I had an interesting encounter today on the F-train (which became an E-train in Manhattan). The fact that I was reading King of the World, David Remnick’s biography of Mohammed Ali seemed to attract the attention of the man sitting across from me.
“Does he mention Chuvalo?” he asked.
“What?
“Does the book mention Chuvalo. He fought Ali in ’68.”
“I’m not sure,” I said.
“Check the index,” the man said and I did.
“He in there?”
“He’s mentioned on four pages,” I told the man looking down at the index.
“I fought Chuvalo,” he said. “I called Remnick one day and told him that he should write a piece about George Chuvalo and he told me to write it,” he said.
“So did you?”
“Nah. I didn’t want to write it,” he said.
“Why?”
“Well, Remnick has his own way of doing things. You know Sy Newhouse? Well, he doesn’t touch the editors at the New Yorker. They have their own fiefdom. He can do what he wants,”
“As an editor, you mean,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Well, I’d love to write for the New Yorker,” I said. At this point I noticed that we were at 53rd Street and Madison Avenue.
“I’m getting out here,” I said.
“So am I,” he said. “What do you do?”
“I’m a writer,” I said.
“Short stories?” he asked.
“Yeah, well…fiction, columnist, blogger. All kinds of stuff,” I said.
“What about you,” I asked this man, who was tall and bald.
“I’m a nihilist,” he said.
“Do you do anything other than be a nihilist?” I said.
“I can’t do anything else,” he said.
“So what’s a nihilist doing on the F-train at 9:30 am in the morning?” I asked.
“I’m going to the dentist,” he said. “When I was a boxer I lost my teeth so I’m being fitted for a new set.”
“You still a boxer?” I said asked. I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I studied the man’s physique. He had big hands, a broad barrel chest and a thick neck. He really did look like a boxer.
“No, I just celebrated by 60th birthday,” he said. “I haven’t boxed in a long time.”
“What are you going to do now that your’re 60?”
“What I always do. Since I was 10 I’ve done what I wanted. I figured out that no one likes anybody and that all the reasons you think you do things don’t matter,”
“Oh,” I was interested in hearing more of his philosophy.
“A school principal, actually a school supervisor, once told me that I should have had peer pressure. That it would’ve helped me in my life…”
“Were you kicked out of school?” I asked.
“You don’t want to know my story with school and classes and teachers,” he said.
The conversation continued on in this same intense manner. We briefly touched on Malcolm Gladwell, Tony Judt, Israeli politics, Israelis and then it was time to part ways.
“Before the dentist, I have to go to Barney’s to pick up some socks,” he said. “Have a very good life.”
We shook hands and I walked east on 6oth Street completely captivated by this strange encounter.
