Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Big water

Life at sea has never been a breeze - and here's yet another reason why ... (Enjoy)


Rogue Giants at Sea

Published: July 11, 2006

The storm was nothing special. Its waves rocked the Norwegian Dawn just enough so that bartenders on the cruise ship turned to the usual palliative — free drinks.

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Karsten Petersen

STORM SURGE The chief engineer of the Stolt Surf took photographs as the tanker met a rogue wave in 1977. The deck, nearly 75 feet above sea level, was submerged.

Karsten Petersen

DLR

LASTING EFFECTS The Wilstar, a Norwegian tanker, suffered structural damage from a rogue wave in 1974. Scientists are focusing on how to make ships less vulnerable.

Then, off the coast of Georgia, early on Saturday, April 16, 2005, a giant, seven-story wave appeared out of nowhere. It crashed into the bow, sent deck chairs flying, smashed windows, raced as high as the 10th deck, flooded 62 cabins, injured 4 passengers and sowed widespread fear and panic.

“The ship was like a cork in a bathtub,” recalled Celestine Mcelhatton, a passenger who, along with 2,000 others, eventually made it back to Pier 88 on the Hudson River in Manhattan. Some vowed never to sail again.

Enormous waves that sweep the ocean are traditionally called rogue waves, implying that they have a kind of freakish rarity. Over the decades, skeptical oceanographers have doubted their existence and tended to lump them together with sightings of mermaids and sea monsters.

But scientists are now finding that these giants of the sea are far more common and destructive than once imagined, prompting a rush of new studies and research projects. The goals are to better tally them, understand why they form, explore the possibility of forecasts, and learn how to better protect ships, oil platforms and people.

The stakes are high. In the past two decades, freak waves are suspected of sinking dozens of big ships and taking hundreds of lives. The upshot is that the scientists feel a sense of urgency about the work and growing awe at their subjects.

“I never met, and hope I never will meet, such a monster,” said Wolfgang Rosenthal, a German scientist who helped the European Space Agency pioneer the study of rogue waves by radar satellite. “They are more frequent than we expected.”

Drawing on recent tallies and making tentative extrapolations, Dr. Rosenthal estimated that at any given moment 10 of the giants are churning through the world’s oceans.

In size and reach these waves are quite different from earthquake-induced tsunamis, which form low, almost invisible mounds at sea before gaining height while crashing ashore. Rogue waves seldom, if ever, prowl close to land.

“We know these big waves cannot get into shallow water,” said David W. Wang of the Naval Research Laboratory, the science arm of the Navy and Marine Corps. “That’s a physical limitation.”

By one definition, the titans of the sea rise to heights of at least 25 meters, or 82 feet, about the size of an eight-story building. Scientists have calculated their theoretical maximum at 198 feet — higher than the Statue of Liberty or the Capitol rotunda in Washington. So far, however, they have documented nothing that big. Large rogues seem to average around 100 feet.

Most waves, big and small alike, form when the wind blows across open water. The wind’s force, duration and sweep determine the size of the swells, with big storms building their height. Waves of about 6 feet are common, though ones up to 30 or even 50 feet are considered unexceptional (though terrifying to people in even fairly large boats). As waves gain energy from the wind, they become steeper and the crests can break into whitecaps.

The trough preceding a rogue wave can be quite deep, what nautical lore calls a “hole in the sea.” For anyone on a ship, it is a roller coaster plunge that can be disastrous.

Over the centuries, many accounts have told of monster waves that battered and sank ships. In 1933 in the North Pacific, the Navy oiler Ramapo encountered a huge wave. The crew, calm enough to triangulate from the ship’s superstructure, estimated its height at 112 feet.

In 1966, the Italian cruise ship Michelangelo was steaming toward New York when a giant wave tore a hole in its superstructure, smashed heavy glass 80 feet above the waterline, and killed a crewman and two passengers. In 1978, the München, a German barge carrier, sank in the Atlantic. Surviving bits of twisted wreckage suggested that it surrendered to a wave of great force.

Despite such accounts, many oceanographers were skeptical. The human imagination tended to embellish, they said.

Moreover, bobbing ships were terrible reference points for trying to determine the size of onrushing objects with any kind of accuracy. Their mathematical models predicted that giant waves were statistical improbabilities that should arise once every 10,000 years or so.

That began to change on New Year’s Day in 1995, when a rock-steady oil platform in the North Sea produced what was considered the first hard evidence of a rogue wave. The platform bore a laser designed to measure wave height.

During a furious storm, it registered an 84-foot giant.

Then, in February 2000, a British oceanographic research vessel fighting its way through a gale west of Scotland measured titans of up to 95 feet, “the largest waves ever recorded by scientific instruments,” seven researchers wrote in the journal Geophysical Research Letters.

Once-skeptical scientists were soon holding conferences to discuss the findings and to design research strategies. A large meeting in Brest, France, in November 2000 attracted researchers from around the world.

It quickly became apparent that the big waves formed with some regularity in regions swept by powerful currents: the Agulhas off South Africa, the Kuroshio off Japan, and the Gulf Stream off the eastern United States, where the Norwegian Dawn got into trouble off Georgia. The Gulf Stream also flows through the Bermuda Triangle, famous for allegedly devouring large numbers of ships.

Dr. Bengt Fornberg, a mathematician at the University of Colorado who studies the giants, said the strong ocean currents appeared to focus waves “like a magnifying glass concentrates sunlight.”

“It’s the same idea,” he said. “There are a few places in the world where there is a regular current, like a steady magnifying glass. In other places, the eddies come and go, and that makes the waves less predictable.”

One way that rogue waves apparently form is when the strong currents meet winds and waves moving in the opposite direction, he said. The currents focus and concentrate sets of waves, shortening the distance between them and sending individual peaks higher. “That,” Dr. Fornberg said in an interview, “makes for hot spots in a fairly predictable area.”

A particularly threatening spot, he said, turned out to be where big oil tankers coming from the Middle East ride the Agulhas current around South Africa. There, the westward-flowing current meets prevailing easterly winds, at times disastrously.

“Three or four tankers a year there get badly damaged,” Dr. Fornberg said. “That’s one of the few places in the world where the phenomena is regular.”

“With a big storm, you get lots of big waves,” he added. “You have regular waves and then one or two giants. Then it’s back to regular again.”

The scientists who met at Brest in 2000, eager to track the phenomenon globally, laid plans to use radar satellites to conduct a census, calling it MaxWave.

They worked with the European Space Agency, which had lofted radar satellites in 1991 and 1995, as well as the German Aerospace Center and several other European research bodies. The radar beams were seen as potentially ideal for measuring the height of individual waves, based on the time it took the beams to bounce from orbit to the sea and back to space.

The MaxWave team, led by Dr. Rosenthal, examined three weeks of radar data and to its amazement discovered 10 giants, each at least 82 feet high. “We were quite successful,” he said.

The team even tracked monster waves in a region of the South Atlantic where two cruise ships, the Bremen and the Caledonian Star, had come under assault.

Further confirmation with a different set of instruments came in September 2004 when Hurricane Ivan swept through the Gulf of Mexico.

It passed directly over six wave-tide gauges that the Naval Research Laboratory had deployed about 50 miles east of the Mississippi Delta. Dr. Wang and his colleagues analyzed the data and found to their surprise waves measuring more than 90 feet from trough to crest.

“We had no idea,” Dr. Wang recalled. “It was the right time and the right place.”

Already, the scientists said, naval architects and shipbuilders are discussing precautions. Some of the easiest are seen as increasing the strength of windows and hatch covers. But even the best physical protections may fail under assault by tons of roiling water, so the best precaution of all will be learning how to avoid the monsters in the first place.

Increasingly, scientists are focusing on better understanding how the big waves form and whether that knowledge can lead to accurate forecasts — a feat that, if achieved, may save hundreds of lives and many billions of dollars in lost commerce.

A suspected culprit, in addition to wind-current interactions, is the amplification that occurs when disparate trains of waves (perhaps emanating from different storms) come together. Such intersections are seen as sometimes canceling out waves, and other times making them higher and steeper.

Another birth ground is seen as choppy seas where several waves moving independently merge by chance. But scientists say a giant of that sort would live for no more than a few seconds or minutes, whereas some are suspected of lasting for hours and traveling long distances.

As for forecasts, oceanographers are focusing on the interplay of exceptionally strong winds and currents, especially in the Agulhas off South Africa.

