Found Money

I have always had difficulty understanding gambling addiction. Two stories I heard about it completely blew my mind:

• Years ago a good friend had a colleague who had saved $10K over several years for a vacation in Vegas. When the time came she gambled it all away in three days and had to come home early. She claimed not to have been bothered by this.
• Years later there was a news story about a clerical worker who embezzled over two million dollars from the medical clinic she worked in to spend on instant game tickets. This was at a time when instant tickets didn't offer large jackpots.

Now we have a $30 ticket that commemorates the 50^th anniversary of our state lottery. It's gold, shiny, and very prominently displayed in dealers' stores. I've recently observed that there are addicts in my neighborhood.

My state lottery has an afterlife for their losing tickets wherein you can enter their identification numbers for chances in a weekly drawing for $500. All entries not selected roll over to the monthly drawing for $2,500 and those not selected there expire. Sometimes certain tickets earn entries in special drawings, such as one for a cruise which was done a couple of months ago. Since I routinely buy a few draw tickets per week I decided to enter them and due to the maximum allowable number of daily entries this became an addiction of its own.

I started raiding the wastepaper baskets in retailers' stores. These are typically located within two steps of the ticket scanner. I quickly learned that the random number of chances earned by entering a ticket increases with the ticket's purchase price so I began looking for the higher-priced scratch tickets, mostly leaving behind the ones that cost less than five dollars. If I get the lower-priced ones it's because I've arrived at the right hour for that store and there is a large pile of them in the basket. Within the space of two weeks I found three tickets that won money but had not been cashed for a total of $16. The purchasers either did not scratch the relevant fields adequately or were not wearing their glasses and could not decipher the winning numbers. Three days ago a string of $2 tickets included one that had not been scratched at all which turned out to be a $5 winner. A shocked friend commented that the purchaser may as well have tossed out a $5 bill. He was even more shocked at hearing that I had actually found a $1 bill in one of those bins.

What defies my understanding is how much money some people spend on these tickets. A few years ago when I was adequately employed I purchased one of the early $20 scratch tickets. It was a beginner's luck purchase, as it won me $30. I collected the money and stopped there for the day.

The only occasions for which I had ever spend more than $20 at a time were when purchasing enough $1 or $2 leprechaun-themed scratch tickets for my friends' St Patrick's Day parties. A consecutive string of 50 of these should produce at least a few small wins. Obviously I am not the only person to observe this, as I have found consecutive tickets that – telling by the manner in which they were scratched – were obviously bought by the same person. But 10 $30 tickets? 12 $25 tickets? Nor is that restricted to instant-win tickets; I've seen and picked up stacks of Quick Draw and Win 4 draw tickets that sold for $20 each. Theses were often folded as a stack and discarded together, so it was obvious that they were discarded by the same person. The $300 someone spent on the 10 $30 instant tickets would buy 8 entrées at Red Lobster or three weeks of groceries. Maybe a new business suit or evening dress. For me that could be two seats at the opera. I wondered what that person didn't buy because of that. I wondered the same thing about the person who bought the 8 $25 tickets I found that week.

When I got home from finding those $25 tickets I checked the website for the previous week's winners list. My name was on it. The check arrived five days later, just before the holiday. Holiday weekends don't yield much when harvesting the losing tickets from these places.

Two weeks later, instead of buying the new cell phone I had been thinking about I had to get a new laptop. There goes the $500, so off I go to the lottery dealers to harvest more losing tickets.

The dealers in my neighborhood know what I'm doing; thus far they do not mind. Two of them know I've already won $500. I've identified the best times of the day for each one, but I don't plan my days around this. The higher-priced scratch tickets are usually scarce from Sunday-Tuesday; Friday is the best day to find those. The new $5 tickets are popular, and now I have several hundred of them.

It's been a month now since my $500 win and now there are other drawings to hope for wins. There will be a monthly drawing to commemorate the 50^th anniversary of the lottery and no extra effort is required. I entered a ticket last night and got a “this is not a qualified entry” message, which meant it was a winning ticket. I got $40 richer today for that. Little surprises like that are always welcome.

