Lion Cubs

Our visual world is made up of many bits and pieces. It is the fragments merging together to make up a whole that really make a difference in what we see. Taken alone, these individual parts tend to go unnoticed by most people. For example in architecture, it is the color of the stone, the decoration, the lettering on the sign above the door or the carved letters on a gravestone that help define the structure and create a feeling.

Lettering is a small part of the ornamentation of an architectural structure. It is generally the colossus of the structure itself that grabs the eye first, but if you look carefully and take in the entirety of a structure, a visual reward is there waiting and it is often in the letters of the words that adorn it.

Words are as much a part of our visual landscape as the buildings, streets and trees or the people we see every day. A vibrant visual world indeed. Many of us are inured to the most vulgar visual sights, as well as the sublime. Some of us don’t even notice the first spring flowers or the glowering flashing lights of a neon sign, advertising a dingy car service business. We may take a second glance but we easily move on, letting our eyes wonder aimlessly, registering nothing. But really there is much to admire in the letters of the words that plaster our visual landscape. It is the design of the letters that make words noticeable. Most us recognize what we like in structures all over the city without really even knowing why. Buildings are adorned with incised or raised letters above entryways, signs are brightly lit and splashes of paint in cryptic words jump off building walls on dimly lit streets. These visual displays are designed as a feast for our eyes and it is impressive and purposeful.

On Sept 2. at 6:30 PM, on the 6th floor, Mid-Manhattan will host a FREE slide lecture program “<em>From Gravestones to Graffiti 250 Years of Lettering in New York,” with guest speaker Paul Shaw. Paul Shaw is a designer and design historian. His specialty is lettering, whether written, drawn, carved or typographic. He teaches at Parsons School of Design and at the School of Visual Arts. He is also the author of Looking for Letters in New York: A Tale of Surprise and Dismay. Paul Shaw is the recipient of many prestigious grants and lectures widely. Mr. Shaw is an expert on the subject of letters and can speak eloquently on the design, complexity and craftsmanship of letters that are everywhere from subway signs, to grave markers, to graffiti. Please join us for a wonderful evening.

Books on letter design and graffiti can be found at the library in both the circulating and non-circulating catalogs. Also at the Picture Collection at the Mid-Manhattan Library, there are an abundance of images on letters/alphabets/graffiti that can be viewed.

Upcoming programs at Mid-Manhattan can be found at this link by using the pull-down menus and choosing "Mid-Manhattan" and "programs."

An article on Paul Shaw by New York Times' Streetscapes columnist Christopher Gray.

0ne.. two.. one.. two.. touch, pull, push, glide. Three.. four.. three.. four.. touch, pull, push, glide. Seven.. eight.. seven.. eight.. touch, pull, push, glide. Stroke.. stroke.. breath, stroke.. stroke.. breath. Glide.

The morning sun is refracted in the water. The water shimmers and sparkles. The water is quiet. The lanes are filled with swimmers partaking in a morning ritual. Their arms twirl in a constant rhythm. Their legs kick in sympathy with their arms. From afar it looks and has the feeling of the slow twirl of windmills. And like a windmill, the arms and legs of the swimmers are creating energy, propelling each swimmer forward. Each swimmer’s stroke is unique, like handwriting.

New York Public Library is a business but a business like no other. The library’s sole purpose is to transact in materials not money. Ours is a business based on trust. We lend. The library has millions of dollars in materials and we trust that the people who borrow these materials will return what they take. We hope in as good as condition as possible. Naturally there is wear, that is expected.

The power of the Manhattan Bridge cannot be denied. It is an orchestration of rivet studded girders, harp like cables and beautiful beaux art design and it spans the East River like a dancer leaping across a stage. Her audience is the city of New York and specifically its Brooklyn residents. I ride across her expanse daily via the subway. I always position myself by a window. Once the train is delivered from darkness, I stop what I am reading and look out: out the windows, through the massive metal beams, beyond the walkway and out into the city. It is a ride I never tire of because the beauty is apparent and it is relatively short lived. Slowly the train descends into the tunnel on the other side and the journey continues and my eyes return to the page in the book I am reading.

On a beautiful spring night last week picture story teller Ben Katchor came to Mid-Manhattan to do a reading of his work. I had asked Ben Katchor to come do a program almost a year ago and through many correspondences and date changes Wednesday, May 7th finally arrived. To be honest, I discovered Ben Katchor a few months before I had invited him to speak at the library. In a conversation with a friend, his name was mentioned as someone I should come to know. Ben Katchor I learned is a comic strip creator unlike any before.

His comic strips reveal the absurdity of everyday life. He presents wonderfully drawn scenes, using characters who are quintessentially human. The characters, sometimes subtle and sometimes not, always pack an ironic punch. Katchor has the uncanny ability to show the funny side of the ordinary, the mundane and the pedestrian. His work focuses on the parts the rest of us don’t think about until we happen to read one of his comic strips. The obvious we take for granted is the palette Ben works from. This is where the beauty of Ben Katchor’s work lies. I admire and enjoy his intuitive understanding of what can be funny… for Ben Katchor it is anything.

Ben Katchor has been making comics strips for years and his work has been in many publications, currently his work can be found in Metropolis Magazine. He has published a number of books and written operas. He is constantly working. I was a bit nervous about meeting him because of his stature. He was the recipient of the MacArthur Foundation Fellowship Award, a 500,000 dollar Genius Grant, an award aimed at gifted and largely unrecognized talents. Ben Katchor is a big name and I was enormously proud when he came to Mid-Manhattan to do a reading.

