs. When people sit they are completely surrounded. Their unconventional placement brings people together in unexpected groupings.”

Allan Wexler and Ellen Wexler are Chelsea residents and collaborate on public art projects; Allan teaches at Parsons The New School for Design.

White By Design 3

Another blizzard. Last night I was called at midnight and informed there was a major snowfight going on in Washington Square Park. I was too lazy to bundle up and venture out for the photo op. However, I did begin taking photos yesterday, going into last night and into this morning.

I have done many stories on this winter's blizzards and past snowstorms in New York City. I have also done a series of stories called White By Design. See the links below.

White By Design, White By Design 2, White By Desire, Blizzard, Friends P1, Friends P2, We Got Skiing Too, Shifting Gears, Snow Play, In Like a Lion, Gotta Shoot Village Cigars, Slush Fun.

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 :)

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...

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.

When Brian Met Sally...

A Tale of the Fortuitous, Serendipitous and a Late Night Offer


Sally Darling is a regular reader of this website and is one of the most effusive, ebullient individuals who has graced these cyberpages. She lives in Kansas, a virtual metaphor for all that is not New York City.
On September 9th, 2010, she commented:

Me again. Sorry, I'm your new stalker now :) I literally can not stop reading your posts. I can't explain how there is something in my bones that has always, my whole life, made me feel like I belong there, that I should be living there, but life's events didn't see it that way. Thank you so much for letting me have my little NYC Oasis right here in Kansas!

On September 10th she commented, announcing her upcoming visit to New York City:

Thanks Brian! I stayed up last night and read almost all of your 2010 posts. Not quite through with them, but I'm enjoying every second! I hope you know, my passion and thrill for your fascinating city is only getting fueled by your incredible photos and writing! I can't wait until we arrive on September 25th! My mind is racing a mile a minute with my itinerary selections!

But the Plot Thickens.

On September 24th at 12:41 PM, the day before leaving for New York, Sally commented:

I just love all your adventures that you have in your splendid park! I can't wait to be there Saturday! All I want to do is sit, watch, enjoy, and take in all the wonderment WSP [Washington Square Park] has to bring. You are so lucky that you have it at the tip of your fingertips! I'm counting the minutes until I walk through that wonderful Arch!

A fortuitous turn of events started as a dishwasher disaster at Sally's home in Kansas the night before leaving for New York City. Read the entire story here in her own words. Prompted by or nearly prevented by this accident, at 4:30 AM with 6 minutes left at home before leaving for the airport, Sally decided to make a quick examination of the comments on the blog with no expectations. She was surprised to find my late night offer posted at 11PM:

Sally - welcome to our world. Ask for me if ur in the park.

You're way ahead of me, I am sure, but the devil is in the details.

On Saturday night, September 25th, I was in Washington Square Park. The weather was superb and the evening glorious. Music was everywhere to be found and the park regulars were all there. Jeff, one of the habitués, approached me and said "Brian, you have some visitors looking for you." And there was Sally with her husband and daughter! After a mutual round of OMGs, I told them how they had picked the absolute best night.

I gave them a tour of the plaza, introducing them to all the important regulars, some of which have appeared on this website. Gaby, who was featured on September 8th, 2010, was also there. His story is another tale of the serendipitous (read On The Road here). A photo was taken of the three of us which you see here today.

Two friends, Hellen and Harvey, a married couple living in a nearby high rise, met Sally and her family and made a spectacular offer - to take them up to the roof deck on the 26th floor of their apartment building. The views from there are spectacular, a virtual unobstructed 360 degrees, including south views directly to Washington Square Park (lower photo). Sally was of course just brimming with enthusiasm. When it was time for our guests to leave, Hellen, the ever gracious hostess, insisted on walking them right to the subway platform.

