It’s always interesting to watch the migration of businesses around the East End. Some switch from the North Fork to the South for various reasons. Some do the reverse. And some go biforkal.
One that made a move from South to North is The Clearing House eXchange, the big consignment shop that came up from Southampton three years ago. Co-owner Victoria Collett told me the other day that the move was based on a desire to expand, but also on the differing attitudes North and South. “There’s a perception of the Hamptons that you overpay for what you buy,” she said. “That’s not the case in our store, but there isn’t that perception on the North Fork.”
The move has been a success, according to Collett. The store’s fans have had no trouble adjusting to the new site, many regulars devotedly making the trip up from the Hamptons.
Meanwhile, Love Lane Kitchen is poised to go biforkal. In its three short years, the Mattituck restaurant has become a central part of the North Fork scene. Based on its success, it’s now adding a second location at Poxabogue Golf Course in Wainscott.
“We’ve found a niche,” owner Mike Avella told me. “High-quality casual food with good value at reasonable prices, with a focus on local produce all prepared fresh.”
Reviewers tend to apply descriptions like “cute,” “quaint,” “adorable” and “like you’ve stepped onto the set of a ’50s TV show.” But the wording gets more serious on the subject of the food, which includes all kinds of interesting creations, from a Kobe beef hot dog to duck tagine, served in a domed Moroccan cooking vessel. They even do their own coffee roasting.
There’s an easy way to tell if the Kitchen is for real: Just cook up a Great Recession and then check its receipts. “Whether we’re just hitting our stride or for whatever reason, we’re up a lot this year – 24 percent,” Avella said. Even he considers it “unexpected” in the midst of “a tough year” that’s seen other restaurants closing.
One of those getting out is Dan Murray of Danny’s Poxabogue Café, a breakfast/lunch institution at the golf course. After encountering some lease disputes with the landlords (Southampton and East Hampton towns), he’s moving on and Love Lane Kitchen is moving in. Avella’s thinking went as follows: “The opportunity came along; we’ve got a concept that’s worked – we’ll do it.”
The rent is double what he’s paying in Mattituck (“at the upper limit of what I think is reasonable”), but for that he gets a slightly bigger space (35 tables inside and about as many out) and that “terrific location” right on Montauk Highway.
He thinks the Kitchen’s niche is underserved on the South Fork, and so is hopeful for another warm response. After doing some renovations, including a new kitchen, he hopes to be cooking by April.
Avella worked as a self-described computer geek on Wall Street for nearly 20 years before moving on, going to culinary school and working in a series of restaurants all over the country. Then a friend told him that Connie’s Bake Shop & Cafe on Love Lane was closing. “It seemed like a nice fit,” Avella said. “And not a lot of money at the time.”
Three years later he’s in love with Love Lane and what it’s brought him. He tells his staff they’re not in the restaurant business but the hospitality business, and to “welcome customers like they would in their own home.” He sends staffers to conventions around the country to “bring back ideas and enthusiasm.” Said Avella, “It seems to have been successful. I’ve got such a terrific staff, and some have been here almost since we opened.”
He’s done the math and expects operating two restaurants on two forks will be double the work and maybe more, but that’s no deterrent. “I never worked this hard on Wall Street,” he said. Also, “I never expected to get rich here, and so far it’s bearing out.”
But “I love my restaurant,” he said. “I love my staff and my customers. I love getting to know my neighbors.”
Evidently the place is aptly named.
Long Island Business News / January 6, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Old-world craftsman, new-world tech
There was an interesting exchange on Robert Meyer’s vintage guitars Web site a while back. The headline (“Collecting Vintage Guitars is a Financially Sound Investment”) insistently summed it up. Then, as evidence, Meyer went on to spin tales of a 1959 Fender Sunburst Stratocaster ($250 new) now bringing $17,000. And Eric Clapton’s favorite Strat from the ’70s, which sold for almost a million.
“Values only continue to go up,” Meyer wrote. To which a commenter replied, “Yes, interesting, but with the credit crisis, where will the vintage market be in a year?”
Meyer published his article on Sept. 28, 2008. The next day Congress rejected the $700 billion bailout package and $1.2 trillion disappeared from the U.S. stock market. And now James R. Baker of Shoreham can tell you where the vintage guitar market is a year and a few months later.
“This year has been very hard,” he told me the other day. In fact, he said, “I’m not sure why I’ve survived all these years” while other guitar makers and restorers have gone out of business.
A big reason is that Baker learned early on the value of diversifying. Raised in Queens, he lived in Huntington in the ’70s and ’80s and worked in Manhattan for design companies, doing projects of every kind, including furniture.
At his first firm his boss drove home the eggs-in-many-baskets philosophy. “All it takes is a slowdown and you’re really in trouble,” he was catechized. “That’s why I still make furniture and do design work.”
With the ’80s recession he and his family moved to Shoreham, which he describes as “a wonderful place – so many creative people here.”
Now another recession is gnawing and Baker is again finding ways to survive. That involves a three-prong assault, with an eBay outlet for lower-end instruments, a Web site for his most avant-garde guitars and auction houses for historic pieces. It’s all backed up by his custom furniture work. Plus he’s working on a book, which, fittingly, is about managing creative work.
Other than guitars, that’s the subject Baker is hottest on: the financing struggle faced by creative people in a bottom-line world. If you have a pizza place, no problem, he fumes. But if you make rare guitars, you’re in a gray area, regardless of the fact that you’ve never missed a bill payment. “And don’t even get me started on ARC loans.”
His solution: Work even harder, leverage your house and use credit cards when necessary. “What else can you do?” he said.
