Lights Out And Broken Glass

We often say, "There's good news and bad news..."

Well, on this date in history, there is a bad event and a terrible one.  Neither relates directly to cycling, so if you want to skip today's post, I understand.

Anyway, I'll start with the bad news in history.  It's an event I remember pretty well, especially given how young I was. If you are of a certain age, you might have lived through it, too.

On this date in 1965, it was "lights out."  Yes, that's the literal truth:  The lights went out in the northeastern US and the Canadian province of Ontario.  It was the result of failures in power generating station, beginning with one near Niagara Falls.  



My family and I were living in Brooklyn.  We weren't in the dark for as long as some nearby areas:  Around 11 pm, power gradually returned, after about six hours without.  O the other hand, some parts of Manhattan and other boroughs and states didn't have "juice" until the following morning.

In some senses, we were lucky:  It was a classic autumn evening, crisp but not too cold.  More important, perhaps, were the clear skies and full moon.  People did what they could outdoors, but some homes (including ours) had at least some light coming through our windows.

And, even all of these years later, I recall how calm and even helpful most people were.  My father couldn't get home from work, as the subways stopped running,  but he was able to call us from a pay phone (Remember those?)  and assured us he was OK.  There were also some funny stories, like the one about people who got stuck in Macy's furniture department and slept on the showroom beds.

Such an atmosphere was in contrast to another blackout a dozen years later that affected mainly New York City.  It was a hot summer night and that year, it seemed, the city was in chaos, what with Son of Sam was shooting and the Bronx was burning.  Well, it seemed that the gates of Hell or some Freudian subconscious opened:  More fires were set, and stores all over the city were looted.  New Pontiacs were driven off a dealers' showroom on Jerome Avenue in the Bronx; the Brooklyn neighborhood of Bushwick suffered devastation from which it would not recover for another three decades.  Lots of glass was broken that night.

And on the night of 9 November 1938 as well. Many fires were set, too.  On this date in 1938, what is often seen as the opening salvo of World War II occurred.  At the very least, it changed the nature of hatred in a nation.  Up to that time, Jews in Germany, Austria and other European countries were losing their rights--if they had them in the first place--in much the same ways African Americans lost rights during the Jim Crow era.  (I am not the first to draw this parallel; some scholars have said as much.)  For a brief shining period--about a decade or so--after the US Civil War, newly-freed slaves and their descendents enrolled in schools and universities, earned licenses to practice nearly every kind of trade or profession (including medicine and law) and were even elected to public office.  Those rights were withdrawn, as they were for Jews, and worse things came.

In the US, the Ku Klux Klan as well as other groups and individuals intimidated, harassed, beat and even killed black people who stepped out of "their place."  The Jews of the Reich didn't even have to do that:  On this date eight decades ago, bands of Nazis--as well some freelance thugs--destroyed synagogues and Jewish businesses all over Germany and Austria.  The police were under orders to do nothing except prevent injury to Aryans and damage to Aryan-owned homes and businesses.  

Although Jews were harassed, beaten and even killed--and their homes, businesses and synagogues vandalized--before this date, this event--known as Kristallnacht, the "night of broken glass"--marked the first mass, systematic terrorization of Jews.  And it shifted the means of expressing hatred of Semitic people from the legal and social to outright physical violence.  That night, more than 100 Jews were killed and 30,000 able-bodied men were arrested and sent to death camps in Dachau, Sachsenhausen and Buchenwald. (Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen had not yet opened.) Thus began the first mass deportations of Jews (and other "undesirables") to the camps: Until then, the arrests and deportations were less numerous and widespread.

In the US, citizens were outraged--at least for a while.  Newspaper editorials condemned the violence; no less than the New York Times suggested that the German government instigated the violence to line its coffers, both with the possessions seized--and fines levied on--Jews:  "Under a pretense of hot-headed vengeance, the government makes a cold-blooded effort to increase its funds."

Yes, the Jews were forced to pay for the violence they "instigated."  Sadly, Nazis and their followers in the Reich weren't the only ones who believed that the Jews brought it on themselves:  Father Charles Coughlin, and influential Catholic priest, said as much in his radio broadcasts, which reached tens of millions of Americans when the nation's population was about a third of what it is now.

Worse, though, was the initial inaction of the US government and others with power and influence.  At least some of it was a result of unconcious anti-Semitism, but I think a larger reason was that, for one thing, by that time, more Americans came from German ancestry than any other.  And people whose parents and grandparents came from other nations simply couldn't--or weren't willing to--believe that such systematic brutality could happen in "the land of Mozart".

Homes and synagogues burned as glass was broken and the lights went out.  I guess my family and city were lucky twenty-seven years later:  Our lights went out, but there was no broken glass.  And nothing burned.

