Shake Shack vs. Roscoe Conkling

Sorry for the longish absence, but I'm ready for more.

Last night, finding myself with a spare hour and being in the vicinity, I stopped in Madison Square Park, specifically at Shake Shack. A beautiful summer night, so you can imagine what I encountered: a line stretching back to Western Samoa, full of eager New Yorkers clamoring for a taste of St. Louis–style comfort-food trendiness.
I'm always bemused by this. I mean, Shake Shack's burgers are pretty good, the shakes are tasty, the concretes are interesting, but this is hype of an egregious order. Especially in New York, where we have plenty of superior burger options, sans the pack mentality. (If you never have, try this place. Now. Seriously.)

No monster wait for me: I wasn't particularly hungry, so I took a place in the "B line" express lane (about one fiftieth the length of the A) and ordered a small lemonade. And I sat, and enjoyed my very tasty lemonade, and watched the line, still reaching intergalactic proportions at 9pm. And I noticed this:

It's a statue of Roscoe Conkling (1829–1888), the most powerful figure in New York State politics in 1860s–1880s period. Here's a better look:
Nice facial hair, keeping with the American-statesman archetype of the post–Civil War period. Conkling was the leader of the "Stalwart" faction of the Republican party in those years, opposing the "Half-Breeds," led by your homie and mine, "the Plumed Knight" James G. Blaine. And what a battle it was: Conkling & Co. were more in favor of the machine-style patronage politics that we all know and hate, while the Half-Breeds made halfhearted stabs at civil-service reform. On the other hand, Conkling's team was considered more "radical," in that they favored full equality for African-Americans (well, male African-Americans, at least) and harsher punishment for the defeated South. The Democrats didn't matter much at the time, having backed the wrong horse in the war.

Conkling did it all: mayor of Utica, member of the House of Representatives, enthusiastic backer of Ulysses S. Grant, major deal-making U.S. Senator, dark horse candidate for President in 1876 (he ended up throwing his support behind eventual winner and even darker horse Rutherford B. Hayes, a Half-Breed who was a compromise candidate over the hated Blaine). Conkling was even nominated for the Supreme Court and confirmed, yet declined to take his seat, which makes me wonder why anyone would go through all that trouble. Plus, he helped to write the 14th Amendment to the Constitution, which anti-immigrant wackos are currently talking about repealing, so if they really want to make that happen, they'll have to go through Conkling's ghost first.

Basically, if you wanted to get anywhere in the Republican party in the 1870s and '80s, you had to genuflect at the feet of Mr. Conkling, and his legacy among the political trivia of that era in our country's history is broad. To placate the the Stalwarts, the party made Hayes take as his running mate a nobody upstate New York congressman named William Wheeler; four years later, a similar maneuver gave the VP slot to Conkling's protégé, Chester A. Arthur, "the Mutton-Chop King."
In fact, Conkling and Arthur were so tight, when James Garfield was murdered (by Charles Guiteau, easily the most interesting assassin in American history, though don't get me started), some believed it was a plot engineered by Conkling to put his boy in the big chair. It wasn't, and when Arthur turned out to be a somewhat competent chief exec dedicated to civil-service reform, the two had a serious falling out and never made peace.

I'm rambling here, hopefully interestingly so, but the point is this: That statue of Conkling directly overlooks the interminable Shake Shack line, and I have to wonder if this bothers anyone. Despite all he did for our state's history (good or ill), his most prominent legacy now is that thousands of people stare at him while grumbling about tourists and lead-footed burger flippers. Is there a Conkling Historical Society somewhere that has protested this, a monumental (pun!) trivialization of his life of distinction? Did Danny Meyer consider this before he built the Shack at this exact place? And, to get a little supernatural for a moment, what if the soul of Conkling is trapped in the statue, and he is forever fated to watch the slothlike movement of yuppies and hipsters awaiting greasy slabs of meat? Is this his private hell for fattening his own and his buddies' coffers at the expense of the public good? Stop chewing that Burger Joint burger, then discuss.

The New York City Clash of the Trivia Champions UPDATE

So registration for the New York City Clash of the Trivia Champions is live, and we already have a handful of the BQT's most competitive teams signed on. Teams of four, $100 per team to play—Monday, September 27 at the Highline Ballroom. But I've also had a couple of specific questions that I figure I'll cover here:

— Is there a deadline to register? Not officially. There's a 60-team limit, so as soon as we've reached that number, registration will be closed. We're nowhere near there yet, and if we are approaching the magic number, I'll warn you through the usual channels. But still, don't freak me out and wait till the last minute.

