Clifford Browder's Blog, page 21

364. Con Men, Cheats, and Thieves

GIVEAWAY:  No  Place for Normal: New York

What you get:
The first three people who sign up will get a free print copy of my award-winning stories No place for Normal: New York / Stories from the Most Exciting City in the World (summary and review below).  U.S. residents only.  Previous winners not eligible.  Winners should be new to me and this blog.  Offer runs until 9 p.m. EST Saturday, July 21, or as soon as three people have signed up.  More giveaways will follow.  To subscribe, use the sign-up form in the sidebar on the right.

All subscribers will get announcements of my weekly posts for this blog, which is about anything and everything New York.  Also, word of new releases, like Fascinating New Yorkers (see in BROWDERBOOKS below), to be released July 26.




No Place for Normal: New York / Stories from the Most Exciting City in the World  (Mill City Press, 2015).  Winner of the Tenth Annual National Indie Excellence Award for Regional Non-Fiction; first place in the Travel category of the 2015-2016 Reader Views Literary Awards; and Honorable Mention in the Culture category of the Eric Hoffer Book Awards for 2016.  All about anything and everything New York: alcoholics, abortionists, greenmarkets, Occupy Wall Street, the Gay Pride Parade, my mugging in Central Park, peyote visions, and an artist who made art of a blackened human toe.  In her Reader Views review, Sheri Hoyte called it "a delightful treasure chest full of short stories about New York City."
If you love the city (or hate it), this may be the book for you.  An award winner, it sold well at BookCon 2017 and 2018.
Review 

"If you want wonderful inside tales about New York, this is the book for you.  Cliff Browder has a way with his writing that makes the city I lived in for 40 plus years come alive in a new and delightful way.  A refreshing view on NYC that will not disappoint."  Five-star Amazon customer review by Bill L.
Available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
Con Men, Cheats, and Thieves
     Once, long ago, when my brother met me at an airport to give me a lift to the family apartment, he said with a canny look, “Let me tell you about my new scam.”   His “scam” was simply a plan to redeem hundreds of coupons in newspapers, so as to acquire a lifetime supply of whatever at a reduced price.  Being in the newspaper distribution business, he had access to reams of unsold papers and so had a free hand in clipping reams of coupons.  There was nothing illegal about this; he was simply taking advantage of his position to buy things cheap.  Years later, when I came back to bury him, I found the apartment crammed with his spoils: a lifetime supply of deodorants, ditto of detergent, car repair equipment that only a grease monkey could appreciate, and I don’t recall what else; it took me weeks to clear it all out.  But what I still remember most vividly, was that look on his face when he announced his so-called scam: canny, shrewd, knowing, worthy of Wily Coyote, the trickster of many Native American legends.  It was indeed the look of an operator about to put something over on others – in other words, the look of a con man.
     New York, like any big city, is a mecca for con men, cheats, and thieves.  An African American cruising the streets in a fancy limousine stuffed with clothing once asked with a winning smile if I’d like to buy some clothes; I declined, convinced that they were stolen items.  He was surely a thief or a fence.
The mug shot of Bernard Madoff, whose Ponzi scheme
was the biggest fraud in U.S. history.
     On another occasion when I found myself at night in midtown, I saw a man trying to sell some paper dolls to some sailors.  Aligned side by side, the dolls were dancing on the sidewalk as if by magic.  It was an old trick still being played. But the sailors weren’t fooled; they were looking for the hidden strings that propelled the dolls.  Seeing this, another man standing nearby announced in a resonant voice, “It’s show time!”  He repeated his warning a second time, and the vendor of the dolls packed them up and moved on down the street.  “I knew there was a hidden string,” said one sailor, “and here it is.”  Looking closely, he had detected the almost invisible string.
Charles Ponzi, who was so successful a swindler in the 1920s that he has given his name to the fraud  where the con man promises investors fabulous returns, then uses the money from later investors to pay the earlier investors.
     Another scam that used to be practiced in the city involved a man entering into conversation with a stranger outside a bank and telling him that banks were frauds, they took your money but wouldn’t give it back.  He would repeat this assertion so consistently, so smugly, that the other man would wax indignant and tell him he was crazy.  “Go ahead, just try,” the first man would dare him, “try to withdraw a sizable sum, and you’ll see that I am right.”  So the dupe would do just that, and it was just a matter of time before he and his money were separated.  How could anyone fall for such an obvious scam, you and I and almost everyone would wonder, and the victim, once disabused, would wonder the same.  But at the time, he fell for it hook, line, and sinker, and – to mix metaphors – got royally fleeced.
     Today the cheats take advantage of the Internet to reach you in your home.  Once, out of nowhere, I got an e-mail: “Aloha!  I’d like to get to know you.  From your profile I think we have lots in common.”  The sender seemed to be a pleasant young woman. Surprised and charmed, I was tempted to respond, but some good spirit deep within me, some demon of skepticism, held me back, and I quickly realized that this was probably a scam, bait to entice you to interact and yield personal information useful to the scammer.  Like all such greetings since, I deleted it.
     On another occasion I got an e-mail purporting to be from my publisher, saying that on the spur of the moment he had taken a trip abroad – I think he said to the Philippines – was in trouble there and needed money; if I could send him several hundred, he’d repay me as soon as he got back.  This smelled fishy, so I asked for more information.  The appeal was repeated urgently, but it seemed fishier than ever, so I asked how he knew me, what was the connection?  No answer came.  I then e-mailed the publisher and got an immediate reply: an account of his had been hacked, and this appeal was going out to many of his authors and acquaintances whose e-mail addresses had been discovered; he was now closing the account and opening another with a different password. Beware of sudden e-mail appeals.  With hindsight, I realize that I shouldn’t even have answered the first appeal before contacting him for verification.
     And of course we’re constantly assaulted by ads that make glowing vague promises.  I once encountered this one:
     WOULD  YOU  LIKE  TO  BE  A MILLIONAIRE? 
Amused, I answered by mail as instructed: “Yes, please tell me how to become a millionaire!”  The reply was simply a run-of-the-mill invitation to invest in something or other, an offer so drab and uninspired that it wasn’t worth messing with, even to chuckle or debunk it. 
     I’m not always so canny.  Recently I got an envelope labeled Social Security & Medicare, personal statement enclosed, and in bold red ink, EXPIRATION  NOTICE.  At the very thought of my Social Security and Medicare expiring, I almost panicked and hurriedly opened the envelope.  So what did I discover?  It was an appeal from the National Committee to Preserve Social Security & Medicare, urging me to renew my membership – in other words, give them more money. Looking closely at the envelope, I now saw that the words “National Committee to Preserve” were indeed there, but in small print.  They had tricked me into opening the envelope. But this so annoyed me that I vowed never to give them money again – not exactly the dénouement they intended.
     There are trivial tricks and scams, but serious ones perpetrated by real artists of the trade abound.  The AARP Bulletin, distributed widely to golden oldie, often has articles about online scams practiced on the elderly.  For instance:
·      Notifications by e-mail claiming that the U.S. Post Office or some other entity has a delivery for you; click on the link and you get malware.·      Rogue retailers offering bargain prices that you find on social media or through search engine results; they want your credit card number or will sell you inferior goods (or maybe nothing at all).·      Charity cons claiming to benefit police, firefighters, veterans, sick or needy children, or victims of natural disasters; again, they want your credit card number.·      Gotcha giveaways offering free merchandise or free vacations, likewise hoping to get your credit card or other sensitive information.
Not to mention scams that relieve some oldsters of their life’s savings, or induce them to send money to rescue a grandchild who is reportedly in some kind of unforeseen trouble. 

     Being a bit of a tightwad and suspicious by nature, I’ve never fallen for any of these cons, but long ago a friend of mine was outrageously conned by a master of the trade.  My friend Kevin, a natty, sophisticated New Yorker, told me he had just met an interesting visitor from South America (I forget which country) named Vergilio and was quite taken with him.  The next thing I knew, Kevin had arranged with a friend who was going away on vacation to let Vergilio move into her place temporarily. Kevin’s praise of Vergilio grew ever more intense, and finally I met this paragon when Kevin invited me over for cocktails. Vergilio was a good-looking young man of about thirty, no kid, well-groomed and well-mannered, with a soft, pleasing voice and a gracious smile.  Good enough, but everything about him, while pleasing, seemed strangely vague.  He was right there in the present, but he seemed to have no past and no discoverable future – a mysteriousness that made him that more interesting to Kevin.   
     “What is it about this guy that so gets to you?” I asked Kevin later.
     Kevin flashed a look of intensity.  “I’ve never known anyone like him.  He’s fascinating.  He has glamour!”
     Glamour – a word I associate with Hollywood brouhaha – was something I had never hankered for, but it was clear that it appealed to some need deep in Kevin’s psyche.  But I was worried.  For me, Vergilio, who had appeared out of nowhere, was a smile over a cocktail glass, nothing more.
     In the weeks that followed, Kevin began evincing alarm: Vergilio's health was not all it should be.  Then he informed me that Vergilio was going to consult a doctor on the doctor's yacht, which struck me as an odd site for a consultation.  Next I got a phone call from Kevin, with anguish in his voice: "Vergilio is dying!"  His friend had informed him that he was suffering from a long-term fatal ailment, its exact nature undisclosed, that required treatment in Europe; he would be leaving soon.  So Vergilio left; Kevin moped about, waited for news, worried.  Postcards came from Paris, Monte Carlo, Nice, with only the briefest message and no news about his treatment.

     Three weeks later he was back, well-groomed and urbane as ever, the same soft voice, the same smile over a cocktail glass.  He showed Kevin and me a series of photographs from his trip, every one featuring a smiling and handsome Vergilio in a well-appointed residence, his host unidentified: photos of a narcissist.  By now even Kevin sensed something amiss, but his need of glamour locked him into the spell.

     Vergilio now informed Kevin that he had to return to Europe for an operation that might or might not save his life, probably not; professing embarrassment, he confessed he needed money for the trip.  Why he had to turn to a new friend, and not to old friends and family, went unexplained.  Kevin at once gave forth of his own meager savings, then phoned any number of friends, entreating them to loan him what they could.  Some did, some didn't.  I myself, unable and unwilling to label Vergilio a liar or a fraud without convincing evidence, promised five hundred dollars but then, common sense prevailing, gently but firmly declined.  "I don't believe in it," I explained.  Kevin’s response: "I feel like I've been kicked in the teeth.”
     Vergilio departed once again for Europe, and I heard no more of him, for Kevin and I were now estranged.  Finally I phoned a mutual friend, asking how he was.  "He's learning what he has to learn," she said, but refrained from saying more.  Months passed; other matters claimed me, but I thought often of Kevin.  Finally he phoned and invited me over.  He looked worn and wan, but got to it right away: "If I ever see him again, I'll say to him, 'What?  You're not dead? But that's why I gave you all that money and sent you back to Europe. Dead -- you should be dead!'"  A hard look came over him that I had never seen before.
     To my knowledge, Vergilio never reappeared in New York; if he did, it was at a far remove from Kevin.  Kevin never mentioned his name again.  Since his finances were habitually precarious, I doubt if he ever repaid any of his friends.  But of one thing I am sure: Vergilio was off somewhere, on this continent or another, smiling over a cocktail glass and enlisting the sympathy and generosity of friends. New friends; to the old ones he wouldn't dare show his face.
     Vergilio was a classic example of the con man, and Kevin a classic example of the dupe.  (Note my insisting on “con man” and never “con woman” or “con person”; it seems to be a males-only game.)   It has been argued that we humans are born to be conned, that the true con artist makes us feel good about ourselves, makes us think he’s giving us just what we deserve.  The victim is always swept up in a narrative that at the time seems absolutely compelling. 
      So it was with Kevin.  He had a deep need to experience glamour, and Vergilio satisfied that need marvelously, to the point that Kevin ignored all the danger signs: the vagueness of Vergilio’s ailment, and his obvious good health; Vergilio’s inability to get help from old friends and family; Vergilio’s trip to Europe supposedly to get medical aid, a trip memorialized in photos of Vergilio in luxury settings that belied the very purpose of the trip.  Kevin was a sophisticated New Yorker, but he fell for the con that a shrewd operator offered him, and his awakening was harsh.  The wound was long in healing, if it ever did heal completely.


Coming soon: Maybe "Fear of Falling."

BROWDERBOOKS  

All books are available online as indicated, or from the author.

1.   Bill Hope: His Story  (Anaphora Literary Press, 2017), the second novel in the Metropolis series.  New York City, 1870s: From his cell in the gloomy prison known as the Tombs, young Bill Hope spills out in a torrent of words the story of his career as a pickpocket and shoplifter; his brutal treatment at Sing Sing and escape from another prison in a coffin; his forays into brownstones and polite society; and his sojourn among the “loonies” in a madhouse, from which he emerges to face betrayal and death threats, and possible involvement in a murder.  Driving him throughout is a fierce desire for better, a persistent and undying hope.
For readers who like historical fiction and a fast-moving story.


Reviews
"A real yarn of a story about a lovable pickpocket who gets into trouble and has a great adventure.  A must read."  Five-star Amazon customer review by nicole w brown.
"This was a fun book.  The main character seemed like a cross between Huck Finn and a Charles Dickens character.  I would recommend this."  Four-star LibraryThing review by stephvin.
Available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

2.  Dark Knowledge (Anaphora Literary Press, 2018), the third novel in the Metropolis series.  Adult and young adult.  A fast-moving historical novel about New York City and the slave trade, with the sights and sounds and smells of the waterfront. 
The back cover summary:
New York City, late 1860s.  When young Chris Harmony learns that members of his family may have been involved in the illegal pre-Civil War slave trade, taking slaves from Africa to Cuba, he is appalled.  Determined to learn the truth, he begins an investigation that takes him into a dingy waterfront saloon, musty old maritime records that yield startling secrets, and elegant brownstone parlors that may have been furnished by the trade.  Since those once involved dread exposure, he meets denials and evasions, then threats, and a key witness is murdered.  Chris has vivid fantasies of the suffering slaves on the ships and their savage revolts.  How could seemingly respectable people be involved in so abhorrent a trade, and how did they avoid exposure?  And what price must Chris pay to learn the painful truth and proclaim it?
Reviews

"A lively and entertaining tale.  The writing styles, plot, pace and character development were excellent."  Four-star LibraryThing early review by BridgitDavis.
"At first the plot ... seemed a bit contrived, but I was soon swept up in the tale."  Four-star LibraryThing early review by snash.
"I am glad that I have read this book as it goes into great detail and the presentation is amazing.  The Author obviously knows his stuff."  Four-star LibraryThing early review by Moiser20.
"... I enjoyed reading Dark Knowledge and Clifford Browder definitely managed to recreate the vibe and feel of that era so that I could almost smell the salty sea air and feel myself transported to that period. The characters are very well drawn, and in addition to Chris and Sal, who are fantastic, all of the other family members, former ship captains, etc. also have their own flavor and personalities. Sal is shown to be a smart and capable woman which I appreciated. But most of all, this is Chris’s story and Clifford Browder succeeds in highlighting the horrors of slavery through this book. This is great read!"  Five-star Readers' Favorite review by Gisela Dixon.
New release; available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

3.   The Pleasuring of Men  (Gival Press, 2011), the first novel in the Metropolis series, tells the story of a respectably raised young man who chooses to become a male prostitute in late 1860s New York and falls in love with his most difficult client.

