Comment Magazine, 2010

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ii thecmmen 2010 iii thecm

2010

For the love o

LARPin

page 1

2010

Boston Universitys policies provide for equalopportunity and affirmative action in employmentand admission to all programs of the University.0410 100805

www.bu.edu/com/comment

Manuel Morcano shows o his latest masterpiece. photo by Johannes Hirn


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Dean o the College o

Communication

Tom Fiedler

The CommentSta

Faculty Advisor

Susan Blau

Faculty Editor

Cynthia Anderson

Student Editor

Aviv Rubinstien

Design and Production

BU Creative Services

Sta Writers

Drew FitzGerald

Samantha Gennuso

Teresa Gorman

Lauren Keiper

Aviv Rubinstien

Katie Ryan

Eric Hal Schwartz

Contributing Photographers

Vincent Bancheri

Johannes Hirn

Vikesh Kapoor

Cover Photo

Vincent Bancheri

2010 by the College o

Communication

Boston University

The Commentsta zeroed in on a themeidentityquickly this

year. We had little trouble reaching consensus ater someone asked,

What makes us who we are? Is it our jobs, our amilies and our

cultural contexts, the hardships weve endured, the secrets we keep?

One answer is suggested in the photograph below by Johannes

Hirn. We think it says much about engineer-turned-hairdresser Manuel

Morcano, who opened his Boston-area barbershop ater almost dying

o a perorated colon several years ago. At the shop, Morcanos

customers can view an array o autographed images o music legends

and choose rom such books as The 9/11 Commission Reportand The

Denitive Book o Body Language.Written works in the 2010 Commentalso explore identity

individual and collective. Lauren Keiper proles women who have let

their jobs in nance, voluntarily or not, in the atermath o the credit

crisis. Drew FitzGerald limns the w orld(s) o libertarian Free Staters in

New Hampshire, Samantha Gennuso ollows a lm crew on its journey

to raise awareness or muscular dystrophy and Katie Ryan shadows

Frank Warren o PostSecret ame.

We have personal explorations too. Teresa Gorman describes the

tribulations o being the ninth o ten kids, and Aviv Rubinstien comes

clean as a storytellerhe hopes. In Apes at Sea, Eric Hal Schwartz

takes us on a student cruise to Norway, likening the voyage to a

large-scale social experiment. Even when disguised by ancy clothes

and good manners, Schwartz writes, our primate essence comes

through.

Several other articles and essays round out our oerings, which

you can view in expanded orm online at www.bu.edu/com/comment.

We hope you enjoy our work.

Aviv Rubinstien, Student Editor

Happy reading.

Editors LetterThe Man Behind the Curtain

Katie RyanWhat Its Lik

Your Name

Samantha Ge

Apes at Sea

Eric Hal Schw

Will Box or Johannes Hi

Ryan Gosling

Aviv Rubinst

Finding Our F

Lauren Keipe

Number Nin

Teresa Gorm

A Granite State o Mind

Drew FitzGerald

LARP Me Good

Eric Hal Schwartz

Layups and LipstickKatie Ryan

Destiny USA:

The Story o a Mega-Mall

and a City

Teresa Gorman

(Re)Balancing Act

Lauren Keiper

His Wheels Keep Spinnin

Samantha Gennuso

8

14

22

24

30

33

2 6

12

18

28

32

36

Manuel Morcanos identity surely shows on

the walls o his shop.

photo by Johannes Hirn

Front cover: A masked Live

Action Role Player strolls the

grounds at Camp Denison,

Mass., as part o a story line.


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2 thecmmen 2010 3 thecm

The Wizard

o Oz lives in

Germantown,

Maryland.

To the

members o the

insular community

hes created, he is

omniscient. People

turn to him or guidance,

or to express their most

undamental needs: brains,

heart, courage, a home. His ame

stems rom what he is rumored to have

provided, yet as an individual he remainsshrouded in mystery.

Frank Warren, 45, is the great and

powerul Oz behind the collaborative

art project PostSecret. He collects

about a thousand anonymous

conessional postcards rom

strangers around the world each

week, redistributing a selection

o the once-private divulgences in

blog installations every Sundaya

routine thats earned his website close to

300 million hits over the last ve years.

HarperCollins, the publisher o Warrens

ve books, has dubbed him the most trusted

man in America. But thats his public persona.

Pay no attention to the man behind the

curtainor, in this case, the man behind

the website.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Like any good revelation, the idea or

PostSecret came to Warren in a lucid dream.

It was December 2003 in Paris, and

Warren, having checked into his hotel room

or the evening, placed three souvenir

Te Man

Behind

Te Curtain

postcards in a drawer beore retiring. As he

slept, he dreamed that the three postcards

had been altered. The rst message read,

unrecognized evidence, rom orgotten

journeys, unknowingly rediscovered, writes

Warren on his PostSecret Community blog.

[T]he second message was about a reluctant

oracle postcard art project, and the last I

could not understand at the time.

When he awakened, he immediately

manipulated the postcards in the drawer to

resemble his vision. What I did not know

was that those three remade postcards

would . . . set me on an unimaginable journey,he says.

It was just the escape he needed. Warren,

an Illinois native who holds a degree in social

science rom the University o Caliornia,

Berkeley, had moved to the Washington, D.C.,

area ater graduation. There hed begun a

business called Instant Inormation Systems

yet it was passionless work. It was a tedious,

monotonous job, but thats what inspired these

creative projects, Warren explains. Theres

a great deal o value in a boring job because

it makes you want to work harder and nd

something to make you happysomething

that matters more.

The heady combination o career

dissatisaction and a prophetic dream ignited

something in Warren. He adopted a kind

o creative superhero persona, embodyingthe unassuming career man by day and the

enigmatic alter ego by night. He was realizing

the second stage o his vision.

Warren certainly thrived as a sel-

appointed oracle, although he threw himsel

into the project so wholeheartedly that his

reluctance is debatable. Adopting a secret

persona he called Hobby Horse, he spent

the summer o 2004 crating several bottled

messages to be set adrit in Clopper Lake in

Marylands Seneca State Park. The bottles,

clear glass and the size o wine bottles,

contained photographed hands on postcards

that hung suspended rom the corks. These

postcards were stamped, and incorporated

cryptic messages on the back such as Your

question holds more than its answer.

The story o the mysterious HobbyHorse and his bottles garnered widespread

attention. The Washington Postcompared

the postcards to ortune cookies rom the

dark. In its investigation o the anonymous

artistic litterings, the Postconsulted Kerry

McAleer-Keeler, a printmaking instructor at

the Corcoran College o Art and Design, who

[Katie Ryn]

suggested that it could be a joke

that everyone is struggling to gu

To Warren, perhaps it was a b

Deciding what would go into eac

like designing a scene, Hobby H

the Post. What evidence to expo

to hide? How to show clues with

meanings? How to display an airt

tale? . . . Allowing the pieces to be

created more possibilities . . . The

view me as provocateur or pollut

criminal.

By September, Warren was re

begin phase three o his prophetireluctant oracle delivered a na

in-a-bottle: You will nd your an

secrets o strangers.

That next Sunday, the PostSe

movement began.

Not in Kansas Anymore

Warrens dream-inspired relat

with the postcard and newound

or public involvement with his ar

cornerstones on which he built hi

City. Armed with 3,000 sel-addre

postcards, Warren appealed to th

o D.C., asking them to be part o

endeavor: write an anonymous se

back o a postcard and mail it to h

You are invited to anonymou

contribute a secret to a group art otherwise-blank cards read. You

be a regret, ear, betrayal, desire

or childhood humiliation. Reveal

long as it is true and you have nev

with anyone beore. Be brie. Be l

creative.

I knew that i I could nd a w

strangers to trust me with these

would be special or me, says W

About a hundred postcards o

way to his mailbox, enough or an

monthlong D.C. art estival, or w

suspended the secrets rom the c

wire. The event was well receive

Warren assumed the project had

new postcards kept coming, now

and rom distant states and count

Warren took this as a sign o things. PostSecret started as a l

even a prank, he says. But the s

taken on more gravity and more m

as times gone on. Once it becam

that the movement had gone vira

established a blog to display som

secrets. He managed the secretsCourtesy: HarperCollins


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despite their excitement, people a

respectul. There are audience me

weeping, literally overcome by the

to meet Warren.

In Hebrew, the word secret m

closer, says Warren. I think that

people send me a secret . . . I think

searching or grace.

Theres No Place Like Home

His publishers say hes the mo

man in America; his ans call him

parents call him sel-indulgent; an

daughter, hes just Dad. Everyone Warren is to themits when he t

identiy himsel that things get a l

I eel like a lm editor, taking

peoples lives and knitting them to

making connections between them

the scenes to talk to us and to eac

says. Sometimes, I eel like an id

secrets: Sometimes when Im buil

or the week Ill hear a secret calli

rom the week beore or one Ive s

and I go searching so I can nd th

harmony.