Countering the economic angst is the beauty of the work, which is its own reward. Baker loves woodworking and his James R. Baker guitars, which sell in the $4,000 range, show it. He’s one of a smallish breed devoted to the survival of archtop guitars. But that’s not his only focus. “My favorite guitars are the instruments with a story,” he said. “I could give you a 15-minute history on almost every one in my collection.”
Such as his Mario Maccaferri guitar, one of the first made by plastic injection. No, it’s not a classic rosewood Martin, but it represents a watershed moment in guitar history. “He had the guts to invent the next generation,” prefiguring Ovation and the others, Baker said.
Not that he doesn’t have his own stash of magnificent old Martins and Gibsons, plus some very rare instruments, such as a 1790s Fabricatore, dating back to the guitar’s very beginnings.
What’s striking about it all is that such reverence for old-world craftsmanship can find a place in modern times. A Web site offering such gems is like a detour in a time machine.
Baker is excited about it and about reaching a new generation.
“Kids today are really amazing,” he said. “So smart, so quick to absorb new things. They don’t have the cultural boundaries my generation had.” In other words, they’re not locked into a Les Paul as the only guitar worth wanting. “They’re not attached to one look,” he said. “Their vistas are open wide.”
And so, despite the struggles and the recession, Baker is optimistic that his guitars will play on. An indicator: He’s only been marketing via the Internet a short while but already he’s sold six guitars.
Long Island Business News / December 29, 2009
“Values only continue to go up,” Meyer wrote. To which a commenter replied, “Yes, interesting, but with the credit crisis, where will the vintage market be in a year?”
Meyer published his article on Sept. 28, 2008. The next day Congress rejected the $700 billion bailout package and $1.2 trillion disappeared from the U.S. stock market. And now James R. Baker of Shoreham can tell you where the vintage guitar market is a year and a few months later.
“This year has been very hard,” he told me the other day. In fact, he said, “I’m not sure why I’ve survived all these years” while other guitar makers and restorers have gone out of business.
A big reason is that Baker learned early on the value of diversifying. Raised in Queens, he lived in Huntington in the ’70s and ’80s and worked in Manhattan for design companies, doing projects of every kind, including furniture.
At his first firm his boss drove home the eggs-in-many-baskets philosophy. “All it takes is a slowdown and you’re really in trouble,” he was catechized. “That’s why I still make furniture and do design work.”
With the ’80s recession he and his family moved to Shoreham, which he describes as “a wonderful place – so many creative people here.”
Now another recession is gnawing and Baker is again finding ways to survive. That involves a three-prong assault, with an eBay outlet for lower-end instruments, a Web site for his most avant-garde guitars and auction houses for historic pieces. It’s all backed up by his custom furniture work. Plus he’s working on a book, which, fittingly, is about managing creative work.
Other than guitars, that’s the subject Baker is hottest on: the financing struggle faced by creative people in a bottom-line world. If you have a pizza place, no problem, he fumes. But if you make rare guitars, you’re in a gray area, regardless of the fact that you’ve never missed a bill payment. “And don’t even get me started on ARC loans.”
His solution: Work even harder, leverage your house and use credit cards when necessary. “What else can you do?” he said.
Countering the economic angst is the beauty of the work, which is its own reward. Baker loves woodworking and his James R. Baker guitars, which sell in the $4,000 range, show it. He’s one of a smallish breed devoted to the survival of archtop guitars. But that’s not his only focus. “My favorite guitars are the instruments with a story,” he said. “I could give you a 15-minute history on almost every one in my collection.”
Such as his Mario Maccaferri guitar, one of the first made by plastic injection. No, it’s not a classic rosewood Martin, but it represents a watershed moment in guitar history. “He had the guts to invent the next generation,” prefiguring Ovation and the others, Baker said.
Not that he doesn’t have his own stash of magnificent old Martins and Gibsons, plus some very rare instruments, such as a 1790s Fabricatore, dating back to the guitar’s very beginnings.
What’s striking about it all is that such reverence for old-world craftsmanship can find a place in modern times. A Web site offering such gems is like a detour in a time machine.
Baker is excited about it and about reaching a new generation.
“Kids today are really amazing,” he said. “So smart, so quick to absorb new things. They don’t have the cultural boundaries my generation had.” In other words, they’re not locked into a Les Paul as the only guitar worth wanting. “They’re not attached to one look,” he said. “Their vistas are open wide.”
And so, despite the struggles and the recession, Baker is optimistic that his guitars will play on. An indicator: He’s only been marketing via the Internet a short while but already he’s sold six guitars.
Long Island Business News / December 29, 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Spreading some holiday deer
You think your job is hard, try finding a heartwarming economic column to wrap up 2009. I asked around the East End and came up with some pretty threadbare suggestions. For instance this: “Well,” said my dentist, Dr. Al, “body shops are busy because of all the deer accidents.”
And that was the best of them.
But as East Enders know, the deer menace is considerable, growing and getting lots of press. When “Today” show host Matt Lauer collided with one in the Hamptons in March it was big news. Adding impact was the fact that Lauer was on his bike at the time.
A while back a National Highway Traffic Safety Administration study estimated that 1.5 million deer crashes occur each year causing $1.1 billion in damage and 150 deaths, and the totals are rising. The study listed the top 10 crash states and New York wasn’t on the list, but if it were broken down by towns, I’ll bet the East End would be way up there.
All those collisions mean business. Are the numbers up? “Absolutely,” said Brian Klos of Ted’s Auto Body in Peconic. “Maybe 10 cars a week – twice as much as ever.”