What was the gay scene like in nineteenth-century New York?   Gay romance, if you like, but no porn (I don't do porn).  Women have read it and reviewed it.  (The cover illustration doesn't hurt.)






Reviews
"At times amusing, gritty, heartfelt and a little sexy -- this would make a great summer read."  Four-star Amazon customer review by BobW.
"Really more of a fantasy of a 19th century gay life than any kind of historical representation of the same."  Three-star Goodreads review by Rachel.
"The detail Browder brings to this glimpse into history is only equaled by his writing of credible and interesting characters.  Highly recommended."  Five-star Goodreads review by Nan Hawthorne.
4.  Fascinating New Yorkers: Power Freaks, Mobsters, liberated Women, Creators, Queers and Crazies (Black Rose Writing, 2018).  A collection of posts from this blog.  Short biographical sketches of people, some remembered and some forgotten, who lived or died in New York.  All kinds of wild stuff, plus some stuff that isn't quite wild but fascinating.  New York is a mecca for hustlers of every kind, some likable and some horrible, but they are never boring.




Review
"Fascinating New Yorkers by Clifford Browder was like sitting down with a dear friend and catching up on the latest gossip and stories. Written with a flair to keep the reader turning the pages, I couldn't stop reading it and thinking about the subjects of each New Yorker. I love NYC and this book just added to the list of reasons why, a must read for those who love NYC and the people who have lived there." Five-star NetGalley review by Patty Ramirez, librarian.
To be published July 26.  You can order it here from the publisher and get a discounted price (plus postage), but it won't be shipped before that date. Also available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble, minus the discount but with the delay.  A few signed copies are available now from the author (i.e., me) for $20.00 (plus postage, if needed).  

Available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.


©   2018   Clifford Browder

363. New York Hodgepodge

GIVEAWAY:  BILL HOPE

The first five people who sign up for BROWDERBOOKS news, using the sign-up form in the sidebar on the right, will get a free print copy of my novel Bill Hope: His Story (summary and reviews below).  U.S. residents only.  Winners should be new to me and this blog.  Offer runs until 9 p.m. EST Saturday, July 14, or as soon as five people have signed up.  More giveaways will follow.





Bill Hope: His Story  (Anaphora Literary Press, 2017), the second novel in the Metropolis series of historical novels set in nineteenth-century New York.  From his cell in the gloomy prison known as the Tombs, young Bill Hope spills out in a torrent of words the story of his career as a pickpocket and shoplifter; his brutal treatment at Sing Sing and escape from another prison in a coffin; his forays into brownstones and polite society; and his sojourn among the “loonies” in a madhouse, from which he emerges to face betrayal and death threats, and possible involvement in a murder. Driving him throughout is a hate of bullies and snitches, and a fierce desire for better, a persistent and undying hope.  Historical fiction, action/adventure.

Reviews
"A real yarn of a story about a lovable pickpocket who gets into trouble and has a great adventure.  A must read."  Five-star Amazon customer review by nicole w brown.
"This was a fun book.  The main character seemed like a cross between Huck Finn and a Charles Dickens character.  I would recommend this."  Four-star LibraryThing review by stephvin.

Available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

For my other books, see BROWDERBOOKS below.

New York Hodgepodge
This is a hodgepodge of New York experiences, real and otherwise.  Don’t look for a unifying theme; there isn’t any, except the wonders and horrors, the quirks and surprises of the city.
New York jokes
         These aren’t meant to amuse you; you’ve probably heard them a dozen or a hundred times.  But they say something about the New York mentality.
·      Tourist:  How do I get to Carnegie Hall?    New Yorker:  Practice, practice, practice.
·      Tourist:  Who’s buried in Grant’s Tomb?             (No recorded response.)
·                               A young man from the provinces arrives in New York, sets his  suitcase down, and announces, “Look out, New York!  I’m here to conquer you!”  Then he looks down: his suitcase is gone.

A New York myth: alligators in the sewers
         Snowbirds returning north from Florida supposedly bring back cute little baby alligators as pets.  Then, as the pets get bigger and bigger, they panic and flush them down the toilet.  Result: Alligators ranging in the sewers.  (But hard confirmation is lacking.)

Wildlife in the city
         Speaking of alligators, there is plenty of confirmed wildlife in the city.  No, I don’t mean roaches, mice, and rats, our ubiquitous fellow residents, or the wood ticks that show up in Jamaica Bay Wildlife Sanctuary and elsewhere in the spring, or even the magnificent peregrine falcons that nest on tall buildings and make precipitous plunges to seize their mammalian prey.  I mean unexpected and surprising creatures, as for instance:
·      The muskrats I’ve seen in Jamaica Bay Wildlife Sanctuary.

·      The little brown bat that zipped past me once in the North End of Central Park.

·      The red fox once reported in Van Cortland Park, though I myself never saw it.

·      The raccoon I saw high in a tree in Central Park. Has this guy been in your 
garbage lately?    
       In addition to the above, coyotes have been seen in the suburbs north of here and in the city as well, on the streets of Harlem, near Columbia University, and in Central Park, though I have yet to spot one.  I thought coyotes were a Western critter, but it seems that there is an Eastern coyote who is common upstate but has adapted to urban settings, since in them he finds all his favorite foods: rabbits, squirrels, cats, small dogs, and garbage.  People often mistake coyotes for dogs.  Coyotes have long, thick fur, a bushy tail usually pointed down, and erect, pointed ears.   
        Of course I've saved the best till last: copperheads inhabit the Jersey Palisades, just across the river from New York.  They and other creatures lurk in the hollows and crevices under the Giant Stairs, a jumble of huge fallen boulders on the Shore Path of the Palisades, a path that I have often walked, scrambling over the boulders, some of which teeter slightly as you scramble.  A rough forty-five-minute trek through a unique landscape that you wouldn’t expect here in the East.  Copperheads are poisonous, but like most snakes they keep away from humans, so in my noisy scrambles over the Giant Stairs I have never seen one.  Also inhabiting the Palisades are raccoons, red foxes, skunks, chipmunks, shrews, moles, and rabbits – all this, just across from the cement and asphalt density, the traffic and the ruckus, of the city.

A copperhead: beautiful, if seen from a distance.  Look close
and you'll see a black snake as well.  Tad Arensmeier
Street cries of long ago
         Our streets are noisy with traffic sounds and jackhammer screeches, but street cries of vendors are rare, maybe because they wouldn’t be heard over all that racket.  But the early 1800s were different.  Here are some of the street cries from that period, uttered by wandering vendors, some with carts, some without:
Here’s your beauties of oysters, your fine fat briny oysters!
Butter mil-leck!  Butter mil-leck!
Here’s white sand, choice sand, here’s your lily white sand, here’s your Rockaway beach sand!  (Often strewn on floors of taverns.)
Glass put eeen!  Glass put eeen!
Sweep ho!  From the bottom to the top, without a ladder or a rope!  Sweep ho!  Sweep ho! 
Morburre
          Chimney sweeps were common on the streets of nineteenth-century New York, as in Victorian England.  Usually a master and his young apprentice roamed the streets together, the master calling out his cry to alert the householders in need of his services.  The boy would climb up the chimney with a brush to loosen the soot, and then climb down again to bag and remove it.  If he didn't climb properly, he might get stuck in there and not come out alive.  Only much later did machines replace climbing boys.

The velocipede craze
         In 1869 a new craze from France suddenly swept New York: the velocipede.  This was a crude forerunner of the bicycle, though at the time everyone thought it the very latest in personal transportation and amusement.  Academies and rinks for teaching and riding the velocipede sprang up all  over the city, and hardy young males flocked to them to master this new skill.  The wheels were of iron and the saddle rigid, which discouraged long excursions, so most of the riding was done in indoor rinks.  Accidents were frequent; the victims could display their wounds in much the same way that today's high school football players show their scars and bruises, heroic mementos of a noble sport.


The spite house
         Years ago passersby were puzzled by a four-story row house at East 82nd Street and Lexington Avenue that was only five feet wide.  There was of course a story behind it.
         In 1882 a clothier named Hyman Sarner who owned several lots on East 82nd Street decided to build an apartment house on his property, which extended almost to Lexington Avenue.  Along Lexington Avenue was a narrow strip of land, valueless, he thought, unless joined to the land he already owned, so he set out to acquire it.
         Learning that the land belonged to one Joseph Richardson, he offered the gentleman a thousand dollars for the land.  But Richardson demanded five thousand, which Sarner thought outrageous.  When Sarner refused, Richardson called him a tightwad and showed him to the door.  So Sarner built his four-story apartment house anyway, with side windows looking out on Lexington Avenue. 
         Now came Richardson’s revenge: he would build a narrow four-story building on his strip of land smack against Sarner’s building, thus cutting off the view from Sarner’s windows.  A building only five feet wide?  His wife and daughter thought he was crazy, but Richardson’s spite was not to be denied; he would live there himself – obesity was not his problem – and rent to skinny tenants.
         Within a year the house was built, cutting off the view and light from Sarner’s windows.  There were two suites to a floor, each with three rooms and a bath, and stairs between floors so narrow that only one person could use them at a time.  To pass each other in the halls, one person had to duck into one of the rooms so as to let the other one pass.  Richardson and his wife moved into a ground-floor suite and, amazingly, found narrow tenants who moved in with narrow furniture. 

         The house quickly became a local legend, inspiring articles and jokes.  But when a journalist of pronounced rotundity came to interview Richardson and was told that the owner was up on the roof overseeing workmen doing repairs, he started up the stairs and at once got perilously stuck; alas, the more he wiggled to get free, the more he got wedged in.  A tenant from the ground floor tried to help by pushing from below, and a tenant from above who wanted to reach the street began pushing in the opposite direction.  Mauled simultaneously from above and below, the journalist finally got the two tenants to desist, then took off his outer clothes and wiggled free, and so proceeded up to the roof in his underwear to conduct an airy interview. 
         Don’t go to Lexington and East 82nd Street to see this anomaly; it and Sarner’s adjoining building were torn down in 1915 – long after Richardson had died – to make room for a much larger apartment building that could accommodate tenants of whatever proportions.

          Footnote:  As my partner Bob has reminded me, there is a house in Greenwich Village only nine and a half feet wide, now the narrowest in the city.  It is a three-story red-brick house on Bedford Street off Seventh Avenue, built in 1873.  Edna St. Vincent Millay lived there in 1923-24.  It was evidently squeezed in between two adjoining buildings where there was once a carriage entranceway leading to stables in the rear; no spite was involved.

The offal boat

         In the old days of horsepower, before the internal combustion engine, the city’s transportation was mostly horse-drawn, which meant that the city’s streets were often encumbered with dead horses, not to mention cows, and the pigs that ran about freely, scavenging the streets and thus saving their owners the cost of feed.  So what happened to all those smelly carcasses, so offensive to eye and nostril?  The answer: the offal boat.

         Departing a dock at 34th Street in the North (Hudson) River regularly in the 1860s was a small sloop piled high with the carcasses of horses, cows, pigs, dogs, and cats, plus barrels, tubs, tanks, and hogsheads of blood and entrails.  Its destination: a bone-boiling plant up the river that would receive this smelly cargo and use it to produce leather, bone (for buttons, etc.), manure, soap, fat, and other products.  In one week the sloop disposed of 50 horses, 9 cows, 135 small animals, and 3,100 barrels of offal.  The city’s butchers delivered blood and offal from the slaughterhouses; the rest was brought in ten carts by a contractor.  In this way the streets were delivered of an odorous impediment that was actually turned into a variety of useful products. 

         Which prompts me to ask what happens today to all those junked cars and other abandoned contraptions that we would like to make disappear.  Where are they, and what becomes of them?  Will archeologists eons hence discover the remains of vast automobile graveyards and wonder what strange civilization could have produced such a huge array of junk?  Or will all that have crumbled away, leaving only little plastic thingamabobs?  I wonder.


Open graves covered with plywood.
Photo courtesy of Ian Ference,
The Kingston Lounge.  



Hart Island


          And what becomes of humans -- the unclaimed bodies 
that turn up in every big city -- one may also ask.  The answer in New York is that, since 1869, they are taken to Hart Island, a quiet, grassy island only about a mile long and a quarter mile wide in Long Island Sound near City Island in the Bronx.  This now uninhabited island, at various times the site of a lunatic asylum, a sanatorium, a boys' workhouse, and a drug facility, is the city's potter's field, the final resting place of some 800,000 anonymous, indigent, and forgotten persons who are buried in closely packed pine coffins in common graves, three coffins deep for adults, and five for babies.  Some 1500 bodies arrive yearly, about half of them stillbirths and infants who are interred in small pine coffins.  "Baby Morales, age 5 minutes," says the paperwork on one; "Unknown male, white, found floating on the Hudson at 254th Street," says another.  Burials are done quickly and routinely without funeral rites, unless some spontaneous prayer from a gravedigger. 

          Note:  I have often wondered where the phrase "potter's field" comes from.  It is Biblical, saying what the chief priests did with Judas's thirty pieces of silver when, repenting of his betrayal of Jesus, he flung them down on the floor of the temple and went and hanged himself: "And they took counsel, and bought the potter's field, to bury strangers in" (Matthew 27:7).  A field used for extracting potter’s clay was useless for agriculture and so was available for burials.
          And who are those gravediggers?  Inmates from Riker's Island who arrive by boat handcuffed, but then climb down into the trenches to work unmanacled, most of them glad to be away from prison and out in the open air, working in the flat, calm solitude of the island.  They are paid all of fifty cents an hour, as is typical of our prison/industrial complex.  But they are not insensitive.  "Respect, guys, respect!" they caution one another, as they lower the coffins into the graves and then cover them with dirt.

          Hart Island is not open to the general public, most of whom have probably never even heard of it, and trespassers face a stiff fine.  But family members able to  prove their relatives are buried there can arrange visits.  This is no easy task, since one has to navigate numerous city agencies to obtain the necessary information.  The coffins have no individual markings, but each grave corresponds to an entry in a ledger.  If successful, the family members can then arrange to have the remains disinterred and removed for burial elsewhere.  But most of the remains are unclaimed.


          What is it like on the island?  The few who are allowed to visit have different impressions.  One visitor, seeing the crumbling vestiges of earlier installations, called it a dilapidated ghost town; another found it surprisingly peaceful, surrounded on sunny days by an expanse of scintillating water, and serenaded by the distant clanging buoys of Long Island Sound.  One hopes, for this last resting place of the unknown and forgotten, that the latter impression is more accurate.  But those crumbling vestiges have a haunting beauty that photography reveals: the beauty of abandonment and desolation.  I shall never be able to visit this forbidden island, but everything about it breathes mystery.



