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What sort of person reads the New York Times? The comments section from a post about this morning's commuting issues on the paper's City Room blog might provide a clue. Since the Times doesn't seem to do it, we've gone ahead and picked out Gold Star recipients from the wealth of worthy insights the paper's readership provides. Enjoy!

Its a good thing we've spent all that money after 9/11 to fix up the communication system on the subways.Nobody at Atlantic Ave. knew what was being said.Were they speaking Chinese,its a joke !

Now you know where the sidewalk ends: Bay Ridge. Go figure.
PHOTO: Rebecca.

The best way to read the New York Times's Week In Review section is: On the beach, clad in just a Speedo, whilst smoking a cigar. Certainly the man pictured, an awesome snowbird named Dick Stern, agrees. On Sunday, we checked out the beach, as they say "out there." (For non-snobs, that means we went to Main Beach, which is pretty much an extension of East Hampton's Main Street.) Awkward photographer of the rich Laurel Ptak and I hit the dunes to find out what East Hamptonites read.

In the wake of the Minnesota bridge collapse, our very own Governor ordered a review of all the Empire State's spans. Guess what? Everything's falling apart! More than 2,000 are listed as "deficient," and, here in town, 16 of the 19 biggest bridges are only rated as fair or poor. Those assessments come from city inspections last year, so unless things can fix themselves, they're probably slightly worse. Among those receiving a rating of "poor" are the Tappan Zee and the Brooklyn Bridge. How bad is the city's most iconic overpass? Lori Ardito, first deputy transportation secretary, says it's not what you think.

For the second time this week, I got in a cab with a driver who did not understand this concept: "Greenpoint." Or, more shockingly: "the Williamsburg Bridge." Or! Actually! "THE BQE." Did a session of taxi school just end, I asked, trying hard not to actually slap myself in the face for not just getting out when I'd had the chance? "Yes," said the driver, "but I am a fast learner! I go one time to Greenpoint, I will always know how to get there." How very useful to me! And possibly to you, if you end up in this guy's cab wanting to go to that crazy place called Greenpoint, which is now one of the three places in Brooklyn (others: "Clinton Avenue" and "Pennsylvania Street") he knows how to get to. Also, it turns out that you can take a 24 hour, $85 course to prepare for the yellow cab licensing exam, which, clearly, cannot be very difficult. Long story short? Maybe it's time for us all to make like Zach Braff and get a bike.

Michael Grynbaum—Harvard boy, former New York Observer intern, former New York Sun intern!—spent the last five weeks tailing Mayor Bloomberg. And guess what? Everyone's favorite subway-taking, straphanger advocating, public-transportation loving mayor is a total fraud. Yes! Is crazy! Two big-ass S.U.V.s wait outside his house every day, and sometimes then they drive him 22 blocks to an express stop, passing two locals. Also? He only takes the subway twice a week at this point. The N.Y.P.D. pays for the cars and drivers, and no one's quite clear on why he needs two. Unless his giant head is detachable from his little short body?

Mayor Takes the Subway -- by Way of S.U.V. [NYT]

I am an American, New York-born. John Lindsay's name is on my birth certificate (although not as a claim to paternity). I've spent the majority of my life in this area. And like so many of us here in town, I've never been to the top of the Empire State Building, because, you know, it's for tourists. Also, who gives a fuck? That all changed this weekend, when, against my better judgment, I found myself on Fifth Avenue & 34th Street paying a ridiculous amount of money to look down on the city from the top of a big building in the company of several hundred non-deoderized foreigners. If you haven't been and are wavering, let me urge you not to go. It is a nightmare.

On the theory that "if it's inevitable, you may as well lay back and enjoy it," I dropped $42 on the "combination" ticket, which not only allowed access to the Observation Deck, but also provided a ticket to something called the "New York Skyride." Essentially, it's an IMAX-style movie where the floor rocks and swivels to give one the illusion of flight as the camera soars through the city to the dulcet tones of Kevin Bacon's narration, except "IMAX-style" is short for "crappy video shown on a really big screen," and the pneumatic elements of the ride would be laughable at one of those fly-by-night carnivals you see as you're on the bridge driving past the poorer of the outer-borough neighborhoods. Also, the film itself still includes the World Trade Center, as a "tribute to the spirit and resilience of New York" (and, presumably, an unwillingness to shell out any money to re-shoot).