All o which is somewhat less

concrete. Hows this? Frank Warre

husband, a ather; hes been an en

artist, art collector. He could den

number o ways.

Id say more than anything elan explorer o hidden landscapes,

thoughtully.

And what does this hidden lan

Five best sellers, nearly 300 millio

the website, a thousand postcards

ardent reception o his artistic vis

awards. And hundreds o thousan

raised in the name o suicide prev

Warrens sel-description is in

but perhaps its legitimate. At the

yellow brick road paved with year

public appreciation lies his Emera

empire built on sel-ullling prop

city whose brilliance is not an inne

a refection o its inhabitants. War

simply an explorer o this hidden l

he is the Wizard behind its creatio

L. Frank Baums Wizard o Oz dhimsel precisely: Im really a ver

but Im a very bad Wizard.

Perhaps Frank Warren is too.

engrossed through the entire presentation

laughing when he laughs, quiet when hes

quiet. Everything and everyone in the room

ebbs and fows on his cue: emotions, volume,

even actions. He asks people to take a break

rom his speech and introduce themselves to

those around them, oering a sign o greeting

and peace. The postcards illuminated by

the overhead projector are multicolored and

illuminate Warrens ace, almost as stained

glass. The auditorium is transormed into a

house o worship, with Warren as spiritual

leadermaybe even as deity.

Its not much o a stretch. Hours earlier,beore the audience was even permitted into

the auditorium, people were preparing or

a religious experience. I dont know what

Ill do when I see him, said Anne Harris, a

student at Assumption College in Worcester,

Massachusetts. You dont understandhesGod. Another girl greets Warren ater his

presentation. Ive met God, she declares as

she descends the stage steps. She turns back

and aces Warren. You are God!

Warren is aware o the religious

implications his project can have

PostSecret: Conessions on Lie, Death, and

Godis ull o proessions o aith, or a lack

thereo. These particular secrets in the new

book are very soulul. I wanted to capture

that, says Warren. These are ull-rontal

conessions on how we really eel about

stu we cant share at the church, or the

synagogue or the mosque.

And though Warren, the sel-appointed

reluctant oracle, doesnt have a theological

background or any o the Big Answers, he can

relate to what his ollowers are experiencing.This project has made my own aith evolve;

Ill put it that way.

Ater his presentation is over, the crowd

moves en masse to greet Warren and have

him sign their books. The event sta corrals

the excited audience into more manageable

groups o eight or visitation with Warren;

notwithstanding, legions o ans are waiting.

The event is sold out. People have been lined

up at the auditorium or hours, beore even

the event sta arrived.

While the Dorothies mill around the lobby

clicking their heels in anticipation, Warren

is onstage, prepping his presentation. His

appearance is meticulous, almost calculated:

His green dress shirt looks proessional; the

un-tucked shirttails make him seem more

accessible. He wears pressed black pants

and black shoes. His hair is trimmed close;

wire-rimmed glasses rest between a urrowed

orehead and aint laugh lines on his cheeks.Warren ocuses on the silver Mac on

his podium, testing the volume and asking

staers about the turnout. He takes a ew

sips rom a water bottle, shakes his hands

out, walks briskly across the stage and ducks

behind a curtain, building adrenaline or his

entrance.

Forty minutes ater the sta opens the

foodgates, the man o the hour emerges. The

crowd erupts in thunderous applause. Warren

grins widely. Hes playing to another packed

house.

Himy names Frank, and I collect

secrets! The crowd cheers voraciously.

And so it goes. Anything Warren says is

golden; they cant get enough. He talks about

the most trusted label hes been given

and how supportive his wie and 15-year-olddaughter are o this mission hes undertaken.

In contrast, however, his parents call

PostSecret diabolical and sel-indulgent.

Maybe it is, Warren ponders aloud.

He plays a message that his mother let

on his wies voice

mail: I dont really

want one o Franks

books, she had

said. Forget about

sending me one.

The audience

laughs nervously.

People are looking

around right now

wondering, Is this

unny? Is this sad ?

notes Warren,although that seems

to be the reaction he

hoped to elicit. This

project is one o

those ideas where

youre waiting or

one person to have

that crazy aith that their parents might not

understand.

And suddenly, the audience is in cahoots

with him. The event isnt about Warrens path

to PostSecret or the other artistic endeavors

that never made it quite as big; tonight, the

artist becomes the actor, playing the simple

servant o his ollowersthe condante, the

riend. His parents may not understand, but his

audience does.

He gazes at the crowd. This project

doesnt make my secrets go away, but it

makes the burden easier. The statement is

an acknowledgement o sel-indulgencehe conesses to what his parents have

suggestedbut somehow the act o his

admission is more compelling than any private

secret he could divulge. Hes orged a bond

with the 500-plus people in the room; they

accept him unconditionally.

And to reciprocate, Warren is

complimentary o them.

I think young people are more alive than

adults; theyre more involved in trying to

understand whats legitimate and real and less

caught up in who theyre supposed to be, he

oers.

It doesnt hurt that hes such a compelling

orator. His voice carries, yet its still sot,

lilting, with almost a Kermit-the-Frog quality.

He sits with condent, relaxed body language:

one oot on the wheels o his chair and theother on the foor. He gestures with open

palms. The audience is rapt.

Warren continues to chat conspiratorially,

although many o his anecdotes are recycled.

The stories he tells in Boston are lited almost

verbatim rom the stories he told at an event in

New York several days earlier. He is a rock star

in his deliveryHello(insert name o city)! I

love you!

The biggest secret o the night may be how

well rehearsed Warren is.

Yet he can have it all memorized, because

his audiences are similar: all enthusiastic, all

excited to see the same never-beore-seen

secrets, all asking the same questions when

the time comes. Does Warren think any o

the secrets are made up? The actual basis o

the secret isnt what matters, he assertsater all, every postcard is art. [Each one is]

beautiul, Warren says. Whether the cards

bear legitimate secrets doesnt matter; artists

need not necessarily experience what they

depict: The very act o sharing a secret, the

process is transormative I youre truly

open to the secrets, theres a kernel o truth in

the bottles: hand-selected or their meaning,

arranged privately and broadcast to the public

once a week. Each Sunday he would select

10 postcards and add them to his site. Soon,

it became 20 cards a week. Hits to the site

increased.

Oshoots o the popular blog emerged

on social-networking websites like Facebook,

Twitter and, most notably, the PostSecret

Community orums, where ans gather online

to react to the weeks secrets and talk about

the impact the site has had on their lives.

There are those ans, or instance, who

connect so strongly to a particular secret thatthey have the message or design tattooed

on their bodies; a whole section o the orum

is dedicated to pictures o and comments on

resh, PostSecret-inspired ink.

Publisher HarperCollins has taken the

movement mainstream, producing ve

PostSecret-inspired books authored by

Warren; the most recent o these, PostSecret:

Conessions on Lie, Death, and God, debuted

at No. 1 on The New York Timesbest-seller

list in October 2009. The website shows the

immediacy o the secrets, but the books tell

the stories, says Warren.

And hes not necessarily looking to

stop there: Were looking to explore

new territorieseither TV or lm. In the

meantime, Warren sets o rom his Emerald

City to speak to the Munchkins at collegecampuses across the country.

O to See the Wizard

Its a cold, rainy October night when

Warren arrives at Boston University. Weather

there that speaks to all o us.

The most common secret? I pee in the

shower. A secret hell never post? Warren

describes a card eaturing a amily portrait,

inscribed, My brother doesnt realize his

ather is not our ather. None o the aces are

disguised, and should the brother or any o his

riends see the postcard on the site, he would

be immediately identiable. Secrets like that

dont belong to us, Warren says.

But one secret does belong to everyone,

Warren tells the crowd: Suicide is Americas

secret.

The mood shits, the joviality replaced by acollective deep breath o concern.

In this room o 500, 85 o us will think

about committing suicide, and 30 o us will

try, Warren says quietly. Students shit in

their seats and look down their rows with a

blend o suspicion and concern. Who will it be?

Warren uses the attention to talk about

Hopeline, a suicide-prevention center in

Washington, D.C., that PostSecret has aligned

with in an eort to raise awareness and unds.

Warren tells the audience that hes lost both

a close riend and a amily member to suicide,

and that when he came up with the idea or

PostSecret, he was working as a volunteer at

one o Hopelines call centers.

I wont say that theres a direct connection

between having secrets and suicide, but I think

those considering it are a lot o times weighteddown with them, he says.

For Warrens eorts, his PostSecret project

received a special award at the National Mental

Health Associations annual meeting in 2009 or

moving the cause o mental health orward.

