Sewer Commissions and Other Noteworthy Beats

Over the course of many years as a journalist I’ve been approached by numerous students and recent graduates enamored with the idea of becoming a reporter. In the late 1970s and into the 1980s, I attributed it to the Woodward and Bernstein effect. Everyone wanted to be a crusading investigative reporter, exposing their own Watergate scandal to topple an administration. In the most recent decade interest in journalism has been jump-started by the Internet. With a laptop, or even a smart phone, anyone who could master technology could become an on-the-spot reporter.

When asked about the profession, I would counsel that most practitioners struggle to make a living, that the life of most reporters is one of drudgery, of going to one sewer commission meeting after another. Not that sewer commission meetings aren’t important. They are extremely vital to homeowners who desire to rid themselves of septic tanks by hooking up to the municipal waste system. It’s just not a very glamorous beat. 

But leave it to Linda Greenhouse, the former Supreme Court reporter and current blogger for The NY Times, and now a senior fellow at Yale Law School, to plumb the depths of a sewer commission dispute from Indianapolis to cast some perspective on how the Court may rule in the most important case before it, the validity of health care reform commonly called Obamacare. She doesn’t project how the Court will rule, but her analysis is intriguing. Here it is: http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/06/13/when-enough-is-enough/

Weariness has overtaken me. Though an admitted political junkie, I need a break from the never-ending cycle of presidential election news, especially when Romney refuses to provide specifics about his programs and the press lets him get away with it, the most recent case being their inability to pin him down on whether he would repeal Obama’s executive action not to deport under-30 illegal immigrants brought into the United States by their parents when they were young. Barring any action that may demand immediate commentary, I plan to step back from tossing more pabulum onto the pap pile until the nominating conventions. 

I’ll be more than mildly surprised if I adhere to this intention. Perhaps to make up for leaving you with less than a complete plate of political goodies, I’ll link you to commentaries I find interesting (in other words, ones I agree with). Here’s the first, from Timothy Egan: http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/06/14/the-clown-and-the-cop/

If I’m not going to write about politics, will sports assume more importance? Nah, but I do have to admit I was guilty a few weeks ago of not remembering the baseball season is a marathon, not a sprint. Back on May 22 I lamented how long a season it might be considering how poorly the NY Yankees were playing. 

Fast forward to today. The Yankees are in first place in the American League East. They’ve won eight in a row. Their pitching has been exceptional. As soon as they really start hitting (that means you A-Rod, Teixeira and Martin), they have a real shot at justifying their big salaries. Saturday they finally won a game without the benefit of a home run. The summer is looking better with each passing day. 

Nepotism and Consumer Facts

The last episode of this season’s Mad Men ended with Don Draper employing nepotism to secure his wife a featured spot in a television shoe commercial. During my tenure as an editor and publisher I practiced nepotism four times, placing Dan when he was three years old in a Pac-Man sweatshirt for a picture accompanying a story we did on licensed merchandise, a second time 10 months later later dressing Dan and 13-month-old Ellie in kids’ overalls for an article on childrenswear, a third time five months later posing Ellie in a stretchie for an advertising supplement for Gerber baby products, and the last time enlisting Gilda’s sister’s family for an advertising supplement on activewear.

That last bit of nepotism turned out to be part of a cruel exchange of modeling time for a few pieces of apparel. The supplement was going to run in early spring, so we needed to shoot in January. Outdoors. By the ocean. Barbara’s family at the time lived in Manhattan Beach, Brooklyn. We agreed to photograph them one sunny day. 

Sunny it was. But with the wind chill it was below 20 degrees on the beach. The activewear tops and bottoms provided scant protection to the biting cold for Barbara, her husband and their three children, ages 5, 10 and 12. I know because I was out there on the beach as well. Bundled up in my winter coat, hat, earmuffs and gloves. Freezing my bejeezus off. We had to stop shooting after about 45 minutes. The photographer’s camera froze. 

As long as we’re talking media and advertising, here are some interesting “facts” culled from several press releases and articles:

According to Buyology, Inc., a market research firm that studies “the deeper, non-conscious, 85% of human decision-making that drives customer preference for brands,” the political differences between Democrats and Republicans extend to the consumer brands they prefer. For example, in the category of most desired coffee shop, Democrats favor Starbucks; Republicans savor Dunkin’ Donuts. 

