Old Print Article: “Lorenzo Priori Executed,” Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1901)

June 22, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"It required two shocks to kill him. The first applied at 6:04 A.M. and the second about three minutes later."

At one point, death by electric chair was considered a progressive and humane treatment of the condemned. In the late 1880s, New York City formed a commission to devise a less cruel means of execution than hanging. They settled on electrocution and because one of the members of the commission, Alfred P. Southwick, was a dentist by trade, a dentist-office type of chair was decided upon. By 1890, New York was frying instead of hanging those convicted of the worst crimes. One such unfortunate was Lorenzo Priori, whose execution was covered with verve in the February 6, 1901 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle. An excerpt:

“Sing Sing, N.Y.–Lorenzo Priori, who murdered Vincenzo Garaguzo in New York City December 11, 1898, was put to death in the electric chair in the state prison to-day. It required two shocks to kill him. The first applied at 6:04 A.M. and the second about three minutes later. He left with the priests who attended him a statement declaring his innocence.

"He and five other Italians, among whom was Vincenzo Garaguzo, were playing cards in the rear of the drug store for a can of beer."

Priori was employed as a clerk in Dr. Pasquale Gilliberti’s drug store, at 530 1/2 Broome Street, Manhattan. On the day of the murder, he and five other Italians, among whom was Vincenzo Garaguzo, were playing cards in the rear of the drug store for a can of beer. Priori lost the game and bought the beer. Then, returning, he waited upon a customer. Afterward he accused the other men of drinking some of the beer. A quarrel ensued and Priori left. When Garaguzo came out of the drug store, Priori, armed with a pistol, followed him to his home, where he shot and killed him.

After conviction of murder in the first degree, Priori obtained a reprieve on the ground of new evidence, showing that James Saccardo, his brother-in-law, fired the fatal shot. Priori said that his brother-in-law was a member of the Mafia and that it was fear of the vengeance of that society that prevented his denouncing Saccardo before. On January 21 Governor Odell notified Priori’s counsel that he could interfere no further in the carrying out of the sentence of death.

In the statement left by the prisoner he reiterated his innocence and declared the crime was committed by Giacomo Saccardo, as he did during his trial. In conclusion, he wrote:

“Goodbye all. I am going to heaven in the arms of Jesus Christ; going where all the innocents will go, sooner or later. I am an innocent orphan.’

The body was claimed by friends of the dead man.”

 

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“I Wasn’t So…Sophisticated”

June 22, 2011 in Urban Studies, Videos | Permalink

Robert Rauschenberg and dealer Leo Castelli appear on a local, low-budget NYC TV show in 1977.

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Recently Posted On NYC’s Craigslist

June 21, 2011 in Misc., Urban Studies | Permalink

"I don't want to throw these out, but I'm not drinking this crap either."

Free Tropicana ‘light’ juice (Harlem / Morningside)

There was a sale. Tropicana Fruit Punch juice, 2 for $3.
But there was a catch, it said ‘light’ on the carton.
I thought it was odd, but I didn’t care, I was getting a deal.
I brought it home. I opened it. I tasted it.

It. Is. Disgusting.

It’s gross. It has a nasty after taste. I guess ‘light’ means light on deliciousness, because I can’t stomach this crap.
My little daughter can’t either. She spit it out. My husband gagged.
I bought 6 of these. And I can’t find the receipt.

I don’t want to throw these out, but I’m not drinking this crap either. So it’s yours. Five half gallon cartons of Tropicana ‘light’ Fruit Punch.

I live near 150th and riverside. Come and get it and it’s yours. I’m sorry if my ad isn’t very appealing, but i couldn’t lie to you.
Who knows, maybe you might like it!
First come, first serve.

