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"The period was so much like the 1920's in that it became perfectly O.K. to flaunt wealth," Mr. Wolfe has said. He was prescient: the stock market collapse sent McCoy's colleagues reeling (although, despite his travails, McCoy still made a killing when he had to dispose of his Park Avenue apartment), and race dominated city politics (note the election of David N. Dinkins in 1989 as the city's first black mayor).
The morality play was rife with insights: the lunacy of a restaurant that took no reservations and kept patrons waiting in their limousines for a table, or the populist verdicts that elevated some criminals to folk heroes. "In a civil case," Mr. Wolfe wrote, "a Bronx jury is a vehicle for redistributing the wealth."
His research produced characters whose identities were so thinlyveiled (a judge patterned after Justice Burton Roberts and a lawyer after Edward Hayes) that they publicly basked in their fictional roles. "
Huffington Post says : "om Wolfe's 1987 satire of New York greed and racial tensions was originally published serially in Rolling Stone magazine. Wolfe used the book to pillory archetypal characters of 1980s New York, including Sherman McCoy, a millionaire bond trader, and Reverend Bacon, a coldly scheming political activist."
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"The period was so much like the 1920's in that it became perfectly O.K. to flaunt wealth," Mr. Wolfe has said. He was prescient: the stock market collapse sent McCoy's colleagues reeling (although, despite his travails, McCoy still made a killing when he had to dispose of his Park Avenue apartment), and race dominated city politics (note the election of David N. Dinkins in 1989 as the city's first black mayor).
The morality play was rife with insights: the lunacy of a restaurant that took no reservations and kept patrons waiting in their limousines for a table, or the populist verdicts that elevated some criminals to folk heroes. "In a civil case," Mr. Wolfe wrote, "a Bronx jury is a vehicle for redistributing the wealth."
His research produced characters whose identities were so thinlyveiled (a judge patterned after Justice Burton Roberts and a lawyer after Edward Hayes) that they publicly basked in their fictional roles. "
Huffington Post says : "om Wolfe's 1987 satire of New York greed and racial tensions was originally published serially in Rolling Stone magazine. Wolfe used the book to pillory archetypal characters of 1980s New York, including Sherman McCoy, a millionaire bond trader, and Reverend Bacon, a coldly scheming political activist."

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"Manchild" is dedicated to Eleanor Roosevelt and to the Wiltwyck School she founded for troubled youngsters, but he explains that he was ultimately saved only because he decided to save himself from a society of lost souls.
Reciting a litany of rebellion against the white establishment, he wrote: "I was rebelling every time I went to some place like the Children's Center, like the Youth House, like Wiltwyck, like Warwick. I was rebelling, man. And all I met in there were other young, rebellious cats who couldn't take it either.
"But nobody was winning. That revolution was hopeless. The cats who had something on the ball and they could dig it in time, they stopped. They stopped. They didn't stop being angry. They just stopped cutting their own throats."
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"Manchild" is dedicated to Eleanor Roosevelt and to the Wiltwyck School she founded for troubled youngsters, but he explains that he was ultimately saved only because he decided to save himself from a society of lost souls.
Reciting a litany of rebellion against the white establishment, he wrote: "I was rebelling every time I went to some place like the Children's Center, like the Youth House, like Wiltwyck, like Warwick. I was rebelling, man. And all I met in there were other young, rebellious cats who couldn't take it either.
"But nobody was winning. That revolution was hopeless. The cats who had something on the ball and they could dig it in time, they stopped. They stopped. They didn't stop being angry. They just stopped cutting their own throats."