At 6:15 PM the room was filling nicely. I stood at my usual spot in the hallway, greeting the people as they arrived. Ben came into the hallway at one point and we chatted briefly. I discovered he was pleasantly warm and easy to talk to. He expressed pleasure and appreciation of the people arriving. At 6:35 PM my programming director, Debbie Hirsch, suggested we begin. I ushered Ben into the room. I told him I would introduce him and then he could begin. At 6:40 PM I stood at the podium and read my introduction. I then turned the stage over to Ben Kacthor and the lights went dark.

Ben Katchor’s work is wonderful on paper. However Ben’s reading of his panels, displayed huge on a screen is truly special. Frame after frame in beautiful colors appeared in front of us. The written narrative normally seen in his comic strips was hidden from view. Ben read the narratives aloud, in the most calm and understated manner, he then punctuated the narrative with the animated voices of the characters. The audience responded with appreciative laughter throughout the program. 70 people attended a most enjoyable and intimate event.

Picture Story: The Call of the Wall by Ben Katchor

Links to articles on Ben Katchor: Bomb Magazine, Identity Theory

Programming is great. Not only do I get to select the programs I present, I am then rewarded 10 fold by attending interesting and entertaining programs and I get paid for it! What could be better? About a year ago I happened to be reading Christopher Gray’s Streetscapes column in the Real Estate Section of the Sunday New York Times. It is the first column I read in the Sunday paper. Generally the focus of the Streetscapes column is a building. However on Sunday, April 29, 2007 Christopher Gray did something quite different. On that day the Streetscapes column was devoted to a man, Paul Shaw. Mr. Shaw is a designer and design historian, specializing in architectural lettering.

The subject of the article was completely new to me and I found it fascinating, exciting even. In the article Christopher Gray went on a walking tour with Paul Shaw whose focus was on letters: letters on buildings, in the subway and on monuments, letters which appear everywhere in the city. After reading the article I had experienced a visual revelation, allowing me to see beyond my pedestrian eyes. I found myself looking anew at buildings, monuments and signs that before I would glance over.

I knew Paul Shaw would present a wonderful program and decided to invite him to come speak at the library. I contacted Christopher Gray and inquired about Mr. Shaw. Christopher confirmed my thoughts about Paul Shaw and happily provided me with contact information. After receiving Mr. Shaw’s email address I wrote a lengthy email to him, introducing myself and what I do, followed by a polite request for him to come speak at the library. My wishes were granted with a response of “yes, I’d be happy to speak at the library!”

Months went by and then came the creation of the promotional materials for the program. There was further correspondence between Paul and I about content and title of the program. Initially there was some confusion between Paul and I about what the title should be for the program. Paul’s title was, how should I say, not the most exciting it should be to attract an audience. Paul’s title seemed geared to a specific audience, with perhaps more expertise in the field of typographic design, definitely not appropriate for a general audience. We went back and forth on this discussion for a few more emails till Paul understood what I had been politely trying to tell him. We want people to come to the program, not avoid it. “Oh” he said. “You want something more jazzy sounding.” “Yep, exactly!” I said. The next title fell right into the perfect range of jazzy/sexy. Then came the wrangling with the look of the flyer. Naturally Paul wanted to see everything and I was happy to oblige. He is a designer and I was told by my supervisors to expect it. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but it can be problematic. We create an effective, nice looking flyer, with an already established template. It was initially created with lots of input from present and former employees. Hence we produce a solid looking flyer. Many of our patrons have told me how handsome the flyers look and I take this as a good sign. Paul made some comments and some changes and I tried to appease his requests. Finally we came to an agreement on an appropriate flyer that he could be happy with. Phew!

The night of the event we got our biggest crowd ever, 135 attended. And Paul Shaw did not disappoint. If ever there was a blockbuster program, this was it! Paul worked hard on his presentation, you could tell. He had us on the edge of our seats. He presented a program in three parts: letters in the subways, letters on apartment buildings and finally letters on department stores (Paul Shaw counts Lord & Taylor as a former client). Interesting stories, as well as a bit of design theory and history melded into a fascinating and visually exhilarating experience. It's all in a letter, I just never knew how much. Paul Shaw will be coming back in the fall to do another program. I hope you can attend!

Generally in the same subject area, I have included a review of Helvetica, Gary Hustwit’s 2007 documentary that uses the legendary typeface to weave a broader story about typography, graphic design and visual culture in the last half-century.

My father moved into my Brooklyn home about 10 years ago when my mother died, and thus began my career as his personal librarian. When he first moved to Brooklyn, I showed him how to use the bus system so he could travel to and from the Brooklyn Central Library. I gave him a simplified explanation of the Dewey system; telling him what I tell everyone who comes to the reference desk, “think of the number as the address where the subject or book lives on the shelf.” I knew my father’s reading preferences very well and it was with assurance that I sent him to the 940’s to find exactly what he would like. For the most part he took care of his reading material himself, with his weekly jaunts to the library. I would pepper his selections with other books I thought he might enjoy from the collections at Mid-Manhattan. Favorites in the category were Samuel Pepys: The Unequaled Self by Claire Tomalin , Sweet and Low: A Family Story by Rich Cohen, Wild Swans:Three Daughters of China by Jung Chang, The Color of Love: A Mother’s Choice in the Jim Crow South by Gene Cheek and much more. His reading was varied, but mainly it was WWII history he loved and always non-fiction. While at my house he watched no TV. My father just read for his entertainment. As far as I could tell he loved it.

