Read through all of the Liebling material and select one piece to critique on our blog. Please upload before class. Do not password protect this post.
Your critique should include what works and what doesn’t work with specific examples, and a discussion of the writer’s literary style.
How does Liebling’s New York compare to NYC in 2013?
SMALL BUSINESS STORIES
We will be working on your small business stories (final drafts are due next Tuesday, October 22nd). Please bring in all notes, background research, and your current draft (which should include the following: a lede, nut graf, and an outline of the story at the very least).
Before class, make the decisions regarding the design of your story: where do the different parts belong? Remember that all drafts are to be password protected when uploaded to our class blog.
Subway Game & Phone, a video games/electronics store in upper Washington Heights, was a thriving business until its owner Mike abruptly decided to stop selling video games entirely, for a reason not oftentimes paired with business decisions.
Mike found himself at a pivotal moment in his career due to lifestyle changes he had made, and decided to shift radically the business model of his store. His decision to stop selling video games, as detrimental as it was to his business, was in his opinion, the best decision he could have made for himself, as a Christian man.
The store, which got its namesake from being located directly across the street from the 191st Street 1 train station, had been in business since 2002, with Mike working in it “since around 2003. I became manager about three years into it, and then I officially became the owner in 2011.” Over time, he noticed trends with his customers, mainly that business would be “slower in the summer time, people don’t really want to stay indoors playing video games.”
For this reason, very few games are released in the summer months, with the majority of high profile releases coming out in the fall months of October and November. As a result of the slower business, Mike said it’s “why we have more than just video games; we also sell cell phones and things to make up for the slow times.”
The decision to cut video games out of his business came from a personal obligation to his faith as a Christian. “A few months after becoming a Christian,” Mike said, ” I started feeling guilty selling violent and demonic video games to the community, to young people. So, even though it was a bad business decision, sometimes you have to make sacrifices for what’s truly important.” After he made his decision, “the store started doing poorly sales-wise… I felt overwhelmed and was going to start selling the video games again and do the rated E (kid friendly) games, but on the day that I was going to do it, coincidentally, or, providentially, someone – another Christian –was in the store, sharing his testimony with my brother who was working here that day. I was overhearing their conversation and I had an inner feeling that the lord was telling me, ‘if you come back to selling video games, what happened to that man is going to happen to you.’” This not only changed Mike’s mind on the decision, but further cemented his view on the new vision for his business.
As a result of the drastic shift in the business model, the range of customers visiting the store has shifted. “Fewer kids are coming; it’s an older crowd now.” The interview itself was interrupted several times due to customers coming in to ask questions about their phones or purchase new components for them.
Business has actually slowed down to the point where Mike is looking to sell the business, as early as the first week of October. The price of rent has “increased by a certain percentage every month since we got here” and it is difficult to pay my bills without the video game sales. The business “would’ve survived even if the rent increased, if we would’ve stayed selling video games, but it’s one of those major life decisions that affect the rest of your life.”
The experience of running a business in Washington Heights negatively impacted Mike, as he explained that running a store is “too much work… in the hours it’s closed, you’re consumed with it. You’re still thinking about it.” He prefers the idea of working for someone else now, because “when you’re the boss, you’re always thinking about how to make it better, responsibilities you have to do, and all these different things.” Ultimately, on running one’s own business, he said “unless you’re doing something that you really love” he wouldn’t recommend doing it.
Joseph Mitchell’s “Professor Seagull” a profile on Joe Gould, a Village bohemian with many identities, as well as his second profile on the same man “Joe Gould’s Secret,” startled and humored me in ways a young reporter can only dream of.
While reading Mitchell’s first profile of Gould, I was curious about how he pitched the idea to his editor at The New Yorker—from profiling a nocturnal wanderer to a colorful story of a bohemian. It certainly was quite a challenge to keep tabs on Mr. Gould. He could have been any reporter’s nightmare…or dream.
Mitchell did a fantastic job at painting a portrait of Gould, using his journalistic skills to include colorful quotes and descriptions of the man with a book eleven times longer than the Bible, or so he says. (My most favorite description of Gould included the loads of ketchup he collected in diners, though he didn’t really like the stuff.)