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The book is a compelling rejoinder to prevailing cynicism that it makes no difference who wins because the rest of us lose anyway. "The Power Broker" spares no one, the press included, in its searing, if often one-sided, analysis of how Moses parlayed a series of seemingly obscure appointive jobs in city and state government (chairman of the State Power Authority and of the Triborough Bridge and Tunnel Authority, among others) into an empire that overwhelmed mayors and governors.
He practiced bulldozer diplomacy that, even as it created an impressive network of parks and highways, destroyed stable neighborhoods and accelerated middle-class flight to the undeveloped suburbs. Beyond the physical legacy, accomplished in an era unfettered by environmental laws and other legal impediments, was a political one: The popular backlash against his arrogance all but guaranteed that no successor would be granted the same leeway as the single-minded man whose favorite aphorism was, "If the ends don't justify the means, what does?"
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The book is a compelling rejoinder to prevailing cynicism that it makes no difference who wins because the rest of us lose anyway. "The Power Broker" spares no one, the press included, in its searing, if often one-sided, analysis of how Moses parlayed a series of seemingly obscure appointive jobs in city and state government (chairman of the State Power Authority and of the Triborough Bridge and Tunnel Authority, among others) into an empire that overwhelmed mayors and governors.
He practiced bulldozer diplomacy that, even as it created an impressive network of parks and highways, destroyed stable neighborhoods and accelerated middle-class flight to the undeveloped suburbs. Beyond the physical legacy, accomplished in an era unfettered by environmental laws and other legal impediments, was a political one: The popular backlash against his arrogance all but guaranteed that no successor would be granted the same leeway as the single-minded man whose favorite aphorism was, "If the ends don't justify the means, what does?"

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His book helps preserves a vanishing culture. Some of it has been absorbed into the New York idiom, just as every immigrant group before and since has contributed flavor to the ethnic stew. Other aspects of that culture, from the icons of the Yiddish theater to the suffering of Lower East Side mothers deserted by their husbands, have been all but forgotten, and bear remembering.
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His book helps preserves a vanishing culture. Some of it has been absorbed into the New York idiom, just as every immigrant group before and since has contributed flavor to the ethnic stew. Other aspects of that culture, from the icons of the Yiddish theater to the suffering of Lower East Side mothers deserted by their husbands, have been all but forgotten, and bear remembering.

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If some of their judgments seem too sweeping, they made a compelling case for each and for the role of political parties in assimilating successive groups of immigrants.
"The classic heterogeneity of great cities has been limited to the elite part of the population," they wrote, but "the heterogeneity of New York is of the masses." Even after the book was updated in 1970, Professor Glazer lamented that he had been laboring under a "New York illusion" that American-born blacks would replicate the immigrant experience and graduate from the ghetto. Ethnic identity, he said, "is pretty thin gruel compared to race."
Less durable was their assessment of Italian-Americans, whose cultural and social style, they said, produced attractive families, friendships and neighborhoods, though "somehow the ethos has not gone beyond that to create a presumption of leadership in city affairs."
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If some of their judgments seem too sweeping, they made a compelling case for each and for the role of political parties in assimilating successive groups of immigrants.
"The classic heterogeneity of great cities has been limited to the elite part of the population," they wrote, but "the heterogeneity of New York is of the masses." Even after the book was updated in 1970, Professor Glazer lamented that he had been laboring under a "New York illusion" that American-born blacks would replicate the immigrant experience and graduate from the ghetto. Ethnic identity, he said, "is pretty thin gruel compared to race."
Less durable was their assessment of Italian-Americans, whose cultural and social style, they said, produced attractive families, friendships and neighborhoods, though "somehow the ethos has not gone beyond that to create a presumption of leadership in city affairs."

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The collaborators viewed their challenge as keeping pace "with a dynamic metropolis that overnight replaces a century-old institution with a new triumph to modernity." But William H. Whyte suggests that the guide was "more a precious document to be preserved than a packet of information to be updated."
Of the old Madison Square Garden, it revealed: "On a good night, patrons eat 12,000 hot dogs, washed down with 1,000 gallons of beer and soda pop, while 60 private policemen, unarmed, are stationed there to prevent disorder."
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The collaborators viewed their challenge as keeping pace "with a dynamic metropolis that overnight replaces a century-old institution with a new triumph to modernity." But William H. Whyte suggests that the guide was "more a precious document to be preserved than a packet of information to be updated."
Of the old Madison Square Garden, it revealed: "On a good night, patrons eat 12,000 hot dogs, washed down with 1,000 gallons of beer and soda pop, while 60 private policemen, unarmed, are stationed there to prevent disorder."