Coming soon: No idea.


BROWDERBOOKS  

All books are available online as indicated, or from the author.
1.   No Place for Normal: New York / Stories from the Most Exciting City in the World  (Mill City Press, 2015).  Winner of the Tenth Annual National Indie Excellence Award for Regional Non-Fiction; first place in the Travel category of the 2015-2016 Reader Views Literary Awards; and Honorable Mention in the Culture category of the Eric Hoffer Book Awards for 2016.  All about anything and everything New York: alcoholics, abortionists, greenmarkets, Occupy Wall Street, the Gay Pride Parade, my mugging in Central Park, peyote visions, and an artist who made art of a blackened human toe.  In her Reader Views review, Sheri Hoyte called it "a delightful treasure chest full of short stories about New York City."
If you love the city (or hate it), this may be the book for you.  An award winner, it sold well at BookCon 2017 and 2018.
Review 

"If you want wonderful inside tales about New York, this is the book for you.  Cliff Browder has a way with his writing that makes the city I lived in for 40 plus years come alive in a new and delightful way. A refreshing view on NYC that will not disappoint."  Five-star Amazon customer review by Bill L.
Available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.



2.  Dark Knowledge (Anaphora Literary Press, 2018), the third novel in the Metropolis series.  Adult and young adult.  A fast-moving historical novel about New York City and the slave trade, with the sights and sounds and smells of the waterfront. 
The back cover summary:

New York City, late 1860s.  When young Chris Harmony learns that members of his family may have been involved in the illegal pre-Civil War slave trade, taking slaves from Africa to Cuba, he is appalled.  Determined to learn the truth, he begins an investigation that takes him into a dingy waterfront saloon, musty old maritime records that yield startling secrets, and elegant brownstone parlors that may have been furnished by the trade.  Since those once involved dread exposure, he meets denials and evasions, then threats, and a key witness is murdered.  Chris has vivid fantasies of the suffering slaves on the ships and their savage revolts.  How could seemingly respectable people be involved in so abhorrent a trade, and how did they avoid exposure?  And what price must Chris pay to learn the painful truth and proclaim it?
Early reviews

"A lively and entertaining tale.  The writing styles, plot, pace and character development were excellent."  Four-star LibraryThing early review by BridgitDavis.
"At first the plot ... seemed a bit contrived, but I was soon swept up in the tale."  Four-star LibraryThing early review by snash.
"I am glad that I have read this book as it goes into great detail and the presentation is amazing.  The Author obviously knows his stuff."  Four-star LibraryThing early review by Moiser20.
New release; available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.


3.   The Pleasuring of Men  (Gival Press, 2011), the frst novel in the Metropolis series, tells the story of a respectably raised young man who chooses to become a male prostitute in late 1860s New York and falls in love with his most difficult client.

What was the gay scene like in nineteenth-century New York?   Gay romance, if you like, but no porn (I don't do porn).  Women have read it and reviewed it.  (The cover illustration doesn't hurt.)






Reviews
"At times amusing, gritty, heartfelt and a little sexy -- this would make a great summer read."  Four-star Amazon customer review by BobW.
"Really more of a fantasy of a 19th century gay life than any kind of historical representation of the same."  Three-star Goodreads review by Rachel.
"The detail Browder brings to this glimpse into history is only equaled by his writing of credible and interesting characters.  Highly recommended."  Five-star Goodreads review by Nan Hawthorne.

Available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.


4.  Fascinating New Yorkers: Power Freaks, Mobsters, liberated Women, Creators, Queers and Crazies (Black Rose Writing, 2018).  A collection of posts from this blog.  Short biographical sketches of people, some remembered and some forgotten, who lived or died in New York.  All kinds of wild stuff, plus some stuff that isn't quite wild but fascinating.  New York is a mecca for hustlers of every kind, some likable and some horrible, but they are never boring.








To be published July 26.  You can order it here from the publisher and get a discounted price (plus postage), but it won't be shipped before that date.  Also available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble, minus the discount but with the delay.  Signed copies are available now from the author (i.e., me) for $20.00 (plus postage, if needed), though in limited numbers.  

©   2018   Clifford Browder  

362. My Kill Days

For my other books, see BROWDERBOOKS below.





A collection of posts from this blog.  Short biographical sketches of people, some remembered and some forgotten, who lived or died in New York.  All kinds of wild stuff, plus some stuff that isn't quite wild but fascinating.  New York is a mecca for hustlers of every kind, some likable and some horrible, but they are never boring.


To be published July 26.  You can order it here from the publisher and get a discounted price (plus postage), but it won't be shipped before that date.  Also available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble, minus the discount but with the delay.  Signed copies are available now from the author (i.e., me) for $20.00 (plus postage, if needed), though in limited numbers.  

SMALL  TALK  

Pigeons are a part of New York.  Wherever you go, there they are on the sidewalk, plump, with a small head that bobs back and forth when they walk, and dark gray or bluish-gray plumage, often with two wing stripes and a dark band on the tail.  Strutting jerkily about, they are indifferent to your towering presence as they scavenge for food. "Rats with wings," said a former Parks Commissioner, and many would agree.  Also known as rock doves, and scientifically as Columba livia, pigeons look drab and tubby and let's face it, don't have class.  And they don't even belong here, in that they aren't indigenous.  They were brought here from Europe, probably in the 1600s, to be raised for the table.  Yes, at first they were a barnyard creature, destined for the tummies of the settlers.  But some of them escaped (and who can blame them?), nested in the crevices of buildings, and so became the omnipresent nuisance of today.  


MPF
          But there's more to the story than that.  A photographer who has published a book on them -- yes, a whole book on New York pigeons! -- is dazzled by their iridescent feathers, the fanlike sweep of their wings in flight, and their luminous eyes. And at the sight of them in flight, he claims to see grandeur.  So be it: even the lowly New York pigeon, if seen aright, has grandeur.  A lesson for us all.  

          (This Small Talk is indebted to "City of Pigeons and Yellow Cabs," an article by Sam Roberts in the Metropolitan Section of the New York Times of Sunday, July 17, 2018. The photographer mentioned is Andrew Garn, whose full-page color photographs of pigeons appear in his book The New York Pigeon: Behind the Feathers.)


KILL  DAYS


         Killing is in vogue these days.  Middle Eastern extremists massacre people at worship, Western bombs blow up whole wedding parties, ravaged vets commit suicide, enraged teenagers shoot their classmates, and floods drown whole villages.  Unless you're a soccer player, to grab a headline today you have to kill or be killed, or order someone else to do it for you.
         Kill: in English, a good clean stab of a monosyllable, swift as a bullet, keen as a knife, decisive as an ax.  But we use kill, killer, and killing in many ways.  Consider:
·      He made a killing in the market.·      You kill me.·      Trump Sr. to the Donald: Be a killer.·      Kill your darlings.  (Advice to poets regarding those lines they’re so in love with.)·      You’re a killjoy.·      It’s a great way to kill time.·      She was dressed to kill.·      The driver killed the engine.·      My editor killed the story.

         And to these one might add a kindred saying that has now spread throughout the English-speaking world, expressing a reaction to a drag queen or any female out to impress: “Queen, you slay me!”
         Obviously, “kill” and “killing” have many meanings.  My edition of Roget’s International Thesaurus lists synonyms for the adjective “killing” under no less than eight headings: deadly, alluring, exhausting, exciting, delightful, amusing, humorous, and beautiful.
         “Nous sommes tous des assassins” (We Are All Murderers) is the cheery title of a 1952 French film, and with news reports of teenagers gunning down their schoolmates, and disturbed vets turning their weapons not on themselves but on others, that title may not be so wrong.  


The St. Bartholomew's Day massacre in Paris, 1572.  The slaughter of the Huguenots.
So I ask myself, am I a killer?  My honest answer: only of roaches and of time.  Otherwise, I’m too much of a bourgeois, a peacenik, and a wimp.  But I have Kill Days.  And what, you ask, is a Kill Day?
         A Kill Day is a day when I desperately feel the need to kill something, a need that springs up seemingly out of nowhere, but that has been cooking deep inside me for years.  No, I don’t go out and shoot people; I have no quarrel with them.  And I don’t commit suicide or even try, though long ago I did on occasion try, albeit ineptly.  But that’s another story.  (If morbid curiosity impels you, see post #98, “My Suicides and Further Thoughts on the Subject.”)
         So aside from time, on a Kill Day what do I kill?  All kinds of things.  For example:
·      Roaches.  I inspect my glue traps and take great delight in counting the victims.   And if I see a roach -- BAM! -- I smash it.  Mice are also welcome.


SB_Johnny

·      Overflowing wastebaskets and trash cans (and high time).·      Clutter: old newspapers, unanswered letters, solicitations from worthy causes that entice me with addresses in imitation handwriting, free address labels, calendars, even a real dime that I pocket without scruples (they said “free," didn't they?) – all of which I do with wanton glee.·      Anything on my desk that takes up needed space: unread books (read them or get rid of them), unneeded paperweights, unread newspaper clippings, rubber bands, thumbtacks, paper clips, lists of things to do.·      Old clothes: donate or discard.·      Mementos.
         This last is the most significant, since in later years it risks generating the keenest regret.  When the Kill Day urge sweeps over me, I am impelled to throw out items that hitherto seemed precious.  Doing this, I rid myself of big chunks of my past while experiencing a rabid satisfaction.  Old letters from old friends -- out!  Photos from my years in college -- out!  Photos of old comrades and long vanished lovers -- out!  My letters to my mother over many years, which she accumulated – letters that told her only the surface of my life, but let me chronicle that surface over decades – out!  Old manuscripts: my first awkward scribblings, clumsy and unachieved, but not without hints of accomplishment – out!  In short, poignant reminders of my callow early days, precious to my departed family but painful and sometimes embarrassing to me – out!  My youth – out!
         I do this with a mix of bitterness and joy, but the joy is savage.  Indeed, I have an immediate feeling of purgation, of being cleansed and free … for a while.  But in the long run no Kill Day is complete without pangs of loss and hurt.  I will come to regret the destruction of many of these items – letters, photos, manuscripts – for they are irreplaceable.  But the regret is seasoned with a grim satisfaction, a reflection that life entails destruction, that time kills all, that obliteration is inevitable, and that hastening it breeds this savage joy.  And nothing provokes this joy more than to willfully destroy one’s own creations, whether significant or trivial -- one’s tiny gestures against our vanishing.  Doing this, one kills life, embraces doom and death.  A form of suicide, perhaps, but wisdom of a kind.

         This mood is no doubt shared by many, but it cannot and must not last.  Except in the chronically depressed, Kill Days are only occasional.  Life soon revives, trash accumulates, letters pile up on your desk, and you scribble or paint or sing, or make or sell something, or realize your own pettiness and do good deeds for others, or drink or take drugs, or browse at your computer.  Routine settles in, habits reassert themselves, and you go through the daily motions that give meaning, or a pretense of it, to your existence.  In the great world struggle between the Forces of Darkness and the Forces of Light, you have flirted with Darkness but come out on the side of Light.  And your life creaks or shambles on, or marches, or rolls merrily, until another Kill Day comes.

Coming soon: Maybe Pride 2018 in New York.  (I survived ... barely.)


BROWDERBOOKS  

All books are available online as indicated, or from the author.
1.   No Place for Normal: New York / Stories from the Most Exciting City in the World  (Mill City Press, 2015).  Winner of the Tenth Annual National Indie Excellence Award for Regional Non-Fiction; first place in the Travel category of the 2015-2016 Reader Views Literary Awards; and Honorable Mention in the Culture category of the Eric Hoffer Book Awards for 2016.  All about anything and everything New York: alcoholics, abortionists, greenmarkets, Occupy Wall Street, the Gay Pride Parade, my mugging in Central Park, peyote visions, and an artist who made art of a blackened human toe.  In her Reader Views review, Sheri Hoyte called it "a delightful treasure chest full of short stories about New York City."
If you love the city (or hate it), this may be the book for you.  An award winner, it sold well at BookCon 2017 and 2018.
Review 

"If you want wonderful inside tales about New York, this is the book for you.  Cliff Browder has a way with his writing that makes the city I lived in for 40 plus years come alive in a new and delightful way. A refreshing view on NYC that will not disappoint."  Five-star Amazon customer review by Bill L.
Available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

2.   Bill Hope: His Story  (Anaphora Literary Press, 2017), the second novel in the Metropolis series.  New York City, 1870s: From his cell in the gloomy prison known as the Tombs, young Bill Hope spills out in a torrent of words the story of his career as a pickpocket and shoplifter; his brutal treatment at Sing Sing and escape from another prison in a coffin; his forays into brownstones and polite society; and his sojourn among the “loonies” in a madhouse, from which he emerges to face betrayal and death threats, and possible involvement in a murder.  Driving him throughout is a fierce desire for better, a persistent and undying hope.
For readers who like historical fiction and a fast-moving story.

Reviews
"A real yarn of a story about a lovable pickpocket who gets into trouble and has a great adventure.  A must read."  Five-star Amazon customer review by nicole w brown.
"This was a fun book.  The main character seemed like a cross between Huck Finn and a Charles Dickens character.  I would recommend this."  Four-star LibraryThing review by stephvin.
Available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

3.  Dark Knowledge (Anaphora Literary Press, 2018), the third novel in the Metropolis series.  Adult and young adult.  A fast-moving historical novel about New York City and the slave trade, with the sights and sounds and smells of the waterfront. 
The back cover summary:

New York City, late 1860s.  When young Chris Harmony learns that members of his family may have been involved in the illegal pre-Civil War slave trade, taking slaves from Africa to Cuba, he is appalled.  Determined to learn the truth, he begins an investigation that takes him into a dingy waterfront saloon, musty old maritime records that yield startling secrets, and elegant brownstone parlors that may have been furnished by the trade.  Since those once involved dread exposure, he meets denials and evasions, then threats, and a key witness is murdered.  Chris has vivid fantasies of the suffering slaves on the ships and their savage revolts.  How could seemingly respectable people be involved in so abhorrent a trade, and how did they avoid exposure?  And what price must Chris pay to learn the painful truth and proclaim it?
Early reviews

"A lively and entertaining tale.  The writing styles, plot, pace and character development were excellent."  Four-star LibraryThing early review by BridgitDavis.
"At first the plot ... seemed a bit contrived, but I was soon swept up in the tale."  Four-star LibraryThing early review by snash.
"I am glad that I have read this book as it goes into great detail and the presentation is amazing.  The Author obviously knows his stuff."  Four-star LibraryThing early review by Moiser20.
New release; available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.


4.   The Pleasuring of Men  (Gival Press, 2011), the first novel in the Metropolis series, tells the story of a respectably raised young man who chooses to become a male prostitute in late 1860s New York and falls in love with his most difficult client.

What was the gay scene like in nineteenth-century New York?   Gay romance, if you like, but no porn (I don't do porn).  Women have read it and reviewed it.  (The cover illustration doesn't hurt.)






