Tuesday, December 1, 2015

A Traveling Techie's Tale: NO OUT-OF-THE-WAY PLACES


World's Largest Hockey Stick, Duncan, British Columbia
mixednutslinks.blogspot.com/2015/10/worlds-largest-hockey-stick-puck.html


Rock Cafe on Route 66, Stroud, Oklahoma
mapio.net/s/9931569/

    "...the windows are completely covered
    With the decals from all the places where we've already been

    Like Elvis-O-Rama, the Tupperware Museum
    The Boll Weevil Monument and Cranberry World
    The Shuffleboard Hall Of Fame, Poodle Dog Rock
    And The Mecca of Albino Squirrels

    We've been to ghost towns, theme parks, wax museums
    And the place where you can drive through the middle of a tree
    We've seen alligator farms and tarantula ranches
    But there's still one thing we gotta see

    * * * * * *

    We're gonna see the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota"

      — "The Biggest Ball Of Twine In Minnesota" (1989) by Weird Al Yankovic

On my business travels I always like to take the time "stop and smell the flowers" as they say, if I can. As I wrote in my book A Survival Guide for the Traveling Techie, in the section called "THE FINE ART OF THE MICROVACATION," it is good for one's mental health to find quick but engaging diversions now and then.

A Cornucopia of Delights

Finding diversions is pretty easy in big cities, which offer a cornucopia of delights. For example:

  • In Chicago, Illinois I was able to find the Eastern terminus of Route 66, the ornate art deco Chicago Board of Trade building, and a monument to the first controlled nuclear reaction on the campus of the University of Chicago.

    ( en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nuclear_Energy_%28sculpture%29 )

  • In Atlanta, Georgia it was easy to find Olympic Park, from the 1996 Olympics, with its Coca-Cola museum and nearby CNN Center, but a little more digging got me to the Old Fourth Ward, home to a revitalized restaurant district, the Martin Luther King, Jr. Center, and Oakland Cemetery with the grave of "Gone With the Wind" author Margaret Mitchell.

    ( en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Fourth_Ward )

  • In Austin, Texas one can watch a million bats fly out from under a bridge where they've made a home, and visit the historic nightclub Threadgill's, where Janice Joplin first performed. Try the cheesy grits!

    ( www.threadgills.com )

  • In the greater Los Angeles, California area, which probably has more tourist attractions than any other metropolis in North America, there is a unique bookstore and art gallery called Wacko, devoted mostly to pop culture, that is absolutely fascinating. The Paley Center (formerly the Museum of Broadcasting) in Beverly Hills had a vast library of vintage television shows you can watch. And hidden in Griffith Park is the old miniature railroad maintenance barn from Walt Disney's back yard.

    ( www.laughingplace.com/News-ID500820.asp )

Hidden Gems

Smaller cities also have hidden gems. It pays to ask around. Among the treasures I have found:

  • In Columbus, Ohio there used to be the original first location of the Wendy's fast-food chain, complete with mini-museum of advertising. (Remember "where's the beef?") The house American humorist James Thurber grew up in is now a museum dedicated to him — the actual location of the story "The Night the Bed Fell" that many of us read in grade school.

    ( www.thurberhouse.org/thurber-house-museum-and-thurber-center.html )

    ( www.newyorker.com/magazine/1933/07/08/my-life-and-hard-times-i-the-night-the-bed-fell )

  • In smaller Cincinnati, Ohio (which inexplicably has nothing commemorating the beloved TV show "WKRP In Cincinnati") I found, down by the river at the Cincinnati Public Landing, a scale model of the Ohio River in its entirety, and nearby a replica of the largest steamboat paddles ever built and a grove of steamboat whistles at the National Steamboat Monument.

    ( cincinnatiusa.com/things-to-do/attractions/national-steamboat-monument )

  • In Athens, Georgia I mentioned to a nice lady at a customer site that I had some time before my flight and she directed me to several things worth seeing. The town is the origin place of two rock bands, the B-52s and R.E.M., and the latter used a photograph of an old ruined railroad trestle for the back cover of one of their albums. They also named another album "Automatic for the People" after the slogan of a small and hard to find but wonderful barbeque restaurant, Weaver D's. (It was reported to be closing in 2013, but Yelp.com says it is thankfully still in business, probably after being sold.)