Among the 200 brands studied by Buyology, here’s how the parties split on seven other categories: 

Most desired car—Jeep for Dems, BMW for GOP

Most desired insurance—Progressive for Dems (could they have been influenced by the name?), Allstate for GOP

Most desired electronics—Sony for Democrats, Sharp for GOP

Most desired TV channel—Animal Planet for Dems, History Channel for GOP (figures)

Most desired restaurant—Wendy’s for Dems, Subway for GOP

Most desired gaming system—Wii for Dems, Xbox for GOP

Democrats and Republicans found common ground on the following: Coca-Cola as their favorite beverage, Visa their most desired financial service, Google their most desired Internet brand, Apple the most desired technology and Olay the most desired beauty brand.

Here’s what passes as startling news these days: A survey by Harris Interactive of 2,212 U.S. adults ages 18 and older, done on behalf of CouponCabin.com, found nearly three-in-four (72%) would be more likely to buy organic food items if they were less expensive than regular grocery items. 

Duh! How’s that for discovering consumers would buy something if it cost less?

By the way, according to Grocery Headquarters magazine, 52% of dads say they are the primary food shopper in their households. I’ve been part of that majority for years, even before retirement.

With Father’s Day approaching this Sunday, another coupon Web site, RetailMeNot.com, is out with a survey claiming 77% of adults feel moms receive more attention on Mother’s Day than dads do on Father’s Day. Moreover, just 54% of the 1,005 adults surveyed jointly with Ipsos Public Affairs typically purchase a gift for dad, compared with 71% of survey respondents who tend to buy Mother's Day gifts for mom. 

The numbers sound reasonable to me. The preferred Father’s Day gift, said 40% of the men surveyed, was quality time with the family, such as an outing or dinner. I guess I’m normal—when Gilda asked me earlier today what I wanted to do on Father’s Day I suggested eating out. And that’s from someone fortunate enough to be married to a gourmet cook.

  

Out in San Francisco Bay

One of the best guided tours Gilda and I ever took was back in 1978, at Alcatraz, the island prison in the middle of San Francisco Bay. It’s most appropriate to recall this tour today as tonight marks the 50th anniversary of the only escape from the prison-on-the-rock that might have succeeded (for details, read: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/06/10/us/anniversary-of-a-mystery-at-alcatraz.html?_r=1).

We journeyed to Alcatraz as part of our first trip to California. After visiting my sister in Los Angeles, and taking a trip down to San Diego, we drove north along the Pacific Coast Highway to San Francisco, stopping along the way in Santa Barbara, San Luis Obispo, San Simeon (the Hearst Castle), Carmel and Monterey.  We had heard about the Alcatraz tour and arranged tickets for the 15-minute boat ride to the island. 

Today, visitors are given headsets to listen to audio descriptions of Alcatraz as they walk at their leisure around the former federal penitentiary. Back in 1978, Park Service Rangers provided live commentary as they guided tour groups throughout the facility. 

Though it was the middle of summer during our visit, Alcatraz was chilly, with a dampness that invaded our bones. Weather conditions, we found out, were part of the unique punishment meted out to incorrigible prisoners who earned a stay in solitary confinement, what the inmates called “the hole.” There were six solitary confinement cells, as distinct from 36 segregation cells where prisoners were confined throughout the day. Their only relief from the segregation cells was one visit per week to the recreation yard which they “enjoyed” individually.  

To make them as uncomfortable as possible in solitary confinement, prisoners were stripped naked before being placed in the dark, lightless hole, the Park Ranger told us. The walls and floor of the cell were steel, not concrete, because steel would not become as warm from contact with the body. Rather, the wind blowing in from the bay would keep it cold, so prisoners would try their best to maintain a position that exposed the least amount of skin to the surface. They did that by squatting down on their haunches and balancing themselves with a few fingertips for hours on end, he said. He invited us to step inside a cell and assume the position. It was not a comfortable experience.

“Guests” of the hole received one meal a day. As the government had to provide a minimum number of calories to each prisoner per day, the guards concocted what became known as an “Alcatraz cocktail.” All the food from each day was blended together to form what I’m sure was not a savory drink. 

