PERSONAL PERSPECTIVE : L.A. vs. New York: Oh, No! Not Another Smoking Ban

April 10, 1995: My deja vu nightmare was about to begin.

I am the general manager of a restaurant. And for the second time in my life, I am asked to be the enforcer of a law against smoking. It’s not that I want to shirk my civic and professional responsibility. It’s just that I was a dismal failure at this task the last time around--in Los Angeles, two years ago. Shouldn’t such an important job be left to law-enforcement professionals?

In Los Angeles, I ran the erstwhile Olive. It was known for its hipness and sophistication--which translates as “dark and smoky.” During my yearlong tenure there, I was bludgeoned with the city-wide ban on smoking, which caused untold confusion among the P.C. lunch crowd and feigned indifference among the night-crawling aspiring types.

I had to decide whose interests were the priority--and place ashtrays accordingly. I decided civil disobedience would be the way to approach the smoking ban--if only to stimulate the lobotomized Hollywood population into discussing something other than their car fax. Besides, I didn’t see how this law could be enforced--though the genius of it soon became apparent.

The raising of the collective consciousness that ensued gave new meaning to the term “righteous indignation.” I never expected the public to enforce what health officials and police could not. The New Yorker in me could not foresee what hue and cry it would cause in the largest city in the most litigious state in the Union. Civil lawsuits, anonymous threats, boycotts and health inspections were suddenly commonplace. An unenforceable law was enforcing itself.

My God, I thought, these people are taking this seriously. I never did get the picture in Hollywood. Within six months, I headed back to my anarchic home.

Dining out in New York is a way of life for most, an art form to many. This is the locale of some of the oldest and most popular restaurants and saloons--as well as some of the most well-traveled drinkers and smokers.

The habits of such a large group of vice-infested, obsessive-compulsive types are not easily curbed. But the Council of the City of New York passed local law No. 232-A--to essentially ban smoking in public places. And on April 10, this incredibly complicated legislation became law.

Late Friday night, April 7, I was looking across the crowded dining room of the Bowery Bar--the hottest of New York restaurants and where I now work. The place--to use the word of the moment--is fabulous ; the room thick with the likes of Kate and Elle, Calvin and Ralph, Wesley and Ms. Ciccone--and many who want to be near them. I strain my reddening eyes to identify the starlet in the corner, but my view is obscured by the exhale of a fashion designer’s cigarette. For the room is also thick with the haze of dense, tobacco-infused air. Whether a trend-setter or trend-seeker, everyone smokes.

A sweet young thing, who professes to working out three days a week and being an avid herbology student, expounds on holism as she holds in a drag of her Marlboro Light. Her male companion nods in agreement--and bums a smoke from another nonsmoking guest at the same table, who swears he never buys them, only when he’s having a drink. He’s a regular customer, and is probably sure he doesn’t really smoke.

Most patrons, whether aware of it or not, are smoking. In this downtown scene, cigarettes are a fashion accessory. As I scan the room, I have to wonder if the air will be any clearer in three days time.

Life in New York has a peculiar effect. Living in the pace-setting center of crime, occupational death, poverty, infant mortality, drug addiction and more social ills than Dickensian London has a way of minimizing the impact of victimless transgressions. When 10 million people are crammed into a space the size of a medium theme park, they had better learn a level of tolerance for even the most unsavory habits of their fellow man.

We are often accused of being hard and cold, indifferent to the needs of those less fortunate. But each day most of us ask ourselves, “Who is less fortunate than me? I live here!” Anyone who has taken a subway at rush hour knows what I mean.

The laws and ordinances of such a society become subjective in the light of grave social ills and the government’s ability to enforce civic law. In the pick-up basketball game of New York life, the rule has always been, “No harm, no foul.”

Since citizens arrests are not my forte , I decided that, as in Los Angeles, Gandhian principles of civil disobedience would prevail in my restaurant--as they are in many others throughout New York. Taking chances is a way of life here, so rather than stand idly by as my livelihood files out the door in search of an ashtray, I’m going to offer them a light.

Nearly five weeks into the new law, something funny is happening. Rather, not much is happening at all. Restaurants all over town are exhibiting as much adherence to the new smoking law as pedestrians here do to the ordinance against jaywalking. (A capital offense in Los Angeles.) There are more than 11,000 eating and drinking establishments in Manhattan alone, making for a great many potential law breakers. The fact is we need that many places because so much of the population eats out regularly.

Who is the self-respecting entrepreneur who will extinguish the cigarette of a hard-to-come-by paying customer in the name of some political football disguised as environmental legislation? Not this professional sycophant.