The Record Of the Mini-Boards Is Spotty

A familiar question, whether the decentralization of New York City's public schools has been worth the trouble and expense, is being asked once again by public officials. Some of the answers they are getting have not been encouraging, though no major reforms are likely for now.

The latest cause for discontent was the almost embarrassingly low turnout for the recent elections to the 32 local school boards that for the last eight years have run the city's 700 elementary, intermediate, and junior high schools. (The Central Board of Education can override local decisions and it still runs the senior high schools.) There were 3 million eligible voters; only 200,000, or 7 percent, did vote, and the percentage has been declining steadily since the first elections in 1970.

The implications were clear. An important purpose of dispersing authority in the schools among local districts was to involve parents more intimately in the education of their children: Based on numbers alone, it has not worked, and the lesson is not lost on other cities, including New Haven, Conn, and Newark, N.J., which regard New York as a laboratory for possible reforms of their own.

The poor turnout might have been more palatable if there was evidence that decentralization nonetheless has improved the quality of education. The evidence isn't there, except in several districts in the Bronx and Queens where academic achievement was high when the schools were run by the central board. Overall, reading and mathematics scores have gone down since 1970, though they showed slight improvements this year.

But to dismiss the system as an apparent failure might be a mistake. Decentralization has accomplished some of its basic goals. For one thing, it has eliminated much of the red tape that made innovations, or even the delivery of equipment, difficult. “In the old days, if I wanted to order an audiometer from the Board of Education, it might have taken years to get the thing," says Dr. Harvey Bien, who coordinates the health services curriculum for District 10 in the Bronx.

"Now that I only have to go to the district, I can get it in a few weeks." Decentralization also, in some cases, has given parents more of a say in school operations, election turnouts notwithstanding. The sense, if not always the fact, of involvement has been especially important in black and Hispanic communities, where frustration with the schools has been acute.

Racial considerations were important in bringing about decentralization in a system where two-thirds of the pupils are minority-group members and most of the teachers and administrators are white, In 1968, a year before decentralization went into effect, racial antagonism burst forth when teachers went on strike after parents in a predominantly experimental school district in Brooklyn tried to replace white teachers with blacks. (The local boards do not have that sort of power now).

Much of the tension has since sub-sided, and voter turnouts for school board elections have increased in many black and Hispanic districts despite the citywide decline. As often as not, school board meetings draw large, boisterous crowds of parents ready to make recommendations.

One difficulty, defenders of decentralization feel, is that the system's potential has not had a chance to develop. In the first few years, many local boards were too busy battling the central Board of Education over citywide policy to spend much time on educational innovations. Misuse, and even theft, of funds, distracted other districts. Some were bogged down by internal disorders, such as District 1 in lower Manhattan, where board members, supported variously by Puerto Rican parents and the teachers' union, fought over the dismissal of the district superintendent, Luis Fuentes.

For the last two years, the city's money troubles have caused new strains; 22,000 teachers and other school workers have been dismissed, and many academic and extracurricular programs have been dropped. Instead of having the opportunity to decide what improvements to make, the local boards, with budgets ranging from $15 million to $25 million each, were left with the prerogative of deciding where to cut. Supporters of the system believe that if racial animosity and money problems ease, the boards will be better able to prove their worth.

One advantage of decentralization for city officials is easy to assess: the political impact, particularly during a period of fiscal austerity. Parents who once might have taken their grievances straight to City Hall or the Board of Education are more likely to go to their local. board members and superintendents.

"Obviously, we've taken a lot of heat off City Hall," says Philip Kaplan, president of the New York School Boards Association and chairman of District 18 in Brooklyn. Without the school boards in the middle helping parents let off steam during the budget cuts there would have been war in the streets."

If only for that reason, the local boards will probably continue, no matter how the central board may be restructured. Mayor Beame wants to replace the board with a commissioner appointed by the Mayor. But neither he nor anyone else is talking about taking away policy-making powers from the local districts.

Tangled Up In Velvet

From The New York Times, August 14, 1994

One of the newer, more playful entrants in New York's nocturnal range wars can be found in the farthest industrial reaches of Chelsea. First-time visitors to Velvet, a former brewery at 608 West 26th Street, near the corner of 11th Avenue, may have to look carefully for the club's dimly lighted entrance. Once past the hulking door-men, however, they find themselves ensconced in a surprisingly benign world.