On September 28th, after Sally's return to Kansas, I got this email:

Hello Brian I hope this is your email, and I hope you don't mind that I'm sending you this note. I just want to thank you for one of the most amazing evenings I've ever experienced. It was literally one of those unexpected moments that one might never experience in their lifetime. Please, Please, pass along my thanks to Harvey & Helen, for opening up their home and allowing us to see something my eyes will never forget! How can I ever repay you and them! And I thank you for not only introducing us to them, but for introducing us to your other wonderful Park friends. Sandy Vitamin, Hans, Gabby.....what a wonderful night! I wish we could have all sat down over a cocktail someplace and continued our visit. I knew my daughter was getting tired, and was not feeling good, so unfortunately we had to end our evening. I only hope that one day our paths will cross again, and we can continue where we left off. Your friend, Sally

'Twas a case of the Fortuitous, Serendipitous and a Late Night Offer, When Brian Met Sally... *


Please Note: All correspondence between Sally and I were reproduced here only after obtaining her permission. Thanks Sally.

*When Brian Met Sally is a play on the award winning 1989 comedy classic When Harry Met Sally... , starring Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan. Read more here.

Guns or Big Heads

Generally speaking, a man with a head this large playing chess would command quite a bit of attention. The big-headed character, a mascot for Emmy award winner Ted Greenberg's one-man show*, was available for any players while promotional free tickets for the show were being distributed. The chess playing mascot, however, got little attention for three reasons:

One, this is New York City, where anything goes and a lot is usually going. Two, this area of Washington Square Park, currently used for chess, is dominated by chess hustlers who are setup for business and playing for money. Three, the best candidates to find interest in chess are chess players. However, serious chess players (or hustlers) really could not care less about anything apart from a player's skill, and the mascot had mediocre playing ability. Perhaps a joke best illustrates this attitude, common to players and known to those very familiar with the game:

In a park, people come across a man playing chess against a dog. They are astonished and say: "What a clever dog!" But the man protests: "No, no, he isn't that clever. I'm leading by three games to one!"

This character trait of players is the theme in the short story The Chessplayers, about a trained chess playing rat, who, though remarkable on the face of it, leaves players in a club unimpressed because the rat's playing ability is not that good.

New York City is a mecca for chess, and anyone who lives here will see this illustrated in many ways. On August 6, 2009, I wrote a true story about a shooting I witnessed in Washington Square Park, where chess players only ducked and hid long enough for the bullets to stop flying before resume their games. See my story, Chess Monsters, here.

Only good playing will will impress good players. Gimmicks, novelties, Emmy Awards or non-human players will not. And neither will men with guns or big heads :)

*Ted Greenberg (sitting to the right of his mascot) is an award winning comedy writer who has written for the David Letterman show. Information about his one-man show, The Complete Performer, can be found here.

Other Postings on Chess in New York City: Good Fortune, Chess Monsters, Solid as a Rock, Marshall Chess Club.

Curse of the Mouth Trumpet

It was September 25, 2005, and and I had the good fortune to be told about the first annual Bluegrass Reunion in Washington Square Park.

I was astonished to see the "mouth trumpet" technique of Bob Gurland. As an added bonus, I learned that, unbeknownst to me, the woman he began to engage with in a duet was Maria Muldaur. Conveniently, my point and shoot digital camera at the time had video capability. What an opportunity to capture a bit of spontaneous music history! Or so I thought.

I noticed just before they had nearly completed their duet, that I was not recording at all. I immediately enabled the video recording but only got 15 seconds of them together. This was also the total video footage of Bob:



I did get to chat with Bob and complemented him on his unique and amazing skill. He told me he had performed and recorded with a number of music bands, including one of the earliest heavy metal groups, Blue Cheer. His name appears on the credit list for their album Oh! Pleasant Hope.

I am, however, very tenacious, and I never forgot my aborted video. So it was with great pleasure that after 5 years, I saw Bob again at the recent 6th Bluegrass Reunion. Here, I was quite confident. I had much more experience with photo equipment and had several cameras, including a Sony HD camcorder which I did not bother bringing. The video function of today's point and shoots is excellent, and I was lazy, sure that I was adequately prepared with my new Canon S90. Or so I thought.

