URL: http://www.nytimes.com
SUBJECT: PHYSICAL EDUCATION (90%); FOOTWEAR (90%); ENTREPRENEURSHIP (90%); ECONOMIC NEWS (87%); PRODUCT DEVELOPMENT (78%); EMERGING MARKETS (74%); ARMED FORCES (74%); MOUNTAINS (72%); ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT (72%); VENTURE CAPITAL (70%); BASKETBALL (75%) Terms not available from NYTimes
COMPANY: CNINSURE INC (65%)
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GEOGRAPHIC: RUSSIA (98%); INDIA (79%); GERMANY (79%); BRAZIL (79%); CHINA (79%); SOUTH AMERICA (79%)
LOAD-DATE: March 17, 2007
LANGUAGE: ENGLISH
GRAPHIC: Photos: Marat D. Garipov's boots have tanks that hold a third of a cup of gasoline each, meaning the boots get about 70 miles per gallon. (Photographs by Joseph Sywenkyj for The New York Times)(pg. C1)
The original boot conceived by Viktor K. Gordeyev is at Ufa State Aviation Technical University.
''The worst situation,'' according to Marat D. Garipov, ''is when the spark fires as the runner just lands, and the force of the blast is absorbed by his body.'' With two powerful engines at work, balancing is difficult.
Marat D. Garipov, an assistant professor of engineering, demonstrates the boots by flicking an ignition switch. Before running down a corridor, he jumped in place a few times to warm up the engine. He then ran laps for about 10 minutes, going about 12 miles per hour, with the two-stroke boots emitting small puffs of exhaust. A test runner once topped out at 21.7 miles per hour, despite the risk of being sent off-balance. (Photographs by Joseph Sywenkyj for The New York Times)(pg. C9)
PUBLICATION-TYPE: Newspaper
Copyright 2007 The New York Times Company
1014 of 1258 DOCUMENTS
The New York Times
March 17, 2007 Saturday
Late Edition - Final
Awaiting A Compromise On YouTube
BYLINE: By JOE NOCERA
SECTION: Section C; Column 1; Business/Financial Desk; TALKING BUSINESS; Pg. 1
LENGTH: 1681 words
''Viacom is so ticked off at YouTube,'' my son Nick informed me not long ago. ''It's just so obvious.''
Nick, who is a senior in high school, knew this not because he reads the business pages; like most 17-year olds, he doesn't. He knew it because he is a YouTube fanatic, and has a keen understanding of the rhythms of the online video site. For months, he had been able to watch clips of ''The Daily Show With Jon Stewart'' or ''The Colbert Report'' on YouTube -- shows that were produced by Viacom's Comedy Central channel.
Suddenly, though, he couldn't get access to them. They had disappeared from YouTube, as had most of Viacom's other copyrighted fare, like ''SpongeBob SquarePants'' and ''South Park.'' Clearly, something was up. Viacom was, indeed, upset with YouTube.
So upset that this week Viacom filed a $1 billion copyright infringement suit against YouTube and its parent, the mighty Google, which last year bought the tiny start-up for a jaw-dropping $1.65 billion. At that point, YouTube was a fledgling company with no profits and negligible revenue. But it had already become the site for posting -- and watching -- short user-generated digital videos. Most of the videos on YouTube really are generated by users -- there are lots of spoofs and home videos and the like on the site. But there are also plenty of users who are ''generating'' content by slapping up shows, or portions or shows, that are owned by the big media companies like Viacom. Shows like, well, ''The Daily Show With Jon Stewart'' and ''The Colbert Report.''
At first glance, the Viacom lawsuit may seem like a carbon copy of the music industry's fight against Napster in the late 1990s. Old-line industry sees new threat from the Internet and tries to sue it into oblivion. But it's not. In that earlier case, the music industry won the battle only to lose the war. Although the courts decisively ruled that Napster was infringing copyrights owned by the big music companies, that decision didn't exactly eliminate the practice of stealing copyrighted music from the Internet. All it meant, in practical terms, was that youths had to find other, more shadowy sites to use to download music. Pandora's box having been opened, it couldn't be shut again.