Dr. Fornberg said that several years ago South African authorities began issuing predictions. “That’s the only place the theory has succeeded,” he said.

Dr. Rosenthal said that in the future the continued proliferation of radar satellites should create an opportunity to better understand not only the habitats of the giants but in theory also individual threats, bringing about a safer relationship between people and the sea.

“There will be warnings, maybe in 10 years,” he said. “It should be possible.”

Monday, July 10, 2006

Viva Las Beatles

Anyone who knows me - knows I love the Beatles. Here is a truly remarkable show now playing in Las Vegas.

Critic's Notebook

Cirque du Soleil: A Beatles Love-In From Las Vegas to Eternity

Cirque du Soleil

Aerialists perform during "Love," Cirque du Soleil's new Beatles show at the Mirage Hotel in Las Vegas. George Martin, the Beatles record producer, and his son Giles remixed their songs for the show.

Published: July 10, 2006

LAS VEGAS, July 8 — The gala premiere of "Love," Cirque du Soleil's new Beatles show at the Mirage Hotel, has come and gone, and the extravaganza has now settled into the glitzily refurbished theater in which Siegfried and Roy and their pets disported themselves for 13 years. The Beatles have now joined Celine Dion, the ghost of Frank Sinatra, Rubens from the Hermitage and four other Cirque shows playing along the Strip as yet another competing attraction in the land of slot machines and neon flash.

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Tomasz Rossa/Cirque du Soleil

Cirque du Soleil's Las Vegas show "O," directed by Robert Lepage.

Ethan Miller/Las Vegas Sun, via Reuters

The performer Jennifer Kimberly Haight, suspended from a flying machine in a scene from the Cirque du Soleil production "KÀ" at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas.

"Love" tells us many things — about the evolution of the Beatles in the pantheon of cultural icons, about the clashing contentions of the preservationists and the evolutionists among Beatles fans, and perhaps above all, about the continuing transformation of the Cirque du Soleil format.

That format has been successful beyond what must have been the dizziest dreams of the Québécois street performers who founded this once-humble organization in 1984. Right now there are seven touring shows perambulating around the world, including "Corteo," which closed recently on Randalls Island in New York, plus one in Orlando, Fla., and the five here.

The first Las Vegas Cirque show, "Mystère," opened in 1993, to be followed by "O," KÀ "Zumanity," "KÀ" and now "Love." None have ever closed; they come as close to eternality as live show business has yet achieved. Even during the sweltering summer, when the average daytime temperature is well above 100 and overall attendance in Las Vegas drops sharply, the 2,000-seat "Love" theater looked full at the early show on Thursday, and on Friday the similarly scaled "KÀ" theater and the relatively modest 1,260-seat "cabaret" for "Zumanity" seemed nearly full.

"Love" has already been blessed in every conceivable way by the surviving Beatles. Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr and nearly every extant widow and ex-wife and child and close collaborator (Ravi Shankar!) were on hand for the gala opening on June 30. Apple, the Beatles organization, licensed the songs to the Cirque, and George Martin, the Beatles producer, and his son Giles reknitted and remixed those songs into the aural tapestry on display at the Mirage.

Unsurprisingly, the message of "Love" is that it's all you need. The music pouring forth from the 4,000 speakers — or is it 6,000? or 12,000? Statistics fall from Cirque-land like the confetti of little white apples and red-purple petals that flutter down from the ceiling — sounds great, if crystalline grandiosity counts as great.

I missed the effect of individual words emitted from speakers in my own individual, painfully narrow seat, but I'm sure they were there.

The show has been conceived by the core Cirque creative team. The wonderfully named Guy Laliberté, who founded the troupe and still runs the Cirque operation, is listed as "show concept creator" along with the wonderfully named Dominic Champagne, the director and writer. Mr. Champagne is also responsible for the egregious erotic parody, "Zumanity."

What they have created with "Love" is less a musical or a concert than a 90-minute visually live rock-video fantasy. (All Cirque shows here last 90 minutes on the nose, to fit in two performances a night.) It's visually live because the music is, of course, recorded.

Circus flash is minimized in favor of mimes and dancers and actors and ornate costumes and a dizzying onslaught of props — including, too predictably, two Volkswagen Beetles. Perhaps the paucity of circus excitement accounted for what seemed like a slightly muted response on Thursday. Or perhaps the audience was just blitzed with the scenic barrage.

The circus bits include daredevil in-line skaters zipping up, down and over half-pipelike structures; some trampolinists; and innumerable rope climbers, bungee jumpers and aerialists. They serve mostly to fill the huge vertical space and compete with the giant projections. There is a lot of dancing, or mass posing, since no one dancer has interesting moves or could stand out in the welter of activity. Two choreographers are credited, but three more apparently had a hand in the proceedings. The stage images are always ingenious and sometimes beautiful. But like a rock video, they constrain a listener's own imagination, too often in the service of Cirque clichés.

In the projections, there are Beatles silhouettes and documentary film and, at the end, big portraits of the lads. But this is ultimately a Cirque show more than a Beatles show. Nothing against mimes; I'm sure that in their private lives they love their pets and are perfectly nice, even talkative, people. But their presence in Francophone circuses has become an intrusive mannerism, down to the central mime figure in "Love," who clutches flowers to his various multihued jackets and serves as a, or the, representative of the flower-child, all-you-need-is-love moral that is meant to overcome protest and war and injustice. It's too painfully easy.

For the Beatles and their most obsessive fans, "Love" poses a dilemma. It will undoubtedly be a lucrative source of income for Apple and its owners for years to come, if not for all eternity. The music sounds terrific and will no doubt sound more human on home speakers on the soundtrack due in the fall.

There are those who will always resent any tinkering with the originals, although what is original varies from person to person. When I saw the Beatles live, the girlish squeals drowned out the music. For some, nostalgic pops and clicks on their well-worn LP's are now part of the authenticity. Those who believe that the senior Mr. Martin, with his orchestrations and sonic collages, lent a classical cachet to the primitive musical gropings of the foursome will welcome his chance to reshape this material even more elaborately.

Yet in the world of recordings, what's wrong with a little tinkering, as long as a listener knows what's going on? A Mozart score is open to endless interpretation, and Da Ponte's operatic stage directions are routinely ignored. Yet Mozart survives. The Beatles' original intentions will always be right there in their recordings, and anyone who wishes to stick solely with those is free to do so. Opening up this music to interpretation is just part of the process of their ascending into the cultural pantheon.

But what does "Love" tell us about Cirque du Soleil, which by now is a cultural phenomenon as symptomatic of our time as the Beatles were in theirs? "Mystère" is the only Las Vegas Cirque show I have not seen, but it was the first and, by all reports, the closest to Cirque roots: breathtaking circus acts, dazzling visuals, dorky New Age soundtracks with world-music flavorings.

Since then, concepts have infused the Cirque du Soleil mix as the team quite rightly strives for novelty. "O," the water show, was still a series of spectacular acts, but the set was so amazing that sheer bedazzlement overrode any lingering regrets about absent artistic profundity. By now, Cirque sets for the permanently installed show are built on an order of magnitude and technical sophistication that easily transcends the flashiest Broadway musicals, even "The Phantom of the Opera," now playing here, too, or opera, which for 400 years offered more awesome spectacle to audiences than anything else.

To sustain interest from show to show, however, you need more than just spectacle. "O" had water; "Zumanity" has sex, however silly; "KÀ" has an elaborate fairy tale of lost imperial twins in search of each other and enlightenment; and "Love" has the Beatles.

In the end, though, spectacle trumps concept; this is the era of the arena rock show and mass displays like those of the Olympic opening and closing ceremonies. By now, stage directors who work in theater and opera have been lured to direct such events: Robert Lepage did a Peter Gabriel tour and La Fura dels Baus, the Barcelona rock-theatrical Surrealists, staged an Olympics opening spectacle in their home city.

"KÀ" is the best Cirque show because it was conceived and directed by Mr. Lepage. He is French Canadian, too, which must have made things easier with the Cirque team. "KÀ" has the same overblown musical formulas as most other Cirque shows. The story is pretty much an excuse for the visuals.

But the visuals are truly amazing, and like the best of the "cirque moderne" directors, Mr. Lepage uses traditional circus acts to dramatize his story: acrobatics as combat, aerialism as flight and escape. And his vision for spectacle is different enough from that of the Cirque team to enliven a format that threatened to go stale.

