DEAD FOR A GYM BAG AND SOME DEODORANT

OESTERHOUDT STRIKES

Two days ago, a Manhattan lawyer dropped her gym bag onto subway tracks on the Upper East Side. She leaped down to fetch it. She had difficulty getting back onto the platform, then she panicked as a train came rushing into the station. Horrified witnesses froze. Some told her to lay between the rails so the train would pass over her. Most said nothing and just watched. The lawyer tried to press herself against the platform wall so the train would pass her. It didn't; the train squashed her.

Later, officials reported that the gym bag contained keys, a cellphone, gym clothes and some deodorant. See N.Y. Post, Panic on tracks doomed subway victim, March 13, 2010 at p. 5. It did not contain priceless diamonds or even confidential client files. There was absolutely no need to risk life to save it.

I recount this sad story because it represents yet another occasion on which my writing has foretold true events. Just last month, I penned a satire called "Some People are More Valuable Than Things They Drop on the Tracks." See http://reasoncommercejustice.blogspot.com/2010/02/some-people-are-more-valuable-than_01.html. In that piece, I analyzed the New York Transit System's admonishment never to chase dropped property onto subway tracks. I used satire to show that our society places disproportionate weight on property over human life. At the same time, I made my own perspective clear: That it is grotesque to assign monetary value to individual lives. Still, my own sarcasm now seems eerily macabre in light of this new incident: "Further, I understand that some customers might disregard their own safety if they drop something onto the tracks, such as an iPod or other relatively expensive object;" and "The bottom line is: Property is worth more than individual human beings."

I was trying to elicit uncomfortable laughter when I wrote those words. Anyone with a shred of compassion understands that property is petty compared to human life. Yet at the same time, it is incontestable that property wields immense influence over both our society and individual perspectives. All too often, property seems to mean more than life itself. My satire reflected on that sad truth. It dared to suggest that life was more important. Privately, I held out hope that people would respect their lives more than their property.

But my hopes fell on deaf ears. The Post story shows just how much property means to people, even in very small amounts. Here was a woman with a career--and ostensibly, something to live for--who disregarded her life to save some deodorant and gym clothes. Her property was more important to her than her existence. So she jumped after it, even as a train raced toward her. At that moment, she thought herself less valuable than her gym bag.

Perhaps there are alternative explanations. I can think of several. For starters, the Post article recounts that the victim was a "lawyer" who--according to neighbors--used to wander hallways and elevators in her apartment building "muttering to herself in a strange way." See N.Y. Post, Panic on tracks doomed subway victim, March 13, 2010 at p. 5. One neighbor even said she looked "distressed" and that she was "not 100 percent there."

Many functioning lawyers have latent mental problems. When I practiced law, I knew many "well-respected" attorneys who muttered to themselves in elevators, sighed loudly, grumbled in abject frustration and habitually balled their fists from stress. It is not an easy job. "Getting results" in court is not an exact science; in fact, it is not a science at all. There are no sure things in law practice. Lawyers live with biting uncertainty and deadlines every day. They live on a razor's edge; and they are surrounded by striving, ambitious, ruthless people at every turn. They make their living battling contentious people for money. It is an extraordinarily negative enterprise. Their success depends on chance as much as preparation. Everyone wants something from them: Clients, bosses, judges. Everyone wants results now and no one wants to wait. There is never enough time; and there is always something else to do. They live under the clock; and the clock does not forgive. In fact, no one forgives. It is a fretful, ulcerous existence. That is why it is no wonder that lawyers fall into alcoholism, drug abuse and mental illness at a far greater rate than the general population.

Lawyers on schedules are dangerously unpredictable creatures. You don't want to get in their way; they might do something impulsive. When they have somewhere to be, they get there at all costs, even if it means taking absurd chances with their own lives. I own recalled my uncomfortable days in law practice when I read the Post article. I remembered what stressed-out lawyers are like. My memories helped me understand why this poor woman jumped on the tracks: She was in a hurry; she was trying to squeeze in the gym during her busy day; she did not want to wait for help to get her bag because that would throw off her schedule; if she got behind schedule, she would have to make unpleasant phone calls to disappointed superiors; she wanted to get home before 9 PM; if she waited for help to get her bag, she would never finish her day; and she really wanted to finish her day on time.