A year and half ago my father became quite ill. I had noticed he did not seem himself so I forced him to go the doctor. I was informed that my father was very sick with congestive heart failure, a common affliction of the elderly. He was so sick there was cause for concern whether he would even live. For 10 days I maintained a presence at the hospital. I sadly watched him turn old right before my eyes. I brought him books while at the hospital but they remained unread. I surmised he was distracted by his plight. Naturally he became depressed. Life was now different and he would have to adjust, or not. The trips to the library would now become memories. Within a matter of days his world became miniscule to what it had been. Miles of travel would now be reduced to blocks, if he was lucky. There was nothing neither he nor I could do; this was life, cruel and ironic.

Once home my father tried to manage a hefty depression. He now had to get used to a new self and that new self would be drastically different from a few weeks before. I brought him books, foolishly thinking reading would be a welcome distraction. How wrong I was. The books gathered dust and their beckoning was left unanswered. I finally broke down and bought him a TV and had cable installed. My kids were thrilled and my father became a zombie in front of the blue screen. He watched for hours and would sleep and then watch more. It broke my heart. He seemed unable to focus on a book. Outwardly he seemed fine, but to me he had become a mere shadow of himself. He no longer seemed an active participant in life, but rather a passive ride taker. I became resigned to my new father and just tried to make him comfortable.

There came a time recently when I brought home two books, the book I was reading A Death in the Family by James Agee and Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides the book I planned to start reading afterwards. My father is Greek and our family is from Detroit so I made a point of showing him Middlesex because of the Greek author and the Detroit setting for his book.

My father in his old age has developed a keen interest in everything Greek. I thought the Eugenides book would interest him, if not to read then to simply marvel at the author’s heritage. To my surprise it was the Agee book that caught his interest. He said about the Agee book, “I always wanted to read this book.” With that, I said “here pops, take it, you read it.” That was months ago and my father has been reading fiction every since. Perhaps by reading fiction my father has been able to recapture a part of life that he has lost in his own life. Author Paul Theroux once said “fiction gives us a second chance that life denies us.” I bring him mysteries like: Georges Simenon, Henning Mankell, Elmore Leonard and other works of fiction from Ian McEwan to Somerset Maugham and many more. I am happy to be of service to my father for as long as it lasts. I am also so thankful to be working at Mid-Manhattan, with such an incredible collection of fiction to choose from.

Finding journal, magazine and newspaper articles at the New York Public Library largely revolves around use of our electronic databases page . While we still offer several print versions of journals, magazines and newspapers, today electronic databases provide the easiest and most comprehensive access to full text articles.

To begin a search for articles, start at www.nypl.org:

Once at our homepage, simply click on "Articles and Databases," The following page should appear:

This page serves as the launching pad to all of the New York Public Library's electronic resources.
"Federated Searching" - What is that?
At the top of the page you will see:

About six years ago when I started working at the Mid-Manhattan Library in the General Reference Collection, a man came to the desk, wanting a book on New York Public Library history. He said the book was written by a woman. The first book that came to my mind was Phyllis Dain’s New York Public Library: A History of its Founding and Early Years. At that moment I did not know the call number but I knew its location on the shelf. I pulled the book from the shelf and gave it to him. I gestured for him to take a seat and with a smile he walked over to a table. I went back to my seat.

A half hour later, he came to the desk to return the book and thanked me. I asked if he found what he was looking and with that he told me he was giving a lecture at the National Arts Club that evening. He had come to Mid-Manhattan to do a last bit of fact- checking. The topic of his lecture, New York Public Library history in relation to Andrew Haswell Green. Our conversation was not long, but at the end of it I decided to ask him for his business card. “Gladly!” he replied and then pulled the card out of his wallet and handed it to me. We shook hands and said goodbye. I looked at his card carefully, looked at the name. Up to that point though we had engaged in a lively conversation, however we had not exchanged names. The card said in bold lettering “Rediscovering Andrew Haswell Green NYC’s Forgotten Visionary” and under this in small letters was the name Michael Miscione. Almost half the card was taken up with a photo of a man from the neck up, his bearded visage serene, confident. The man, no doubt, Andrew Haswell Green. Once off the desk, I put the card away in my desk and thought about what an interesting hour it had been.

Later I looked up Andrew Haswell Green. He was a very prominent figure among the movers and shakers in New York City in the late 19th century and he was integral to the establishment of Central Park and New York City as we know it today, by combining the boroughs in 1898. Green was instrumental in creating the famous grid of streets and avenues that help to define Manhattan. He also was a major participant in the establishment of The New York Public Library and the Metropolitan Museum. You name it--Haswell was involved in every iconic facet of what we know to be New York City for the latter part of the 19th century. Unfortunately, he was murdered by a crazed individual who mistook him for someone else and his name sank into obscurity. That is until Michael Miscione came along. Michael Miscione has been a one-man force in trying to revive the name Andrew Haswell Green and his importance in New York City History.