The Viacom suit is about something a good deal more complicated. Just as getting music from the Internet is here to stay, so is downloading videos. All the big media companies understand that. They all realize that the Internet has created potential new methods for distributing their shows -- and that creates both great possibilities and great pitfalls. They all fully understand that they are not going to be able to litigate YouTube off the face of the earth.
The fact that Google owns YouTube gives the small company leverage Napster never had.
So the big media companies are all grappling with how to deal with YouTube. Ultimately, they all want money for their content, no matter how it is distributed or by whom.
Some companies, like CBS, have decided that honey catches more flies than vinegar. Its approach has been to play nice with YouTube, and do small deals in the hopes that it can eventually work out something big. (It is putting March Madness on YouTube, for instance, in a deal sponsored by Pontiac.) Others, like Time Warner, while deeply annoyed with YouTube, are continuing to negotiate. The company's patience is wearing thin, however.
But Viacom has decided that the only way to deal with Google and YouTube is to sue. In talking about its suit, Viacom officials use phrases like the sanctity of copyright, and they speak harshly about what they see as Google's and YouTube's willful misuse of their property. But really, their goal isn't all that different from CBS and Time Warner. Viacom wants money for its content. The only real question is whether this suit will get it for them.
''Google respects copyright,'' insisted Eric Schmidt, the chief executive of Google. In fact, he told me a few days after the suit was filed, ''we need copyright to be effective because we don't make our own content.'' In Mr. Schmidt's opinion, even though YouTube doesn't prevent users from posting copyrighted material on the site, that doesn't mean the company is ignoring the law. On the contrary. ''We are governed by a law called the D.M.C.A., and we are in compliance with that,'' he said.
One of Mr. Schmidt's great qualities is that he always sounds like the voice of sweet reason. You come away from an interview with him wondering how anyone could possible think that ''Do No Evil'' Google could be less than fully engaged in protecting the copyrights of others. As Mr. Schmidt points out, the Viacom suit came ''in the context of a business negotiation'' in which the two companies were trying to work out a deal. From Google's point of view, the lawsuit is little more than effort to gain some increased leverage in the negotiations. And it most certainly is that.
But when you look at it a little more closely, you realize that it is also about those initials Mr. Schmidt used a few paragraphs ago. D.M.C.A. stands for the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, a 1998 law that governs how Internet companies are supposed to handle copyrighted material. At its core, the lawsuit is about whether the D.M.C.A. should favor Google's approach to copyrighted material, or Viacom's.
Paradoxically, the law was originally intended to help the big media companies, which, in the wake of Napster, were terrified that they were losing their ability to control their copyrighted material. But it also had an important sop to Internet service providers: it said that they shouldn't be held responsible if people used their service to post copyrighted content. What they had to do, however, was promise to remove such content immediately when a copyright holder complained.
This is what Mr. Schmidt means when he says that YouTube is abiding by the law. YouTube doesn't police its site because its doesn't have to, under its interpretation of the D.M.C.A. But whenever a copyright holder complains, it removes the offending material. The reason you don't see much Jon Stewart on YouTube anymore is that Viacom has been complaining -- a lot.
But from Viacom's point of view, it is ridiculous that it should bear the onus of finding the offending material and asking YouTube to remove it. ''To say that the D.M.C.A. protects a company like YouTube when they systematically show copyrighted material is an extremely twisted interpretation,'' said Philippe P. Dauman, Viacom's chief executive. According to Viacom, YouTube has allowed tens of thousands -- nay, well over 100,000 -- of its copyrighted clips to be posted on the site. The company claims it is spending more than $100,000 a month hunting them down and asking that they be removed. Can this really be the intention of the law?
One provision of the D.M.C.A. is that in order to be held harmless for copyrighted content, an Internet company has to have no knowledge that the content is on the site. Google, of course, says that it has no idea whether material on YouTube is being posted illegally or not. But here's where Viacom goes completely ballistic. Surely, it says, YouTube knows that Viacom's material is on the site -- everyone knows how popular Jon Stewart is to YouTube viewers. ''If you are aware of copyrighted material being put up and you are profiting from it, then you have an affirmative duty to do something about it,'' Mr. Dauman said. He also complained that Google was willing to filter copyrighted content -- but only with companies that cut deals with it.