Deer strikes account for 20 to 30 percent of business at Fireplace Auto Collision in East Hampton, reported office manager Lily Paulovic. One day last year they took in a record nine such cars in a single day, until it became ridiculous. The numbers were big last year and about the same this year. “They’re everywhere,” Paulovic said. The other day she was driving her truck, glanced over and saw a deer running alongside, like traffic.
Same thing, of course, on Shelter Island, which has evolved into virtually a moated deer community. “I’ve never seen this many,” said George Hubbard at Hubbard’s Repair Shop. “They come walking right down the street in broad daylight.”
When not cruising the streets, deer are devouring vegetation. New York state took it seriously enough to send Suffolk County almost $1 million for agricultural deer fencing this year. Last year 66 farmers won such grants, and each got some $14,000 worth of fencing, according to a story in The Suffolk Times.
“We employ fencers and give them a lot of work,” Vickie Cardaro of Buttercup Farms on Shelter Island told me. But a hungry doe is persistent, and so fencing strategy has had to become almost a military operation. These days she favors the “double-four” technique, which involves two four-foot fences four feet apart. “Deer have very poor depth perception,” she said. The double hurdle apparently is enough to discourage leaping.
As for landscaping, after 11 years in the trenches Cardaro said she’s “got it down to a science.” Her weapons: boxwood, ornamental nepeta and a few others. Eight years ago spirea used to work “but now they eat that too,” she said. “I’ve learned that deer can change diets over the years.”
How much of Cardaro’s career is tied up in deer management? “One hundred percent,” she said. “My whole life is entirely about the deer.” Every season has its challenges. “After Labor Day we have to wrap trees with PVC or chicken wire.” Otherwise, during rutting season, stags rubbing velvet off their new antlers will destroy tree bark, which can lead to infestations, etc.
Much of her fencing business goes to Kingdom Fence in Riverhead, whose co-owner Bob Keen agrees that the double-four can be effective and less visually intrusive than taller blockades. Sometimes homeowners get so frustrated they spend as much as $20,000 putting up super structures to protect their properties. “Some homes look like concentration camps,” he said.
A hint of the desperation was evident at a recent Southampton Village Board meeting. Up for discussion was Mayor Mark Epley’s proposed law to allow residents to defend their homes with bows and arrows. Village officials were hesitant out of concern that arrows might zing into innocent passers-by.
At that point in the meeting, according to the Southampton Press story, village resident Heide Loefken asked if it would be OK if she dug a hole and enticed the deer to fall into it, “like a grave.” Said Loefken, “I’ve thought about this deeply.”
Long Island Business News / December 22, 2009
And that was the best of them.
But as East Enders know, the deer menace is considerable, growing and getting lots of press. When “Today” show host Matt Lauer collided with one in the Hamptons in March it was big news. Adding impact was the fact that Lauer was on his bike at the time.
A while back a National Highway Traffic Safety Administration study estimated that 1.5 million deer crashes occur each year causing $1.1 billion in damage and 150 deaths, and the totals are rising. The study listed the top 10 crash states and New York wasn’t on the list, but if it were broken down by towns, I’ll bet the East End would be way up there.
All those collisions mean business. Are the numbers up? “Absolutely,” said Brian Klos of Ted’s Auto Body in Peconic. “Maybe 10 cars a week – twice as much as ever.”
Deer strikes account for 20 to 30 percent of business at Fireplace Auto Collision in East Hampton, reported office manager Lily Paulovic. One day last year they took in a record nine such cars in a single day, until it became ridiculous. The numbers were big last year and about the same this year. “They’re everywhere,” Paulovic said. The other day she was driving her truck, glanced over and saw a deer running alongside, like traffic.
Same thing, of course, on Shelter Island, which has evolved into virtually a moated deer community. “I’ve never seen this many,” said George Hubbard at Hubbard’s Repair Shop. “They come walking right down the street in broad daylight.”
When not cruising the streets, deer are devouring vegetation. New York state took it seriously enough to send Suffolk County almost $1 million for agricultural deer fencing this year. Last year 66 farmers won such grants, and each got some $14,000 worth of fencing, according to a story in The Suffolk Times.
“We employ fencers and give them a lot of work,” Vickie Cardaro of Buttercup Farms on Shelter Island told me. But a hungry doe is persistent, and so fencing strategy has had to become almost a military operation. These days she favors the “double-four” technique, which involves two four-foot fences four feet apart. “Deer have very poor depth perception,” she said. The double hurdle apparently is enough to discourage leaping.
As for landscaping, after 11 years in the trenches Cardaro said she’s “got it down to a science.” Her weapons: boxwood, ornamental nepeta and a few others. Eight years ago spirea used to work “but now they eat that too,” she said. “I’ve learned that deer can change diets over the years.”
How much of Cardaro’s career is tied up in deer management? “One hundred percent,” she said. “My whole life is entirely about the deer.” Every season has its challenges. “After Labor Day we have to wrap trees with PVC or chicken wire.” Otherwise, during rutting season, stags rubbing velvet off their new antlers will destroy tree bark, which can lead to infestations, etc.
Much of her fencing business goes to Kingdom Fence in Riverhead, whose co-owner Bob Keen agrees that the double-four can be effective and less visually intrusive than taller blockades. Sometimes homeowners get so frustrated they spend as much as $20,000 putting up super structures to protect their properties. “Some homes look like concentration camps,” he said.
A hint of the desperation was evident at a recent Southampton Village Board meeting. Up for discussion was Mayor Mark Epley’s proposed law to allow residents to defend their homes with bows and arrows. Village officials were hesitant out of concern that arrows might zing into innocent passers-by.
At that point in the meeting, according to the Southampton Press story, village resident Heide Loefken asked if it would be OK if she dug a hole and enticed the deer to fall into it, “like a grave.” Said Loefken, “I’ve thought about this deeply.”