Since opening in April, the club, owned by Joe Schaefer, has changed themes weekly. One recent Saturday (Velvet is open Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights), the motif was Carnival. This concept was realized with contraptions like a dunk-the-party-promoter machine and a 25-by-25-foot pool filled with styrofoam packing material. Future themes are to include the wide world of sports, casinos, and the wild, wild West.

"I try to create an environment in which people can let go safely," said Natalie Jones, Velvet's director, as she surveyed her festive domain. The downtown perennial known as Danny the Wonder Pony trotted by, a saddle around his waist and a woman astride his shoulders, cheering him on.

The main action took place, as always, on the capacious dance floor, where a diverse crowd of some 500 straight and gay party-goers, from their early 20s to early 30'5, gyrated to house music. Others relaxed amid the faded glory of the lounges, one on each floor. the club's interior, which Ms. Jones described as "Salvation Armani," is the inspiration of Christiana Rangel, a Brazilian interior decorator, singer, and dancer, who is also, Velvet's bar manager.

“What I like about this place is that it has no pre-tension," said Allison Joseph, a recent Vassar College graduate and a model. "It's a good place to drop your attitude," she added, as her boyfriend, Brady Brook, an artist from Colorado, boogied nearby. Whereupon the couple dove headlong into the pool.

Cabs are readily available on 11th Avenue for the return trip to planet Earth.

The Buying of America. A Tale of Three Cities.

From Moment Magazine

I. Houston: "The Arab World’s Favorite City"

Years ago, when oil was discovered in the Middle East, it was America's Houston-based oil and petrochemical industry that succeeded in tapping it and making its hidebound, medieval owners rich, so it seems only fair that the Arab OPEC nations have chosen to return that favor by making the sprawling Texas metropolis the nerve center of their multi-billion dollar internal development programs.

The scope of Houston's Arab connection is simply enormous: experts estimate that of the roughly $7 billion in goods and services transacted this year between the oil-exporting countries and the U.S., at least half of that is being handled by Houston-based companies or ones with Houston branches. Over $2 billion in exports to the Mideast passed through the port of Houston alone in 1977, in addition to $500 million in imports from the Arab world.

The U.S. Department of Commerce estimates that every $1 billion in exports translates into 90,000 American jobs -which means that roughly 270,000 Houston residents, about a third of the city's workforce, owe their paychecks, either directly or indirectly, to Arab largesse. Clearly, no other American city is as dependent on the sheiks for its economic well-being.

Architectural and construction firms have been the most recent to benefit from the city's Arab connection. Whenever a Saudi or Kuwaiti or Bahraini planning minister decides he needs a new sewer or perhaps a new city-his first inclination, it seems, is to call Houston.

Among the Houston concerns either overseeing or actively participating in the current Mideast building boom are: the San Fran-cisco-based Bechtel Corporation, the nation's largest construction, and engineering company, whose Houston office is designing Saudi Arabia's $370 million Ghazlan power plant; Hudson Engineering, which is supplying engineering and design equipment for a $394 million natural gas liquefaction plant in Dubai: Pullman & Kellogg, which recently was engaged to build liquefied natural gas plants in Kuwait and Algeria and which currently has about $1 billion in Mideast contracts; Brown and Root, which is developing pipeline and port facilities along the Arabian gulf; realtor Gerald Hines, who is erecting a $200 million "Cairo Galleria" in the Egyptian capital; James M. Sink Associates, which is charged with designing a $200 million teachers' college in Riyadh; 3D/International, which is at work on 17 Mideast design projects worth $3 billion, including a new city for "visiting dignitaries" in Saudi Arabia and 5 hotels in the United Arab Emirates; and Caudill, Rowell, Scott, Inc., which has contracts to design no less than $6 billion in Middle East projects.