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The book lacks stridency; it provides solid perspective on a series of conflicts that she traced to a school war between the Protestant establishment and immigrant Irish Catholics, which ultimately led to the establishment of a Board of Education and of a decentralized system that was vulnerable to abuse by ward bosses. So much for panaceas, whether invoked for the first time in the 19th century or reinvented in the 20th. And so much for education, which, perpetually, seems to have played a subordinate role to politics.
Still, the author remained optimistic, maintaining that the "effort to advance comity -- (that basic recognition of differences in values and interests and of the desirability of reconciling those differences peacefully) -- has always been at the heart of public education."
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The book lacks stridency; it provides solid perspective on a series of conflicts that she traced to a school war between the Protestant establishment and immigrant Irish Catholics, which ultimately led to the establishment of a Board of Education and of a decentralized system that was vulnerable to abuse by ward bosses. So much for panaceas, whether invoked for the first time in the 19th century or reinvented in the 20th. And so much for education, which, perpetually, seems to have played a subordinate role to politics.
Still, the author remained optimistic, maintaining that the "effort to advance comity -- (that basic recognition of differences in values and interests and of the desirability of reconciling those differences peacefully) -- has always been at the heart of public education."

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Mr. Thomas's mean streets are the ghetto and he is no dispassionate tour guide (so vivid are his accounts that the book was banned by a school district in Flushing, Queens). His itinerary includes the underside of El Barrio's rooftops and barrooms, its low life and the convicts he befriends and his fears in the prison where he served six years for armed robbery. Mr. Thomas's account may seem dated, even stereotypical. But his pain and lack of self-pity resonate in an enduring struggle for social mobility and against the siren call of quick cures. "The worlds of home and school were made up of rules laid down by adults who had forgotten the feeling of what it means to be a kid but expected a kid to remember to be an adult -- something he hadn't gotten to yet," Mr. Thomas wrote. "The world of street belonged to the kid alone. There he could earn his own rights, prestige, his good-o stick of living. It was like being a knight of old, like being 10 feet tall."
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Mr. Thomas's mean streets are the ghetto and he is no dispassionate tour guide (so vivid are his accounts that the book was banned by a school district in Flushing, Queens). His itinerary includes the underside of El Barrio's rooftops and barrooms, its low life and the convicts he befriends and his fears in the prison where he served six years for armed robbery. Mr. Thomas's account may seem dated, even stereotypical. But his pain and lack of self-pity resonate in an enduring struggle for social mobility and against the siren call of quick cures. "The worlds of home and school were made up of rules laid down by adults who had forgotten the feeling of what it means to be a kid but expected a kid to remember to be an adult -- something he hadn't gotten to yet," Mr. Thomas wrote. "The world of street belonged to the kid alone. There he could earn his own rights, prestige, his good-o stick of living. It was like being a knight of old, like being 10 feet tall."

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It is a timeless book that casually examines the three New Yorks, of the native-born, the commuter, and the out-of-towner, and concludes, reassuringly given the grousing more than four decades later, that "the city has never been so uncomfortable, so crowded, so tense."
In his foreword, White wrote that much had changed even in the few months since he had written his ode. "I wrote not only during a heat wave but during a boom. The heat has broken, the boom has broken, and New York is not quite so feverish now as when the piece was written. The Lafayette Hotel, mentioned in passing, has passed despite the mention. But the essential fever of New York has not changed in any particular, and I have not tried to make revisions in the hope of bringing the thing down to date. "To bring New York down to date," he wrote, "a man would have to be published with the speed of light."
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It is a timeless book that casually examines the three New Yorks, of the native-born, the commuter, and the out-of-towner, and concludes, reassuringly given the grousing more than four decades later, that "the city has never been so uncomfortable, so crowded, so tense."
In his foreword, White wrote that much had changed even in the few months since he had written his ode. "I wrote not only during a heat wave but during a boom. The heat has broken, the boom has broken, and New York is not quite so feverish now as when the piece was written. The Lafayette Hotel, mentioned in passing, has passed despite the mention. But the essential fever of New York has not changed in any particular, and I have not tried to make revisions in the hope of bringing the thing down to date. "To bring New York down to date," he wrote, "a man would have to be published with the speed of light."
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