Homeless Build Their Huts In Manhattan (1935)

June 21, 2011 in Excerpts, Photography, Urban Studies | Permalink

The great Berenice Abbott is responsible for this classic 1935 photograph of a mini-Hooverville that rose on Houston and Mercer Streets in Manhattan. The Great Depression hit hard and people were really hurting. (Notice the baby carriage outside one of the shanties, and the framed pictures hanging, an attempt at some semblance of normalcy.) Abbott had returned to New York City in 1929 after years in Paris and was stunned by how the building boom and the economic collapse had changed the city. She spent the next decade cataloging the transformation. An excerpt from Abbott’s 1991 obituary in the New York Times:

“Perhaps her most famous picture, a view of New York at night taken from the top of the Empire State Building, presents the city as a glittering tapestry of light, with massive buildings thrusting up from the criss-crossed streets. In her New York photographs, many of which were collected in the book Changing New York (1939), Miss Abbott also provided an invaluable historical record of the physical appearance of the city at a time when it was undergoing rapid transformation.

Miss Abbott first achieved fame as a photographer in Paris in the 1920’s with her penetrating portraits of such artists and writers as James Joyce, Janet Flanner and Jean Cocteau. She is also known for a series of photographs illustrating laws and processes of physics.

As a participant in the photographic controversies of her day, Miss Abbott was an eloquent and contentious advocate of the documentary approach. In books and articles she argued that photography was uniquely a descriptive medium, and should not be used to simulate effects that could better be achieved in other arts. ‘Photography can never grow up if it imitates some other medium,’ she wrote in 1951. ‘It has to walk alone; it has to be itself.'”

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“We Have A Television Set That Answers Your Telephone”

June 21, 2011 in Science/Tech, Videos | Permalink

Huge weirdos Tom Snyder and Willard Scott show new tech items in 1980.

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“We Said, ‘Where’s Electronic Mail? That Would Be So Cool.'”

June 21, 2011 in Excerpts, Science/Tech, Urban Studies, Videos | Permalink

Errol Morris, the Tolstoy of bloggers, uses his New York Times Opinionator space to tell the story of investigating whether his late brother, Noel, had a role in the creation of email alongside MIT programmer Tom Van Vleck. It’s a two-part marathon (here and here) and quite fascinating. It all apparently started with a simple 1965  memo. An excerpt:

“TOM VAN VLECK: In 1965, at the beginning of the year, there was a bunch of stuff going on with the time-sharing system that Noel and I were users of. We were working for the political science department. And the system programmers wrote a programming staff note memo that proposed the creation of a mail command. But people proposed things in programming staff notes that never got implemented. And well, we thought the idea of electronic mail was a great idea. We said, “Where’s electronic mail? That would be so cool.” And they said, “Oh, there’s no time to write that. It’s not important.” And we said, “Well, can we write it?” And we did. And then it became part of the system.

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Completely unrelated: Errol Morris reveals his five favorite films.

More Errol Morris posts:

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Tex Avery Foresees The Future Of Television

June 21, 2011 in Science/Tech, Urban Studies, Videos | Permalink

From 1953.

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“There Was An Uneasy Silence, An Embarrassed Pall At The Unmentioned Word Of Nazi”

June 21, 2011 in Excerpts, Politics, Science/Tech, Urban Studies | Permalink

Norman Mailer’s book Of a Fire on the Moon, about American space exploration during the 1960s, was originally published as three long and personal articles for Life magazine in 1969: “A Fire on the Moon,” “The Psychology of Astronauts,” and “A Dream of the Future’s Face.” Mailer used space travel to examine America’s conflicted and tattered existence–and his own as well. In one segment, he reports on a banquet in which Wernher von Braun, the former Nazi rocket engineer who became a guiding light at NASA, meets with American businessmen on the eve of the Apollo 11 launch. An excerpt:

Therefore, the audience was not to be at ease during his introduction, for the new speaker, who described himself as a “backup publisher,” went into a little too much historical detail. “During the Thirties he was employed by the Ordinance Department of the German government developing liquid fuel rockets. During World War II he made very significant developments in rocketry for his government.”

A tension spread in this audience of corporation presidents and high executives, of astronauts, a few at any rate, and their families. There was an uneasy silence, an embarrassed pall at the unmentioned word of Nazi–it was the shoe which did not drop to the floor. So no more than a pitter-patter of clapping was aroused when the speaker went quickly on to say: “In 1955 he became an American citizen himself.” It was only when Von Braun stood up at the end that the mood felt secure enough to shift. A particularly hearty and enthusiastic hand of applause swelled into a standing ovation. Nearly everybody stood up. Aquarius, who finally cast his vote by remaining seated, felt pressure not unrelated to refusing to stand up for The Star-Spangled Banner. It was as if the crowd with true American enthusiasm had finally declared, “Ah don’ care if he is some kind of ex-Nazi, he’s a good loyal patriotic American.”