    ( www.eater.com/2013/11/5/6336657/athens-ga-restaurant-behind-r-e-m-s-automatic-for-the-people-to-close )

Why Is This Here?

I've found that it often pays to ask folks you are visiting why this place is here — what was the original reason for the founding of the town? Usually the first few people you ask have no idea, and maybe even never thought about it before, and possibly think you are nuts for wondering. But if you keep asking, often someone eventually realizes you need to talk to "that guy" (or gal), another nut, who works in their office. And then you hit the mother lode. You have the local history fanatic, who can fill you in on the whole story. You may find, for example, that the town was founded because of a sea port (like San Diego, California), or a bend in the river where a cargo dock was built (like Bend, Oregon), or a pass through the mountains suitable for a railroad (like El Paso, Texas). Other examples:

  • Columbus, Ohio is at the confluence of two rivers.

  • Barstow, California (originally called "Forks in the Road") is at a major wagon road fork that later became a huge railroad switching yard.

  • San Antonio, Texas was founded near an irrigation dam that was the first Spanish waterworks in the United States.

  • Las Vegas, Nevada (Spanish for "the meadows") had a spring which created a marshy green spot, evidence for ground water suitable for water wells in the arid Mojave desert.

  • The Minneapolis-Saint Paul metropolis is there because (before some dams were built) if you paddled up the Mississippi River from New Orleans the first obstruction to stop you was St. Andrew's Falls in Saint Paul, Minnesota.

Places I Never Heard Of

Some of my most fascinating discoveries came in places I'd never heard of before I visited (or so I thought):

  • I asked folks in Bellingham, Washington if they had a claim to fame, and they told me comedian Ryan Stiles of Whose Line Is It Anyway? fame and alternative band Death Cab for Cutie both hailed from there. Stiles founded the local Upfront Theater. Upon returning home I mentioned all this to my wife, and she pointed out that in science fiction novel Footfall by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle — which I'd read — the town is destroyed as collateral damage in a war between Earthlings and elephant-like aliens.

  • I found out in Evansville, Indiana that the town was the setting for the TV sitcom Roseanne, with many establising shots filmed there, and also portions of the movie A League of Their Own were shot there. Nearby in Santa Claus, Indiana (48 miles) is Holiday World, a theme park based on the Fourth of July, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, which I would like to visit one day.

    ( www.holidayworld.com )

  • When I was sent to Stroud, Oklahoma I had to look it up on a map to figure out how to fly in, and found it was on old Route 66 halfway between Tulsa and Oklahoma City. I flew into Oklahoma City because the airport is larger, rented a car, and drove the old highway to get there. When I came upon the Rock Cafe in Stroud (pictured above) I stopped for lunch, and from the menu I learned that the building was made of rocks dug up to build the old highway in the 1930s. I also learned that when John Lasseter and his crew from Pixar toured the old highway researching for the movie Cars in 2001, they arrived after closing but proprietor Dawn Welch opened up her kitchen and made them all dinner. They took a liking to the place and to her, and used it as their headquarters in susequent Route 66 explorations. The character of Sally the Porsche in Cars was based on her (a fact confirmed in the "making of" featurette on the DVD).

    ( en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rock_Caf%C3%A9 )

  • My first visit to Binghamton, New York seemed incredibly out of the way. I was also visiting central Massachusetts (Lunenburg, near Worcester) and to get to Vestal, a suburb of Binghamton where I had a brief appointment, I was going to have to drive an hour back to Boston and then fly for five hours via New York City. I elected to drive directly there for four and a half hours instead. (I was visiting to resolve a customer problem, which it turned out took about 30 seconds, but I stayed for a about four hours to provide additonal software training and then took him to lunch since it had taken so long to get there.) But I found to my amazement that Binghamton had a number of claims to fame. It has the largest collection of wooden horse merry-go-rounds in the USA. Nearby Endicott was the birthplace of IBM Corporation (originally the International Time Recording Company, which made time clocks and other punch card machines). In the airport while departing on a subsequent trip I saw an old Link Trainer, a failed carnival ride that was repurposed as the first aircraft simulator for training pilots in World War Two, and from the display learned that simulator company Link Miles, which later merged with Redifusion, got its start there. (Upon my return home I mentioned this to my dad and he told me he'd made a number of business trips to Binghamton when I was a teenager, to arrange for his employer Pacific Southwest Airlines to buy some flight simulators. Apparently he told me about this and I'd forgotten.) But the weirdest connection was that it was the home town of Rod Serling, creator of The Twilight Zone TV show, which I was very fond of. I found some monuments and exhibits devoted to him througgout the town, including a plaque commemerating a bandstand and merry-go-round which inspired the episode "Walking Distance." (Later I told all this to an old friend who responded, "You knew I went to high school in Binghamton didn't you?" Cue Twilight Zone music.)