I kept Michael Miscione’s card in my desk along with other cards that I felt may somehow be important to me one day. That day came last year, many years after we had first met. When I was asked by my supervisor to begin doing programs in late 2006, I was at first a reluctant participant. Once I started doing programs, I discovered I really liked it and that is where my programming passion began. As I searched for interesting and dynamic programs, my thoughts went all over the place. Everything I read, saw or heard suddenly had an import beyond its initial interest. A potential program was in everything I experienced.

I decided to contact Michael Miscione to speak at the library. I knew he lectured based on our one encounter many years ago. And more important I knew he would be interesting. New York City- related programs are always a draw. We get hundreds of questions about New York City; patrons can’t get enough of the subject, me included.

After many attempts at contacting Michael Miscione, I finally reached him. I relayed the story of how we met many years ago and why I saved his card and ultimately why I was calling him that day. Initially he hesitated and then like a rubber band being shot, he remembered the encounter almost exactly as I did, except he could go onto to remember a really successful lecture he gave that evening at the National Arts Club. I thought to myself “Bingo! Cyn you just got yourself a really good program.” Michael was more than happy to come and speak at the library. I learned that he was the Borough of Manhattan Historian, that he was a filmmaker, and he was in fact as interesting as I found him to be many years before.

Michael Miscione has come twice to speak at the library. The first program he presented in the spring of 2007 was The Combining of the Boroughs of 1898 and the Establishment of New York City. He presented his second program this past February: The People vs. Wayne Boyd: The Murder Trail That Nearly Redrew The Map of New York City.

Both talks were the best that programming could offer. Slide lectures with wonderful historic photographs were supported by a dynamic speaker whose command of his subject takes the viewer on a most exciting intellectual ride. One hundred people attended each program. Michael Miscione will be speaking again on Monday, November 17, 2008. I encourage New York City history enthusiasts to mark their calendars now. You won’t be disappointed!

Early one morning, as I pulled myself up from the bathroom floor with a most terrible headache, I swore an oath to never drink again. I vowed to empty the rest of that demon vodka down the sink, thwarted only by the fact that I had drunk all of it the night before and there was none left to dispose of. I made a promise to myself to remain sober and self-possessed throughout the remainder of my days, and while I have thus far failed miserably in this endeavor, I nonetheless continue to derive strength and inspiration from the many images of drunken folly archived in The Picture Collection. Created during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, when that most beloved of crusades, the temperance movement, gained particular momentum in the United States and Europe (capped off by that very successful and victorious era in U.S. history known as Prohibition), these images very acutely document the destructive and evil forces of alcohol. When I am overcome with temptation, which is always (I am swigging from a bottle of absinthe right now), I look at these images in order to be reminded of the foolishness of my ways, and now I am posting them online so that you, dear readers, will benefit as well. As these pictures make perfectly clear, without immediate intervention we will all soon be terrible mothers, fathers, wives and husbands, make spectacles of ourselves at fashionable parties, fall into debt and poverty, dress in rags, be mocked and jeered at by children, wind up arrested, in court, in prison and insane, commit murder and/or suicide, and be visited by devils while sleeping in our beds at night. Shall I go on? Of course not – you can see the end results for yourself.

Related: The Picture Collection's images of New York City Saloons

One recent rainy day in the Picture Collection of Mid-Manhattan Library, just shuffling through a fistful of photos, we happened upon this–uh, SIGNED photo of Henry James.

Now we are loathe to confess it, but Mr. James is one of those rare writers of whom we have developed a pronounced preference for the Big Screen versions of his works over the textual alternatives. Who could forget Helena Bonham Carter distractedly roaming the dark streets of Venice in Wings of the Dove? Or Christopher Reeve tripping over the love that dare not speak its name in The Bostonians? Or Cherry Jones’ tour de force as The Heiress? (Okay, it was on the stage, but still…) Despite our lowbrow taste for Mr. James served up as entertainment (well, Colm Toibin’s masterful fiction about James wasn’t exactly an endorsement of Mr. James’ personal character), we were pleased to think we might turn the Berg Collection green with envy–until we examined the signature a little more closely and found ourselves terrified. The pen that signed the portrait scrawled the date: Jan. 3, 1918. Yet the hand that penned the novels last moved in this world on Feb. 28, 1916. So who IS this Miss Jordan, who prompted Mr. James to journey so far from that undiscovered country merely to send her his regards? We also express our admiration for the skill of the photographer, H. Walter Barnett, who has caught perfectly that otherworldly look about the eyes.

(Perhaps the stroke of Mr. James' pen was cramped and the date was actually Jan. 3, 1908? Mind you, I only conjecture....)

The Morgan Library
One of the gems of the city is the Morgan Library located on Madison and 36th Street, literally just around the corner and down the block. I fell in love with the place 26 years ago and I have never stopped loving it. To me it is the one of the most intimate spots in the city, more so before the Renzo Piano reconstruction but still really wonderful.
I like it for a couple reasons: first because the shows are never big; they can’t be. It is always a one-room experience and that is just about right for my eyes. Secondly, to see the actual personal rooms of Morgan never fails to completely humble me to the extent of what great, great wealth can accomplish. Morgan’s rooms take my breath away. If a room had a sound, Morgan’s library would be a cacophony of noise, screaming a beautiful symphony of sound, moving forth in all directions, mingling and mixing and highly organized, nothing left to chance. There is a sparkling brilliance to the library; it is rich in colors, design and textures. You can take it in generally and simply let its beauty surround you or study the detail of this glorious and complex room. It’s all there and never should be missed.
Morgan’s study is a different matter all together. Awash in vermilion and wood, it is serene in comparison, warm and inviting. Despite its grandiose quality, Morgan must have spent many an hour in this room talking about the world with his guests. He is everywhere in the room, you feel him and see him twice on the wall in big handsome portraits. To my surprise, you can now see Belle de Costa Green’s office, Morgan’s first librarian and then longtime director of the Morgan Library. Her room is the smallest but no less elegant. All the rooms are rich and sumptuous, constructed with the finest materials in the world and attest to the power of the man who amassed a fortune and then created one of the premier institutions in the country if not the world. Yeah Morgan!

