URL: http://www.nytimes.com SUBJECT

1145 of 1258 DOCUMENTS

The New York Times
February 11, 2007 Sunday

Late Edition - Final

Penny Foolish
BYLINE: By David Margolick.

David Margolick, a contributing editor at Vanity Fair, is the author of ''Beyond Glory: Joe Louis vs. Max Schmeling, and a World on the Brink.''

SECTION: Section 4; Column 1; Editorial Desk; Pg. 13
LENGTH: 2382 words
Now when you see a penny,

Look at Lincoln's face!

See how round and round again,

Lincoln saved the race!

Look at that small penny,

Hold it close to you,

And if you ever lose your way,

Abe will lead you through.

-- Alfred Kreymborg, ''The Lincoln Penny,'' 1942

IT is strewn around the sidewalks and gutters of America, amid the bottle caps and cigarette butts, not even worth bending over to fetch. When the street sweepers rumble by, a few invariably linger in their wake. Or it languishes by cash registers in cheap plastic troughs or cardboard trays, yours to take or leave or ignore. Or it rattles around in beggars' cups, making lots of noise but too puny, even by the handful, to swing a muffin or a hot cup of coffee.

Yet when it first appeared four score and 18 years ago, it was a matter of almost unimaginable curiosity, excitement and veneration. People -- mostly street urchins searching for a quick profit -- lined up for blocks to buy them; in New York, mounted policemen were called in to control the roiling mobs. Editorialists praised it as the perfect tribute to a martyr, or denounced it as a trinket unworthy of him. Immigrants had a special reverence for it; to blacks, it was ''emancipation money.'' But even to whites, there was something sacred about it. A New York man who'd committed suicide a few days after it first appeared clutched one in the palm of his hand, thinking, apparently, that it would bring him good luck in the hereafter.

It is the Lincoln penny. Since its debut on the centennial of Abraham Lincoln's birth, in 1909, probably no art object in human history has been reproduced more often: by the end of last year, 444,039,035,418 times, and counting. That's nearly half a trillion images of a benevolent, accessible, vaguely smiling Lincoln -- intended, as its designer explained, ''to show the sunshine as well as the goodness of his life.'' It is a history worth commemorating as Lincoln's birthday -- remember that? -- is again upon us. (It's tomorrow.) Only when you consider the Lincoln penny's glorious origins can you see how far it has fallen; long after it earned a decent and respectful retirement it must soldier on -- burials it's had aplenty, as a dip into any landfill shows -- victim of inflation and inertia, political maneuvering and national vanity.

The millionaire may seldom

Those noble outlines grasp,

But childhood's chubby fingers

The image oft will clasp.

The poor man will esteem it,

And mothers hold it dear --

The plain and common people

He loved when he was here.-- ''The Lincoln Cent,'' The New York Sun, February 1909

President Theodore Roosevelt thought American coins were pedestrian and uninspiring. That included the Indian Head penny, which had been around since 1859. In July 1908, he sat several times for Victor David Brenner, a Lithuanian-born Jew who, since coming to the United States 19 years earlier, had become one of the nation's premier medalists. To Brenner as to many immigrants, Lincoln was a hero; he'd learned about him in a settlement house on the Lower East Side. Brenner showed Roosevelt a bas-relief he'd made of Lincoln, based on a photograph from Mathew Brady. Roosevelt, who considered himself Lincoln's political heir, decreed that Brenner's Lincoln go on a new penny, in time to commemorate Lincoln's 100th birthday in 1909.

It was a revolutionary act: Up to then, the only figures on everyday American coins were allegorical figures, like Liberty. Putting real people on them, the thinking went, smacked of monarchy; even George Washington hadn't rated such treatment. To place Lincoln on the most widely circulated coin made sense; it was Lincoln, after all, who'd said that ''Common-looking people are the best in the world; that is the reason the Lord makes so many of them.''

Brenner, who received $1,000 for the commission, adapted his bas-relief Lincoln for the new coin, warming him up along the way. This revised Lincoln, he explained, would be ''more intimate, deeper, more kindly'' -- Lincoln as if in a library, talking to a child. ''I read everything I could find describing the man's personal side,'' Brenner later recalled. ''I studied his portraits and the death mask until I believed I knew him. My mind was full of Lincoln.''