On an impulse, she jumped onto the tracks. She did not want to wait. She did not want to make those phone calls. She did not want to fall behind schedule. So she took matters into her own hands and died for deodorant.

I am glad I don't practice law anymore. And no matter how much my satires presage reality, it really saddens me when they do. I am not proud of it.

In the end, it's hard to exaggerate anything to satirical effect. Reality always sees your bet, no matter how high you make it.

SOME PEOPLE ARE MORE VALUABLE THAN THINGS THEY DROP ON THE TRACKS

A LETTER FROM A CONCERNED CITIZEN TO THE COMMISSIONER OF THE METROPOLITAN TRANSPORTATION AUTHORITY (MTA)

By : Mrs. Zelda B. Wertheimer, Wife of Joseph G. Wertheimer, Founder, Wertheimer Industrial Plastics & Enamels Co., Inc. Owner, 2500 Acres assorted real estate in four countries; Resident, 237 Park Avenue, New York, NY; Member, Director's Guild, Metropolitan Museum of Art.

February 1, 2010

Dear Sir,

As a New Yorker and a humanitarian, I wish to complain about several new print advertisements you recently published around the metropolitan area. Although your safety advisements and commercial messages rarely arouse my indignation, your recent admonishment to subway riders: "Whatever falls on the tracks is not as valuable as you" is simply shocking. I speak for all New Yorkers when I say that your message is offensive.

I understand that the MTA wishes to protect its customers from train accidents. I also understand that train accidents are more likely when customers step off the platform onto the tracks. Further, I understand that some customers might disregard their own safety if they drop something onto the tracks, such as an iPod or other relatively expensive object. The MTA has a right to warn people not to risk their lives to save a piece of personal property. Additionally, the MTA has an interest in avoiding litigation arising from train/customer collisions.

I do not dispute the MTA's financial reasoning in this matter: No one likes lawsuits and no one likes paying money when they don't have to. But there are other considerations in the world. It might be prudent and even financially advisable to publish a poster warning people not to enter the subway tracks. Still, the MTA's message in this case is both philosophically unsound and in poor taste. In the name of decency and community values, I insist that the MTA remove these posters at once.

It is wrong for the MTA to suggest that "whatever falls on the tracks is not as valuable" as the person who dropped it. Although the MTA might think that its message esteems human equality and the importance of life over property, it is philosophically unsound because there are so many applications in which the message is not true. Popularly, people might believe that no object is worth more than a human life. But experience reveals that this is rubbish. Put simply, value depends on a comparison between how much the object is worth and how much the person is worth. No matter what our mothers told us when we were children, people's value can be expressed in dollar amounts. Insurance companies tell us how much we are worth all the time. Our portfolios define our monetary values. Courts tell loved ones how much their deceased family members "would have made" if they had lived. In a word, people are worth a number: And if the object they drop on the tracks is worth more than that number, then the MTA's "human value" message is totally untrue.

Consider the principle in action. Let us say that an impecunious, smelly beggar has a $40 faux diamond ring in his pocket. Let us further say that this beggar has no money, no savings, no real estate, no bonds, no stocks, no accounts, no chattel paper and no right to receive payment from any investment. He has no job; no one wants to be in a room with him, let alone hire him. In a word, this hideous, stinking beggar is literally not worth a cent. His "value" is zero. In these circumstances, if he drops the $40 ring on the tracks, he is actually less valuable than the object he dropped. If a train runs him over as he scampers to recover the ring, the MTA's "message" does not apply: The object he dropped was actually more valuable than he was: A $40 faux diamond ring is worth more than a $0 beggar. A third-grader could do the math on it.

Of course, that is a simple example. Most people are worth more than a beggar. But again, it is difficult to calculate human value. After all, a fresh-faced 30-year-old graduate with $150,000 in education debt is actually worth less than a $0 beggar even if the graduate has $4000 in the bank and a $10,000 stock fund. In that situation, appearances are misleading. Debt negatively impacts worth. Thus, the graduate is actually worth -$136,000. In this situation, if the graduate dropped even a quarter on the tracks, he would be worth $135,999.25 less than the object he dropped. Once again, the MTA's reasoning fails completely: A debt-riddled person is worth much less than even a modest object on the tracks. Any "positive" value is greater than any "negative" value: And debtors are "negative values."