Once we got out of that nightmare the real odyssey began. Getting to the top of the building is like some sort of torture designed by Soviet apparatchiki to crush the spirit of the citizenry. There are at least five interminable lines one waits on before one makes the final ascent (and, naturally, at each new line there's a brand new opportunity for the building's owners to take another twenty bucks from you in the form of souvenirs and digital photos). As we wended our way through the cattle-like queue on the 80th floor we cursed the fact that the Germans hadn't won the Second World War. Say what you will about them, they know how to move people through a line with ruthless efficiency.

Finally, one of the attendants came over and told us that, as it currently stood, we'd have to wait another half hour for an elevator, but we were free to take the stairs, which was a mere six flights. We jumped at the chance, and only started to regret it on the fourth "flight," a designation apparently meant by the good people at the Empire State Building to represent three separate sets of stairs. In the wake of 9/11, we spent a number of afternoons climbing down thirty stories in the building we then worked at; should someone ever hit the Empire State, it's pretty clear that no one from, say, the fiftieth floor on up is getting out alive. Cheering!

We made it to the Observation Deck, and after standing in, yes, another line, we were finally outside. Guess what? New York from the top of the Empire State Building looks pretty much like it does from every other skyscraper, except you're looking at it through a suicide-prevention cage and the couple standing next to you are jabbering in Spanish and edging you out of the way so they can get a picture of themselves making out with the East River in the background. Don't even get me started on the American tourists: Let's just say there's a reason they sell GIANT CUPS OF SODA at the entrance; God forbid Marge and Fred go a minute without sticking something sugary down their throat.

And yet, for a moment, we almost felt a kinship with them. We were all together, at the top of this iconic structure, as one mass of people all getting ripped off by the same organization. (Sort of like election day!) The feeling quickly faded as we began the tortuous process of our descent: These tubby folk deserved everything we got. As did we, to be sure. We should have known better. There's a reason New Yorkers don't do this sort of thing: It is not cool.

We're almost embarrassed to tell you that we did this, but we want you to learn from our mistakes. The next time some friend or relative comes to town and asks you to see them up, just point them in the direction of the building and retire to your own fire escape. It might not seem like much, but trust us, the view is priceless in comparison.

[Image: Getty]

At the end of last week the Financial Times ran an amusing "Dear Economist..." column. The premise of the feature is that it's a tongue-in-cheek advice piece from an economic perspective. Anyway, a gentlemen wrote that, as an immigrant in London, he always carries an umbrella with him, though the natives do not. When he offers to share space under the cover, "Foreigners always accept. Indeed, one New Yorker actually links her arm with mine as we walk. But those whose families have lived here for generations prefer getting soaked." Why, he wondered, is that the case?

Columnist Tim Harford replied:

[W]e disapprove of umbrellas, viewing them as befitting only Bulgarian assassins. What, after all, is an umbrella but a way of redirecting rain on to other people? The rim of spikes, too, went out with Queen Boudicca. London is a busy place; it would simply be unsupportable if the British behaved as you do. Until recently, a strong cultural norm dealt with this problem.

Dear Economist... [FT]

Here's the tally from yesterday's big bang: One dead, thirty injured (two severely). We're not sure what it says about where we're at when a statement from the mayor like this one is viewed as comforting ("There is no reason to believe this is anything other than a failure of our infrastructure") but there you have it. Oh, also, it may have rained asbestos all over midtown. Happy Thursday!

Steam Blast Jolts Midtown, Killing One [NYT] [Image: Jimmy]

Unfortunately, not all men at the Times look like Jeffrey Gettleman! (Pictured, here, shirtless. HELLO.) Still, some have managed to find love regardless. From our original list of Times couples, today we bring you additions and omissions both obvious and not. (More additions are, of course, welcome.)

Crusading anti-Bush (George, that is) Op-Ed columnist Frank Rich, as anyone who's seen the genius "Colour Me Kubrick" will recall, is married to Alex Witchel, who lately has been writing about food and Christine Ebersole. (Rich, of course, was the Times theater critic from 1980-1993, so maybe he gave her a few extracurricular edits if you know what we mean? Wink wink!).

