Tobacco Documents Online

u.aa, na aivcSi ment banker from Scarsdale, New York, is a Lou Gehrig type: tall, steady, and dignified. As a teen-age pitcher, he got a contract offer from the St. Louis Cards and has wondered ever since what life would have been like had he not chosen mar- riage and busi- ness. Alternating with me in right is the team's swaggering cheerleader, Joe Diamond, a New Jersey-based pub- lisher of stock prospectuses. "Joe D.," as he is inevitably nicknamed, put out more than any of us to be here. First he lost 113 pounds. Then, to soften up his wife, he bought her a Jaguar for her birthday. "When you add it all up," he says, "I figure it cost me a year of starvation and about 44 grand to play ball for a week." He swears it was worth it. But in four days, the campers, most of whom have spent their off-hours soaking in whirlpool tubs, have used 440 rolls of tape and four dozen Ace bandages-more than a major league team does in the course of two spring training camps. "Fantasy baseball?" an aching Stuart Fersht of Manhattan grouses good-naturedly from the end of the training table. "They ought to call this Fantasy Hospital." Heads nod all around. Mickey smiles. Though his fa- mously aching knees prevent him from doing anything more than con- ducting a home-run hitting demon- stration, he is the soul of the camp and the continuing idol of even the real Yankees. "Funny,"he says, "in some ways I'm even more famous now than when I was playing ball. And all be- cause of a game." "That's the great thing about it," his friend and fellow Hall of Famer Whitey Ford comments. "Baseball is just a game, and almost anyone can play it." Everything builds up to the big game on the last day, when the 54 campers play against the real Yankees. The Major, who is emerging as the George Burns of the camp, sets down the training rules for the night before the big game: "Anyone in bed before 3 a.m.," he deadpans, "won't be al- lowed to play ball tomorrow." We bow to his rules and, after dining and discoing with a young woman who claims to be Minnie Mouse at the nearby Walt Disney World, we wind up in Hank Bauer's hotel room. A red-hot poker game is in progress. Mickey, who is passing around an open bottle of Dom Perignon, is telling great, unprintable stories of his days with Billy Martin. By the time the evening breaks up, we have met The Major's curfew with room to spare. Everyone is a little red-eyed the next afternoon, but no less expectant. We're playing in the big stadium with the Omniturf and the flashing score- board, just like the real thing. With the exception of an unfortunate who o tie is s oe laces, injuries are forgotten. It's time to do or die. After the World Series-style in- troductions, The Major calls us to- gether for a pep talk. "Men," he counsels, "if they get too far ahead, start a fight. There's five times as many of us as there are of them. We're bound to win." It would have required a brawl to save us. By the 11th inning, when my team came up to bat, the campers were on the short end of a 20-to-1 score and even the watching wives were ready to pack it in. We lost 21 to 1. In the locker room afterward, there is a lot of beer drinking, address ex- changing, and promising to see each other at the next fantasy camp. There are guffaws and teasing, jokes about holding the next fantasy camp at Lourdes. Then, reluctantly, we begin unbuttoning the pinstripes that have made us Yankees for a week. Before tucking the uniform away in his duffel bag and heading to the showers, I see one guy kiss his. Gradually the locker room begins clearing out. Glen and I linger longer than the others, looking up at our name tags, alongside those that identify the lockers of Mickey, Whitey, The Major, Enos, and Moose. "Gosh," Glen says at last, putting into words the thought that is on my mind, "do we really have to go back to the real world?" On the way over to the bus that will take us back to the hotel and the con- cluding awards dinner, a little boy comes up to me with his autograph book. "Hey, mister," he says, "you're a Yankee, aren't you?" "Yeah, kid," I answer, reaching for his pen. "I suppose you could say I was." E] Those interested in finding out more about The Mickey Mantle/iti'hatey Ford Fantasy Baseball Camp should write: P. 0. Box 68, Grayson, KY 41143-0068, or call Wanda Greer at (606) 474-6976. In New York, call (212) 382-1660. 12 PH1LlP NOARIS MAGAZL"!E! 1LARCH-APAIL 10

~, . ~ ~ eer t ~a unhke arip ot ca ~ ~er B us~~ ee .Qe.s.er is vexhat " teurized I ' ~,s t ' th ' ~ e _one hat;s~ iltera "' to give ou ~i ~' , y e c , smooth taste 4 reaI draft beer`m a bottle. Heat pasteuriied, beers just can't4o that. '- ~OLD-FI~;TERE _ ILLER GE~ll11NI DRAF7" > A II~~~ „~ , Aw  ! Ur. si1 *-` ' i , *` .,w ' •