Mitchell paid attention to the details and that is why his writing style in “Joe Gould’s Secret” as well as “Professor Seagull” proves to be timeless. With names of streets and places across New York, Mitchell tells a story of a man who still seems like he could be a member of the city today.
More importantly, as a reporter Mitchell was able to connect and be patient with Mr. Gould—which I believe was critical to tackling the story of such a fleeting, quirky personality.
While I saw less of Mitchell’s personality and opinion of Gould in his first profile, it became quite clear that he was driven to write his second profile of the same man because of the never-ending relationship and responsibility Mitchell had with his subject Gould.
Mitchell was earnest and even poetic:
I suddenly felt a surge of genuine respect for Gould. He had declined to stay in Norwood and live out his life as Pee Wee Gould, the town fool. If he had to play the fool he would do it on a larger stage, before a friendlier audience. He came to Greenwich Village and had found a mask for himself, and he had put it on and kept it on. The Eccentric Author of a Great, Mysterious, Unpublished Book—that was his mask. And, hiding behind it, he had created a character a good deal more complicated, it seemed to me, than most of the characters created by the novelists and playwrights of his time.”
I was not surprised when Mitchell found out Gould’s “Oral History” did not exist. But I certainly was surprised at Mitchell’s response in the excerpt above. I might have been quite upset, writing a profile for readers who later donated money so Gould could continue schlepping throughout the village collecting histories for his supposed book…buried in a duck and chicken farm in Long Island!
Mitchell was indeed upset with Gould after contacting editor friends to speak with Gould about publishing his “Oral History,” but he became captivated by Gould’s true story, which was not the mysterious book, but what it represented.
Though Mitchell grew frustrated with Gould at times. He very well could be nominated as one of the toughest subjects a reporter could choose. Gould had an unpredictable schedule, never-ending rants about himself, orders like switching his permanent mailing address to The New Yorker, and unexpected visits to Mitchell’s office with a hangover.
Though Mitchell made a transition in “Joe Gould’s Secret” as a dedicated reporter catering to Gould’s every whim, sitting to hear his “Oral History” for ten hour shifts at a time, to Mitchell as a believer.
As a young reporter, one can aspire to handle a situation like this: to be as patient and as tactical and as human as Mitchell was with his subject Joe Gould. He was a subject who many believed in and helped. And even though it is the job of a reporter to write the truth, Mitchell was tasked to write the profile of a deeper personality, one who had a mask.
The second time around—Mitchell got his profile of Joe Gould completely.
By Jennifer Ross
In 2009, Shakeema Renee Hutcherson was involved with AmeriCorps, a national program designed to create jobs and pathway opportunities for young people entering the workforce. Placed to work temporarily for two years with Disconnected Youth, she bonded with kids in the court system. Coming from a dysfunctional background herself, she made significant progress towards a better life. She impressed her supervisor with her work. So much that he propositioned his superior to offer her a permanent job. Then, the New York economy hit a recession. “We don’t have any money. We’re not getting any funds” was their only explanation. In a split second, her future came to a complete halt.
The oldest of seventeen children, Hutcherson was well versed in the art of handling children. Her lessons began at the age of seven, with five siblings. Having an absent father and a drug-addicted mother, Hutcherson worried about how to care and nurture both herself and her younger siblings. Looking up to her with eyes and mouths wide-open, she did what was necessary to survive. “It was a trying time,” said Hutcherson. “I just basically had to do what I had to do. We always had food because of me. My mom really wasn’t there. She would leave for months so I would have to take care of them.”
With no job and no prospects, Hutcherson’s ex-girlfriend advised her to apply at Dog Wash Doggie Daycare & Boarding in Greenwich Village. There was only one problem. Hutcherson was afraid of dogs. Before she could hesitate, Hutcherson went in for an interview and was required to demonstrate her animal skills. “So I went into the pen and all the dogs migrated to me. Literally, migrated to me! They knew I was here. I thought, ‘okay, this is cool. Let me see what this is about.’ And they just loved me.” From then on, she was hooked on animal love.
From fear of the unknown came kisses galore. Hutcherson naturally bonds with her four-legged clients. Photo: Courtesy of Hutcherson.