With such a large reader base, Id rather

use the PostSecret platorm or suicide

prevention [than or commercial purposes],

he says. Ive never taken a dollar or

advertisements, but PostSecret readers have

raised hundreds o thousands o dollars or

Hopeline and suicide prevention. I think the

site has a higher purpose than ad revenue, and

I hope the readers eel that way too. I think

they do.

A Horse o a Dierent Color

Maybe they love him or his dedicationto suicide prevention, or maybe its the

voyeuristic appeal o knowing other peoples

secrets. Maybe its cathartic to send him a

postcard, or maybe checking his website has

become part o a Sunday routine. Whatever it

is, people adore Warren.

In Boston, his audience has been

If yure ruly pen he secres, heres kernel f ruh inhere h speks

ll f us.

One o the thousands o PostSecrets sent to Frank Warren.


5/20


I watched mysel stutter or the frst time in June 2001. On

the TV monitor, my ace contorted, my eyes looked down and my voice

staggered and stumbled. I elt ashamed. As a 15-year-old girl embarking on

college applications and the boys o summer, I was horried that this thing

Id tried to stife had a name but no specic cure. What I didnt know, sitting

in the clinic watching that video, was that asking a person who stutters to

slow down and relax was like asking a blind person to squint a little to see.

I even had trouble with my nameespecially with my name. Youd behard-pressed to nd a person who stutters who doesnt have trouble with

her name. Her address and phone number trigger anxiety as well. Its said

that the general populations number-one ear is public speaking, rankedeven higher than death. But to a person who stutters, I can assure you,

death seems like a picnic.

My rst memories o st uttering are seemingly random episodes thatI dont like to recall. Fearing to raise my hand in class. Required public

speaking. Sitting in English class waiting or my turn to read aloud,knowing that the jerk behind would mimic me just low enough or our

teacher not to hear.

I started stuttering when I was 6 years old. My parents never madea big deal about it. Yet eventually I realized I was constantly substituting

words and worrying about whether I would be able to say things. The

teasing and my conusion as to why I could not read aloud began to take anemotional toll.

How can a seemingly small disability maniest so largely? Imagine

walking into a party. The host comes over, extends his hand, asks yourname. Hey, Im Ssss-ssss-sss Whoa, this girls drunk! he laughs.

Yeah, me and the 3 million other people in this country who stutter.

Still, when my mother suggested we look into an intensive programat the American Institute or Stuttering in New York City, I vehemently

reused. I didnt want to acknowledge that there was anything wrong with

how I talked. Fortunately, she persisted, and nally I agreed. I walked intothe rst session o the program terried o being exposed; Id tried to hide

my stuttering or so long and had never met anyone else who stuttered

beore.Stuttering took many orms that day. It was the 16-year-old boy next

to me, head down, reusing to look up as he attempted to speak. Theoverbearing mother who mouthed her 14-year-old sons words as he tried,

to no avail, to introduce himsel. I clutched my mothers arm, desperate to

leave this place where, at the time, it seemed I could not possibly belong.I was not this severe, I thought. I knew how to say my own name. It didnt

matter that in order to do so, I would pretend to be distracted, or stomp

my oot, or blink my eye a certain way. When push came to shove, I couldsay it.

During the rst week o the program, I was orced t o come to terms

with things I hadnt understood. Foremost among t hem: Stuttering iscaused by a genetic disorder, however ar back in the amily tree, that

results in a misre between the brain and vocal cords (or vocal olds).

Instead o the olds opening to produce speech, as they do in fuentspeakers, they slam shut, causing all sorts o desperate secondary

behaviors, which range rom acial contortions to pen-clicking to strange

sounds and breathing patterns. Its as natural or a stutterer to experienceblocked speech as it is or a fuent speaker to talk normally. Try to talk

without letting any air out. Thats the beginning. Now try deliberately to

stutter. Thats how it eels or me to speak fuently: weird and unnatural.The AIS program required us to speak without secondary behaviors

rom the rst day, which is like asking a righty to write with his let hand.

In my case, I was accustomed to using the ller word um, to lookingupwards as I spoke to eign that I was t hinking (and thus draw attention

rom the act that I was struggling) and to subtly stamping my oot. I wasno longer allowed to do any o this. Once, when it took me 40 seconds to

say the word condence, I won a prize. Stuttering was rewarded here

because we were nally conronting the demon. We had to le

with it. I we were araid to stutter, there was no hope o contTo hack away at the mental component o stutteringten

in the vocal cords is increased by stresswe used desensitiz

techniques. We sat in cubicles with a phone book and called ebakery, doctors oce and gym in the city, asking what time th

Sometimes we were told to stutter on purpose; other times wprolongation techniques or reormatted breathing. The group w

and holler in applause i someone got a hang-up. All that matt

that we were doing the very thing that terried us.For so long I had cringed at things any normal speaker wo

without thinking (such as the aorementioned name, number a

Oh God, i I stutter at all, this person is going to think Im craz

challenged. Although the severity o stuttering alls on a spect

almost luckier i youre more severe. I someone asks your addstart tossing your head back and rolling your eyes, youre morea sympathetic response than i youre silent, praying you can g

without looking like youve orgotten where you live.

The AIS program helped me enough that the next summeror the annual conerence o the National Stuttering Associati

There I met people who had never experienced eective thera

rst time outside o a therapy atmosphere that many o us elto stutter openly. I saw fuent speakers patiently waiting minu

people could nally say their names. At AIS, wed been encou

the techniques we learned to generate fuency. Here, it was nto stutter.

Ive gone back to the NSA conerence every summer sinceworkshops, seminars and mixers. When I was 18, I started the

College Transition Workshop as preparation or high schoole

entered my twenties I was let in on NSA jokes, such as One ttequila, three tequila . . . Fluency! There is a sense o humor a

disorder that stutterers embrace to lighten things up. My stutt

and I requently joke about the inevitable silences that occur o

because its hard to tell when someone is silently blocking. Opatiently or each other when indeed no one is stuttering at al

Even with the AIS program and the NSA seminars, my stubrought challenges. A signicant one was introducing mysel t

o non-stuttering ellow classmates at New York University. U

point Id managed some combination o coughing, looking at thleaving the room to pull mysel through the dreaded swamp. B

the AIS-induced awareness and NSA sel-improvement and su

I had to ace the demon. I could no longer be in denial, lettingmy shame as I reused to make eye contact. Instead I stood in

the class, heart bursting, and looked at the eager aces beore

name is Ssssamantha G-G-Gennuso. No, I havent orgotten mI am indeed a p-p-person who st-st-stutters. To my amazeme

finched. I nished my introduction and sat down in an intoxica

relie and pride.The tools and techniques Ive learned require constant dil

they are not a cure. But Ive let my stuttering outopenly struname at parties and on job interviews, knowing the reaction th

will come, only to crush it with condence and a smile.

This isnt to imply Ive got it all gured out. Every stuttererbut one in particular stays with me. Its the mantra o a riend

my rst days at AIS, Bob K. Bobs stuttering was so severe tha

the commitment to practice or hours every day until he achievfuency. He let his old lie o insecurity and sel-hatred behind

I asked him i there was anything he missed, he said, My stu

because its a part o me. I thought he was crazy when I rst that, but Im starting to understand what he meant.

WhatIts

Liketo

ForgetYour

Name[Samantha Gennus]

c


6/20

assertion that Free State newcom

sometimes disagree. The project

power over people other than to b

to the state, he said, ater which t

on their own. In any case, the pro

a political party, just a medium to

people around the same liberty m

Indeed, with reedom o though

it ollows that the newcomers hold

visions o what they hope the town

just want be let alone. Others, lik

Dale Everett, a Quaker rom Georg

invisible hand o the markethe d

a strip called Anarchy in Your Hea

believe that Keene has the opport

become what San Francisco was i

mint leaves to make their statement. I really

dont understand what their point is, the

chie said.

Meola said he doesnt think the groups

camera-heavy tactics will work in the end.

In act, he sees some people mellowing as

they spend more time living in their adopted

hometown and even paying property taxes

as much as they protest the aront when they

visit the local tax oce. He said he views the

more vocal newcomers in Keene as causing

a rit within the Free State Project, between

young anarchists and working adults, anning

the fame wars that occasionally erupt on

FreeKeene.coms own message boards.

Freeman takes no issue with Meolas


As sites or protests go, this one didnt

seem to offer much potential: a sidewalk

on a quiet lane in Keene, New Hampshire,

population 22,000, where a handul o

activists stood across rom the quaint red

home o the Cheshire County Superior Court.

Past the courts drab side entrance, the

cases on the docket were not precedent-

setting. At 1:30 in the aternoon, a man

named Wallace Nolen was suing the city o

Keene or ailing to give him the municipal

employee data hed requested in the computer

ormat he wanted. The city was stalling,

saying it needed more time.