Looksism 2.0

The Urban Anthropologist resides near a performing arts high school whose students often stop in the local Starbucks on the way home. During an extended period of unemployment there was an opportunity to make the following observation: There are no ugly students in that school.

It doesn't seem logical that only attractive people would want to enter the performing arts; this has never been true in the past. However, with the advent of advanced acne products, parents willing to provide nose jobs and other procedures as Sweet Sixteen or Quincinera gifts, and the increasing use of hair color and other such things by younger and younger users, the standard of "average-looking" has definitely gone up. Women's magazines publish articles and surveys talking about the increase of image anxiety among younger and younger females all the time. One wonders where -- other than the media -- this is coming from.

Is it possible that auditions for such a school are only granted to attractive prospects? Enquiring minds want to know.

The baristas could not recall seeing unattractive students from that school. One laughed and asked "Ever see an ugly person in a Starbucks?" which prompted the Urban Anthropologist to recall all the Starbucks employees that have swiped her gold card. Not a single one of them were less than attractive or cute.

Is it the goal of certain companies and institutions to eradicate less than presentable people from public life? Maybe Jessica Simpson should take this on in a future season (if she has one) of her MTV series The Price of Beauty.

An old friend who has been without television for a while recently had occasion to watch a soap opera on an HD set while waiting for her car to be serviced. She was shocked at how the actors looked. We briefly discussed what this will mean in the long term: Will the entertainment industry finally have to acknowledge that actors do eventually get older or will they toss them out at increasingly younger ages as their minor wrinkles and other flaws are highlighted on HDTV? How would they justify the latter in a world where people live longer than ever?

When Boomers decided as teens not to trust anyone over 30, they had no idea what they started.

There Goes The Neighborhood

This lament is heard in cities worldwide whenever something major changes that the incumbent residents don’t like. It isn’t limited to situations where an area goes downhill because of lower-income housing and the types of residents it’s meant for, either. An old friend who is no longer an urbanite was once married to a man who grew up in a Manhattan area that had become a hellhole of crime by the time they met; $500 per month for the 3-bedroom apartment kept them there until 1996. Was he in denial about the dangers of this area, where cars were being set on fire outside their building and girl gangs would rob women by threatening to harm their children? Or did he stubbornly believe that this neighborhood would turn around? Rumor has it so, with apartments like his former one going for $350K and more listings to come, but this was not happening until ten years after their departure.

The other situation that provokes this comment is the suburbanization of other neighborhoods. Some artist friends of the Urban Anthropologist who live in the East Village are saying this about the new proliferation of baby prams and children on heelies that disturb the quiet, artistic atmosphere that once prevailed there. While there are still plenty of sidewalk cafes and art galleries to be found, the atmosphere around them is often disturbed by shrieks and childish giggling, often unchecked by the parents.

The transformation of such a neighborhood is anathema to a creative soul when the sidewalk cafes are taken over by “I’m my children’s best friend” mothers and their unruly spawn. It is disconcerting to see a favored coffee house disappear in favor of a Gymboree or – Heaven forefend – Chuck E. Cheese. Etiquetteers all over the US are besieged with questions about the invasion of children into venues that used to be taken for granted as Adults Only. Weren’t the suburbs created for that way of life? Are they now too small to contain it?

Artists, musicians, and actors are the cultural lifeblood of Manhattan, but the sad reality is that the neighborhoods that once welcomed them are now priced out of their incomes. The well-heeled invaders with prams, nannies, and selective disciplining of their progeny are sending the artistic and creative people running to Brooklyn and Queens where gentrification is only a few steps behind them.

Astoria, the famous one-time Greek enclave in Queens, is currently experiencing something between gentrification and suburbanization. It is difficult to predict which of these forces will ultimately win out as there are such contradictory signs all over. Chain venues such as Chicago Uno, Panera, Applebees, and – of course – Starbucks – follow other things such as the Regal Multiplex which, as a first-run theatre with stadium seating, has become a destination for movie fans outside the neighborhood. The Museum of the Moving Image sits sedately nearby, showing vintage films to audiences that range from nostalgia buffs to sophisticates. Art house? From time to time the Museum shows latter-day horror and the Regal saves a screen or two for art house films such as Pan’s Labyrinth. The non-urbanite friend has no theatre near her showing Sweeney Todd yet. A performing arts high school is currently under construction, set to open in September of this year.