    placard honoring Rod Serling in Recreation Park, Binghamton, New York
    ( www.tripadvisor.com/ShowUserReviews-g47320-d103777-r288196796-Recreation_Park_Carousel-Binghamton_New_York.html )

    The Tip of the Iceberg

    All of this has convinced me that there is no such thing as an "out-of-the-way place," at least anywhere with human inhabitants. Every place has a claim to fame. In preparing this article I had so much material to choose from that I had to leave out far more than I put in. So rest assured, if you find yourself with two hours to kill because of an early finish to an appointment, or a delayed flight, there is probably someplace within a few miles of where you are that has a fascinating story to tell, if only you can find it.


    Disclaimer

    I receive a commission on everything you purchase from Amazon.com after following one of my links, which helps to support my research. It does not affect the price you pay.


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Wednesday, April 8, 2015

A SOCIAL MEDIA EXPERIMENT


'80s Fabrese shampoo commercial

    "Facebook isn't helping you make new connections, Facebook doesn't develop new relationships, Facebook is just trying to be the most accurate model of your social graph. There's a part of me that feels somewhat bored by all of this."

Dear readers, I have a request to make of you. As most of you know, this blog's purpose is to promote my new book, "A Survival Guide for the Traveling Techie," which has been for sale on Amazon.com since late last year. Perhaps some day this blog will have a gazillion readers, but for now I'm pretty sure that all of you are one or two "degrees of separation" away from me — in other words, you either know me or someone who does.

Meanwhile, the latest report from Amazon tells me I made three sales in November of 2014, and one sale in March of 2015, for a total of four. One of those was me; I bought my own book just to see how the buying experience went. I know who two others were. This is not exactly "going viral" so far.

If you're worried I'm going to ask you to buy the book for charity's sake, rest you mind at ease. I want happy readers, who will recommend the book to associates. No, I'm just going to ask you to pass along a link to this blog to anyone you know who might be a good fit: someone who travels on business, and/or does technical work, or perhaps a student graduating soon who plans to go into a related field.

The reason I am doing this is because of something I read about the mathematics of social networks a few years back. Since the onset of the internet we have much better data on social networks, and so theory has been improving quickly. The fact that jumped out at me is: most successful networking is done through weak connections. If you're looking for a job or customers or even a date, the people closest to you probably are already aware of this. It's the friends-of-friends who are most useful for finding new opportunities in such a network.

$10 Rebate Offer


Alexander Hamilton

And why am I doing this? Well, I don't know much about marketing, but I've been trying to learn, and I asked a coworker who I thought did it well for advice, and she recommended "Marketing for Dummies" (1997) by Alexander Hiam.

From this book I learned that you must be able to measure the effectiveness of a marketing effort, in order to be able to learn from it. I am paying this rebate to find out how effective it is to ask you all to promote this blog entry for me. We shall see.

And one more promise: I will make sure to report here how this turns out. Maybe we can all learn something.

So, you might be wondering, why should I care about this book anyway? Here is a short explanation from the Foreword, called "WHO NEEDS THIS BOOK?"

    You need this book if you travel on business in the United States and Canada as a technical expert, or if you are a sales person or other representative for a small company and must function as your own technical expert.

    You need this book if you have ever been faced with a demo on your laptop and a projector in some other company's conference room that wouldn't work with it.

    You need this book if you've ever had a sales prospect tell you, "We have to make a decision in three weeks or we lose our money."

    You need this book if you've ever run a long phone cord down the hall to the nearest FAX machine and hijacked its phone line so you could dial out to the Internet from a conference room — or, if that's too old school for you, if you've ever pirated a WiFi signal from a business next door to a client site to get a demo working.

    You need this book if you've ever spilled a latte on the carpet of your company's brand new, beautiful trade show booth.