As we walked through the shower room where inmates were showered three times a week, to our surprise the Park Ranger said the showers used hot, not cold, water. His explanation made perfect sense. Prison officials had no desire to acclimate their charges to the frigid bay waters. If they were going to try to escape by jumping into the bay, they wanted them to be shocked by the cold water. 

One final tidbit of information—The “Birdman of Alcatraz,” Robert Stroud, made famous by a biography and a movie of the same name starring Burt Lancaster, actually was the Birdman of Leavenworth. Leavenworth didn’t have the same panache as Alcatraz so  the location name was changed even though Stroud never kept birds in Alcatraz after being transferred to the island from Leavenworth, Kans., in 1942. 

If you’re ever in San Francisco, visit Alcatraz. I’m sure the trip will be fascinating, even if it’s electronically described.

Political Offspring

Should Mitt Romney find himself sitting in the president’s chair next January, he would have done more than just unseat an incumbent. He would have ended three straight White House presidencies exclusively populated by distaff offspring. Indeed, six of the last 12 presidents sired daughters-only. Romney has five sons. 

Fathering daughters-only is a bi-partisan effort, though Democrats have done it more often than Republicans, four times to two. 

Dividing up male progeny by political party is harder as Ronald Reagan had five children, including two sons, while still a member of the Democratic Party. He didn’t shift to the GOP until 1962, four years after his youngest child, Ron, was born. Not counting Reagan’s output, Republicans spawned eight sons to just five for Democratic presidents.

Here’s the listing of the last 12 presidents and their offspring:

Harry S. Truman—Mary Margaret

Dwight D. Eisenhower—Doud Dwight, John Sheldon Doud 

John F. Kennedy—Caroline, John Jr., Patrick

Lyndon B. Johnson—Lynda Bird, Luci Baines

Richard M. Nixon—Patricia, Julie

Gerald R. Ford—Michael Gerald, Steven Meigs, Susan Elizabeth

Jimmy E. Carter—John William, James Earl III, Donnell Jeffrey, Amy Lynn

Ronald W. Reagan—Maureen, Michael, Christine, Patti Davis, Ron

George H.W. Bush—George W., John E., Neil, Marvin P., Dorothy

William J. Clinton—Chelsea

George W. Bush—Barbara Pierce, Jenna Hager

Barack H. Obama—Malia Ann, Sasha

If you’ve been fascinated this far into the blog, here’s another offbeat trend I’ve noticed—the daughters of prominent Democrats seem to have a passion for Jewish men. 

Last week Ashley Biden, daughter of Vice President Joseph Biden, married Dr. Howard Krein. A year ago Chelsea Clinton married investment banker Marc Mezvinsky. Caroline Kennedy married Edwin Schlossberg, an exhibit designer, in 1986.   

Perhaps they are all taking a cue from Caroline’s mother, Jackie Kennedy Onassis, who had a 15-year liaison with Maurice Templesman, a businessman and diamond merchant, until she died in 1994. 

Look for the Union Label

I never really knew any of my grandparents. My father’s parents perished in the Holocaust in Poland. I was barely two when my maternal grandfather died in New York. The only memory I have of my mother’s mother was a visit to a hospital room a couple of years later to see an old woman lying in a bed encased in a clear plastic oxygen tent. She died shortly thereafter.

The closest person I had to a grandmother was Bessie Trachtenberg. When my father came to America in 1939, he roomed with her family in Brooklyn for a while. She remained in his life, and ours, for more than three decades. We’d see Bessie every few weeks or so, usually for a Friday night or Sunday dinner. Though the meals were invariably at our home, Bessie would don an apron. She was a good cook. She made the best breaded veal chops. 

Bessie worked in a clothing factory. She was an active member of the ILGWU, the International Ladies Garment Workers Union. And that, dear reader, led to more loud discussions at the dinner table than any other topic. You see, my father owned and operated a non-unionized clothing factory. By all accounts he was a benevolent boss, his workers never once even organizing for a union vote. Bessie, on the other hand, helped the ILGWU establish union locals. She had a much more jaundiced view of management. So they would argue over and over about the value of unions.