Sidewalk café culture has always been a staple of Astoria life with at least one every few blocks along Broadway and 30th Avenue. The variety of accents heard in them today is endemic to New York: Greek, Cypriot, Indian, Italian, endlessly stimulating the brain as the various foods stimulate the senses. The irony of all this is that the new Italian restaurant near the Regal, Cinema Paradiso, has followed the path of many a Manhattan eatery of all atmosphere and bland fare. The Fellini posters on the walls and the bottles of Pellegrino promise greater cuisine than is found there; the Urban Anthropologist didn’t see or taste a speck of oregano or basil on the pizza.

In a vain attempt to determine whether Astoria is becoming the new Manhattan, the Urban Anthropologist is more inclined to compare it to Ancient Rome. Locals need to be forgiving for the mixed metaphor, but that city of Caesar, Cicero, and Ovid was the model for the modern metropolitan city in ways the Sybils could never have predicted. It held people, both free and enslaved, from all over the Empire and points beyond. Romans loved their luxuries, their imports, their entertainments, and even their own violence. New York itself is the new Ancient Rome; Caesar himself would feel at home here.

Urban Shopping and Gifting

Pre-Christmas Madness

At Thanksgiving dinner this year the Urban Anthropologist asked the other diners’ opinion of the Early and Earlier Bird sales trends in recent times. One commented that within two years we will be finishing our pumpkin pie and heading for the mall. This was followed by the discovery that this is already happening in Hawaii. Although Thanksgiving is a secular rather than a religious holiday, there seems to be something incredibly sacrilegious about this trend. In a previous essay on Alienation I speculated on whether the technology of connexion isn’t in fact keeping us at an even greater distance from each other. The same could be said for gift-giving because it’s a lot easier to give a gift than to say “I love you.”

Is the opportunity for early shopping making people more thoughtful? Are people giving better gifts than in years past? Considering that the evening news, starting on December 26thm shows long lines of people at return counters, it would appear to have had no such effect. Technology allows us to build wish lists in many places, shop online while listening to client conference calls or at 2AM in our PJs, but are we better shoppers for it? Is the modern urbanite gaining or losing in the shopzilla game?

How well do we know the people in our lives? The people whose names are on the list we’re checking twice are relatives, friends, and colleagues so, presumably, we have some ideas about what they would like. Yet gift cards are still a popular item despite the etiquetteers who call it the ultimate in lazy gifting.

We multitask to an alarming degree, talking, texting, IMing, e-mailing, that we don’t even remember our friends’ telephone numbers; we enter them into the memories of our phones, hit one or two keys and we’re connected. Along with those phone numbers we no longer remember, do we remember whether to buy Armani or Calvin Klein? Casswell-Massey or George F. Trumper? Milles Bournes or Monopoly? Most New Yorkers, regardless of financial status, have at least a half dozen people to shop for and there are at least a half dozen attitudes about it. Those who still shop in brick and mortars are classified into the following species:

The Shopzilla

This breed turns shopping into an Olympic sport. Armed with an objective, the hunter ventures far and wide, from expensive department store to church basement bazaars, rarely striking out. About 75% of these are female. She rarely discloses the source of an item and will share the price only with another Shopzilla. The Odd Lot and Odd Job stores of old were havens to this type, who tends to shop alone about 90% of the time. She collects coupons and e-mail from favored stores, often in sufficient numbers to require a filing system. She might even start on December 26th of the previous year and simply purchase opportunistically. She only gets it wrong about 2% of the time and that might be on size.

A legendary tale of years past told by a female acquaintance provides the ultimate success story. She was invited to the bridal shower of her cheapskate ex’s fiancée, but had to decline due to vacation plans. However she promised to visit them upon her return. On the payday immediately following her return to the office she had the gut feeling she needed to go into Odd Job on West 48th Street where she found a set of cups and saucers made of amber glass. Price: $2.49.

Yes, you read that correctly. The angel and devil from National Lampoon’s Animal House appeared to debate the ethics of this purchase; the devil won. The wrapping paper cost more than that at purchase 6 months earlier. The recipient placed the set immediately into the antique breakfront given by his mother. To this day he still does not know that his wedding gift had cost less than a pack of cigarettes.