Production of the new penny began at the United States Mint in Philadelphia on July 10, 1909. So great was the anticipation that Mint officials declined Brenner's request for 100 of the first coins struck; it would be unfair to all the other movers and shakers clamoring for them. Anticipating regional jealousies, the Mint decreed that the coin be released across the country simultaneously. ''The new Lincoln cents, it seems, will be distributed the first week in August,'' The Boston Globe reported excitedly that May. ''It is so hard to wait!''

This bronze our Lincoln's noble head doth bear,

Behold the strength and splendor of that face,

So homely-beautiful, with just a trace,

Of humor lightening its look of care!

With bronze indeed his memory doth share,

This martyr who found freedom for a Race;

Both shall endure beyond the time and place

That knew them first, and brighter grow with wear.

-- Frank Dempster Sherman, ''Brenner's Lincoln.''

In New York, the first few Lincoln pennies were issued by the federal sub-treasury -- the precursor of the Federal Reserve Bank -- in the financial district on Monday, Aug. 2, 1909. By Tuesday, long lines for the coins had already formed. ''The big man down in Wall Street yesterday was the man who had a few of the new Lincoln cents,'' The Sun reported that Wednesday. ''He could have had a fairly good time on 10 of them; he could start a celebration on a quarter's worth, and for 50 of them there was no reason why he couldn't purchase a regular jubilee.''

Quickly, though, people learned that Lincoln was not the only man the new coins immortalized. On the back -- between the pair of elegantly curved heads of wheat designed to show, as Brenner said, that in America there was plenty, and to spare -- were Brenner's initials, still familiar to any serious coin collector: ''V.D.B.''

It was not the first time a designer's monogram had appeared on an American coin, nor were the letters especially large. But instantly, Brenner was labeled a shameless self-promoter; The Times mocked that all future pennies should sport not just Brenner's full name, but his address and a picture of his office. Rumors flew that the offending letters would soon be removed, and when those rumors were confirmed, the collecting frenzy only grew.

Even rain couldn't dampen the intensified rush in Lower Manhattan, which by Friday saw crowds extending from Pine and Nassau Streets east to William Street, then around the corner to Wall Street. Banks complained that their regular customers couldn't get through the swarms. Some people near the front of the lines sold their spots for a dollar. The more impatient and ingenious hired women, who in a still chivalrous era were not made to wait. ''Within 15 minutes there were enough girls at the door to make it look like a bargain counter sale on a busy Monday,'' The Sun reported. To The Times, the scene resembled Wall Street during the panic two years earlier.

Many in what The Tribune called ''the penny-mad crowd'' were poor children, faces outof Jacob Riis or Lewis Hine photographs, some carrying a single battered Indian Head penny to trade in, others far more entrepreneurial. The resale rate hovered around three new pennies for a nickel, though it shot up whenever supplies ran low. ''You couldn't walk half a dozen feet,'' The Sun reported, ''without having a grimy hand thrust out in front of you with a pile of glittering pennies in the outstretched palm.''

THE scene was pretty much the same around the country. The Washington Star compared the hordes outside the Mint there to the crowds watching the Wright brothers test their ''aeroplanes.'' In Boston, according to The Globe, ''you could get the new Lincoln coins for a cent apiece by spending, say, a dollar's worth of time.'' In Springfield, Ill., demand was ''unprecedented,'' The Illinois State Register reported; the Lincoln Bank ordered 5,000, but received only 50. Demand was high even in the old Confederacy: the crowd outside one Atlanta bank ''would have made a Chicago bread line look small.'' (After some well-publicized uncertainty, a schoolgirl in Charleston, S.C., donated one toward a monument for Robert E. Lee.)

If it were possible to talk with that great, good man, he would probably say that he is perfectly willing that his face is to be placed on the cheapest and most common coin in the country. Follow the travels of the penny and you find it stops at many cottages and few mansions. The common, homely face of 'Honest Abe' will look good on the penny, the coin of the common folk from whom he came and to whom he belongs.