I _a II1iRI1It A firsthand account of a harrowing visit to the devastation in Armenia. 0 ur chartered Norwe- gian cargo jet enters So- viet airspace over the Black Sea. Two hours and 12 minutes later we make a slippery landing in a rainy, icy mist in Yerevan, the capital of earthquake-ravaged Ar- menia. The tarmac is jammed with planes from all over the world, along with cargo jets from Aeroflot, the So- viet airline; the Soviet Air Force; and a big U.S. Air Force Starlifter. We are bringing 71 tons of food in the Philip Morris relief shipment (General Foods canned beef; Kraft rice, condensed milk, and cheese; Maxwell House coffee; and Tang powdered orange drink). We are also carrying special Red Cross relief sup- plies, including telex machines and winter clothing and shoes for children. As Soviet soldiers begin to unload our plane, I walk across the tarmac in- to the terminal. It looks like an older building that was constructed in the 1920s. "Are you from America?" a girl in her twenties asks in halting English. "Yes," I reply. Smiling, she says, "Thank you for coming. We need your help!" Officials of the Soviet Foreign Min- istry quickly arrange for our group to visit the devastated areas. Amid an awesome disaster, clearly the Soviet Union has opened itself to the world. The Hotel Armenia is a beehive of activity. People from around the world have come to help. There are Finns, Swiss, French, Britons, Ameri- cans, and the ever-present search dogs. You can feel the electricity of a .4 Sovret rlrmy ~IL4SH unit at Spitak soccer freld. common purpose, and the language barrier doesn't matter. We meet Nick Sol, a doctor from Colorado Springs, and Ed Herndon, a rancher from Stratton, Colorado, who has had some paramedic training. Neither of them has ever been outside the United States before. They were strangers until they met on the way to Yerevan. Like many of the volun- teers, they had made quick, impulsive decisions to help. Nick, for example, heard about the earthquake on his car radio on Saturday; on Sunday he at- tended a meeting; on Monday he was on a plane headed for Armenia. Early the next morning, we pile into an old green van and start the two- S hour drive to Spitak, high in the Cacausus Mountains and at the epi- center of the earthquake. Our group includes Phil:p Morris Magazine Chief of International Correspondents Ber- nard Robinson, myself, and Dimitri Sabbagh, a London-based video cameraman. We are accompanied by Vladimir Dalanian of the Armenian Council of Ministers. Early in the drive, things look normal. Farther along, we see a barn col- lapsed in the middle of a field. And then, Spitak. As far as the eye can see, there is indescribable devastation. It had been a busy town of 20,000, with two big facto- ries and a soccer stadium. Authorities say as many as 18,000 died. The massive earthquake hit at 11:41 a.m.-the worst possible time, with children in school, women in their homes, workers on the job. The poorly constructed buildings shook, and then crumbled. "If you were in- side, you probably did not survive," Vladimir says grimly. On Spitak's steep, winding streets, where low houses had stood close to- gether, we see two old women sitting outside at a sma11 fire. One of them comes over to welcome us. We tell her we are Americans. With great dignj ty, she gestures an invitation to join them. She ushers us through the still- standing door frame of what had been her home-although we could have easily ~ V BY GUY L. SMITH

® y:+r~wa~r~ ~. ~' ~ wmr p s ,,. 0 IMr... • ~ --- ® ® , i ~ 0 0 ® ® 0 ® ® ® . ( 1,. d ~Y~as63a~q

Bread was all many had to eat for several days. ED HERNOON worked at the hospital when I first got here. There was a girl, about 14 years old, who had been found trapped under a building. Her legs were bro- ken and she was partially paralyzed on her right side. She did not understand me, of course, but she would follow my gaze and try to re- spond in some way. Every time I went in there I tried to be real upbeat, which was hard because there were a lot of people in that hospital hurting. You'd try to smile. I told her I was from Ameri- ca and I'd visit with her and walked around it. They offer us some of the bread that has probably been their only food for several days. They tell us that their families are all gone. We drive to the soccer field. The su- gar factory at one end is a pile of rub- ble. Coffins are stacked everywhere, some filled, some yet to be filled. At the other end, the Soviet Army has set