Von Braun was. If patriotism is the ability to improve a nation’s morale, then Von Braun was a patriot. It was plain that some of these corporate executives loved him. In fact, they revered him. He was the high priest of their precise art–manufacture. If many too many an American product was accelerating into shoddy these years since the war, if planned obsolescence had all too often become a euphemism for sloppy workmanship, cynical cost-cutting, swollen advertising budgets, inefficiency and general indifference, then in one place at least, and for certain, America could be proud of a product. It was high as a castle and tooled more finely than the most exquisite watch.

Now the real and true tasty beef of capitalism got up to speak, the grease and guts of it, the veritable brawn, and spoke with fulsome language in his small and well-considered voice. He was with friends on this occasion, and so a savory and gravy of redolence came into his tone, his voice was not unmusical, it had overtones which hinted of angelic super-possibilities one could not otherwise lay on the line. He was when all was said like the head waiter of the largest hofbrau in heaven. “Honored guests, ladies and gentlemen,” Von Braun began, “it is with a great deal of respect tonight that I meet you, the leaders, and the captains in the mainstream of American industry and life. Without your success in building and maintaining the economic foundations of this nation, the resources for mounting tomorrow’s expedition to the moon would never have been committed…. Tomorrow’s historic launch belongs to you and to the men and women who sit behind the desks and administer your companies’ activities, to the men who sweep the floor in your office buildings and to every American who walks the street of this productive land. It is an American triumph. Many times I have thanked God for allowing me to be a part of the history that will be made here today and tomorrow and in the next few days. Tonight I want to offer my gratitude to you and all Americans who have created the most fantastically progressive nation yet conceived and developed,” He went on to talk of space as “the key to our future on earth,” and echoes of his vision drifted through the stale tropical air of a banquet room after coffee–perhaps he was hinting at the discords and nihilism traveling in bands and brigands across the earth. “The key to our future on earth. I think we should see clearly from this statement that the Apollo 11 moon trip even from its inception was not intended as a one-time trip that would rest alone on the merits of a single journey. If our intention had been merely to bring back a handful of soil and rocks from the lunar gravel pit and then forget the whole thing”–he spoke almost with contempt of the meager resources of the moon–“we would certainly be history’s biggest fools. But that is not our intention now–it never will be. What we are seeking in tomorrow’s trip is indeed that key to our future on earth. We are expanding the mind of man. We are extending this God-given brain and these God-given hands to their outermost limits and in so doing all mankind will benefit. All mankind will reap the harvest…. What we will have attained when Neil Armstrong steps down upon the moon is a completely new step in the evolution of man.”•

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Recently Posted On NYC’s Craigslist

June 20, 2011 in Misc., Urban Studies | Permalink

"I am looking for break up emails." (Image by Matthew Bowden.)

Emails wanted (Upper West Side)

I am currently working on a project regarding technology and society. I am looking for break up emails. Sent or received. If you have one you are willing to send to help me with this project it would be greatly appreciated!!

Thanks so much!!!!!

Your Clothing Is Now Air-Conditioned

June 20, 2011 in Science/Tech, Urban Studies, Videos | Permalink

From Endgadget: “The material that makes the magic happen is made of flat fibers that bring 35 percent more surface area in contact with your skin than traditional round yarns — and the more cloth touching your dermis, the better it can absorb and dissipate body heat. These flat fibers are bonded with a special compound that activates when wet (by water or sweat) and lowers the temperature of both the garment and the person wearing it.”