Life in the four-legged world jump started Hutcherson’s future to success, once again. With the combination of training lessons at work, watching episodes of Cesar Milan’s Dog Whisperer at home, and her past skills of raising children, Hutcherson mastered both small and large breeds with ease. Clients opting not to board their beloved pooch, requested Hutcherson to pet sit at their homes. As a result, Hutcherson founded Home Sweet Paws in 2010, offering only pet sitting services as a way to supplement her income. Prices for her services began, and still are, seventy-five dollars per night up to the first five nights, for the first dog. Longer stays or an additional dog meant a discount on price per night.
It only took one year for word-of-mouth to spread in the dog community. Jennifer Lebeau, owner of a brown and white Dachshund mix named Beau, was a client that soon came searching for Hutcherson’s services. “Beau fell in love with her here at the dog park so I felt totally comfortable with her,” Lebeau said regarding her getting to know Hutcherson. “After speaking with some of the people in the park about her, she was the only person I actually even thought of caring for Beau.”
Everyday, Keema brings her clients to George’s Dog Run to run and socialize with neighborhood dogs. Photo: Jennifer Ross
With the great potential gain in the dog business, Hutcherson decided to quit her job to become self-employed in March 2011. She added dog walking and training services to Home Sweet Paws.
Compared to other dog walkers in the area, Home Sweet Paws’ prices are reasonable, charging twenty-five dollars per hour, per dog, for dog-walking service. For those clients needing an hour-long dog walk every weekday, Monday through Friday, she gives a discount of five dollars per hour. This is a savings many clients appreciate considering other local dog walkers can charge as much as sixty five dollars per hour for the same dog walking service.
For basic obedience training, Home Sweet Paws offers a two-week puppy-training package for a flat rate of one thousand dollars. This service comes complete with the puppy temporarily residing with Hutcherson for the duration, and is put on a vigorous 24 hour schedule to include healthy eating, sleeping, playing habits, learn basic commands, individual and dog-pack leash walking and potty training.
Just like any other start up business, there were times when the growing pains of a business stifled her profits. “It was hard. In the beginning, I literally only made $90-100 a week, dog walking,” Hutcherson said. Yet, she continued to move forward, determined to succeed. “It’s about the clientele; what you can do and what you show people. So, my whole thing was, let me get out here, show people I can actually do this. I can handle their dogs and their dogs love me.”
In her line of profession, calmness is key. It is her calmness with dogs, a lesson both Hutcherson and the dogs learned from each other, that has also allowed her to find peace about her past. “Whatever I was going through, I would just come in and the dogs would make you feel like nothing else in the world mattered.”
Malverne Mayor Patricia McDonald listening to resident at the monthly Board of Trustees meeting
Sitting at her desk with pictures of family members and close friends surrounding her, a petite blonde haired women wearing a red blazer with a “M” button on the lapel reminiscences of growing up in Malverne and now being the Mayor of that same village. Patricia Ann Norris-McDonald remembers the endless fun she had running with friends in Westwood Park, and has stuck to her roots of serving the community as the current Mayor.
As a resident she is aware of a uniqueness the village has to offer, a virtue of helping each other. “It is a small village and some people may want to get out of here, but I found that when I wanted to raise a family this was a good choice,” she stated. Married to retired NYPD detective Steven McDonald, they both instilled the same beliefs to their son Conor McDonald.
On the night of July 12th, 1986 the lives of Patricia and her husband changed from that point on. Steven McDonald was undercover and was pursuing a teenager in Central Park. The suspect shot McDonald twice, which resulted in paralyzing him from the neck down. Pregnant with their son, Patricia stayed by her husband’s side until he was able to come home.
The McDonalds reside in the same house as they did during the accident, but it was not handicap accessible and needed to accommodate the family. Patricia explained that the village was extremely helpful in creating a healing environment. “The community was able to help. The Village of Malverne expedited the process of getting permits to start construction. The residents gave their love and support by bringing cards, food and prayers,” stated McDonald.
Through this long journey Patricia and her husband conveyed a message of strength and a positive outlook on the situation. “Our faith is very important to us,” stated McDonald. She also explained that the help she still receives from friends and neighbors is tremendously appreciated.