Long Island Business News / December 22, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Landmark shop needs second miracle
Samuel Levine founded the Arcade Department Store in 1928. One year later the stock market crashed but the Arcade rolled on, becoming a Greenport landmark. It was located in the heart of the village in every sense of the phrase.
Sixty-nine years later it was going out of business and Greenporters were bereft. With its wooden floors and aisles of necessities and notions, it was an emotional touchstone to the good old days.
Then a mercantile miracle happened: Bob and Roseanne Paquette appeared. Not only did they buy the old place, but they vowed to keep it as it was.
Now, 13 years later, the country’s battling another financial crisis and some fear this one might finally be the Arcade’s Waterloo. The store’s been on the market for a year but there are no serious offers. “Only bottom-feeders looking for a fire sale,” Bob Paquette told me last week. “I’m not looking for that.”
In the meantime, Paquette has reefed the store’s sails to weather the storm. Among other things, that’s meant cutting the staff from 22 to eight. Painful? “It certainly is,” he said. “Hours have been cut somewhat too.” Nevertheless, he said morale remains remarkably high. “The people here know we’re doing the best we can,” he said. “I’m very lucky; I’ve got a good crew.”
While the store cuts back, of course, costs do not. Energy, taxes, insurance – “they’re all going up,” Paquette said. “I’m trying to reinvent the store to keep it together.”
That reinvention involves a plan to lease out one-third of the space to others with products to sell. Products like sporting goods, shoes, linens, jewelry, gifts and art. “People are talking to me,” he said. “I’m taking phone numbers and will determine what’s best. I don’t want a flea market feel.”
Paquette said sharing space is an old idea that’s been used successfully across the country as the big-box revolution gutted downtowns. And for the record, he said, that’s what’s happening with the Arcade.
“It’s been very difficult to keep it going,” Paquette said. “There are so many second-home owners out here now,” and they tend to gravitate to Riverhead for their serious shopping. “It was hard when it was just Tanger,” he said. “But now it’s Tanger, Sports Authority, Best Buy, Michael’s, Border’s, TGIF. People make it a destination and stay all day.”
It’s “the way America’s gone,” he said, noting the transition from downtown shopping at places like Bohack and Sears.
Add to that a Great Recession and the slide gets steep. “New York sales tax receipts are down 30 to 35 percent,” Paquette said. “That tells you what’s happening.”
It’s a grim turn for someone who has a genetic attraction to all things five-and-dime. Paquette’s father was in the business for 50 years. “Retail was in my blood,” he told The New York Times in 1996. “I was always on the floor with my dad.”
Paquette himself worked at McClellan-McCrory in Riverhead before going into radio in New York. When he left that career in 1996, it was almost kismet that he found the Arcade with a “For Sale” sign in place.
It was a fortuitous pairing for both parties, but the joy is draining away now. “It’s a dinosaur,” Paquette said, and it would take a special person to want to ride it. “We carry over 40,000 items. A lot of people are intimidated by the inventory alone.”
The last year has been funereal for Paquette. Once he lived on a boat, and now he dreams about doing that again. Then there’s this fantasy: “I’d rather be a customer at the Arcade than the owner.”
Nevertheless, he’s going to soldier on with the shared-space plan in hopes that the old variety store can ride out this latest tempest.
Thirteen years ago I wrote a column wishing that there could be some kind of business preservation program, because some shops are as important to our sense of place as are the farms and the old homes we currently strive to save. The focus of the column was the Arcade. Then, miraculously, the Paquettes arrived and did it.
Is it too much to hope for another miracle?
Long Island Business News / December 16, 2009
Sixty-nine years later it was going out of business and Greenporters were bereft. With its wooden floors and aisles of necessities and notions, it was an emotional touchstone to the good old days.
Then a mercantile miracle happened: Bob and Roseanne Paquette appeared. Not only did they buy the old place, but they vowed to keep it as it was.
Now, 13 years later, the country’s battling another financial crisis and some fear this one might finally be the Arcade’s Waterloo. The store’s been on the market for a year but there are no serious offers. “Only bottom-feeders looking for a fire sale,” Bob Paquette told me last week. “I’m not looking for that.”
In the meantime, Paquette has reefed the store’s sails to weather the storm. Among other things, that’s meant cutting the staff from 22 to eight. Painful? “It certainly is,” he said. “Hours have been cut somewhat too.” Nevertheless, he said morale remains remarkably high. “The people here know we’re doing the best we can,” he said. “I’m very lucky; I’ve got a good crew.”
While the store cuts back, of course, costs do not. Energy, taxes, insurance – “they’re all going up,” Paquette said. “I’m trying to reinvent the store to keep it together.”
That reinvention involves a plan to lease out one-third of the space to others with products to sell. Products like sporting goods, shoes, linens, jewelry, gifts and art. “People are talking to me,” he said. “I’m taking phone numbers and will determine what’s best. I don’t want a flea market feel.”
Paquette said sharing space is an old idea that’s been used successfully across the country as the big-box revolution gutted downtowns. And for the record, he said, that’s what’s happening with the Arcade.
“It’s been very difficult to keep it going,” Paquette said. “There are so many second-home owners out here now,” and they tend to gravitate to Riverhead for their serious shopping. “It was hard when it was just Tanger,” he said. “But now it’s Tanger, Sports Authority, Best Buy, Michael’s, Border’s, TGIF. People make it a destination and stay all day.”
It’s “the way America’s gone,” he said, noting the transition from downtown shopping at places like Bohack and Sears.
Add to that a Great Recession and the slide gets steep. “New York sales tax receipts are down 30 to 35 percent,” Paquette said. “That tells you what’s happening.”