The real show was in the lobby right

outside the courtroom, where three sheris

guarded the door against Sam Dodson, a

documentary lmmaker whod already spent

58 days in jail ater reusing to turn o his

camera in the district-courthouse lobby. While

Dodson, camera held to his shoulder, asserted

his right to be there, the attorney inside was

bloviating about the minutiae o e-mailing

dierent computer le ormats.

A gaunt-aced riend o Dodsons

named Ian Freeman appealed to the deputy.

Honestly, i youd just let him in, it wouldnt

have made or a very interesting lm, he said

sarcastically. Its just boring lawyer talk.

The deputy didnt budge. Cameras

are not allowed unless a judge grants a

request, which in this case had been led

only minutes ago. As an open-government

advocate, Dodson saw the extra hoop as just

another means o making citizens beg their

government or access. The ocer and his

antagonist debated the ner points o the

policy while behind two sets o heavy wooden

doors the hearing petered out.

Ater the hearing, Dodson, Freeman and

others ollowed the parties through the lobby,

lming everything as they shufed down

the stairs. Later that day, Freeman posted

online the ootage he had recorded rom his

BlackBerry under the headline Armed Gang

Assaults Sam.

Such conrontations have become

commonplace in Keene since the launch

o the Free State Project, a libertarian

initiative conceived in 2001 to concentrate

enough people unhappy with their current

government to try to establish a new system

in a new state. They took their name rom the

abolitionists who settled in Kansas beore the

Civil War with an eye to making it a ree state.

Ater an online vote in 2003, the projects

constituents picked New Hampshirea

state sparse in population but kindred enough

in sentiment, they believed, that newcomers

might actually make an impact on the

electorate.

Ater six years, the projects website

counts more than 800 pioneers who have

made the move, toward an eventual goal

o 20,000. The new residents hail rom all

corners o the country, work in a range o

proessions and, aside rom their common

distaste or bureaucracies, oten hold very

dierent belies.

Then theres Keene, a southwestern

New Hampshire town whose claim to ame

until recently was its huge annual Pumpkin

Festival, which last year boasted 29,762

lighted pumpkins. Although many Free State

migrants have ended up in large cities like

Manchester and on the states coast, the

newcomers to this small valley town might be

the best at getting their message across

using blogs, orums, radio shows and videos

o events posted minutes ater they happen

to ght their notion o state tyranny.

Free Staters in other parts o New

Hampshire have already assumed local

elected oces, but working within the

system is not most Keene Free Staters

modus operandi. Manchester has more o

a political-activist scene, explained Free

State Project president Varrin Swearingen.

Keene is more o an anarchist, civil-

disobedient crowd.

What Keeners new neighbors lack in

political clout they compensate or in visibility.

Theres no ocial roster o Free Staters, but

those who stay active on FreeKeene.com

which hosts orums where everything to

do with local civil disobedience plays out

onlinehave proven savvy at spreading

their message via public demonstrations and

through adept use o new media.

I would say its the liberty media capital

o the country, i not the whole world, said

Freeman, who co-hosts Free Talk Live, a

libertarian talk show that beams out to 61

stations nationwide. No caller is screened

or turned away, he said.

In addition to Freemans show, the

members o the online orums o

FreeKeene.com boast a newspaper, a

syndicated comic strip, a public-access cable

television show and a TV production company.

Theyve also made their presence elt

at the local level. From marijuana smoke-

outs in the towns main square to the

public fouting o more obscure government

regulations such as license requirements or

A Granite Stateof Mind

manicurists, Keenes newest residents have

combined creativity and a erce dedication to

their ideals to gain notoriety. Their protests

have gotten them coverage in the local Keene

Sentinel, The Concord Monitor, The New

Hampshire Union Leaderand The Boston

Globeas oten as theyve landed them in jail.

It seems that the Keene area is attracting

a set o people who are o the outside-the-

system mind-set, said Freeman, who has

a git or unolding the details o his most

passionate belies with unending politeness.

I think the outside-the-system stu has

ar more potential or return on investment,

rankly. Yes, it has high risk, but high risk

yields high reward.

Freeman risked much himsel by moving

rom Florida to the relative unknown o

southwestern New Hampshire. He now lives in

an unassuming duplex with a cozy living room,

padded with sound dampeners, that serves as

the broadcast headquarters or his talk show.

His studio gets busy in the evening as co-host

Mike Edge, a wide range o guests and even

the occasional house cat stop by or a visit.

Although Free Staters constitute only a

handul o Keenes population, the transplants

have created a community Freeman admits

he kind o antasized about in Florida. With

everything thats going on, it can be hectic.

You have to be choosy . . . because theres

so much going on and you can only be in one

place at one time, he said. Thats never

anything I encountered down South.

Freemans antasy is Keene police chie

Kenneth Meolas perennial headache. For

every time the Free State migrants violate

ordinances by reusing to stand or a judge or

by causing a disturbance at a tax oce, they

also nd a way to antagonize ocers without

breaking the law. At one pro-marijuana

demonstration, or instance, protesters held

[DrewFizGerld]

Dodson reused to bring tyranny to A merica any urther.

Ian Freeman in theFree Talk Live studio, his living room.

Te Keene re isrcing se f

peple wh re f heuside-he-sysem

mind-se.

photos by Vikesh Kapoor


7/20


according to new resident Richard Onley, who

said he was there to see it.

Despite their dierences, I theres

drama, it really exists on the Internet, where

people sit behind their computers and dont

really get to sit ace-to-ace, Freeman said.

Most people get along very well.

The courts are a dierent story. Although

no arrests were made, a January hearing

over a Free State activists drivers license

was packed with bailis in anticipation o a

ray. The move was not without precedent:

In his two years as clerk or Keenes district

court, Larry S. Kane said he has seen activists

repeatedly heckle, disparage and disobey

local judges. We know when theres

someone coming in here whos a member o

the Free State Project, Kane said. Everycase where there is a Free State Project

person involved, the camera issue comes

up . . . Its not something that we need to deal

with at any other time.

Dodson, or his part, said he does not

regret bringing his camera into the courtroom,

then reusing to give his name to authorities.

One judge has a dictatorship over the

town, Dodson said; he views his nearly

two-month stint in jail ater the incident as a

demonstration o principles.

Those same principles were at work in

Dodsons choice to move to Keene in the rst

place. Like many o the newcomers, he set

upon an uncertain path, rom a high-paying

corporate job to a risky business venture he

runs out o his new home. In 2008 he was

working in Dallas or a telecommunications

company as an electrical engineer. But the

position did not sit well with him: Homeland

Security would come in all the time with

requests to query our data, he said. I realized

I was helping bring tyranny to America.

Dodson said it was newly acquired

knowledge o how to broadcast inormation

himsel that prompted him to move. Hed been

campaigning or Texas libertarian Ron Pauls

presidential bid and making public speeches

o his own when a riendly audience member

approached him. Somebody came up and

said, Do you know what a podcast is? I had

no idea.

Dodson learned, and ound a voice

through his newound skills. Having mastered

videography, he began making political

shorts with a libertarian message. Feeling

increasingly rustrated with a system he

saw as unsalvageable, he decided to take

the money hed saved up in Texas to buy a

green clapboard house a stones throw rom

Keenes central square. He started recording

public meetings and compiling video rom

a computer on the second foor o his new

home.

Dodsons girlriend, Meg McLain, who

taught him many o his multimedia skills, said

her views about government changed more

gradually. The Oregon native said coping with

a period o homelessness let her seeing the

government as inept. At rst I thought the

law could be used to help people, [but] theres

Keene Mayor Dale Pregent says the

newcomers have yet to make a large impact.

so much abuse and so [little accountability]

that you cant really prevent people rom

getting hurt, she said.

With an outt called Obscured Truth

Network, Dodson and McLain make videos

o ways to dey the system, such as fying

domestically without carrying any orm o

ID. Like Freemans brand o libertarianism,

Dodsons holds little aith in any medium o

mainstream political change. Politicians can

make minor course corrections, but I think

were moving in the wrong direction, he said.

I think the systems grown out o control, and

I dont think theres any stopping it. The lens,

not the lawmaker, is now Dodsons preerred

tool or society-wide change.

Both men said they ound out about the

Free State Project on the Internet but took thenal step to move based on the reputations

o other like-minded pioneers. In contrast

with the clear distaste they show or police

ocers, judges and other ocials, Dodson

and Freemanlike many o their ellow

Free Statersregard the movements early

movers with reverence, even when they

disagree over certain means o protest.

The reason I chose [the Free State

Project] was because people I respected

chose it, Freeman said. Some o his riends

said the same thing o him.