The Fashionista

Everyone knows at least two or three of these. Their insecurity is such that nothing short of Manolo Blahnick and the shopping bag with his name on it will do. Their scent-hunting leads them to sample sales in the garment district. The ones who are under size 4 are often employed in some sector of the fashion industry where access to the source is the raison d’être. Their custom is to travel in packs, the better to get egged on by the others.

They are notorious for irritating their friends with either or both of the following boasts:

“I just paid $1500 for my new Kate Spade purse.” Or…
“This was the gift at the presentation of the Armani collection.”

The worst of them are often the very retail employees who snub those who can afford to pay, just because they might be a size 8 or more.



The Bottom Feeder

This cousin of the Shopzilla can be found at bargain chains, flea markets, and thrift shops because she’s on a tight budget. Many enjoy making it a game of it all. The smart ones shop for children’s items this way; the Laura Ashley nightgown was outgrown by its original owner in about a month and a half; one hand wash and two sheets of tissue paper later you have a nice gift for your infant niece.

Just hope that one’s sister-in-law isn’t a Fashionista who can spot that this nightgown is last season’s.



The Bohemian

Like her cousin Shopzilla she delights in finding the Perfect Thing.. Her venues tend to be the artsy-crafty market in areas like Union Square, whose vendors have unique items that other people need to purchase from websites. She needs to see and touch them first. Often she is an artist herself, so she is inclined toward things that are unique and unusual. The habit is usually to inspect the merchandise on Tuesday and return on Wednesday to do the actual purchase. Unlike the others, she is likely to wrap in plain paper that she decorates herself.


The Adrenalin Junkie

There are two distinct subgroups to this breed: Early Birds who storm the stores at pre-dawn sales immediately after the turkey is carved for sandwiches and the Late Birds who head to the mall in a panic on December 24th. At least 75% of the latter are male.

The sad thing about them is that they often haven’t a clue what to buy and there often are limited choices by the time they get to the store. The women in their lives forgive them if they remember and buy their favorite fragrances or cut of diamond, but the Urban Anthropologist has yet to meet even the most accurately identified metrosexual who knows his lady’s sizes.

Gift Cards

While there are a plethora of gift card purchases by men it would be interesting to know what percentage of them occur during the final shopping week.

As a recent article on MSN.com said, a gift card merely allows the giver to make a checkmark on his list. It requires no thought or effort; the store even supplies a holiday-themed gift card and envelope. Many recipients will regard the giver as a good-natured shopping clod but perhaps the worst downside is that a year from now, the recipient is unlikely to remember what s/he bought with it. Contrast that with something overheard at a wedding last summer: The 25-year-old bride remembered that an old friend of her mother’s gave her her first camera for Hannukkah when she was nine and her first cubic zirconias on her birthday the following year. Even the most sophisticated urbanite enjoys hearing this. Of course, the lady in question was a Royal Shopzilla.

The Subway II: Off-Peak

Off-peak subway riders are quite different from those during rush hour. The lack of urgency for most of the passengers can be felt; even if they are not engaged in conversation that makes this obvious. There are virtually no expressions of desperation or dread; more likely you will see expressions of amusement.


Tourists

It is rare to see tourists in single file in New York. Thanks to our (in)famous TV crime shows – NYPD Blue, Law & Order, CSI New York – the world is convinced that New York City is a hotbed of crime, so groups of fewer than four are rare. Most do not contain very young children, perhaps for the same reason. This is mostly regarded as a good thing.

Tourist groups are typically made up of adults of similar age, but sometimes consist of parents and their adult or teen children. About half of them do not carry street or subway maps within the city limits; this alone is insufficient to identify an out-of-towner. The other evening on a downtown #1 train a group of English females was reading the illuminated subway map aloud to each other and speculating on how long it would take to get to Canal Street. It was obvious to at least one native, a titian-haired woman in midtown black, that this was their first visit. As she got up to disembark at 18th Street she said to them “Enjoy your visit… and shop ‘till you drop!” “Thank you!” they all replied with a laugh.

Tourists, for understandable reasons, do not generally like to deal with reading material on the subway. For them, the ride is part of the real New York Experience.


