London in New York

I am often amused by some of the critical commentary, on a variety of subjects, on the blog Scallwag & Vagabond, and believe that the Publisher, Mr. Christopher Koulouris is not generally motivated by malice. But the nature of a recent blog entitled, The curious breakdown of socialite Melissa Berkelhammer, wherein he poked fun at a certain New York Societal social fixture, who also currently writes for The Huffington Post, and who in the midst of a bout of existential angst posted on Facebook what appeared to be on first blush ”suicidal thoughts”, made me hesitate.  I am hardly one who is prone to pulling punches and have definitely launched some of my own missiles at social media figures, and for that reason certainly have my own detractors and I suspect I always will. C’est la vie.  My agenda is thus not to serve as a censor for anyone but you have to take responsibility for that which you do write, especially when you prose borders on cyber bullying. When you grow up in Queens and Brooklyn in the pre-Giuliani Bloomberg era, and you have been knocked unconscious by a punch to the head from an assailant with brass knuckles and have been mugged more than once and likely saved other times by Guardian Angels on the D Train home to Sheepshead Bay, you develop thick skin and expect others do so as well, especially when it pertains to snide critique of one’s social standing.

Regardless of the reasons that one “might” be suicidal, whether or not those reasons are valid, significant or otherwise noteworthy is irrelevant. We are all wired differently. And especially in these unusual times that we find ourselves living in, emotional and psychological breakdowns and conditions which can lead to an interim deterioration in mental health are far more common place. You only need to pick up the paper or go to one of New York’s leading hospitals, like NYU Langone Medical Center or New York Presbyterian late at night to realize that in this city where many live a rather fortunate life, there are in fact many lonely, broken, dispirited souls; some of whom are tremendously intelligent and accomplished human beings but for whatever reasons, depression comes to them more easily than happiness. Through folks like Camille Tibaldeo at Fountain Gallery, I have been exposed to and learned more about some of society’s most talented artists suffering from mental illness, whose work hangs in the hallways and boardrooms of many of the banks, law firms and corporations in this town.  It is also the reason why I have Dr. Robert Cancro (see also: Cancro Honored for 40 Years of Contributions  to Psychiatry) on speed dial on my blackberry. I myself am certainly not free of the demons that afflict many of us. You walk in another man’s shoes you begin to understand their suffering. I have slipped and fallen from grace and gone through my own journey of the dark night of the soul. At the time I wished that I did not have to go through what I did.  Nevertheless, I stand here today a more evolved citizen for the experience. Survival is in fact the new success.

So, unless you are someone’s medic or therapist, apparent cries for help of this kind whether they be on Facebook or more privately should not be met with ridicule, scorn or contempt, even if said individual lives what most would perceive a rather privileged life.  In the case of the Gay Rutgers’s teen student who jumped from the George Washington Bridge after being the victim of gay bashing, would we have stood on the bridge to taunt and ridicule him into jumping? Is that the new role of the social journalist or blogger? Should private citizens who are socially active be treated similarly as celebrities who thrust themselves in the public eye? Do private citizens deserve the WWE Smackdown’s that we routinely see on Bravo’s Real Housewives when they slip up?

Via my own vehicle, ManhattanSociety.com, I have covered photographically and editorially many of the folks that are routinely featured in leading Society publications in New York, Palm Beach and beyond as well as leaders of business, media and industry.  Ironically, I have learned that I am happier than many who have lives that most of us may dream about. Perhaps it is strange, but it is a different reality. Inner peace is something that you cannot buy with a trust fund, a lotto purse or a Master of the Universe’s salary, although perhaps it does make it easier or at least the medications to soothe your pain a more affordable.  Depression does not have a zip code. Or does it?  It has been my experience that depression seems to afflict those who in my estimation are generally more intelligent, perceptive, creative or from more affluent backgrounds.  A good psychiatrist would thus seem to make a better living and have greater demand for his services in Carnegie Hill or Bronxville rather than Washington Heights/Inwood.  Or perhaps it is just the lack of stigma among the more well heeled classes and their openness about their relationships with psychiatric professionals. While studies have shown that “low socioeconomic status (SES) is generally associated with high psychiatric morbidity, more disability, and poorer access to health care. Among psychiatric disorders, depression exhibits a more controversial association with SES.” (See: Socioeconomic Inequalities in Depression: A Meta-Analysis).  According to the esteemed,  Dr. Robert Cancro, the Lucius N. Littauer Professor of Psychiatry at NYU Langone Medical Center: “Depression is the only serious mental illness whose prevalence is inversely related  to social class.” Although in fairness to Melissa B, this fall I found myself making a shiva call to her family’s home on the passing of her father and this will be the first Thanksgiving her family will celebrate without him.