    You need this book if you've ever missed the last exit to Cambridge and ended up on the causeway to Revere, or gotten off a freeway "temporarily" in Oakland and discovered there was no corresponding onramp, or gotten stuck in a severe traffic jam on the Hollywood Freeway and then seen a "Haz Mat" vehicle passing on the right shoulder, or been caught in a torrential downpour trying to get to your car at the Orlando Convention Center, only to be unable to tell your rented red Cadillac from all the other rented red Cadillacs.

    Whether they call you a Systems Analyst, Systems Engineer, Sales Engineer, Customer Engineer, Consulting Engineer, Consultant, Chief Architect, Chief Scientist, Vice President of Software Development, or the owner of the business, you need this book if it's ever been your job to show up somewhere and make something work.

      — "A Survival Guide for the Traveling Techie" (2014) Alan B. Scrivener

P.S.

If you'd like more detailed information of the branch of math called graph theory which applies to social networks, see the article "Excursions in Graph Theory" in my e-Zine "Cybernetics in the 3rd Millennium (C3M)" Volume 10 Number 2, July 2012.

( www.well.com/user/abs/Cyb/archive/c3m_1002.html#sec_2 )


Disclaimer

I receive a commission on everything you purchase from Amazon.com after following one of my links, which helps to support my research. It does not affect the price you pay.


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Saturday, February 28, 2015

IN MEMORIAM: AUBREY DUNNE

Aubrey Dunne

    "Consider the following subtraction problem, which I will put up here: three hundred forty two minus one hundred seventy-three. Now remember how we used to do that: three from two is nine; carry the one, and if you're under thirty-five or went to a private school you say seven from three is six, but if you're over thirty-five and went to public school you say eight from four is six; carry the on so we have one hundred sixty-nine. But in the new approach, as you know, the important thing is to understand what you're doing rather than to get the right answer."
      — "New Math" by Tom Lehrer
        on the album "That Was the Year That Was" (1965)

        ( ISBN-10: B000002KO7 )

The other day I saw a "sig" line on somebody's web post that said something like: "I became successful because someone was counting on me and I didn't want to disappoint them." I thought that sounded about right. I remember back in 1993 when I went to my first conference devoted to scientific visualization. I decided to take advantage of the collection of luminaries in one place, and I began asking people what had inspired them to enter this new and innovative field.

The most common answer I got was a mentor or teacher who had taken an interest in a student at a critical time.

I've been thinking about this again lately because last fall one of my most important mentors passed away: Aubrey Dunne, who was my seventh and eighth grade math teacher at Parkway Junior High in La Mesa, California, near San Diego. I think the first time I laid eyes on him he was visiting my elementary school (grades K-6) with the junior high school glee club, and they performed "Stout Hearted Men."

When I arrived at junior high school, or middle school (grades 7 and 8 in my school district) it was our first year going to different classrooms all day instead of staying in one room with one teacher. On the first day they had us move from class to class and only spend about 15 minutes in each one, just for practice. Most of the teachers just told us their names and said hello. Mr. Dunne was different: he made everyone stop chattering and told us firmly that we were to report the next day with two W. S. pencils. "What's W. S. stand for?" he barked. Some hands went up. He asked these kids who their older siblings were, who'd been in his class before. He called on one who answered, "well-sharpened."

One the requirements for his class was that we keep a notebook of what we'd learned, and turn it in at the end of the year. I did a great job on my notebooks, and then didn't have to turn them in because I got high test scores, but I insisted on being graded on them anyway. I kept up the habit and the notebook evolved into a journal that I have kept my entire life.

I first heard an example of the comedy music of Tom Lehrer in Mr. Dunne's math class: he played the song "New Math" from "That Was the Year That Was" (quoted above), and provided a visual aid on the chalk board to follow the subtraction problem, first in base 10 and then in base 8.

Recognizing that I was a bright but rambunctious kid, a possible source of either joy or grief for a teacher, he distracted me with projects. The biggest was a bulletin board on the history of mathematics he asked me to make, to fill an odd triangular space above the chalk boards. I went at it with gusto, and so learned how the Egyptians invented geometry to re-survey farms along the Nile after flooding each August.

"One Two Three ... Infinity" cover

He encouraged me to read the mind-expanding math book by George Gamov, "One Two Three ... Infinity" (1947), and other writings by the same author.