For an opera lover, "KÀ" hints at what Mr. Lepage may accomplish with the Metropolitan Opera's new "Ring" starting in 2010. When the Metropolitan Opera House was built 40 years go, it boasted about its stage machinery, though it must look pretty primitive next to a specially constructed Cirque theater, especially the huge rotating, floating platforms of "KÀ." At least at the Met, Mr. Lepage will have a real story and real music. One wonders what he'll do with Wagner, or what he might have done with the Beatles.

Friday, July 07, 2006

Heart Attack Guide


July 4, 2006
Personal Health

Jump-Start a Heart: The Simplified Approach

When my father suffered a heart attack and collapsed in a Brooklyn supermarket, he was surrounded by people.

Someone called 911, but although he was unresponsive and not breathing, no one tried to keep his body and brain alive by performing cardiopulmonary resuscitation while waiting for professional help.

He died at the scene.

The failure of anyone to try a lay rescue was not too surprising, given that it was 1982 and relatively few people had been trained in CPR. I had, thanks to a course offered at my office, but I was miles away at the time.

What is surprising is that had my father's sudden cardiac arrest happened under similar circumstances last year, the chances that anyone on the scene would have tried to save him remained remote.

Widespread Efforts

Despite decades of education and widespread course offerings, the survival rate for out-of-hospital cardiac arrest remains a dismal 6 percent or less worldwide.

This fact prompted the American Heart Association last November to simplify the steps of CPR to make it easier for lay people to remember and to encourage even those who have not been formally trained to try it when needed.

"Sadly," the association wrote when it issued the new guidelines, "we have learned that bystander CPR is performed in about only a third of witnessed arrests or fewer, and that when CPR is performed, even by professionals, it is often not done well."

There are many reasons for bystanders' reluctance to try CPR. Some claim the steps have been too complicated and hard to remember. After formal training, the skills decline rapidly. Others fear catching a disease or virus like H.I.V. from the victim through mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, although the risk of transmitting any infection is very low.

Yet the need for bystander CPR is great. Each year, about 250,000 people die outside of hospitals from coronary heart disease, and thousands of others drown or are asphyxiated.

Many of them can be saved if someone nearby is willing and able to immediately perform CPR until professional help arrives.

Furthermore, the life that CPR could help save is most likely that of a family member, friend or neighbor.

Done effectively with minimal delay, CPR can double or triple the survival rate in people who suffer sudden cardiac arrest. But "to be successful, CPR must be started as soon as a victim collapses," the association noted. For every minute without CPR, survival chances fall 7 to 10 percent.

Effective rescues are greatly enhanced if an automated external defibrillator is available to shock the heart back into a normal rhythm. Delivered within three to five minutes of a person's collapse, a shock by a defibrillator can result in survival rates of 49 to 75 percent. This has been proved in settings like airplanes, casinos, stadiums and other locations that keep defibrillators on hand for such emergencies.

Although a brief training session is helpful, the device is self-explanatory and can be used effectively by nearly anyone old enough to handle it. There is nothing to read: the device assesses the victim's heart rhythm and tells you what to do.

The goal of CPR is to push oxygen-containing blood to the brain and body when the heart fails to do this vital job. The new guidelines emphasize the importance of rapid, effective cardiac compressions — pushing hard and fast on a person's chest to squeeze the heart and allow it to refill between pushes.

In the first minute or two after a heart attack that results in cardiac arrest, there is still oxygen in the person's blood, which makes cardiac compressions more important than rescue breathing.

Changes in CPR

Although the new guidelines call for two rescue breaths before starting chest compressions, they "encourage those who would rather not give mouth-to-mouth ventilations to call for help and start chest compressions only."

However, for a drowning victim or child under 8, asphyxia is the more likely cause of cardiac arrest, and getting oxygen into the lungs through rescue breathing, along with aiding circulation, is critical to survival.

Do not, however, do a Heimlich maneuver on a drowning victim before starting CPR since there is not enough water in the lungs to interfere with ventilation. If the victim vomits, turn the head to one side and clear the mouth with your fingers before trying the rescue breathing.

For purposes of CPR, the heart association considers everyone 8 and older to be an adult. Upon witnessing a person's collapse, the lay rescuer who is alone should first call 911 and retrieve an automated external defibrillator if one is readily available. If there is anyone else present, that person should do these first steps, freeing the lay rescuer to assess the situation and start CPR.

Help on the Line

Even if you know nothing about CPR, the 911 operator may be able to talk you through it. With minimal instructions, the mnemonic A-B-C can help you remember the steps.

A: ASSESS First make sure you are in a safe place. Trying CPR on a road risks two lives. To determine responsiveness, tap the victim on the shoulder and ask, "Are you O.K.?" If the victim is unresponsive, tilt his head back and chin up to open the airway and place your cheek next to his mouth to determine if there is effective rhythmic breathing.

Note: Occasional gasps are not normal breathing, and CPR should be started immediately. You no longer have to check for a pulse, which is often hard to find and can waste precious minutes.

B: BREATHE Kneeling perpendicular to the victim, administer two rescue breaths.

With the head tilted and chin up, pinch the victim's nose, place your mouth completely over the victim's and give two breaths, each lasting one second and just forceful enough to see the chest rise and then fall between breaths.

Avoid breaths that are too large or forceful. (If the victim is an infant under a year old, do not pinch the nose; rather, place your mouth fully over the baby's nose and mouth and give two puffs of air.)

C: COMPRESS Then place the heel of one hand on the victim's chest between the nipples (at the base of the sternum).

Place your other hand over the first and press down hard and fast — 100 compressions a minute — so that the chest is depressed by one and a half to two inches in an adult or one-third to one-half of the chest depth in a child under 8.

Only one hand on the chest may be needed for a child; use only two or three fingers for an infant. Be sure to allow the chest to rise between compressions.

Do 30 chest compressions for every two rescue breaths for all victims, stopping compressions for just a few seconds to do the breaths.

Minimize interruptions of chest compressions. To be effective, CPR must restore and maintain adequate blood flow through the heart and to the brain.

With every interruption of chest compressions, the pressure of blood flow through the heart drops and the chances of survival fall.

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Freedom & Independence Day


The American dream

The real story of America is not about power, money or the march of armies. It is about a dream of liberty and justice and independence -- a dream that still comes true every day.

By Greil Marcus

Jul. 04, 2006 | (Delivered as a commencement address at the University of California at Berkeley, May 19, 2006.)

I'm going to start out today by going back just over a month ago. It's Sunday night, April 16 -- the sixth episode of the sixth season of "The Sopranos" is on. Vito Spatafore -- the most reliable and loyal captain in the New Jersey crime family run by Tony Soprano -- is on the run. The story is out -- Vito has a wife, two kids, the requisite mistress, but he's been seen in a gay bar, dressed like the biker in the Village People. The other mobsters want him dead; he's dishonored them all.

Heading north, Vito's been on the road for hours. His cellphone rings; he throws it out the window. He has no idea where he is. His car breaks down. He makes it into the next town, finds an inn, puts his gun under his pillow.

The next day he wakes up in a little New Hampshire village, where gay people walk the streets without fear. In a diner, looks pass between Vito and the counterman. A male couple comes in, sits down, and begins speaking a language Vito has never before heard in the light of day, only in the dark. He's confused: What does it mean to be in a place where, for the first time in your life, you might feel at home in your own skin? Could that even be right?

He goes into an antique shop. He picks up a vase, and the gay owner compliments him on his taste: "That's the most expensive item in the store." But then Vito sees something else, probably the cheapest thing in the store: an old New Hampshire license plate. "Live Free or Die," reads the slogan across the top.

The phrase burns into Vito's mind. You can see his face change. The words were written in 1809 by Gen. John Stark, a New Hampshire hero of the Revolutionary War, on the occasion of the 32nd reunion of veterans of the 1777 Battle of Bennington, Vt.; too ill to attend, Gen. Stark sent a toast. "Live free or die," another man read for him: "Death is not the worst of evils." The words echoed across the nation, down through the decades; in 1945, with the end of the Second World War, New Hampshire took the first four words and put them all over the state.

Vito stares. "Live Free or Die" -- it's as if the metal can talk. It's just a license plate; for him it might as well be the Declaration of Independence, ringing its bell. "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness," Jefferson wrote -- and suddenly, as it has for so many for so long, through that license plate the Declaration is speaking to Vito as if it were addressed to him. "Live free or die" -- what if all this, the shock in his face says, was meant for him as much as anyone?