The current show at the Morgan is Michelangelo, Vasari, and Their Contemporaries: Drawings from the Uffizi
http://www.themorgan.org/exhibitions/default.asp
I decided to go opening night. Normally attending a show on the day it opens would be out of the question, but on Fridays after 7:00 PM The Morgan is free. I decided to give it a shot. I often like to go see an exhibit twice. This is akin to reading a passage a few times over to truly savor its magic and artistry. I was a bit weary when I entered, there was a fairly long line at the coat check and I thought the evening to be doomed. I sidled up to a guard and asked if I needed to check my coat and two bags. He looked at me and my two bags and thought for a minute then said “nah, you can go on in.” Happily I pushed through the big glass door that takes you to the gallery and then to my delight I entered the gallery and it was not crowded. I could view the exhibition unfettered–always a plus.
I am not an expert in drawing, I don’t understand the traditions and could not tell you about the influences. What I will say is that drawing often allows you to see the inner workings of the artist and it always reveals the subtle yet extremely powerful skill of the artist; it can be the draftsmanship or the emotion or feeling the artist was able to impart to the picture. Drawing is spare but the level of complexity that can be achieved with very few materials always astounds me. In any show there are always favorites and for me there were a few.
Giovanni Stradanus’ The Allegory of the Immortality of Poetry. The theme is wonderful and the description card nicely lays out what is happening in this involved little gem. Compositionally it is triangular and there are nice elements that help guide your eye from left to right. A beautiful classical arch is in the middle ground, steering you to focus on The Three Fates. In the foreground is the winged figure of Time, an extraordinary figure completely unaware of the otiose task he has taken up. According to the description card Time is tossing papers inscribed with names into the river. Geese save them as quickly as he tosses them, ferrying the allegorical pieces of papyrus up a meandering river to the background where nymphs attach the saved papers to columns in the Temple of Immortality. It is an intricate piece, with a fairy tale quality to it, very detailed though not wrought. It is lovely to look at again and again.
In the show were also wonderful battle scenes and triumphal march scenes, all detailed and complex in composition. Lastly, a couple flawless studies  kept my eyes busy for good long while.
Baccio Bandinelli Studies of Heads and Poppi Francisvo Vandini ’s Four Heads
Finally, for those of you who want to read a really excellent stand out biography of Morgan, Jean Strouse’s Morgan: An American Financier is the one. http://www.nytimes.com/books/99/03/28/reviews/990328.28lingemt.html
Last year a biography of Bella de Costa Green (it’s on my list to read!) by Heidi Ardizzone was published: An Illuminated Life: Belle da Costa Green’s Journey from Prejudice to Privilege
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/product-description/0393051048/ref=dp_proddesc_0?ie=UTF8&n=283155&s=books

I admit it, I have a very short attention span when it comes to fiction. That’s why short story collections ( like Miranda July’s No One Belongs Here More than You: Stories ) and graphic novels (like Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home: a Family Tragicomic) are good for me. I think the last novel that I got through in one continuous reading was Lisa See’s Snow Flower and the Secret Fan. Now I’m reading Junot Diaz’ The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao and I think I’m actually gonna get through this one. Maybe it’s because it’s told from different points of view…maybe it’s because of Diaz’ awesome style of writing that combines street and literary language…maybe it’s because the title character’s last name rhymes with my own, and Oscar would have been my middle name if I were a boy.