I find it tasteless for the MTA to suggest that human beings are intrinsically more valuable than property. As the above examples illustrate, property is in many cases much more valuable than people. Many people will disagree with that assertion. But experience proves it true. A beggar's life is nothing compared to a $4,000,000 townhome, just as a debt-riddled graduate is nothing compared to a custom car. And what about criminals? Does the MTA suggest that a convicted rapist is somehow more valuable than an original Van Gogh? If a criminal dropped a Van Gogh on the tracks, does it honestly contend that the criminal is "more valuable" than this classic object of Western Art? I should certainly hope not. The bottom line is: Property is worth more than individual human beings.

But not always. When wealthy people hold comparatively less valuable objects, then people are more valuable than property. For example, if I were standing on a subway platform and I dropped my iPod on the tracks, I should refrain from scurrying after it because I am worth much, much more than the $250 iPod. I have extensive savings, accounts, real estate holdings and cash. My assets greatly exceed my debts. My net worth, therefore, is considerably higher than the object I dropped, so in this case the MTA's message is true: I am worth more than my iPod, so why risk myself to fetch it?

Still, these inconsistent results provide further proof that the MTA's message is incorrect. Messages must be philosophically sound. They must apply consistently no matter the subject matter. Yet even a cursory glance at the MTA's message here shows that it does not apply in many situations.

Finally, I find it utterly tasteless that the MTA believes in life over property. It is hypocritical for any governmental institution in this country to assert that human beings are worth more than valuable objects or land. We do not live in this country to spiritually enrich our fellow men; we live in this country to amass more property. There is simply no merit to the contention that life is about human worth. Simple commercial experience contradicts that contention at every turn. Men only have "worth" to the extent that they can expend labor and capital to amass even more property. Beyond that, there is no "intrinsic worth" in men worth protecting.

Legal doctrines and public messages that advocate life over property are indefensible. It makes no sense to sing odes to human life, as the common law does when it says that it is never permissible to kill someone to guard property. This is just ludicrous. If a person worth $0 tries to steal my art collection worth $45,000, there is no debate about which one is more valuable. What incentive would enterprising people have to amass property if they could not defend it against those without it?

Additionally, the law sends completely mixed messages in this regard. If it is so wrong to kill someone to protect property, why does the law not hesitate to heap supplementary punishments on thieves depending on the value of the objects they steal? Does that not show that our society finds it more wrong to steal something worth more than to steal something worth little?

Put simply, we put dollar amounts on both people and things in our society. Some things--and some people--are worth more than others. In that sense, the MTA grossly misunderstands what is really important in life. It is both philosophically unsound and tasteless for the MTA to suggest that all life is more valuable than all property.

Mr. Commissioner, I demand that you remove these hypocritical messages from our streets. It is time to educate our citizens about real worth, not delude them with foolishness about equality.

Yours very sincerely and truly,

Mrs. Zelda B. Wertheimer

LEARNING SOCIAL REALITY THROUGH THE NEW YORK SUBWAY SYSTEM

A REFLECTION

I first moved to New York in 1996. Almost at once, I fell in love with the subway system. I loved the idea that you could get virtually anywhere in town from anywhere else in town. At first, I struggled to learn all the color-coded lines and their destinations. I did not dare to leave Manhattan. As an 18-year-old whipper snapper at Columbia University, I was told that going above 120th Street would get you killed. So would going to Brooklyn, The Bronx or Queens. Not coincidentally, Columbia seemed to insulate itself from the "natives" outside by demarcating its property with massive stone walls studded with guarded steel gates.

In hindsight, the racial implications inherent in this "advice" seem both shocking and absurd. Yet as a freshman in New York, I believed that the city was a "dangerous place." That contributed to its magical charm, at least for me. In 1996, Giuliani had only been in power for two years. New York still seemed thrillingly nasty compared to my sleepy suburban homestead in Connecticut. I gobbled it up. For me, riding the subway was like a second university education. I learned New York by riding the trains--and by watching the people on them.