The construct which I have often referred to as “The Society Show” in New York City is compromised of a social based philanthropic life with its own unique cast of characters emblematic of the culture and style of the Upper East Side of Manhattan and in particular certain zip codes along the Avenue,  Fifth and Park Avenue’s to be more precise beginning at the Sherry Netherland and The Pierre up to Carnegie Hill, extending to sections of  York Avenue and the East End along Carl Schurz Park and the banks of the East River.  Social standing in this enclave is in many respects more important than celebrity. As it is within any community,  there are social politics.  For women, navigating the social terrain of New York Society can be like a scene out of “The Heathers” or Society Mean Girls, only the characters are more likely to be Hedge Fund Wives. A Gilding Lily who has the Right Address may find it all intoxicating. Many deal with it with far greater trepidation worried about their weight, style, wealth or perceived social stature and their affiliations and alliances, all while trying to avoid stepping on social land mines or being ridiculed by bloggers. In this world, even the have’s can often feel like the “have-nots”, relatively speaking. Despite my own academic pedigree and former Upper East Side residence, I am all too aware sometimes that I am the guy with  the camera, not the one “living the life”, even if maybe in some respects I am.

Melissa Berkelhammer was raised and immersed in the culture of Upper East Side’s social philanthropic milieu  nd has become a social fixture on New York’s charitable circuit.  We met almost 6 years ago at some rather intimate events where there was no red carpet or mass media in the homes of  some privately Elite Upper East Side residents. Despite receiving her education from The Chapin School on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, performing on Broadway as a child actress in Neil Simon’s “Brighton Beach Memoirs”, and attending  Princeton University and Harvard Law School, Melissa has steered away from a career in white collar slavery. Fortunately, her family is able to provide a level of security that she can pursue an alternate life path.  Maybe it is not fair and classism being what it is it will hardly make her a sympathetic figure among the “have-nots” and those who go off to white collar jobs to pay off our student loans.  Melissa has been ridiculed, even socially bullied by certain folks for being omnipresent on New York’s social scene and the media attention she has garnered, often by those similarly inclined who did not get similar media attention. She has not  frankly adapted well to dealing with bullies.  As we all know, there are two sides of the fame game.  Having conversed with Melissa about her hyper socialism (not of the Karl Marx variety), it is in fact the socio-cultural landscape  and the beat of New York City that she is enamored with more so than working in the fields of finance, law or pursuing another white collar professional career or launching a business.  Not so crazy when you consider how many former finance folks and lawyers have become chefs (former Corporate Attorney, Donatella Arpaia), writers and even fashion designers. Trust me, unless you have never written a 75-100 page memo or brief as I did in my first year, after graduating from the University of Pennsylvania Law School, at Weil Gotshal & Manges, you truly have no idea why depression is high among those who pursue careers in the law. Consider the David Nee Foundation which was founded after a lawyer suicide. That she might choose to opt out of a career in the law is not unusual. Unlike many of those who have pursued the Fame Game achieved social notoriety with rather curious aims or a manipulative agenda, Melissa is in fact the polar opposite of those folks. She did not infiltrate a culture, she was raised a part of it, and in candor probably would do well to evolve beyond it.

Melissa currently writes for The Huffington Post; a mainstream media publication held in greater esteem and with far wider circulation than certain fashion blogs and anonymous Twitter accounts of some OCD press release printing ”fashion-journalists/coke-heads”, who arrived in New York City 15 minutes ago, only to launch their stealth attacks on her.  I will refrain from naming names.  If Melissa wants it, I see greater things for her than writing about Social Life. But in the end if the Upper East Side girl with a notorious social addiction and a keen intellect decides merely to use said intellect to remain a social scribe (who is on more “lists” than many of her detractors) is that so awful or threatening?

Melissa Berkelhammer, like you and me, is hardly perfect, and she will be the first person to tell you so. Moreover, it must be emphasized that she does not see herself as a victim.  While I would hope that she develops thicker skin and becomes a tad less expressive on Facebook, she is human and it would be disconcerting to anyone to have to be subjected randomly snarky invective from bloggers, public disses and underhanded catty dismissals from certain society mean girls, which would amount to social bullying were she a gay teen or adolescent.  Those that truly know her on a personal level, and who have met and conversed with her and many of her close friends, confidants and family outside the social milieu in Manhattan, know her to be a responsible citizen and a friend of some local charities.  Melissa Berkelhammer’s mistake was sharing some personal angst over knocks on her by anonymous detractors rather publically and not realizing that venting in an overly expressive way will set off alarm bells. Likewise, a blog ridiculing her is hardly the work of an aspiring Jimmy Breslin, on the eve of Thanksgiving and the holiday season no less.