CRS, which was recently awarded a $55 million contract to design the desert campus of the University of Riyadh, is a good example of the new wave of Houston-Arab success stories. In 1972, just before the last major OPEC price hike and the building and construction boom it financed,

CRS had only 250 employees; only two percent of its business was contracted abroad. Now, thanks to the University of Riyadh contract and others like it, the company's staff has mushroomed to 700, and CRS had overtaken Skidmore, Owings, and Merrill of Chicago as the country's top-grossing architectural firm. In 1977 CRS’ gross fees totaled $34 million; Mideast projects accounted for half that.

Significantly, CRS Design Associates may soon no longer be in entirely American hands. According to a July dispatch in the New York Times, two of the company's largest shareholders are on the verge of selling a 20 percent inter. est in CRS to Ghaith Pharaon. the same high-flying Saudi millionaire who recently caused a stir when he bailed out President Carter's friend Bert Lance by buying the former federal budget director's stock in the anemic National Bank of Georgia. (More about the Lance affair later.)

To be sure, direct Arab investment in Houston, like direct Arab investment elsewhere in the Sunbelt, is extremely difficult to pin down, both because of the vagueness of federal reporting laws, and the vagueness of the Arabs Texas money managers. However, a few transactions have been made public. In 1975, for example, Kuwaiti merchant Kutayba Alghanim bought Houston's Kirby Building Systems, Inc. for $100 million.

More recently, Saudi wheeler-dealer Adan Kashoggi-who is currently under investigation by the Securities and Exchange Commission for allegedly taking and giving bribes dished out $5.7 million for 22 acres of the city's best commercial real estate.

Rumors of other sub rosa purchases abound. Many wonder, for example, how much of the $93 million which realtor Gerald Hines received from a West German bank for the spanking new Penn-zoil Place office complex was actually put up by Arabs. Hines isn't saying and the Arabs certainly aren't.

Indeed, aside from visiting Arab dignitaries, who are appropriately wined and dined, and a handful of transplanted Arab investment counselors, the visible Arab presence in Houston is virtually nil.

Most business is either contracted by Houston executives visiting the Mideast, or via telephone; the few Arabs who do maintain residences in town, Newsweek reports, "cut so low a profile as to verge on secrecy." In London, which has lately become OPEC's favorite playground, the average Arab visi-for disports himself in robes and white limousines. But in Houston, he inclines toward business suits and black Cadillacs and sometimes an ill-fitting Stetson.

Perhaps Houston's most voluble Arab is Dr. Atef Gamal-Eldin, director of the city's Arab-American Chamber of Commerce, the 350-member organization which certifies shipments of cargo bound for the Mideast. Gamal-Eldin explains why his Arab friends seem to have such a soft spot for Texans: "When an Arab thinks of an American, he sees a tall, open-faced, loud-laughing, hard-drinking man who is open and generous, and warm and as tough as he looks," he recently told Newsweek's bureau chief, Nicholas Profitt. "He sees a Texan.” Adds Profitt: "Houston itself impresses the Middle Easterners, who see the city and its array of gleaming new buildings as the wave of the future rather than the decaying face of such Eastern cities as New York."

One of those who is helping to open the doors to those buildings is Houston's most prominent citizen, former U.S. Treasury Secretary John B. Connally. As a partner in Vinson and Elkins, one of the city's top law firms, and a co-owner of the Main Bank of Texas, one of the city's two central banks, both of which handle a lion's share of the Arab community's legal and banking business, respectively, Connally has emerged as a key figure in the burgeoning petro-industrial complex, along with such other celebrated Arab-Americans as Bert Lance and former U.S. Senator J. William Fulbright.

Potential Arab investors, explains Mark Winchester, executive vice president of Houston's Center for International Business, "want to work with a person who has demonstrated an ability to get things done. Connally fills the bill in a number of ways. He knows his way around the country. He knows Texas, which is a favorite investment market. He has connections in banking circles since he was Treasury Secretary, and he knows what types of government regulations an investor would have to deal with. And if Connally doesn't know, he knows whom to call to find out."

In the meantime, Houston's lifeline to the Middle East grows stronger and more elaborate. Texas Commerce Bank, the city's other leading financial institution and one of the five American banks belonging to United Bank-Arab American Bank, the massive trade-facilitating consortium, recently opened a branch in Bahrain, there to better serve its dozens of Arab clients.