In bits and pieces of metal and muck a different type of life rained down upon the street below and I could not stop thinking about what goes on high above our heads. This as a result of the recent spate of tragedies of men and debris falling to the street from above, far above. Before Christmas two window washers crashed to the street below along with their scaffolding from 47 floors above. Miraculously one man lived. Just last week a construction worker fell from roughly the same height along with part of the floor and thousands of pounds of wet cement.
At any given time, many, many floors above our heads there is a whole world taking place. We see it only in spats, most of us carry on oblivious to what is happening above us. Things are being hauled up and down, unbelievably heavy things, things that would cause great damage if they were to fall, things that would splatter the flesh in an instant. For the most part nothing comes down upon us unexpectedly. From time to time things drop from the sky as though giant invisible hands with nimble fingers have plucked people and metal and tossed them down. Sometimes massive objects do topple over upon us. Will the scrim of scaffolding really protect us? Despite our ability to reign in nature, from time to time, she says “tsk, tsk, tsk little darlins that is not physics, you can’t fool mother nature…KABOOM!” And so it was with the most recent tragedies. Horrifying, terrifying and exhilarating incidents that make the heart race when you stop to think about it. Surprisingly, for the most part, the innocent below are untouched. Even more disturbing is that these incidents occur on the bustling streets of New York City.
Midtown construction work is constantly going on, often high above our heads. In the warms months of spring and summer I was a regular audience at many of the sites. It was fascinating and exciting I returned again and again for the thrill. I was riding a virtual roller coaster and the price of admission was free. How could I resist?
Once I was on a side street between 5th Ave and Madison when I noticed almost in the clouds a crane slowly turning with a load attached to a long cable. Enormous weights were in motion to counter balance. It was a ballet of metal and muscle and I had to press my back against the wall of a building as I looked up. Vertigo took my breath away. I could not believe what I was witnessing juxtaposed against the lunch time crowds rushing to and fro. I was mesmerized, enthralled. I vowed to come back everyday and I did. After a while one of workers noticed me and he was willing to answer my myriad of questions. I tried to imagine what it was like to be way up there, the man driving the crane whose only contact with the world is via walkie-talkie. I visited this site often. I was even lucky enough to watch them bring the crane down. I have watched huge cooling systems being hoisted to the tops of tall buildings. I have watched heavy loads of I-beams go up with the wave of a hand above 42nd Street as crowds and traffic go about their business below. I even saw a load of construction material ready to go up suddenly spring loose from the thick metal cables that bound it. The look on the workmens’ faces revealed how truly lucky we all were.
I look forward to the warm months when I can watch the events of the building on the corner of 6th Ave and 42nd St unfold and discover new sites where I can watch this mechanical matinee. The canopy layer of our concrete forest is as rich with life as any tropical forest.

Let’s take a look back over the years at some of the hardware and software I worked with at Mid-Manhattan Library.
Middle to late 1980s
IBM PC, XT and AT models with 128 -256 KB memory; 1 or 2 floppy 360K disk drives;
12″ monochrome green monitor; keyboard; 10-20 MB hard drive (optional);
DOS 3.0-4.0; $2,500 or more.
Those computers were heavy and the monitors generated enough heat to warm an office. The keyboards were solid with function keys grouped on the left side. They were easier to reach and to use than at the top of the keyboard.
User manuals came in small ring binders, packed with useful information on formatting floppy disks, etc.
HP LaserJet 2 ($2,700.); Epson dot-matrix($300.); HP ThinkJet ($225.) printers.
The LaserJet really sounded like a jet with a fantastic output of 1 page a minute.
The Epson dot-matrix printers sounded like dentist’s drills and woke up staff in the morning. Quieter HP Thinkjet (ink-jet) printers replaced these alarm clocks.
Infotrac used 12” laserdiscs to distribute data to computers through dedicated wiring.
Later on, they used regular CD-ROM drives which broke down frequently. I remember using unwound paperclips to eject broken CD-ROM caddies.
DOS 3.0; DBASE III for databases; Professional Write for word processing;
Professional File file creator; Lotus 1-2-3 spreadsheets (a tough program to learn).
I miss DOS though - it was simple and straightforward. I could write and edit small programs that controlled the computer. If there were hard drive problems, the FORMAT command wiped them away. Of course that erased all the driver commands to control the printer so I couldn’t print my reports. I learned to be more selective after that.
1989: my first computer virus message: “Your Computer is Stoned. Legalize Marijuana!”
There was also an unnamed virus that decreased memory each time the computer rebooted. Couldn’t figure out how it did that.
Computer manufacturers had live people (no voicemail!) at their tech support centers. They solved problems within a half-hour and even called you back later to see if the solution held up.
Library staff performed DIALOG searches for the public, free of charge. After a short reference interview, one scanned the DIALOG reference book for the appropriate database that could answer the question. No Googling here – you had to know your AND, OR, and NOT.
Early to mid 1990s
ZEOS 386, Gateway 2000 486;512 MB to 1 GB RAM; 40 to 80 MB hard drives;
DOS 5 and above; 3 ½” diskette drives; color monitors with grainy graphics; WordPerfect 5.0 and 6.0 (DOS version) HP LaserJets 3,4, 5 and 6. Prices drop for computer equipment prices drop and they become commodities rather than oddities.
Before the Internet hit, we bought several computers and Pioneer CD-ROM changers to provide the public with access to six CD-ROM databases from one computer. They worked well and the Library got their money’s worth out of them.
Windows 95 debuts at MML and I’m not thrilled with it. I can still use DOS.
WordPerfect chugs along in a few staff computers but MS-Word becomes the Library’s word processing standard. Does anyone remember (and miss) using WordPerfect’s Reveal Codes feature for text formatting?
The Library installs networked Internet computers for the public on all floors with Netscape Navigator as a web browser. Each computer has its own printer and paper mill.
Staff computer networks take shape slowly. Lotus cc:Mail replaces telephone conversations to some extent. We still use typewriters for typing labels.
The MML On-Line Office gets more calls about computer breakdowns. Viruses, hackers and spam – oh my!
Late 1990s to mid 2000s
Micron and Dell computers. Average cost is $1,000 apiece. Zip disks are supposed to be the next big thing in storing data but they cost too much to be useful systemwide.
No more manuals or free tech support. Help is available online – if the computer works.
Free Click–on computer classes for the public begin. Students use laptops to access the Internet through wireless local area connections. One of “Murphy’s Laws on Technology” seems apt: Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.
The Internet has really exploded and more viruses show up. Aren’t software upgrades supposed to be less restrictive?
Somehow, working with computers isn’t as fun as it used to be.

