The Agony and the Ecstasy of Steve Jobs

Mike's Daisey's monologue about his investigation into the human cost of Apple's electronics is an extraordinary show that can change the way its audiences think about the economic choices they make. But Daisey's aim is to get us to do more than just think.

Seeing him perform The Agony and the Ecstasy of Steve Jobs is the first step. We accept what he calls his virus, and now we need to pass it on.

THE REST OF THE STORY IS IN YOUR HANDS reads the headline of the handout audience members are offered on the way out of the show, urging us to join the struggle to get Apple and others to do right by their workers.

"Change is possible," Daisey writes. "You can speak. You can tell others this story . . . ." He gives us the email address for Apple CEO Tim Cook. Here's what I wrote to him:

Dear Mr. Cook:

From Mike Daisey's show and New York Times reports, I've been shocked to learn the details of just how abused and underpaid makers of Apple's electronic devices are--and about Apple's long history of irresponsible compliance with this exploitation.

I realize that the problem isn't just with Apple's products. But as a company whose consumers are passionate about its products and loyal to its brand, Apple is in a position to be a leader in transforming the way electronics are made.

I urge Apple to become responsible for ensuring that its suppliers pay their workers well and institute safe and humane working conditions.

As a shareholder, rather than getting a 5% dividend, I would willingly see that money go to Apple's workers and to improving the conditions in which they work. With 60% profits and your huge cash reserves, Apple has the wherewithal to easily accomplish this.

And becoming a symbol of a solution rather than of a huge global labor problem could only enhance Apple's reputation.

* * *

Mike Daisey is a brilliant performer, and if you haven't yet seen The Agony and the Ecstasy of Steve Jobs, playing through March 18 at the Public Theater in New York City, you should. See publictheater.org

But you can also download the transcript of the show for free at

http://mikedaisey.blogspot.com/p/monologues.html

Read it--and spread the virus.

What Bike New York’s Not Telling Us About the New, Improved Five Boro Bike Tour

It was the last day of lottery registration for the 2012 Five Boro Bike Tour—the annual event in which thousands of cyclists enjoy the thrill of cruising, albeit slowly, along carless roads, including the East River Drive and the Verrazano Narrows Bridge—and Bike New York, which runs the tour, had emailed me once again to remind me of the fact.

They sure wanted my $6—a nonrefundable fee just to be in the lottery—but they weren't going to get it.

Bike New York billed their new lottery, which would-be riders could enter from January 17 through February 7, as a “more fair and equitable chance of participating” than was the first-come-first-served system of the past that last year shut out anyone who didn’t bother to enter on the day registration opened. They even claimed to have instituted it because of “popular demand.”

But the brilliant thing about the lottery is that there’s no limit on the number of would-be riders from whom Bike New York can collect those $6 fees.

The tour is capped at 32,000 riders. Since that figure includes riders for charity who are required to raise a minimum of $750 and VIPs who pay $300, presumably the lottery slots will be limited to somewhat fewer, say, 30,000. If the lottery attracted 60,000 entries, that’s an extra $180,000 for Bike New York—not exactly chump change, though lottery losers may feel like chumps when they get their rejection emails a few weeks later.

In media coverage, Bike New York has disingenuously presented the lottery as a positive incentive to attract bicycling tourists. “The new lottery system will be promoted locally, nationally and abroad,” wrote Lisa Fickenscher in Crain’s New York last November.

But the truth is—and Bike New York hasn’t said a public word about this—out-of-towners did’t need the lottery, as long as they joined the right tour or meet-up group.

Velo Quebec Voyages is offering up to 200 cyclists who sign up before March 9 packages starting at $585 that include participation in the tour.

Last December 23, tripsite.com announced as Breaking News! “We have scored tickets for the 5 Boro Bike Tour in NYC and have reserved some rooms!”

In January I learned from a friend about a group in Virginia that had been promised guaranteed registration if the leader could pay Bike New York registration money for at least 20 riders by Friday, January 13. Twenty-eight of them signed up.

Last weekend, when friends from Boston said they had gotten in, I found myself wondering how.

The Five Boro Bike Tour has come a long way from its origins in 1977 as a day trip for 250 riders, sponsored by American Youth Hostels, to give high school students practice in bike safety. And its fees have come a long way as well, nearly doubling from $42 to $80.88 (including a required service charge) between 2007 and 2011—and now adding a fee imposed on local lottery losers as well as winners.

It seems that Bike New York has a new vision for the tour, not as a grassroots event, filled mainly with New York cyclists, but as a destination for affluent tourists—folks who can afford $550 for a two-night minimum at the Marriott New York Downtown, the only lodging recommendation listed on the organization’s website.

In his history of the tour on the Bike New York website, Steve Bauman concludes “the Tour has become a much-beloved springtime tradition for its participants—yet it still retains the simplicity and friendliness of the first ride.”

It’s just that the registration process is a little complicated and unfriendly—especially to locals.

A Tale of Two Events, Part II

ShowBiz Expo East

Exhausted though I was from concentrating on 144 performances by the end of TRU's Saturday auditions, I'd have returned to watch more on Sunday had I not already paid to attend ShowBiz Expo on Sunday.

It had been a few years since I'd taken in the Expo--a trade show held on East and West coasts, featuring all kinds of equipment and services for those working in film and theater.

Now and then I'd gone to a panel at the Expo, but mostly I'd just cruised the exhibits, which are free. In my film school days, I remember being dazzled by major equipment on display, grabbing copies of Variety, Hollywood Reporter, and all manner of other trade publications, and talking with reps of film offices from Montana to Oklahoma to Connecticut.