The McDonalds recently held a mass at their house for NYPD officers that were helping repair the house and Patricia noted the importance of forgiveness. Steven McDonald forgave the teenager that shot him and she explained they had the strength because of faith. “We live a normal life in an abnormal situation,” stated McDonald.
“It is not easy everyday, sometimes his chair or van breaks down and he has to stay in bed and it effects him emotional,” she noted.
Prior to becoming the mayor in 2006, McDonald was member of the Board of Trustees and throughout her tenure in public service she has made numerous accomplishments. “At this level of government you get to see a direct impact,” she stated.
McDonald explained that her recent accomplishment was the restoration of a cracked and dilapidated basketball court in the Westwood section of Malverne. In a short amount of time the village transformed the rundown court to a vibrant and welcoming play area. For outsiders it may not seem like a big deal, but it gives the children a place to exercise,” she stated.
Robert Powers, the former Village Historian, realized that once he started to work with McDonald she always but the needs of someone else before her own. “Before making an decision she attempts to see what the consequences will be,” stated Powers.
The thing that makes McDonald a caring person is the same thing that could be her downfall, “She cares too much and she tries to please all the residents, but it is impossible to do,” Powers said.
Serving the community, McDonald discovered on her own that impossible task of pleasing everyone. “Residents of Utterby Road probably do not have nice things to say about me and the administration,” she stated.
Residents have been receiving parking tickets in front of their homes because they are paying attention to street signs. “People feel that if there is a No Parking sign in front of their home they are excluded from getting a ticket, but it doesn’t matter residents have to pay attention to signs,” McDonald explained.
Utterby Road is near the business district of Malverne and to deter patrons from parking on that street signs were installed. One resident stated, “this is completely ridiculous that we cannot park in front of our own house. The village should give us a permit or advice, but they are not doing anything.”
McDonald and the Board of Trustees organized meetings to discuss this matter with the residents in the hope that the issue will be resolved.
Residents’ resentment stretches farther than Utterby Road; Stephen Dziuba recalls he made numerous calls to McDonald’s office about a car accident that occurred in front of his home on Linden Street. However, his efforts were futile because she never returned his calls. “I believe that since she knew the person who was at fault, she purposely neglected my phone calls to press charges,” he stated.
Even though some residents are not pleased with McDonald, others feel that she has been their voice on the Board of Trustees. “She is has showed support to issues that are close to me and has stuck to promise she made during her campaign,” resident Danielle Cavilere noted.
“I truly feel very privilege to be mayor of this small community and I do not know what will happen in a year from March, that is when my term ends, but I hope I made a difference in the time as Mayor and Trustee for the best,” explained McDonald.
The warm light coming from antique lamps illuminates the church, as people slowly 
trickle in through the entrance. Mothers hush their children as the fathers make the sign of the cross. Old men and women with their canes, slowly make their way to empty seats, as others kneel silently in prayer. A young girl with a soft, eloquent voice gets up from the front pew and makes her way up the small stairs to welcome the people to the Sunday Mass at St. Thomas the Apostle Church. Led by two young boys in white gowns, each holding a tall post, Reverend John Francis makes his way down the aisle towards the brightly lit altar. The parishioners stand and look on, as the Reverend, in his green gown and golden staff, slowly marches to the sound of the church organ. Within three minutes, the Reverend reaches the altar to the rising tremor of the organ and in his thick foreign accent, announces the most common words to every faithful Christian, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
Sunday mornings of celebrating Mass have been the essence that unites the small neighborhood of Woodhaven. Since 1910, St. Thomas is the only Catholic Church in Woodhaven, Queens. But what was once a community of Italian and Irish Americans is now noticeably more racially diverse. No longer are the Sunday Masses spoken in English; a separate Mass is held in Spanish for the growing Latin American and Hispanic community. Coming from a Pakistani background, Rev. Francis himself is part of the growing diversity in the Woodhaven community. In his fourteen years of serving as a Catholic priest, he has been a member of the St. Thomas Parish for the last five years.
During these years, the Reverend is not only seen serving Masses and shaking hands with parishioners, but he also contributes as a writer to the local paper, The Reporter. With a glance at his name printed below on one of his articles, one wouldn’t think twice about his involvement in the large Catholic community in Woodhaven. However, the distinctive, heavy accent laced through the words of his homily paints a different image.