“No place affords a more striking conviction of the vanity of human hopes than a public library; for who can see the wall crowded on every side by mighty volumes, the works of laborious meditations and accurate inquiry, now scarcely known but by the catalogue…”
Samuel Johnson: Rambler #106 (March 23, 1751)http://www.samueljohnson.com/writing.html
 I’m a little less than halfway through George Gissing’s New Grub Street (1891)[http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Grub_Street], a delightfully gloomy late Victorian novel about (among other things) the writer’s life and the uneasy relationship between art and commerce. It’s a remarkably well written, insightful and contemporary-feeling book, one that came highly recommended from friend of a friend. Interestingly enough, this book has been the subject of an issue of Harvey Pekar’s American Splendor [”Grubstreet U.S.A.” American Splendor No. 11 - http://www.metroactive.com/papers/metro/08.21.03/splendor-0334.html].
I haven’t gotten to the end of it yet, so I can’t talk about the book with any real authority (not that I’ll be able to do so after reading it either). Nonetheless, I’d like to share with everyone a passage that I came across (in chapter VIII) that has to do with the main reading room of the British Museum. It provides a nice description of what I’ve oftened imagined to be the inner life of some of the people here at Mid-Manhattan (the ones with their heads down on the tables), and also offers a wonderfully inventive and funny riff on the maddening, almost mechanical way that the books here in The Library beget other books, which beget other books, which … 
I didn’t expect to find in books of this era a passage so light and grim at the same time - it’s sort of like the Sorcerer’s Appretice segment in Disney’s Fantasia, meets Thomas Malthus, meets Rube Goldberg, meets the Espresso Book Machine, meets …
You get the point. Here’s the passage:
“… The days darkened. Through November rains and fogs Marian [Yule, the daughter of (and researcher for) a bitter and somewhat unsuccessful writer/editor] went her usual way to the Museum, and toiled there among the other toilers. Perhaps once a week she allowed herself to stray about the alleys of the Reading-room, scanning furtively those who sat at the desks [for the young, up-and-coming writer Jasper Milvain], but the face she might perchance have discovered was not there.
One day at the end of the month she sat with books open before her, but by no effort could fix her attention upon them. It was gloomy, and one could scarcely see to read; a taste of fog grew perceptible in the warm, headachy air. Such profound discouragement possessed her that she could not even maintain the pretence of study; heedless whether anyone observed her, she let her hands fall and her head droop. She kept asking herself what was the use and purpose of such a life as she was condemned to lead. When already there was more good literature in the world than any mortal could cope with in his lifetime, here was she exhausting herself in the manufacture of printed stuff which no one even pretended to be more than a commodity for the day’s market. What unspeakable folly! To write — was not that the joy and the privilege of one who had an urgent message for the world?
Her father, she knew well, had no such message; he had abandoned all thought of original production, and only wrote about writing.
She herself would throw away her pen with joy but for the need of earning money. And all these people about her, what aim had they save to make new books out of those already existing, that yet newer books might in turn be made out of theirs? This huge library, growing into unwieldiness, threatening to become a trackless desert of print — how intolerably it weighed upon the spirit!
Oh, to go forth and labour with one’s hands, to do any poorest, commonest work of which the world had truly need! It was ignoble to sit here and support the paltry pretence of intellectual dignity. A few days ago her startled eye had caught an advertisement in the newspaper, headed ‘Literary Machine’; had it then been invented at last, some automaton to supply the place of such poor creatures as herself to turn out books and articles? Alas! the machine was only one for holding volumes conveniently, that the work of literary manufacture might be physically lightened. But surely before long some Edison would make the true automaton; the problem must be comparatively such a simple one. Only to throw in a given number of old books, and have them reduced, blended, modernised into a single one for to-day’s consumption. …”

A friend of mine who is a waitress shared an observation with me.  We’ve all heard the stereotype of the ugly American traveling abroad: loud, rude and uncultured.  Lately, however, these words more fittingly describe the European tourists who have recently been visiting her well-known West Village restaurant.  I’ve also noticed many European tourists in Midtown, and they can most often be found on the sidewalk in front of the Main Library carrying multiple shopping bags and taking pictures of each other.
European tourists are supposed to be cultured, elegant and polite.  What happened?  My friend attributes this change to the fall of the formerly mighty dollar.  In the past, the average American who was good with her money could afford to go abroad and gaze at the Eiffel Tower, raise a pint of Guinness or ski the Swiss Alps.  Now we can’t afford to go away, but Europeans have been crossing the Atlantic in droves. 
With so many foreign travelers in New York, some of them are bound to be rude.  And maybe being a good tourist takes some practice, which many of the recent tourists seem to lack.  My friend and I are happy that the more people around the world are able to come to New York and see it first-hand.  But we would also like it if they realized that it’s impolite not to tip in a restaurant, and that we need our precious little sidewalk space for getting around.