One of the things you realize when you begin to talk to people who care about copyright law is how fervent they can get. For much of the technorati, Viacom is a dinosaur that doesn't understand the new world -- or the power of YouTube to act as a marketing vehicle for their shows.
''YouTube has become a brilliant promotional platform for video content,'' said Roger McNamee, the technology investor. ''How can it be bad that all the Comedy Central stuff is on there?'' Lawrence Lessig, the law professor at Stanford who specializes in copyright issues, said that YouTube ''allows people to signal what is interesting and what is valuable.'' If Viacom, he went on, ''thought about how to leverage the value instead of trying to stop it, they would be better off.''
But from the Viacom side, the issue is simple: It's their property, and they should get to decide who to give it to and how much to charge for it. ''The law says this is our material,'' said Michael Fricklas, a company lawyer. ''Google is saying, 'We'll take it and then we can have a business discussion.' ''
The problem for both sides is that copyright law is not nearly as black and white as Google and Viacom are making it out to be. It is filled with compromises and ambiguity. People have always been able to use small amounts of copyrighted material without asking permission, for instance. And though both sides insist that the law is on their side, it is impossible to know right now how a judge might ultimately rule.
Which is where the real danger lies for both sides. Victory would be sweet, but losing could be disastrous. If Google wins, YouTube will never have to pay much to anyone for copyrighted content, and companies like Viacom will wind up either handing over their material or continuing to ask that it be removed -- again and again and again. Smaller companies -- not to mention the artists themselves -- will probably have less control over their own work. If Viacom wins, YouTube will no longer be able to allow copyrighted content to be posted -- which will surely hurt its business prospects. And it will make it more dangerous for any Internet site to use copyrighted material -- even when it is legal to do so.
That's why, as adamant as they sound now, it is highly likely that Google and Viacom will figure out a way to settle their dispute -- and in so doing set an example for everyone else trying to figure this out. Sometimes, a little ambiguity isn't such a bad thing.
URL: http://www.nytimes.com
SUBJECT: INTERNET SOCIAL NETWORKING (90%); MOVIES & SOUND RECORDING SECTOR PERFORMANCE (89%); MUSIC INDUSTRY (89%); COPYRIGHT LAW (73%); ENTERTAINMENT & ARTS (89%); INTERNET & WWW (89%); RECORD INDUSTRY (88%); COPYRIGHT (89%); INTERNET AUDIO (87%); RECORD REVENUES (87%); ENTREPRENEURSHIP (77%); INTERNET VIDEO (76%); RECORD PRODUCTION & DISTRIBUTION (74%); INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY LAW (73%); SUITS & CLAIMS (73%); COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT (73%) Terms not available from NYTimes
COMPANY: VIACOM INC (91%); GOOGLE INC (55%)
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INDUSTRY: NAICS515210 CABLE AND OTHER SUBSCRIPTION PROGRAMMING (91%); NAICS512110 MOTION PICTURE AND VIDEO PRODUCTION (91%); SIC7812 MOTION PICTURE & VIDEO TAPE PRODUCTION (91%); SIC4841 CABLE & OTHER PAY TELEVISION SERVICES (91%); NAICS518112 WEB SEARCH PORTALS (55%); SIC8999 SERVICES, NEC (55%); SIC7375 INFORMATION RETRIEVAL SERVICES (55%); NAICS515210 CABLE & OTHER SUBSCRIPTION PROGRAMMING (91%); NAICS512110 MOTION PICTURE & VIDEO PRODUCTION (91%); NAICS519130 INTERNET PUBLISHING & BROADCASTING & WEB SEARCH PORTALS (55%)
PERSON: JON STEWART (84%)
LOAD-DATE: March 17, 2007
LANGUAGE: ENGLISH
GRAPHIC: Photo: Eric Schmidt, Google's chief, says his company ''respects copyright.'' (Photo by Scott Barbour/Getty Images)
PUBLICATION-TYPE: Newspaper
Copyright 2007 The New York Times Company
1015 of 1258 DOCUMENTS
The New York Times
March 16, 2007 Friday
Late Edition - Final
Big Changes At Big Sur
BYLINE: By FINN-OLAF JONES
SECTION: Section F; Column 1; Escapes; Pg. 1
LENGTH: 1708 words
DRIVERS passing through Big Sur on Highway 1 between Los Angeles and San Francisco are inevitably awed by the duel of sea and sky played out against the rugged Santa Lucia Mountains. Indeed, the pristine slopes facing Highway 1, a designated American National Scenic Byway, are some of the most rigidly protected in the country, guarded by a phalanx of agencies that range from the Monterey County Resource Management Agency to the California Coastal Commission.