Reviews
"At times amusing, gritty, heartfelt and a little sexy -- this would make a great summer read."  Four-star Amazon customer review by BobW.
"Really more of a fantasy of a 19th century gay life than any kind of historical representation of the same."  Three-star Goodreads review by Rachel.
"The detail Browder brings to this glimpse into history is only equaled by his writing of credible and interesting characters.  Highly recommended."  Five-star Goodreads review by Nan Hawthorne.

Available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.


©   2018   Clifford Browder

media release, Fascinating New Yorkers

M E D I A    R E L E A S ECONTACTClifford Browdercliffbrowder@verizon.net
This Crowd Can Out-Trump Donald Trump

Clifford Browder’s Fascinating New Yorkers: Power Freaks, Mobsters, Liberated Women, Creators, Queers and Crazies is being released by Black Rose Writing on July 26.You think Donald Trump has been giving New York City a bad name?  Wait till you meet this crowd.  You’ll bebulldozed by Robert Moses,interrogated by Ayn Rand (“What are your premises?”),cross-examined by attack-dog lawyer Roy Cohn,caned by J.P. Morgan (if you try to photograph him),and terrorized by David (“Mr. Monster”) Berkowitz.You’ll also learn what prostitute’s daughter got to know two ex-kings and a future emperor, what film star's funeral caused an all-day riot in New York, and what pioneer in female erotica with two husbands kept a “lie box” with a record of her many lies, so she could keep her two lives straight.  Not to mention a cardinal archbishop who lived a double life, and a baroness with teaspoon earrings and a tomato-can bra.  Keep company with these New Yorkers and you will never be bored.  Shocked, yes, sometimes amused and sometimes angered, but never, never bored.Clifford Browder is a writer living in New York City’s Greenwich Village high above the Magnolia Bakery of “Sex and the City” fame.  He loves New York and celebrates it, warts and all, in his blog, "No Place for Normal: New York."  Fascinating New Yorkers consists of biographical sketches of people who lived or died in New York, some of whom Browder knew.  It is a selection of posts from his blog, as is his previous work of nonfiction, No Place for Normal: New York / Stories from the Most Exciting City in the World, which won several awards.  Browder is also the author of two biographies, a critical study of the French Surrealist poet André Breton, and the Metropolis series of historical novels set in nineteenth-century New York.  Though ripe in years, recently he learned the Charleston; geezers rock.  Fascinating New Yorkers is available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble and, with a pre-publication discount, from Black Rose Writing.  A few signed copies are also available now from the author.  For more information about Browder and his books, go to Browder's blog,  “No Place for Normal: New York” ; see the “About Me” page or click on any post and scroll down to BROWDERBOOKS.
###

media release, FNY

M E D I A    R E L E A S E CONTACTClifford Browdercliffbrowder@verizon.net 
 This Crowd Can Out-Trump Donald Trump

Clifford Browder’s Fascinating New Yorkers: Power Freaks, Mobsters, Liberated Women, Creators, Queers and Crazies is being released by Black Rose Writing on July 26. You think Donald Trump has been giving New York City a bad name?  Wait till you meet this crowd.  You’ll bebulldozed by Robert Moses,interrogated by Ayn Rand (“What are your premises?”),cross-examined by attack-dog lawyer Roy Cohn,caned by J.P. Morgan (if you try to photograph him),and terrorized by David (“Mr. Monster”) Berkowitz.You’ll also learn what prostitute’s daughter got to know two ex-kings and a future emperor, what film star's funeral caused an all-day riot in New York, and what pioneer in female erotica with two husbands kept a “lie box” with a record of her many lies, so she could keep her two lives straight.  Not to mention a cardinal archbishop who lived a double life, and a baroness with teaspoon earrings and a tomato-can bra.  Keep company with these New Yorkers and you will never be bored.  Shocked, yes, sometimes amused and sometimes angered, but never, never bored. Clifford Browder is a writer living in New York City’s Greenwich Village high above the Magnolia Bakery of “Sex and the City” fame.  He loves New York and celebrates it, warts and all, in his blog, "No Place for Normal: New York."  Fascinating New Yorkers consists of biographical sketches of people who lived or died in New York, some of whom Browder knew.  It is a selection of posts from his blog, as is his previous work of nonfiction, No Place for Normal: New York / Stories from the Most Exciting City in the World, which won several awards.  Browder is also the author of two biographies, a critical study of the French Surrealist poet André Breton, and the Metropolis series of historical novels set in nineteenth-century New York.  Though ripe in years, recently he learned the Charleston; geezers rock.   Fascinating New Yorkers is available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble and, with a pre-publication discount, from Black Rose Writing.  A few signed copies are also available now from the author.  For more information about Browder and his books, go to Browder's blog,  “No Place for Normal: New York” ; see the “About Me” page or click on any post and scroll down to BROWDERBOOKS. 
###

361. Broadway, the Most Famous Street in the World

For my other books, see BROWDERBOOKS below.





A collection of posts from this blog.  Short biographical sketches of people, some remembered and some forgotten, who lived or died in New York.  All kinds of wild stuff, plus some that isn't quite wild but fascinating.  New York is a mecca for hustlers of every kind, some likable and some horrible, but they are never boring.

To be published July 26.  You can order it here from Black Rose Writing, the publisher, and get a discounted price (plus postage), but it won't be shipped before that date.  Also available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble, minus the discount but with the delay.  A few signed copies are available now from the author (i.e., me) for $20.00 (plus postage, if needed), though I will soon run out.  


SMALL  TALK

         I've talked before of strange occupations found in New York City, so here's another: marine engineer diver.  A recent Times article interviewed Joe Finora, age 30, who is indeed a marine engineer diver who dives a lot in New York harbor and elsewhere.  So what exactly does he do underwater?  He inspects cruise line terminals, floating docks,  ferry terminals, and other structures.  Down there he has encountered whales, dolphins, sharks, and even unexploded bombs, though not necessarily here in New York.  He doesn't dive alone, though, but as part of a team of three: the engineer who dives; the tender, who sees to the diver's air supply and communications cable; and the radio communications operator who keeps in touch with the diver and takes notes on his findings.  The three teammates rotate jobs all day.  Adventurous?  Yes.  But on cold mornings, even if the diving suit is warm, the water can be choppy and the weather stormy, which makes diving less than fun.  (For this info I am indebted to the article "The Things He Sees in New York Harbor," in the Business Section of the New York Times of Sunday, June 17, 2018.)



BROADWAY


         Broadway – that 15-mile thoroughfare that cuts diagonally across the rigid grid of New York City streets (13 miles in Manhattan and 2 in the Bronx) -- is arguably the most famous street in the world.  It has 250 hits on Google, the New York Times informs me, versus a mere 6 million for the Champs-Elysées.  But Broadway is more than a street.  It’s a legend, a state of mind.  The very word “Broadway” – rendering the Dutch Breede Weg-- suggests theater, traffic, congestion, the spirit and bustle and frenzy of a great metropolis.  It is inseparable from New York, and as such it has been immortalized in song: “Give my regards to Broadway / Remember me to Herald Square” (George M. Cohan), for instance, and “I’m just a Broadway baby” (Stephen Sondheim).
Matias Garabedian
         Back in Dutch times, following an old Indian trail, it ran from the Battery, the fort whose cannon failed to keep off the English in 1664, to the wall that gives Wall Street its name.  That wall was meant to shelter the inhabitants from attacks by the native peoples they had come to trade with, and whom they had alienated by their often rough and brutal ways.
         In the eighteenth century Broadway was already the street where everyone met everyone, the main artery of the expanding city.  It witnessed slave revolts, a British occupation during the Revolution, and George Washington’s triumphal entry on what came to be celebrated as Evacuation Day, November 25, 1783, when the British finally left.  With them went 28,000  Loyalist refugees, and the slaves whom the British had freed in the course of the war. 


Broadway and the Bowery, 1831.  Now the site of Union Square.


Broadway, 1834.  No traffic jams as yet.  Trinity Church in the background.
         In the 1830s, when the city was still small enough for everyone to know, or at least know of, everyone, and know where their money came from, Broadway was where the fashionable paraded.  Merchants still lived over their shops, and Broadway was still for much of its length residential, Few people kept carriages, but those who did promenaded on Broadway: Dandy Marx, a dashing young blade whose clothing defied the somber colors of the day; Dandy Cox, a mulatto whose sporty outfit may have been mocking the fashionable gentry of the time; and the mysterious Gentleman George.  George was a handsome young man, the source of his money a mystery.  Above all he was a cause of worry for the mamas, whose daughters were charmed by the sight of him.  Mamas with unmarried daughters welcomed gentlemen callers, but they wanted to know who the young men were and where their money came from.  George never married, and in time he disappeared from Broadway, lost into the city’s growth and expansion, a mystery to the very end.
         By the 1860s the restraint and discretion of the 1830s was gone, disrupted by the influx of Irish and German immigrants, the explosive growth of the city, and the near-instant wealth that came with the Civil War, when local merchants got government contracts, and speculation in gold raged on Wall Street.   Lower Fifth Avenue was now the axis of elegance where, to the discomfort of Old New Money, New New Money was putting up fancy brownstones, which meant that Broadway was now strictly commercial.  Lining it now were barbershops, liquor stores, lottery offices, daguerreotype galleries, artificial teeth manufacturers, sewing machine and piano forte showrooms, plain and fancy jewelers, oyster cellars, clam chowder shops, bookstores, boots and shoes stores, billiard table stores, fancy ice cream parlors, and luxurious gambling dens.  Uniformed doormen waved customers into fancy dry-goods stores and palatial hotels, while on the sidewalk visitors from the provinces gaped at patent sarcophagi in rosewood, mahogany, and iron, satin-lined with silver mountings, and featuring glass-paneled lids to display the face of the deceased.  New Money – and sometimes even Old – wanted to go out in style, its wealth conspicuously displayed.
Broadway, 1860.
         But the sidewalks were nothing, compared to the street itself.  Jamming Broadway by day were red and yellow and blue-painted stages; open and closed carriages with liveried footmen; drays, hacks, and wheelbarrows; milk carts with clattering cans; lager beer wagons; express trucks stacked high with boxes labeled ASTOR HOUSE or ST. NICHOLAS HOTEL; and occasionally a wagon hauled by six horses straining to convey the towering bulk of a safe as big as a house.  Getting across by foot, in that era before stop signs and red lights, was a risk to life and limb, and the traffic noise was deafening, seasoned with shouts, curses, and whinnyings.  As for the unpaved street itself, graced with garbage and manure, it stank.  Which didn’t deter the hogs snuffling about in the garbage for food, or the ragpickers scavenging what they could.
         Change, often radical, was the rule in the never-finished city.  By the mid-1870s buildings on and near Broadway were rising to eight, ten, and eleven stories high, provoking mixed reviews: a new dimension to space, said some; top-heavy horrors and "Towers of Babel," said others.  Broadway had been the first New York City thoroughfare to get gaslight in the mid-1820s, and now it was the first to be lit with electricity.  On December 20, 1880, the whole stretch from 14th to 26th Street was suddenly bathed in Mr. Edison’s brilliant light; observers gaped and raved.  The telephone followed, and then the automobile, though the first recorded traffic fatality occurred in 1899 not on Broadway but at West 74th Street and Central Park West.  And the city’s first stoplight went up in 1916 at its busiest intersection, Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street, which shows that Broadway was no longer the city’s busiest thoroughfare.
Broadway, 1886.

         By the early twentieth century electricity gave the midtown section of Broadway, the section from 42nd to 53rd Street also known as the Theater District, the name "The Great White Way."  The streetlights alone justified it, but the advent of neon signs in Times Square confirmed it.  This is still the Theater District, though most of the theaters are on side streets nearby, and Times Square today, especially at night, is more astonishing than ever.  
         Broadway on the Upper West Side is now a wide avenue with a thin strip of park down the middle.  Back in my student days I loved walking down from Columbia University to some restaurant or movie theater on Broadway, and traipsing it at night always lifted my spirits.  This stretch of Broadway was not constricted by tall buildings as it was downtown; it was big, open, and free -- New York at its best.
         No longer is Broadway the single jammed artery of the city, for traffic flows, and far too often jams up, on other streets as well.  But nowhere does traffic swirl with more intensity than at Columbus Circle.  There, at the intersection of Broadway and West 59th Street, traffic pours in from different directions and surges giddily around Columbus high atop his pedestal.  And nowhere is the magic of New York at night more impressive than at Lincoln Center, close by Broadway between West 60th and 66th Streets, when all the buildings and the fountain in the plaza are illuminated.  Jammed and noisy, Broadway can lead to marvels as well.


The Hamilton Grange today.
Jim.henderson
         A recent article in the Times reminded readers that Broadway is more than the Great White Way and the Battery, using photos to show its wonders  uptown far from the stretches I know best:
·      The Hamilton Grange, at 414 West 141stStreet, the 1802 seat of Alexander Hamilton’s 32-acre country estate, now a small leafy park just east of Broadway.·      A steep flight of stairs at 215th Street, leading up to Inwood Hill Park, 110 steps that I know at one glance I wouldn’t want to climb.·      A replica of the Arc de Triomphe, graffiti-scarred, rising improbably behind a row of stores between West 215th and 218thStreets on Broadway.
         The Arc de Triomphe on Broadway?  Yes, indeed.  Erected in 1855, it was the gateway to a now-vanished 25-acre summer estate of an eccentric descendant of Sir Thomas Drake who had married an heiress.
         And where does Broadway end?  According to my Hagstrom map of Manhattan, at West 225thStreet, where the northern tip of Manhattan meets the Harlem River, beyond which lies the Bronx.  Some hardy souls boast of walking its entire 13-mile length, and this is where they stop.  But Broadway goes on another two miles into the Bronx, and some even see Broadway continuing out of the city into Yonkers and beyond, maybe, like the old Albany Post Road, all the way to Albany.  And maybe, being above all a state of mind, it never ends.  Maybe, like Ol’ Man River, it just goes on and on.
Source note:  This post was inspired in part by an article by Sam Roberts entitled “Broadway Time Machine,” in the Weekend Arts II section of the New York Times of June 15, 2018.
Coming soon:  Kill Days, When One Feels the Need to Kill


BROWDERBOOKS  

All books are available online as indicated, or from the author.
1.   No Place for Normal: New York / Stories from the Most Exciting City in the World  (Mill City Press, 2015).  Winner of the Tenth Annual National Indie Excellence Award for Regional Non-Fiction; first place in the Travel category of the 2015-2016 Reader Views Literary Awards; and Honorable Mention in the Culture category of the Eric Hoffer Book Awards for 2016.  All about anything and everything New York: alcoholics, abortionists, greenmarkets, Occupy Wall Street, the Gay Pride Parade, my mugging in Central Park, peyote visions, and an artist who made art of a blackened human toe.  In her Reader Views review, Sheri Hoyte called it "a delightful treasure chest full of short stories about New York City."
If you love the city (or hate it), this may be the book for you.  An award winner, it sold well at BookCon 2017.
Review 

"If you want wonderful inside tales about New York, this is the book for you.  Cliff Browder has a way with his writing that makes the city I lived in for 40 plus years come alive in a new and delightful way.  A refreshing view on NYC that will not disappoint."  Five-star Amazon customer review by Bill L.
Available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

2.   Bill Hope: His Story  (Anaphora Literary Press, 2017), the second novel in the Metropolis series.  New York City, 1870s: From his cell in the gloomy prison known as the Tombs, young Bill Hope spills out in a torrent of words the story of his career as a pickpocket and shoplifter; his brutal treatment at Sing Sing and escape from another prison in a coffin; his forays into brownstones and polite society; and his sojourn among the “loonies” in a madhouse, from which he emerges to face betrayal and death threats, and possible involvement in a murder.  Driving him throughout is a fierce desire for better, a persistent and undying hope.
For readers who like historical fiction and a fast-moving story.


