Monday
Jul122010
I Don't Have To Believe It If I Don't Want To
Monday, July 12, 2010 at 1:44PM
I did a two-hour walking tour, with forty people, for New York University, around Washington Square. The subject was the university and Greenwich Village. On the tour were many who lived in the Village for years. “The Villager,” an area newspaper, advertised the event.
If it were to rain, I was to bring the group inside a 1840s Greek Revival row house and dispense my information there. The house, on the south side of the Square, once in private hands, was owned for decades by NYU. The top floor had been the home to artist Edward Hopper and his wife. His studio was still there.
I stood by Washington Arch. It was drizzling. A tall, slender fellow, with a long neck, lined face and gray hair protruding from a bicycle helmet, pedaled up to me. “So you’re the tour guide. I looked you up on your website.” He continued, “So what are you going to talk about later?”
I responded with, “I live in the present. I have no idea. Besides, I could suffer a stroke, making whatever I tell you moot, for there may be no 'later.' ” Then I got up and walked away.
Inside me was my usual discord. Was tour guiding a service industry job, or was a guide a ‘product?’ If it were the former, the customer was always right. If the latter were true, the client had to follow directions, to get the optimum output from the guide.
To wit: I was doing a New York City tour with incoming freshman from a college in New Jersey. It was a two-coach movement. One student continuously talked aloud. I said, “You have poor impulse control. It's age appropriate, but you’re undermining the tour. Some may want to learn.” Then I asked for a show of hands of those who did. Digits flew up around him. His voice grew louder. I finally said, “Go to the other coach. There’s something going on in your home life that I cannot repair.”
Another time, I was doing “An August Evening Walk Along the Hudson River.” Thirty people paid their admission. Two couples kept on commenting how hot it was. Wanting a remedy, they turned to me. “We’re all hot." I said. "If you keep talking about how hot you are, you keep visiting your annoyance.” They left the tour.
Oh how I wished they were middle school kids. With them, I'd say, “It’s this, or a sharp stick in the eye” ending all complaints.
Medical problems, however, create a different situation. I had a tour where a woman fell. After an emergency room visit, she wore a soft cast on her right knee. She used a cane. While entering a restaurant for our group dinner I spotted a wheelchair. It was folded against the register. I took it, thinking it belonged to the establishment. The injured tourist sat in it as I wheeled her to our table in the back. Thirty minutes later, the whole place heard, “Someone stole my wheelchair.”
Another time a college student was prone on the the back seat of the coach. His buddy told me he just ate bags of Skittles and he had diabetes. Our next stop was the now defunct St. Vincent’s Hospital. I left him there and went on with the tour.
The sun was out. There was a group before me of mixed ages and sizes, standing ready for a tour. I began with, “Nieuw Amsterdam was about commerce, not education. No college existed back then.” The man on the bicycle interrupted. “I thought this was the history of NYU?” I responded with, “I have to show how the city evolved.” I continued with, “Even when this colony became English, Kings College was late in coming, 1754. “ “How is this connected to NYU?” he said again.
Now I turned. “This is a group tour. If you need individual attention, travel with your mother, be she around physically or in spirit.” He stayed and never spoke again.
When we passed Paulette Goddard Hall, many never heard of her. I said she was an actor, once married to Charlie Chaplin, the comic genius, and also Erich Maria Remarque, the writer of “All Quiet on the Western Front.” She left her estate to the school. Next I heard, “Who was with her when she died?” My reply, “I have no idea, since we all die alone."
In front of us were the substantial NYU Law School buildings. They replaced smaller ones leased by Albert Strunsky, a Russian immigrant, who arrived here in 1910. He rented rooms to artists, writers and actors. When they could not pay, he let them stay until they could.
His daughter Lenore married Ira Gershwin.
Ira Gershwin's younger brother was George. They wrote music together. George wrote the melodies and then brother Ira wrote the words. Their royalties still enrich their estates.
Ira died in his eighties, George, July 11, 1938. He was 37. The writer, John O’Hara, upon learning of George's passing said, “I don’t have to believe it if I don’t want to.”