-- Carl Sandburg, The Milwaukee Daily News

No one was more pleased with the new coins than African-Americans. A report from Middletown, N.Y., described ''a furore among the colored residents, many of whom appear to think that the pennies were issued for their special benefit.'' But the new coins were not always so welcome. They were too thick for vending machines and, to the horror of the telephone company, could pass for nickels. Their shininess gave thieves conniptions: a man sticking up a train in Altoona, Pa., carted off a bagful, worth $50, while leaving another bag, containing $5,000 in gold, behind.

And there were complaints from traditionalists, falling along historic, artistic, moral and even metallurgical lines. ''The red Indian in his war bonnet, the sole survival of aboriginal North America, was of value as a cultural memorial, if for nothing else,'' thundered The Times, which called the loss of the Indian Head penny ''another ill-considered freak of Mr. Roosevelt's will.'' It suggested that the Indians be restored to American coinage, and that its ''foolish'' replacements ''find oblivion in the tills of the coin collectors.''

Some thought copper far better suited to depicting Native Americans than white men. The Philadelphia Inquirer likened the new coin to ''the cheap little medal that used to be given away with bags of pop-corn.'' In The New York Herald, a letter writer called it ''only useful to adorn a church collection plate or feed a penny slot chewing gum machine or to be given to our 'kids' for lollipops.''

But these were minority views, and the dies pressed on. By the end of 1909, the Mint had stamped out more than 100 million of the new pennies. And for a time, they retained their novelty. A drugstore in Syracuse offered one to every customer; a store in Galveston, Tex., threw one in if you bought three pairs of women's hosiery. A jeweler in Fresno, Calif., offered Lincoln penny hat pins and brooches for 25 cents, and Lincoln penny cuff links for 50 cents.

Now Lincoln, a penny, can't park your car

Washington on a nickel can't go too far,

Jeff on two, good to play at the track

If you think you gonna bring some big ones back

Give me some dead presidents

Give me some dead presidents

I don't need Lincoln on the little old cent

I want great big Lincoln, to pay my rent.

-- Willie Dixon, ''Dead Presidents''

IN 1918, surely to make it conform to other coins rather than in response to any public groundswell or appeal from the artist, Brenner's initials were quietly restored, to the spot where they remain, almost undetectable, to this day: at about 7 o'clock along the bottom of the bust. That was scant consolation to the artist; he died in obscurity in 1924. But his penny survived World War I, then served in World War II: when copper was scarce, it was briefly made from steel, then from casings of discarded shells.

Since then, though, it's all been downhill. On Lincoln's 150th birthday in 1959, the penny lost half of Brenner's original design, the wheat stalks yielding to the far less elegant Lincoln Memorial. In 1983, the copper gave way to lighter, cheaper zinc, turning the Lincoln penny into a practically weightless object, a tiddlywink -- something that, when dropped, clicks rather than rings. Once again, merchants began giving Lincoln pennies away, though now, not to lure customers in but to hasten their sales and rush them out. The few people who still bend over to pick them up are invariably those least able to stoop.

And yet the coin persists. Yes, there are periodic attempts to eliminate the Lincoln cent, which now costs more to make than it's worth, but they're always beaten back by an odd coalition of zinc manufacturers, Illinois politicians, rank sentimentalists and charities running penny drives. Here there are also efforts to restore the coin to at least some of its former glory. For the Lincoln bicentennial two years from now, the reverse side of the coin will sport four new designs, each commemorating a place where Lincoln lived. Then, in 2010, the back of the coin will be used to represent Lincoln saving the union.

On any other object, these would be worthwhile, even noble, goals. But on the penny, they simply mean five new versions of something to step on, toss out and pave over. It hardly sounds like an honor.

Only by recalling the excitement a simple coin could generate nearly a century ago, can we see how unforgivably low the coin has fallen in the American mind. Finally, those curmudgeons who complained at the time that the Lincoln penny wasn't worthy of Lincoln, so roundly repudiated, are at last, incontrovertibly right. To hold Abraham Lincoln hostage to an object of such universal contempt is a disgrace.

What is needed, then, is a new campaign to emancipate Lincoln from the penny. The best way, of course, would be to kill the penny altogether. But if, for reasons of habit or political expedience, we foolishly keep it around, then perhaps it should commemorate some president appropriate to its lowly station, perhaps James J. Buchanan or Andrew Johnson.

