Under the headline, “Ghosts Be Gone,” and above an 11”x7” picture of the main hall of Belcourt Castle, The Home section of Thursday’s NY Times featured the renovation of a grande dame mansion of Newport, R.I., society from back in the days when robber barons built empires based on steel or railroads, not bits and bytes (http://www.nytimes.com/2013/09/19/garden/ghosts-be-gone.html).
Gilda and I first toured Belcourt back in the mid 1970s. It was part of an idyllic vacation, still fondly recalled for the thick and delicious clam chowder we enjoyed at the Black Pearl restaurant on Newport’s waterfront. Our next visit to Belcourt was a family affair, part of a weekend conference my magazine co-hosted with Digital Equipment Corp. in the 1990s. For about a decade we together sponsored the Retail Innovation Technology Award (The RITA). We invited a half dozen retailers, and their significant others, to a judging venue, either on Cape Cod or Newport. Dan and Ellie would join Gilda and me for the weekend, though on this trip to Newport only a pre-teenage Ellie came along.
To be sure, these judging weekends could be compared to congressional junkets. We did a lot more socializing and entertaining than judging, but as in most industries, retailing and publishing laid their foundation on the building of relationships. Thus, in late June, we enjoyed a beautiful sun-filled weekend in Newport. Gary Finerty, my counterpart at Digital, had an in with someone at Trinity Church who provided access to the top of the steeple overlooking the harbor and city. Gilda still recalls with fright the climb on a vertical ladder to the cramped pinnacle of the church.
But the highlight of the weekend was our Saturday night dinner at Belcourt Castle, in the same room pictured in The Times. It’s not the food I remember, but rather an abridged but fine production of Phantom of the Opera performed for our modest group of maybe 20 guests. The Gothic ambiance, the cast walking around us or appearing in a balcony above the floor, and chandeliers, of course, chandeliers suspended above our table by long, very long chords. It was, simply, a night to remember, not the least of which was seeing the dazzle and awe in Ellie’s eyes. Perhaps that’s what inspired Ellie to become a leading lady in theater productions during her teenage years.
Are You Carrying Today?: Thursday’s Times also carried a article in the Business section about Starbucks’ decision to ask customers not to carry guns inside its stores or in its outdoor seating areas. The article noted that in his Doonesbury comic strip Gary Trudeau lampooned the company’s prior policy to adhere to local laws, many of which permit guns to be openly carried. The Times referenced one comic strip panel in which a barista greeted a customer with “Welcome to Starbucks, sir. Would you be openly carrying a weapon today?” (http://www.nytimes.com/2013/09/19/business/starbucks-seeks-to-keep-guns-out-of-its-cofee-shops.html)
Let’s avoid the gun control debate for now while I recount an incident during Gilda’s and my trip to Israel in 2003. It was during the second Intifada. As I inched our car up to the entrance of the parking garage of the shopping center in a high rise building in Tel Aviv, we saw security guards carefully checking each vehicle, looking inside each trunk, extending an elongated mirror under each chassis.
I’m fluent in Hebrew but was unprepared for the question posed by one of the guards. “Are you carrying a weapon?,” he asked. I hesitated at the seemingly contradictory reality that a country intent on stopping surprise shootings saw no conflict with its citizenry packing heat in public places. Quickly the guard sized up the situation and asked again, this time in English. No, I was not armed. Never have been. Hope to never be.
But for Israelis, carrying arms is second nature. Back in 1976, our friends Yakov and Chaya drove us from the Galilee to Jerusalem via the West Bank. Before we left Yakov’s parents’ kibbutz, his mother asked him to be careful. He touched Chaya’s pocketbook to indicate his Uzi was inside. I’d like to say we were reassured, but if so, it was only slightly.
Beards of a Feather Flock Together: Gilda sent me an article from AMNY that Joe Lhota would become the first bearded mayor in 100 years if he is elected in November (http://www.amny.com/urbanite-1.812039/if-joe-lhota-wins-he-d-be-the-first-mayor-with-a-beard-in-100-years-1.6105089?cmpid=am_New_York).
Seems there are some people who question the honesty of bearded men (probably bearded ladies as well, but that’s another story). Anyway, forgetting his politics for now, I don’t have any problems with Lhota sporting a beard. I’d be much more concerned if he practiced the comb-over on his shiny head. That definitely would send a message he was not to be trusted.
Speaking of bearded men not to be trusted, here’s another story from Gilda, this time from The Forward. The ultra-Orthodox rabbis of a town in Israel have issued a ban on women running or attending zumba classes, even all-women sessions. To the rabbis’ way of thinking, zumba “is entirely at odds with both the ways of the Torah and the holiness of Israel, as are the songs associated to it.” (http://forward.com/articles/183625/haredi-rabbis-outlaw-women-only-zumba-classes/)
Sometimes you just have to laugh at the foibles of religion.
Other times you have to cry: It's normal for observant Jews to go to ritual baths Friday afternoons to cleanse themselves before the sabbath begins at sundown. For a hopefully small group of religious practitioners it also was their custom to buy and sell illegal drugs before the sun went down.
New York police recently arrested five men for allegedly dealing illegal drugs including heroin. What’s more, the dealers allegedly sent text messages advising their buyers of the upcoming sabbath restrictions.
"We are closing at 7:30 on the dot and we will reopen on Saturday at 8:15 so if u need anything you have 45 mins to get what you want," one text read, according to investigators (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/09/11/drug-dealers-observe-shabbat_n_3908478.html).
That, as they say, is a real shanda!