Reviews
"A real yarn of a story about a lovable pickpocket who gets into trouble and has a great adventure.  A must read."  Five-star Amazon customer review by nicole w brown.
"This was a fun book.  The main character seemed like a cross between Huck Finn and a Charles Dickens character.  I would recommend this."  Four-star LibraryThing review by stephvin.
Available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

3.  Dark Knowledge (Anaphora Literary Press, 2018), the third novel in the Metropolis series.  Adult and young adult.  A fast-moving historical novel about New York City and the slave trade, with the sights and sounds and smells of the waterfront. 
The back cover summary:
New York City, late 1860s.  When young Chris Harmony learns that members of his family may have been involved in the illegal pre-Civil War slave trade, taking slaves from Africa to Cuba, he is appalled.  Determined to learn the truth, he begins an investigation that takes him into a dingy waterfront saloon, musty old maritime records that yield startling secrets, and elegant brownstone parlors that may have been furnished by the trade.  Since those once involved dread exposure, he meets denials and evasions, then threats, and a key witness is murdered.  Chris has vivid fantasies of the suffering slaves on the ships and their savage revolts.  How could seemingly respectable people be involved in so abhorrent a trade, and how did they avoid exposure?  And what price must Chris pay to learn the painful truth and proclaim it?
Reviews

"A lively and entertaining tale.  The writing styles, plot, pace and character development were excellent."  Four-star LibraryThing early review by BridgitDavis.
"At first the plot ... seemed a bit contrived, but I was soon swept up in the tale."  Four-star LibraryThing early review by snash.
"I am glad that I have read this book as it goes into great detail and the presentation is amazing.  The Author obviously knows his stuff."  Four-star LibraryThing early review by Moiser20.
"... I enjoyed reading Dark Knowledge and Clifford Browder definitely managed to recreate the vibe and feel of that era so that I could almost smell the salty sea air and feel myself transported to that period. The characters are very well drawn, and in addition to Chris and Sal, who are fantastic, all of the other family members, former ship captains, etc. also have their own flavor and personalities. Sal is shown to be a smart and capable woman which I appreciated. But most of all, this is Chris’s story and Clifford Browder succeeds in highlighting the horrors of slavery through this book. This is great read!"  Five-star Readers' Favorite review by Gisela Dixon.
New release; available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

4.   The Pleasuring of Men  (Gival Press, 2011), the first novel in the Metropolis series, tells the story of a respectably raised young man who chooses to become a male prostitute in late 1860s New York and falls in love with his most difficult client.

What was the gay scene like in nineteenth-century New York?   Gay romance, if you like, but no porn (I don't do porn).  Women have read it and reviewed it.  (The cover illustration doesn't hurt.)






Reviews
"At times amusing, gritty, heartfelt and a little sexy -- this would make a great summer read."  Four-star Amazon customer review by BobW.
"Really more of a fantasy of a 19th century gay life than any kind of historical representation of the same."  Three-star Goodreads review by Rachel.
"The detail Browder brings to this glimpse into history is only equaled by his writing of credible and interesting characters.  Highly recommended."  Five-star Goodreads review by Nan Hawthorne.

Available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.


©   2018   Clifford Browder

360. BookCon 2018: How I Survived Pop Culture, Bill Clinton, the Grim Reaper, and Grinning Pink-Nosed Trolls.

For my other books, see BROWDERBOOKS below.





A collection of posts from this blog.  Short biographical sketches of people, some remembered and some forgotten, who lived or died in New York.  All kinds of wild stuff, plus some stuff that isn't quite wild but fascinating.  New York is a mecca for hustlers of every kind, some likable and some horrible, but they are never boring.

To be published July 26.  You can order it here from the publisher and get a discounted price (plus postage), but it won't be shipped before that date.  Also available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble, minus the discount but with the delay.  Signed copies are available now from the author (i.e., me) for $20.00 (plus postage, if needed), though in limited numbers.  

SMALL  TALK

 An article in the Science Times section of the New York Times of June 12 talked about how, because of the Y chromosome, men are different -- a subject about which I am vastly ignorant.  It seems that the Y chromosome does a lot more than determine the male body parts or pump more sperm into the adult male.  It helps fight cancer, keeps arteries clear, and blocks plaque buildup in the brain.  So hurrah for Y!  (The X chromosome, of course, makes females female.)  Some other discoveries:

Men aren't evolved cavemen.  Though human DNA contains vestiges of Neanderthals, any trace of the Neanderthal Y chromosome was expelled from the human gene pool long ago.  But, guys, don't throw out your gorilla suit yet.  Our closest living relative is the chimpanzee, but after that, the gorilla.  And our Y chromosome aligns better with a gorilla's than a chimp's.  Female gorillas are mostly monogamous, as are women (with exceptions).  But female chimps are, to put it mildly, wanton, which promotes sperm competition among males.  Ladies (humans, that is), please take note.  Are you more akin to a gorilla or a chimp?
There's lots more to report, but this will do for now.  There's nothing in the article to situate gay people in the X versus Y landscape.  But as one expert observed, X and Y each deserves a novel of its own.  And what an epic read that will be!
BOOKCON  2018
         Once again I and my young friend Silas exhibited on June 2 and 3 at BookCon 2018, the annual book fair at the Javits Center that describes itself as “where storytelling and pop culture collide.”  And what a collision it is!  But no one word or phrase can convey the madness of a two-day book extravaganza attended by some 20,000 people greedy for books, celebrity author book signings, freebies, and every conceivable kind of thingamabob, souvenir, and gewgaw related, or not related, to books.  Think of a trendy bookstore on steroids crossed with a rock concert, throw in Bill Clinton as a newly hatched author, and you begin to get the idea.  And Bill Clinton’s presence on Sunday worried us.  Would the Secret Service be all over the place, hampering the fair?  (Except for the New York stories cover, all photos are by Silas Berkowitz unless otherwise indicated.)

Me at BookCon 2017.  No sign in front, no big bookstand, just candy.           Last year Silas and I were there and over two days sold 26 books, a result that we both thought insufficient.  And a glance at our booth shows how simple, bare, unadorned, and lackluster it was; nothing about it reached out to grab passersby.  Our solution: bright clothes, bright smiles, a big sign hanging in front of the table saying NEW YORK STORIES, a big bookstand holding 12 books, and a sign overhead in back with bold black lettering against a yellow background: BROWDERBOOKS.  Forbidden: frowns, glum looks, frequent absences (i.e., bathroom runs) from the booth.  Also, funny signs and candy, inappropriate for my presumed audience.
Silas and me at BookCon 2018.  My hair is uncombed,
since I left my comb at home.  A charming touch, or messy?
         Also, having learned in 2017 who my readers are, we knew to ignore the hordes of young women, frenzied readers and frenzied buyers, who flock to BookCon by the thousand.  They want romance, sci fi, and fantasy, none of which I perpetrate.  I do historical fiction and nonfiction relating to the mad, crazy, glorious, and impossible city of New York.  So who reads me?  Older women and, to a slightly lesser degree, older men – “older” meaning anyone over 35 and therefore not a millennial.  Last year they bought 26 of my books and hopefully would again.  (Yes, I know, 26 sales is pathetic compared to those of bestselling authors, but I’m playing the small press game, and 26 sales in two days is not to be sniffed at.)  My goal: more than 26 sales, maybe 30, 35, or even 40, though I considered 40 a bit of a stretch.  Not that I would recoup my expenditures for booth and books, but it would “get me out there.”  Getting yourself “out there” is what book promotion is all about, and authors are usually too shy, too timid, too introverted, too scared, or too lazy to do it, unless someone gives them a push.  So I would give myself a push.
         We were in booth 1142 of the BookCon section, where small presses and indie authors – the small fry of the show -- exhibit on the weekend.  We and the other BookCon exhibitors had chosen not to exhibit at BookExpo, the preceding two days that are closed to the public, while the book trade talks to itself.  Arriving at the Javits Center the evening of Friday, June 1, for the move-in, Silas and I agreed that the looming big mass of the Javits Center, at West 34th Street and Eleventh Avenue, is just plain ugly.  Worse still, it was built with huge cost overruns by mob-affiliated contractors.  But the facilities it offers inside are remarkable, and the book fair, being inside, can ignore the weather.  So we delivered our books and other stuff to the booth and departed, hoping for a good night’s rest before the opening at 10 a.m. on Saturday, June 2.


The Javits Center, a big, squat hunk of glass.
Janine and Jim Eden
          When I arrived at the Javits on Saturday about 9:30 a.m., I had a small sign AUTHOR pasted to my shirt, since I’d been told to let attendees know that I was of this special breed.  In the outer lobby I was immediately struck by the long line at the Starbucks.  Then, as I approached the exhibition hall, I saw a huge crowd of mostly young people waiting to get in.  There were hundreds of them jammed together, some of whom had lined up hours before – a seething mass of barely suppressed energy waiting to explode at the 10 a.m. opening of BookCon.
         Once Silas and I had set up our booth, I said a quick hello to some neighbors.  Right next door was Dana Fraedrich, fantasy author, a delightful young woman whom I had corresponded with by e-mail.  Her booth offered far more than books: T-shirts, mugs, assorted gizmos and gewgaws, and a raffle, all of it sure to attract the young BookCon attendees.  We wished each other luck, each promising to send the other any likely buyers who appeared, though our audiences were in fact quite different.
         Suddenly, at 9:50 a.m. – ten minutes before the scheduled opening – we heard a great babble of voices and then, in the big aisles at either end of our aisle, a mob of attendees running in.  “The run of the bulls!” said Silas, mindful of the annual Pamplona event in Spain, but I likened it to a gold rush or land grab.  After the mad front runners, scores of them, came the brisk walkers, then the casual walkers, and at the tail end, stragglers.  But since they had all pre-registered for the various scheduled events, why rush?  To get in the front seats, I assumed, so they could see and almost touch their favorite authors.


Here are the brisk walkers, following the mad runners, as seen from our booth.
         After that smash of an opening, attendees began coming into our aisle.  With great relief we saw that the BookCon section was better located this year, near the entrance; in 2017 it had been located in a remote area near the loading docks, where attendees didn’t show up in numbers for an hour and a half.  And who were these attendees?  As expected, hordes of young women, with some men and older women mixed in.  Almost immediately they began lining up outside Dana Fraedrich’s booth, and would continue to do so off and on all day; she must have been doing a phenomenal business.
         And our booth?  It was a long wait, but not as long as the year before.  You wait and wait and wait, and it does get discouraging.  Then, out of nowhere, they come, and you are immediately re-energized, especially when a sale results.  The sales were one here, two there, the buyers drawn by the sign in front and then by the bookstand, where their eye invariably went first to my self-published nonfiction title, No Place for Normal: New York / Stories from the Most Exciting City in the World.  This was the pattern both that day and the next; the sign and bookstand did a good job of attracting buyers.  “These are all Cliff’s books,” Silas often explained, but then, after saying hello, we remained silent, unless or until the visitors wanted to talk.  But as they scanned the blurbs on the back of the books, we would add, “Buy two, get one free.”  And slowly, we began selling books.



This is the one their eye always went to first.
Bright colors and a bold NEW YORK.
         Meanwhile, strange things were happening in the aisles.  Just as in 2017, some of the attendees seemed more intent on performing than looking at books.  We saw:
·      Book bags with printing: READ BOOKS, BOOKED ALL WEEK, etc.·      Conical black witches’ hats·      Blue Styrofoam cowboy hats·      A girl with a metal spike halo·      A woman in a flaring striped dress with paper streamers inscribed with book-related mottos we were unable to read, and wearing a little box hat with matching stripes·      A woman in a long purple dress that fell like thick drapery·      A young woman in a red dress, with blond hair falling to her waist, accompanied by another woman sporting a tiara and wearing a glitter gown with a train that dragged on the floor (risky, I thought, in that mob of attendees)·      On several occasions, a Grim Reaper in a long black robe, carrying a mean-looking scythe·      Grinning pink-nosed trolls, their heads topped by a pineapple-shaped mass of red


Not the BookCon Reaper, but very similar.
MesserWoland

A grinning troll.  The young woman is posing with him for a photo.
         And our visitors at the booth?  Nothing so wild; whether or not they bought, they were really there for the books.  They had come from New Jersey, Long Island, Rhode Island, Pennsylvania, Idaho, Hawaii, and of course New York.  One from a small town in Rhode Island --  a town too small to appear on maps – said that when she returned from New York, her friends and family told her, “You walk too fast.  You talk too fast.  Calm down.  This isn’t New York.”  We agreed that fast-paced New York was not for everyone.
         Just across the aisle from us was LITTLE BOOK OF YOU, offering baby books to parents.  We got a kick out of seeing parents with young children gravitate to the booth, where the exhibitors at times appeared with their infant, often with the child perched on Daddy’s neck.  And to the right of them was Sartorial Geek, offering trendy clothing to female millennials.  Some of the attendees would pose for a photo inside a frame that said  SARTORIAL above their smiling faces and GEEK below.