“What Were Once Fringe Tactics Are Now Increasingly Mainstream”

June 20, 2011 in Excerpts, Science/Tech, Urban Studies, Videos | Permalink

Writing about The Truman Show reminded me of Rob Walker’s brilliant, frightening 2004 article, “The Hidden (in Plant Sight) Persuaders,” in the New York Times Magazine. Penned before social media really took off, the article examines how BzzAgent, a Boston-based marketing firm contracts citizens to engage in surreptitious whisper campaigns to promote products. That person in the mall conspicuously reading a just-published book or loudly mentioning a great new band–they may be BzzAgents. Most amazingly, apart from earning a few small rewards which they often don’t bother to collect, these people are unpaid volunteers just wanting to be a part of a stealth machinery, like airport cultists merely trying to plant the idea in your head that flowers are nice to buy. The article’s opening:

“Over the July 4 weekend last summer, at cookouts up and down the East Coast and into the Midwest, guests arrived with packages of Al Fresco chicken sausage for their hosts to throw on the grill. At a family gathering in Kingsley, Mich. At a small barbecue in Sag Harbor, N.Y. At a 60-guest picnic in Philadelphia.

We know that this happened, and we even know how various party guests reacted to their first exposure to Al Fresco, because the Great Sausage Fanout of 2004 did not happen by chance. The sausage-bearers were not official representatives of Al Fresco, showing up in uniforms to hand out samples. They were invited guests, friends or relatives of whoever organized the get-togethers, but they were also — unknown to most all the other attendees — ‘agents,’ and they filed reports. ‘People could not believe they weren’t pork!’ one agent related. ‘I told everyone that they were low in fat and so much better than pork sausages.’ Another wrote, ‘I handed out discount coupons to several people and made sure they knew which grocery stores carried them.” Another noted that ‘my dad will most likely buy the garlic” flavor, before closing, ‘I’ll keep you posted.’

These reports went back to the company that Al Fresco’s owner, Kayem Foods, had hired to execute a ‘word of mouth’ marketing campaign. And while the Fourth of July weekend was busy, it was only a couple of days in an effort that went on for three months and involved not just a handful of agents but 2,000 of them. The agents were sent coupons for free sausage and a set of instructions for the best ways to talk the stuff up, but they did not confine themselves to those ideas, or to obvious events like barbecues. Consider a few scenes from the life of just one agent, named Gabriella.

At one grocery store, Gabriella asked a manager why there was no Al Fresco sausage available. At a second store, she dropped a card touting the product into the suggestion box. At a third, she talked a stranger into buying a package. She suggested that the organizers of a neighborhood picnic serve Al Fresco. She took some to a friend’s house for dinner and (she reported back) ‘explained to her how the sausage comes in six delicious flavors.’ Talking to another friend whom she had already converted into an Al Fresco customer, she noted that the product is ”not just for barbecues” and would be good at breakfast too. She even wrote to a local priest known for his interest in Italian food, suggesting a recipe for Tuscan white-bean soup that included Al Fresco sausage. The priest wrote back to say he’d give it a try. Gabriella asked me not to use her last name. The Al Fresco campaign is over — having notably boosted sales, by 100 percent in some stores — but she is still spreading word of mouth about a variety of other products, and revealing her identity, she said, would undermine her effectiveness as an agent.

The sausage campaign was organized by a small, three-year-old company in Boston called BzzAgent, but that firm is hardly the only entity to have concluded that the most powerful forum for consumer seduction is not TV ads or billboards but rather the conversations we have in our everyday lives. The thinking is that in a media universe that keeps fracturing into ever-finer segments, consumers are harder and harder to reach; some can use TiVo to block out ads or the TV’s remote control to click away from them, and the rest are simply too saturated with brand messages to absorb another pitch. So corporations frustrated at the apparent limits of ‘traditional’ marketing are increasingly open to word-of-mouth marketing. One result is a growing number of marketers organizing veritable armies of hired ‘trendsetters’ or ‘influencers’ or ‘street teams’ to execute ‘seeding programs,’ ‘viral marketing,’ ‘guerrilla marketing.’ What were once fringe tactics are now increasingly mainstream; there is even a Word of Mouth Marketing Association.”

