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 The
Third Place
by Norman Fulkerson The
informal gathering place provides a way for many Americans to survive their hectic
daily lives. Ladies have their tearooms, but many men have found a solution also.
Years ago, I had the chance to visit Italy. I loved my stay there and had an amusing
experience in the airport the day of my departure. While standing in line to check
my bags, an employee announced that our flight would be delayed. The next man
in line went ballistic and vented his anger on the lady who was checking us in.
"This is terrible," he said. "I'll miss my appointment." He
went into great detail about how all of this was really of earth shattering importance.
The Italian lady stood calmly and listened, with a sympathetic look and a pensive
gaze. She could just as easily have been watching a popular Italian opera as listening
to an American complaining about the tragedy of a delayed flight. He eventually
finished his operatic dramatization of the disaster of his altered travel plans.
She looked at him with her droopy eyes and serene face, and all she had to say
was, "Compared to life, its not that bad."
This was a memorable experience for me since it gave me a brief glimpse of two
opposing philosophies! On one side of the counter was the stereotypical "time
is money" philosophy, which cannot tolerate an unplanned moment, while on
the other side was a "joy of life" philosophy that welcomes the spontaneous
moments that enrich life. Such situations
are a chance to take a deserved break for some, but for our businessman it was
a source of anger and frustration. His world is one of travel planners and nifty
computer programs to schedule his every minute. His life is a succession of airports,
taxis, hotel rooms, business lunches or quick burgers at McDonalds, then quickly
off again to some other destination to close yet another deal.
Fortuitous circumstances that allow a moment of relaxation are considered vile
intruders in his world of production. An outsider witnessing such a scene might
think that America is simply one big machine, with man playing the part of cogs
in a massive industrial wheel. Those who think
this way have missed a growing trend. With
the cigar boom of the mid 90's, smoke-rooms for men sprouted up in almost every
major city in the country. And since my first trip to Italy I began to notice
how these rooms are a haven for men who long for more than time management.
Riding the crest of this new wave was Denver's elegant Brown Palace Hotel. They
simply took what was formerly a small bar servicing their Atrium Lounge, added
a wall in 1996, and transformed it into a cigar bar named after Winston Churchill.
In its first year of operation, "the Churchill Bar did $1 million worth of
business, a 500 percent increase over the previous year. There are between 3,000
and 4,000 people on the bar's mailing list, which continues to grow." What
is the attraction? The reason is simple: "Cigars force you to stop and do
something that is pleasurable for at least one part of your day," said one
regular of the bar.1 "The
Great Good Place" Americans avidly search for
such informal "third places" that will provide them with the elements
necessary for a relaxing conversation. Ray
Oldenburg in his book The Great Good Place says that "Great civilizations,
like great cities, share a common feature. Evolving within them and crucial to
their growth and refinement are distinctive informal public gathering places."
Most men need an occasional break from work and home. What is often missing is
that unique third place where they can get together with other men to enjoy a
simple yet satisfying pleasure of life: conversation.2
Women may have their Victorian tearoom escapes to enjoy a nice chat, but now many
American men have also found an escape. Providing us with yet another Only in
America paradox. In a nation that promoted the "time-is-money philosophy,"
you also find a good number of men who appreciate fine tobacco and the relaxation
their third place provides. Such third places
are common in Europe. It is difficult to imagine an Irishman without a pub close
by to enjoy a pint of Guinness and discuss politics. French cafes supply the necessary
ambiance for speaking openly about philosophical currents of the day, and the
beer halls of Germany are the breeding ground for new ideas.
Similar places also exist in America, however, and their role in society is becoming
more important. And Mr. Oldenburg's blueprint of the third place provides necessary
elements to see that such locations provide the same benefits for Americans that
Europeans enjoy in their pubs, coffee houses, and beer halls.
Almost every town in America has its local diner, which is not just a place to
get an inexpensive breakfast and hot cup of coffee - good portions of conviviality
are served up as well. The corner barbershop is a frequent stop for retired men
who want someone to talk to, and the public squares of many cities provide more
than a park bench in the shade to rest on a hot day.
The common denominator among all of these places is the note of surprise. Who
will show up today? Those that do are always welcome since frequenters of the
third place are people with loads of personality and lots to say. So the ordinary
stop at the barber, the diner, or the park bench becomes an experience that enriches
life like few things can. The regular, the
newcomer and the bore According to Oldenburg there are many
distinct characteristics that make up a third place. The third place is comfortable,
a home away from home. It is a place that has its regulars, but also the occasional
newcomer who adds a fresh element to the ambience. "What attracts the regular
visitor to the third place," says Oldenburg, "are the fellow customers."