Friendship, in this case, oten derives

rom online acquaintance. Almost all Free

State newcomers make adept use o the

Internet. Freeman said Keene is particularly

overrepresented by libertarians who

at some point worked with inormation

technology.

That sentimento the value o the

Internet as a means o communication and

communityis shared by Free Staters both

in oces and on the streets. [Keene is] a

center o activism in New Hampshire, as

ar as Internet advertisement is concerned,

said another transplant as he stood outside

the courthouse holding a cardboard Honk

or reedom sign. The protester, who would

only give his name as Stone, wore a navy

hoodie and jeans duct-taped around his bike-

pedaling leg. His current job, he said, is to

manuacture and distribute cigarettes.

Stone isnt the only Free Stater with an

alias. Some ellow Free Keeners even reer

to each other by their online monikers. Other

members, like Freeman, who was born Ian

Bernard, answer to a pseudonymor more

accurately, a chosen name. Dodson, who once

went by the name Miller, said the decision

was more than just sel-styling. I eel like my

legal name has been usurped by the state,

he said.Stone moved to Keene rom Virginia in

September, leaving his riends and amily

behind. He does not regret the choice,

embracing the newound reedom he ound

wholesale. People are smoking out in the

square, gardening here [on government land]

and giving manicures without a license.

As Stone stood with his sign, some drivers

honked, and others ignored him. One woman

rolled down her window to question what

it was all about. Freedom rom what? she

asked, in a not-so-riendly manner.

Exactly! Stone said, emphasizing

how much he approved o the disapproving

question. Both were silent or a second beore

the driver recited: Freedom isnt ree.

Exactly!

A sot-spoken elderly man suggested

an addition to the sign. How about and

responsibility? he asked, to which Stone

conceded he thought exactly the same thing.

A ruddy-aced truck driver slowed his

vehicle. You guys are part o the 4:20

[cannabis] crowd, right?

Stone asserted they were.

You do some great work, guys, the

trucker said, pumping his st.

Keene residents have reacted by turns

indierently, supportively and angrily to their

new neighborsin ways that are as much a

unction o the locals own attitudes as o the

migrants actions.

Paige Beauregard, a cashier at The Corner

News convenience store on Main Street,

typies the stance many locals have taken

toward the out-o-towners, who are easy to

spot even in a place where odd characters are

common. New Hampshires pretty lenient,

said Beauregard. We dont really judge

people unless they make us judge them.

In this case, some Free Staters actions

have given Beauregard cause to judge. As

or the smokers on the Common . . . I think

they really could have done it a better way.

The way you need to change the law is to go

to the law, not by going out in public with an

illegal substance, she said.

Keene mayor Dale Pregent shares

Beauregards skepticism o the way Free

Staters sometimes go about doing things,

although he too stressed that they have the

right to their belies. I doubt theyve had the

impact on the city that they want to have,

Pregent said o the newcomers. As small as

this post-industrial county seat m

to outsiders, the mayor noted tha

dozen people are going to be hard

change the minds o nearly 25,00

residentsespecially in a place a

Keene. Keene is a very, very Dem

region, said Pregent, whose oc

nonpartisan, as are all local ocia

very progressive city, very environ

riendly.

Other locals ear what may re

the Free Stater presence. At Lindy

a greasy-spoon establishment tha

Fluernutter sandwiches along w

typical breakast and lunch are, r

librarian John Blomquist expresse

reservations. A resident o nearby

Blomquist regrets how his once-phas been choked by the surge o

and said he eared the same or K

Blomquist also seemed somewha

I suppose you have to look at it t

Theyre going to do it anyway, h

Stone would agree. I believe

in my lietime, he said. Im read

out i this is possible. The 800-a

Free Staters have rallied under th

battle cry, and or many the starti

is this small town in the oothills

Hampshire. FreeKeene.com procl

place the world destination or p

civil disobedience and noncooper

will tell. Meanwhile, Stone will f

passing motorists with his handhe

and Freeman will host his radio sh

will keep showing up at court, cam

shoulder, hopingor maybe not

powers that be will let him in. c

Every cse where

here is Free SePrjec persn

invlved, he cmerissue cmes up.


8/20


o the second day. What point this narrative was supposed

puzzles me still. I didnt ask, though. In my experience, tho

awkward questions tend not to be invited to parties. I neve

storytelling game, but I suspect that those who do are lyin

exaggerating. Otherwise I dont believe they would still be

least without a dozen illegitimate children.

Meanwhile, the courtship game continued. All around m

on the ship were engaged ina wonderul euphemism

up. What hooking up exactly m eans varies in denition rom

to person, but vocabulary was the least o what some were

Although in retrospect it seems inevitable, I was still surpr

sheer number o people who ound someone special, i on

hours. The negative aspect o being in such a small commu

that there was little space should riction develop post-rom

way to avoid people ater the mind cleared. Confagrations

tears were all too common. Ater careully considering the

I decided to pursue riendship instead. From the rumors tha

around the ship aster than the

sea birds we sailed by,

others came to that

conclusion ar too

late. Rationally,

Im glad I didnt

get sucked into it, but

96 percent o me could have

swung my decision in another direction.

It wasnt until I sat at breakast the morning we sailed

I realized that or all my internally aloo analysis, I was justin this group as anyone. My very involvement had delayed

that the social aspects o the trip were now much more en

to me than I could ever have imagined. Four percent may b

distinguishes human rom chimpanzee DNA, but I choose t

is a compliment to chimps, rather than a slur to humanity.

thought, I nished my banana.

his shadowing o the brunette near him was eective in gaining her

admiration, or was he perhaps oblivious to how he looked? It took

some eort to silence these kinds o thoughts, but or once I didnt

nd them more interesting than actually participating. To the

contraryI encouraged my inner chimp to strangle the pedantic

lecturer in my head.

To adapt to lie on the ship, some chose a dierent kind o

gameless transparent but oten with stricter rules. To take part, the

participants wore nice dresses, button-down shirts and suit jackets. Im

pretty sure I even saw someone in a tie. Together they headed or Pub

Night, a ew hours o overpriced beer and overblown expectations.

Not even the most ardent o us literal game-players were unaware

o this other way that college-age people play. Sometimes the og o

hormones was thick enough to make me dizzy. Actually, that might have

been rom walking into a pole when a particularly pretty girl walked

by, wating perume as she passed. A multitude o dents would have

marked the passage o some students had the ship been made o

less durable material. For those who were singleand or some who

were notthe week oered an unrivaled opportunity to preen, strut

and otherwise parade themselves to an essentially captive audience.

Even i this posturing was not done consciously, the methodically

questioning part o me could not help but see the chimpanzees in their

ght or hierarchy and the rewards o being on top.

The most common on-board struggle or dominance took the orm

o storytelling, ultimately just a more civilized version o pung out

the chest, screeching and throwing sticks in the air. No matter how

crazy or outlandish the tale told, someone else sitting with the group

attempted to top it and thereby usurp the tellers dominance.

At one point, a ellow traveling scholar told us about how he

had drunk an entire bottle o vodka by himsel one night and had

barely elt sick the next morning. No sooner did the echoes o his

tale o sel-abuse die away than a girl jumped in with an account

o how shed gone on a two-day bender, drinking bottle ater bottle

o liquor. The only noticeable eect: her complete lack o memory

Four percent o my DNA is all that stands between me

anda chimpanzee.Despite humanitys intellectual and technical

accomplishments, only a ractional dierence in genetic identity

separates looking or lie on Mars rom looking or lice on a

neighbors ur.

I remember watching Discovery Channelspecials on chimpanzees

and their entertaining antics, but what always struck me about those

shows was what they said about chimpanzee society. Chimpanzees

and other great apes apparently live a social lie complex enough to

be understood only by a dedicated genius like Jane Goodallor by

someone who really likes soap operas.

The same, o course, is true or

humans. Even when disguised by ancy

clothes and good manners, our primate

essence comes through. Indeed, while I

pride mysel on my analytical nature, it

only took one week in the summer o 2008

to make a monkey out o me. I spent that

summer traveling Europe on an academic

cruise program called Semester at Sea.

When I boarded the ship, I had no real expectations or the rst week,

the one that would take me and 600 other college students rom Nova

Scotia to Norway. I was ocused on what would happen once the ship

docked in port. The onshore explorations and academic aspects o the

summer loomed larger than any social consideration. I assumed that

rst week would be dull and I would spend most, i not all, o my time

alone. I crammed my iPod with movies and packed books ( Moby Dick

and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea) to keep me busy.