The city's principal academic institution, the 4-campus University of Houston, is also getting a few crumbs, such as a $100,000 contract to train Saudi refinery guards for ARAMCO and another to provide home instruction for a closeted Saudi princess.

Inevitably, too, this lifeline has political and journalistic ramifications. Houston's Congressional contingent was at the forefront of last year's fight against the Carter Administration's proposed anti-boycott legislation and for last spring's Saudi F-15 deal certainly no accident, that. Also, some observers claim to see Arab money behind the increasingly anti-Israeli editorials of The Houston Chronicle and some of the oil capital's other media.

Probably the closest the Arabs have to a media mouthpiece is Erik Borgen, editor of the widely read Business & Energy International magazine. In a recent editorial, he wrote upon his return from a trip to the Mideast, Borgen, for example, personally urged President Carter to force Israel to "abandon policies of colonialism" and "come to terms with reality" by accepting a Palestinian state on the West Bank.

It is because of such obliging souls that, as one Saudi businessman declared, "What New York is financially and spiritually to Israel, so is Houston to the Arab world.”

II. Atlanta: "The Arabs Are Coming!"

Once upon a time, Michael Kilian wrote in The Chicago Tribune, Atlantans were so xenophobic that visitors from South Carolina were «shunned as wicked foreigners."

But lately, a change has come over the residents, particularly the business community of Georgia's fair city. Now, Kilian sarcastically notes, "Any stranger with an ingle in his jeans is welcome even strangers with glittering eyes and pointed beards and good old American names like Ghaith Pharaon."

Kilian was one of the many journalists who had flocked to Atlanta to witness the miraculous transfer of 60 percent of Bert Lance's stock in the National Bank of Georgia-120,000 shares, to be exact, for $20 a share to the canny, Harvard-trained Saudi.

"It troubled no one that Pha-raon's deal to pick up most of Bert Lance's bank stock would give the Arab a major interest in one of Georgia's largest financial institutions and the lifelong obligation of the President's best friend."

At the news conference announcing this amazing deal, the young, mustachioed Pharaon, standing beside a sheepishly grinning Bert Lance, proclaimed that his sole motive in buying into NBG was profit. "We have good reasons to believe that in the future our investment will grow. This is a good bank, a sound bank."

Nor was he seeking to buy influence with the Carter Administration, Pharaon gesticulated.

Nevertheless, one Wall Street bank executive told The Washington Post's Jim Hoagland, "You have to ask yourself why a Saudi millionaire with lots of options in today's market settles on a bank that stopped paying dividends last year and is under such strong federal scrutiny. I have asked a dozen colleagues who follow the area closely as I do, and the answer keeps coming back to the Georgia factor."

Indeed, it seems highly probable that in Lance, Pharaon was seeking another wasta, or go-between.

"The Arabs are coming," columnist Hal Gulliver cried in The Atlanta Constitution several days before.

To be sure, Pharaon was not the first Arab businessman to arrive in Atlanta: in the early 1970s a group of Kuwaitis bought into Atlanta's $ 100 million Hilton Hotel complex.

Nevertheless, it was not until Pharaon's highly publicized arrival coupled with the purchase, several davs later, by Saudi Arabia's Prince Faisal, of one of Atlanta's most prestigious houses that rumors began to fly about a purported Arab "invasion" of the state.

Since then a number of related developments have further fueled speculation. In March, Corporate Finance Associates, a 22-year-old Atlanta business consulting firm with offices in 35 U.S. cities and three locations abroad, disclosed that it had signed a one-year contract to invest $500 million on behalf of two members of the royal family of Saudi Arabia. According to Michael Rothberg, executive vice president of the consulting firm, as much as $70 million of the investment fund could end up in the Atlanta area "if we can find the right situations."

Georgia, Rothberg told The Atlanta Constitution, is "of particular interest" to the Beirut-based trustee for the Arab fund. "I think we were selected primarily because we are located in Atlanta "

Then in June, Ghaith Pharaon succeeded in his bid to buy a controlling interest in NBG by purchasing 615,000 more shares or about 60 percent of those outstanding in the Atlanta bank. "Georgia- and particularly Atlanta -is attractive to Arabs for many of the same reasons why they find much of the rest of the Sunbelt appealing," says Bill Grelnick, the American Jewish Committee's representative in the city. "They like the climate. Unions aren't too strong. There aren't too many Jews certainly not as many as in New York. And, of course, you can't discount the Carter Administration's ties with the city."