Last time I showed up at ShowBiz Expo, after not having been in a while, I wasn't willing to wait an hour in the huge, slow line of those who hadn't paid for priority admission.

This year, I decided to spend the $10 required to avoid the line, and also paid for a panel, a directory of attendees, and the after-party.

I was shocked by the difference since my last visit. The exhibition space had shrunk--and where were Hollywood Reporter, Kodak, and DuArt?

There were, however, many, many more vendors of services for actors than I remembered: headshots, workshops, etc. Ironically, I thought, given the opportunity TRU offered that very weekend, actors could pay for individual auditions.

The one panel I had paid to attend didn't match the description of what I had signed up for, and was, in effective, a promotional event for the two panelists' business, which should have been free.

I saw my fill of the exhibits in an hour or so and returned home.

The after-party, from 6:30 to 9:30 in a downtown lounge, had, for my taste, music that was too loud, light that was too low, and way too little food to accompany the open bar.

Luckily, I'd eaten a bit at the TRU auditors' reception, where I'd started the evening, and where, in retrospect, I should have lingered longer.

And I'd known that, arriving at the Expo party at 7:30, I risked missing the food.

"What food?" said a guy who'd been there since the beginning, when I asked how the food had been. "They just brought out a couple of few platters like that one."

"That one" was a plate-sized tray of tiny egg rolls. Maybe 20 minutes later, I encountered another of miniature, highly salted cakes of something meant to be crab.

I spoke with a beginning actress who had auditioned with her sister. "It wasn't what I expected," she said. "There was one guy, who I guess was a producer. My sister and I did our thing, and he didn't say a word." I wondered how much she'd paid for the privilege.

The last person I spoke with at the party--an exhibitor--gave me his opinion of the organizers' attitude: "We need to extract as much money as we can from these folks, and we have one day to do it."

Sounds about right, I thought.

I won't be back.

Danger at Jones Beach

Could New York's next helicopter disaster be at the beach?

Two Saturdays ago was a gorgeous day for beach-going--clear, sunny, not too hot or humid. Christine and I had arrived early at the west field of Jones Beach and were about to enter the water and play in the frothy waves, when we saw an ominous sight maybe a hundred yards from shore.

A helicopter swooped down with a rope ladder dangling below, and a guy at the end of the rope. Was he looking for a swimmer in trouble--or a body? Maybe he was being trained for something, we thought, when the copter dropped him in the water, and cruised away. Then we noticed that the guy was somehow back on the ladder.

The pleasure of the day had been darkened by what we'd just witnessed, whatever it was--that copter had been way too close to shore for comfort. We watched it fly out of sight before we ventured into the waves.

A couple of hours later, the copter was back, and this time we found out what it was doing: promoting the GI Joe movie.

Pretty outrageous--scaring the public, and perhaps endangering them, at what is actually public property: Jones Beach State Park.

I hope you'll join me in urging officials in charge to ban helicopters from flying low over our beaches for any but emergency purposes.

Messing with a Classic, Part I

I grew up eating Hellman's mayonnaise in or on many things--it was my family's dressing of choice for artichokes and asparagus. Recently Jim bought a jar of Hellman's that boasted olive oil as an ingredient. Oh, goody, I thought--it'll be even better. Boy, was I wrong!

Unfortunately, besides olive oil, this new Hellman's contains, of all things, sugar. Sugar in mayonnaise??? Sure, if you like it in scrambled eggs or you're a fan of Miracle Whip.

I'm now wondering whether the original Hellman's exists anymore. Luckily the Trader Joe's organic mayonnaise I bought recently is a good subsitute. No olive oil, but no sugar either. I'm about to eat some on broccoli.

Trashing the School Cafeteria

While folks in the film industry are trying to make film production more environmentally friendly, I've just seen signs of an opposite trend in New York City schools.

Last Friday, on my fifth substitute teaching gig, I found myself in a gloomy middle school basement cafeteria, where the trays are styrofoam, the utensils are disposable plastic, the floor gets covered with litter minutes after a janitor sweeps it, and even recyclables get tossed.

My forty minutes of cafeteria duty consisted mostly of gathering the kids' trays after they finished eating (or not eating), and tossing them, along with many uneaten apples.

Seems that this school instituted the teacher-as-busboy practice to prevent food fights, and according to the dean who told me about the policy, it's been working. "We've only had a couple of food fights since," he said.

Unfortunately, it's also teaching the kids that they're not responsible for cleaning up after themselves--a great addition to the model of environmental negligence that the failure to reuse and recycle provides.

I wonder whether teachers or students ever discuss the practices of their very own cafeteterias during the inevitable environmental unit--and whether there are any schools still using washable trays . . .

The Endless Commercial

A few Saturday nights ago, my boyfriend, Jim, and I watched "Saving Private Ryan" on TNT.
"More movie, less commercials" boasted the station's tagline. You mean "Fewer" I muttered upon noticing it, but two hours later, grammar was the least of my objections to the phrase.
The problem is, the only time you don’t see that tagline is DURING the commercials.

What this grossly misleading phrase really means: fewer commercials from the other guys, but one long, omnipresent commercial for the friendly station that's bringing you the movie–a station that insists on reminding you of its existence for every second of the film it's showing you.

Now whatever you might think about the merits of "Saving Private Ryan," it’s a movie that deserves better than to have its every frame branded with a broadcaster’s advertising.

TNT isn't the only station that does this. Recently, I watched enough of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" to ascertain that E! is among those who routinely violate the cinematic integrity of the films they show by plastering logos on them for the entirely length of the broadcast.

Yet another reason to watch movies where they were designed to be shown–or at least on DVD.