It’s a grim turn for someone who has a genetic attraction to all things five-and-dime. Paquette’s father was in the business for 50 years. “Retail was in my blood,” he told The New York Times in 1996. “I was always on the floor with my dad.”
Paquette himself worked at McClellan-McCrory in Riverhead before going into radio in New York. When he left that career in 1996, it was almost kismet that he found the Arcade with a “For Sale” sign in place.
It was a fortuitous pairing for both parties, but the joy is draining away now. “It’s a dinosaur,” Paquette said, and it would take a special person to want to ride it. “We carry over 40,000 items. A lot of people are intimidated by the inventory alone.”
The last year has been funereal for Paquette. Once he lived on a boat, and now he dreams about doing that again. Then there’s this fantasy: “I’d rather be a customer at the Arcade than the owner.”
Nevertheless, he’s going to soldier on with the shared-space plan in hopes that the old variety store can ride out this latest tempest.
Thirteen years ago I wrote a column wishing that there could be some kind of business preservation program, because some shops are as important to our sense of place as are the farms and the old homes we currently strive to save. The focus of the column was the Arcade. Then, miraculously, the Paquettes arrived and did it.
Is it too much to hope for another miracle?
Long Island Business News / December 16, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Paparazzi swarm out east
“Fame is a disease,” said comedian Margaret Cho, and she wasn’t joking. These days it’s a pandemic that afflicts both stars and the star-struck. Take, for instance, the Tiger Woods story.
Newspapers have been feasting on it, and not because he’s got a fun name (“Cagey Tiger,” “Tiger Hides His Tale,” etc.). Also not because it’s high time golf finally generated some shock value. It’s really all about us. Celebrity sells. Sex sells. Scandal sells. So a celebrity sex scandal is catnip on steroids. If people weren’t addicted to it, tabloids wouldn’t be surviving even as legitimate newspapers are folding.
Tiger is big-time catnip, and since there’s a scandal, of course it has a Hamptons connection. His alleged/rumored/staunchly denied mistress, Rachel Uchitel, reportedly has worked as a Hamptons nightclub hostess, “policing the velvet rope,” as the lush expression goes.
The last time Woods was linked to the Hamptons was March 2008, when rumors swirled (from the New York Post) that he had bought a $65 million waterfront home in Southampton. The story was debunked but still managed to live on for a while.
Another case of celebrity psychosis recently hit the East End in the form of “The Romantics,” the “Big Chill”-ish movie being filmed in and around Southold. For those whose People magazine subscriptions have expired, its cast includes Anna Paquin, Elijah Wood, Jeremy Strong, Adam Brody, Josh Duhamel and (cymbal crash, please) Katie Holmes.
It’s the last name that brought the paparazzi out in force, lining the beach to capture the filming of a bayside wedding scene. But since the beach was too low, the canny photogs raided local hardware stores to buy ladders, The Suffolk Times reported.
So showbiz has been good for the local economy. Motels, restaurants and coffee shops have also seen upticks. But since it’s fame we’re speaking of, there must also be a dose of crazy. It was summed up in a Times editorial headlined, “Paparazzi, don’t let the door hit you in the … ,” which culminated by asserting that the photographers’ “intrusive behavior … far outweighs the little good they’ve brought to the local economy.”
The Times itself, however, did photograph Tom Cruise (Katie Holmes’ husband, for those who read books) while jogging, and asked him a question, which he ignored. “And you know what?” said the editorial, “We completely understand.”
Nonetheless, the paper did put a video of the encounter on its Web site, and even the respectful Times was chastised by a reader in an online comment for intrusive behavior. The video is no longer available.
But what’s a newspaper to do? Imagine the debate inside the newsroom. Mega-stars are walking among us. If we ignore them, aren’t we missing a story? But if we cover it, how are we different from the paparazzi?
To get an insider’s thoughts, I called a paparazzo who was here for the big event. “No, I didn’t buy a ladder,” Bobby Bank told me. “I rented a speedboat.” (Coincidentally, he’s no stranger to the North Fork. As a kid he and his father used to go fishing out of Mitchell’s Dock in Greenport.)
Google “bobby bank romantics” and you’ll see a flood of his shots from Southold. A few days after his visit he told me by phone, “I’m just coming back from shooting Barry Manilow, Lance Armstrong and Matt Damon.” Every day, he said, many constellations of stars twinkle around the tri-state area. Bank and his long lenses zoom in on as many as possible, including “The Romantics” in Southold.
The 54-year-old Bank is unapologetic about his profession, and accepts the public’s hunger for what it is. Which means he treats celebrities as a sort of cash crop to be harvested with his camera. “I know the pulse of the city very well,” he said.
I read recently that paparazzi pay has declined from the glory days when a shot of a rampaging Britney Spears brought a reported $300,000. So how much will Bank’s Southold photos yield? He said it depends on how widely they’re purchased through WireImage and Getty Images, which broker his work. But he did assert this: The real money to be would have been a certain picture shot through an unshaded window. The subject: “Katie Holmes naked.”
Long Island Business News / December 10, 2009
Newspapers have been feasting on it, and not because he’s got a fun name (“Cagey Tiger,” “Tiger Hides His Tale,” etc.). Also not because it’s high time golf finally generated some shock value. It’s really all about us. Celebrity sells. Sex sells. Scandal sells. So a celebrity sex scandal is catnip on steroids. If people weren’t addicted to it, tabloids wouldn’t be surviving even as legitimate newspapers are folding.
Tiger is big-time catnip, and since there’s a scandal, of course it has a Hamptons connection. His alleged/rumored/staunchly denied mistress, Rachel Uchitel, reportedly has worked as a Hamptons nightclub hostess, “policing the velvet rope,” as the lush expression goes.