It took me a while to escape the xenophobic prejudices we learned during Orientation Week at Columbia. But I remember one day before Christmas Break in December 1996 I decided to "risk my life" by riding the "N" train beyond Manhattan. I rode all the way to Coney Island.

It was a dark, forbidding winter night. I sat alone in the car, gazing wide-eyed at the passing stations. Very few people boarded or left the train. I kept thinking: "OK, I haven't been mugged yet; and I'm tough because I'm in Brooklyn now!" Then the train popped above ground. It was the first time I had ever been on a subway with elevated tracks. Many New York lines run above ground, but this was my "first time" on an El. At this point, I felt pretty cool. I just looked out over the Brooklyn night with Manhattan glittering in the distance. Yet at the same time, I felt as if danger could strike at any moment. That was what I loved about New York: I relished it because it was so smelly, so nasty, so abnormal, so dangerous, so unlike everything I had been raised in. But that's what made it beautiful.

I made it all the way to Coney Island without dying. No one even threatened to kill me. After I got there, I walked around the decaying train station near the shuttered amusement park. I felt like I had stepped back into the movie "Once Upon a Time in America." I suddenly remembered a scene from that movie in which the young gangsters locked a treasure in a strongbox on Coney Island. The storefronts looked like they hadn't been renovated since the 1920s. I went to a little fudge shop in the station and bought a big block of vanilla fudge for $1.00. "How cool is this?" I thought. The station smelled like urine mixed with disinfectant. After about 25 minutes, I got back on the train and headed back to Manhattan.

I survived Brooklyn. I was a New York veteran now, unlike all those cowards who stayed holed up in their Columbia dorm rooms.

Within 90 minutes, of course, I was holed up in my Columbia dorm room.

I recount this story because it was an early voyage in my lifelong love affair with New York and its subways. Over the years, I ventured out into the city more and more. I wanted to see all the places that tourists didn't see. I wanted to see the "most dangerous" parts of town, not the prettiest ones. I rode the trains for 8 hours at a time, stopping to take walks along the way. Eventually, I started bringing a camera on my trips. I snapped hundreds of shots. Thankfully, I still have them all. It's only been a decade since I took those pictures. Yet the New York in those pictures no longer exists. Things change fast around here, even without terrorist attacks.

I don't take pictures around town anymore. But I still know the subway system inside and out. I even know its history. The subway system has evolved over time, just like America's economic system. When the first subway opened in 1904, it was a private enterprise. The city had nothing to do with it. A private corporation called "Interborough Rapid Transit Co." (the "IRT") built all the lines and stations that now bear "numbers" rather than "letters." Back in those days, they referred to the train by the line it traveled. For example, it wasn't the "1 Train;" it was "The IRT Broadway/7th Avenue Local." It wasn't the "4 Train;" it was "The IRT Lexington Avenue Express/Jerome Avenue Line." Now, if I need to ride uptown on the West Side, I joke with my friends that I'm "taking the IRT." I like old stuff.

Hundreds of immigrants died building IRT tunnels and structures. The IRT opened during the golden age of capitalism; and the IRT got the job done. But true to capitalism's spirit, the IRT soon faced a private competitor: Brooklyn Mass Transit Co. (the "BMT"). The BMT built numerous lines throughout Brooklyn and Queens, siphoning off riders from the IRT. Price wars ensued.

With the Great Depression, however, the private companies could not continue operating without government aid. The city increasingly subsidized the IRT and BMT. In the mid-1930s, with New Deal funding, it even opened up its own subway system: The "Independent Subway" (the "IND"). Soon thereafter, the private subway companies folded. By the 1940s, the city took over from the private companies and began running their systems. In the case of New York City subways, capitalism did not work. The government took over, and--truth be told--it has done a very good job managing mass transit.

In a way, the fall of private subways in New York mirrors the New Deal that swept the country under FDR. Government got involved for the better. And it proved that government solutions sometimes work very well, despite all the whining from free market apologists. The sky did not fall when the city took over the subway system. Nor did it fall when government began regulating the securities markets.

