By Ed Lowe

Newsday, August 14, 1986

Because he depends on the telephone, Mister Messenger cannot sit still.Because he depends on the telephone, Mister Messenger cannot move. Sometimes,life is hard in the big city.

History: after Kenneth Silver's Quicksilver Messenger Service went public17 years ago, Silver sold his interest in the business and retired to hishome in Bellmore. "I stayed home for one day," he said, "and my wife, Anne,said to me: `Work, or get out.' The problem is, I can't sit still, andshe knew I would drive her crazy." Silver returned to Manhattan and startedanother messenger service, "Mister Messenger," which now boasts nearly400 clients, 90 to 100 messengers, some bicycles, cars, a van or two andthe coporate loyalty of clients as prestigious as Drexel Burnham and ShearsonLehman Brothers and as diverse as Ms. and Playboy magazines.

The feisty Silver has what might be called something of an attitude,and, while bursts of it can be comedic at times, it also gets him intovarious degrees of trouble. Two and a half years ago, somebody broke afire alarm "bulb" in the Mister Messenger office at 222 East 43rd Street.Silver will tell you that the "bulb" is worth $20; that his landlord billedhim for $3,800 in repairs because of the breakage of one $20 "bulb;" thathe, Silver, righteously refused to pay the $3,800; that the landlord subsequentlytook him to civil court; and, that, most incredibly (and perhaps becauseof political influence, judicial incompetence or . . . sigh . . . worse),the powerful landlord won overthe helpless tenant, forcing him to pay the$3,800 and then fighting successfully to evict him, citing lease violationin Silver's delay inpaying the damages.

If you keep asking questions, however, Silver will answer honestly,and you will learn more about the dispute, by little bits and pieces:forinstance, that the "bulb" serves as the transmitter of the audio alarmpart of the system. When triggered, it thus makes an obnoxious noise designedto attract the attention of the most distracted occupant of a building,so as to inform him or her immediately and unquestionably that the buildingis aflame and life in peril.

"Who can hear the telephone with that kind of noise?" asks Silver, revealinga bit. Silver's office, which has a monthly telephone bill ranging from$1,900 to $2,300 (and few outgoing calls) receives 750 telephone callsa day, and his business depends almost exclusively on telephone contact,as client companies call for messenger service as often as 20 times a day.If the building's security personnel tests the alarm system during thedaytime, as Silver answers that they occasionally do ("When those peopledown in the lobby have nothing better to do," he says), the noise putsa serious crimp in the lifeline of the messenger business.

"You know that the judge wrote that I was `a person unworthy of belief?'" Silver continues, beginning to reveal another bit. "The judge asked meif I broke the bulb, not whether I was responsible for the breaking ofthe bulb, not whether I knew the person who broke the bulb.

No: `Did you break the bulb?' And I said that, no, I didn't break thebulb.

"And when the one bulb breaks . . . " you begin to ask . . .
" . . . Right!" Silver interrupts, "The whole alarm system goes down.Isn't that bright? It's like you go out and rape some woman, and 60 womenbecome pregnant. That's probably not the best comparison to make thesedays, is it?"

"So," you wonder aloud: "somebody broke this alarm bulb, which was makingso much noise that nobody could hear a telephone conversation. As a result,the building's entire fire alarm system went kaput and had to be restored.When the landlord billed the bulb-breaker's company $3,800 for repairs,the company refused to pay $3,800 for one bulb. The landlord sued, won,and the judge ordered you to pay and then ordered you to vacate the building."

" . . . and this morning, this old gentleman comes in, flashes a citymarshal's badge and serves me with a notice that I have 72 hours to getout," says Silver. "I would go in a minute, too. I would be delighted togo. I have the space leased for two weeks, already. But Sunday night, theystarted with the telephone company strike. My phones were already on order,but now, forget it. You can't get anybody to install the lines. Withoutphones, I'm dead. And what happens thismorning, after the marshal? I geta call from a Mr. Woods, at 9:45 this morning, from the telephone companyover at Two World Trade Center. He says, `We have some open bills, here.'I said, `Good. I have an order in to move my phones.' He says, `We can'tdo anything about that. We're on strike.'  I said, `If you're on strike,who's paying you to call me and ask for money. I mean, it's not like thetelephone company needs to meet the payroll, is it?.' "

"Well," you begin to ask. "Do you owe them money?"

"Absolutely," Silver answers, about to reveal another bit. "I normallyowe money to the phone company. I pay only when the lady down at the WorldTrade Center calls me. I'm a rebel when it comes to this. They're not ina hurry to rush my phone orders, and I'm in no hurry to pay..."