When I was a kid, I knew that grown-ups used big words with meanings I didn’t understand. There was always the assumption that as I got older, I’d learn these as a matter of course. In the meantime, however, I could always make up definitions based on other words I knew that sounded like the new one. Some of them still stick with me because, in my opinion, they’re better than the real things. For example …
I heard that someone had “matriculated”. This is a rather pompous way of saying that he or she had signed up for college, but I didn’t know that. So, what did it sound like. The main elements seemed to be “may”,”trickle” and “late”. “MAy TRICkle Until it’s too LATE” suggested itself very quickly thereafter. What could trickle until it’s too late? Aha! Matriculate means to bleed internally for a long time without knowing it until you suddenly keel over dead on the spot. I was already writing my epic, never-to-be-published story of an imaginary empire, so this new word fit effortlessly into the growing, convoluted plot.
“Old King Uzz was taking a bath when he banged himself rather sharply on one of the faucets. He looked down and saw only a small bruise on his side, but he didn’t know he had busted his thyrax and it was bleeding into his divercreas. He went about his daily business hunting dinosaurs and reviewing his army in the nude. All the while his blood was running inside, drip, drip, drip. In the evening he went to a huge state dinner in his palace in the city of ‘Poo. After eating he burped up a big bubble of blood and fell dead with his face in a cake. The palace doctor said he must have matriculated for hours.”
I wrote this when I was twelve years old and felt mighty proud of it then. I still do, and I haven’t lost my affinity for puns and other wordplay. Every odd word I hear automatically goes through the rolling and smelting mill of my mind where it’s compared to other words and filed away for future use. People’s names evoke a particularly strong response and, by their mere sound, can evoke responses ranging from euphoria to something akin to having smelled something nasty. This may verge on something called “synesthesia”, but that’s another story.
The whole point of this posting is to encourage people to learn lots of new words. Find out what they really mean, but make something up on the way to the dictionary. It’s lots of fun, and often what you invent is way better than the real thing.

New Yorkers know that waiting in line is a fact of life. But there are ways that you can make your visits to the library faster and smoother.
Entering the building. First of all, open your bag as soon as you walk through one of the three doors on 5th Avenue.  All bags must be checked by the security guard. Bags, suitcases and cellos larger than a airplane carry-on are not allowed into the library. Click here to see our bag check policy.
Asking questions. The Courtesy Desk at the entrance can give you basic information and directions for the building. If you have questions about books or materials, however, you must go to one of the Information/Reference Desks. You can save time by going directly to the Information desk for your specific subject. Questions about your account, due dates and renewals should be directed to the Circulation Desk on the 1st floor. Questions about your library card, PIN number and address changes can be asked at the Registration Desk on the 1st floor. Student employees can only direct you to Dewey decimal areas.  Go to the Information Desk to inquire about the availability of books.
Finding your book on the shelf. Each floor is laid out into various collections. You can check out books and other materials at the Circulation Desk on the 1st floor or on the 3rd floor in the Picture Collection.  There are also 3 self check-out machines for books (no videos or CDs) on the 1st floor, and one in the Reserves Room next to the 1st floor Info Desk.
Leaving. Have your items that you have checked out ready to inspect as you leave the building.  Each library item must be accompanied by a receipt.  The circulation desk can offer a new one if you’ve lost yours.  Also open your bag so that it can be inspected upon leaving.  We don’t like looking in your bags, but hey, it’s New York.

My cousin sent me an e-mail asking for my help with a computer problem.  Since I was at work and couldn’t make a house call to New Jersey, here’s how it went after several messages and some editing:
ME: Well, long distance diagnosis is tricky, what’s wrong? 
HIM:  When I boot up my laptop, chkdsk [Checkdisk] gets stuck in a loop and I can’t get out of it unless I turn the laptop off. I can’t even run in safe mode as it freezes. Also, how do I turn off chkdsk from start-up?
 
ME: Chkdsk scans the files on the hard drive for errors and when it finds them, it tries to fix them. I need more info. What’s your laptop brand and how long have you had it?
HIM: Let’s see, Dell Inspiron 6000, had it for 1-1/2 yrs.
M: What Windows version is running and what’s the service pack number?
H:  Windows XP with Service Pack 2
M: Does chkdsk usually start on boot up and was everything running OK before the problem?
H: Yes.
M: When did chkdsk start looping?
H: Just recently after I got a blue screen with chkdsk message telling me to dump files.
M: Did you add, remove or change any software or hardware?
H: Don’t believe so. My son has been using it and he might have downloaded music or something. I don’t like it when he uses aim [AOL Instant Messenger]. Seems like the problem actually started when he was using the machine. There’s also a message about corrupt code 176 in file 10732 or 0732 file. It’s hard to read while it’s endlessly scrolling.
M: AHA! Viruses may hide in AIM, spam email and downloaded programs and files. These are common ways of transmission. Make sure your security software (anti-virus, anti-spam ,anti-spyware, firewall) has the latest updates. Try running the security software from the CD to see if it catches anything.
On the hardware end, your hard drive may be failing if you hear clicking, the motor speeds up, then slows down, etc. This is serious and needs immediate attention.
 
H: If all else fails, I guess I’ll wipe drive and reinstall Windows XP.
M: Make sure you have backups of your files [and programs] before you do that.
You might want to check out this company  www.computeroverhauls.com  A few people told me they did a good job in getting rid of the junk programs and speeding up their PCs. You can bring it in to them or go for the remote tune-up. Let me know how it turns out. Good luck. 
I forgot to ask if he wrote down the Blue Screen message(s)? Sometimes there is a clue there. I searched the Internet for that corrupt code file but didn’t find anything.
Well, I gave it my best shot. I haven’t gotten an answer so I assume things are back to normal.
Wait a minute. If his laptop wasn’t working, how did he send me those e-mails?