The last time Woods was linked to the Hamptons was March 2008, when rumors swirled (from the New York Post) that he had bought a $65 million waterfront home in Southampton. The story was debunked but still managed to live on for a while.
Another case of celebrity psychosis recently hit the East End in the form of “The Romantics,” the “Big Chill”-ish movie being filmed in and around Southold. For those whose People magazine subscriptions have expired, its cast includes Anna Paquin, Elijah Wood, Jeremy Strong, Adam Brody, Josh Duhamel and (cymbal crash, please) Katie Holmes.
It’s the last name that brought the paparazzi out in force, lining the beach to capture the filming of a bayside wedding scene. But since the beach was too low, the canny photogs raided local hardware stores to buy ladders, The Suffolk Times reported.
So showbiz has been good for the local economy. Motels, restaurants and coffee shops have also seen upticks. But since it’s fame we’re speaking of, there must also be a dose of crazy. It was summed up in a Times editorial headlined, “Paparazzi, don’t let the door hit you in the … ,” which culminated by asserting that the photographers’ “intrusive behavior … far outweighs the little good they’ve brought to the local economy.”
The Times itself, however, did photograph Tom Cruise (Katie Holmes’ husband, for those who read books) while jogging, and asked him a question, which he ignored. “And you know what?” said the editorial, “We completely understand.”
Nonetheless, the paper did put a video of the encounter on its Web site, and even the respectful Times was chastised by a reader in an online comment for intrusive behavior. The video is no longer available.
But what’s a newspaper to do? Imagine the debate inside the newsroom. Mega-stars are walking among us. If we ignore them, aren’t we missing a story? But if we cover it, how are we different from the paparazzi?
To get an insider’s thoughts, I called a paparazzo who was here for the big event. “No, I didn’t buy a ladder,” Bobby Bank told me. “I rented a speedboat.” (Coincidentally, he’s no stranger to the North Fork. As a kid he and his father used to go fishing out of Mitchell’s Dock in Greenport.)
Google “bobby bank romantics” and you’ll see a flood of his shots from Southold. A few days after his visit he told me by phone, “I’m just coming back from shooting Barry Manilow, Lance Armstrong and Matt Damon.” Every day, he said, many constellations of stars twinkle around the tri-state area. Bank and his long lenses zoom in on as many as possible, including “The Romantics” in Southold.
The 54-year-old Bank is unapologetic about his profession, and accepts the public’s hunger for what it is. Which means he treats celebrities as a sort of cash crop to be harvested with his camera. “I know the pulse of the city very well,” he said.
I read recently that paparazzi pay has declined from the glory days when a shot of a rampaging Britney Spears brought a reported $300,000. So how much will Bank’s Southold photos yield? He said it depends on how widely they’re purchased through WireImage and Getty Images, which broker his work. But he did assert this: The real money to be would have been a certain picture shot through an unshaded window. The subject: “Katie Holmes naked.”
Long Island Business News / December 10, 2009
Put to rest the myth of the highly paid doctor
In case you missed it, there’s been lots of health talk recently. Much has been about patients struggling to get care. Rarely do we hear about doctors struggling to give it.
One such doctor is Erica Jurasits.
Not long ago the owner of North Country Family Health and Medicine in Rocky Point was thinking of giving up the fight. “I keep putting money in, reinvesting in the practice, but not getting anything back out,” she told me recently. “At some point you have to say that’s enough, cut your losses and move on. Join a multispecialty practice or become a teacher at the university. A lot of physicians are retiring early and moving out of state.”
But she doesn’t want to do any of that. “I love my practice, and I love my patients,” she said. “I think I give quality care but the business end of things gets a little difficult.”
The business end includes Long Island’s notoriously high real estate prices and taxes, plus salaries for her 3.5 employees, big student loans that are “like a second mortgage, basically,” and on and on. Worst of all is the “horrendous” malpractice insurance.
In Nassau/Suffolk, which ranks sixth highest in the nation, specialists pay well over $100,000. “Even family physicians are in the $20,000 range,” Jurasits said. Match all that outlay with inadequate HMO reimbursements and the dilemma is clear. “Insurance barely covers costs. I don’t even give vaccinations for HPV or shingles anymore.”
As a result, Jurasits began taking on more and more patients and seeing up to 50 a day. “It really burnt me out,” she said. “It’s what I needed to do to keep my practice afloat, but I just knew I couldn’t give quality care.” Since then she’s added another doctor and is cutting her appointments to a maximum of 30 a day.
Problem solved? “Not yet, but we’re working on it,” she said.
Jurasits brings a broad spectrum of experience to the subject. A 1991 graduate of the New York College of Osteopathic Medicine, she interned at Peninsula Medical Center in Queens and then at Robert Wood Johnson Medical School in New Jersey. On a health policy fellowship she helped write one of the nation’s first patient protection acts.
She also has two children, one of whom was home sick the day we spoke. So you could say that Jurasits sees health issues from all sides: public, private and practitioner. “Absolutely,” she agreed with a laugh.
And not only from a U.S. viewpoint, since she also did a residency rotation in England. I asked her about the popularly held notion that doctors in countries with nationalized health care make modest livings while those in the United States all live in beachfront mansions and drive Mercedeses. Her laugh turned rueful. “That’s a definite misconception,” she said. “We live in a two-bedroom ranch house on barely a quarter-acre, and it’s not on the water. I drive a little Toyota van.”
(By the way, she doesn’t have much hope for nationalized medicine here due to restricted access. “I don’t think the American people will stand for that,” she said.)