Which brings me to this week’s news from Wisconsin that Governor Scott Walker had beaten back efforts to recall him because of his anti-union stands. Let’s also not discount the votes in San Diego and San Jose on Tuesday to scale back benefits for unionized municipal workers, including police and firemen. It’s not an easy time advocating for organized labor. There’s no doubt some unions have acted in less than savory means. Some union executives have become as domineering and untrustworthy as corporate executives. But it is also true that without unions uniform and equitable working conditions, for all employees, would not be as safe and progressive as they are today. 

It’s become acceptable to blame teachers, emergency services personnel and other municipal workers for the skyrocketing public debt of many government entities. In the past, union workers made concessions on wage hikes to secure more golden retirement pension and health care benefits. The politicians who approved those contracts were only too glad to pass the expense on to later generations. 

Clearly something must be done to solve the solvency problem of government outlays. But let’s keep in mind that the workers we are subjecting to Draconian cutbacks many times are the foundation of our present and future. I’d argue teachers are no less important than parents in molding a child’s character and behavior, let alone the quest for knowledge. Are you ready to step outside each day to protect our safety from man, beast, the elements and other unknowns? How’s about riding on the back of a truck collecting garbage in the heat of summer, the frigid blasts of winter? 

We’ve become content with paying these essential workers, along with military personnel who guarantee our freedom and security at the risk of their lives, wages and now benefits that are not commensurate with the value they provide our society. A nurse in a unionized city hospital distributes more tangible, societal value than a hedge fund manager. A fireman contributes more human value than a stock trader. Even a janitor who keeps a school building clean has a job with more positive impact on society than someone crunching derivatives just to make money for money’s sake. 

Being a union member did not confer on them that pedigree. But it didn’t hurt, either.

I was a manager for more than 30 years in a non-union publishing company. I think I treated my editorial and sales staffs fairly, giving them above average salaries, incentives and bonuses to supplement and reward their efforts. I was under no obligation to do so. Indeed, many a year I had to fight upper management for the right to reward my editorial staffers with extra remuneration. 

When I began as a reporter at The New Haven Register in 1972, I earned $150 a week (that’s $7,800 a year for those mathematically challenged) plus a Christmas bonus of a 15-pound turkey, which priced out to about $7.50. After we voted in the Newspaper Guild two years later, my salary was frozen at its $200 a week level ($10,400 a year) during the negotiation period, which lasted more than two years. I left the Register before a settlement was reached. Under the terms won by the union, I would have earned $19,760 a year. Yes, some of that increase would have gone to pay union dues. But no one can convince me it was not the collective efforts of the Guild, representing union and non union workers, that brought financial dignity to the newsroom. 

If Someone Comes to Kill You ...

Most Tuesday mornings from October through early June I participate in a Bible study class at our temple. We’re making our way through Exodus this year. Part of today’s lesson from chapter 22 of Exodus dealt with the concept of self-defense. If a home invasion happens when it is light, it is not permissible to kill the intruder as it is presumed he would flee or surrender if discovered. However, if a thief enters a home at night, a resident may kill the intruder with impunity as it may be presumed the criminal would have had murderous intent if confronted. 

This reasoning led to a long-accepted rabbinic maxim, “He who comes to kill you, kill him first.” 

Today, June 5, was a most appropriate time to consider this precept. It is the 45th anniversary of the Six Day War, Israel’s pre-emptive strike on Egypt and Syria. (Interestingly and coincidentally, today the United States confirmed Al-Qaeda’s second in command had been killed Monday, presumably in a drone attack inside Pakistan.)

The 1967 crisis in the Middle East had been building for months. Egypt expelled United Nations peacekeepers who guarded the Sinai border with Israel. It closed the Straits of Tiran to ships bound for Eilat. A blockade is considered an act of war. Arab countries vowed to drive Israelis into the sea, to dismember the Jewish state. 

Jews the world over feared another Holocaust. Anyone with relatives or friends in Israel were doubly worried. My sister, Lee, was in Israel, studying at Hebrew University. For the last few weeks she had been packing crackers for army rations. 

Monday morning, June 5, 1967, I drove from our parents’ home to Brooklyn College, taking up my usual position at the Knight House “fraternity” table in the Boylan Hall cafeteria. Around 10, word started to trickle in that war had broken out. This was not the era of instant worldwide communications, of CNN or cell phones, of 24-hour news cycles. Israel controlled the dissemination of news from its territory. In those first, terrifying, stomach-churning hours, the only reports we heard were those coming from Egypt, communiqués about Arab troops advancing on Tel Aviv, of Zionists falling in a jihad of epic proportions.

