I've been dreaming of this for about a year. It has now become a reality.
It has put an end to a constant low-level annoyance, with simplicity and humor.
The House at 7 East 95th Street was built between 1914 and 1916 to serve as the town residence of Edith Shepard Fabbri, a great granddaughter of Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt, and her husband, Ernesto Fabbri, an associate of J. Pierpont Morgan.I liked the library. It has a balcony for a second floor of books. If you look closely at the lower right of this picture, there are dark and empty shelves -- that is a "secret" door to the servants' quarters:
In the three-quarters of an hour that Joshua Bell played, seven people stopped what they were doing to hang around and take in the performance, at least for a minute. Twenty-seven gave money, most of them on the run -- for a total of $32 and change. That leaves the 1,070 people who hurried by, oblivious, many only three feet away, few even turning to look.Usually I've heard the incident discussed as evidence for the proposition that we've built up an immunity to truth and beauty. The Washington Post article is more nuanced than I'd expected -- it is definitely worth a read. The reality is that people going to or from their train at rush hour generally have somewhere to go at a particular time... and do not appreciate the implicit bid for their time, attention, and money of a performance they've not asked for. Of course they will do their best to ignore a busker if they possibly can. The interesting thing to me is that:
[T]he behavior of one demographic remained absolutely consistent. Every single time a child walked past, he or she tried to stop and watch. And every single time, a parent scooted the kid away.