up a MASH unit. Incredibly, it is reminiscent of M'A'S"H on TV- the nurses, the doctors, the surgery, the suffering, even the colonel. Espe- cially striking, though-as we stand amid the rubble, victims in tents, cof- fins stacked everywhere, Soviet sol- diers and tanks, a MiG jet flying low, and a helicopter landing-is what the veteran Soviet colonel says. Told why we are here, he says, "Thanks to Hear,y stones weigh down coffins on their way to burial. hold her hand and try to be of some comfort because I couldn't speak her language at all. It came down to the last day and I was going to leave and I went in one last time to see her. I told her I was go- ing home and held her hand a little while. When I got up she had one lone tear in her eye, and it just about broke my heart. When I got to the door I turned and looked back at her and I waved. And the hand that had been paralyzed ... she moved it ..* moved the fingers a little bit, and waved back at me. I was euphoric. I'll never be the same. Ev- ery time I sit down and play with my kids, or get up and go to the refrigerator, or lie down in a nice warm bed, I'll appreciate it like I never did before. Just how special life is." America for helping." The colonel invites me into one of the tents. Inside it is warm. In a dark corner, a badly injured man lies on cot. Alongside the cot there is a little boy. His name is ~ Ashad. He is taking care of his father. The father says that the Soviet doctors "were of great help to him." He also expresses gratitude to the United States. I ask about his family. Two daughters and Ashad, he says. One has been tak- en to Yerevan for surgery. About the other daughter, he says nothing. I do not ask about their mother. a Standing on the soccer field, we notice a small yel- low car drive up. A large coffin is strapped to its roof. Five men get out and walk to the coffins. They pick up a small one: a child's coffin. They place it in the car's trunk and drive off. Not one of them has spoken a word. As we drive farther to what had been a busy resi- dential section, we see that the rescue effort is subtly, terribly changing. Within a few days, the chances of finding any more survivors will be outweighed by the dangers of disease from open sewage and decaying corpses. We talk to Ian John- stone, a fireman from Lancashire County in England. His brigade spe- cializes in rescuing people from collapsed buildings. They have been here, liv- ing in tents, for almost a week. At first they found a few survivors; now they are finding only bodies. He tells us that the Armenians are religious peo- FRIENDS IN NEED Philip Morris was one of dozens of U.S. businesses, lar and small, that sent donations of supplies or cash to I menia. • Johnson & Johnson sent more than $500,000 woi of medical supplies. The tradition of aiding are struck by tragedy is hardly new; the company sE help to victims of the San Francisco earthquake bc In 1906. • The Mobil Foundation contributed to the relief orgai zation, Americares. • Mediflex donated 5,000 sets of tubing for blood trar fusions, and Baxter Healthcare donated 10,000 blo collection bags. . ruU .trs...-d na..___l e.._.__. u -----•d---

If you were inside, you probably did not suruive. ple who set great stock in being able to bury lost loved ones. But soon it will be necessary to bulldoze and level the ruins, wheth- er or not all the victims have been found. Where people had lived, now muddy streets are filled with milling soldiers and refugees. The destruc- tion is capricious, almost taunting. At one intersec- tion, the buildings on all four corners are just shaky skeletons, but the overhead traffic signal is still work- ing; its lights change from red to green over the gro- tesque landscape. As we depart Spitak for Leninakan, also hard hit by the quake, I see our cam- eraman Dimitri deep in conversation with Vladimir. They are both studying a piece of paper. I ask Vladimir what's going on. He tells me that Dimitri has family in Leninakan, but NICK 301 his isn't like anything I've seen before. It makes M*A *S*H look like kindergarten. They're using disposable supplies that they've re- ceived from us over and over and over again. They're us- ing equipment I have never seen in my career and didn't even see when I was in school, or when I was a kid and went to the doctor's of- fice. That's how old these supplies are. Glass syringes, with needles being reused. I watched instruments being sterilized in alcohol for surgery. It makes you think and it makes you a little scared about things. I don't see my parents as often as I should. When I go back the first he didn't want us to