What I had ailed to oresee was how very m uch this rst part

o the trip w ould be like a psychological experimentor, to be more

precise, a chemistry one. Take one cruise ship; add college students

with an exciting summer ahead o them. Make sure that most o

them have never met beore. Grant them a maximum o ree time by

ensuring that all mundane chores are taken care o. Remove nearly all

supervision. Add a dash o alcohol, and shake well on an empty ocean

or eight days. Use caution when examining contents, as the blast

o hormones could strip away the inhibitions and common sense o

anyone without proper protective gear.

The moment the ship began to move, there was a sense o

uncertainty about how we might get to know one another in this

strange, unstructured environment. Lacking lice to groom, we turned to

play in much the same way young chimps mightto bond and engage

with our peers.

Everyone brought out the games, songs and jokes they knew rom

childhood. Swept up in the ervor, I dredged up memories o summer

camp and kindergarten or the things I

used to do with my riends beore we

had video games. The sentence-orming

hodgy-podgy was a particular avorite.

The videographer o the voyage even

lmed us, teen or so college students

sitting in a circle holding hands as we

passed a clap to the nonsensical rerain.

All the chairs in the room were occupied

by people laughing at the ridiculousand requently risqu

sentences we would compose to the rhythm o clapping hands and

slapping knees. O course, ailing to nish a sentence (and we usually

ailed) made us laugh even more. The zenith o the night came when

we all decided to play a variant o hide-and-seek called sardines, in

which only one person hides and everyone else has to search or him or

her. Not as intimate as eating parasites and bits o dead skin o each

others backs, but certainly a cleaner orm o bonding.As much un as I was having, the logical part o my brain still

kept clicking away, ling observations, comparing phenomena and

attempting both to explain and predict the behavior o those around

me. Was the enthusiastic girl encouraging us all to play really excited

about the game, or did she just want to be the center o attention?

Did the giggling ellow bouncing like a concussed kangaroo think c

Apes at Sea[Eric Hl Schwrz]

I nly k ne week in hesummer f 2008 mke

mnkey u f me.


9/20


The barbarian warrior shouts a battle

cry as he brings his twin swords down. The

man beore him alls. Chest heaving, the

warrior steps back rom the now-prone gure.

Turning, he issues a command to his ellows

and sprints past the dueling swordsmen and

allen bodies that ll the woods. The red sash

on his tunic fares behind him. Out o sight o

the battleground, behind a lodge, he removes

his glasses and wipes them clean, careul not

to smudge the tribal paint on his ace. Ryan

Cohen may be a warlord at the moment, but

he wont be able to do much rampaging the

rest o the weekend i he cant see. And as a

game director or the Steam and Cinders live-

action role-playing game, he has more than

marauding to do.

Fortunately, Cohen is not the onlyone coordinating the our dozen players

spending the weekend at Camp Denison,

in Georgetown, Massachusetts. Fiteen

staers together try to ensure that players are

continually involved in exciting adventures.

Indeed, the two-year-old Steam and Cinders

and its parent company, Be Epic, can be

counted a success thanks largely to their

eorts and those o Cohen and Be Epic

president Mike Kanarekall in the context

o the rising popularity o Live Action Role-

Playing games and the many participants

(LARPers) in New England.

LARPing is a combination o antasy

tabletop games, historical reenactment and

improvisational acting. Game creators render

everything rom accents to the very laws o

physics in as much detail as possible, andplayers work to make their characters come

alive. Ultimately, those involved create a

shared world.

Kanarek has been LARPing since he was

16 and, like many o the players and sta

at Steam and Cinders, has been involved in

several ongoing games, oten simultaneously.

In that sense, hes a true LARP veteran.

Today, comortable in his ake acial hair and

military uniorm, the 28-year-old calmly sends

out his team to deal with crises, checks on

dinner (prepared by the wie o a player) and

otherwise parlays his years o experience

into running what to an uninormed observer

appears to be a madhouse with a costume

budget. You get good at pre-empting res,

he says. And while both Kanarek and Cohen

currently work ull time (Kanarek as a quality

assurance tester or the online Lord o the

Ringsvideo game and Cohen as a manager or

a medical-device company), they both want

to grow Be Epic as a business, involving more

people and eventually starting more games.

They are even using the LARP as a way toapply or business school.

Steam and Cinders epic journey began in

July 2007 ater a barbecue during w hich ve

LARPing riends conceived a new game, one

they could run together. While they enjoyed

the games they were in, Kanarek says, they

wanted something newsomething dierent

rom the typical magic realms. We were

sick o the antasy genre, Kanarek says.

So the group decided to go or steampunk,

an entirely dierent realm o the antastic.

Steampunk takes the world o the nineteenth

century and asks, What i we had ollowed

the visions o Jules Verne and H.G. Wells,

creating mechanical computers, steam-driven

machine guns, and all the other extrapolations

o the uture based on then-current society

and technology? Steampunks rising popularityin books, games, movies and comics led the

group to use the constructs and themes o the

genre, situated on a new world named Tellus

in a rontier town called Iron City.

The group started sharing visions and

ideas, attempting to tame the wild notions

LARP[Eric Hal Schwrz]

Lieutenant and Lady Weathersby

in their heads. We were ranting

ideas while nobody else listened,

remembers. Id say 99 percent o

had at that point got scrapped by

Ater a month o twelve-hour mee

maniacal rule- and world-making,

was ready to test its intricate crea

nest LARP tradition: War Day. I

a horrible train wreck, Kanarek s

at memories o the event. Cohen

was a lot o un, he says. But he

playing is generally less stressul

a game, especially an untested on

In any event, the group persev

though the beta testing had not g

as hoped. The ounders, along wit

riends, continued to rene the ru

with the mundane necessities o place to play and arranging insura

and everything else. They settled

Denison, which had plenty o spa

isolated enough that the game

get noisywouldnt bother neigh

in April 2008, the team was ready

rst real event.

It took only casual marketing a

promotion to draw people to the c

that inaugural game. We relied m

word-o-mouth, Kanarek says, ad

the Internet was useul in coordin

weekend was not without growin

misunderstood rules, along with u

about the tone and structure o th

but the sta had expected that.

way its supposed to work and the

work, Cohen says. But the 40 or that rst game gave enough posit

to keep the game alive, and enco

sta to dream even bigger.

Steam and Cinders is now pla

six times a year: three games in th

three in the spring, with a ew ext

In character: Sir Alcock and Mrs. Cragswagger

photos by Vincent BancheriMe Good


10/20


in like a winter east and small-group summer

events. Kanarek and Cohen arent araid to get

their hands dirty, either, actively participating

whenever possible. You can do more good

out in the game, Kanarek says. You cant

just wait or problems to come to you.

Up at the camp, players wander through

the woods or sit at picnic tables discussing

their latest exploits, always in character, until

sucked into a new storyline by sta members.

The plots range rom baroque political

schemes to a straight battle against raiders,

most o whom are junior staersor, as they

are ondly called, crunchies. Theyll play

bandits or things that are pretty disposable,

and then they go crunch, Kanarek says by

way o explanation. Bruises and aches are not

uncommon, but there havent been any serious

injuries.

Near the picnic tables set up

in a clearing, an elaborate, brightly

colored tent beckons. Inside, Brit

Knowlesor Sanura, as she is

known around Iron Citycareully

puts together alchemical grenades

(beanbags or four wrapped in

tissues), while explaining the utility

o these and other instruments. Her

characters accent, a mix o Russian

and Arabic, adds mystique to the

tea-scented space.Commerce in Steam and Cinders

is possible thanks to the gold coins

designed by the sta and sold or

the game. Each coin displays a coat

o arms on one side and the prole

o the queen (actually one o the staers) on

the other. One o our goals in this game was

to not need suspension o disbelie, Kanarek

says. We want it to eel real. To achieve

that level o verisimilitude, Kanarek, Cohen

and the rest o the sta create elaborate

props, like period newspapers and ocial

notices, storing them and other equipment in

the nearby sta center, known as the Mine

Oce.

The inside o the Mine Oce looks

like the result o a high-speed collision

o a Renaissance air with a comic-bookconvention and historical-reenactment society.

Heaps o swords and shields lie piled next to

racks o costumes, while tables o guns await

the next battle and pseudo-parchment posters

issue admonitions to the people o Iron City.

The edged weapons are all heavily padded or

made o sot plastic, and the guns are mainly

A stockpile o weapons in the Mine Oce.

Ner weapons, painted and modied to look

like brass and steel, evoking a technology

that never was. The mix o styles is an

absinthe addicts dream o the Wild West,

Victorian England and pure antasy. But its

the row o cabinets orested with taped-on

sheets o colored paper that commands the

attention o most o the sta in the room.

Each sheet lists a story or activity and all the

sta and equipment needed, and each one

advances either the narrative o Tellus or the

development o individual characters.