But turn down one of the dozens of private roads along the coast, and you'll discover teams of builders laying stone walls and installing hot tubs at multimillion-dollar properties, trucks full of building supplies groaning up the steep switchbacks and poles set up on the hillsides with orange plastic netting fluttering between them like Tibetan prayer flags.
There's a mini-construction boom happening in Big Sur, local real estate agents say. And, these days, more than half the homes in the region are owned by part-time residents who live mainly in Los Angeles or around San Francisco Bay.
''For the past six years we've been seeing a lot of fund managers and dot-commers coming in who want to buy a slice of heaven,'' said Robert Carver, an architect whose firm, Carver & Schicketanz, specializes in Big Sur. ''Contractors here have been so busy that folks are importing outside contractors, and builders from as far away as New York.''
Big Sur's epic landscapes, studded with redwood forests, hot springs and misty coves, have attracted metaphysical types for at least three generations. ''It was here in Big Sur I first learned to say Amen!'' the novelist Henry Miller wrote in ''Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch'' after settling here in 1944.
Even so, more than a quarter of the properties along the coastline have changed hands the last decade, said Martha Diehl, a member of Monterey County's planning commission, altering the region's demographics. In 2005, building permit applications submitted to Monterey County were up about 50 percent from five years before.
Perhaps one of the biggest surprises for anyone who has watched how the Hamptons or Palm Beach have developed is the complete lack of large housing or even fencing around the pricey acreage being bought up by wealthy city dwellers seeking second homes. ''You don't move to Big Sur if you want to host a lot of people,'' said Mr. Carver, citing his clients' disinterest in Aspen-size mansions. ''This has always been a place to go to for solitude.''
Peter Mullin agrees. ''I read, I hike, I sit in the hot tub and watch nature in all its glory,'' said Mr. Mullin, a Los Angeles-based entrepreneur who has spent the last decade converting a 30-year-old cabin into a magnificent, yet understated, weekend home.
Clinging to a rock shelf suspended between the waves and Highway 1, Mr. Mullin's retreat is an interconnected series of wood pavilions that have Asian touches -- right down to a koi pond that surrounds the front entrance. Despite the spectacular construction, the place has just enough beds for Mr. Mullin and his family.
''The freewheeling hippie feeling of Big Sur has modified,'' he said. ''But the big swells of the sea are raining on you. And you still have to know where your candles are for the power outages. Most newcomers cherish the scenery there, and they try to blend in.''
EVEN so, the change is noticeable. ''My neighbors are a lot different now than when I moved here,'' said Monique Bourin, who has lived in Big Sur for 20 years. ''The flower children and counterculture types who came here in the '60s and '70s without any money were suddenly sitting on top of multimillion-dollar properties, and a lot of them moved. The buy-in for a coastal plot is now around $3 million.''
Ms. Bourin, who was helped by her late husband, has spent the last two decades building a house in an isolated highland valley facing the sea. ''We were hippies who were going to homestead and build our house with our own two hands,'' she said, indicating a pile of lumber outside her front door, awaiting a new project. ''It's been a lot of work, but I'm almost done.''
Her cedar and redwood home rises out of a ravine near Pfeiffer Beach like a vision from the Whole Earth Catalog, complete with stained-glass windows and a well-tended vegetable garden. It has solar power and a water cistern so that it's entirely self-contained, right down to an 1893 wood-burning stove salvaged from the Los Alamos, N.M., train station.