think he was unprofes- sional by mentioning it until we were leaving. He has asked Vladimir Bn'tish fire ftghters sift through the rubble. thing I'm going to do is go see my parents and my fami- ly. It reinforces how fragile life is and that it's a good thing to hug the people you love every day, and take care of things and enjoy yourself, because this sort of thing can happen anywhere. This place is far away, but it isn't so different. Men still to check up on his family later. I say that we will immediately go and find them. It takes a while to find the building. • AT&T donated fax machines and communications equipment. AT&T operators were instructed to accept collect calls from Armenia-although such calls had never been allowed from the Soviet Union before. • The Shop Rite grocery chain donated trucks to transport donated goods within the United States. • Lipton donated enough dried soup to feed 200,000 people. • Echo Housewares donated 5,000 can openers. • The Apparel Foundation donated more than $3 million worth of clothing. • PepsiCo, Bankers Trust, Citicorp, and R. H. Macy & Co. sent checks. • Chrysler set up an employee matching fund to cover employee donations up to $150,000. It also donated the use of a Gulfstream aircraft to fly supplies and doctors to Armenia. We all breathe a sigh of re- lief when we see that it is standing intact. Part of the ceiling has collapsed, but there is little serious dam- age. It has been aban- doned, but some people living in a tent nearby tell us that no one has been hurt in it. We leave greetings and messages from Dimitri. The drive back to Yere- van is long. Vladimir's wife had packed food for every- one. The Armenian bread and hard-boiled eggs taste love women. Children still love to hug their daddies and momrnies. There's not that much difference. This is a good example of the world coming together for a catastrophe, and that's wonderful. Nowwe cansee that if the politicians aren't in- volved, the people themselves take care of each other." good. But our thoughts remain with the old women in Spitak, with the col- onel, with little Ashad, with that small yellow car. We arrive in Yerevan. Our air- plane, which has come from Geneva with the second half of our shipment, is now ready to leave. We must imme- diately depart. From the air at night, with a bright moon lighting the snowcapped moun- tains and sending long shadows down the dark valleys, the Armenian landscape looks beautiful. Hard and beautiful. We're thinking about the hardness of the land. The brutality of nature. And the absolutely un- quenchable spirit of the people. The plane is dark and quiet as we fly away, fly home. (] PHIL.IP `,IORRIS MAGAZINE, MARCH,IPRIL 1999 17

Enough is... Enough Taxation! A national poll finds a majority of Americans do not support an increase in cigarette taxes. America's smokers already pay an extra $10 billion in cigarette taxes to fund government programs. And these taxes hit hardest those who can least afford them. We must find better sources for new revenue. Enough Legislation! A majority of Americans do not support smoking bans, according to a national poll. With govern- ments considering new rules and regulations telling us what to do and when, anti-smoking laws are wasting valuable time and money in America's legislatures. Enough Control! Even off the job, some employers are ordering smokers not to light up. Reasonable people agree that no one should be able to dictate what legal activities we can or can't do in our own homes. Enough Censorship! Freedom of speech-including the freedom to advertise-is a right we must preserve. A ban on cigarette advertis- ing is not supported by the majority of Americans, according to a national poll. Those who would ban cigarette ads to protect us from words and pictures ignore the First Amendment. Enough Harassment! Recently, a woman who was smoking in a smoking section of a restaurant was assaulted. Across the country, smokers are being subjected to physical and verbal attacks. No civilized person approves of such actions. Enough Discrimination! Singling out one group of people to pay more than a fair share of taxes, firing someone who smokes at home, or harassing someone in public is discrimination. Americans want and deserve better. Eno~ is en.~u,gh! A national survey finds a majority of American adults do not support more restrictive or tougher anti-smoking measures. "~. T H • E TQBACCO INSTITUTE 1875 I Street, N.W., Suite 800 Washington, D.C. 20006 800-424-9876 Poll data obtained by a nationwide telephone poll of 1500 adults conducted by Hamilton, Frederick & Schneiders in December, 1988.