Nevertheless, both Grelnick and other Jewish watchdogs based in Atlanta find it difficult to come to any hard and fast conclusions about the true consequences of the city's developing Arab connection -at least just yet.

"The biggest problem we see in the South, and particularly Atlanta, is that some American business-men, in order to attract potential petrodollars, have been leaning over backward to be 'nice' to the Arabs, including making statements which are anti-Israel,” says Stuart Lewengrub, of the Anti-Defamation League's Atlanta office.

"However, it's hard to put your finger on it. Is the tie between the two parties emotional, psychological, or financial or all three?" As for the smooth-talking Pharaon, he assures the troubled Jew. ish community that he "welcomes" its business "because it is only by closer understanding and communication that we can solve much of our differences and problems.”

"We are restricted now from doing business with Israel by the Palestinian and boycott problems,"

Pharaon says. "But once these are lifted, I don't see any reason why I Shouldn't be dealing with Israel." One may choose to believe Pharaon's statement or choose to be skeptical of it. In making that choice, one might want to bear in mind the credibility of Pharaon's assertion that his association with Lance's bank was motivated strictly by profit.

III. Los Angeles: “I Bought It All . .. with My Money!" 

Of course, no discussion of the Arab presence and particularly the Saudi presence in the United States would be complete without mentioning California. Although Texas currently seems to be the Arab world's favorite state_ and other Sunbelt states like Georgia and Louisiana are gaining in allure Middle Eastern ties with California, particularly Southern California, which are the oldest and probably the most deeply entrenched.

Indeed. the first real contact that the Saudis had with Americans was via the California subsidiary of Standard Oil, California Standard, which won the first oil concession from King Abd al-Aziz and drilled the first successful well in 1938.

Eventually, California Standard became the titanic Arabian American Oil Company, better known as ARAMCO.

"Those contacts in the oil business." Anthony Cook wrote in a recent article about the California-Saudi connection in New West magazine, "mushroomed into what is today a kind of Saudi-Califor-nian old boy' network. The young Saudis came here and studied with Arabists such as Berkeley's professor George Lenczowski, who knew the people at Standard Oil, and USC's professor Willard Beling, a former employee-relations specialist with ARAMCO. The professor knew the other Arabists in the state, who included two former ambassadors to Saudi Arabia: Nicholas Thatcher of Wells Fargo Bank and Park Hart of Bechtel Corporation. Thatcher and Hart in turn knew the powerful Saudis who had gone to school in California: the men who were back home and in charge of trade, industrialization, planning, and military construction."

And so it went. Although the Saudis no longer think of California as being the center of Western civilization not with the coruscating Houston and Atlanta skylines to divert their attention-West Coast firms still do a lion's share of business with the oil-rich Saudis. Among those benefiting from the sheikhdom's $142 billion internal development program are: San Francisco's Bechtel Corporation, which is supervising the construction of a $9 billion seaboard industry complex at Jubail and the new Riyadh international airport; Fluor Corporation of Irvine, which is building a mammoth $5 billion natural gas gathering system; Envirogenics System Company of El Monte, which has designed a $700 million desalinization plant, Whitaker of Los Angeles, which is managing hospitals and training athletes for Olympic competition; Vinnell Corporation of Alhambra, which is training the Saudi National Guard; Northrop Corporation of Los Angeles, which is building all manner of planes and defense installations; Litton Industries of Beverly Hills which is negotiating to build the country's data communications system; World Airways of Oak-land, which runs charter flights for the thousands of Californians on their way to jobs in Mecca and other Saudi boom towns.

Again, this is only a partial list.

The warmth and strength of the Saudi-Californian connection was evident at a series of recent, well-attended Arab-American functions in Los Angeles. The biggest pow-wow, a two-day conference in April at the Conrad Hilton organized by various U.S.-Arab Chambers of Commerce, brought together 100 leading Arab businessmen and their happy, back-slapping, Bear State counterparts for what was innocuously billed as an opportunity "for an exchange of views on mutual business interest." Nevertheless, the meeting was scheduled to be closed to the press, leading some observers, particularly the American Jewish Committee, to suspect that the conferees wanted privacy to discuss, among other things, ways of circumventing recently enacted U.S. anti-boycott legislation. Pressure from the AJC forced the organizers to let the media in, however, and everything seemed to be aboveboard.