Felicity Barringer, who's lately been writing about the environment for the National desk, is married to former Washington bureau chief Philip Taubman (who also wrote that book about the CIA, Secret Empire: Eisenhower, the CIA, and the Hidden Story of America's Space Espionage, a few years ago). Taubman was replaced by former Los Angeles Times editor Dean Baquet as bureau chief in January, and is now an "associate editor" of the paper based in California. His job also entails working as an investigative reporter covering national security issues.

Jack-of-all-trades/deputy culture editor Rick Lyman (who most recently has been writing obits, plus whatever the hell else he seems to want to cover), is married to Metro stringer Barbara Whitaker.

And Styles editor Trip Gabriel (who, we hear, makes it into his desk by 8:30 a.m. every day from his home in fancypants Pound Ridge), is married to Alice Gabriel, who writes freelance food articles for the paper, mostly about places in Westchester County, which is probably why you've never heard of her. Which also means the Gabriels probably eat very well!

But really, we just wanted an excuse to run that photo of Jeffrey Gettleman. Don't hate us.

We hear that Hollywood reporter Sharon Waxman, who's been based in Los Angeles for years (before her stint at the Times, she wrote for the Washington Post from the West Coast), will definitely be joining Joe "Private Dancer" Sexton's Metro desk when her book leave is over later this year. (Until now, Sexton had not committed to taking her on.) We've heard (from a single source) that Waxman will be on the religion beat. Her current editor, Culture honcho Sam Sifton, said he wouldn't comment on personnel matters, to us "or to anyone else." Waxman responded via email from Cairo, where she is doing research on her book: "I have no comment because Gawker has not shown itself to function by accepted journalistic rules."

Now that every department at the New York Times has moved into the new building, you're probably wondering where everyone has gone! So let's go floor-by-floor, shall we? And as we work our way up, we'll see who really matters in the Times organization.

Well! Probably not Larry Ingrassia and his Business staff—like David Carr, Joe "Near-Death Experience" Sharkey, and soon, ex-TV Newser Brian Stelter—who are stuck way down on 2 (maybe they sold it to them as "bad views, but a short way down in case of emergency"?). Sharing that floor are various research/administrative-y departments like contracts and news surveys and database reporting, but also fun desks like Escapes/Travel; Investigative, which is run by former "Our Towns" Metro columnist Matthew Purdy; the Science desk (presumably where counterintuitivist John Tierney hangs his hat); and the wacky dudes of Sports. Oh, and Week in Review also gets its own corner on 2.

On 3, we've got a real newsy smorgasboard: City Weekly (hey, Jake Mooney! What's up, Jennifer Bleyer!), the clerical staff, the Continuous News Desk (they still have those?), Alison Mitchell's Education desk (where we presume ethics-loving and Jew-struggling Sam Freedman probably has a cubicle), the Foreign desk (the editors, we assume? If everyone else is, you know, in a foreign country?), and hip-hop and memo loving Joe Sexton's Metro staff—like Clyde Haberman, overwriter Michael Brick, weather poet Robert D. McFadden, and Peter Braunstein-chronicler Anemona Hartocollis. We're not done, though—also crowded into the third floor are the National desk, led by Times lifer Suzanne Daley (though, like the Foreign desk, most of her reporters are scattered in various places); the News Administration, News Design, and the simply named "News Desk" desks; Obituaries, where advance writer Marilyn Berger toils away, presumably maintaining the office celebrity death pool; the limping Regional Edition; and WQXR, the Times-owned classical music station.

Most important, though, is that the "Masthead" also lives on 3. Who, or what, is the "Masthead" desk? Why, simply the Most Important Editors of Our Time, such as executive editor Bill Keller, managing editors Jill Abramson and John Geddes, and deputy managing editor Jonathan Landman, who've clustered in a corner of the floor to protect themselves from the unwashed masses.