It's one of those signal moments when the whole weight of the national story, its promises and its betrayals, hits home -- leaving the citizen at once part of a community and completely alone. It doesn't matter that, well, yes, of course, on the fourth of July, 1776, when the Declaration of Independence was presented, everyone understood that all men meant men, not women; whites, not blacks; Christians, not Jews or Hindi or heathen; decent people, not Sodomites. The idea that "all men are created equal" was not a "self-evident truth," Sen. John Pettit said on the floor of the Senate in 1853: it was "a self-evident lie." It was in the midst of the debates over the Kansas-Nebraska Act; Pettit was arguing for voiding the Missouri Compromise of 1820 and opening the territories to slavery. It was a debate: "The great declaration cost our forefathers too dear," Sen. Benjamin Franklin Wade of Ohio replied to Pettit, "to be so lightly thrown away by their children."

Abraham Lincoln read these debates from his oblivion in Springfield, Ill.; he was a 44-year-old lawyer who had served one term in Congress before being turned out of office. Pettit's words and the words against him brought Lincoln back to the world. Soon he was speaking as if the Declaration of Independence contained all the words the nation ever needed to hear -- and in a certain sense, it didn't matter that Lincoln did not believe that, once men and women left the hand of their creator, they were equal on earth. "Pettit called the Declaration of Independence a lie," Lincoln said in Peoria in 1854, answering a speech by Stephen Douglas. "If it had been said in old Independence Hall 78 years ago, the doorkeeper would have thrown him into the street." That might have been a fairy tale; the Declaration of Independence itself might be a fairy tale, but not one that can be given an ending, happy or not. The charge in the Declaration was boundless; no limits placed upon it hold.

"Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" -- it's what the rest of the world understands by America when America isn't forcing the rest of the world to understand America as something else. "We are caught in a world of limits where there's no such thing as the self-made man," said a graduate student in France last week; Claire de la Vigne was speaking to a New York Times reporter about the French university system, where doors are made to be closed, not opened. "We are never taught the idea of the American dream, where everything is possible," she said. It's what Americans understand by America, when the facts of everyday American life somehow recede, and an idea of America takes their place.

Here's a passage from "Enthusiasm," a yet-to-be-published novel written by a friend of mine, Charlie Haas. A man -- a scientist, a businessman -- is trying to recover from brain damage. His father is trying to reintroduce him to time, place, names, faces.

Dad and Barney sat at the desk with the datebook open in front of them. "Okay," Dad said, "what's something you might have to do this afternoon?"

"Go to a meeting," Barney said.

"Okay. So you write that in there."

Barney scrawled MEETING over half the afternoon grid. "We're going to have a country," he said. "We have some farmers coming, and some horseshoe guys."

"Like blacksmiths?" Dad said.

"Yes," Barney said. "So we get liberty. And we wear wigs in the room."

This doesn't even have the weight of a fairy tale, or of a dream you can just barely remember -- and yet it's inescapable, and unbreakable.

There's a way in which you can see every American story as a version of the Declaration of Independence: every story an attempt to make it true, or prove it a lie. In 1941, Henry Luce called the 20th century "the American century"; he meant this was the century when America became a colossus from which the rest of the world would have to step back, trembling with awe. But if that American century was truly American, you can almost see Lincoln reminding us -- or, if not Lincoln, the doorkeeper at Independence Hall -- then the story of the American century is the story of all sorts of previously excluded, marginalized, scorned, despised, ignored or enslaved people -- laborers, women, African-Americans, Asian Americans, Jews, Latinos, gay men and women -- entering into full citizenship and full participation in national life. If not full citizenship, a more complete citizenship than even Lincoln or the doorkeeper could in fact have imagined -- as, again and again, decade after decade, those echoing words of the Declaration of Independence sounded as if for the first time.

It can be easy to forget this, when people on both the left and the right tell the story of the country as if it were a story of power, not speech -- a story of the movements of money and armies, not the acts of men and women, acting alone or together.

This came home to me last week, at a meeting in Cambridge, Mass. A group of 16 people -- distinguished historians, critics, poets, novelists, professors -- sat around a table determining what would and what would not be included in an ambitious new book: a 1,000-page, 200 chapter "New Literary History of America." "'All God's Dangers -- The Life of Nate Shaw,'" one person said -- and there was silence. Few people there had heard of the book; only three had read it.

The book appeared in 1975, and then it disappeared. Why? It won a National Book Award; it received reviews that were like trumpets. But somehow the tale told by Nate Shaw -- the name the historian Theodore Rosengarten gave to one Ned Cobb, born in Alabama in 1885, dead there in 1973, who, over hundreds of hours, spun Rosengarten the story of his life -- did not fit the American story as it was being reconstructed once again. This was a man whose parents were slaves, and who reveled in his superiority -- in mind, body, will, desire, courage, and wit -- over other men, be they black or white. "All men are created equal" -- but what men and women become is not equal, and proving himself in that arena was America to Nate Shaw.

"I was climbin up in the world just like a boy climbin a tree. And I fell just as easy, too." It's 1931, in the heart of the Depression, and a banker is squeezing him:

"Bring me the cotton this fall, bring me the cotton." When he told me that I got disheartened. I didn't want him messin with me -- still, I didn't let him take a mortgage on anything I owned. I was my own man, had been for many years, and God knows I weren't goin to turn the calendar back on myself.

You can hear it in the cadence, in the uniqueness of the speech: "I weren't goin to turn the calendar back on myself." This is someone for whom liberty is real -- as real in its absence as when he can all but hold it in his hands. At 21, in 1906, Nate Shaw set out to raise his first cotton crop; in 1932 he stood for the Alabama Sharecroppers Union against a gang of sheriffs sent to take over a friend's property, and paid for his stand with 12 years in prison; he found God. He walked out of prison. He lived a new life.

From his first day on his own, he was not someone who could be reduced to a type, a symbol, or made to stand for a cause. Against all odds he had in fact achieved what the country promised him: "life," on his own terms; "liberty," seized, acted out, taken from him; "the pursuit of happiness" -- which, at the end of his life, meant firing a revolver in the air. "I shoots it some times just to see if it will yet answer me," he said. "I throw it to the air and ask for all six shots: YAW YAW YAW YAW YAW YAW." The story came off the pages with suspense, order, clarity, and drama, as if Shaw had long before determined not to quit this life without leaving a piece of his own behind.

His own -- all he had, to pass on to whoever might stumble upon the now-forgotten book made of his particular pursuit of happiness. But if the historians gathered to choose the books of our history had not heard of Nate Shaw -- and, hearing his story, they finally chose to fold it into the story they themselves were trying to tell -- if they hadn't heard of Nate Shaw, in a certain way, Vito, standing in that New Hampshire antique store, was hearing Nate Shaw speak as he read the words on the license plate.

As Vito read "Live Free or Die," a song began to come up on the soundtrack: a song called "4th of July," recorded in 1987 by the Los Angeles punk band X. It's thrilling, and it's heartbreaking; a couple's marriage is falling apart, but it's the Fourth of July. The feeling is that by failing their marriage they are betraying the country: "We gave up trying so long ago."

Can Jefferson save their marriage? Can they save the country? Like "The Sopranos," the song doesn't say yes or no -- it makes the question real, makes it yours.

-- By Greil Marcus

Google - oooooooooo


It's difficult for me to imagine another company that's affected my everyday life more than Google has. Here's part of the reason why. Enjoy les bon mots.

July 3, 2006

A Search Engine That's Becoming an Inventor

Correction Appended

When Google was a graduate-school project being run from a Silicon Valley garage, its founders, Larry Page and Sergey Brin, built their own computers out of cheap parts meant for personal computers. They wanted to save money, and they felt that they could design a network of computers that would search the Web more efficiently than those available from traditional manufacturers.

Google no longer needs to pinch pennies. It is a solid member of the Fortune 500 with $9 billion in cash. Still, it is stubbornly sticking to its do-it-yourself approach to technology. Even as it spends more than $1.5 billion this year on operations centers and technology, most of the hundreds of thousands of servers it will deploy are being custom-made based on Google's own eccentric designs.

To be closer to its users and speed response time, it is building a worldwide string of data centers, including a huge site in The Dalles, Ore., with technologies it designed to reduce its ravenous need for electricity. These computers in turn use software developed with advanced tools that Google also designed itself. There are signs that Google is even preparing to create its own custom microchips.

