Why Paying for Something Makes it Valuable

Did you ever forget YOUR phone number? I did, and I explain why in “Dyslexia Never Dies,” my latest article on Medium.   Check it out; the title only gives some of it away!

By the way, the link above is considered “a friend link” on Medium and guarantees that you will have access even if you haven’t paid the $50 annual fee to read all the articles on the site.  Personally, I find a lot of smart thinkers and good writers there.   And since the site at least tries to pay its writers, $50 isn’t a huge price to pay to keep journalists like me in toilet paper!

If you’re reading this, and you’re a subscriber to this blog, believe me, I appreciate your attention.  But as I’ve mentioned before, I began to write for Medium because I have a potentially greater audience there.  And maybe that’s because they charge a fee.

Let me tell you why I think this: Many lifetimes ago, when my father owned the Black Angus, a steak house in Manhattan, he decided to convert it into a disco/cabaret.  He would call it Big Julie’s — after himself, but that also happened to be the name of a famous Vegas high-roller mafioso type. 

This was in the mid seventies–pre Studio 54.  Cabaret was already extremely popular.  “Doing the Disco Hustle,” the New York Times reported, were a slew of big-name players, including Regine who opened her a chic boîte in the Delmonico Hotel and the Copacabana.  A slightly edgier scene had already been happening in downtown lofts, where the entire space was one huge dance floor, frequented by a mostly gay clientele.    

My father, who owned several restaurants and a chain of “Food Farm” supermarkets in the fifties and sixties, figured that if people were flocking to cabarets and discos, why not have both under the same roof?  Given his supermarket mentality — have as many products as possible and just get ’em into the store — he would not limit himself to a particular genre of entertainment nor ask his customers to pay a cover charge. 

I worked with him in those days. I booked headliners as diverse as  Laurie Beechman (a Broadway singer/actress who died young and now has a theater in her name) and the rock singer Meatloaf.  We also auditioned comics, among them Jay Leno, whom my father deemed “too ugly” (may my father rest in peace!).  Despite my urging — and knowingn that other clubs charged a cover — he would’t consider asking people to pay for entertainment and their dinner.  

Big Julie’s made headway coming out of the gate.  A story about the cutting-edge “drink pouring system” my father had installed was featured in the New Yorker. But we couldn’t sustain the traffic.  I’m convinced that it wasn’t the odd mix of headliners that doomed Big Julie’s.  It was the fact that people didn’t have to pay to watch them. 

You don’t value what you don’t pay for.  I struggle with this as a writer.  In the nineties, I earned as much as $7500 for one piece in New York magazine.  I was paid six-figure advances for many of my books.  I say this not to brag, nor even as proof of my worth as a writer, but because I was paid for my labor.  Those articles and books took time and energy. Not getting paid is not being valued.   

The internet — and other factors — changed the economies of writing, our reading habits, and the number of people who call themselves or want to be “writers.”   I don’t need to make as much as I used to, luckily, but it’s still nice to get paid.  For now, Medium is one answer to that dilemma.  (And I still post here, so I’m writing even more!)

 Do leave comments for me here and on Medium.  I like knowing who’s on the receiving end of my writing.