In the meantime, let's move Lincoln -- Brenner's Lincoln -- to a new $2 or $5 piece, so that our greatest president can be on the country's most valuable coin instead of its most reviled one. That would be an altogether fitting and proper way to honor the man, and to celebrate his birthday.
URL: http://www.nytimes.com
SUBJECT: EDITORIALS & OPINIONS (91%); COINS & COINAGE (89%); SUICIDE (67%); WEALTHY PEOPLE (65%); LANDFILLS (50%) Currency
PERSON: David Margolick; Abraham (1809-65) Lincoln
GEOGRAPHIC: NEW YORK, USA (90%) UNITED STATES (92%)
LOAD-DATE: February 11, 2007
LANGUAGE: ENGLISH
GRAPHIC: Drawing (Drawing by Gregory Nemec)
DOCUMENT-TYPE: Op-Ed
PUBLICATION-TYPE: Newspaper

Copyright 2007 The New York Times Company

1146 of 1258 DOCUMENTS

The New York Times
February 11, 2007 Sunday

Late Edition - Final

Vaughn the Developer Wants People Safe at Home
BYLINE: By GEORGE VECSEY.

E-mail: geovec@nytimes.com

SECTION: Section 8; Column 2; Sports Desk; SPORTS OF THE TIMES; Pg. 1
LENGTH: 863 words
Mo Vaughn wears a different uniform now -- a black suit with bold stripes, every day, in boardrooms or at construction sites. The power suit is part of the message. He is not a ballplayer anymore.

''I still can't go back and smell the fresh grass,'' he said.

It's too soon since his body broke down and he played his last game in May 2003. Besides, he is busy in his new life.

Vaughn sniffs the hallways of the two renovated buildings at Grace Towers in Brooklyn, the walls and floors spotless, the elevator purring, security cameras at every turn.

''You stop and think,'' Vaughn said with the same passion he displayed in a Red Sox uniform. ''There are people who have been living in Grace Towers for 25 years. These are people's homes. People live and die here.''

He's not Santa Claus, not in that business suit. He's an entrepreneur, and his chosen field is affordable housing, using bonds and tax credits and government approval.

''But do it for the right reason,'' Vaughn added.

Before Nomar, before Manny, before Big Papi, Mo Vaughn was the big man on the Red Sox, a preppie and a Seton Hall man with a stable childhood and strong opinions.

(''Great guy,'' one Red Sox fan in New York said Friday when she heard what Vaughn was doing. ''He was involved in every charity in Boston. They love him up there.'') Now he is a visible partner in a company called Omni New York LLC, which arranges housing for people with modest incomes.

A sports columnist, popping in for a few hours, cannot possibly address the finances and methods of a company. But I've been in some tough places, and I could see (and smell) the upgrades at the southwest corner of Pennsylvania and Pitkin in the East New York section of Brooklyn.

Vaughn and his partner, Eugene Schneur, and their site manager, Mildred Pimentel, met me Thursday in the parking lot, behind handsome fences and electronic barriers. They used computerized cards, the kind used in hotels, instead of keys to get through the airy entrance. They showed me a community room in the well-lighted basement -- seven computers, used for enrichment classes in finance or college applications, open to residents.

''Let people help themselves,'' said Schneur, who said he came from Russia to Brighton Beach when he was 7, and worked up from poverty. Vaughn's parents were teachers, and lived comfortably in Norwalk, Conn. Vaughn needs space and lives over in New Jersey, while Schneur lives in Manhattan. Schneur was Vaughn's lawyer when Vaughn hobbled through his final futile $15 million years with the Mets, retiring at 35.

''I knew I was going to do something else with my life,'' Vaughn said the other day. ''Let somebody else be general manager or manager. I had to get totally away from it. I had my time. I'm not as good as I was. That's it.''

Vaughn shudders when he mentions former teammates who have lost all their money. ''They didn't learn how to live on a budget,'' he said, sadly.

As Vaughn's career ended, Schneur approached him about going into real estate, warning him: ''You have a choice. Do you want to be part of a process? This is going to go faster than anything you have ever seen.''

Vaughn added: ''He was right. I'm a developer. That's what I do. I want people to take me seriously.'' He works a five-day, 12-month schedule, so ''totally immersed'' that he can travel only on weekends. One of his rules for himself is: ''Don't have guys around you who tell you everything's good. I need Gene to tell me the truth.''