I was very relaxed, shooting Bob in a number of segments, and even introduced myself and got him to do a short video clip alone. However, there appeared to be a peculiar tinting to all the video. No time to research this now, as I was sure it was a screen display issue. It was not. In making this Canon camera very user friendly, some functions are much too easily changed by brushing against a small function wheel. I had accidentally changed the mode from standard to color accent and color swap. In my panicky state, I tried to find the functions settings for video, to no avail. Once I was home, I learned how childishly simple the mode change is. Too late.

So, if you would like to enjoy Bob and his fellow musicians in a variety of lurid skin tones and other color abominations, here is my video montage:



Next time, I am determined to prevail over the Curse of the Mouth Trumpet :)

Photo Note: Bob Gurland is on the left with Trip Henderson on harmonica on the right. Both are New York City residents.

Urban Night Climbers

For a full night climbing experience, click and play audio link to accompany your reading.

Many years ago, in a conversation with a customer, the subject somehow turned to my childhood love of tree climbing. My customer was VERY pleased to hear this and encouraged me to rekindle this interest, embrace some trees, or perhaps even join him and his friends in their nocturnal sojourns. He was a night climber. Of buildings.

New York City is a city that never sleeps. We are known for our night clubs, night life and night people - but night climbers of buildings? I was not aware that there was an underground fraternity of those who practice buildering, aka urban climbing, stegophily, or structuring.

The press has covered the various climbing spectaculars of the city - Philippe Petit's legendary walk between the world trade towers on August 7, 1974. George Willig, a mountain-climber from Queens, New York, United States, climbed the South Tower of the World Trade Center on May 26, 1977. Alain Robert is a French rock and urban climber who in 1994 scaled the Empire State Building and on June 5, 2008, climbed the New York Times Building (later that day, Renaldo Clarke also climbed the building). Dan Goodwin, using suction cups and a camming device, climbed the North Tower of the World Trade Center on May 30, 1983.

But recreational buildering goes back much further than might be expected, at least to Victorian times in England, where students had been climbing the architecture of Cambridge University. Geoffrey Winthrop Young was roof climbing there in the 1890s and published The Roof Climber's Guide to Trinity in 1900. In 1937, The Night Climbers of Cambridge was written (under the pseudonym Whipplesnaith) about the nocturnal climbing on the town buildings and colleges of Cambridge, England in the 1930s.

In the United States, two men, George Polley and Harry Gardiner, both nicknamed the Human Fly, pioneered buildering as early as 1905. In 1920, George Polley climbed 30 floors of the Woolworth building before being arrested. Not much, however, is written about current recreational nighttime buildering in New York City, for obvious reasons. In 2008, the New York Times published an article with a little on the activity.

Apart from legality or prudence, I do understand the lure of urban climbing. Much as the alpine areas of the world are magnets for rock climbers, the buildings and skyscrapers of New York City provide the same challenges and draw in masonry, steel and glass. Perhaps I may yet get to witness the activities of these urban night climbers...

Photo Note: I was recently privy to access to one of the very few rooftops in the Village affording a direct view of Washington Square Park. The building and friends kind enough to invite me to share the view, will, in the spirit of buildering, remain a secret :)

The Bathroom Closes in 20 Minutes

There are innumerable thankless jobs, and many of us worked them when we were young. But for those of us who were college bound, doing these jobs in high school, no matter how distasteful, was made tolerable by seeing light at the end of the tunnel - knowing full well that this was only a temporary position on a journey to an easier life. There was hope.

But the masses of the work force are employed in jobs knowing that despite any late night self improvement evangelists, the reality is that the thankless job they have is the end of the tunnel. Despite patronizing platitudes like "every job has worth," who of those with a good job and pay will trade it for the thankless job with its purported dignity? "Make the best of it," we are told, but few of us have the temperament to make lemonade from these kinds of lemons for a lifetime.