Parentzillas

Perhaps the most obnoxious human subgroup, these are the entitlement-monsters whose offspring will someday be worse than they are. If pushing a pram they will heedlessly crash into other passengers with no apologies tendered. If the infant in the pram suddenly begins screaming, they will not have the grace to be embarrassed. Half of them will allow the child to continue screaming, ignoring the pained looks on the faces of their fellow passengers. The other half will attempt to placate the infant with food in one form or another, but the Urban Anthropologist suspects this is more about their own annoyance than about consideration for others.

In a few short years these same Parentzillas will be entering the subway car with Bratzilla who will typically spend his or her time swinging on the pole, running up and down the car, or fighting with a sibling. In the same percentage of time the Parentzilla attempts to rein in Bratzilla s/he will usually bang feet against the area below the seat. Many passengers have been seen to breathe sighs of relief upon the departure of such a family.


Teens

Most teens are riding the subway during off-peak hours in single-gender packs, usually identifiable by ethnicity or interest. Most seem oblivious to the world around them, but do not behave this way with the intent to offend others. Usually seen on weekends and – in most areas of the city – completely harmless except for their decibel level. The Urban Anthropologist can only blame volume levels on the iPod for that. If not in single-gender packs they are often in couples, still oblivious to the world because they are in Romeo and Juliet mode. The rest of the world often wishes life would still be like that.


The Unemployed

About half the members of this group look like George Costanza, as though they are on their way to job interviews in their neatly-pressed clothes and usually holding a copy of The Wall Street Journal or their industry’s trade publication. It is sometimes possible to decipher whether or not their meeting has already taken place and even how it went; most look very apprehensive before and relieved after. Those who feel it went well are usually reading a fresh copy of The New York Times, most of the time with the patented “commuter fold.”


Seniors

Most avoid the subway during rush and understandably so; even if the fare discount were in effect then most of this group would prefer to avoid the crush of humanity. Whether singly or in a small group, most are usually shopping. Most often seen during the hours between late breakfast and late lunch, the single ones are busy reading while the others engage in conversation. Some make a point of observing the more outrageously dressed teens, with facial expressions that telegraph “I’m glad I’m not young anymore.”


Shift Workers

They resemble the blue-collar workers seen during rush hour, but usually can manage to find a seat. They often look weary even before they start their days, as though all the scientists are right in saying that something gets upset when people reverse the workday. Their facial expressions seem to say “I’m glad my kids are on their way home instead.”

If Studs Turkel were still alive he would love to interview today’s subway passengers and perhaps someday the Urban Anthropologist will interview rather than merely observe. And wonder whether the contact will make a difference to anyone.

The Subway I: Rush Hour

No major city should be without this utterly essential form of transportation. In most cities the fare is determined by distance while in New York it is possible to go from the northernmost part of the Bronx to the southernmost point in Brooklyn for the same $2 it takes to get from Lincoln Center to 14th Street. Another feature of the New York one is its 24-hour nature. While not all lines operate 25/7 there are some that do so one is rarely stranded after extra hours in the office or late socializing. The fact that there are people standing on any subway train at midnight speaks volumes about the near 24-hour schedule. However, I wouldn’t want to be on it much later than that.

Danger Is Largely An Urban Legend

Reports of the dangers of the New York subway are greatly exaggerated. Anyone who believes they need to make out their wills before getting on the F train has seen too many screenings of The Taking of Pelham One Two Three, which is a complete work of fiction. The worst danger in the New York subway is catching a cold during a crowded rush hour trip to or from work. Tales of people being pushed off the platform by escaped mental patients make headlines because they are rare.

Comedienne Liz Torres used to say she got her best material from the subways. Based on the characters in them I believe this completely.

Passengers

Unlike those stereotypically New York characters in Pelham’s ill-fated subway car, the passengers one sees are a more diverse lot. In the course of one commute it is possible to observe every rush hour type:


The Executive

Twenty, even fifteen years ago, they always had briefcases. Those are now a thing that will help future generations date a film and any executive – of either gender – carrying a similarly-sized bag will have a laptop computer. These are never opened during a morning commute, as those are rarely long enough to accomplish anything meaningful and under crowded conditions the unit is at risk of damage from dropping. Some have eschewed the laptop for the crackberry which, as soon as the tunnels support the signals of the various carriers, will claim their last vestige of freedom from the corporate leash.