When he volunteered to be adult supervision after school when students were departing on foot and bicycles, I used to hang out with him instead of going straight home, and we would talk about various blue-sky ideas. Once I asked him if light, which has mass, could orbit a body. We talked about that for a long time, and concluded the body would have to be extremely dense, but the orbiting light would not escape and so it would be dark. Later we realized from news articles that we had reinvented the black hole in astrophysics.

Once he gave me some excellent career advice, which I still quote; it's on my LinkedIn page.

One Halloween he wrote his address on the chalk board and invited us all to come by and "trick-or-treat" at his house. He and his family had an elaborate presentation ready (including an organ and a coffin) for those of us who were brave enougn to accept the invitation.

Now that I knew where he lived I started dropping by occasionally. It turned out he stayed up late, and encouraged me to come by any time. Sometimes I brought friends. His wife would serve us snacks. It was at one of these late night gatherings that he started playing us the unusual audio stylings of Ken Nordine, who invented a sort-of talking blues style he called "word jazz." One of the pieces was called "Roger," and Aubrey could recite it by heart. He loved to quote:

    "Oh, he had a game, by the way, that he played with me. He had me go to the piano and strike a chord. And then with his back turned on the other side of the room he'd name all the notes. I'd start with simple chords like a C chord or an F chord, and then I'd get a distended eleventh chord or an augmented seventh or a perverted twenty-seventh ... Still he'd name all the notes until I wanted to lean on the piano. He had me on my bloody knees in front of his superiority. And I hated him for having absolute pitch..."

When I got into high school I invited him to social gatherings at my house. I'll never forget the time he showed up for a pool party in a Victorian era swimsuit, knee and elbow length, with red and yellow stripes, and a felt hat and wire glasses that had no lenses. He leapt into the pool off the diving board in this getup. Later he claimed that he'd worn the same outfit to a tour of a new school opening in the district, and wandered about asking, "Where does the learning take place? Show me where the learning takes place."

We continued to be friends for the rest of his life. I would come back to visit, even when I didn't live in the San Diego area, and keep in touch. He also frequently came to birthday parties and other gatherings we invited him to. I made it a point to drop by his place on Halloween to see how his household decorated. The last time I saw him was Halloween 2013. He was in poor health, and the next time I called to check on him, regrettably almost a year later, he had passed away the day before.

His daughter Desiree Dunne Hall asked me to speak for about 10 minutes at his memorial service. Here is approximately what I said:

a goofy picture of Aubrey

    Hello. My name is Alan Scrivener, and I had Aubrey Dunne as my math teacher in seventh and eighth grades at Parkway Junior High in La Mesa, California. I graduated Parkway in 1967.

    After he passed away I posted to Facebook about him, on a page about growing up in La Mesa. I was quite surprised at how many comments it got and how quickly. In just one day there were over 200 follow-up posts.

    One of the common threads I saw was that Aubrey was goofy, or zany: he was fond of pranks, and he sang in a barbershop quartet called "the Sweatermen."

    the Sweatermen (Aubrey Dunne on far right)

    So when Aubrey's daughter Desiree invited me to speak today, I realized I had to come here to defend his reputation. [laughter]

    Aubrey was Up To Something. He was a great teacher. He believed in the idea of "no child left behind" before it was a political slogan. I want you to know that what he taught me has stayed with me. I looked up here today and saw that we are reading Psalm 90 and singing Hymn 671. I immediately thought to myself: "Ninety is ten times nine, and ten is two times five while nine is three times three. So ninety is two times three squared times five, and those are its prime factors. Six hundred seventy one has two factors, eleven and sixty-one, and they are both prime, so those are its prime factors."

    There must be thousands of students who took math from Aubrey at La Mesa Junior High, and later at Parkway Junior High, and of them probably hundreds who are like me, who see a number and immediately find its prime factors.

    Sure, he could be zany and goofy, but those were just tools in his chest. He also be harsh, scary, even mean. He would use whatever technique was needed to connect with an individual student. Let me give you two quick examples.

    This first one I didn't experience, I read about it on Facebook from another one of his students. One year there was a fad at school of students making rubber band guns. Most of the teachers banned them in class, which meant as soon as they turned around to write on the chalk board they got a barrage of rubber bands in the back, and then spent class time trying to figure out who the guilty parties were. Aubrey instead announced that the first five minutes of class were for rubber band wars, and then the guns were to be put away. But if any rubber bands were fired after the five minutes was over, rubber band wars would be cancelled. You didn't want to be the student who spoiled it for everyone else.