Here is LITTLE BOOK OF YOU with the baby, just across from us.
         At the end of the first day, we had sold only 8 books, as compared to 15 the year before.  A downer.  And yet there was a better flow of traffic in our aisle, and our booth was more attractive.   “On Sunday we’ll be lucky to sell six,” I said to Silas, remembering that in 2017 the first day was better.  The book that sold the most: as in 2017, the New York stories.  But there was good news about Sunday: Bill Clinton would be on the floor above us, so on our level the Secret Service would not get in the way.
         The second day was a little less hectic, a little less wild, with no Grim Reaper but still at times the trolls.  While Bill Clinton hawked his wares and his new authorial persona upstairs, downstairs we hawked ours.  In the flow of traffic on our aisle were the usual hordes of female millennials, but also a few people in wheelchairs or walking with canes, bands of young women in head scarves, and several of those fake Buddhist monks one sees offering trinkets on the streets of the city.  Many attendees seemed to be hurrying somewhere and gave not a glance to any of the booths on our aisle.  And a few seemed like lost souls wandering in a labyrinth, heading they knew not where.
         Interesting people began to show up at our booth.  An African-American mother asked me what Bill Hope was about, and when I told her of a street kid turned pickpocket who never robbed ladies or the poor, she was flashed the warmest of smiles, charmed, and bought the book, maybe for her daughter.  A mother accompanied by her thirteen-year-old son bought the New York stories for her niece, having been assured by me that there was no sex or profanity.  She explained that her brother, the niece’s father, was very strict in such matters and would read it himself before letting her have it.  She then had me inscribe the book to the niece, spelling out the girl’s Korean name.  Soon after that a woman came to the booth and, once she heard me mention my love of the city’s history, told me that her husband shared this interest and vigorously waved him over.  He came, read the blurbs with great interest, then took us up on our offer of “Buy two, get one free” and left with all three novels.
         To my and Silas’s surprise, on two occasions a young woman came to us and bought a book.  We were even more surprised when one who had bought the New York stories came back an hour later, said she had started reading it – astonishing, in this milling mob of attendees – and asked if she could have her photo taken with the author.  This is common at BookCon and we were happy to oblige, but it was the first such request for me.
         A boy about ten years old turned up, gave Bill Hope a long, studied look without opening it, departed, then came back ten minutes later, pointed to it, and asked, “How much?”  “Twenty,” I said.  He made a face and immediately left.  Should I have offered it at ten, or asked how much he could afford?  No, it wasn’t meant for children; had he bought it, it might  have frustrated or disappointed him.
         Several buyers paid by credit card, which Silas could handle, but it proved to be a long and complicated process.  Two men who were eager to buy the New York stories tried to pay by credit card, had trouble, finally gave up, and departed.  No sooner had they left, when Silas said, “I’ll give it to them!”  “Go!” I said, and he dashed off.  Moments later he was back to report that he had caught up with them and given them the book; they were surprised and delighted.  His request for the money was in their computer, so he hoped that he’d be paid.  (He was, and quickly.)
         In a quiet moment I took a quick walk down the neighboring aisles.  I saw one first-time exhibitor who confessed that he had brought too many books – a common error of newbies; in the back of his booth I saw a mass of cartons that he had brought by car all the way from Virginia.  And in another aisle I found two more first-time exhibitors sitting quietly in their booths with their books lying flat  on the table.  I knew at a glance that they wouldn’t be doing well; they hadn’t sparked up their exhibit, made it enticing.  To lift their spirits, I bought a book from one of them, even though fantasy and sci fi aren’t my thing.  My good deed was rewarded: the one whose book I bought came to my booth later and bought one of my novels.

         At BookCon 2017 we had had access to a men's room that was palatial in size, well kept up, and never crowded.  But in 2018 we could see another facility from our booth and headed for it when necessary, only to find it hidden behind a curtain that said EXIT, which made us wonder if we'd be out of the exhibition hall and have to re-enter. The steady stream of males in and out reassured us, but behind the curtain was a drab area that shouldn't have been visible in the otherwise well-scrubbed hall, and a small men's room that was likewise drab and crowded.  After that we headed for the more distant one we remembered from BookCon 2017, and in so doing had a glance at the lavish displays of the big presses.

         In the whole two days of the fair, there was only one sour note.  A man came up, took a quick glance at the New York stories, and noted the price printed on the back.           “Why do you sell it for twenty,” he asked, “when the marked price is only fifteen?”           “If you get it on Amazon,” I explained, “you’ll be charged for shipping, so it comes to almost twenty.”           “With Amazon Prime,” he answered, “there’s no charge for shipping.”         “If you can get it cheaper,” I replied, “do it.”         He walked quickly away, and Silas and I agreed that he had no real interest in buying the book.  I charged twenty because it was too complicated to have different prices for different books, but he was the only one who questioned the price.  There’s nothing wrong with bargain hunting, but I sensed in him a certain meanness of spirit that ran counter to the mood of the fair, which is upbeat and joyous.  It was the one sale I was glad not to make.

         Some of the people who came to our booth weren't interested in books -- not in mine, at least.  One wanted us to participate in a survey about what kind of books we read; we participated.  Another announced herself as a "book store manager/aspiring author/book blogger" and left her card.  And an older Jewish man told us about his books on God and the Psalms and likewise left his card.  
         BookCon came to an end at 5 p.m. on Sunday.  Having made 20 sales in two days – far less than I had hoped -- Silas and I joined the departing hordes, toting the unsold books, the rolled up sign, and the bookstand.  Outside, scores of people were hailing yellow cabs, so Silas ordered a taxi from Lyft.  As we waited on the sidewalk, we saw the woman who had bought a book for her niece; she was about to cross Eleventh Avenue with her son.  We waved to her and she waved back, then approached us and said her son wanted a copy of the New York stories, too.  “We have six minutes,” said Silas, knowing exactly when the taxi would arrive.  So he opened his suitcase, poked about, found a copy, and gave it to her, along with a copy of Dark Knowledge (buy two, get one free).  I pocketed her twenty and inscribed the New York stories – not easy, out on the sidewalk -- and we all waved good-bye.  Minutes later the taxi came and we were off.
         Twenty-two books sold in two days, compared with 26 the year before -- disappointing.  This year we had a better location and a more attractive booth, but there simply weren’t enough potential buyers – the older readers who buy my books.  Will I exhibit at BookCon again next year?  Probably not.  Think of those hundreds of female millennials who streamed past our booth without even giving it a glance.  But I will miss the contact with my buyers; they were such an interesting bunch.  And after all, I tell myself, 22 is only 4 short of the 26 I sold in 2017.  And when, a few days later, I corresponded by e-mail with an author in England who told of her repeated frustrations in trying to sell her books, I decided that 22 books in two days wasn't so bad.  Also, for me the Javits Center is only a fifteen-minute taxi ride away; many exhibitors have to ship books long distances, or even drive up from Virginia, and have to lodge in a hotel.  And small fry though I am, I’m now a veteran exhibitor.  So I’ll see how things go at the Brooklyn Book Festival in September, which draws a better mix of attendees, male and female, old and young.  If I can find a good reason to exhibit at BookCon again, I just might change my mind.  Or maybe not.  Or maybe.  But after a strenuous two days, I spent the next three recovering.
Coming soon:  Maybe Broadway, arguably the most famous street in the world.


BROWDERBOOKS  

All books are available online as indicated, or from the author.
1.   No Place for Normal: New York / Stories from the Most Exciting City in the World  (Mill City Press, 2015).  Winner of the Tenth Annual National Indie Excellence Award for Regional Non-Fiction; first place in the Travel category of the 2015-2016 Reader Views Literary Awards; and Honorable Mention in the Culture category of the Eric Hoffer Book Awards for 2016.  All about anything and everything New York: alcoholics, abortionists, greenmarkets, Occupy Wall Street, the Gay Pride Parade, my mugging in Central Park, peyote visions, and an artist who made art of a blackened human toe.  In her Reader Views review, Sheri Hoyte called it "a delightful treasure chest full of short stories about New York City."
If you love the city (or hate it), this may be the book for you.  An award winner, it sold well at BookCon 2017.
Review 
"If you want wonderful inside tales about New York, this is the book for you.  Cliff Browder has a way with his writing that makes the city I lived in for 40 plus years come alive in a new and delightful way. A refreshing view on NYC that will not disappoint."  Five-star Amazon customer review by Bill L.
Available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

2.   Bill Hope: His Story  (Anaphora Literary Press, 2017), the second novel in the Metropolis series.  New York City, 1870s: From his cell in the gloomy prison known as the Tombs, young Bill Hope spills out in a torrent of words the story of his career as a pickpocket and shoplifter; his brutal treatment at Sing Sing and escape from another prison in a coffin; his forays into brownstones and polite society; and his sojourn among the “loonies” in a madhouse, from which he emerges to face betrayal and death threats, and possible involvement in a murder.  Driving him throughout is a fierce desire for better, a persistent and undying hope.
For readers who like historical fiction and a fast-moving story.

Reviews
"A real yarn of a story about a lovable pickpocket who gets into trouble and has a great adventure.  A must read."  Five-star Amazon customer review by nicole w brown.
"This was a fun book.  The main character seemed like a cross between Huck Finn and a Charles Dickens character.  I would recommend this."  Four-star LibraryThing review by stephvin.
Available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

3.  Dark Knowledge (Anaphora Literary Press, 2018), the third novel in the Metropolis series.  Adult and young adult.  A fast-moving historical novel about New York City and the slave trade, with the sights and sounds and smells of the waterfront. 
The back cover summary:

New York City, late 1860s.  When young Chris Harmony learns that members of his family may have been involved in the illegal pre-Civil War slave trade, taking slaves from Africa to Cuba, he is appalled.  Determined to learn the truth, he begins an investigation that takes him into a dingy waterfront saloon, musty old maritime records that yield startling secrets, and elegant brownstone parlors that may have been furnished by the trade.  Since those once involved dread exposure, he meets denials and evasions, then threats, and a key witness is murdered.  Chris has vivid fantasies of the suffering slaves on the ships and their savage revolts.  How could seemingly respectable people be involved in so abhorrent a trade, and how did they avoid exposure?  And what price must Chris pay to learn the painful truth and proclaim it?

Early reviews

"A lively and entertaining tale.  The writing styles, plot, pace and character development were excellent."  Four-star LibraryThing early review by BridgitDavis.
"At first the plot ... seemed a bit contrived, but I was soon swept up in the tale."  Four-star LibraryThing early review by snash.
"I am glad that I have read this book as it goes into great detail and the presentation is amazing.  The Author obviously knows his stuff."  Four-star LibraryThing early review by Moiser20.
New release; available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

4.   The Pleasuring of Men  (Gival Press, 2011), the first novel in the Metropolis series, tells the story of a respectably raised young man who chooses to become a male prostitute in late 1860s New York and falls in love with his most difficult client.

What was the gay scene like in nineteenth-century New York?   Gay romance, if you like, but no porn (I don't do porn).  Women have read it and reviewed it.  (The cover illustration doesn't hurt.)






Reviews
"At times amusing, gritty, heartfelt and a little sexy -- this would make a great summer read."  Four-star Amazon customer review by BobW.
"Really more of a fantasy of a 19th century gay life than any kind of historical representation of the same."  Three-star Goodreads review by Rachel.
"The detail Browder brings to this glimpse into history is only equaled by his writing of credible and interesting characters.  Highly recommended."  Five-star Goodreads review by Nan Hawthorne.

Available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

©   2018   Clifford Browder

359. How I Market My Books

This is a post that I did as a guest author contributing to a blog in the UK about book marketing.  It turns out that book marketing -- and the problems it involves -- aren't so different in the UK.  To see the post as presented in the UK, go here.

                                How I Market My Books
                                   by Clifford Browder

Let me say right off that I’m not a bestselling author with hundreds of book sales to my credit.  I’m a small-press and self-published author who, like most authors today, has to do a lot of self-promotion, even if it goes against the grain.  I’ve never owned a television or a cell phone or (not surprising for a New Yorker) a car, which is probably irrelevant when it comes to marketing my books.  This post is about what does – and doesn’t – work for me.  I speak only for the U.S.; I don’t know how things are in Britain.





An eye-catching title and cover     
A book has to be marketable.  Assuming the content is of value, that means a title and cover to attract buyers, and a blurb on the back cover to hook them.  For my nonfiction I use descriptive subtitles:
No Place for Normal: New York / Stories from the Most Exciting City in the World.
Fascinating New Yorkers / Power Freaks, Mobsters, Liberated Women, Creators, Queers and Crazies
Some authors do this for fiction titles also, but so far I have not.  But when presenting my fiction titles, I always mention that they are part of my Metropolis series of historical fiction set in nineteenth-century New York.  If readers like one of them, they may want to read the others.
         As for cover illustrations, all my small presses have served me well.  But of all my books, the cover that reaches out and grabs people is the self-published collection of posts from my blog cited above: No Place for Normal: New York / Stories from the Most Exciting City in the World.                                                                 The bright colors and the bold words NEW YORK do the trick.  
         Not every cover has to be this striking at a distance; if people come to this book and others are there beside it, they’ll look at the others as well.  Here are covers of two of my novels, both of them attractive when seen up close.

                               













          Bill Hope is the story of a likable street kid turned pickpocket who is in and out of jail four times, escaping once in a coffin.  The cover relates to his confinement in Sing Sing Prison, where he is savagely beaten.  

          Dark Knowledge tells how a young man suspects that some of his family may have been involved in the North Atlantic slave trade.  Appalled, he sets out to learn the truth and encounters lies, evasions, and threats from those who fear exposure.  The cover shows the New York waterfront and, below, a slave ship's interior.  (For more about my books, including reviews and sales links, see the BROWDERBOOKS section at the end of any recent post on my blog, No Place for Normal: New York.)

Know who your readers are
I learned this at book fairs (see below).  The more specific your target audience, the more effective your marketing can be.  For my nonfiction, my readers are older people (i.e., not millennials) who have visited or would like to visit New York and want a literary souvenir of the city.  Also, residents who want to know more about their city, past and present.  A longtime resident, I am a storyteller eager to inform and entertain, to share with others my impressions and reminiscences of life in New York, a city like no other, a city where anything goes. 
         My fiction is historical fiction set in nineteenth-century New York, for which I have done extensive research, using primary sources whenever possible.  The audience, similar in age to that for my nonfiction, is readers who like fast-paced action/ adventure.  Also, schoolteachers, librarians, and parents who want their kids to read something of literary value, with a good bit of history thrown in.
Social media
Authors have to have a presence here.  My blog, No Place for Normal: New York, serves as my website.  Every week I publish a new post dealing with New York City, past and present.  I have a small but faithful following, many of whom buy my books.
         I also have an Author Central page on Amazon that even lists some earlier books now out of print, and a page on Facebook and Goodreads.  But most of my energy goes into the blog.
         What I don’t do, online or off, is advertise.  Advertising works only when repeated endlessly, and this can be expensive.
Pre-publication giveaways
For each of my books I did a series of giveaways on Goodreads, the huge book readers’ website, which made several hundred members aware of my new title.  Each giveaway attracted more people.  And of course I have my own page there, with a listing of the books I’ve read or am currently reading.  One negative: I couldn’t do a giveaway for my most recent title, because Goodreads had no record of it!  Also, Goodreads giveaways used to be free; now they aren’t.  Do I know for sure that these giveaways resulted in sales?  No.  One only hopes.
E-mail lists
Authors must constantly be building a list of e-mail addresses of people who might buy their book.  I started with friends and relations, but that was only a start.  I learned to mention casually to people I met that I’m an author.  If they don’t show an interest, I don’t push it.  But if they ask what kind of books I write, I tell them in a few short words.  That often prompts more questions – about my books and about New York (everyone has an opinion, fiercely good or bad, about New York), in which case I give them my card with my e-mail address and the name of my blog.  If they give me their card or contact me by e-mail, I add their e-mail address to my list.  Surprising sales result.  My dentist buys my books, as does my partner’s doctor.  And a young man I met at a gathering took my card, began following my blog, and is now an avid reader of my novels. 
Media releases
So what do I do with all those e-mail addresses?  Above all, I use them in a media release.  A media release is a way to get the attention of media people who may help promote your book.  At this point I’m not ready to approach the media, so I use media releases to tell people that I have a new book being published, or that I’ll be exhibiting at a book fair.  I start with a catchy title, linked if possible to current events, then a brief statement.  Here is what I’m doing for my most recent book:
This Crowd Can Out-Trump Trump
Clifford Browder’s Fascinating New Yorkers: Power Freaks, Mobsters, Liberated Women, Creators, Queers and Crazies is being released by Black Rose Writing on July 26.