John Henry Black is a maintenance worker in Washington Square Park. He not only has a great attitude, but he makes a real difference for those who enjoy the park. Complaints about odors emanating from a sewer area where hot dog vendors dump their refuse water daily has John preparing and adding a cleaning solution to douse the odoriferous offensive waters. He is known to warn women tourists to look out after their handbags or to suggest to others that they should move from the bench they are sitting on, since it is located below roosting pigeons. John is also a harmonica player and will often take a few moments to join a music jam.

He is best known for his mantra, which he belts out in the evening making his final rounds: "The bathroom closes in 20 minutes. If you gotta go, you better go."* We who spend time there regularly find his words and routine to be a palliative, a familiar soothing balm. And, of course, many do appreciate these announcements, which were never made in the past, leaving those in need of a bathroom and unfamiliar with park policy unpleasantly surprised that Washington Square Park is open long after its bathrooms close.

John Black hails from Florence, South Carolina, and has lived in New York City for 25 years, currently a resident of Harlem. His job as park maintenance worker is seasonal. In the late fall, he fills in his off time with other jobs until the following spring. When I asked his full name, he proudly smiled and answered, "Black." Seeing that I was doubtful, he produced official identification that did indeed identify him as John Black.

Today, on Labor Day, September 6, 2010, I nominate John Henry Black for candidate as poster child for the American Worker, an inspiration to make the best you can of what you do. But don't wait too long, because the bathroom closes in 20 minutes :)

*John actually starts with a series of announcements, typically an hour before, changing his mantra to reflect the time remaining.

Sittin' on Top of the World

Manhattan has a coordinated traffic signal system. Avenues run north/south and are generally one way, like the majority of crosstown streets. These avenues have traffic lights that are timed progressively so that traffic can move without stopping. In theory. The lights move in a wave - a green wave of about 5 lights traveling below speed limit, sandwiched between red lights behind and in front of this green wave. Driving these avenues is urban surfing - wait for a wave, catch the wave, ride the wave as long as possible and don't get caught in the soup. I have often ridden a wave like this for miles down an avenue.

On other major avenues that are two way, such as Park Avenue, Central Park West, 11th and 12th Avenues, lights are timed to change simultaneously. This means that the faster you go, the more lights you can make before stopping.

I drove a taxi in college, as did nearly all of my best friends. On one occasion, the wildest driver of the bunch asked me how many blocks I could make on Park Avenue. I believe he said he could make somewhere in the vicinity of 27 blocks. Without going through the mathematics, I can assure you - that is some fast driving on city streets, somewhere in the neighborhood of at least 60 miles per hour. Unfortunately, a few of us took this as a challenge, later comparing results. Fortunately, there were no fatalities in this short-lived reckless contest.

The speed limit in Manhattan is 30 mph. Traveling at 60 plus miles per hour on crowded city streets is lunacy. The reason for high auto insurance for those under 25 is abundantly clear.

Today's photo was taken looking north from the last Park Avenue mall. The small park extends from 96th to 97th streets, where the Metro North train tracks emerge from underground to travel on an elevated trestle along Park Avenue. Looking at this now, I realize that I could have challenged my college friend to see if, in French Connection style*, he could outrun a commuter train.

I, however, will keep away from all temptation that Park Avenue may offer, opting instead, for First or Second Avenue with the gentle waves of the progressive lights, where, with good conditions, I can catch a wave and ride it all the way. That thrill makes me feel like the ultimate Beach Boy, because in New York City, if you can catch a wave and ride it all the way, you feel like you're really sittin' on top of the world* :)

*The French Connection (1971) has what many consider of the greatest car chase scenes ever filmed. The chase was between a hitman on an out-of-control train on an elevated section of a subway line in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, and a police officer in a car on the streets below the train. Most of the chase sequence was real and filmed without permission from the city of New York. It includes an accidental car crash which was left in the film.

* From the Beach Boys song Catch a Wave, with the refrain: "Catch a wave and you're sittin' on top of the world."