Probably half the males and a third of the females of this species are sporting Bluetooth devices. These have become so commonplace the Urban Anthropologist wonders why some clever designer hasn’t come out with a line of decorative wear for them. This could potentially include leather coverings to match shoes, silk ones to match ties, and metal decorations not unlike those on a traje de charro or US cowboy wear. A Jolly Roger, perhaps, for a corporate upstart? Elephants and donkeys to show political affiliation? Ladies’ Bluetooth devices can be covered to match clothes or jewelry. Those peacock-fanned earrings worn by movie ladies in cheongsam dresses come to mind…


The Blue Collar

They don’t wear suits, but they have the same Bluetooth and cell phones. They are usually more talkative among themselves than Executives, though, probably because they don’t have much opportunity to do this at their workplace. They are also visible at other hours of the day.


The Student

Most of these are more casually dressed than any student of previous generations. Many actually carry books and paper notebooks despite the battle cry of the technocrats who announce that laptops are mandatory even for high school students. Perhaps these are carried in their characteristic accessory – the dreaded backpack, which typically hits a shorter commuter in the face with any sudden move or turn.


The Parent / Nanny

Prams, even the folding kind, are the bane of many commuters’ existence. The embarrassed expressions on half the women who maneuver them reveal their ambivalence about bringing them on board at rush hour, attempting to beat the stopwatch that determines how long the doors remain open. Most try to remain near the doors for an easier exit. Most of the children in the prams, if they are not asleep, are miraculously quiet. Perhaps because they have become accustomed to the early morning commute. Perhaps the next generation’s Urban Anthropologist is among them, already learning to observe his fellow passengers.

The Island

Regardless of social status, the Island is the individual who locks out the rest of humanity by use of an iPod or other similar device. Some, alas, will become truly isolated through deafness within a few years, based on the volume at which they listen to their favourite music. If a passenger five feet away can hear song lyrics, there is damage being done to someone’s eardrums.


The Beggar

When it comes to beggars in the subway, the Urban Anthropologist is a hardened urban cynic. Their numbers during rush hours are sufficient that at a dollar a head per day encountered, my takehome pay would be thoroughly depleted before the next paycheck. The most notable of these beggars are usually

Former mental patients who often plant themselves firmly in front of a seated passenger until they give them something or exit the train

Clean, modestly-dressed women who recite hard-luck stories about widowhood and children. Some are very believable the first two times, but when one sees them six months later, one wonders whether this is, in fact, their choice to do. Alternatively, they could be conducting a social experiment

Musicians, usually singers traveling in trios or quartets. Unlike the buskers of Music Under New York they usually sing a capella. Many of them are actually good; the most common sound is R&B or doo-wop. Occasionally one sees a Mexican Regional group in this venue but, alas, the Urban Anthropologist has yet to spot the next Pablo Montero among them. Despite that, most are good enough to merit donations for which they graciously thank the passenger

Kids, usually selling candy for some school trip or team. Which speaks volumes about how public education is sorely in need of better management. Many have forced smiles and look as though they’d rather do anything else

The Homeless

It is a guarantee that you normally do not see a half-empty subway car during rush hour. If you do, it’s empty because a long-term homeless person is in it, requiring any passengers inside to keep a distance from the stench. Most will not venture near such a person out of fear that s/he is a mental patient not taking psychotropic medication. Surely anyone who hasn’t bathed since the Clinton administration could not be mentally healthy. Once in a while you will hear an announcement on a platform “Due to a sick passenger at 14th Street, all Number 5 train service will be delayed” the transit police are likely to be removing a passenger like this. Leave them to their job.

The Busker

The Good:

Music Under New York includes among its members professionals and semi-pros who perform for donations and sell their self-produced CDs. Those lucky or good enough to merit the prime locations often draw crowds who listen through entire songs and purchase the CDs. Mecca Bodega, an unusual duo, are one of the leading attractions, playing their folk-indie music on hand drums and the hammered dulcimer in Grand Central Station or other key connecting points. Many fans stay for more than one song; one almost expects the next listener to pass over a joint.