NOTEBOOK 4 THE U.S. CHAMBER Of COP f you're an average smoker, you are paying close to $270 a year in federal, state, and local excise taxes. Those taxes account for 40 percent of the cost of a pack of cigarettes; in some areas, it's closer to 50 percent. And there are plans afoot to raise excise taxes on cigarettes even more. Excise taxes are bad for American workers and bad for American business. The National Association of Manufacturers unequivocally op- poses them. So does the U.S. Chamber of Commerce. The Cham- ber is one of the leading voices of American business, and we asked its vice president and chief economist, Dr. Richard Rahn, about the Chamber's position. PM: Why is the U.S. Chamber of Commerce opposed to excise taxes? RAHN: The U.S. Chamber of Commerce opposes the increase of any tax, including the excise tax. Tax increases tend to slow eco- nomic growth. They take money from the private sector, which uses it for investment and job creation, and transfer it to the government, which spends it less efficiently. Higher taxes of any kind, including higher excise taxes, will make America a poorer country offering less opportunity, rather than a richer country offering greater opportunity, to its citizens. PM: How do excise taxes, in par- ticular, tend to slow economic growth? RAHN: If you tax a product, its price goes up, and demand for the product is likely to decline. Lower demand will have a negative effect on the in- comes of those people involved in the manufac- ture and distribu- tion of the pro- duct, and to a certain extent reduce their abiJ- N EXCISE EXTRA MERCE SPEAKS OUT ON EXCISE TAXES TAX FACTS L ast year, cigarette taxes were increased in four states: in Michigan by four cents, in Rhode Island by two cents, in Iowa by eight cents, and in California by a whopping 25 cents. Cigarette tax increases have been proposed in eight states for consideration in the 1989 legislative session: State Proposed Increase Arizona 10Q (to 25d) Arkansas 10Q (to 31¢) Missouri 6S (to 19(;) Montana 1Q or 54^ (to 17Q or 21C) New Jersey 1¢ or 5Q (to M or 32(;) Oregon U or 8Q (to 30S or 35C) Texas .52 (to 26.5d) Wyoming 4¢ (to 12¢) Sourcr. The Tobacco lnstitut# ity to purchase goods and services. In addition, any increase in a con- sumption tax, such as the excise tax, diminishes the real incomes of the con- sumers who purchase that particular product. It takes money directly out of their pockets and channels it to the government. There is no "free lunch" when it comes to taxation. Any tax in- crease takes money out of the private economy and has a dampening effect EVERy T(ME I NP.N qN6 F AtXmENf ! ~5inx 0iv G!(~RET r. 5W DON'T SMp1CEA$ SOPPpl)-T ENVUVI4 %voRTN`f" C~6SES ? on economic growth. PM: During the campaign, President Bush promised the American people that he would not raise taxes. Can he keep that promise? RAHN: I think the chances are pretty good as long as the American people and the American business com- munity join together to support the president's commitment. I believe the president understands the economics and the politics of this issue, and re- mains strongly committed to keeping his promise. We all know, however, that he faces strong pressure from the media and from some members of Congress to increase taxes. I believe it would be tremendously helpful if your readers would write to their congres- sional representatives and ask them to hold the line on excise taxes and other forms of tax increases. The president can keep his promise, if we all pitch in and help. PM: Are excise taxes a reliable way of raising revenue for the gov- ernment? RAHM: When people estimate the revenue that will be generated by an excise tax, they assume that demand for the taxed product will remain constant. Since the tax itself often causes demand for the product to decline, the revenue raised by the tax frequently falls short of the predictions. PM: In recent years, some legislators have tried to take the sting out of ex- cise taxes by "earmarking" the reven- ue for popular programs. What are the consequences of "earmarking?" RAHN: The whole notion of "ear- marking" is a misleading one. The truth is, Congress has no effective en- ~~ forcement mech- Q anism to ensure .-~ that earmarked ~ money gets to the ~ project for which ~ it is intended. ~ Even in the cases iki of earmarked .p trust funds, such " as the highway C

