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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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