Not all the visitors were businessmen, however. One of the highlights of the recent Arab-American spring rites was a sumptuous luncheon, hosted by a Northrop Corporation executive, and attended by Mayor Tom Bradley and other distinguished guests, in honor of Prince Bindar Bin Sultan (you know him), commander of the Saudi air force, who was in town to garner support for the pending U.S.-Saudi F-15 jet sale -which, as readers will doubtless recall, the Carter Administration, in its infinite wisdom, had tied, in an all-nothing deal, to a major jet sale to Israel.

One of the more obliging listeners at the luncheon was J. R. Fluor, chairman and chief executive off-cer of the Fluor Corporation, who promptly wrote a peppy memorandum in which he urged all 40,000 Fluor employees, shareholders, and vendors to do their part for their munificent, albeit indirect, employers, and help put the controversial deal over.

After evaluating the situation," Fluor wrote, "we believe that the arms package is a reasonable compromise. We are writing to Senators and Congressmen in Washington to express our thoughts and urge you to do so if you agree with our conclusion.

An example of Fluor's impeccable logic: "The easy and emotional answer would be to say 'no* to the sale, pretending that would spur the Arabs and Israelis toward peace. In effect that would be like an auto manufacturer refusing to sell cars in an effort to stop air pollution."

The chairman added, "Fears that the Saudi Arabian planes may become part of an offensive against Israel should be somewhat assuaged by the need for American technicians to keep them operating," and anyway, he noted, the sale would help the U.S. balance of payments, as well as keep the Saudis' oily sword of Damocles from severing American necks for a while.

Well, as everyone knows, the arms deal did pass, and, coincidentally or not. several days after the dramatic vote, the Saudis awarded a Fluor subsidiary an $18 million contract to provide engineering design and procurement services for a computerized accounting system that is to be installed in Dharan.

How's that for positive reinforcement?

Meanwhile, a number of newly arrived Saudi private citizens and other OPEC nouveau riche are buying into California itself. For whatever reasons- perhaps the area's ethos of conspicuous consumption or its highly developed sense of moral laxness-_Arab interests seem to be considerably less inhibited about dabbling in real estate in and around Los Angeles than anywhere else in the Sunbelt.

Thus the Los Angeles Times reported in May that Arab investors had bought two movie theaters on the West Side of L.A., as well as six office buildings on Wilshire Boulevard.

Several weeks before, the New York Times noted that Arabs and Iranians had spent $150 million on homes in the Beverly Hills area over the previous 18 months.

One of those homes, a $2.4 million affair on the corner of Sunset Boulevard and Alpine Street was recently purchased and flamboyantly refurnished by a 21-year-old Saudi-Sheikh Mohammad Al-Fassi-has turned out to be a real traffic stopper. Renamed "Dirty Disneyland" by scandalized neighbors, the Al-Fassi residence features such eye-popping renovations as a new coat of hospital green paint, a $1 million copper roof (copper?), a run for 12 German shepherds (local law permits only 3 canines per residence), 12 brass American eagles, and $10,000 worth of gruesome plastic flowers.

But what really freaked everyone out (so to speak) were the custom-made nude male and female sculptures scattered around the grounds and easily visible to passing motorists-which Al-Fassi had painted in such a way as to emphasize the private parts, e.g., blue torso, and orange genitalia.

Obviously, no one had schooled the young man in what has become the first rule for wealthy Arabs moving to America, particularly to communities with large Jewish populations like Beverly Hills: lie low.

To help smooth things over, the sheikh's father, Dr. Sheikh Sham-suddin Aldin Al-Fassi did what any self-respecting Angelino would do in a similar situation: he threw a party, to the tune of $65,000. It was a smash: attendance topped one thousand, and all the invited guests and assorted gate crashers seem to have had a marvelous time. Even the Jewish-dominated Beverly Hills City Council appeared to be mollihied by Al-Fassi's "old-worldly charm" (which included a promise to take down the offending statues).