Up on 4, we've got Sam Sifton and his Culture clique—Alessandra Stanley, Bill Carter, Virginia Heffernan, Jon Pareles, Kelefa "K" Sanneh, etc.—who share space with a bunch of other features-y departments. We've got Trish Hall's Home section, which, of course, is not just for rich people! This floor is also where Pete Wells holds court over the Dining section, which is home to sometime bartender Frank Bruni, cheapskate Peter Meehan, and food-world gossipper Florence Fabricant; the Real Estate section, which hopefully will never again publish a front-page story printed at an angle like they did the other week; "Special Sections"; the TV Studio; and (drumroll!) WASPy Jew Trip Gabriel and his Styles minions. This, we imagine, is where the real decisions at the Times get made. It's where Stephanie Rosenbloom sits at her cubicle, calling her mom. Where Guy Trebay and Eric Wilson get into catfights over who's wearing the skinniest pants. Where Cathy Horyn swans into the office in a conceptual muumuu. Where "society editor" Bob Woletz has the power to decide which couples shall receive an announcement the paper's Weddings section, and which shall die a certain social death.

Moving on! On 5, ensconced with, undoubtedly, many bookshelves, we've got New York Times Book Review editor Sam Tanenhaus and his staff, including Paper Cuts blogger and "Inside the List" columnist Dwight Garner, deputy editor Bob Harris, and assorted other book review staff.

On 6 and 7 is Gerald Mazorati and Alex Star's New York Times Magazine—plus the various incarnations of T, Play, Key, and whatever other one-word glossies they're incubating over there. The Art department also has space on 7. And most of the Editorial staff of NYTimes.com, including Digital News Editor Jim Roberts, lives on 9.

Our friends on the editorial page—editor Andrew Rosenthal, deputy editors Carla Robbins and David Shipley, and Letters editor Thomas Feyer—have taken up residence on 13, which they share with some ad operations people from NYTimes.com.

The Morgue has, sadly, been sent off-site, to the Times offices at 230 W. 41st St.

Times spokeswoman Catherine Mathis and her corporate communications cronies are on 17, which they share with the controller's office and part of the executive committee (scary!), part of which is also on 16. Now we're getting to some potentially good views. On 18, we've got the corporate secretary, the "forest products group" (uh, paper?), legal, blah blah. The 19th and 20th floors are home to Ad Sales (and a herd of mice). Then, on 22, which is the very top Times floor (the rest of the building has been leased to fancy law firm Goodwin Procter) are what, clearly, are the most important departments in the place: Circulation and Finance. Just remember that.

Say you want to have one of those low-stress, non-Bridezilla weddings. You know: Your high school pal serves as the rabbi, your fave gay whips up a nice chuppah, and everybody just shows up and has a ball. If you're Times deputy editor for online journalism Ariel Kaminer, you even hire a pal to do the catering—his very first wedding job! Except your caterer, one Montgomery Knott, the hipster-genius behind MonkeyTown in Williamsburg and member of Stars Like Fleas, went and got arrested on Friday, the day before the wedding. It was for a "bench warrant that shouldn't have been a bench warrant" said Mr. Knott this afternoon by phone, somewhat cryptically. "Apparently Brooklyn arrests more people than any other bureau." (Um, GOOD.) So he did his 20 hours—which plunged the wedding into the sort of chaos that forced Times restaurant critic Frank Bruni to bartend, with Times chief art critic Michael Kimmelman as his bar back. Still the "candied bacon balls" were sorta tasty, guests said. They were like gobstoppers... made of bacon?

Joe "Private Dancer" Sexton sent out a memo to his Metro staff this morning about City Room, the new blog headed up by Times favorite son Sewell Chan. Things are going swimmingly! Except it seems that some reporters need more than a gentle nudge to start contributing: "Expect that Sewell and Patrick and Jim and Lexi and I will be reaching out to you. We need breaking news updates; supplemental material that didn't make its way into the paper; off-the-beat observations and anecdotes; links to primary sources like Web pages and PDF's that can help the reader who wants more context; and more. Sometimes it's as simple as a phone call or email to us." (Wonder how the union feels about all that?) But Sexton, unlike Rick Stengel over at Time, hasn't resorted to threatening his reporters if they don't contribute to the website. Yet. The full memo follows.

From: joe sexton Subject: A Call to Arms (and legs and ears and eyes and hearts and minds) Date: Mon, 02 Jul 2007 11:53:58 -0400

To: The Staff From: Joe Sexton

City Room is now a little more than two weeks old. It has produced a lot of variety, been visually interesting, and, shit, readers seem to like it. We've had a mix of breaking news, enterprise and feature material, links to other sites, reader service and discussions. More than 175 posts in the earliest days with 1,613 reader comments (the Empire Zone only had 11,000 over its 14-month life span).