••••••••••

BzzAgent, the social media machine:

Another Rob Walker post:

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Classic Film: The Truman Show (1996)

June 20, 2011 in Film, Videos | Permalink

Not even director Peter Weir and screenwriter Andrew Niccol could have guessed just how prescient their well-calibrated 1996 media satire, The Truman Show, would turn out to be. Just 15 years later who could deny that we live life as a reality show, that we’re all extras and well-placed products are the stars, and that cameras, always more cameras, steadfastly search for something with a semblance of reality? What’s most amusing is that the film’s central point, that we are ignorant to what’s around us rather than complicit, has proven to be almost entirely wrong.

Unbeknownst to him, Truman Burbank (Jim Carrey) was adopted at birth by a corporation and raised in a soundstage town watched over by 5,000 hidden cameras and populated by actors. His parents, his wife, his friends, those strangers on the street–all paid actors in on the ruse, which is pretty much just a cruel soap opera in which advertisers can sell their wares to a gawking world that lives vicariously through the unwitting star’s every move. Christof (Ed Harris), the artsy director who films the show, sums up its allure: “No scripts, no cue cards…it isn’t always Shakespeare but it’s geuine–it’s alive.” But how much longer can it go on living? Despite being programmed from the cradle, Truman, now in his 30s, has started piecing it all together.

While much of the satire is spot-on, what the filmmakers didn’t realize is that no one would have to trick us into this vulgar media landscape. We want it and we want it now. The ego-expanding properties of the Internet have made everyone an insta-star and we will gladly hold your products and smile for the cameras. We want to be watched and are accepting of the consequences if it means we can have the attention we feel we deserve. “Was nothing real?” Truman asks when he becomes aware of the large-scale deception. Well, yes, and no. Who cares? Just take those 5,000 cameras and point them at us. We’re ready, we think, for our close-up.•


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“First Time We Tried It, The Thing Took Off Like A Bat Out Of Hell”

June 19, 2011 in Science/Tech, Urban Studies, Videos | Permalink

I posted something before about Freeman Dyson’s involvement with Project Orion, a 1950s effort by a group of scientists to use A-bomb explosions to propel ships into outer space. The plan was successful though international treaties preempted its use. Here’s rare footage of what it looked like.

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“He Twice Removed Guns From Men Who Had Come For Massages”

June 19, 2011 in Excerpts, Urban Studies, Videos | Permalink

Much to his chagrin, Gay Talese was the subject of a 1973 New York profile by Aaron Latham, who followed the famed New Journalist as he did first-hand research on the sexual revolution, dropping trou and taking notes at massage parlors and the sex club Plato’s Retreat, for a book that would ultimately be titled Thy Neighbor’s Wife. Many years after the infamous article, Talese told the Paris Review that the New York piece had “tainted me, trivialized me…I’m pictured in a massage parlor on West Fifty-seventh Street, frolicking around in the nude. I didn’t have that much dignity after that was published.” An excerpt from the infamous article:

“To research his book on America’s sex change, Gay went to work managing not one but two massage parlors. He served as the day manager at one and as the night manager at the other. Gay defends massage parlors by saying, ‘It is obviously better to be masturbated by massage girls than to masturbate yourself.’

His day would start about noon, when he would walk over to The Middle Earth, at 51st Street and Third Avenue, and open up. The Middle Earth stands around the corner from the Random House building where Nan Talese works as an editor. While Nan sat her desk on the eleventh floor of a glass-and-steel skyscraper, Gay would sit at this desk on the second floor of a brownstone. While up above Nan flipped through the pages of manuscripts, down below Gay would flip through the pages of a photograph album displaying pictures of the girls he had available. When the customer selected a photo he liked, Gay would call the girl’s name and then ask for $18. The girl chosen would appear and lead the customer into a massage room. Half an hour later, she would say goodbye to the customer, stuff the sheet in a garbage can that served a laundry hamper, and go to the bathroom to wash her hands.

At 7 p.m., Gay would leave The Middle Earth and proceed to his second job at The Secret Life, at 26th Street and Lexington Avenue, where he not only took the customers’ money ($15), but frisked them before he let them have a girl. He twice removed guns from men who had come for massages (one was a policeman). Gay held the guns at the desk until the men were finished with the girls. He did not want his book to turn into an In Cold Blood.”