William Ruiz, another percussionist, can sometimes be found on the 7 train platform in Grand Central, playing his Afro-Indian influenced music that somehow keeps rhythm with the train itself. One almost wants to miss the train to listen to him, but he does have CDs available for purchase.

The Bad:

Down in the East Village a few years ago was a would-be Bob Dylan impersonator who haunted the 8th Street station. The Urban Anthropologist is no major fan of Dylan, but is quick to say that nothing sounds worse than a bad imitator of him. Perhaps it was the guitar being out of tune but the domino effect of this man’s performance capability made one long for the arrival of any train.

A soprano saxophonist who hangs out at the 59th Street station puts one in mind of the sadder notes Tony Curtis drew from the sax in Some Like It Hot. Except that from a soprano sax the sound is sufficiently painful at the end of a stressful day to make the Urban Anthropologist contemplate offering him $5 to refrain from playing until the arrival of the next train – either next train. Only two things prevent this:

It sets a bad precedent

Any busker at the next stop could be worse.

On the main floor in the Times Square stop is an elderly gentleman who plays en electronic keyboard, accompanied by some rather creepy dancing dolls. It is possible to co close one’s eyes to his music and picture an afternoon at the skating rink except… it is immensely foolish to close one’s eyes in any public place. It's better to head over to the Virgin Megastore to look for music to your taste.

The Gender Wars I: Entertainment and The Laws of Attraction

It is in cities and metropolises that entertainment is born. It is there and only there that people have the leisure and wherewithal to indulge their fantasies and to observe the polarization of the sexes over them.


Music Hath Charms… and the Elvis Effect

One does not need to be an ornithologist to know that male birds essentially have one of three paths to the females: Songs, plumage, and construction or provider skills. Perhaps the reason that human males feel intimidated is because human females can theoretically demand all three while the avian inhabitants of this planet are limited to one per species.

Male musicians have understood this ever since the beginning of city life in ancient times. Pindar and Ovid don’t tell us how Orpheus dressed, but the Urban Anthropologist is certain that his chitons were of the finest available fabrics, with gold trim and purple embroidery. The bards of the ancient world and well into the 18th century sought patronage from the wealthy in order to fit in with them and acquire their kind of plumage. If we buy into the theory that male creative geniuses do their best work when they are single in order to impress females we therefore can understand why talent agents want their male clients to be single. The illusion of their availability then becomes a bonus that works in their favor.

Movies and television have served to push the standard higher and higher. We can call this the Elvis Effect. It is no longer sufficient for an opera singer to merely have a beautiful voice; he must now also be matinee-idol handsome. The best current example is Juan Diego Florez, the Peruvian tenor who drew standing ovations last season at the Met in Il Barbieri di Siviglia. Vocally and physically he resembles the young Placido Domingo who at 66 is still handsome and in excellent voice. Both are appearing at the Met this season and the performances are mostly sold out. Ladies dressed to the nines will stand up and applaud discreetly in front of male escorts and friends, most of them of the mind that they are there solely for the music.

That has never been true, and we can prove it historically. The 19th-century composer and piano virtuoso Franz Liszt was the originator of turning the piano sideways so that the open lid faced the audience, enabling them to better hear the music. Cynics of the day wondered whether this wasn’t motivated by the other benefit Liszt gained: Enabling the females to see his incredibly handsome profile. Other musicians criticized the groupie behavior of these women who would steal his gloves and handkerchiefs, describing it as inappropriate and vulgar. More likely, they were envious. Liszt never married, by the way; he womanized well into old age through prolific years of musical innovation. As a post-script to his story, his daughter Cosima eventually married Richard Wagner, whose music is perhaps the most erotic in the entire classical repertoire.

The parents of the generation that crowned Elvis Presley King of Rock ‘n’ Roll were in abject shock at the frenzied behavior of females in his audience. The screaming, fainting, and approaches to the apron of the stage were incomprehensible to them. Of course, most would not have read biographies of the great composers and therefore would not have known about Franz Liszt’s groupies.