With help from Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg and his staff, and commitment from Citibank, the partners began in the Bronx and now have holdings in New York and New Jersey. Vaughn recalls one closing in which 70 people were spread over a dozen tables, all updating the fine print, for two days. Now people are beginning to see results.

''You didn't go out after a certain time,'' said Nelson Lee, who lives at Grace Towers and works there as a maintenance man. ''You'd step over people in the lobby.''

''The cabinets were falling out, the elevators were out for days, the roof was bad, the fans didn't work, there was vandalism,'' Lee said, adding, ''As a church brother, I say I am blessed.''

Lee's wife, Daisy, invited me into their immaculate two-bedroom apartment, displaying new cabinets, closet doors, windows, stove, refrigerator, toilet, sink and tiled bathroom floors. ''Wouldn't you want to be here?'' Lee said.

In a few months, Vaughn and Schneur will take over the notorious Noble Drew Ali Plaza in the Brownsville section of Brooklyn, a complex known for its toxic mixture of dilapidation and fear.

''Armed guards, cameras, tanks, whatever it takes,'' Vaughn said, adding that the first step was to secure the perimeter, putting up fences and installing cameras that capture a two-month history of every corner of every hallway.

''You burn a CD, you see what happened, and a police car comes in, lights flashing,'' Vaughn said. ''The police will ramp it up if they have a tool to work with. That happens a few times, everybody knows.''

When the process begins at the Noble Drew Ali Plaza, Vaughn plans to be right there -- in his new uniform, the business suit.

URL: http://www.nytimes.com
SUBJECT: BUILDING RENOVATION (78%); ATHLETES (90%); HOUSING ASSISTANCE (73%); LOW COST HOUSING SCHEMES (72%); APPROVALS (66%); BASEBALL (77%) Baseball; Sports of the Times (Times Column); Housing
ORGANIZATION: Omni New York (Co)
PERSON: George Vecsey; Mo Vaughn
GEOGRAPHIC: NEW YORK, NY, USA (92%); BOSTON, MA, USA (79%) NEW YORK, USA (94%); NEW JERSEY, USA (79%); MASSACHUSETTS, USA (79%); CONNECTICUT, USA (70%) UNITED STATES (94%)
LOAD-DATE: February 11, 2007
LANGUAGE: ENGLISH
GRAPHIC: Photo: Mo Vaughn, in Newark, is a partner in a company called Omni New York LLC, which arranges housing for people with modest incomes. (Photo by Dith Pran/The New York Times)(pg. 7)
PUBLICATION-TYPE: Newspaper

Copyright 2007 The New York Times Company

1147 of 1258 DOCUMENTS

The New York Times
February 11, 2007 Sunday

Late Edition - Final

Simmering Family Feud Clouds Future of Team And Its Namesake
BYLINE: By VIV BERNSTEIN
SECTION: Section 8; Column 1; Sports Desk; AUTO RACING; Pg. 10
LENGTH: 1123 words
What started as a contract negotiation has escalated into a caustic family feud replete with personal jabs, public attacks and a nasty tug of war over control of one of the premier race teams in Nascar. Under ordinary circumstances, this would qualify as an entertaining sideshow in a sport known for its occasionally comedic soap operas.

But not this time. Not when the Earnhardt family is the one that is feuding.

''This is high drama,'' said Humpy Wheeler, the longtime race promoter and president of Lowe's Motor Speedway, who has seen his share of dramas play out in Nascar. ''This is a show in itself.''

At stake in this battle between Nascar's most popular driver, Dale Earnhardt Jr., and his stepmother, Teresa Earnhardt, is the future of a company that is the legacy of Dale Earnhardt, who was killed in a crash on the final lap of the 2001 Daytona 500. The legacy of his son may be at stake as well.

With the season-opening Daytona 500 next Sunday and Earnhardt's contract to race for Dale Earnhardt Inc. set to expire at the end of the year, the rest of the Nascar garage will have its eyes on a fight that could rock the sport.

''What happens here is going to have a significant impact on racing going forward because right now about 30 percent of the souvenir sales in Nascar is Dale Jr. driven,'' Wheeler said recently. ''That's a huge amount.''