The Los Angeles Times called it the party of the year.

Later, after the party, Al-Fassi's mood darkened. Apparently inebriated, and obviously further intoxicated by a new sense of power, the sheikh fired his American business advisor, shouting, prophetically, "I don't need you. I don't need anybody. For $50,000 [the original estimate of the party] I have bought the Beverly Hills Jews I bought the press. I bought the columnists. I bought it all with my money!"

Model City. Is Tallin the Next Milan?

From Clematis Magazine

“I’m in the export business," says Raul Andres-son, co-president of Beatrice Mass Model Management, a model agency he runs with his wife Beatrice herself a model and well-known celebrity in Estoniaóout of a sprawling, light-filled flat in downtown Tallinn.

Andresson proudly handed a reporter the agency's newly-minted, lavishly-produced 2000 calendar, flowing over with seductive portraits of this year's line of long-stemmed, fine-boned, amply-proportioned beauties: Kadri the blonde, Victoria the brunette, Martina. "I export beauty," he said matter-of-factly, interrupting the reporter's admiring muse.

Indeed. At last count, there were at least four full-fledged model agencies based in the Estonian capital, a prodigious number for a city of half a million and the phones are jangling in each of them. "Everyone is crazy about Estonian models," said Margit Jigger, co-founder of Estonian Modeling Agency, as she reached for her cell phone for the third time in a minute. Everyone, it seems, is looking for the new Carmen Kass, the Estonian model who was discovered in a Tallinn supermarket in 1992, when she was 14, and has since risen to become one of the world's top supermodels. Kass' Amazonian features graced this February's U.S. edition of Vogue magazine, which pronounced her, along with Gisele Bundchen, one of the world's two top supermodels.

Not many people outside fashion may actually be aware that Kass is from Estonia, and many may still have some trouble placing it on a world map. No matter. Kass' success, along with the increasing worldwide demand for Estonian models, is but the latest proof even though it is but skin deep of the country's acceptance by the Western world. For model agency heads, the boom times have come hard.

"All the things we have worked for years are finally paying off, said Marge Tilk, head of ModelNet, a local agency she founded several years ago as her own modeling career was beginning to taper off.

Tilk was one of the few Estonian girls who worked for the Soviet-era model agency Red Star a period she would rather not talk about.

Today the 28-year-old redhead still occasionally works as a model herself, although she is generally too busy running ModelNet.

The girls are out there on the runways,

"says Tilk with enthusiasm. "They're doing Milan. They're doing London. And people love them."

"Of course, we always knew that the most beautiful women came from Estonia," says Margit Jigger, at her cavernous, old town office, which is covered with magazine covers featuring her models. "Now everyone knows.”

Jigger and her partner Katrin Rannali met with lots of blank Estonian stares when they left their Tallinn advertising jobs to start EMA back in 1992, a year after the country regained independence from Moscow. With the Estonian economy in free fall, the notion of actually paying someone to pose for an advertisement struck many Tallinn businessmen as absurd. Nevertheless, Jigger and Rannali persisted in their quest to bring the beauty business to Estonia. When they weren't expostulating with quizzical Estonian neo-capitalists, the two were roaming the cobblestone streets near their offices looking for recruits for their new-fangled line, asking a girl here and a girl there to pose for modeling tests.

Somewhat surprisingly in a country known for shyness, almost all of the girls they asked said yes. After half a century of dwelling in the gray Soviet void, Estonian women, who had been known during the inter-war years for their exquisite fashion sense, were fast discovering the world of beauty. The notion of becoming a fashion model in 1992 was very in. It still is. By 1996, Jigger and Rannali had put together a cadre of eager-to-please, assiduous Estonian models, and their girls quickly went international. The export business had begun. One of EMA's first major discoveries was Iris Teiter. Waiting for friends in Tallinn, Teiter was politely accosted by an out-of-breath Jigger, who persuaded her to enter one of the increasingly popular model contests then being held in town. The contest was scheduled to begin in 30 minutes. The doe-eyed beauty won.