"Google is as much about infrastructure as it is about the search engine," said Martin Reynolds, an analyst with the Gartner Group. "They are building an enormous computing resource on a scale that is almost unimaginable." He said he believed that Google was the world's fourth-largest maker of computer servers, after Dell, Hewlett-Packard and I.B.M.

Google's biggest rivals, Microsoft and Yahoo, certainly write much of their own software, and they work to configure their computers and data centers to their own needs. But they largely buy machines from existing manufactures like Dell, Sun Microsystems and Rackable Systems.

"At some point you have to ask yourself what is your core business," said Kevin Timmons, Yahoo's vice president for operations. "Are you going to design your own router, or are you going to build the world's most popular Web site? It is very difficult to do both."

Google, in fact, has decided it will do both. In many ways, it still has the head of a graduate-school project grafted onto the body of a multinational corporation. The central tenet of its strategy is that its growing cadre of world-class computer scientists can design a network of machines that can store and process more information more efficiently than anyone else.

Mr. Reynolds estimated that Google's computing costs are half those of other large Internet companies and a tenth those of traditional corporate technology users.

Google will not comment on its costs, but it does claim an advantage. "We don't think our competitors can deploy systems cheaper, faster or at scale," Alan Eustace, Google's vice president for research and systems engineering, told analysts in March. "That will give us a two-, three-, five-year lead."

Despite those boasts, some argue that Google's home-brew approach is unnecessary and inefficient, a headstrong indulgence masked for now by the growth and profitability of its advertising business. And Google's rivals say their networks are plenty efficient and powerful.

"Google doesn't have anything magic here," Bill Gates, the Microsoft chairman, said in an interview. "We spend a little bit more per machine. But to do the same tasks, we have less machines."

Google is notoriously secretive about its technology. Yet it also has published papers on some of its developments and been granted patents on others. These, along with the public statements of Google executives and interviews with current and former employees, vendors and other technology executives, paint a picture of a company devoted to pushing the boundaries of modern computer science, and applying those concepts on a vast scale.

"Google took the best ideas from the supercomputer research community and wove them into a working system," said Stephen E. Arnold, a technology consultant to investors and the author of "The Google Legacy" (Infonortics, 2005), a book on Google's technology.

Some of its innovations are designed to wring pennies from its growing spending on technology. Last year, it was granted a patent (06906920) on a "drive-cooling baffle," meant to funnel air into a rack of computers held together with Velcro, a Google design signature.

But some innovations are bolder, like a series of software tools that simplify the way it can divide a problem to be handled by thousands of processors simultaneously, an approach called parallel processing.

One such program, called MapReduce, is based on ideas discussed in computer science literature for decades, according to Urs Hölzle, Google's senior vice president for operations. "What surprised us was how useful it turned out to be in our environment," he said.

MapReduce, he said, "allows Joe Schmo software engineer to process large amounts of data and take advantage of our infrastructure."

Mr. Arnold, the consultant, said these tools created a significant cost advantage. "If you talk to guys who work in massively parallel computing operations, as much as 30 percent of their coding time is spent trying to figure out how to get the thing to run," he said. Google "has figured out how they can reduce a lot of the hassle and work of creating parallel applications."

Mr. Gates acknowledged that MapReduce was a significant technology, but he asserted that Microsoft was building its own parallel processing software, opening another front in the technological war between the two companies.

"They did MapReduce; we have this thing called Dryad that's better," Mr. Gates said. "But they'll do one that's better."

Moreover, Google's focus on building general purpose tools and systems is different from that of most companies, which develop systems tailored to specific applications. And it is building these systems rapidly, with the billions of dollars in cash it generates and the thousands of engineers it hires each year. It hopes that it can build a lead that will allow it to create products that do more, for less money, than its rivals.

"If they can get a 30 percent cost advantage, in operating a service on the Internet that is a huge difference," said John M. Lervik, the chief executive of Fast Search & Transfer, a Norwegian search company.

Google's academic approach can be traced not only to its founders' graduate work in computer science, but even to their early home life, Mr. Arnold said, noting that Mr. Page and Mr. Brin had come from families with expertise in computer science and mathematics.

"The stuff they did in 1996 to 1998 was not as immature as it should have been," he said of the Google founders. He said that told him the two men learned a lot "when their parents were talking at the kitchen table."

By the time Mr. Page and Mr. Brin were designing Google, parallel processing was more than an academic dream; it was enabled on a large scale by the low prices of processors, memory and disk drives used to make personal computers. These components were hardly of the highest quality and could be counted on to fail often.

Mr. Page designed the initial Google servers, with the assumption that parts would fail on a regular basis. At first he tried to simplify assembly — and reduce the presumed repair time — by not fastening components to the servers at all but simply laying them on a bed of cork. This proved to be unstable, and so parts were connected with Velcro.

"Nobody builds servers as unreliably as we do," Mr. Hölzle said in a speech last year at CERN, the Swiss particle physics institute. Google is reducing cost while maintaining performance by shifting the burden of reliability from hardware to software — individual hardware components can fail, but software automatically shifts the local task and the data to other machines.

For example, Google designed a software system it calls the Google File System that keeps copies of data in several places so Google does not have to worry when one of its cheap servers fails. This approach also means that it does not have to make regular backup copies of its data as other companies do.

Another system, called the Google Work Queue, allows a big pool of servers to be assigned to various tasks as needed and reassigned to other projects later. This concept, called "virtualization," has become a trend among large data center operators, which also want to reduce the expense of having separate servers dedicated to each system. But most companies buy commercial software to track which computers are doing what, a complex process.

While Google's servers are built on inexpensive parts, the designs it uses have been modified every year or so, to improve their efficiency and increasingly to customize them to Google's applications. The current generation uses the powerful Opteron chip from Advanced Micro Devices, which uses less power than the Intel chips Google had used.

Google is among Advanced Micro's five largest clients, and the largest that does not make computers to resell, according to a semiconductor industry executive with knowledge of Advanced Micro's business.

Google is increasingly doing business with Sun Microsystems as well. Sun, known for systems that are both reliable and expensive, would not seem a natural match for a company that emphasizes economy and self-sufficiency. But Eric E. Schmidt, Google's chief executive, is a former Sun executive, and Sun has developed a new microchip that is especially efficient in electricity use.

Moreover, Google increasingly needs systems that are less likely to fail than those it uses for its search engine in order to handle important information, like e-mail and payments in its new Google Checkout service.

Beyond servers, there are signs that Google is now designing its own microchips. The company has hired many of the engineers responsible for the Digital Equipment Corporation's well-regarded Alpha chip.

"Google's next step is to build high-performance silicon," said Mark Stahlman, an independent technology analyst.

Mr. Hölzle said Google had considered custom semiconductor design, but he declined to say if the company had built any. He said that, in general, Google did not want to build anything from scratch if it could buy something that was just as good.

But he added that Google continued to believe that its approach to designing its own cheap and fast computer networks gave it an edge.

"Having lots of relatively unreliable machines and turning them into a reliable service is a hard problem," Mr. Hölzle said. "That is what we have been doing for a while."

Correction: July 4, 2006 An article in Business Day yesterday about Google's self-sufficiency in servers, software and other technology misspelled the name of a program developed by Microsoft for its own use in parallel processing. It is Dryad, not Driad.

Sunday, July 02, 2006

All the lonely people

The Beatles said it all in Eleanor Rigby : "...All the lonely people, where do they all come from? All the lonely people, where do they all belong?..." Enjoy these bon et tres triste, mots.

July 2, 2006
Ideas & Trends

The Lonely American Just Got a Bit Lonelier

FOR as long as humans have gathered in groups, it seems, some people have been left on the outside looking in. In postwar America in particular, the idea that loneliness pervades a portion of society has been a near-constant. Only the descriptions have changed: the "lonely crowd" alienation of the 1950's; the grim career-driven angst of the 70's and 80's; the "Bowling Alone" collapse of social connections of the 90's.

There is a new installment in the annals of loneliness. Americans are not only lacking in bowling partners, now they're lacking in people to tell their deepest, darkest secrets. They've hunkered down even more, their inner circle often contracting until it includes only family, only a spouse or, at worst, no one.

And that is something the Internet may help ease, but is unlikely to cure.

A recent study by sociologists at Duke and the University of Arizona found that, on average, most adults only have two people they can talk to about the most important subjects in their lives — serious health problems, for example, or issues like who will care for their children should they die. And about one-quarter have no close confidants at all.