Today, you can still learn a lot by riding around on the New York subway. You can see social reality at work, along with all the maddening inequality that comes with life in a big American city. New York--like America--is splintered along economic, ethnic and social lines. Blacks live in poor neighborhoods in the Outer Boroughs; affluent whites live in premiere Manhattan areas. Yet every neighborhood has a subway station. You can tell whether you're in a rich neighborhood by looking at the station and how many people get on the train. Stations with lots of paying riders get overhauls. They get new stairways, new elevators, new tiling, new lighting and new tracks. But poor stations with few paying riders rot away; they look like they are caught in a time warp. You know the neighborhood is bad when there are crumbling platform edges, decrepit columns, bad signs, dingy light fixtures and a bad PA system. This is classic American inequality. And it's all right there to see on the New York subway.

I also discovered that the MTA (Metropolitan Transit Authority) publishes a "Ridership Table" detailing how many riders patronize each of the system's 468 stations. A quick glance at the figures confirms the inequality that simple observation reveals when traveling over the rails in New York. You can also see who lives where, and why some stations have many more paying riders than others. By studying these numbers, you can see demographic shifts at work. See http://www.mta.info/nyct/facts/ridership/ridership_sub_07.htm.

Consider the BMT Canarsie Line, AKA the "L Train." This train runs along 14th Street in Manhattan, then goes under the East River and into Brooklyn. Right across the river is a neighborhood called Williamsburg. The "L Train" conveniently stops right in the heart of the neighborhood at a station called "Bedford Avenue." Until the 1990s, Williamsburg was a largely Hispanic, working class district with a significant industrial base. As rents in Manhattan increased under Giuliani, however, many white Bohemians and young professionals fled across the river. They settled in Williamsburg. In the last 15 years, rents in Williamsburg have ballooned beyond all recognition. It is a "hip" and "trendy" place to be. Wine bars and vintage clothing shops have displaced textile factories. The MTA's ridership report confirms this demographic shift. In 2007, more than 5,600,000 people boarded trains at Bedford Avenue, far more than any other station along the "L Line" in Brooklyn.

Williamsburg's well-paid colonists can afford the fare. That explains why residents further along the "L Line" do not use stations nearly as much as those around Bedford Avenue. The "L Line" travels deep into Brooklyn and its allegedly "bad neighborhoods" like East New York and Brownsville. Leaving aside the question whether these neighborhoods are "bad," the MTA Ridership Report shows one thing: Not many people use the subway in these neighborhoods compared to the folks in Williamsburg. Consider the dilapidated "L Train" station at Bushwick Avenue-Aberdeen Street. Here, only 315,000 people boarded trains in 2007, even though it's only a short hop from Williamsburg.

Why the discrepancy? Simple: New York neighborhoods are segregated. Five and half million people could pay $2.00 a ride at Bedford Avenue in 2007, yet only 315,000 could do so at Bushwick Avenue. Two dollars might seem insigificant, but for people in Brownsville, it's a considerable expense. Other factors explain the discrepancy, too. Many people ride the subway to get to and from work every day. In Brownsville, unemployment is extremely high; there is no need for unemployed people to ride the train into the city. No one used the Bushwick Avenue station in 2007 because most people in the area are so poor that they could not afford the (then) $2.00 fare and because they had no jobs requiring subway transit. It is an economically depressed area. It is also largely African-American, and the crime rate is much higher than in more prosperous districts.

Just ride the New York subway and study ridership data to understand social realities in New York. Overall, New York is an extremely wealthy city. It generates phenomenal wealth. Rents in Manhattan are dizzyingly high. Yet just a few yards from luxury condos stand destitute housing projects teeming with unemployed, desperate people. You do not even have to go above ground to know that there are haves and have-nots in New York. Just ride a subway line and note the crumbling stations where no one seems to be waiting for a train. Then look at the ridership report and put the pieces together for yourself.

We hear that the gap between rich and poor is growing in this country. In New York, it has been obvious for a very long time. I saw it the moment I started riding trains around town. And it's only getting worse.