The truth is -- whatever we choose to believe -- the content of my tours included.
If it were to rain, I was to bring the group inside a 1840s Greek Revival row house and dispense my information there. The house, on the south side of the Square, once in private hands, was owned for decades by NYU. The top floor had been the home to artist Edward Hopper and his wife. His studio was still there.
I stood by Washington Arch. It was drizzling. A tall, slender fellow, with a long neck, lined face and gray hair protruding from a bicycle helmet, pedaled up to me. “So you’re the tour guide. I looked you up on your website.” He continued, “So what are you going to talk about later?”
I responded with, “I live in the present. I have no idea. Besides, I could suffer a stroke, making whatever I tell you moot, for there may be no 'later.' ” Then I got up and walked away.
Inside me was my usual discord. Was tour guiding a service industry job, or was a guide a ‘product?’ If it were the former, the customer was always right. If the latter were true, the client had to follow directions, to get the optimum output from the guide.
To wit: I was doing a New York City tour with incoming freshman from a college in New Jersey. It was a two-coach movement. One student continuously talked aloud. I said, “You have poor impulse control. It's age appropriate, but you’re undermining the tour. Some may want to learn.” Then I asked for a show of hands of those who did. Digits flew up around him. His voice grew louder. I finally said, “Go to the other coach. There’s something going on in your home life that I cannot repair.”
Another time, I was doing “An August Evening Walk Along the Hudson River.” Thirty people paid their admission. Two couples kept on commenting how hot it was. Wanting a remedy, they turned to me. “We’re all hot." I said. "If you keep talking about how hot you are, you keep visiting your annoyance.” They left the tour.
Oh how I wished they were middle school kids. With them, I'd say, “It’s this, or a sharp stick in the eye” ending all complaints.
Medical problems, however, create a different situation. I had a tour where a woman fell. After an emergency room visit, she wore a soft cast on her right knee. She used a cane. While entering a restaurant for our group dinner I spotted a wheelchair. It was folded against the register. I took it, thinking it belonged to the establishment. The injured tourist sat in it as I wheeled her to our table in the back. Thirty minutes later, the whole place heard, “Someone stole my wheelchair.”
Another time a college student was prone on the the back seat of the coach. His buddy told me he just ate bags of Skittles and he had diabetes. Our next stop was the now defunct St. Vincent’s Hospital. I left him there and went on with the tour.
The sun was out. There was a group before me of mixed ages and sizes, standing ready for a tour. I began with, “Nieuw Amsterdam was about commerce, not education. No college existed back then.” The man on the bicycle interrupted. “I thought this was the history of NYU?” I responded with, “I have to show how the city evolved.” I continued with, “Even when this colony became English, Kings College was late in coming, 1754. “ “How is this connected to NYU?” he said again.
Now I turned. “This is a group tour. If you need individual attention, travel with your mother, be she around physically or in spirit.” He stayed and never spoke again.
When we passed Paulette Goddard Hall, many never heard of her. I said she was an actor, once married to Charlie Chaplin, the comic genius, and also Erich Maria Remarque, the writer of “All Quiet on the Western Front.” She left her estate to the school. Next I heard, “Who was with her when she died?” My reply, “I have no idea, since we all die alone."
In front of us were the substantial NYU Law School buildings. They replaced smaller ones leased by Albert Strunsky, a Russian immigrant, who arrived here in 1910. He rented rooms to artists, writers and actors. When they could not pay, he let them stay until they could.
His daughter Lenore married Ira Gershwin.
Ira Gershwin's younger brother was George. They wrote music together. George wrote the melodies and then brother Ira wrote the words. Their royalties still enrich their estates.
Ira died in his eighties, George, July 11, 1938. He was 37. The writer, John O’Hara, upon learning of George's passing said, “I don’t have to believe it if I don’t want to.”
The truth is -- whatever we choose to believe -- the content of my tours included.