    The second example was something he told me about. He used to volunteer for difficult projects. That's how he became a math teacher, even though he didn't take any math in college. Nobody else wanted the job. But one year they had a class of emotionally challenged students that nobody wanted to take, and he volunteered to work with them. After a few days of chaos he concluded that it wasn't just that they didn't want to sit down and be quiet — he thought they literally couldn't do it, because they didn't have the skills. So he gave them concentration lessons. One by one he would bring them up to the front of the room and have them stand still and silent while he would try to distract them with goofy faces, noises, pantomimes, stupid jokes, lurching to startle them, etc. He would time how long they could last until they lost control. Over time they got better.

    This was what he was up to: finding a way to connect with every student. Thank you.

Afterwards the minister lead us in prayer, and we turned our hymnals to 671 and sang "Amazing Grace."


Disclaimer

I receive a commission on everything you purchase from Amazon.com after following one of my links, which helps to support my research. It does not affect the price you pay.


This free service is brought to you by the book:

Saturday, January 31, 2015

A Traveling Techie's Tale: MANHATTAN TRANSFER: SOUL FOOD TO GO

World Trade Center in fog

illustration for a web recipe

    "We got / Cool and hot / Just for you / The pleasures of the soul
    Come on / Come in / And check it out / Soul food to go"
      — "Soul Food To Go (Sina)" by Djawan;
        performed by Manhattan Transfer on the album "Brasil" (1987)

        ( ISBN-10: B000002ILX )

Many of my stories have a moral; not this one. It's just a strange but true tale. It begins by way of background with a discussion of the former World Trade Center in Manhattan, then tells of a quest to find soul food on business trips, and ends up connecting the two through a pointless coincidence. And yet this tale haunts me, so I keep telling it.

* * * * * *

When I lived in Massachusetts in the late 1970s, my wife and I took occasional visits to New York City to sightsee, usually on a tight budget. One gloomy Saturday afternoon we ended up down at Battery Park looking across the harbor at the Statue of Liberty. We then proceeded to wander the lower west side until it became so cold and windy we decided to catch a subway back to the Port Authority to take a Greyhound back home. The problem was we had a low-quality map and no familiarity with the terrain, and we ended up on the wrong side of a complex of skyscrapers. After several false starts trying to cut through the complex we finally went around it, which cost us several blocks. On the east side was a sign at ground level that said, "World Trade Center." I asked my wife, "What's a World Trade Center?" She didn't know.

About a year later we'd wised up to the fact that if you want to see New York, you need a New Yorker to guide you. (This principle is, of course, true many places.) We went back on a weekend visit with a coworker of mine who was born and raised in Brooklyn. He took us to see and do a number of wondrous things, from Times Square after midnight, to a neighborhood Jewish deli, to the Museum of Holography (now absorbed by M.I.T.'s museum in Cambridge, MA) and the Transit Museum (still in NY). He also took us for about a mile walk on the old West Side Highway, abandoned at the time and covered with political graffiti from a protest there, and we ended up at the twin towers of the World Trade Center. He took us to the top to enjoy the view, though he stayed in the cafeteria because he was afraid of heights. It was quite a great way to see Manhattan. Down be low us we spotted brightly colored geometric shapes on the sandy land next to the Hudson River. When we descended we walked over to discover they were painted grape stake fences — an art project designed to be appreciated from the skyscrapers above.

Well, that was delightful, but the buildings themselves were unimpressive to me aside from their record-breaking height. About five years later I read "From Bauhaus to Our House" (1981) by Tom Wolfe.


an old cover of "From Bauhas to Our House"

From this I learned how "Modern" architecture, begun in the 1910s and '20s, had managed to paint itself into a corner by the 1970s and was tyrannized by a long list of "don'ts" — don't use curves, don't use color, don't use decoration, etc. These skyscrapers were merely symptoms of the creative bankruptcy architecture had stumbled into after declaring that "ornament is crime." (This was "fixed" by the Post-Modern movement, which is a whole 'nother story entirely.)