The Urban Anthropologist is too young to have been present at an Elvis concert, but sees parallels in the Latin music world. In Mexico the Elvis Effect probably began with Vicente Fernandez, who is El Rey in the world of ranchera music. He first recorded in the 1960s and, like Elvis, had a long string of successful films. At 67 years of age he’s still going strong, like Señor Domingo, and still photogenic. The next generation after him carries on this tradition and leading that group is his own superbly gifted middle son.

The charro singers of past generations were men of superior vocal ability and often affable personality. However, most of them pale in comparison to current ones of the Elvis Effect. Submitted for your consideration is the description of the latter-day Orpheus: Tallish, fair-complexioned, mostly European in appearance, with thick dark hair and strong masculine features. While the backup band’s uniforms are often cream-colored or light brown, Orpheus wears black. There is no doubt in anyone’s mind that he is the supreme alpha male in that room. To be an ordinary male in the audience of Alejandro Fernandez or Pablo Montero is to be almost invisible.

As an advertising professional, the Urban Anthropologist loves to quantify things. While no math genius, it was not difficult to estimate that audiences of either of these modern Orpheuses are usually at least 75% female. Mexican ancestry is not required to appreciate their voices, best described as a blend of heroic, romantic, and sexy. They are best displayed in small to medium venues that make it possible to have the up-close-and-personal experience. One of the legends about Fernandez the Younger is about women throwing their bras onstage at his feet. This is a fact. Here the Urban Anthropologist must express pride at being a New Yorker, as New York women are more nervy than that. At the former Felt Forum they were handing them to him over the security rail, with notes attached to them. He read them all and one of those notes made him blush. One wonders what any woman could write that would bring a blush to the face of an international playboy whose sex appeal is so dangerous one wants to compose an opera about Dracula in order to cast him in it.

At a smaller venue more recently 93.1 Amor held an event starring Pablo Montero. In his black traje de charro, Señor Montero is a fairy-tale prince, graciously accepting felicitations and kisses from ladies who approach the stage. Some had flowers; an elegantly-dressed blonde of indeterminate age bestowed a huge bouquet of red roses for which she received a kiss from this handsome prince … and a hostile reaction from another female, one not bearing a floral tribute. Señor Montero’s voice is that ageless range that identifies him as the romantic hero from movies and the pages of novels. He may have become famous singing sad love songs but a man so gifted by the Muses will never need to be lonely.


The Body Politic

It is an entertainment truism that every murder investigation must involve at least one visit to a strip club. While this is clearly pandering to the prurient interests of the audience, the Urban Anthropologist sees a connexion. It is the same mindset that allowed prostitution to flourish in the shadow of the Roman Coliseum, where some men became sexually aroused by the sight of violence.

In the modern world strippers and “exotic dancers”, by the nature of their work, appear to be the ultimate available females. Many of them are surgically enhanced, courtesy of earlier patrons who pay for lap dances. Between them and the airbrushed images in the pornography some are addicted to, their images and expectations of women cannot be commensurate with reality. Mostly naked and blatantly coming on to their patrons, they make no pretense at interest in their hearts. The mostly insecure males who enter these establishments pay expensively for the illusion of sexual congress with these distant heiresses of Gypsy Rose Lee. Unlike Tony Soprano and Paulie Walnuts, however, most of these men have no real access to the full sexual favors of these women. Yet, to observe their behaviors one would think that all they need do is crook a finger and flash their cash.

Ah, there’s the rub. For while a picture of General Grant or Benjamin Franklin can buy them temporary company, it takes a great deal more of a different asset for long-term devotion which, most of the time, these men are not aware is what they truly want. The mental compartmentalization many of these men do degrades these women rather than admiring their sense of rhythm or athleticism; pole dancing isn’t easy, nor does it even look it. But how many men who patronize these establishments are bachelor partiers and how many do so for dissatisfaction with the women in their personal lives? We will never know, because we can never expect any of them to admit such a thing.

Thus, while women wonder and complain about and attempt to understand why the men in their lives turn to strippers or internet porn for sexual satisfaction, they are missing a very important point: Men pay these women to take away the power of other women to judge them. They fear the rejection of the women whose favors are bought with music or charisma. The Urban Anthropologist therefore advises all women not to fear the strippers and porn images, for they serve as the winnowing process in the mating game.