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Pastimes : The New Qualcomm - write what you like thread. -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?


To: Maurice Winn who wrote (6144)4/8/2003 11:38:04 PM
From: Jon Koplik  Respond to of 12231
 
NYT article on subway token suckers.

April 8, 2003

A Disgusting Practice Vanishes With the Token

By RANDY KENNEDY

In five days, when the last New York City subway token
slides through the slot of the last booth to sell them, few
people will notice and fewer will care. There will be no
official ceremony to mark the passing. If there is music in
the background, it will not be taps; it will be the
bleating song that turnstiles sing to valid MetroCards.

But off in a corner, hidden in the shadows where things
begin to smell bad, at least a few observers will notice
and care quite a lot. They belong to a sad and desperate
breed of criminal that has been in decline for a long time,
one that will soon become as irrelevant as bootleggers and
horse thieves.

Officially, the crime is classified as theft of Transit
Authority property. But among transit police officers it is
more accurately and less delicately known as token sucking.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, it is exactly what it
sounds like.

The criminal carefully jams the token slot with a matchbook
or a gum wrapper and waits for a would-be rider to plunk a
token down. The token plunker bangs against the locked
turnstile and walks away in frustration. Then from the
shadows, the token sucker appears like a vampire, quickly
sealing his lips over the token slot, inhaling powerfully
and producing his prize: a $1.50 token, hard earned and
obviously badly needed.

Even among officers who had seen it all, it was widely
considered the most disgusting nonviolent crime ever to
visit the subway.

"It gave you the willies," said Brendan J. McGarry, a
veteran transit police officer. "We've had cases every so
often, these guys would end up choking and swallowing the
tokens. Then what do you do? You've got to wait for the
evidence to come out?"

In truth, most token suckers usually had enough evidence
already in their pockets to warrant locking them up - some
of the most dedicated were able to extract more than $50
worth of tokens a day. And deterrence, when dealing with
someone willing to clamp his mouth to one of the most
public surfaces in all of New York City, was next to
impossible.

"These guys were on their last legs," Officer McGarry said.
"If they were going to jail, it was just an inconvenience
for them." (In an interview with a reporter for The Los
Angeles Times in the early 1990's, one token sucker
acknowledged the depths of his desperation. "Hard times
makes you do it," he explained, adding: "Anyways, I've
kissed women that's worse.")

Eddie Cassar, a retired transit officer, recalled making
his first token-sucker arrests in the late 1970's, and by
the time he retired in 1982, there was already a dedicated
corps of inhalers, mostly teenagers and homeless men,
working the station at 42nd Street and Eighth Avenue. By
1989, with the rise of the crack trade, token sucking
reached almost unbelievable proportions.

During a typical summer week, repair crews were sent on
1,779 calls to fix turnstiles in a system that had 2,897
turnstiles in all. More than 60 percent of the calls
involved paper stuffed into the token slots. (A related
subway crime involved people who disabled the turnstiles
and charged riders cut-rate fees to enter through the
gates, to which they had stolen keys. These criminals,
somewhat higher on the social ladder than token suckers,
were known affectionately as trolls.)

Occasionally, methods other than incarceration were
employed to dissuade the suckers. Token booth clerks were
known to sprinkle chili powder into the token slots most
often jammed. Some officers resorted to spraying a small
amount of Mace around the regular slots and keeping an eye
out for the usual suspects. The ones with bright red lips
were then arrested.

By the time the MetroCard was introduced in the mid-1990's,
token suckers could sense the beginning of the end. But
Officer McGarry said that even the introduction of advanced
new turnstiles did little more than thin their ranks. By
the late 1990's, he said, he was on a first-name basis with
many of the sad token holdouts, who would probably never
adapt to MetroCard crimes.

"It was almost like having some kind of rapport with these
guys," he said. There was one tall, thin homeless man, he
said, who was even pleasant about the whole process. "He'd
say, `Hi, Mac,' when I caught him. And I'd say `Hi' back,
and he'd just walk up to me like a poodle, and I'd tell him
to turn around and put his arms behind his back."

Lately, he said, he spots only three old-time token suckers
around the Midtown area and only one who is still known to
be at it occasionally. But Officer McGarry can't even
remember the last time he locked the man up. In the end, he
said, technology may have killed the token sucker. But the
crime itself did a pretty good job.

"These guys had a lot of various diseases," he said. "You
name it, they had it. You don't last too long in that line
of work."

Copyright 2003 The New York Times Company.



To: Maurice Winn who wrote (6144)4/9/2003 8:52:29 AM
From: Jon Koplik  Respond to of 12231
 
WSJ on U.S. trash (and recycling stuff) ending up in China.