We've been told a post about a brief blackout on the East Side was the most-read blog post on the Web site that day. We told readers about the blackout and then we told them it was over before radio and TV even had any information. We also had the first announcement of Bloomberg's plan to drop his Republican affiliation, and covered the story as it unfolded in a partnershp with the National Desk, the Caucus blog and the Continuos News Desk.

But it's not all about breaking news. We've unveiled some regular features including Jonathan Hicks's column Politics 5B from the front lines of borough and neighborhood political fights, Maria Newman's column on news from summer getaways from Cape May to the Hamptons, a Taking Questions feature that drew a huge reader response on the issue of congestion pricing and other transportation issues.

Jim Dao, Patrick and Sewell have been having breakfasts with several reporters, but it's worth reiterating that the project needs the help of the whole Metro staff. If you want to find out more, reach out. But expect that Sewell and Patrick and Jim and Lexi and I will be reaching out to you. We need breaking news updates; supplemental material that didn't make its way into the paper; off-the-beat observations and anecdotes; links to primary sources like Web pages and PDF's that can help the reader who wants more context; and more. Sometimes it's as simple as a phone call or email to us.

City Room clearly gives readers a chance to talk with each other, but also to us; we want to use City Room to generate tips, story ideas, angles of inquiry.

City Room, to state the important and the obvious, helps to raise the Metro staff's profile and promote the work of our reporters; because many people end up on our blogs through search engines or other blogs, City Room can extend the Metro report's reach to readers who don't get the print edition or regularly read NYTimes.com.

I close with some highlights, and with a last encouragement to get involved.

- "The Rising Cost of Meat on a Stick" ­ a photo-only blog post by Uli Seit, showing an Astoria vendor's sign warning customers about the $2.50 souvlaki

- Dalton Walker's post on yoga in the middle of Times Square, along Willie Davis's photo, is one of the main featured items on the main home page for several hours, drawing more than 130 comments

- Video journalist Geoff McGhee, accompanying Willie Neuman into the subway tunnels of Brooklyn, shows readers the perilous sounds and images that track workers experience daily.

- Ken Belson tracked down Takeru Kobayashi, the world's hot-dog-eating champion, and interviewed him -- in Japanese, no less -- on his mysterious jaw pain (a wisdom tooth turns out to be the culprit) for a City Room exclusive.

- Kim Severson, from Dining, quickly dissected a City Hall press release about trans fats and explained why the elimination of the frying medium from 83% of the city's restaurants isn't so surprising -- or such a big deal -- after all.

- Al Baker wrote up a transcript of his fascinating interview with Ray Kelly over the old wooden police sawhorses, which we published in full.

- Al Baker also took a story that probably wouldn't have made the paper -- the theft of a silver reliquary, containing a saint's ankle bone, from a Greek Orthodox cathedral in Astoria -- and turned it into a neat blog post.

- Jo Craven McGinty did a quick analysis of Census data and discovered that the Orthodox village of Kiryas Joel has been the state's fastest-growing community this decade -- which in turn became a story for the print edition the next day.

Joe

Oh, downtown, we love your little kielbasa storefronts and fly-by-night mailbox huts and your crazy houses of coffee. We've worried about the new giant Walgreen's moving into Astor Place where the wine store was—as if the K-Mart wasn't enough, right by the two Starbucks! The chain stores will destroy all our independent businesses. And guess what? Maybe the small businesses deserve it!

Last evening, the staff of the New York Times bid their old building at 229 West 43rd St. one final farewell. Staffers were allowed to bring one guest and were asked to bring their own food and wine (beer and soft drinks were readily available), though it turned out that Pinch had sprung for a whole bunch of pizza. Whew. Our correspondent reports that Metro editor Joe Sexton has some sweet hip-hop moves. Get your head around that one. The full report follows!

The other day, Radar reported on the new Times building, saying that "one section of the fourth floor, housing the education reporters, among others, lies so far removed from the rest of the building that its occupants have put up a sign reading "Welcome to Outer Mongolia." Ha! It's actually the third floor, though, and the sign reads "You Have Reached Outer Mongolia. Welcome!" And there are also a few Metro reporters scattered in there as well. One Times employee describes the education reporters as "out of the loop and humorously disgruntled about it." Thank goodness the critics aren't out there; they'd just be weepy.