— $1,000 for first place? What else? As advertised, the winning team will also receive a really sweet trophy. And yes, they will keep that trophy, even if we do a championship again next year. How's that for magical? Second place will get $400, third place is getting a super-secret but very valuable prize, and we're planning for a lot more: We're canvasing for sponsors, so we hope to have plenty of worthwhile goodies. (Not official yet, but after last Friday, I got a good lead on a season pass for the Coney Island Cyclone.) If you rep someone who might have something worth giving away in exchange for promotion, e-mail info@bigquizthing.com.

— Is it just going to be BQT regulars? Of course not. We're hard at work spreading the word throughout the city, and we're seriously hoping to get the top teams from the city's bottomless well of bar trivia nights. Want to help spread the word? E-mail info@bigquizthing.com and earn free admission to a non-Championship BQT.

— Another question that Quizmaster Noah can't anticipate here. Visit here or e-mail info blah blah blah, and I'll fill your brain. Deal?

TONIGHT: T-Shirt Contest & Fashion Show is ON!

A reminder/update about tonight's Coney Island Cyclone T-Shirt Design Contest and Fashion Show. It is indeed on, despite the rain, although the location is being shifted slightly: It'll now be at the near-legendary Ruby's Old Tyme Bar & Grill, 1213 Boardwalk on the Coney, a short jaunt from the Stillwell Avenue subway stop. It has tons of great, greasy food, and is conveniently located just steps from the Shoot the Freak concession. Most of the details here still apply: It's still 6 to 8pm, I'm still hosting and doing a little local trivia, we'll determine what the new official T-shirt design for the Cyclone will be, and burlesque dancers will be baring all (or most).

The one time I rode the Cyclone in the rain, it felt like I was taking a shower in a beehive. But fuck it, I'm doing it tonight no matter what. In case you aren't…

Backwards messages seggasem sdrawkcab

I just discovered this excellent Web page: Jeff Milner's Backmasking Site. I have no idea who Jeff Milner is, but I applaud him for doing our culture a valuable service. As a kid, I was way into stories of backward messages in records; my friend and I even messed up his parents' turntable trying to hear the "turn me on, dead man" in "Revolution No. 9." Later, at camp, some guys and I figured out how to crack open a cassette tape and switch the reels so that you can play it backward; we spooked ourselves hearing "It's fun to smoke marijuana" in "Another One Bites the Dust." It didn't occur to me at the time that a supposed love of smoking weed was probably the least weird thing about Freddie Mercury.

So enjoy. I think my favorite is "Break on Through." I hate the Doors; I consider Jim Morrison one of the most unintentionally hilarious characters in history, so it's fun to think that maybe, just maybe, he was actually the personification of evil.

Friday: Coney Island!

I have to confess, I have committed a heinous crime to my most cherished principles: I have yet to visit my homeland, Coney Island, this summer. Back in the good old days, I cruised the train out to the Coney five or six times a summer, where I'd really fuck shit up. I'd get my fortune told, make out on the Wonder Wheel, stare at the ocean. Dude, I once ate the frog legs at Nathan's.

And, of course, I'd ride the Cyclone roller coaster, my darling Cyclone. I've written in this space about my love for roller coasters, but the legendary Cyclone is special. I long ago made a promise to myself to never visit Coney Island without riding it at least once, and I have never broken that vow.

Yet here we are, mid-July, and I've yet to visit in 2010. An especially egregious crime considering that this year, Luna Park has been revived, and is supposedly well equipped for a new age of glory. But I'm headed out there this Friday, July 23, to assist in that glory, as I'll be hosting the Coney Island Cyclone T-Shirt Design Contest and Fashion Show! Visit the Cyclone's official site right now to vote for one of 11 potential designs for the coaster's new official T-shirt. On Friday, some of the designers, joined by a complement of Brooklyn's finest burlesque talent, will be displaying the goods, and the winner will be revealed. I'll be your MC, punctuating the proceedings with Coney Island–appropriate trivia and prizes (count on free rides, which is nothing to vomit at, mind you). It all takes place practically under the Cyclone, 834 Surf Avenue at 10th Street (right across from the W 8th St–NY Aquarium subway stop), 6–8pm. Stick around afterward to try some rides with me (this article got me excited) and watch the Friday night fireworks, and maybe—maybe—I'll have a Nathan's hot dog. I still like to party.