April 9, 2003

Junk Bond: How U.S. Trash Helps Fuel China's Economy

Surging Exports of U.S. Scrap Provide Raw Materials for Car Parts, Newsprint

By JON E. HILSENRATH
Staff Reporter of THE WALL STREET JOURNAL

In late February, nine-year-old Kevin Sayad finished a two-page homework assignment on fractions. After he went over it with his fourth-grade teacher and reviewed it with his parents, the homework was discarded at his New Jersey home.

But that wasn't the end of the line for the boy's homework. When he tossed out that piece of paper, Kevin was actually tossing in a small contribution to the trade between two economic giants, the U.S. and China.
[image]

Kevin's scrap ended up in a Clifton, N.J., recycling plant on March 5. There, it was dumped into a giant green paper baler, shoved with 1,500 pounds of other paper into a rectangular jumble bound by thick steel wire and stuffed into a shipping container destined for Ningbo, a port city on China's eastern seaboard. In China, the boy's discarded homework will be sold to a paper mill that gobbles up America's throwaways and spits out new paper products.

American exports to China are booming in an unlikely area: junk. Every year, tons of metal from discarded cars and old household appliances, paper from empty cardboard boxes and crumpled newspapers, and plastic from dumped soda bottles are processed, piled onto ships and sent across the ocean. There they become the raw material for paper mills, steel mills and other factories, feeding China's fast-growing, export-oriented industrial economy.

Last year, the U.S. exported waste and scrap to China with an estimated value of $1.2 billion, up from $194 million five years earlier, according to Commerce Department data. Scrap is now the nation's third-largest export to China, after airplanes and semiconductors and ahead of soybeans and computers. "We are the Saudi Arabia of scrap," says Robert Garino, director of commodity research at the Washington-based Institute of Scrap Recycling Industries. China has become the biggest customer for America's junk, buying 23% of the $5.2 billion in scrap and waste exports.

The trade in scrap offers a look into the complex dynamics between the world's largest economy, the U.S., and its fastest-growing economy, China. Because Americans are buying so much more from China than they sell there, the trade deficit with China is exploding. Last year, it rose 24% to $103 billion, the largest in history. Yet, despite the huge gap, U.S. exports to China are growing too. Last year, they were up 15% to $22 billion, increasing for everything from semiconductors to machine tools to oranges, and even to scrap and waste.
[IMAGE]

Some of the scrap shipped to China stays there, to supply the nation's own booming economy. Other U.S. junk sold to the Chinese is destined for a round-trip; it will be made into products -- everything from toys to auto parts to polyester shirts -- by low-wage workers and then sold back to the U.S. This cycle provides inexpensive goods for American consumers but puts some U.S. jobs at risk.

Some see the scrap trade as an example of the global economy at its most efficient. The U.S., which consumes far more than any other nation, turns out a huge amount of waste; last year, one company, Pomona, Calif.-based America Chung Nam Inc., sold China U.S. scrap equal to the weight of 17 aircraft carriers. China, with a growing industrial base and a dearth of natural resources such as pulp or iron ore, needs the raw materials.

It also reflects China's rapid industrialization. In the 1950s, Communist Party founder Mao Zedong set unattainable goals for steel production, forcing peasants to melt down pots and pans in backyard furnaces. Millions starved during that failed effort to push China's agricultural society into the industrial age. Now that it is part of the world economy, China is melting down American pots and pans with remarkable efficiency. Within the next five years, China is expected to pass both France and the United Kingdom to become the fourth-largest economy in the world, behind the U.S., Japan and Germany.

At the same time China is building up its factories, the U.S. industrial base is struggling, in part because of stiff competition from abroad. Paper and steel companies, for example, are shutting down capacity in the U.S., as they try to stave off lower-priced foreign imports. In the last three years, U.S. employment in the steel and paper manufacturing sectors has declined by nearly 45,000 jobs, according to the Labor Department.

"Manufacturing is disappearing in America, which is a disaster," says John Neu, chairman of Hugo Neu Corp., a large New York scrap-metal recycling company. He sees both sides of the issue: while he worries about the loss of manufacturing jobs in the U.S., Mr. Neu says prices for his scrap have held up because of demand from Chinese buyers.

Overall, the domestic market for scrap is still far larger than exports. But exports are growing at a faster rate. Over the past two years, for instance, domestic use of scrap iron and steel has been about flat, while exports have risen 78% over the same period, according to the Institute of Scrap Recycling Industries. The increase in exports, however, hasn't eased some of the strains of municipal recycling; New York and other cities have recently cut back on curbside recycling because of the cost of running such programs.