PM NOTEBOOK trust fund, a lot of that money gets diverted to pur- poses other than those for which it was raised. Even assuming the ear- marked money gets to the right program, this only frees up money from general revenues to be spent on ad- ditional government pro- grams. The net effect is an increase in the size of government-something the American people have clearly shown at the polls that they do not want. I cannot stress strongly enough how closely this issue of taxation is linked to the role government plays in our lives. Our experience with authoritarian regimes throughout the world shows us that the greatest threat to individual liberty today is government. If you want to live in a country of economic growth, individual oppor- tunity, and liberty, you do not want to have a big gov- ernment with high levels of taxation. Dr. Rahn earned his Ph.D. in business economics at Co- lumbia University. He writes frequently on tax issues and has been a guest commentator on such programs as the Today Show, Good Morning America, and the MacNeil/Lehrer News- hour. He served as an economic adviser to President George Bush during the 1988 campaign. Over 200,000 of our readers returned the postcard that ran in our Fall 1988 issue indicating that they would like to participate in pro- grams to help stop unfair taxation. You can too. Anyone interested in more information may write to: Excise Taxes, Philip Morris Magazine, 120 Park Ave., New York, NY 10017. TEA FOR THREE Author Tama Janowitz (right), her na#her and feftow author Phy1ra (left), and film producer Ismail Merchant at the first of a planned series of Mterview Evenings. Held in the ballroom of the Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts In New York last December, the event was sponsored by PMM as pert of its continued support for the arts aned the literary community. THE PIPE SMOKER'S EPHEMERIS J S Y I L E H 0 D F P T X 0 T L S A W E Z A 0 0 K C D F W K E 0 P F V D P F T 0 N A S M G P K J M N I W H U X Z V M U A T N A A C C H P F 0 0 S W H L E 0 W F R C N S C L 0 K T Y M I G S S L U L P X K N I W R V B H W I H A U C E R R P N U C H F Z E K B L W H C M R W M H E L J V A Z X I T D S N H T Z I A P L Z X A L R S 0 T R L S G U B H K W I B 0 G I Q M A W C R R K A V I G Z L W D I X X R C T 0 H A S A H Q Q U U C N X C R Q D K D V B T L U Q U H L C D I F S C H U T F N E Y P E H N T E U DJ N 0 K M 0 V N K M I 0 M M F V R A D X 0 U A E P J S P R LO R A S I D Y T C D U D F R C L R L 0 B M A D F M K P W D S Y B 0 K I T F A B Y I P R W R N I M Q K L A R N Y U W C E R Q E B FIND THESE HIDDEN WORDS: (ANSWERS IN NEXT ISSUE.) BRIAR PIPE CALABASH POUCH CASTELLO RADICE CLAY ROANOKE CORNCOB SMOKER COTERIE SMYRNA DUNHILL TOBACCO HUMIDOR TOMDUNN MEERSCHAUM TURKISH NICOTINE VIRGINIA s [Reprinted from The Pipe Smokers Ephemeris, pub- lished by Tom Dunn of College Point, New York. Puzzle created by Jack Christoffel of Westminster, California.j

A a res- taurant owner, I find the smok- ing restrictions implemented last year in New York City noth- ing short of a nightmare. The city now says that I must set aside 50 percent of the seating area in my restaurant as a non-smoking section. In my case, as I am sure is the case with all restaurant owners, the re- strictions have not solved any problems. They have created one where there were none before. I have been in business in New York City for 28 years and have never had a problem with smoking in my restaurant. My patrons have always been fine regulating them- NOTEBOOK PERSONAL TOUCH r gal NONSMOKING SECTIONS: AN UNNECESSARY EVIL Andrg Sottner Is the head chef and owner of Now York's Lvt6ee. selves, and I have never re- ceived anything but compli- ments on my restaurant's atmosphere. Restaurant owners are in the business to please our customers, and at Lutece we take great pride in our service. I don't have many tables in my restaurant, and we are always busy. In the past we have always been able to seat people as soon as a table becomes free. Now, patrons must wait for tables to open in the smoking or non- smoking sections. Cus- tomers do not like waiting and being told where to sit. Being in business as long as I have, I have quite a few regular customers. Many now cannot sit at their regular tables, because I have been forced to split my restaurant into smoking and non-smoking sections. Fur- thermore, Lutece attracts many of the thousands of foreigners who visit New York each year. Laws that limit smoking are uniquely North American, and foreign tourists do not un- derstand our restrictions. I now find myself trying to ex- plain to them that they cannot smoke in the area in which they are sitting. It dis- turbs me that I must run my business this way. There are many other reasons why the restrictions are just not practical. My restaurant has four small rooms, two of which must now be non-smoking. Often in parties of four there are likely to be smokers and non-smokers. Because smokers must sit in one area, non- smokers in the party are now ex- posed to much more smoke than they would have been before. I am fortunate that I have a large clientele, and there are always people to fill my tables. Restaura- teurs who don't have crowds end up with empty tables while cus- tomers wait for seating to open in their preferred sections. The amount of money lost from just one empty table a night over a full year could be devastating to a restaurant owner. I am a non- smoker and have never smoked in my life. For 28 years I have run my res- taurant without a problem. But all of that has changed now, because the New York City Council is telling m ~e how to run my business. Andri Soltner Soltner is the owner and head chef of Lutece in New York G'ity. ~ The New York Times has called Lutece "a 28 year-old legend. "It is recognized as one of the world's fanest French restau- rants. Lutece isfamous not only ~ for its f:nc food but for its superb service. ~ I