"The kinds of connections we studied are the kinds of people you call on for social support, for real concrete help when you need it," said Lynn Smith-Lovin, a sociologist at Duke and an author of the study, which analyzed responses in interviews that mirrored a survey from 1985. "These are the tightest inner circle."

The study "should provide a wake-up call to our society," said Bill Maier, a vice president and psychologist in residence with Focus on the Family, the evangelical Christian group. "We're missing out on deep, meaningful interpersonal relationships."

Yet within the analysis there was at least a suggestion of hope.

"The one type of relationship that actually went up was talking over personally important things with your spouse," Dr. Smith-Lovin said.

Like "Bowling Alone," the essay and, later, book by Robert D. Putnam, a public policy professor a Harvard, the Duke study suggested that a weakening of community connections is in part responsible for increasing social isolation. More people are working and commuting longer hours and have little time for the kinds of external social activities that could lead to deeper relationships.

So the closest ties increasingly are limited to family members, in particular to spouses.

"That's probably a result of the fact that men's and women's lives are more structurally similar now than in 1985," Dr. Smith-Lovin said. It's more likely that both spouses are working at jobs that are important to them, and men are more involved around the house. "Spouses literally have more to talk about," she said.

Dr. Maier, for one, sees that as cause for at least some optimism in a society whose fast pace generally bodes badly for family life. "To hear that people are investing more in their nuclear family is a positive thing," he said.

The Internet is also cause for some optimism, because it has made it easier to maintain ties among family members who have become scattered. Those ties inevitably developed over long-term, face-to-face contact, but e-mail can help keep them strong.

"E-mail really does help maintain your social networks," said John Horrigan, associate director of the Pew Internet and American Life Project. Recent Pew surveys, he said, found that "when you contact family by e-mail, you share important and serious things."

Still, Dr. Smith-Lovin said, any optimism must be tempered. For one thing, having only one confidant, even if that confidant is a spouse, leaves a person extremely vulnerable if the spouse dies or the marriage disintegrates.

And in the end, she and others pointed out, e-mail or instant messaging is no substitute for face-to-face contact. "E-mailing somebody far way is not the same as them going to pick up your child at daycare or bringing you chicken soup," she said.

Dr. Putnam said the new study reinforced much of what he had reported in "Bowling Alone," which had been criticized by some academics as a faulty analysis that ignored other social and economic trends. And even if the new study points to a rise in spouses as confidants, that is not especially cause to rejoice, he said. "It's like with global warming, if we learn that temperatures are going to rise slightly less than we thought," he said. "It's still a problem."

"Sure, you might say, we've still got our wives or husbands or mothers," he said. "That's true. But gosh, the number of friends you have is a strong predictor of how long you live."

The impact goes beyond the individual, as well. "There are effects on my neighbors of my not knowing them," he said. For one thing, "If I don't know them well and they don't know me, that has a demonstrable effect on the crime rate."

Dr. Horrigan said there was anecdotal evidence that some members of a community use e-mail and the Internet "to keep up with people very close by." The Internet can help expand social networks, although the ties it creates are not as strong as those the Duke researchers are concerned with. Yet they can be useful.

His group's research has shown that the Internet is increasingly being used during life's "major moments" — to gather information or advice when making a big financial investment, deciding where to live, or choosing a college for a child. The research has shown that "people were more likely to get help through their social network" for those kinds of decisions.

Still, Dr. Putnam said, "The real interesting future is how can we use the Net to strengthen and deepen relationships that we have offline."

10 Days that Changed the World


Photo illustration by Paul Sahre; Image: Architect of the Capitol

Destiny can turn on a slender pivot, and history often occurs when nobody is watching.



I love history. I love insightful writing. I love ... YOU (for reading my blogs - thank you). Enjoy these Bon Mots.

July 2, 2006
Celebrating July 2

10 Days That Changed History

IT'S a badly kept secret among scholars of American history that nothing much really happened on Thursday, July 4, 1776.

Although this date is emblazoned on the Declaration, the Colonies had actually voted for independence two days earlier; the document wasn't signed until a month later. When John Adams predicted that the "great anniversary festival" would be celebrated forever, from one end of the continent to the other, he was talking about July 2.

Indeed, the dates that truly made a difference aren't always the ones we know by heart; frequently, they've languished in dusty oblivion. The 10 days that follow — obscure as some are — changed American history. (In some cases, they are notable for what didn't happen rather than what did.)

This list is quirky rather than comprehensive, and readers may want to continue the parlor game on their own. But while historians may argue endlessly about causes and effects — many even question the idea that any single day can alter the course of human events — these examples show that destiny can turn on a slender pivot, and that history often occurs when nobody is watching.

Anyway, happy Second of July.

JUNE 8, 1610: A Lord's Landfall

Three years after its founding, the Virginia Colony was a failure. A few dozen starving settlers packed some meager possessions and sailed from Jamestown on June 7, headed back toward England. The next morning, to their surprise, they spotted a fleet coming toward them, carrying a new governor, Lord De La Warr, and a year's worth of supplies.

If not for his appearance, Virginia might have gone the way of so many lost colonies. What is now the Southeastern United States could well have ended up in the French or Dutch empires. Tobacco might never have become a cash crop, and the first African slaves would not have arrived in 1619.

OCT. 17, 1777: Victory Along the Hudson

If one date should truly get credit for securing America's independence, it is when the British general John Burgoyne surrendered at Saratoga.

The battle's significance was more diplomatic than military: shortly after news reached Paris, the French king decided to enter the war on the American side. "If the French alliance and funding hadn't come through at that moment, it's hard to say how much longer we could have held out," says Stacy Schiff, author of "A Great Improvisation: Franklin, France and the Birth of America." The American Revolution might have gone down in history as a brief provincial uprising, and the Declaration of Independence as a nice idea.

JUNE 20, 1790: Jefferson's Dinner Party

On this evening, Thomas Jefferson invited Alexander Hamilton and James Madison to dinner at his rented house on Maiden Lane in Lower Manhattan. In the course of the night, Jefferson recalled, they brokered one of the great political deals in American history. Under the terms of the arrangement, the national capital would be situated on the Potomac, and the federal government would agree to take on the enormous war debts of the 13 states.

Had that meal never taken place, New York might still be the nation's capital. But even more important, the primacy of the central government might never have been established, says Ron Chernow, the Hamilton biographer. "The assumption of state debts was the most powerful bonding mechanism of the new Union," he says. "Without it, we would have had a far more decentralized federal system."

APRIL 19, 1802: Mosquitos Win the West

Events that change America don't always occur within our borders. Consider the spring of 1802. Napoleon had sent a formidable army under his brother-in-law, General Charles Leclerc, to quell the rebellion of former slaves in Haiti.

On April 19, Leclerc reported to Napoleon that the rainy season had arrived, and his troops were falling ill. By the end of the year, almost the whole French force, including Leclerc himself, were dead of mosquito-borne yellow fever.

When Napoleon realized his reconquest had failed, he abandoned hopes of a New World empire, and decided to sell the Louisiana Territory to the United States.

"Across a huge section of the American heartland, from New Orleans up through Montana, they ought to build statues to Toussaint L'Ouverture and the other heroes of the Haitian Revolution," says Ted Widmer, director of the John Carter Brown Library at Brown University.

JAN. 12, 1848: An Ill-Advised Speech

His timing couldn't have been worse: With the Mexican War almost won, a freshman congressman rose to deliver a blistering attack on President Polk and his "half-insane" aggressive militarism. Almost from the moment he sat down again, the political career of Representative Abraham Lincoln seemed doomed by the antiwar stand he had taken just when most Americans were preparing their victory celebrations.

Yet that speech saved Lincoln. "It cast him into the political wilderness," says Joshua Wolf Shenk, the author of "Lincoln's Melancholy." This insulated him during the politically treacherous years of the early 1850's — when Americans divided bitterly over slavery — and positioned him to emerge as a national leader on the eve of the Civil War. Lincoln's early faux pas also taught him to be a pragmatist, not just a moralist. "If he had been successful in the 1840's, the Lincoln of history — the Lincoln who saved the Union — would never have existed," Mr. Shenk says.

APRIL 16, 1902: The Movies

Motion pictures seemed destined to become a passing fad. Only a few years after Edison's first crude newsreels were screened — mostly in penny arcades, alongside carnival games and other cheap attractions, the novelty had worn off, and Americans were flocking back to live vaudeville.