Running a Steam and Cinders event is

urther complicated by ongoing shits in the

roster o players. Theres a lot o turnover

in the game, Kanarek says. People leave

and come back a lot. The sheets lining the

wall o the Mine Oce are really just the

tip o the creative iceberg necessary to keep

things afoat. Happily or Cohen and Kanarek,

the sta is more than up to the challenge.

When Kanarek calls over several people to

organize a raid, he can count on them to ollow

the elaborate tactics and the subtle story

underlying the attack (in this case, the crash

o an airship). A risson o excitement moves

through the room as a ew staers intently

pack a crate with weapons, ammunition and

other goodies or players to discover. We

have just as much un as the players, Cohen

says. The players themselves oten are old

hands, participating in several ongoing gamesat once. College students and recent graduates

make up a majority o the population. Some

participants are sta members o other LARPs

who come to Steam and Cinders just to play.

They tend to be some o the best, Kanarek

says. They understand that I poured my heart

into this thing.

For those looking or a LARP, New England

oers one o the largest such extended

communities in the country. More than a

hal-dozen venues oer everything rom war

games with minimal character development to

LARPs like Steam and Cinders with elaborate

histories and multiarious cultures. Settings

range rom ctional-but-realistic to Tolkien-

esque with diverse species as characters.

Knowles compares LARPs to romantic

prospects. LARPing is a lot like dating, she

says. Some are xer-upper boyriends, and

some really have everything together. You get

dierent things out o dierent games.

Occasionally LARP romance is more than

metaphor. Knowles hersel met her boyriend

at her rst game, when she played a savage

barbarian. He was dressed as a spirit

who sent me out to the w oods to die, she

remembers. Kanarek, the boyriend

in question, simply laughs when

questioned about the incident.

Actually, there are many

couples playing the game, including

some sets o husbands and wives,

although their characters do

not always refect the real-lie

relationship. Men outnumber

women at Steam and Cinders,

though less overwhelmingly than

in other LARPs. In most LARP

games, there is a ve-to-one ratioo males to emales, Kanarek says,

but Steam and Cinders comes

out to about a two-to-one ratio o

guys to girls. Not that such gender

imbalance really matters with so

many costumes and wigs lying around. At

every LARP you go to, at some point in the

course o the season theyre going to put a

guy in a wig and a dress, Cohen says, and

the emale sta dont hesitate to go the other

way when called on.

While there are plans to make Be Epic

protable, right now the reward or the

weekend is the experience itsel. Its a

real labor o love, Cohen says. Ater a

weekend o running around ensuring that 50

people are having un, dealing with crises

both in-game and out and sleeping almostnot at all, sometimes he and Kanarek ask,

Why do we keep doing this to ourselves?

But even as they leave, ideas or new plots

and new adventures start to percolate, and

excited e-mails begin to fy back and orth in

preparation or the return to Tellus. c

The Savage Circle in Iron City.


11/20


WillBxforAn Olympic Drive to Become a United States Citizen

Tamerlan Tsarnaev is a boxer from Chechnya whocurrently trains at the Wai Kru Mixed Martial ArtsCenter in Boston, Massachusetts. Tsarnaev entersnational Golden Gloves competitions in hopes that hemight be selected for the next U.S. Olympic team andbecome a naturalized American.

1. Tsarnaev works out at the Wai Kru MixedMartial Arts Center.

2. Though hes lived in the U.S. or ve years,Tsarnaev says, I dont have a single Americanriend. I dont understand them.

3. Tsarnaev, who studies at Bunker Hill CommunityCollege in Boston and wants to become anengineer, took the semester o rom school totrain or the competition.

4. Tsarnaevs amily fed Chechnya in thbecause o the confict there. He livebeore coming to the United States a

5. In the absence o an independent ChTsarnaev says he would rather compU.S. than or Russia.

6. Tsarnaev stops to answer a call whilhis boxing practice.

7. Im dressed European style, Tsarna

1 3

4 6

2 5 7

[Johannes Hirn]

PaSSPoRt:


12/20


108

9 13

8. Tsarnaev says he loves the movie Borat, even though some o thejokes are a bit much.

9. When you start kicking, it gets dirty. Thats what I think, saysTsarnaev. O kickboxers, he says, They dont know how to move.

10. Tsarnaev says he doesnt generally remove his shirt when amongwomen at the gym.

11. Tsarnaev, a Muslim, doesnt drink or smoke. God said no alcohol,he says.

12. Tsarnaev demonstrates a way o walking to strengthen the ankles.In Russia, we used to train like this, he says. Here nobody doesit. I dont know why!

13. Tsarnaev takes a break rom his boxing practice.

11

12


13/20


Eye shadow still gives me trouble. My hair is perpetually in its

ponytail. My closet is ull o shorts not skirts, sneakers not stilettos.

I could probably use a little help.

When I got to middle school, I laid down my Barbies and picked up

a basketball. A decade o sports and two reconstructive knee surgeries

later, I still dont know how to put curlers in my hair, still keep my nails

short, still wake up and unconsciously dress or a basketball practice

I havent gone to in years.

Its not an easy transition rom emale athlete to . . . emale. The

admission eels like the catharsis o a twelve-step group in a church

basement, but AA doesnt stand or Athletes Anonymous.

Hi, Im Katie, and Im a ormer basketball player.

It wasnt always like thisI wasnt born to be an athlete. Onceupon a time, I categorized basketball as a boy sport; I used gym class

to study the intricacies o French-braiding hair rom the saety o the

sidelines. But the beautiul girls in th grade were beloved by boys and

upperclassmen alike, and many

o those girls were stars on the

basketball team. With inallible

tween logic, I determined that

all I had to do to be embraced by

the middle-school hierarchy was

to be good at basketball, too.

So I sauntered into my

rst team practice, wearing

new jeans and cute shoes. I

was ill-prepared to see my

once-precious classmates

transormed: grosgrain

headbands replaced with

dripping sweatbands, well-coordinated outts traded or

mens undershirts and gym shorts. My mind raced. What world

was this?

Things worsened once I stepped onto the hardwood foor. I got

winded running the laps around the gym and stopped, pretending to

retie my now tragically un-cute shoes. My oul shots ell hopelessly

short o the rim; hard passes bounced o my ngertips.

I learned several lessons in those 90 minutes o sport: Actually

participating in gym class can make middle-school girls astonishing

athletes; crying is a punishable oense (more laps, less oxygen,

more tears, repeat); I was going to need a completely new wardrobe;

basketball is, most assuredly, not simply a boy sport.

I wont lie: For a long time, I was the worst one on the team. My

dad and I would go to our basement every night, turn on the NBA

(maybe Id improve via osmosis), and pass the basketball to each other

or as long as itd take me to catch twenty in a row.

Some nights were embarrassingly long.

Eventually, though, Id catch m ore than Id drop. I learned the names

o the Knicks starting lineup and could parrot the announcers (Did you

see that zone deense? Van Gundys out o his mind!). I shoved T-shirtsadorned with fowers deep into the recesses o my closet and bought

boys basketball sneakers. I stopped crying.

Its a delicate balance, growing up as both a girl and an athlete.

Truly dedicated players dont wear earrings or necklaces with their

baggy T-shirtsthose are telltale signs o the inexperienced, the

wannabes. A well-put-together outt is key or a trip to the mall with

your riends; match your shirt to your shorts at practice, and you look

like youre trying too hard. M akeup? Nail polish? Your mother may have

nally relented, but what would your coach think?

High school brought new challenges. The adolescent identity crisis

is never more pronounced. Teens wander the halls trying to understand

who they are by sorting their peers according to what they do. Those

destined or the Ivy League read about high school rom the saety o

the library. Up-and-coming Tony winners sing and dance as i the Great

White Way were lined with lockers. I carried my basketball with me

everywhere, and so I was happily dened as an athlete.

This is not to say that I orsook my high-school emininity entirely.

I was excited to be the Spice Girls with my riends at Halloween; itwas simply understood that Id be Sporty Spice. I pored over issues

o Cosmo, Seventeenand Sports Illustratedwith equal enthusiasm.

A good night o television was fipping between Sex and the Cityand

SportsCenter.

Those small indulgences were all I allowed mysel. Its an unspoken

rule o emale athletes: Be girly, or be the best, because you cant be

both. You have to choose whats more important to you: letters rom

Division I college-basketball coaches or a date to your senior prom? (I

nabbed a last-minute date to mine: a riends cousin, who borrowed my

cell phone halway through to call his girlriend. Awkward.)

Some girls try to straddle the line, but they get weeded out; i you

didnt go on to play in college, that was nebut it was because you

didnt want it badly enough. As girls my age detly wielded kohl pencils

to practice eyeliner application, I had a Sharpie in hand to perect my

signature; I would be ready or the throngs o little girls who would one

day swarm around me with their Ryan jerseys and WNBA regulation

basketballs.