Meanwhile, some U.S. doctors aren’t standing for the current situation. Some have started charging a flat $75 per visit. Some are offering concierge service, in which patients pay a couple thousand dollars per year just to get guaranteed access. The advantage there is the ability to see fewer patients and give them more time and attention.
Jurasits has seen figures indicating that a primary care physician’s practice needs 3,000 to 4,000 active patients to survive. But that doesn’t work for her brand of doctoring. “Osteopaths are much more geared toward prevention,” she said, daunted by the notion of giving thorough care to that many patients.
Yet another problem might be the average person’s disbelief that doctors can suffer financial distress. It’s a refutation of a deeply held American belief: that medicine is a sure-fire career path to wealth.
These days, in many cases, it’s apparently not true. And after 11 years of practicing, six of them in her own company, Dr. Jurasits herself seemed surprised to be saying, “I would have thought it would be profitable.”
Long Island Business News / December 3, 2009
One such doctor is Erica Jurasits.
Not long ago the owner of North Country Family Health and Medicine in Rocky Point was thinking of giving up the fight. “I keep putting money in, reinvesting in the practice, but not getting anything back out,” she told me recently. “At some point you have to say that’s enough, cut your losses and move on. Join a multispecialty practice or become a teacher at the university. A lot of physicians are retiring early and moving out of state.”
But she doesn’t want to do any of that. “I love my practice, and I love my patients,” she said. “I think I give quality care but the business end of things gets a little difficult.”
The business end includes Long Island’s notoriously high real estate prices and taxes, plus salaries for her 3.5 employees, big student loans that are “like a second mortgage, basically,” and on and on. Worst of all is the “horrendous” malpractice insurance.
In Nassau/Suffolk, which ranks sixth highest in the nation, specialists pay well over $100,000. “Even family physicians are in the $20,000 range,” Jurasits said. Match all that outlay with inadequate HMO reimbursements and the dilemma is clear. “Insurance barely covers costs. I don’t even give vaccinations for HPV or shingles anymore.”
As a result, Jurasits began taking on more and more patients and seeing up to 50 a day. “It really burnt me out,” she said. “It’s what I needed to do to keep my practice afloat, but I just knew I couldn’t give quality care.” Since then she’s added another doctor and is cutting her appointments to a maximum of 30 a day.
Problem solved? “Not yet, but we’re working on it,” she said.
Jurasits brings a broad spectrum of experience to the subject. A 1991 graduate of the New York College of Osteopathic Medicine, she interned at Peninsula Medical Center in Queens and then at Robert Wood Johnson Medical School in New Jersey. On a health policy fellowship she helped write one of the nation’s first patient protection acts.
She also has two children, one of whom was home sick the day we spoke. So you could say that Jurasits sees health issues from all sides: public, private and practitioner. “Absolutely,” she agreed with a laugh.
And not only from a U.S. viewpoint, since she also did a residency rotation in England. I asked her about the popularly held notion that doctors in countries with nationalized health care make modest livings while those in the United States all live in beachfront mansions and drive Mercedeses. Her laugh turned rueful. “That’s a definite misconception,” she said. “We live in a two-bedroom ranch house on barely a quarter-acre, and it’s not on the water. I drive a little Toyota van.”
(By the way, she doesn’t have much hope for nationalized medicine here due to restricted access. “I don’t think the American people will stand for that,” she said.)
Meanwhile, some U.S. doctors aren’t standing for the current situation. Some have started charging a flat $75 per visit. Some are offering concierge service, in which patients pay a couple thousand dollars per year just to get guaranteed access. The advantage there is the ability to see fewer patients and give them more time and attention.
Jurasits has seen figures indicating that a primary care physician’s practice needs 3,000 to 4,000 active patients to survive. But that doesn’t work for her brand of doctoring. “Osteopaths are much more geared toward prevention,” she said, daunted by the notion of giving thorough care to that many patients.
Yet another problem might be the average person’s disbelief that doctors can suffer financial distress. It’s a refutation of a deeply held American belief: that medicine is a sure-fire career path to wealth.
These days, in many cases, it’s apparently not true. And after 11 years of practicing, six of them in her own company, Dr. Jurasits herself seemed surprised to be saying, “I would have thought it would be profitable.”
Long Island Business News / December 3, 2009
Restoring the Cricket II
“Jaws” swims on.
Thirty-four years after the blockbuster was released, the movie and its offshoots are still scaring the bejesus out of people and earning a lot of money doing it.
There are Jaws theme parks in Orlando, San Francisco and Japan. There’s a documentary. There are toys, posters, games, T-shirts and fan clubs. Martha’s Vineyard hosts JawsFests.
All of which screams that a monument to Montauk fishing with the Cricket II as its centerpiece simply has to happen.
To explain:
Frank Mundus was the legendary Montauk shark hunter who was the basis for the crusty, crazed Capt. Quint in the movie. Mundus died a year ago and his boat, the Cricket II, upon which the movie’s Orca was based, went to auction. It was bought for $51,750 by Jon Dodd of Rhode Island, who has begun renovation.
Meanwhile, however, efforts to keep the boat here as part of a monument to Montauk fishing were under way. At the helm was Henry Uihlein of Uihlein Marine in Montauk, where the Cricket II has been berthed.
As a result, the two men ended up at odds. That’s unfortunate because they have a lot in common. Most importantly, they both had fond connections with Mundus dating back to their childhoods. “My father had that effect on a lot of young men,” the captain’s daughter, Patty Mundus of Greenport, told me last week.
Dodd, who won the auction, was 13 when he started writing Mundus letters, offering to swab decks if he could go along on a shark-hunting expedition. “He was my Mickey Mantle,” Dodd said.