The U.S. has plenty of junk to sell. It exported 2.3 million metric tons of scrap iron and steel to China last year, up from 246,000 tons in 1996, according to the institute. That's equivalent to the weight of about one million Ford Explorers. The U.S. shipped about 450,000 tons of scrapped plastic -- equal to about 14.5 billion empty plastic soda bottles -- to China last year, more than seven times the amount five years ago, according to Resource Recycling, an industry newsletter.

Last year, America Chung Nam, one of the largest scrap exporters, shipped more containers out of U.S. ports than did General Electric Co., Altria Group Inc. (formerly Philip Morris Cos.), and the DuPont Co. combined, according to PIERS Maritime Research Services.
[image]

The journey of Kevin Sayad's homework assignment began in his family's kitchen. His mother, Laila Sayad, says her son's school tests end up pinned on the refrigerator. Homework assignments, however, are placed in a bag in the kitchen pantry and then taken by Kevin Sayad's father, Karim, to the local dump's recycling site. That's what happened to the fractions homework, in which the boy worked out the ratios of birds to worms on a two-sided sheet of paper.

Shortly after it was discarded, the Sayad family's paper trash was picked up from the site by Zozzaro Brothers Inc., which pays a small, fluctuating fee for such refuse. Every day, in a cavernous building at the company's recycling center in Clifton, N.J., bucket-loader trucks shove up to 600 tons of discarded paper and cardboard into giant balers. The bales of paper are then loaded onto containers by forklifts. About 95% of this material is trucked to port terminals in Newark, where it begins its oversea journey.

While other sectors in the economy are stagnant, things have been upbeat at the Zozzaro Brothers' recycling facility. Prices for corrugated cardboard have soared to about $95 per ton from $55 early last year, thanks in large part to demand from China. Prices for recycled newspaper have increased from $55 per ton to about $90. To be sure, this is nothing like the recycled paper bull market of 1995, when cardboard prices briefly soared to more than $250 per ton. And the war has caused prices to soften a bit recently.

While Zozzaro Brothers gets $90 to $95 per ton for the scrap paper it exports, it gets only about $65 to $70 per ton for domestic sales. Foreign buyers are willing to pay a premium for paper they can get from sources near major ports. After China, the biggest foreign purchasers of all kinds of U.S. scrap are Canada, the U.K., Korea and Mexico.

The boy's homework was included in a 24-ton heap of paper purchased from Zozzaro Brothers by a middleman firm, called Yao Yang Enterprises LLC, of Los Alamitos, Calif. Yao Yang, in turn, sold the container of scrap paper to a paper mill owned by Hangzhou Jinjiang Paper Co., located in a Chinese city called Linan, about 100 miles northwest of the port of Ningbo. It's a small city by Chinese standards, with a population of about 500,000; tea plantations sit in the green mountains that circle it.

The paper company, based in the center of the city, is going through a rapid growth spurt. It now produces 51,000 tons of newsprint a year and 10,000 tons of other paper used in furniture production, all sold in China. "The demand from the domestic market has grown out of what we're able to supply," says Fang Xiaoming, director of the company's import/export department. The company plans to increase its total capacity nearly four-fold within the next two years. Up to 90% of the waste paper it uses comes from the U.S.

Within a few weeks, Kevin's homework will be fed into a Jinjiang Paper Co. machine. It will be cut up into fine pieces, bled of its ink, added to a slurry mixture that breaks it down to its original fibers and then dried. It will emerge as newsprint and be sold to a Chinese newspaper company. The fourth-grader says he had no idea that a simple piece of paper could take such a complicated journey. "That's pretty cool," says Kevin, whose favorite toy, a Nintendo Gameboy, is made in China.

Write to Jon E. Hilsenrath at jon.hilsenrath@wsj.com

Updated April 9, 2003

Copyright © 2003 Dow Jones & Company, Inc. All Rights Reserved.



To: Maurice Winn who wrote (6144)4/10/2003 6:06:26 PM
From: Maurice Winn  Respond to of 12231
 
*** Sar Wars *** Cumulative deaths.

26 Feb ?
..5 Mar x
12 Mar x
19 Mar x
26 Mar xx
..2 Apr xxxxx
..9 Apr xxxxxxxxxx [103 already, on 8 April]
10 Apr xxxxxxxxxxx [111]

Mq



To: Maurice Winn who wrote (6144)4/13/2003 7:17:18 AM
From: Maurice Winn  Read Replies (1) | Respond to of 12231
 
*** Sar Wars *** Cumulative deaths.
26 Feb ?
..5 Mar x
12 Mar x
19 Mar x
26 Mar xx
..2 Apr xxxxx
..9 Apr xxxxxxxxxx
13 Apr xxxxxxxxxxxx [126]