Like the Great Barrier Reef, New York City has its own critters that come and vacuum up our waste. Meet the freegans! They have fun dinner parties, where they eat things from the trash and talk about the errors of capitalism, and they scurry out of their caves at night to take away that Ikea crap that surrounds the N.Y.U. dorms. Gosh, it'd be so easy to make fun of them for being so totally gross, except they're gonna be the ones to survive the apocalypse. And who'll be laughing then? And unlike the "no impact" green fools, at least they probably scavenge for toilet paper. See you in the dumpsters!

Not Buying It [NYT]
Events [Freegan.info]

Somewhere at the nexus of self-promotion/congratulation, reflexive ass-kissing, and totally charming genuine enthusiasm is New York Times metro reporter Jenny 8. Lee's new website. As we learned a while back, her new book used to be called The Long March of General Tso, but apparently that title was too confusing—there was some concern that people would think it was a book about the Chinese military. Because people are stupid. Now it's called the Fortune Cookie Chronicles, which should play better on the "synagogues and college campuses" Jenny plans on hitting on her book tour. Also, it seems that Jenny is an overachiever—her editor, Jon Karp, had contracted her for 90,000 words, and it looked like she was going to be 20,000 over. But Karp told her not to worry, as they could just change the typesetting: "Perhaps you did something similar in high school when you had to turn in a term paper." Uh, right. We were always turning in papers that were just too long. Anyway: Watch that space! She'll be posting cat pictures within weeks.

The Fortune Cookie Chronicles

In May of 2006, New York Times Metro editor Joe Sexton—you remember him as the guy who so unreasonably begged his reporters to come into the office once in a while and be nice to him—announced the appointment of Jennifer Preston as the editor of the new Regional Weeklies at the Times. It sounded like Preston was going to singlehandedly save not only the Times Regional editions, but possibly all of print media; Sexton described her as a "true New York Times patriot," someone who was "irrepressible, unconquerable, utterly loyal." Now Sexton has sent a memo to the newsroom that says he's becoming more active in recruiting writers in the sections.

Today's Post notes that the New York Yankess are 9-2 since the stunning revelation that Alex Rodriguez was getting some on the side. The paper semi-facetiously suggests that they deserve some of the credit, seeing as it was their fine organ of journalism that exposed A-Rod's a-dultery. It's an interesting theory and one that, if true, offers up some tantalizing possibilities for metro-area sports fans. We're certainly not endorsing the idea, mind you, but maybe Giants quarterback Eli Manning should get married and start cheating on his wife as soon as possible before the season starts. The SuperBowl may be just one errant screw away!

YANKS' SURGE STARTED WITH 'STRAY-ROD' [NYP]

After Metro editor Dean Chang and National editor Mark Mooney got canned from the Daily News, the Post's Keith Kelly said the following day that the firings were part of a panicked strategy by editor-in-chief Martin Dunn to please owner Mort Zuckerman. Kelly pointed out that Dunn's contract expires in the "fourth quarter of this year"—but it's sooner than it sounds, as sources tell us the contract actually expires in October, the beginning of the fourth quarter. It seems to us that Dunn would like his contract renewed, so surely he'll have to show Zuckerman some bigger circ and revenue increases than the News has been pulling in lately. But! Two features staffers have left in the last two weeks, and sources say that it's only a matter of time until Mooney's favorite staffers are shown the door.

This weekend Madison Park was taken over by legions of barbecue lovers. They tend to be a lot like you or me but of slightly larger proportions and more catholic taste. It was the annual Big Apple BBQ—and a careful observer had ample chance to note, first hand, the slow descent along the Glasgow Coma Scale and the yearning distended beauty of a tie dye shirt stretched to the limits of its fiber by an ample gut. The park was ringed with people madly stuffing their mouths with meat. There was a lost dead head freaking out and an old cougar without a blouse. We sent Josh, because he is poor on the inside, and Laurel Ptak, the photographer behind the extremely edifying Connecticut Ivy Cup travelogue, to make you feel good about being a vegetarian.