To get you excited…

Live from Union Square

On yet another sweltering Saturday, here's a little something to fit the modd: With the help of the brilliant William K. Scurry (sometime member of Team! The Musical), B-Cutie Nicki and I spent a marinatingly hot afternoon in Union Square, quizzing New Yorkers on all things trivial. The results were pleasingly mixed. Watch:

Thoughts on Cheap Trick and Squeeze

A few thoughts about the Cheap Trick/Squeeze concert I went to Tuesday night at Radio City Music Hall ($50 ticket off Craigslist, went alone, treated myself for my birthday):

— Radio City Musical Hall is a sick venue. That place is just awe-inspiring, from every angle: The architecture, the decoration, the stage. For a time, I said that my ultimate goal in life was for the Big Quiz Thing to play Radio City, but then I realized it has fixed row seating. I'll have to settle for Carnegie Hall.


-- I'd seen Squeeze a couple times before, but never Cheap Trick, so I was more interested in the madmen from Freeport, IL, legendary for their live act. (How many bands can you name whose most beloved release was a live album?) I assumed—I don't know, maybe because New York magazine and a couple other places suggested it—that the Trick was headlining, so I arrived at 8:15 for an 8pm show, figuring at worst I'd miss a couple Squeeze tunes. Nope: Took my seat just as Robin Zander was finishing the a cappella climax to "I Want You to Want Me," my karaoke standby.

Anyway, they were fucking great. Cheap Trick is really a unique band: They struck this weird balance between half a dozen forces going on in rock in the late '70s/early '80s: glam rock, emerging metal-pop, new wave, arena rock. Right now I'm listening to the Cheap Trick channel on Pandora, and it's the best thing I've heard from this program; plug in most bands, and it gives you a pretty narrow range of sound-alike acts, but apparently Cheap Trick is at the sonic center of the classic-rock universe: I can do without Aerosmith, and it's a little too heavy on Queen, but otherwise there's the Beatles, Van Halen when they were good, the Who, the Cars, CCR, the Romantics, Tom Petty, Journey…hell, Tommy Tutone. It's like a really good classic-rock station, the kind that made me a rock fan to begin with.

More of my thoughts about the concert in this review; I didn't write any of the bits about Squeeze, I was just helping out a colleague who arrived seriously late.

— The crowd was very working-class; lots of rough-looking old rock & roll fans wearing Mets caps and holding plastic cups of beer. I say this with no intended condescension. But it was a little surprising, and heartening. Squeeze is an unabashedly London working-class band (think "Up the Junction"), so it's nice to see the sentiment communicated across the Atlantic.


-- Speaking of which, while Cheap Trick T-shirts were not in short supply, this crowd was definitely there for the headliners, which surprised me but shouldn't have. Squeeze was (is) an excellent band—Glenn Tilbrook and Chris Difford were the new-wave Lennon and McCartney—and while they never met tremendous mainstream success in the U.S., they for some reason have maintained a huge amount of goodwill in the NYC area. Growing up in New Jersey, under the aegis of New York rock radio, I was under the impression that Squeeze was one of the biggest bands in the world; they were in heavy rotation on WNEW, and it seemed like owning a copy of Singles 45's and Under was a prerequisite for getting a driver's license. In 1989, I saw them play a packed Madison Square Garden.

The next year, I moved to Canada, and was surprised to discover that Squeeze did not stride the earth like a colossus; most of my classmates didn't know the band, they were a cult act at best. Same thing when I got to college in the Midwest; sure, everyone knew "Tempted" (the Reality Bites soundtrack had reached campus saturation levels), but otherwise the band was one many in the sub–Elvis Costello hipster-'80s-rock loam.

But last Tuesday's show proved that New York hasn't forgotten. It was fun to watch the crowds varying reactions—hanging on every word when Difford, Tilbrook and their current crop of hired hands (including an irritatingly jumpy keyboard player) played a song from the Singles collection (even if there's no way most of those people knew what Difford is talking about in the über-British "Cool for Cats"), and subdued when the band indulged in an excellent obscurity like "It's So Dirty" or a latter-day single like "Loving You Tonight."

—By the way, shame on them—they played every song from Singles 45's and Under, with the exception of their absolute best song, "Another Nail for My Heart." Instead, watch it here:

This oversight renewed a promise I made to myself once upon a time: If I ever become filthy rich, I will pay to coax all my favorite bands to perform just for me, with a set list of my choosing. I just hope my favorite bands are still alive by then.