The cover gives a blurred impression of people striding, quite appropriate for New Yorkers, whose pace is notoriously fast.  Then a description of the book: “You think Donald Trump has been giving New York City a bad name?  Wait till you meet this crowd.”  Etc., etc.  A bio follows, then links to where the book can be obtained.  I try to keep the release to one page and end it with ###
         And who does the release go out to?  To the followers of my blog, in case they need a reminder.  And to everyone on my e-mail lists (I in fact have several), including the editors of my high school and college alumni bulletins, which have a Book Shelf page.  Many of the recipients – maybe most – won’t buy the book, but some will, and I may be surprised.  In my release for my historical novel Dark Knowledge, about the slave trade in New York, I included the addresses of some people on the staff of my college whom I knew only through e-mails, and one of them said she would buy the book at once.  Likewise a friend who usually buys and reviews my books, but who in this case needed a nudge.  That’s how it goes: no big orders, just one sale here and one sale there. 
Reviews
You’ve got to get them, and the more the better.  Even bad ones.  It’s hard for new authors to grasp, but better a bad review than no review at all; a bad review at least means that someone has read, or tried to read, your book.  But today, thanks to POD (print on demand), it’s easier than ever to get published; there are lots of small presses filling the gap left by the big U.S. publishers, who are hard for new writers to access.  Also, it’s easy to self-publish.  The result: hundreds of new books every year, competing fiercely for reviews.  The big publications like Publishers’ Weekly and Library Journal are swamped with queries, as are book bloggers who like to review new books.  For me, it’s easier to get published than to get meaningful reviews.  What to do?  Have your publisher offer e-books to readers on LibraryThing in exchange for pre-publication reviews; this has worked quite well for me.  Ask friends and acquaintances who have read your book to do a review, and emphasize that a review can be as short as two or three sentences.  The more reader reviews you have on Amazon and Barnes & Noble, the better.  But don’t be surprised if some of your friends don’t buy any of your books; they haven’t signed a contract to do so.  Some of my friends buy all my books, some buy none, and some by some but not others.  And that is fine by me.
Book fairs

Here is a way to meet your readers and find out who they are.  When I exhibited at the Rainbow Book Fair in 2012, I had just one book to present: my only gay-themed novel, The Pleasuring of Men. 

It’s about about a respectably raised young man who decides to become a male prostitute  servicing the city’s elite, then falls in love with his most difficult client: gay romance.  I only sold a few copies, but I learned who the readers for that book are: older gay men.  Since then the book has been read and reviewed by women; again, be prepared for surprises.  Certainly the cover doesn’t hurt.
         Since that first book fair I’ve exhibited twice at BookCon, the biggest book event in the country, at the Javits Convention Center here in New York.  It’s a two-day book extravaganza where, in its own words, “storytelling collides with pop culture,” and what a collision it is – a book event on steroids.  It primarily attracts young women in their late teens and early twenties who read romance, science fiction, and fantasy – not my genres – and are eager to meet their favorite authors and get them to sign their books.  I went knowing this, hoping to connect with older readers.  At BookCon 2017 I sold 26 books – less than I had hoped – but I confirmed my assumption that my readers are older people – older women (i.e., not millennials) and, to a slightly lesser extent, older men.  To boost sales, I offered “Buy two, get one free,” which some buyers took me up on.
         At BookCon 2018 I knew to dress up my booth with a sign in front, NEW YORK STORIES, telling attendees what kind of books I was offering, and a big bookstand that held twelve books – four copies of three books each. 



I sold only 22 books – again, a disappointment --  but I knew that my booth attracted every potential buyer who happened to come down that aisle.  I met some interesting people, and among the buyers were two young women, one of whom asked to have her photo taken with the author.  Yet again, a surprise.  At BookCon 2017 I had offered free candy, but in 2018 I targeted my older audience not with candy but with smaller signs
A BOOK IS A HOUSE OF GOLD – Chinese proverb
READ, LEARN, EXPLORE
LIFE WOUNDS, BOOKS HEAL
But it was the big sign in front, followed up by the bookstand, that drew people to my booth. 
         Among my neighbors at BookCon 2018 were several first-time exhibitors who had yet to learn how to sell at a book fair.  You can’t just sit quietly at your booth, with your books lying flat on the table; nobody will come to you.  You have to look bright and friendly and make your booth sexy, appealing, exciting.  I and my young assistant had done this, and we’ll do it again when we exhibit at the one-day Brooklyn Book Festival in September, where we’ll get a more typical crowd of New Yorkers, with less emphasis on female millennials. 
         *                *                *                *                *                *

Such are my ways to market my books.  My marketing efforts are a work in progress; I still have a lot to learn.  Book marketing has to be done consistently over a period of years.  You try this, then that, and slowly find what works best for you.  It’s work, but it’s also – sometimes – fun.

How I Market My Books

                                How I Market My Books
                                   by Clifford Browder

Let me say right off that I’m not a bestselling author with hundreds of book sales to my credit.  I’m a small-press and self-published author who, like most authors today, has to do a lot of self-promotion, even if it goes against the grain.  I’ve never owned a television or a cell phone or (not surprising for a New Yorker) a car, which is probably irrelevant when it comes to marketing my books.  This post is about what does – and doesn’t – work for me.  I speak only for the U.S.; I don’t know how things are in Britain.





An eye-catching title and cover     
A book has to be marketable.  Assuming the content is of value, that means a title and cover to attract buyers, and a blurb on the back cover to hook them.  For my nonfiction I use descriptive subtitles:
No Place for Normal: New York / Stories from the Most Exciting City in the World.
Fascinating New Yorkers / Power Freaks, Mobsters, Liberated Women, Creators, Queers and Crazies
Some authors do this for fiction titles also, but so far I have not.  But when presenting my fiction titles, I always mention that they are part of my Metropolis series of historical fiction set in nineteenth-century New York.  If readers like one of them, they may want to read the others.
         As for cover illustrations, all my small presses have served me well.  But of all my books, the cover that reaches out and grabs people is the self-published collection of posts from my blog cited above: No Place for Normal: New York / Stories from the Most Exciting City in the World.                                                                 The bright colors and the bold words NEW YORK do the trick.  
         Not every cover has to be this striking at a distance; if people come to this book and others are there beside it, they’ll look at the others as well.  Here are covers of two of my novels, both of them attractive when seen up close.

                               













          Bill Hope is the story of a likable street kid turned pickpocket who is in and out of jail four times, escaping once in a coffin.  The cover relates to his confinement in Sing Sing Prison, where he is savagely beaten.  

          Dark Knowledge tells how a young man suspects that some of his family may have been involved in the North Atlantic slave trade.  Appalled, he sets out to learn the truth and encounters lies, evasions, and threats from those who fear exposure.  The cover shows the New York waterfront and, below, a slave ship's interior.  (For more about my books, including reviews and sales links, see the BROWDERBOOKS section at the end of any recent post on my blog, No Place for Normal: New York.)

Know who your readers are
I learned this at book fairs (see below).  The more specific your target audience, the more effective your marketing can be.  For my nonfiction, my readers are older people (i.e., not millennials) who have visited or would like to visit New York and want a literary souvenir of the city.  Also, residents who want to know more about their city, past and present.  A longtime resident, I am a storyteller eager to inform and entertain, to share with others my impressions and reminiscences of life in New York, a city like no other, a city where anything goes. 
         My fiction is historical fiction set in nineteenth-century New York, for which I have done extensive research, using primary sources whenever possible.  The audience, similar in age to that for my nonfiction, is readers who like fast-paced action/ adventure.  Also, schoolteachers, librarians, and parents who want their kids to read something of literary value, with a good bit of history thrown in.
Social media
Authors have to have a presence here.  My blog, No Place for Normal: New York, serves as my website.  Every week I publish a new post dealing with New York City, past and present.  I have a small but faithful following, many of whom buy my books.
         I also have an Author Central page on Amazon that even lists some earlier books now out of print, and a page on Facebook and Goodreads.  But most of my energy goes into the blog.
         What I don’t do, online or off, is advertise.  Advertising works only when repeated endlessly, and this can be expensive.
Pre-publication giveaways
For each of my books I did a series of giveaways on Goodreads, the huge book readers’ website, which made several hundred members aware of my new title.  Each giveaway attracted more people.  And of course I have my own page there, with a listing of the books I’ve read or am currently reading.  One negative: I couldn’t do a giveaway for my most recent title, because Goodreads had no record of it!  Also, Goodreads giveaways used to be free; now they aren’t.  Do I know for sure that these giveaways resulted in sales?  No.  One only hopes.
E-mail lists
Authors must constantly be building a list of e-mail addresses of people who might buy their book.  I started with friends and relations, but that was only a start.  I learned to mention casually to people I met that I’m an author.  If they don’t show an interest, I don’t push it.  But if they ask what kind of books I write, I tell them in a few short words.  That often prompts more questions – about my books and about New York (everyone has an opinion, fiercely good or bad, about New York), in which case I give them my card with my e-mail address and the name of my blog.  If they give me their card or contact me by e-mail, I add their e-mail address to my list.  Surprising sales result.  My dentist buys my books, as does my partner’s doctor.  And a young man I met at a gathering took my card, began following my blog, and is now an avid reader of my novels. 
Media releases
So what do I do with all those e-mail addresses?  Above all, I use them in a media release.  A media release is a way to get the attention of media people who may help promote your book.  At this point I’m not ready to approach the media, so I use media releases to tell people that I have a new book being published, or that I’ll be exhibiting at a book fair.  I start with a catchy title, linked if possible to current events, then a brief statement.  Here is what I’m doing for my most recent book:
This Crowd Can Out-Trump Trump
Clifford Browder’s Fascinating New Yorkers: Power Freaks, Mobsters, Liberated Women, Creators, Queers and Crazies is being released by Black Rose Writing on July 26.







The cover gives a blurred impression of people striding, quite appropriate for New Yorkers, whose pace is notoriously fast.  Then a description of the book: “You think Donald Trump has been giving New York City a bad name?  Wait till you meet this crowd.”  Etc., etc.  A bio follows, then links to where the book can be obtained.  I try to keep the release to one page and end it with ###
         And who does the release go out to?  To the followers of my blog, in case they need a reminder.  And to everyone on my e-mail lists (I in fact have several), including the editors of my high school and college alumni bulletins, which have a Book Shelf page.  Many of the recipients – maybe most – won’t buy the book, but some will, and I may be surprised.  In my release for my historical novel Dark Knowledge, about the slave trade in New York, I included the addresses of some people on the staff of my college whom I knew only through e-mails, and one of them said she would buy the book at once.  Likewise a friend who usually buys and reviews my books, but who in this case needed a nudge.  That’s how it goes: no big orders, just one sale here and one sale there. 
Reviews
You’ve got to get them, and the more the better.  Even bad ones.  It’s hard for new authors to grasp, but better a bad review than no review at all; a bad review at least means that someone has read, or tried to read, your book.  But today, thanks to POD (print on demand), it’s easier than ever to get published; there are lots of small presses filling the gap left by the big U.S. publishers, who are hard for new writers to access.  Also, it’s easy to self-publish.  The result: hundreds of new books every year, competing fiercely for reviews.  The big publications like Publishers’ Weekly and Library Journal are swamped with queries, as are book bloggers who like to review new books.  For me, it’s easier to get published than to get meaningful reviews.  What to do?  Have your publisher offer e-books to readers on LibraryThing in exchange for pre-publication reviews; this has worked quite well for me.  Ask friends and acquaintances who have read your book to do a review, and emphasize that a review can be as short as two or three sentences.  The more reader reviews you have on Amazon and Barnes & Noble, the better.  But don’t be surprised if some of your friends don’t buy any of your books; they haven’t signed a contract to do so.  Some of my friends buy all my books, some buy none, and some by some but not others.  And that is fine by me.
Book fairs

Here is a way to meet your readers and find out who they are.  When I exhibited at the Rainbow Book Fair in 2012, I had just one book to present: my only gay-themed novel, The Pleasuring of Men. 

It’s about about a respectably raised young man who decides to become a male prostitute  servicing the city’s elite, then falls in love with his most difficult client: gay romance.  I only sold a few copies, but I learned who the readers for that book are: older gay men.  Since then the book has been read and reviewed by women; again, be prepared for surprises.  Certainly the cover doesn’t hurt.
         Since that first book fair I’ve exhibited twice at BookCon, the biggest book event in the country, at the Javits Convention Center here in New York.  It’s a two-day book extravaganza where, in its own words, “storytelling collides with pop culture,” and what a collision it is – a book event on steroids.  It primarily attracts young women in their late teens and early twenties who read romance, science fiction, and fantasy – not my genres – and are eager to meet their favorite authors and get them to sign their books.  I went knowing this, hoping to connect with older readers.  At BookCon 2017 I sold 26 books – less than I had hoped – but I confirmed my assumption that my readers are older people – older women (i.e., not millennials) and, to a slightly lesser extent, older men.  To boost sales, I offered “Buy two, get one free,” which some buyers took me up on.
         At BookCon 2018 I knew to dress up my booth with a sign in front, NEW YORK STORIES, telling attendees what kind of books I was offering, and a big bookstand that held twelve books – four copies of three books each. 



I sold only 22 books – again, a disappointment --  but I knew that my booth attracted every potential buyer who happened to come down that aisle.  I met some interesting people, and among the buyers were two young women, one of whom asked to have her photo taken with the author.  Yet again, a surprise.  At BookCon 2017 I had offered free candy, but in 2018 I targeted my older audience not with candy but with smaller signs
A BOOK IS A HOUSE OF GOLD – Chinese proverb
READ, LEARN, EXPLORE
LIFE WOUNDS, BOOKS HEAL
But it was the big sign in front, followed up by the bookstand, that drew people to my booth. 
         Among my neighbors at BookCon 2018 were several first-time exhibitors who had yet to learn how to sell at a book fair.  You can’t just sit quietly at your booth, with your books lying flat on the table; nobody will come to you.  You have to look bright and friendly and make your booth sexy, appealing, exciting.  I and my young assistant had done this, and we’ll do it again when we exhibit at the one-day Brooklyn Book Festival in September, where we’ll get a more typical crowd of New Yorkers, with less emphasis on female millennials. 
         *                *                *                *                *                *

Such are my ways to market my books.  My marketing efforts are a work in progress; I still have a lot to learn.  Book marketing has to be done consistently over a period of years.  You try this, then that, and slowly find what works best for you.  It’s work, but it’s also – sometimes – fun.