Within two years, Teiter was living in a flat off Champs Elysee and modeling for the likes of Chanel and L’Oreal, along with her then-roommate, Marge Tilk Meanwhile, another enterprising prospector, a former photographer's assistant by the name of Paolo Moglia had hit upon an even more momentous discovery-the statuesque form of Carmen Kass. Faking her mother's signature on the model's release form, Kass flew straight to Milan and immediately began modeling. It wasn't until two years ago by which time the fashion-magazine world had outgrown its affinity for the evanescent, decadent "waif' look that Kass' and Moglia's years of hard work finally paid off and she attained cover girl status. Today, in addition to being one of the world's top models, Kass is a partner with Moglia in Baltic Models, a Tallinn model agency. Located on the second floor of a small building off M, Riva-he, in Tallinn's old city, the agency is a virtual Carmen shrine, adorned with Carmen magazine covers and posters.

Moglia himself already thinks he has discovered the next Carmen: a 12-year-old by the name of Tatiana whom he whisked off to Milan this year though this time with her parents' permission. The other agencies have their own Bright Hopes.

At Beatrice Mass Model Management, it's a stunning brunette by the name of Katrin. At EMA, it's a svelte 18-year-old by the name of Helis.

At ModelNet, the girl of the moment is a small-town girl by the name of Anu whom agency head Marge Tilk discovered at a relative's wedding. "I'm a hunter," says Beatrice, as her dachshund-cum-mascot Elizabeth barks approvingly. "We all are.

Given the ongoing demand for Estonian models, it looks like the hunted and the Estonian model craze is set to continue.

Talisman: A Resort Whose Luck Ran Out

From Fire Island News, June 2 - June 8, 1988

It was, according to one writer, “the kind of place where girls like Holly Golightly and Lorelei Lee might rest, away from the hunting grounds of the Riviera and the playing fields of Cartier's.”

It was the kind of place where the flags of 20 nations flew at dockside, ready to welcome its international clientele and the original brochure announced that "Club privileges will be granted to the Chiefs of Mission of the United Nations and their families.

It was the kind of place where, on any given summer evening, Samba music emanated from hidden loudspeakers all over the club grounds and an endless Conga-cum-bongo drum line wove its way across The clubhouse and into the pool.

A Jet-Set Resort

It was called Talisman, and, alas, except for a few of its striking Japanese-style houses, it is no more. Founded in 1960 as a self-conscious jet set resort - at a time when the jet set was actually beginning to take jets Talisman lost its buzz, and its lease, only two years later. Today, this former playground of the rich and beautiful, located 3,000 feet east of the Pines dock, is the sober domicile of Park Service personnel assigned to the Fire Island National Seashore and winter home for the chief ranger.

But while the fizz lasted, it was, according to veterans of those long-ago Camelot summers, someplace else.

"I guess you could just sum up the whole atmosphere as Pucci simple." one ex-Talisman resident recalled for a reporter in 1962. "I mean someone once said all you needed for a weekend at Talisman was a Pucci in a Gucci and a Benzedrine in your purse. Everything was divinely unorganized. Most of the time we'd just slosh a couple of peaches in some champagne and invite a few friends over."

A New Twist

The Twist was introduced to the United States at one memorable Talisman affair during the summer of 1961. "Somebody hired Carl Holmes and his Commanders to play for dancing." the same burned-out jet setter said. "Anyway this girl who was there had just returned from Paris and at about two in the morning she started doing this absolutely weird dance. My dear, do you know that it was the first time the Twist had ever been done in America? Nobody slept that night until we all learned the awful thing.

Naturally, she continued to our rapt correspondent, "there were absolutely divine parties devoted to a theme. You know, such as Tahitiari or Calypso?

Everybody was always so imaginative about what they wore or didn't wear. I can remember getting dressed for one of those costume things, I wore a fishnet and I believe I carried a tambourine for effect.”

A Sort of U.N.

It was, writer Michael Braun summed up in his essay about Talisman in his 1962 report to the members of the Islands in the Sun Club, "a sort of a United Nations sur la plage, with everybody relaxing in 20 languages in a magnificent setting with no Hamptonized rules of what and what not to do

So, the next time you happen to be boating by the island's Park Service reservation and you think you hear Samba music. clinking tambourines. and manic. foreign repartee, don't worry. it isn't the Park Service: it's the spirit of Talisman.