What He Couldn't Win

During his career, Marty Nothstein won a lot of races.  But he couldn't win one on Tuesday night.

Most of his victories came on the velodrome, including the gold medal he won as a sprinter in the 2000 Olympics.  The following year, he turned professional and met with considerable success on the road.  In doing so, he defied common wisdom (Is that an oxymoron?) that said a sprinter couldn't stand up to the long distances of road racing.

The other night, however, he couldn't defy the odds or common wisdom.  He ran as the Republican candidate to represent Pennsylvania's 7th Congressional District.  Although 20 of its previous 25 representatives have come from Nothstein's party, his Democratic opponent, Susan Wild, was favored to win the election, in part because district was redrawn.

I am not a political scientist or analyst, but it seems to me that most of the district's Republican representatives were moderates.  Indeed, the most recent rep, Pat Meehan--who resigned in April amidst scandal--even supported the reauthorization of the Violence Against Women Act, which most of his party opposed.  Perhaps it's not surprising that politicians like him would represent the district, which includes the blue-collar areas near the oil refineries of Marcus Hook and Trainer, as well as the Main Line and Haverford College.  

Such an area seems like fertile ground for a backlash against President Trump--which, of course, people expressed, in accordance with expectations, by voting against his party.  So, it really wasn't such a surprise when Marty lost that race.

He might, however, win a consolation race, if you will:  He and Wild are locked in a dead heat for a special election to finish the term of Charlie Dent, who retired as representative of the neighboring 15th District.  If he wins, Marty will represent that district until the end of this year.

After that...well, maybe he'll win another race.  He still cycles and has also driven hot rods to victory.  If nothing else, he's a competitor.  

Now, about his--ahem-- party affiliation....

How Bad Can A Bike Lane Be?

How bad are the Middle Street bike lanes in Portsmouth, New Hampshire?

Not having ridden them, I don't really know.  But I can tell you this:  They've been panned by both motorists and cyclists.  Oh, and school kids aren't crazy about them, either.

Drivers made at least one of the usual criticisms:  They took away two of "their" lanes.  Perhaps more to the point, though, the bike paths force them, as one driver pointed out, to cross the double yellow line dividing northbound from southbound traffic when passing.  Also, the buses don't have a place to pull over when picking up or discharging passengers.

The pupils' dislike of the lanes was observed by attorney Charles Griffin.  At a meeting of the city's Parking and Traffic Safety Committee, he recounted his own informal survey, taken from his car.  He sat at one intersection between 7:50 and 8:20 am--the time during which most kids are going to school--on 15 mornings. "On two days, there were two students;  on seven days there were (sic) one student; on six days, no students at all. Most kids who rode their bikes to school, he said, used the sidewalk instead of the bike lane.  "I suspect they did because they didn't feel safe" using the lane "because it's too close to traffic," he speculated.

This was a poignant criticism, from the city's standpoint, because one of the arguments used to sway reluctant community members was that the lanes "would result in significant numbers" of kids riding to and from school, according to Griffin.

As an educator, I understand that young people often know more than we realize.  That point was underscored by cyclist Roger Peterson who complained about debris, including wet leaves, in the lane.  On his ride to the meeting at City Hall, he said, he also saw recycle bins scattered throughout the lane.

But if that were the only problem with the lanes, it could be fixed by maintenance. His and other cyclists' main issue, he said, is that the lanes are "very narrow and restrictive." Before the lanes were built, Peterson said, Middle Street "seemed to be one of the safest roads in the city."  The street was "wide enough" for cyclists "to avoid traffic and for traffic to avoid the bicycles," he explained.

"It's puzzling as to why a bicycle lane was put in there," he addded.

I could make--and have made--the same criticisms, almost verbatim, about some of the bike lanes I've ridden here in New York and other American locales.  Sometimes it is actually safer to have enough room on the street for cyclists and motorists to maneuver around each other than it is to have a lane that restricts both cyclists' and motorists' movements.  Moreover, making turns--especially right turns--or going straight through an intersection when motor vehicles (especially trucks) are turning right is actually more dangerous when a cyclist has to leave a bike lane than it is if he or she is riding continuously along a street or road.

The worst part is that such lanes actually increase tensions between cyclists and motorists:  The latter believe that  lanes "take" "their" roadway away from them, while the former become frustrated with motorists' impatience.  This could lead to city planners and administrators deciding that no bicycle infrastructure project is worthwhile and to removing whatever good infrastructure might have been created.

As I said previously, I've never ridden the Middle Street bike lanes.  So, in all fairness, I don't want to suggest that they are worse than other lanes, including some I've ridden.  But I can't recall hearing of another lane that received such resounding criticisms from both cyclists and motorists.  And those criticisms are an accurate reflection of the misconceptions--and, sometimes, sheer folly--behind the planning and building of bike lanes.