The resonance of his voice, however, was lost upon meeting him in person in the privacy of his office. Small religious oil paintings of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary are hanging behind his wooden desk. He gave a nervous smile, took a deep breath and sat on the black, leather chair. Against the frantic phone calls and the opening and closing of the office door, the Reverend quietly told his story.
“When I was a student, I saw in my hometown many priests, missionaries from different countries,” Rev. Francis said. The Reverend never thought of living in America—let alone, a mainly Caucasian neighborhood—but his mind was always set on sharing his faith with the community. “These senior priests were trying their best to convey their message and I [thought] why can’t I do the same job?” Rev. Francis said. From this point on, he began his journey in becoming a priest through out his high school and college years.
The Reverend’s determination outshines his quiet demeanor. This determination brought him from his hometown in Pakistan to the city of Rome to pursue his career as a Catholic priest. While in Rome, the Reverend received a calling. “They were looking for someone like me, who can speak Pakistani,” Rev. Francis said. It was in Rome that Rev. Francis decided to accept a job as a parochial vicar, a job that consists of speaking not only to the Pakistani community, but to the rest of the thriving community in Woodhaven, Queens, as well.
The Pakistani community makes up less than 10% of the neighborhood’s population, and not all of them are Catholics. The Reverend, however, does not neglect the rest of the congregation despite the racial disparity. “He celebrates Spanish Mass here twice a month,” said Natalie, the St. Thomas Parish secretary and office manager. The Latin American and Hispanic community makes up more than half of Woodhaven’s population at 55.7%. To accommodate this expanding community, Rev. Francis studied the Spanish language and speaks it almost as well as he speaks the English language.
The Reverend’s service goes beyond the church’s walls and into people’s homes. During his years as a parochial vicar, Rev. Francis visited senior citizens’ homes to provide them spiritual direction in the form of the Holy Communion. “He was a very quiet, but he did a great thing for my parents,” Rose Chia said. Rose Chia’s eighty-six-year-old parents are devout Catholics who are unable to attend Mass due to their old age. “He came here and prayed with them even if they haven’t met before,” Rose said.
Despite his guarded personality, Rev. Francis communicated words that inspired many parishioners. “He repeats things over because he wants us to understand,” said Angel, a local catechist and administer of the Holy Communion during Mass. The heavy accent is not a hindrance to Rev. Francis, but a way to earnestly connect to the local people, regardless of their ethnicity or even the language they speak. “Father Francis would take his time to do anything for you […] because he wants you to remember his words,” Angel said.
Religious education and diversity are what drives the Reverend to continue his service in Woodhaven. He longs for pews in the church to be filled during Sunday mornings and for more strangers to shake hands with and remember. He longs to see more faces of different races and ages. “Indians from Ghana, from Bangladesh, and of course, from Pakistan, they come with all these issues,” Rev. Francis said, as he glanced out the office to see the coming parishioners. “I want to really feed them with the word of God because this is our community; we are one Church,” he said.
By Roxanne Torres
Put simply, I love Joe Gould’s Secret by Joseph Mitchell. It’s easy to see, now, why it is held in such high regard. However, I couldn’t help but think the entire time, ‘Lucky for Mitchell, he was profiling a writer.’
Mitchell obtained great quotes and colorful banter out of Gould not only because of his eccentric nature, but also because Gould was also a writer and a master (arguably) of words and journalism himself. No wonder all of the quotes are so playful and fit for a great profile. I would have loved to see the actual interactions between the two men. How can you so accurately profile a man or woman who is a master of the same field? Is there such truth in interviewing and profiling a character who knows exactly what you’re trying to get at, ultimately?
On the subject of dating himself, Mitchell dabbles in the kind of text that we are not accustomed to reading every day in 2013, but cannot be dubbed as “old fashioned” or “out of date” by any means.
On page 9, Mitchell writes, “…once a madam and once a dealer in narcotics…” The reader can understand that a “madam” is a prostitute, and a “dealer in narcotics” is a drug dealer in our lexicon, but he doesn’t use such outlandish words that we are left confused.