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“At Plato’s Retreat, you can make your dreams come true”:

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Recently Posted On NYC’s Craigslist

June 19, 2011 in Misc., Urban Studies | Permalink

Reporter looking to speak with someone who has sent nude photos online (Downtown)

I’m a reporter for a New York newspaper working on a story about adults who have emailed, tweeted or texted nude photos of themselves to a partner. If you fit this description, I would love to speak with you. I, of course, would not have to print your name in the newspaper.

If you are willing, please send along a telephone number to the address above. Thanks very much.

“Are We Going To Continue To Sit In Our Little, Plastic Apartments And Look At These Assassinations On Television?”

June 19, 2011 in Film, Urban Studies, Videos | Permalink

Susan Sontag and Agnès Varda at the Seventh New York Film Festival in 1969. Jack Kroll of Newsweek does the honors. Watch the full 28-minute version here.

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Old Print Articles: Milkmen And Misery, Brooklyn Daily Eagle (1878-96)

June 19, 2011 in Old Print Articles, Urban Studies | Permalink

"Charles Emerson, a milk peddler of this city, was shot and killed yesterday afternoon."

Perhaps no figure in nineteenth-century New York was quite so feared as the milkman, an agent of death and destruction who delivered calamity along with his white gold, as the following articles from the Brooklyn Daily Eagle demonstrate.

••••••••••

“A Milkman Shot By a Farmer” (September 29, 1893): “Buffalo, New York–Charles Emerson, a milk peddler of this city, was shot and killed yesterday afternoon midway between here and Tonawanda by William H. Griffith, a farmer. Griffith had sold Emerson some hay and the latter was hauling it away without paying for it as agreed upon. Yesterday while Griffith was absent Emerson attempted to take away another load. Griffith returned before the wagon was loaded and a quarrel ensued during which Griffith got his gun and shot Emerson in the thigh, making an ugly wound from which he had bled to death. Griffith was arrested. He claims that Emerson was advancing on him with a pitchfork when he fired in self defense.”

••••••••••

“Found Dead in His Cell” (September 2, 1896): “Jamaica, Long Island–Patrick Quinn, a milkman of Madison Street, this village, 26 years of age, who was arrested at 6 o’clock last evening and confined in the lock up at the town hall on a charge of breaking in the windows of the house in which he lived, belonging to Annie Olrogge, was found dead in his cell this morning by Keeper Hogan. Coroner S.H. Nutt viewed the remains and will hold an inquest Friday at 7:30 P.M. Quinn had been drinking heavily of late and it is supposed that his death resulted from alcoholism.”

••••••••••

"John Diedesch, a milkman, on Saturday night called upon a customer named Augusta Buckel to collect a bill due for lacteal served during the week."

“A Demonstrative Milkman” (February 25, 1878): “John Diedesch, a milkman, on Saturday night called upon a customer named Augusta Buckel, at her residence, No. 59 Hoyt Street, to collect a bill due for lacteal served during the week. Mrs. Buckel was not prepared to liquidate the account, as her husband had not returned home, nor was Diedesch in a humor to accept any such excuse as that offered. Accordingly he gave the woman to understand that he believed she intended to cheat him, and in return Mrs. Buckel had something to say which did not tickle the milkman’s fancy. The result was that Diedesch became exceedingly angry, and in this mood struck and kicked Mrs. Buckel to that extent that she may suffer permanently from the injuries inflicted.”

••••••••••

“Drunk Carbolic Acid” (April 8, 1895): “Henry A. Nichol, a milkman, who lived at 1,155 Broadway, was found dead yesterday afternoon in a coach in the rear of the livery stable of Walter R. Thomas, at 661 Lexington Avenue, where he stabled his horse and wagon. Two vials half filled with carbolic acid and a small glass which lay beside the dead man indicated that he had committed suicide. Nichols, who was 29 years old and unmarried, had been drinking heavily for three or four weeks past, and because of his dissipated habits had lost much of his trade. His friends say he had threatened to take his life.”