If Earnhardt leaves his father's race team after this year, his ability to bring in revenue will go with him to the highest bidder among several teams that will surely try to lure him. At the top of the list would be Richard Childress Racing, the race team for which the elder Earnhardt won six of his seven championships driving the famed No. 3 Chevrolet.

''They better figure out a way to come to terms because Dale could write his own ticket,'' the four-time Cup champion driver Jeff Gordon said recently. ''He could go anywhere he wants, and his sponsors are going to go with him. The fans are going to go with him, and he can start his own team, he can go to any organization. He's in the best seat that you could possibly be in in this sport, and I don't know if Teresa is really recognizing that.''

If she does recognize that reality, she is not saying. Teresa Earnhardt founded the company with her husband and took over after his death. A spokesman for D.E.I., which also employs Martin Truex Jr. and the rookie Paul Menard as drivers in the top-level Nextel Cup series, said Friday that she was not available for comment and that the company would not issue any statements about negotiations.

That response came one day after Dale Earnhardt Jr., acknowledging his bargaining power, finally made clear the extent of his demands in negotiations that began last season.

''The main factor is the ownership part,'' he told reporters Thursday as drivers arrived in Daytona Beach, Fla., for the beginning of Speedweeks at Daytona International Speedway. ''It has nothing to do with money and nothing else, really.

''My father has been gone almost six years now. I want majority ownership.''

Earnhardt, who is being represented in negotiations by his sister, Kelley Earnhardt Elledge, had what he characterized as a positive introductory meeting Wednesday with Max Siegel, the new D.E.I. president of global operations. Earnhardt praised Siegel, a music industry executive who was hired recently to run the business side of the race team and will help lead contract talks for the company. Teresa Earnhardt was not at that meeting. She has apparently removed herself from direct involvement in negotiations.

But in December, Teresa Earnhardt publicly criticized her stepson in statements she made to The Wall Street Journal. ''Right now the ball's in his court to decide on whether he wants to be a Nascar driver or whether he wants to be a public personality,'' she said.

Earnhardt responded publicly. He made scathing remarks about his stepmother and their relationship during a news conference in Daytona Beach in early January, when teams were conducting preseason testing.

''Mine and Teresa's relationship has always been black and white, very strict, in your face,'' Earnhardt said. ''It ain't a bed of roses.''

Yet they remain inextricably connected by Dale Earnhardt, the father and husband who is a continuing presence in the sport in large part because of the efforts of Teresa. She has worked diligently to build the Dale Earnhardt Foundation, which aids education as well as needy children and environmental causes.

She also provided input and guidance for the documentary ''Dale,'' which is being screened in cities on the Nascar circuit. It has received praise from many in the racing industry, including her stepson.

And despite their contentious relationship, including the battle about Earnhardt's right to market his own name, he recently praised his stepmother for her efforts. He even defended her when the driver Kevin Harvick referred to her as a ''deadbeat'' owner who does not attend races and support her team.

''Teresa, with everything that's happened, not just to the company but to the family over the last five years, she's had a full plate,'' Earnhardt told reporters recently. ''That's probably been the sole reason why she hasn't been as visible at the racetrack. She's taking care of things that are most important when it comes to the family.''

Perhaps Earnhardt believes he is doing the same for the company. After all, with majority ownership comes control of the budget for spending on equipment and personnel that will play a large role in determining if he will remain competitive and perhaps win a championship. He has been critical of the race team at times in recent years, particularly the engine department.

Earnhardt, 32, is entering his eighth full season in Cup competition. With 17 career victories and three top-five finishes in the standings in the past four years, he is at the peak of his career. If he is going to win a championship, it will most likely have to come soon.

Earnhardt said he was not concerned about championships. But Wheeler said the iconic status of Earnhardt depended partly on his ability to remain competitive. He has to win races and challenge for titles.

''He's got three years,'' Wheeler said. ''You just don't start winning prolifically after you're 36 years old or so.''

If that is the window of opportunity for Earnhardt to capture a title, then these negotiations will go a long way toward determining his ultimate standing in this sport. Not to mention the standing of Dale Earnhardt Inc. as a serious racing operation.

''You want to see that organization stay alive,'' Gordon said. ''And I think the only way it's going to stay alive is for Dale Earnhardt Jr. to be there.''

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