On page 27, Mitchell writes, “…enrolled a score or so of dues-paying members…” about Gould’s Friends of Albanian Independence. “Score,” meaning 20, is something that can be attributed to the text originally published in 1942 and not 2013.
Other words and phrases that Mitchell might use to date the text include, “A.B.” when referring to Gould’s degree from Harvard, “per cent” when referring to inaccurate numbers Gould spoke of, and “bareheaded” to describe Gould’s eccentric look when Mitchell first met him.
I liked, in particular, one great phrase.
Page 29, Gould describing the Oral History and what it means to him, “…my wound and the salt on it, my whiskey and my aspirin, and my rock and my salvation.”
Dennis Regis spends his day in his floral shop stemming roses. “I’ve adapted to the flowers,” he said.
Dennis Regis is a part of his father’s legacy.
By the time Dennis was twelve years old he had already started dressing corsages in carnations, orchids, gardenias, and roses. Unlike many of his friends in junior high, he spent his afternoons helping his father in his floral shop.
One night John Regis took his son to dinner after he took sole ownership of his floral shop. They dined at the Villa Russo just a short drive away and his father had something important to tell him.
“It’s going to be me and you against the world,” said Dennis Regis “And I never forgot that.”
Heaps of stems were strewn along the floor of his floral shop. Mr. Regis has spent his entire life creating floral designs for an evolving ethnic community in south Queens.
“That’s the only thing I ever did my whole life. I always loved flowers and what they brought to the public,” he said as he stemmed dozens of roses in his floral shop that he has owned for nearly 25 years.
Today Mr. Rigas, 67, serves anywhere from ten to twenty customers each day, working 12 to 14 hour shifts, seven days a week. And on holidays like Mother’s Day and Valentine’s Day, the line continues right until the back alley of his shop.
His love for flowers has always been constant. “I’ve adapted to the flowers,” he said. But like his father, Mr. Regis has also had to adapt to the changing ethnic community in south Richmond Hill.
His floral shop sells “malas” or garlands of carnations for Hindu icons and funeral rituals, floral backdrops for “mandaps” in Hindu weddings, and signature designs of OM, a Hindu symbol of peace—all targeted to the emerging Indo-Caribbean immigrant enclave.
“That’s our specialty. I was the first to do it with the Caribbean people … We specialize in Caribbean culture,” he said mentioning that it took a little while to restructure his business to suit the rising Indo-Caribbean enclave — now helping him sustain a business as the leading floral designer in south Richmond Hill.
“It took me a few years to dedicate my whole structure to them, because now I carry prayer flowers, their flowers for their holidays, their plant,” he said chuckling, “and when we started this, all of the florists were German and Irish and they didn’t want to deal with the Italians.”
Mr. Regis is familiar with targeting his flower business to suit the needs of a shifting customer base. After all, he has seen the work of his father John Regis, a jovial man who was a first-generation Greek and newcomer to a local floral industry once dominated by German, Irish and Jews in the 1950s.
“Up to 1956 we did very little business, we were relatively very poor in my family,” he said. But he pointed out that his father found a new band of customers that the other florists did not want to deal with.
“We dealt with them. They were a little rough… they come in yelling and hollering, people you know they got intimidated. And Italians they want big, big, and bigger,” he said.
Mr. Regis mentioned that his father made his business with an influx of Italians ordering large floral centerpieces. And so his father was able to run their family floral shop on the corner of Lefferts Boulevard and Liberty Avenue. In 1962 John Regis was featured in LIFE magazine as one of the leading florists in the New York City metropolitan area.
Mr. Regis became a full-time florist working with his father for 20 years and in 1989 he bought his own florist shop just four blocks away from his father’s. “It’s been a long time,” said Mr. Regis who said since then his life has become about making beautiful flowers for people, just like the life of his father.
“Since the time I was ten years old up until the time I was 45 years old—I gave him my heart and soul,” said Mr. Regis about his father, now deceased.
He said even now that his father is gone, his life will always be about working with the ebb and flow of the flowers and the needs of local residents.
“I go with the flow, it’s the only thing I got left when it comes to work.”
By: Kamelia Kilawan