••••••••••

“The Deadly Broken Wire” (December 27, 1891): “Orange, New York–Frank E. Williams, a milkman was killed by an electric shock on High Street at 3:30 o’clock this morning. An old unused wire of the District messenger service broke during the night and fell across the wires of the city lighting system, which carry a current of 2,000 volts. The weather this morning was very foggy. While Williams was delivering milk the horse went ahead, and, coming in contact with the old wire, was knocked down. Williams went to his assistance and was struck in the face by the wire, which he grasped with both hands and held on to. No person witnessed the actual occurrence. Williams was taken to the residence of J.N. Robins and Dr. Bradshaw was called in. He came too late, however, for Williams was beyond human aid. His body was taken to the morgue.

Williams was 27 years of age, and was an estimable man. He was married three months ago to Miss Moger of Roseland, where he lived. When the news of his death was broken to his young wife she was greatly overcome.”

 

The Excavation Of A Giant Ant Hill

June 19, 2011 in Science/Tech, Videos | Permalink

Jesus. H. Christ. Don’t forget Tony Junod’s excellent Esquire article about ants.

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“Desperate As The Night Moves On…Just A Look And A Whisper…And They’re Gone”

June 19, 2011 in Urban Studies, Videos | Permalink

Sad news about Clarence Clemons passing away at age 69, one week after suffering a severe stroke. Bruce Springsteen’s E Street myth-building wouldn’t have worked nearly as well without his sideman’s accompaniment on sax, a rueful and romantic spin on King Curtis.

Whenever someone dies, I always prefer to look at film and photos of them that are grainy, dark and damaged. I’m alarmed by the HD, 3-D age we live in, the need to pretend that we’re seeing everything clearer, as if our world, our minds, are objective. It’s all a lie. I think the lo-fi aesthetic is more honest. It has gaps and imperfections and we have to fill them in and correct them, using our memories and dreams. Being handed some sort of phony, flawless truth is meaningless; it’s assimilating inchoate information that makes us human.

•••••••••••

In 1978 in Passaic, Clemons delivers one of the most famous sax solos in rock, two-and-a-half minutes of power, beginning at the four-minute mark:

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This Week’s Afflictor Keyphrase Searches

June 18, 2011 in Misc. | Permalink

 

Some search-engine keyphrases bringing traffic to Afflictor this week:

 

Highlights From Yet Another Week Of Afflictor

June 18, 2011 in Misc. | Permalink

Afflictor: Making women in burqas smile wide since 2009. (Image by Rama.)

  • Terry Southern passes time at Larry Flynt’s insane California estate in 1983.
  • In 1993, James Gleick accurately predicted the efficacy of cell phones.

Recently Posted On NYC’s Craigslist

June 17, 2011 in Misc., Urban Studies | Permalink

"Unbelievable."

Two free tickest to see the Monkees – $1 (Upper East Side)

In exchange for an hour of unbelievable sex at your place from 5:00-6:00
Yu must be an attractive female with a great body

“The Idea Of A Day Off Lost All Meaning”

June 17, 2011 in Excerpts, Urban Studies, Videos | Permalink

What was termed New Journalism reached critical mass in the 1960s, though Joseph Mitchell and A.J. Liebling and others had been doing it for decades. The colorful writing appeared prominently in the New York Herald Tribune, New York (which was born of the Trib), Esquire and numerous other periodicals. The style varied, but, oh, there was style. “The Birth of ‘The New Journalism’: Eyewitness Report By Tom Wolfe,” was the New York article, published in its February 14, 1972 issue, that defined the liberation of ink-stained wretches after it had overthrown the accepted order. An excerpt in which Wolfe recalls the furious work ethic behind the birth of the new:

“The Herald Tribune assigned me split duties, like a utility infielder’s. Two days a week I was supposed to work for the city desk as a general assignment reporter, as usual. The other three days I was supposed to turn out a weekly piece of about 1,500 words for the Herald Tribune’s new Sunday supplement, which was called New York. At the same time, following the success of ‘There Goes (Varoom! Varoom!) That Kandy-Kolored (Thphhhhhh!) Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby (Rahghhh!) Around the Bend (Brummmmmmmmmmmmmm) . . . . .’—I was also cranking out stories for Esquire. This setup was crazy enough to begin with. I can remember flying to Las Vegas on my two regular days off from the Herald Tribune to do a story for Esquire—’Las Vegas!!!!’—and winding up sitting on the edge of a white satin bed in a Hog-Stomping Baroque suite in a hotel on the Strip—in the décor known as Hog-Stomping Baroque there are 400-pound cut-glass chandeliers in the bathrooms—and picking up the phone and dictating to the stenographic battery of the Trib city desk the last third of a story on demolition derbies in Long Island for New York—’Clean Fun at Riverhead’—hoping to finish in time to meet a psychiatrist in a black silk mohair suit with brass buttons and a shawl collar, no lapels, one of the only two psychiatrists in Las Vegas County at that time, to take me to see the casualties of the Strip in the state mental ward out Charleston Boulevard. What made it crazier was that the piece about the demolition derbies was the last one I wrote that came anywhere close to being 1,500 words. After that they started climbing to 3,000, 4,000, 5,000, 6,000 words. Like Pascal, I was sorry, but I didn’t have time to write short ones. In nine months in the latter part of 1963 and first half of 1964 I wrote three more long pieces for Esquire and twenty for New York. All of this was in addition to what I was writing as a reporter for the Herald Tribune city desk two days a week. The idea of a day off lost all meaning. I can remember being furious on Monday, November 25, 1963, because there were people I desperately needed to talk to, for some story or other, and I couldn’t reach them because all the offices in New York seemed to be closed, every one. It was the day of President Kennedy’s funeral. I remember staring at the television set . . . morosely, but for all the wrong reasons.”

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The New York Herald Tribune for sale in Paris:

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“Best Of All, You Don’t Need A License To Buy Tupperware”

June 17, 2011 in Excerpts, Urban Studies, Videos | Permalink

In the ’60s and ’70s, before people were connected virtually, excuses were found for homemakers to come together in groups. These gatherings sometimes formed around Tupperware–non-biodegradable plastic food containers. This 1961 commercial depicts a Tupperware home party.

In a 1969 ad placed in Field & Stream, Tupperware tried to create a secondary male market for their goods: “Harry, what on earth are you doing with my Tupperware? What all smart sportsmen are doing. Using Tupperware, their wives’ favorite food containers, for their favorite hunting and fishing gear. Giving it the protection it deserves. And gets only in Tupperware. Tupperware is airtight. Waterproof. Moisture-proof. Dustproof. Rustproof. And that’s proof enough. Besides, Tupperware won’t rattle, dent or break. Tupperware has containers you can use for everything from scopes to spinners. From flies to film. From pliers to pipe tobacco. Best of all, you don’t need a license to buy Tupperware. And there’s no limit either.”

Öndör Gongor Towers Over His Comrades

June 17, 2011 in Excerpts, Photography, Urban Studies | Permalink

This classic photograph depicts Mongolian giant Öndör Gongor, who lived approximately from 1880 to 1925, though not too much is certain about his life. For instance, he either worked as an accountant, an elephant keeper, a bodyguard or a wrestler. The sketchy biographical details are collected at The Tallest Man website. An excerpt:

“According to an interview with his daughter G. Budkhand, published in 1997, Ondor Gongor was the third child of a herder named Pürev, who lived in the Dalai Choinkhor wangiin khoshuu, or what is today Jargalant sum of Khövsgöl aimag. He was not particularly big as child, only had long fingers. Because of him always eating a lot, he became a bit unpopular with his parents, and eventually was sent to Ikh Khüree. One day, he was summoned to the Bogd Khan, given fresh clothes, and after a while he was even made to marry a woman who worked as one of the Bogd Khan’s seamstresses, on the grounds that according to a horoscope by the Bogd Khan, their fates were connected.

The accounts are a bit at odds about what Gongor’s occupation at the Bogd Khan’s court was: accountant and keeper of the Bogd Khan’s elephant, the Bogd Khan’s bodyguard, or wrestler. In 1913, he travelled to Russia with a delegation headed by Sain Noyon Khan Namnansüren. Later, he is said to have worked at the toll office.

Ondor Gongor had four children. He died in his home area in the late 1920s, before reaching the age of 50. His corpse is said to have been stolen during the funeral – at that time, the deceased were laid out in the steppe to be devoured by birds and other animals – and now on display in a US museum.”

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