It was not until well into the afternoon or early evening that the true picture of the day’s events became known. The startling revelation of Israel’s air power superiority, coupled with its armored division successes, exceeded even the most optimistic expectations of the 19-year-old country’s supporters. 

Sometimes it is hard for contemporary observers to fully comprehend the fragility of Israel’s existence. From being considered a David facing the Arab Goliath in 1967, the roles have been reversed in the ensuing 45 years. Yet even today a visitor to Israel cannot be anything but wary when hostile borders surround the state, which is but a speck of green in an otherwise sandy expanse. Artillery fire could easily reach Israel’s population centers back in 1967. As it can today. It’s too much to expect friendly neighbors. Secure, peaceful borders, however, are legitimate demands. But if one side is still determined to annihilate you, rising up early to kill them is not just a biblical injunction, it’s a present day imperative. 

News from the Weekend

One of the recurring themes of this year’s presidential election is the effort to portray Mitt Romney and family as being more than slightly different than the average Joe, Jane and their children. The Romneys do, after all, have a net worth in the $220 million range.

Nonetheless, I have no doubt Mitt and Ann can identify with coupon-cutting families across the country. Of course, the coupons Mitt and Ann are clipping are from zero coupon bonds, but what the heck, they have to cut along the dotted lines, as well, to get their money. 

Chilly enough for you (at least those of you in the northeast)? With temperatures barely in the 60’s, with the skies mostly overcast, I think I may have jinxed the weather for everyone by removing our heated mattress pad on Saturday for a summer hiatus. Who knew the weather gods would react so quickly? Please, accept my apologies.

The weather cooperated over the weekend, first for a Prospect Park picnic Saturday in honor of soon-to-be-son-in-law Donny’s 30th birthday (Ellie cooked delicious fried chicken with several homemade salads) and then on Sunday for Ellie’s bridal shower at our friend Linda’s house. The rains held off until the ladies had retired from the tented garden patio to the comfort of the living room to open presents and eat some scrumptious desserts.

I did the unthinkable Friday night—I switched from watching a NY Yankees game to a NY Mets telecast.

The Yankees had bulletined Johan Santana’s bid for a no-hitter had entered the ninth inning. How could any baseball fan resist being a witness to history? I must say, I was emotionally involved when Santana ended the no-hitter with a flourish, the way it should always end, with a strikeout. 

Santana’s exploits notwithstanding, I’m not ready to abandon the Yankees. But it was heartwarming, for one night, to share in the joy of the “faithful,” long-suffering Mets fan. 

One of the last decisions I pondered while at Chain Store Age in 2009 was to cut the frequency of our monthly magazine down to nine times a year. I bring this up because of an article in today’s NY Times about the choices several daily newspapers have made to trim publication down to several times a week (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/06/04/business/media/as-newspapers-cut-analysts-ask-if-readers-will-remain.html?_r=1&src=me&ref=business).

As it was for me, the decisions tried to balance reduced advertising revenue with the need to cultivate and inform readers on a consistent basis. Ultimately, my management team determined we could not provide monthly publication frequency. I retired before the cuts could be implemented the following year. 

Another Times article caught my eye over the weekend. It too involved my former employer and “gaydar,” the ability to detect someone’s sexual orientation by merely looking at them (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/06/03/opinion/sunday/the-science-of-gaydar.html?_r=1).  

In the early 1980s one of the vice presidents of our company thought I needed an executive editor. He brought a woman candidate to my cubicle for an interview. She was very experienced, but not really interested in business journalism. I enjoyed hearing her background, but we agreed it would not be a great match.

After she left the vice president settled into my office to ascertain my reaction. These were semi-"Mad Men" days, so you’ll pardon his crude choice of words when he asked “if she and I could get into bed together” (possibly in his defense, keep in mind that publications are “put to bed” when they are printed).  

Anyway, I responded “I don’t think so, besides, she’s a lesbian.” How did I know that?, he asked incredulously. Simple, she told me, including the fact she had a relationship with Betty Friedan. 

That was the last time he ever recommended any candidate to me.