Then, in spring 1902, Thomas L. Tally opened his Electric Theater in Los Angeles, a radical new venture devoted to movies and other high-tech devices of the era, like audio recordings.

"Tally was the first person to offer a modern multimedia entertainment experience to the American public," says the film historian Marc Wanamaker. Before long, his successful movie palace produced imitators nationally, which would become known as "nickelodeons." America's love affair with the moving image — from the silver screen to YouTube — would endure after all.

FEB. 15, 1933: The Wobbly Chair

It should have been an easy shot: five rounds at 25 feet. But the gunman, Giuseppe Zangara, an anarchist, lost his balance atop a wobbly chair, and instead of hitting President-elect Franklin D. Roosevelt, he fatally wounded the mayor of Chicago, who was shaking hands with F.D.R.

Had Roosevelt been assassinated, his conservative Texas running mate, John Nance Garner, would most likely have come to power. "The New Deal, the move toward internationalism — these would never have happened," says Alan Brinkley of Columbia University. "It would have changed the history of the world in the 20th century. I don't think the Kennedy assassination changed things as much as Roosevelt's would have."

MARCH 2, 1955: Almost a Heroine

When a brave young African-American woman was arrested for refusing to give up her seat on a Montgomery, Ala., bus, local and national civil rights leaders rallied to her cause. Claudette Colvin, 15, seemed poised to become an icon of the struggle against segregation. But then, shortly after her March 2 arrest, she became pregnant. The movement's leaders decided that an unwed teenage mother would not make a suitable symbol, so they pursued a legal case with another volunteer: Rosa Parks.

That switch, says the historian Douglas Brinkley, created a delay that allowed Martin Luther King Jr. to emerge as a leader. He most likely would not have led the bus boycott if it had occurred in the spring instead of the following winter. "He might have ended up as just another Montgomery preacher," Professor Brinkley says.

SEPT. 18, 1957: Revolt of the Nerds

Fed up with their boss, eight lab workers walked off the job on this day in Mountain View, Calif. Their employer, William Shockley, had decided not to continue research into silicon-based semiconductors; frustrated, they decided to undertake the work on their own. The researchers — who would become known as "the traitorous eight" — went on to invent the microprocessor (and to found Intel, among other companies). "Sept. 18 was the birth date of Silicon Valley, of the electronics industry and of the entire digital age," says Mr. Shockley's biographer, Joel Shurkin.

AUG. 20, 1998: Just Missed

With most Americans absorbed by the Monica Lewinsky affair, relatively few paid much attention when the United States fired some 60 cruise missiles at Qaeda training camps in Afghanistan. Most public debate centered on whether President Clinton had ordered the strike to deflect attention from his domestic troubles.

Although the details of that day remain in dispute, some accounts suggest that the attack may have missed killing Osama bin Laden by as little as an hour. How that would have changed America — and the world — may be revealed, in time, by the history that is still unfolding.

Adam Goodheart is director of the C.V. Starr Center for the Study of the American Experience at Washington College.

Saturday, July 01, 2006

US v. Fear

June 30, 2006
The Way We Live Now

A Check Against Fear

(Note: This article will appear in the July 9 issue of The Times Magazine.)

The afternoon before the Supreme Court handed down its instantly historic ruling in Hamdan v. Rumsfeld, Lt. Cmdr. Charles Swift, the Navy defense lawyer appointed to represent the man who has admitted to being Osama bin Laden's driver, Salim Hamdan, told me he was reading a minority opinion written 60 years earlier, in the wake of World War II, by one of the court's lesser-known justices, Wiley B. Rutledge. The case involved Tomoyuki Yamashita, a Japanese general who'd been convicted of war crimes and sentenced to death by a U.S. military tribunal, a verdict upheld by the court, 6-2, despite some glaring procedural deficiencies: among other things, the admission of hearsay evidence including propaganda films and unnamed witnesses. When Swift and I spoke, Supreme Court watchers had already deduced that Justice John Paul Stevens would be writing for the majority in Hamdan. Back in 1947, the 27-year-old Stevens was Rutledge's clerk, so Swift was consulting Rutledge's dissent in Yamashita for clues.

Swift read me stirring words from Rutledge's opinion: ''The immutable rights of the individual, including those secured by the due process clause of the Fifth Amendment, belong not alone to the members of those nations that excel on the battlefield or that subscribe to the democratic ideology. They belong to every person in the world, victor or vanquished, whatever may be his race, color or beliefs. They rise above any status of belligerency or outlawry.'' Swift paused and then added, ''I think tomorrow's going to be a good day.''

And of course it was. With the assent of four of his colleagues, Stevens ruled that the military tribunals created by presidential order in November 2001 to try enemies captured in the war on terror violated the Geneva Conventions and the Uniform Code of Military Justice and were therefore illegal. Stevens, it would seem, had absorbed his mentor's distaste for unbridled power. ''He was finally able to vindicate those values that Rutledge championed,'' says Allison Danner, who clerked for Justice Stevens in the late 1990's.

So much of the conversation concerning the war on terror has focused on fear - for some, the fear of losing our freedoms, for all, the fear of another attack. It's easy to overlook the counternarrative of hope, whether it's Iraqi citizens braving violence to vote in free democratic elections, the declining confidence in bin Laden in a number of Muslim countries (according to a recent Pew Research Center poll) or our Supreme Court reminding us of the resilience of the principles upon which this country was built. ''There are not many countries where a noncitizen with a fourth-grade education can sue the president,'' says Neal Katyal, the Georgetown Law professor who argued Hamdan's case before the Supreme Court. ''That is our great gift to the world. We're strong enough to say our system can handle it.''

Throughout our history, war has led to the abrogation of rights, from the Alien and Sedition Acts through the detention and internment of Japanese-Americans in World War II to the F.B.I.'s undercover infiltration of antiwar groups during Vietnam. More often than not, when asked to rule on the legality of these extraordinary measures, the Supreme Court has given the commander in chief a wide berth. This is understandable: ''Judges, like other citizens, do not wish to hinder a nation's 'war effort,' '' Justice William Rehnquist once wrote. And yet, when the court sets aside civil liberties and defers to the president, it acts out of fear; when the court checks the president and reaffirms those liberties, it acts out of strength - and, equally, hope.

President Bush has said that the war on terror presents unprecedented challenges and therefore demands a novel approach, the so-called new paradigm. It is true that we are fighting a new kind of enemy, one who is transnational, can wreak havoc on an epic scale and, in the case of suicide bombers, cannot be deterred by the threat of conviction in a court of law. But if the danger posed by this enemy is of a different character than we have encountered in the past, so, too, is the danger posed by our response to him. This is, after all, a war with no foreseeable end and a limitless battlefield. Left unchecked, the president could extend the reach of his wartime powers anywhere, ad infinitum. Do we need to narrow the scope of certain liberties to defeat radical Islam? The majority opinion in Hamdan does not preclude this possibility, but it does prevent the president from acting unilaterally, while inviting - compelling, really - Congress to assume its own share of constitutional responsibility for the war on terror. Will Congress prove a more vigilant steward of our civil liberties? We cannot say. In the future, the balance of hope and fear will depend on many things, most notably whether we are attacked again. But we are at least assured of an admittedly overdue debate about the conduct of the war. Before Hamdan, that debate, such as it was, consisted of the executive branch telling us - or not telling us - how it was prosecuting the war and of the denunciations issued by the executive branch's critics. We were told that after 9/11, everything had changed - or that nothing had changed. Now that our fear will be tempered by hope, the real conversation can begin.

Jonathan Mahler, a contributing writer, has written previously for the magazine about Guantánamo Bay. He is at work on a book about Salim Hamdan and his defense lawyers.

Friday, June 30, 2006

Woodstock Today


Alan Gerry founded the Bethel Woods Center for the Arts, which opens today and is the first of about 25 structures planned for the former Woodstock music festival site. The field where the Woodstock festival took place in 1969 is beginning a new life as the Bethel Woods Center for the Arts.

This field, this pasture, this hallowed place, is still a touchpoint for those in my generation some 37 years after the festival. I had just graduated from highschool when it took place in August of 1969. I watched the news of it with rapt attention and those memories of the images are seared into my mind's heart and my heart's mind. Enjoy.