But my dreams o a uture in the pros were dimmed ater some

substantial injuries. Blowing out ligaments in one knee has been

enough to derail the careers o several proessional athletes; I hadreconstructive surgeries on both o my kneesone a year beore

the other, both beore I graduated high school. Somehow, though,

I couldnt give up. Id worked so hard

on this identity. Who was I, without

my basketball?

Even with the surgeries, I was still

recruited by some colleges to play, and

so I only applied to schools where I

could be on the basketball team. But my

collegiate career was short-lived; my

bionic knees couldnt hold up, and I let

the team ater my reshman year.

The morning ater I stepped down, I rose at 6 a.m. ready or the

team run, and realized I could simply turn over and go back to bed.

But how could I sleep? Id awakened to discover that Id become an

amputee: Had anyone seen the mass that was once attached to my

right hand? Twenty ounces or so, bright orange, answers to Spalding?

Just like that, I was back to square one. For m ore than ten years, Ihad dedicated my lie to sports, shunning anything that would not get

me closer to my goalseven outward signs o my own emaleness.

And what had it gotten me? Joints that snap, crackle and pop more

than my bowl o cereal in the morning, a closet ull o sweatpants and

little idea who I was when I looked in the mirror.

And the beautiul, sporty girls o th grade had now evolved into

beautiul women, with manicured nails, silk blouses and high-school

sweethearts. How had I missed the priority

shit? We had once scoed at girls who

breathed anything other than basketball; when

did we become them, I wondered?

I had some catching up to do. I w ent through

tubes o liquid eyeliner and bottles o nail polish. I

bought heels and blouses and blazers. I even threw

away my prized team sweatpants.

Becoming a girl was soon part o my m orning routine

emininity became another layer to apply. I still woke up an

hoodie, but Id police mysel and return it to the closet or a

There was time in my scheduleater brushing my teeth b

my coeespecially slotted or makeup application. Id evhouse without a ponytail holder so Id have no way to sabo

in the middle o the day.

Yet somehow, I elt like a a

But a ake what, exactly? No

long it may take me to master m

or how many days I sneak past m

a hoodie (i I didnt see it, it didn

the girl who French-braided hair

sidelines is the same girl who ra

boys basketball sneakers.

Lets ace it: Its hard enough

up at all. We spend our youths c

ourselves to our peers, jockeying or position. Eventually w

morning to a dawning maturity, and wonder whom our pee

emulating while weve been so busy emulating them. May

up means simply accepting who you are, even i youre not

who that is.

Although Im coming to terms with the unconventionalemininity has taken, my closet is the nal rontier, where t

schizophrenic vestiges remain. High heels Ill only wear to

lie dormant next to sneakers Ill only wear on hardwood co

are sequins, and there are sweatpants. I I could gure out

them together, I probably would.

What can I say? My wardrobe, my emininity, meits

progress.

Lipstickand[Katie Ryn]

Layups

c

Smehw, hugh, I culdngive up. Id wrked s hrd

n his ideniy. Wh ws I,wihu my bskebll?


14/20

25 thecm

Desiny USa:Te Story of a Mega-Mall and a City

The gates o wonderland opened. Buses

drove past a man-made lake with so many

trout that they could be pulled out by hand.

Hunters o the transported wildlie at the

reserve waved as the buses passed on their

way to a mansion-sized log cabin.

To the 200 people who gazed at Savannah

Dhu through the buses tinted windows, the

landscape must have seemed wholly

unamiliar, a world much arther away rom

their hometown o Syracuse, New York, than

the hours drive would suggest. It was October

2005, and the men and women on board the

buses were there to be shown that they too

could be part o a antasy, as the same man

who had created Savannah Dhu planned

to transorm an aging Syracuse mall into a

mega-mall that would rival any in the nation.

It sounded almost too good: The simple

Carousel Center that had been around since

1990 would morph into Destiny USAa

rival o the Mall o America and maybe even

o Disney World, i the advertisements in

the current mall were rightwhich in turn

would transorm the struggling city. The men

and women on the buses had been hired as

the workorce to execute a plan that some

were calling grand and others w ere calling

grandiose.

Already artists renderings had made the

project look like an elaborate science-ction

conglomeration o commerce, entertainment

and luxury. There would be a replica o the

Erie Canal, 400 stores, rock-climbing walls, an

aquarium, two gol courses, 1,300 hotel rooms

and an arena. More than 122,000 jobs would

be created, and $12.5 billion allegedly would

course throughout the state as a direct result

o the tourism destination.

The workers must have been hopeul as

they listened to Savannah Dhus owner, Robert

Congel, speak about how he came rom humble

beginnings like many o them, and how Destiny

USA would become a reality. Destiny USA

would change the lives o Syracusans by giving

a living wage to those who had been working

at ast-ood joints and gas stations, providing

opportunities, and enhancing the citys collective

well-being. The workers werent the only ones

who would hear Congelthe magnate behind

Pyramid Companies, owner o Carousel and the

largest private developer o shopping malls in

the United Statesgive his pitch. Politicians

and infuential citizens were also bused to

Savannah Dhu to hear the Destiny USA pep talk,

including how Congel had begun his empire in

1970 right there in Syracuse.

Little did the employees know that within

three months most o them would be laid

o. Hal a decade later, the only sign o the

abulous development is a 900,000-square-

oot gray appendage to the side o Carousel

mall, built by contractors rom out o state.

There are no tenants or the new structure,

and the high hopes and tax dollars residents

invested in the process are stymied.

It sounded too good to be true. Maybe

it was.

The city o Syracuse is known more

or snow accumulation than as any kind o

tourism mecca. But even though its won the

Golden Snowball Award (a competition among

upstate New York cities or which has the

most snowall in a given season) every year

since 2002, there is much more to their city,

residents say. Syracuse University and other

colleges are within the city limits. Many parts

o the city are inviting places in which to live.

The countryside is a teen-minute drive away.

Yet none o these attributes alters the

economic reality that Syracuse has aced

in the past ew decades as a poster child

or post-industrial decline. A city with deep

blue-collar roots, rom Erie Canal commerce

to manuacturing, Syracuse has not recovered

rom the departure o its largest employers.

General Electric is gone, and the Carrier

Corporation, a once-stable core o the

economy, is just a hazy memory let behind

as a moniker on Syracuse Universitys Carrier

Dome stadium. Over time, the Rust Belt has

tightened around Syracuse, taking much o

its vitality with it. Empty storeronts have

accumulated downtown. The population has

dwindled rom 221,000 in 1950 to roughly

140,000 today.

It was to this compromised, once-proud

city that Congel made his pitch, according

to local developer Bob Doucette. Doucette,

who is also a proessor at LeMoyne College,

describes the situation as he sees it rom

his oce in the middle o Armory Square, a

downtown neighborhood that he has been

instrumental in reviving. The King o Armory

Square, as Doucette is sometimes called, says

[eresa Grmn]

the instability o Syracuse made it

to accepting any leadership or mo

People are willing to grab anythin

looks like a lieline, Doucette, say

orward. I it bears some resemb

preserver, they grab or it.

Destiny USA wasnt the rs

Congel had tried to alter the land

hometown. In the 1980s, he won

politicians to his plan to have Pyr

mall in Syracuse. The mall would

generate revenue. The clincher w

promise to build on top o part o

toxic dump on the shores o Onon

which had earned a reputation as

polluted lake in the nation. The n

acres occupied by nine active oil

were surrounded by 700 more ac

decrepit buildings.

Pyramid spent millions cleani

contamination on the 75-acre ma

dedicated more to the dump surr

it. Carousel Center opened in 199

concerns that such a thing w as n

Can a Mall at a Toxic Dump Rev

Syracuse? asked a New York Tim

on October 17, 1990. The econom

not occur to the extent the city ha

the condos and oces supposed

the mall never appeared, but Pyra

continue to clean up the area.

People who credited Congel w

the Syracuse economy the rst tim

were more likely to be on board t

time. Syracuse Common Council P

Robinson, or one, says the Oil C

and mall development were a bo

To expand it would only have ma

he says in retrospect. Though Van

was elected in 2006, sixteen yea

original mall opened, he ran unsu

the council in 1987 and would ha

an expanded plan then, he says.

rom all over to shop here, Van R

says. They come rom Canada, t

tour buses. More would come i D

was built.

Perhaps Congel, who was not

an interview, heard those echoes

and they will come, though Pyram

more than a eld in mind when th

project was rst presented. In 20

drew about 17 million visitors. By

plans called or Destiny USA to d

million people in a year. The price

$15 billion with all phases compl

A enced-in construction area o Arendi, the rst phase o Destiny USA, near a

parking lot o Carousel Center. The Lord & Taylor has been in Carousel Center since

1993, three years ater the shopping mall opened.

24

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