Informal meeting places are "upbeat because those who enjoy them ration the
time they spend there." Besides the "regulars" and the "newcomers,"
he also describes another type: the bore. He is the one who has "long since
lost that edge that makes people interesting, an edge that is honed by confrontation
with life outside." While the regular and the newcomer leave "before
the magic fades," the bore has a tendency to hang on forever, milking the
moment for all its worth. The reason informal meeting places
are upbeat is simple: It is a place where the pretensions of work and the responsibilities
of home can be put aside. It provides us with the situation and surroundings in
which we can be ourselves and explore our ideas and dreams in a neutral environment
with non-threatening participants. Smoke-rooms are perhaps
the best examples of the "third place" for men that I found. Born over
300 years ago in London, the gentleman's club or smoke-room was an essential element
in the social life of men, described by one astute observer as "mausoleums
of masculine inactivity."3
"Where the problems of the world are solved" It
was an overcast day as I walked down the cobblestone walkway of what I later learned
is the gentleman's quarter or arcade. It is the oldest part of Nashville, a place
where men of the past gathered to do business. This area of town is home to the
Arcade Smoke-room, where men of the present remember the past. The closely laid
cobblestones seem analogous to the close friendships that are formed, strengthened,
and solidified in the Arcade. Housed in the oldest building in town, it is a popular
gathering place for Nashville men. My visit
to the Arcade proved to be an experience. Tennesseans by nature are a very hospitable
people, and as I entered the shop I immediately felt at home due to the kind treatment
of the owner, Wilson Frazier. " Do you
get a lot of customers here," I asked. "Yes, sir," he said, pointing
to a couch pushed up against the wall, "the problems of the world are solved
right there." With such a small sitting area, I figured there couldn't be
more than a handful at any given time. When I returned during lunchtime to see
who it was that solved the world's problems, I found a constant flow of men coming
and going. The Arcade Smoke-room was the classic
example of a third place as defined by Oldenburg, "where individuals may
come and go as they please and in which none are required to play host and in
which all feel at home and comfortable."
Patrick Owen is a regular of the Arcade and the owner of his own smoke-room up
the street. He works for the Department of Human Services in downtown Nashville
and does Civil War reenacting as a hobby. "Why
do men come to these smoke-rooms?" I asked him. "Men
need the company of other men," he said, "time to recapture camaraderie.
Smoke-rooms give them the opportunity to discuss traditional things." Men
need a place to relax with other men and pound out those perplexing questions
that have been ruminating in their head during the day. The segregation of sexes
"accounts for the origins of the third place," says Oldenburg, "and
remains the basis for much of the appeal and benefits this institution has to
offer." Men sometimes need to be with other men, as ladies often need to
be with other ladies. Patrick is an archetypal
example of a civil war re-enactor. When he first greets you there is the characteristic
bow of the head, and the gentlemanly usage of the title sir. He doesn't just barge
into a conversation but is the champion of a smooth entrance and gentle transition.
His mannerisms were thus more civilized, like someone of the nineteenth century.
He was polite, chivalrous, a joy to be around. "The smoke-rooms of today
are like the campfires during the time of the Civil War, where men would gather
to converse," he said. "We have
always needed this type of thing," he continued. "The Greeks had their
agora - an ancient marketplace of Greece; the Romans had the Forum - the public
square where laws were read; early Americans had taverns and coffee houses."
Suddenly I found myself engaged in an elevated conversation surrounded by a pensive
group of men; some puffing on cigars, others drawing from elegantly shaped pipes.
Waiting my turn to speak I was amused by the sign hanging on the wall overhead.
"A pipe gives a wise man time to think, and a fool something to put in his
mouth." "Do angels have free will?"
This experience in conversational cuisine is by no means
restricted to Nashville's Arcade. While visiting Rae's Tobacco Shop in Harrisburg,
Pennsylvania, one day I unexpectedly found myself drawn into a theological debate
with one of the regulars, David Ravegum, on the existence of angels and whether
or not they have free wills. With the help of a friend I was able to explain that
they do. Upon leaving David looked at me and said, "You have piqued my interest.
I am going to go home and read up on the angels." The next time I visited
Rae's, David recognized me and affirmed, "You are right, angels do have free
will." The men who frequent the Tobacco
Chandler in Hanover, Pennsylvania, enjoy conversations more along the sociological
line. "What is happening with the youth of today? Why don't they have respect
for elders?" One such conversation was so interesting that Mike Evans, the
owner, suggested that we invite some of the area youth to participate. Instead
of just playing billiards on Mike's table, he felt they could also benefit from
the simple pleasure of an elevated conversation.
The Humidour in Timonium, Maryland, provides a dignified ambience for its customers,
with leather armchairs, rich wood paneling, a splendid air freshener, and large
crystal ashtrays. Don Curtis of the National Investors Company is one of the regulars.
Don is a master conversationalist with whom it is easy to talk and who has a lot
to say. His concerns are more of a political nature and when I first met him he
wasted no time in venting his anger over the myriad scandals surrounding the Clinton
administration, especially the moral ones. "If we are not careful,"
he said, "We could end up like the Roman Empire, rotting from within. If
that happens we won't need an outside invader, we will simply give up."
Back in Nashville... Before leaving the Arcade, Wilson
Frazier was kind enough to show me the upstairs of the shop. As we reached the
top of the stairs, a dimly lit sitting area caught my eye. Two comfortable armchairs
faced each other with a table between them. Arranged on the table was a chessboard
ready for play. Outside the window was a birds-eye view of the cobblestone arcade
below. The back room had a conference table where some men go to escape the agitation
of the workplace. "It gives them the opportunity," Mr. Frazier said,
"to get away from their offices, secretaries, and noisy phones."
The smoke-rooms of America are a strong indicator that some men are becoming increasingly
dissatisfied with the rat race and desire a solution to the rush of every day
life. The cigar boom provided the excuse, the smoke-room the place - a third place
"where the problems of the world are solved."
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