* * * * * *

And now for something completely different. Though both my parents were born and raised in Memphis, TN, I was unaware of Memphis' claim as a birthplace of the blues until about the year 1999. That year I began to learn about the history of the blues — its origins in the cane flutes of slaves (who could be killed for possessing any musical instrument), used to play the three note melodies of their native Africa, the three chord guitar music that evolved out of those early melodies, and the electric guitar riffs of rock 'n' roll pioneers who incorporated blues chords into their work.

Along with this new interest in old music, I also began to appreciate more the southern cooking of my youth. My grandmother, who we called "Grann," used to make my parents, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles and me food like country ham, string beans, biscuits with sorghum molasses, and all kinds of pies: lemon meringue, banana cream, chocolate cream, and my favorite, Karo pecan.

In 1976, on visit to the town of my birth (Gainesville, FL), I was directed to a soul food restaurant on the edge of town called Mama Lo's. Literally on "the other side of the tracks" in a railroad shack, this old black woman had an antique iron stove on which pots of food were bubbling: ham hocks, collard greens, black-eyed peas, grits, etc., and cornbread keeping warm in the oven. As I recall everything was twenty-five cents per serving, and we tried everything.

In my business travels in the '90s and oughts, I began a search for authentic soul food. I'd eaten at places like the Blue Chalk Cafe in Palo Alto, CA, which offered a California Nouvelle cuisine reinterpretation of southern cooking, but that wasn't going to cut it. At the other extreme there was a chain of restaurants in the southeast called Black Eyed Peas, which was sort of the Denny's of soul food. It might do in a pinch.

In the year 2000 I found myself working a trade show at the Orange County Convention Center in Orlando, FL. We were staying at the upscale Omni Rosen Hotel next door, and so I asked the concierge where I could find soul food. She was perplexed; I guess nobody ever asked that question before. Next I tried the Yellow Pages (this was of course before smart phones or Yelp) but all I found was Black Eyed Peas. Upon calling several locations I found all of their numbers were disconnected. Since they were still listed in the phone book, I assumed they had closed down within the last year. I finally ended up at the House of Blues in Downtown Disney, which was more California Nouvelle cuisine. Don't get me wrong, the pan seared gulf shrimp with chipotle blue corn mayonnaisse drizzle (or whatever it was) tasted great; it just wasn't Mama Lo's.

* * * * * *

About a month later I was working a trade show at the Javits Convention Center in Manhattan. For some reason we were staying at the Marriott Marquis Hotel in Times Square. I remember the Marquis Theater was on the ground floor; there was a huge poster advertising Bernadette Peters in "Annie Get Your Gun." Our hotel lobby was on the fifth floor up an elevator. (I guess this was to discourage homeless people from using the restrooms.) And in that lobby, in the gift shop, I found a little book called something like "101 Places to Eat Southern and Soul Food in Manhattan." Of course! (Slaps forehead.) What was I thinking, looking for soul food in the south? I should've been in New York City! I pulled out my pencil and notebook and noted a few possibilities. That night I took a cab to Greenwich Village and found a little restaurant called the Dew Drop Inn. The decor was amazingly retro. The owner was a fanatic for American regional cooking, and had traveled down Route 66 searching for recipes. I had the Dr. Pepper chicken, which was very good; the sugar in the Dr. Pepper was caramelized into a glaze.

Afterwards I went off in search of another southern food restaurant for dessert; I no longer remember the name. I think I was looking for an address on Greenwich street. The blocks seemed to be a lot longer than I expected. I remember passing a UPS warehouse where brown trucks were busily loading up for the next morning's deliveries. Soon I was out of the village, and somehow ended up on Broadway. Except for the fact that I was pretty sure I was still walking south, I was lost. Fog rolled in. On I trudged. Finally I saw the twin towers of the World Trade Center looming ahead, shrouded in grey, looking like a scene out of "Escape from New York" (1981). I figured I could catch a cab there back to Times Square. But first I ducked into the lobby of one of the towers to warm up.


marble tiles in a lobby of the World Trade Center

The lobby was "decorated" with marble tiles, one of the few nods to aesthetics permitted by the Modernist canon. I remembered reading in Wolfe's book how often the grain of the marble was ignored in placing tiles, so as to not seem too eager to create something visually pleasing. As I stood and looked at that marble, I thought to myself, "These really are hideous buildings; they should never have been built."

About a year later they were gone. I feel a little guilty about this. I know I'm not responsible for 9/11 attacks, and I never would have wanted them to happen, but I still feel like I should've been more careful what I wished for.


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