Same sort of thing for Uihlein. “As a kid I saw those sharks being pulled,” he recalled. “There was a lot of excitement. He gave me sharks’ eyes and taught me how to make marbles out of them by burying them.”
Uihlein went on to run the marina where the Cricket II was kept. “Frank trusted me with the boat,” he said. “He came to me two or three days before he died and told me to take care of it. He wanted the boat here.”
The captain’s daughter agrees. “I like the idea of the Cricket remaining in Montauk, not just as a memorial to my father,” but as part of a monument to Montauk fishing.
Uihlein said he’d succeeded in getting the county to donate a piece of land to that end, but now the campaign is scuttled. The money’s not there and “the boat is gone,” he said. “It’s no longer Frank’s boat.”
Patty Mundus agrees. “It’s very unfortunate it’s already been taken apart,” she said. “It was in sort of artifact state before. Now the whole boat’s been gutted.”
Dodd says he didn’t know about the memorial idea when he won the auction and began restoration. When he did hear, he said he would be willing to part with the Cricket II if his $71,850 investment could be reimbursed. More recently an unnamed Montauk accountant sent him an e-mail suggesting he could cover his costs by donating the boat to Montauk. That interests him.
“I’ve been reading the comments about what a shame it is, etc.” Dodd said. “I’m not extremely desirous to get rid of it, but if something special could be done …” He had planned to use the rebuilt Cricket II for family outings, but he too likes the idea of it being “the centerpiece of a monument to commemorate Montauk as the fishing capital of the world.”
As for the loss of artifact status, he said the things he’s done, such as removing the gas tank, would have to be done anyway. If there’s truly interest, however, he said it should happen quickly before major expenses are incurred.
This is too good an idea to let fizzle. Think of all the Montauk anglers who might contribute. Maybe Steven Spielberg would help too. (I called and got as far as his publicist’s secretary. No reply yet. Also no reply from East Hampton’s supervisor-elect or acting supervisor.)
But I hope we don’t let this one get away. Something’s not right about Martha’s Vineyard hosting the highly successful JawsFests. It was all based on our shark, our Mundus and our Cricket II. It ought to be our attraction too.
Long Island Business News / November 23, 2009
Thirty-four years after the blockbuster was released, the movie and its offshoots are still scaring the bejesus out of people and earning a lot of money doing it.
There are Jaws theme parks in Orlando, San Francisco and Japan. There’s a documentary. There are toys, posters, games, T-shirts and fan clubs. Martha’s Vineyard hosts JawsFests.
All of which screams that a monument to Montauk fishing with the Cricket II as its centerpiece simply has to happen.
To explain:
Frank Mundus was the legendary Montauk shark hunter who was the basis for the crusty, crazed Capt. Quint in the movie. Mundus died a year ago and his boat, the Cricket II, upon which the movie’s Orca was based, went to auction. It was bought for $51,750 by Jon Dodd of Rhode Island, who has begun renovation.
Meanwhile, however, efforts to keep the boat here as part of a monument to Montauk fishing were under way. At the helm was Henry Uihlein of Uihlein Marine in Montauk, where the Cricket II has been berthed.
As a result, the two men ended up at odds. That’s unfortunate because they have a lot in common. Most importantly, they both had fond connections with Mundus dating back to their childhoods. “My father had that effect on a lot of young men,” the captain’s daughter, Patty Mundus of Greenport, told me last week.
Dodd, who won the auction, was 13 when he started writing Mundus letters, offering to swab decks if he could go along on a shark-hunting expedition. “He was my Mickey Mantle,” Dodd said.
Same sort of thing for Uihlein. “As a kid I saw those sharks being pulled,” he recalled. “There was a lot of excitement. He gave me sharks’ eyes and taught me how to make marbles out of them by burying them.”
Uihlein went on to run the marina where the Cricket II was kept. “Frank trusted me with the boat,” he said. “He came to me two or three days before he died and told me to take care of it. He wanted the boat here.”
The captain’s daughter agrees. “I like the idea of the Cricket remaining in Montauk, not just as a memorial to my father,” but as part of a monument to Montauk fishing.
Uihlein said he’d succeeded in getting the county to donate a piece of land to that end, but now the campaign is scuttled. The money’s not there and “the boat is gone,” he said. “It’s no longer Frank’s boat.”
Patty Mundus agrees. “It’s very unfortunate it’s already been taken apart,” she said. “It was in sort of artifact state before. Now the whole boat’s been gutted.”
Dodd says he didn’t know about the memorial idea when he won the auction and began restoration. When he did hear, he said he would be willing to part with the Cricket II if his $71,850 investment could be reimbursed. More recently an unnamed Montauk accountant sent him an e-mail suggesting he could cover his costs by donating the boat to Montauk. That interests him.
“I’ve been reading the comments about what a shame it is, etc.” Dodd said. “I’m not extremely desirous to get rid of it, but if something special could be done …” He had planned to use the rebuilt Cricket II for family outings, but he too likes the idea of it being “the centerpiece of a monument to commemorate Montauk as the fishing capital of the world.”
As for the loss of artifact status, he said the things he’s done, such as removing the gas tank, would have to be done anyway. If there’s truly interest, however, he said it should happen quickly before major expenses are incurred.
This is too good an idea to let fizzle. Think of all the Montauk anglers who might contribute. Maybe Steven Spielberg would help too. (I called and got as far as his publicist’s secretary. No reply yet. Also no reply from East Hampton’s supervisor-elect or acting supervisor.)
But I hope we don’t let this one get away. Something’s not right about Martha’s Vineyard hosting the highly successful JawsFests. It was all based on our shark, our Mundus and our Cricket II. It ought to be our attraction too.
Long Island Business News / November 23, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