Reader Comments (13)
What a wonderful, interesting set of vignettes. And what wonderful fast-retorts flung back at the recipients. Witty, and intelligent. Had fun reading this. I've experienced this tour guide and she is a delightful one-in-a-mllion with a magnificent wry sense of humor. Keep it on!!!!!
Oh my gosh, Jane. I laughed out loud. I wish I had your gift for comebacks to those that can be annoying.
Even Pete loved this one!
Haha, i laughed out loud too. I miss hearing your comebacks they were really funny. Next time i come to NYC i will request you for my tour guide!
love,
Abby Woods
( from the whitford/rowe group with lips and haircut) haha :)
Your wit never abandons you!
Alas, Jane, I spent 20 years at an ad agency, so my first instinct is to try to please the client. I do sometimes run out of patience, especially (as you note) with the middle school students. And sometimes, I have a come-back, as with the taunt about what Columbia had to do with NYU. It was, in fact, a group of Presbyterian men who found Columbia too aristocratic, too exclusive and too Anglo-Catholic and therefore founded NYU to provide an alternative. It's nice to know that distrust of the Establishment dates to 1835, if not earlier.
Jane,
You are so great and witty. I just love it. Sometimes I can be witty but the BEST ME is in the car saying to myself- "WHY didn't I say that back then" and not think of it in the car. Too late but made me happy .
I enjoy myself and like you- we must make happiness from within.
Then again I always say- "TODAY IS THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF MY LIFE. AND I LAUGH EACH AND EVERY DAY."
Jane,
This is one of my favorite writings. I am in awe of human behavior even with all its flaws. I love hearing about people's comments, reactions, and interpretations of events around them. Sometimes I scratch my head and think, "Am I the only sane person or am I the insane one?"
We can see you treat every situation with a touch of humor and refreshing insight.
Diane
This is one of the most enjoyable, best written, essays you've done, so far! I trust you will collect all these, engage a good editor and have it printed.
You have a wonderful ability to to describe the specific and turn it into the universal. And funny!!!! And you say things we'd all like to say---but fear reprisal! Love, Anita Keal
Well of course I have a comment, but most of them were covered by your avid fan readers. I think it's great that so many ARTCites are responding. I think back on our presentation of our letters to one another as a dramatic piece and how one of our members, (with a wild canine last name) thought my letters were to much about men in my past ( that's the delecate way of putting it). The Gerswins lived in the two PentHouses of my residence building. There is a plack on the outside wall that tells us when. How neat that Strunskys daughter Lenore married Ira. When as an about to be bride to my future, now x, we were looking for digs; this Building on the banks of the Hudson beconed me with its light filled view of Park & River, and the then Pallisades of that place called New Jersey . I could hear the music in it's walls and there was a Park across the Drive for the dog's. Now as you know I receive "BIRDS" all kinds from all over and sometimes the bringers must be told IT IS ABOUT THE BIRD Not You! I am the product who provides the service...........I think!
Jane, all the ladies who come with me every year LOVE your quick wit. I think each one secretly hopes you will throw a barb her way. Minnett
From observing the number of prompt responses ,I don't need to tell you that this blog is a winner; a veritible wind-sock that shows which way the wind is blowing (per our recent discourse!). I thank God for your fertile memory!!!and lament the retorts that you might have forgotten. I loved the above comment from the "about to be bride to my future ,now x"...so funny, THAT, too, just made me laugh. Thanks,Jane ... you light up my life.
Gotta love that rapier wit.
Even the guy on the bike
appreciated it! Those who are
affronted fail to appreciate
that your retorts are an art
form.
And yes, as I have been saying
for a while, these anectdotes
would make a great book.
Keep at it!!
I, too, would love to have your mastery of quick and pointed comebacks. Would love to have been on that tour of NYU. Love to get in on your encyclopedic knowledge of New York. I hope the heat wave has diminished. Excaped 98 degrees in Denver by going to Central City to see and hear Madame Butterly on 12 July. One of the best I've heard. Will be in Utah 16 July - 2 August.