What To Do?

November 4, 1998

Last Friday, at an art gallery in Chelsea, I witnessed an amazing purchase.

On the floor of the showroom was a 3x3 checkerboard of alternating copper and lead tiles. Joined at an angle to this was a 4x4 checkerboard made of the same materials. Joined to these two checkerboards was another one measuring five tiles wide by five tile high. The three checkerboards were joined together in such a way that they created a triangle of empty space in the middle.

Fifty tiles total; half lead, half copper.

Price: $200,000.

Now who in the hell would pay $200,000 for an arrangement of fifty cheap tiles?! And that is exactly what this big guy from Dallas who was perusing the gallery with his wife said.

"Now who in the hell would pay $200,000 for this?!"

His high-haired wife squeezed his arm as a silent admonition to quiet down. (High-haired Texas women look very similar to high-haired Jersey girls. Except girls from Temple or Waco don't have annoying accents like girls from Trenton or Weehawken. Oh...wait...yeah they do.)

Anyway, the big Texan--(I knew he was a Texan because he mentioned Dallas no less than 13 times)--said that in no way could he justify spending that kind of dough on some tiles.

"Good for him!" I thought. He may be big and loud and from Dallas, but the guy had common sense.

"I'll give ya a hundred and fifty for it."

"I think we can work with that" the gallery owner murmured in her East Coast clenched teeth moneyed voice.

"$150,000 for a box of tiles!!!" I thought. At the time I am writing this, one can buy 150,000 hamburgers for that. That's five times the average American's annual salary. That kind of money can get you ten decent automobiles or a good single-family house in most parts of the country.

As I have touched on before, since moving to New York, I have become cognizant of an America I did not know existed; an America in which $150,000 is regarded the same way I think of $1.50 in change in my pocket. To a few in this country, $150,000 is nothing. Petty cash. Just like to me, $1.50 is nothing, but to a homeless guy, that's maybe three hours of panhandling in the cold.

Speaking of homeless guys, after my sales call--(the owner bought our advertising, by the way...I guess I got her while she was in $150,000 worth of good spirits)--anyway, after my sales call, I stepped outside into the chilly Chelsea morning and saw, just a few feet from the entrance to the gallery, a filthy man passed out under two or three equally filthy blankets. It was hard to distinguish the man from the blankets. Actually, I'm not even sure it was a man. I couldn't even tell if the person was black or white. Most of the figure's humanity had been worn off and washed down the gutter.

The irony of the scene was not lost on me. $150,000 could do a lot for this man. I wondered if installing that box of fifty tiles in his foyer in Dallas would be more satisfying to the big, loud, Texan than had he helped the poor throw-away on the sidewalk.

Now this is not a New York problem. New York is not really different than the rest of the country; the disparities between the many Americas are just concentrated here. In Dallas or Denver or Des Moines one must go out of one's way to find the poor and disenfranchised.

Here, you just have to step over them.

Broadway Jim Jenkins

		What to Do?
		November 4, 1998 Last Friday, at an art gallery in Chelsea, I witnessed an amazing purchase. On the floor of the showroom was a 3x3 checkerboard of alternating copper and lead tiles. Joined at an angle to this was a 4x4 checkerboard made of the same materials. Joined to these two checkerboards was another one measuring five tiles wide by five tile high. The three checkerboards were joined together in such a way that they created a triangle of empty space in the middle. Fifty tiles total; half lead, half copper. Price: $200,000. Now who in the hell would pay $200,000 for an arrangement of fifty cheap tiles?! And that is exactly what this big guy from Dallas who was perusing the gallery with his wife said. "Now who in the hell would pay $200,000 for this?!" His high-haired wife squeezed his arm as a silent admonition to quiet down. (High-haired Texas women look very similar to high-haired Jersey girls. Except girls from Temple or Waco don't have annoying accents like girls from Trenton or Weehawken. Oh...wait...yeah they do.) Anyway, the big Texan--(I knew he was a Texan because he mentioned Dallas no less than 13 times)--said that in no way could he justify spending that kind of dough on some tiles. "Good for him!" I thought. He may be big and loud and from Dallas, but the guy had common sense. "I'll give ya a hundred and fifty for it." "I think we can work with that" the gallery owner murmured in her East Coast clenched teeth moneyed voice. "$150,000 for a box of tiles!!!" I thought. At the time I am writing this, one can buy 150,000 hamburgers for that. That's five times the average American's annual salary. That kind of money can get you ten decent automobiles or a good single-family house in most parts of the country. As I have touched on before, since moving to New York, I have become cognizant of an America I did not know existed; an America in which $150,000 is regarded the same way I think of $1.50 in change in my pocket. To a few in this country, $150,000 is nothing. Petty cash. Just like to me, $1.50 is nothing, but to a homeless guy, that's maybe three hours of panhandling in the cold. Speaking of homeless guys, after my sales call--(the owner bought our advertising, by the way...I guess I got her while she was in $150,000 worth of good spirits)--anyway, after my sales call, I stepped outside into the chilly Chelsea morning and saw, just a few feet from the entrance to the gallery, a filthy man passed out under two or three equally filthy blankets. It was hard to distinguish the man from the blankets. Actually, I'm not even sure it was a man. I couldn't even tell if the person was black or white. Most of the figure's humanity had been worn off and washed down the gutter. The irony of the scene was not lost on me. $150,000 could do a lot for this man. I wondered if installing that box of fifty tiles in his foyer in Dallas would be more satisfying to the big, loud, Texan than had he helped the poor throw-away on the sidewalk. Now this is not a New York problem. New York is not really different than the rest of the country; the disparities between the many Americas are just concentrated here. In Dallas or Denver or Des Moines one must go out of one's way to find the poor and disenfranchised. Here, you just have to step over them. Broadway Jim Jenkins