July 1, 2006

Back to the Garden, Minus the Mud: Bethel Woods Center Opens at Woodstock Site

BETHEL, N.Y., June 25 — This is hallowed ceremonial ground, a 37½-acre sloping field that held the convulsive euphoria of a generation in its muddy embrace. Today just a Frisbee toss from the "freakout tent" that nursed hippies during the 1969 Woodstock music festival, the Bethel Woods Center for the Arts rises, a copper-sheathed concert pavilion that would have been a hallucinatory vision to the folks in sodden sleeping bags on Max Yasgur's farm.

Bethel Woods makes its debut on Saturday night, not with Country Joe McDonald but with the New York Philharmonic with Audra McDonald and Lang Lang, symbols of the center's aspirations, and this town's, to become an international cultural destination.

The center is just the warm-up act, the first of about 25 structures planned for 1,700 acres across the former Yasgur property and an adjoining farm. It is an ambitious $70 million roll of the dice, the consuming passion of 76-year-old Alan Gerry, an entrepreneur whose family foundation is subsidizing most of the cost. Mr. Gerry is known for another bold Catskills venture: As a high school dropout and ex-marine, he transformed a television repair store in Liberty, N.Y., into Cablevision Industries and then sold it to Time Warner Inc. in 1995 for $2.8 billion.

Next year a museum about Woodstock and the 1960's is to open, designed by an architect who speaks about a "Woodstock viewshed" and conceptualized by a team that includes the founding director of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland. It will include artifacts and oral histories from festival performers and participants like Wavy Gravy, and offer walking tours of the "bowl," where the original stage stood. The complex will join a handful of new regional arts centers in New York that include Frank Gehry's Richard B. Fisher Center at Bard College and Dia: Beacon, both in Dutchess County.

What Cooperstown is to baseball, Bethel could be to the baby boom. Mr. Gerry, who dresses in the style of Johnny Cash, is gambling that the center will transform Sullivan County — suffering from decades of economic decline — into a land of B&B's and the 1,000-thread-count sheet. This summer's concert program features the Boston Pops, Wynton Marsalis, the Goo Goo Dolls, Counting Crows and, yes, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young.

"We're starting from scratch again," said Sam Yasgur, a Sullivan County lawyer whose father, Max, died in 1973 but still occupies an exalted place in counterculture history. "For the county to become a destination like the Berkshires is going to require a major mentality shift."

The complex has also received $15 million in state funds, mostly for infrastructure. Anticipating growth, Bethel, which for years tried to forget the festival, has given $2.6 million for a new sewer system along Route 17B, the byway famously clogged with hippies in 1969.

"It's the 21st-century equivalent of protecting the battlefields of the Civil War," Dennis Barrie, a consultant and founding director of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, said of the site, which has had a contentious post-Woodstock history and which purists hoped would remain completely undeveloped.

Mr. Gerry is an unlikely savior. He forbade his eldest daughter, Annalise, to go to Woodstock, but she went anyway, and "disappeared for five days," he said. He was persuaded to buy the property by another daughter, Robyn, now 48, who missed out on the festival. A behind-the-scenes player, Mr. Gerry had a fortune tied to the county's mountainous terrain, about 100 miles north of Manhattan, where television reception was poor. Many in these parts still remember him as their television repairman. He now runs Granite Associates, which manages the family's assets. (The center is not a business investment, he said.)

During the last decade Mr. Gerry quietly amassed property surrounding the Woodstock site, including a neighboring farm where the sleek concert pavilion is now. His architect, Paul E. Westlake Jr., is Mr. Gerry's third, after he dismissed Richard Meier, designer of the Getty Center in Los Angeles, for a concept that "looked like a flying saucer," Mr. Gerry said. The interior of the Woodstock museum integrates local stone and wood beams in an attempt to recall the ad hoc, lashed-timber-and-canvas structures on the original concert site.

Mr. Gerry is taking a resolute, build-it-and-they-will-come stance. The son of Russian immigrants named Gorowitz, he still lives in the hamlet of Ferndale and has doled out beautification grants to nearby towns for roadside flower baskets and what seems like the country's largest concentration of gazebos.

"Families used to come from somewhere, and that's where they stayed," he said. "I can't imagine finding success and then moving to a building in Manhattan with 300 strangers, like a bunch of little ants going home at night. Not that I don't love New York," he added.

Sullivan County is a patchwork of shuttered diners, faded billboards and dilapidated summer bungalow colonies that commune with New Age retreats and organic farms.

For years the economy revolved around what are now mostly defunct Jewish resorts like Grossinger's that nurtured comedians like Alan King and Milton Berle. "We sat shiva for these hotels for 25 years," said John Conway, the county historian, referring to the traditional Jewish period of mourning. "It kept us from getting on with our lives."

In recent years a stream of Manhattanites seeking reasonable prices and a low-key vibe have snapped up weekend homes. The moneyed Orvis crowd casts bamboo fly rods into the fabled trout pools of the Beaver Kill.

The new Bethel Woods center is inspiring a mini-gold-rush. Judith Maidenbaum, a Manhattan psychoanalyst and a cafe owner in Kauneonga Lake in Sullivan County, recently paid $100,000 for a handsome Colonial-era house she intends to turn into a B&B, anticipating that the area might finally take off. "No one knew Woodstock was going to be Woodstock," she said.

But the Woodstock ethos remains deeply ingrained. Barbara Hahn, now 70, whose living room is a riot of Hummel figurines, sat with her Shih Tzu, Mickey, on her lap, and recalled being a nurse in the "bad-trip tent." With a grandmotherly demeanor, she recalled as if it were just yesterday how she lifted off from Grossinger's airstrip in an Army helicopter, bearing thousands of tetracycline tablets.

"My first patient dove into shallow water and split his head open," she recalled. "I asked, 'Are you still tripping?,' and he said, 'The trip is over.' "

The festival site has become a Graceland-style pilgrimage stop, its reverential gathering spot the 5½-ton monument erected by a local welder. Duke Devlin, the site's gray-bearded unofficial greeter, who came to the festival and never left the region, waggishly refers to the marker as "the Tomb of the Unknown Hippie."

Douglas Brinkley, a professor of history at Tulane University, said the site would only grow in historical significance. "It was where a generational wave gathered and broke," he said. "It is the one spot a hundred years from now that will be identified with the 60's."

When Mr. Gerry's foundation bought the site in 1996, a small fraternity of preservationists rallied to protect it. The New York State Office of Parks, Recreation and Historic Preservation determined that it was "nationally significant" and asked that permanent construction not be placed within the natural amphitheater where the original concert was held.

In deference to history, the museum will look out over the sacred slope. Mr. Barrie and the exhibition team are on the prowl for coveted artifacts, like the yellow legal pads on which the co-producer Michael Lang scribbled the original site layouts.

Some purists argue that the complex should have been completely concealed. "The big preservation issue is, 'What is the true site of Woodstock?' " said Michael William Doyle, an associate professor of history at Ball State University in Muncie, Ind., who consulted with one preservation group. "Is it the staging area or the place where 400,000 to 500,000 troops massed all the way to the thruway?"

The end result is "bittersweet," he said.

"The site has been kept true to its original purpose," he said, although it no longer replicates the exact visual experience of 1969. That would be impossible: the Woodstock festival became free when gate-crashers famously dismantled the chain-link fences; Mr. Gerry has miles of elegant split rail.

Indeed, the litany of rules for Saturday's opening — no hibachis or coolers, no lawn chairs at pop-music concerts, only one "factory-sealed" plastic bottle of water per person — has sparked amused contempt among the aging flower children who still populate these hills, their drug of choice now Advil.

"It's the antithesis of the original spirit," said Jeryl Abramson, who with her husband, Roy Howard, has hosted an alternative Woodstock gathering since 1996. "Six-dollar water and no lawn chairs for the geriatrics!"

Blue, 55, whose real name is Robin S. Hallock and who was featured in a 1969 Life magazine article wearing love beads and what she called "three days of mascara," said, "Woodstock was beautiful, pure, sacred and natural." Now, she added: "I picture limousines on one side and us old hippies on the other. It doesn't sound like much fun."

But Country Joe McDonald, who lives in Berkeley, Calif., and whose "I Feel Like I'm Fixin' to Die Rag" was an antiwar anthem, said he thought it was "wonderful" that the site would again be used for outdoor music.

"I got no dog with the guy who bought it, even if he is a capitalist pig," he said. "It's not a sacred piece of land to me; the event is sacred. Woodstock happened. It will live on."

Additional reporting for this article was contributed by Lisa W. Foderaro in White Plains.