358. P.T. Barnum: Does He Out-Trump Donald Trump?

For my other books, see BROWDERBOOKS below.





A collection of posts from this blog.  Short biographical sketches of people, some remembered and some forgotten, who lived or died in New York.  All kinds of wild stuff, plus some stuff that isn't quite wild but fascinating.  New York is a mecca for hustlers of every kind, some likable and some horrible, but they are never boring.

To be published July 26.  You can order it here from the publisher and get a discounted price (plus postage), but it won't be shipped before that date.  Also available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble, minus the discount but with the delay.  Signed copies are available now from the author (i.e., me) for $20.00 (plus postage, if needed), though in limited numbers.  


SMALL  TALK


Recently I lunched again at an Indian restaurant on Bleecker Street between Seventh and Sixth Avenues.  Luckily, I got the table by the front window, and since that window had been opened, I felt close to the people passing on the street outside.  Being in a good mood, I thought I'd try the forbidden: to make innocent eye contact with the passersby, well aware that they might think I had a commercial or sexual purpose in mind.  But how could I, when I was inside and they were outside, with many witnesses on hand?  So I smiled benignly at the passing throng.  The result, after doing this for an hour: two contacts.  Most of the passersby were immersed in talk with friends, or involved with their smart phone or tablet, but a few noticed me briefly.  One older woman, passing with her spouse, smiled back, and one young girl, passing with her family, waved to me, and I waved back.  And that was it.  In New York, you don't make innocent eye contact with strangers.  Any attempt to do so implies an ulterior motive.  People assume you want something from them -- something more than a fleeting smile -- are they are on the defensive.  Worse still, they may think you're one of those guys.

But my time at the window wasn't wasted.  When not consuming my chana saag and mango lassi, I could once again view the enterprises on the other side of the street.  Right across Bleecker was the sign Caliente Cab Co., which, as I knew from previous visits, has nothing to do with cabs, as is made clear by a vertical sign below: TEQUILA BAR.  Inside, I could see people lunching and, I'm sure, imbibing.

Just to the left of this came a series of signs: KUMO SUSHI, FISH RESTAURANT / SEA FOOD, and then on an awning, JOHNS OF BLEECKER STREET / since 1929.  This last baffled me, until I finally saw a small neon sign: pizzeria.  So there it is: Mexican, then Japanese, then American, and then Italian/American.  And this while sitting In an Indian restaurant, with a big photo on the wall opposite of a huge elephant with its calf (if that's what young elephants are called).  Once again, the diversity of New York.


P. T.  BARNUM,  THE  PRINCE  OF HUMBUG


         Phineas Taylor Barnum (1810-1891) perfected the gentle art of humbug.  (Humbug, verb: to willfully deceive or trick.)  Born and raised in Connecticut, then a stronghold of strict Protestantism, he was convinced that Americans could be entertained only if the entertainment was presented as serious and educational.  His whole eventful career, much of it based in sinful and fun-loving New York City, was devoted to “educating” the American public -- amusing and hoaxing them -- so as to “put money in my own coffers.”  The saying “There’s a sucker born every minute” has long been attributed to him, but the “Prince of Humbug” probably never said it.  But as regards his coffers, he started early: by age 12 he was peddling molasses candy, gingerbread, and homemade cherry rum.  Not humbug – not yet – but a prime example of what was then called “Yankee push.”


         Some of his most famous shows and humbugs:
·      Joyce Heth, an aged negress, a blind and almost paralyzed slave whom he leased and then presented as George Washington’s nurse, 161 years old, with yellowed documents to prove her authenticity.  In 1836, after being worked 10 to 12 hours a day spinning tales about “dear little George,” she inconvenienced him by dying.  Barnum then had a doctor do an autopsy in a New York saloon and charged admission.  When the autopsy revealed that Heth was only about 80, Barnum claimed that the corpse was a fake, and that the real Joyce Heth was alive and performing elsewhere – a maneuver that maintained public interest in the hoax.  This ethically questionable enterprise launched his career.  (Later he distanced himself from the hoax and even became an abolitionist.)·      The “Egress” in his American Museum in New York.  A sign that read “This way to the egress” encouraged museumgoers to go through a door and exit the museum, so that they had to pay again to enter.  Which may help explain why the museum drew some 4,000 visitors a day, some of them being repeats.·      A wild buffalo hunt in Hoboken, with strong fences to protect the public from the savage beasts, which in fact were quite feeble and docile, and barely capable of movement.·      The Feejee Mermaid, the body of a fish sewn to the head and hands of a monkey, a puny, dried-up thing with two chests and two bellies that by provoking a controversy sparked the interest of the public. ·      General Tom Thumb, a genuine dwarf whom he ballyhooed into an international celebrity and exhibited to Queen Victoria in England and the royal court in France.  Later he had him marry a female midget and sponsored their honeymoon tour.
Barnum and Tom Thumb, circa 1850.·      Jenny Lind, the Swedish coloratura soprano whom he likewise ballyhooed into a celebrity, making the public desperately eager to hear her warbling notes.  The Lind mania was such that items were named for her: women’s hats, opera glasses, paper dolls, sheet music, and even chewing tobacco.  Her nine-month tour in America grossed, in today’s dollars, the astonishing amount of $21 million.  Fictionalized accounts of Barnum’s life have him and Lind at least somewhat in love, but this is fiction; theirs was a business relationship and nothing more.·      His three-ring circus in New York, whose initial lack of a giraffe was explained by a sad tale of feeding one to the lions to keep them alive during the hard voyage across the Atlantic.  ·      200 educated rats that performed amusing tricks in his museum.·      The giant six-ton African elephant Jumbo, which he bought in London in 1881 and brought to this country, to the outrage and dismay of all of England.  Here he advertised it as “The Only Mastodon on Earth,” and advertised it in pictures vastly exaggerating its size.  When Jumbo, touring by rail, was killed by a freight train in Canada, Barnum had the animal stuffed and mounted, and presented his remains, and a female elephant labeled his widow, to the public.
Jumbo.  A sheet music cover, 1882.
         Americans were hardheaded, shrewd, and suspicious, but pseudoscientific explanations could win them over, and Barnum offered plenty of those.  And if one of his hoaxes was exposed, many of the public admired the cleverness of the hoax, noting that Barnum was a very “smart” man, meaning clever to the point of duplicity.  And if controversy resulted, so much the better; it was all part of the show. 
Iranistan
         Always the showman, he created Iranistan, a country estate in Connecticut with a “Moorish” mansion topped by onion-shaped domes, then had an elephant pulling a plow in sight of passenger trains passing on the tracks of a nearby railroad.  Meanwhile he got involved in local politics in Connecticut, promoted minstrel shows, and in 1870, at age 60, went into the circus business, founding P.T. Barnum’s Grand Traveling Museum, Menagerie, Caravan & Hippodrome.  This in time became Barnum & Bailey’s Circus, the “Greatest Show on Earth,” which in later years merged with Ringling Brothers and toured the world, closing its doors only in 2017 because of high operating costs and declining ticket sales.
The Barnum Museum at Broadway and Ann Street, 1855.  Dioramas, panoramas, scientific instruments, a flea circus, the Feejee Mermaid, the Siamese Twins, trained bears, freaks, a rifle range, glass blowers, waxworks, an oyster bar, and magicians, and all for twenty-five cents.
         Barnum had a colorful career with many ups and downs, including defecating animals; a fat boy who lost weight; fires that reduced Iranistan and his museums to ashes; near bankruptcy; and a train wreck that killed 33 horses and 2 camels.  Not to mention occasional exposures.  “Some skunk,” he wrote a colleague, “saw the Mermaid box on the top shelf in my office, so that’s been tattled out.”  Ever resourceful, he survived every setback and went on to even greater displays that would “kill the public dead.”  His autobiography, first published in 1854, became a bestseller; by the end of the century, its North American sales were surpassed only by the New Testament.  Also of interest is his 1880 book, The Art of Money-Getting, which to my ear has a distinctly contemporary ring. 
         Other tidbits from his life:
·      Before becoming a showman, in his early years in Connecticut he was in turn a peddler, clerk, porter house keeper, village store proprietor, country newspaper editor, boarding house keeper, and lottery operator.·      An impoverished country boy, he helped a cattle drover drive a herd of cattle to New York and immediately saw the vast prospects for making money that the city offered.  In time, New York would become his base for the rest of his money-making life.·      He published a newspaper, the Herald of Freedom, and spent 60 days in jail in Danbury, Connecticut, when convicted of libel.  There he decorated his cell, continued to publish his paper, and at his release threw a party and parade to celebrate.·      To present his circus, he created the 10,000-seat New York Hippodrome, which opened in 1874.  He had his office there until his death in 1891.  Its later name: Madison Square Garden.·      He is said to have had correspondence with Mark Twain, Cornelius Vanderbilt, Queen Victoria (to whom he presented Tom Thumb), Abraham Lincoln (at least he voted for him), Ulysses Grant, and Thomas Edison, who recorded his voice.
         If I have lingered over Barnum, it’s because he raised the art of humbugging to a new level and made a fortune – in fact, several – in the process.  He claimed to educate and edify, but mostly he was letting his audience have a vast amount of fun.  Which, in Victorian times, was no small feat.  And he’s still with us today.  A film entitled “The Greatest Showman” opened last winter and gave a splashy version of his career. Simultaneously, a cartoon in the Times of December 20, 2017, showed Barnum gesturing grandly toward THE GREATEST HUMBUG OF THEM ALL, whose face was unmistakably that of the present occupant of the White House.  And right below the cartoon was a column by history professor Stephen Mihm with the caption No, Trump Is Not P.T. Barnum. 
         So what does Professor Mihm profess?  First, he grants that there are certain similarities:
·      A willingness to bend the truth.·      Artful manipulation of the press.·      Self-promotion.·      Tremendous energy.·      Hyperbole.·      A fondness for living large (Iranistan, Mar-a-Lago).·      Bankruptcy, followed by recovery.
         But there the similarities end.  Unlike Trump, Barnum was a devoted husband, and a scrupulous businessman who paid his debts in full and on time, and worked hard and made personal sacrifices to get out of bankruptcy.  Visitors to his exhibits might dispute their authenticity, Barnum argued, but rarely felt shortchanged or cheated.  Though he shared the casual racism of his time and profited from it, he became a progressive who voted for Lincoln in 1860 and advocated voting rights for blacks.  If Barnum were alive today, Professor Mihm suggests, he would want to exhibit the Donald as an extreme embodiment of humbug – worthy of a sideshow, but nothing more.  My conclusion: Barnum doesn't out-Trump the Donald; he played a different and more responsible game.

Coming soon: BookCon 2018: How I Survived Pop Culture, Bill Clinton, the Grim Reaper, and Grinning Pink-Nosed Trolls.



BROWDERBOOKS  

All books are available online as indicated, or from the author.
1.   No Place for Normal: New York / Stories from the Most Exciting City in the World  (Mill City Press, 2015).  Winner of the Tenth Annual National Indie Excellence Award for Regional Non-Fiction; first place in the Travel category of the 2015-2016 Reader Views Literary Awards; and Honorable Mention in the Culture category of the Eric Hoffer Book Awards for 2016.  All about anything and everything New York: alcoholics, abortionists, greenmarkets, Occupy Wall Street, the Gay Pride Parade, my mugging in Central Park, peyote visions, and an artist who made art of a blackened human toe.  In her Reader Views review, Sheri Hoyte called it "a delightful treasure chest full of short stories about New York City."
If you love the city (or hate it), this may be the book for you.  An award winner, it sold well at BookCon 2017.
Review 

"If you want wonderful inside tales about New York, this is the book for you.  Cliff Browder has a way with his writing that makes the city I lived in for 40 plus years come alive in a new and delightful way. A refreshing view on NYC that will not disappoint."  Five-star Amazon customer review by Bill L.
Available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

2.   Bill Hope: His Story  (Anaphora Literary Press, 2017), the second novel in the Metropolis series.  New York City, 1870s: From his cell in the gloomy prison known as the Tombs, young Bill Hope spills out in a torrent of words the story of his career as a pickpocket and shoplifter; his brutal treatment at Sing Sing and escape from another prison in a coffin; his forays into brownstones and polite society; and his sojourn among the “loonies” in a madhouse, from which he emerges to face betrayal and death threats, and possible involvement in a murder.  Driving him throughout is a fierce desire for better, a persistent and undying hope.
For readers who like historical fiction and a fast-moving story.

Reviews
"A real yarn of a story about a lovable pickpocket who gets into trouble and has a great adventure.  A must read."  Five-star Amazon customer review by nicole w brown.
"This was a fun book.  The main character seemed like a cross between Huck Finn and a Charles Dickens character.  I would recommend this."  Four-star LibraryThing review by stephvin.
Available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

3.  Dark Knowledge (Anaphora Literary Press, 2018), the third novel in the Metropolis series.  Adult and young adult.  A fast-moving historical novel about New York City and the slave trade, with the sights and sounds and smells of the waterfront. 
The back cover summary:

New York City, late 1860s.  When young Chris Harmony learns that members of his family may have been involved in the illegal pre-Civil War slave trade, taking slaves from Africa to Cuba, he is appalled.  Determined to learn the truth, he begins an investigation that takes him into a dingy waterfront saloon, musty old maritime records that yield startling secrets, and elegant brownstone parlors that may have been furnished by the trade.  Since those once involved dread exposure, he meets denials and evasions, then threats, and a key witness is murdered.  Chris has vivid fantasies of the suffering slaves on the ships and their savage revolts.  How could seemingly respectable people be involved in so abhorrent a trade, and how did they avoid exposure?  And what price must Chris pay to learn the painful truth and proclaim it?
Early reviews

"A lively and entertaining tale.  The writing styles, plot, pace and character development were excellent."  Four-star LibraryThing early review by BridgitDavis.
"At first the plot ... seemed a bit contrived, but I was soon swept up in the tale."  Four-star LibraryThing early review by snash.
"I am glad that I have read this book as it goes into great detail and the presentation is amazing.  The Author obviously knows his stuff."  Four-star LibraryThing early review by Moiser20.
New release; available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.


4.   The Pleasuring of Men  (Gival Press, 2011), the first novel in the Metropolis series, tells the story of a respectably raised young man who chooses to become a male prostitute in late 1860s New York and falls in love with his most difficult client.

What was the gay scene like in nineteenth-century New York?   Gay romance, if you like, but no porn (I don't do porn).  Women have read it and reviewed it.  (The cover illustration doesn't hurt.)






Reviews
"At times amusing, gritty, heartfelt and a little sexy -- this would make a great summer read."  Four-star Amazon customer review by BobW.
"Really more of a fantasy of a 19th century gay life than any kind of historical representation of the same."  Three-star Goodreads review by Rachel.
"The detail Browder brings to this glimpse into history is only equaled by his writing of credible and interesting characters.  Highly recommended."  Five-star Goodreads review by Nan Hawthorne.

Available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.


©   2018   Clifford Browder