On the hills surrounding her home, sculptural modernistic dwellings that range in value from $2.5 million to $6 million are replacing the simple wooden cabins and modest bungalows that once made up most of the housing here. Orange flagging across the ravine indicates another structure about to be built on a neighboring property.
A gleaming BMW convertible parked on the dirt road in front of Ms. Bourin's homestead gives a hint to the mixed feeling she might have about all the changes going on in Big Sur; she has become a successful local real estate broker. (By the way, if her house were for sale, she said, she'd price it at $3.7 million.)
Given all the newcomers, some fear that Big Sur is becoming another Aspen or Sedona, where the wealthy have bought into the local counterculture lifestyle while indelibly altering it.
''People think of gentrification as something that happens in downtown neighborhoods,'' said Chris Calott, an Albuquerque-based urban planner who has been camping in Big Sur for more than 30 years. ''But now we're seeing it happen on an unprecedented scale in rural areas all over the country. The questions facing Big Sur are the same ones facing the Hamptons, Taos, Marfa and other bucolic destinations that become popular with urban elites. Can a place be considered 'preserved' if the local store now has a fantastic imported cheese section, but you have to drive an hour to buy twine?''
Ms. Diehl, the planning commissioner, who has lived in the area for 20 years, said, ''We don't want a Disney or Colonial Williamsburg Big Sur -- we want to keep it real. The only people who can go through the process are people who can afford it, and that brings social costs.''
Michelle Rizzolo understands the problem well. ''We can't find any place for our employees to live,'' said Ms. Rizzolo, who left the kitchen of the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills to open the funky Big Sur Bakery & Restaurant on a lot she shares with a gas station tucked off a wooded knoll on Highway 1. ''In fact, when we started this place, we all had to sleep on the floor of the bakery.''
Although two of the area's biggest employers, the Post Ranch Inn and the Ventana Inn & Spa, have housing for their employees, on weekday mornings workers from Salinas, an inland city an hour's drive away, are crammed in cars and trucks going south on Highway 1 to their jobs in Big Sur.
While Big Sur is changing, it isn't so easy to tear down an old cabin and build a modern house. The region has some of the country's strictest building laws, officials and contractors say, and new construction tends to be limited to existing building footprints. There are rigid standards regarding water and natural preservation.
''I usually tell clients to count on one, or even two, years between buying the property and putting the first shovel in,'' said Jay Auburn, who procures building permits for Carver & Schicketanz. ''You have to factor in an additional 5 to 10 percent of construction costs just for getting over the regulations.''
Two Carver & Schicketanz clients, Zachary Treadwell, a Los Angeles-based screenwriter, and his wife, Langka, recently built a 1,500-square-foot sod-roofed retreat half-buried in a windy hillside 600 feet above the Pacific and only accessible by a steep and winding private road in the narrow canyon that leads to Pfeiffer Beach. The road was only blacktopped last December. Ms. Bourin, the real estate agent, estimated that the Treadwell property would go on the market at $6 million.
As is typical with most new construction in Big Sur, not even a fence delineates where the Treadwells' land ends and public space begins. The home, a glass-and-rock cube with a stone-lined in-ground hot tub, appears Zen-like in its simplicity. Yet the effort involved in the logistics and regulatory hurdles the Treadwells had to overcome seems akin to the building of the Pyramids. Even choosing the grass for the roof was complicated.
''Some of the oak grass is considered endangered,'' said Fred Ballarini, one of the naturalists hired to help shepherd the Treadwells through some 18 different presentations to the Monterey County Resource Management Agency. ''We were required to replant three times the amount of the grass that was affected by the construction nearby.''
The biggest hurdle for getting a building permit is keeping new construction invisible from Highway 1 and other areas of public access. ''General rule of thumb is if you can see it, you can't build it,'' said Dale Ellis, director of the management agency. Hence the rise of flagging scaffolds that outline proposed construction throughout Big Sur's back roads -- erected so regulators can determine the visual impact of new construction.
FOR the Treadwells, the effort has paid off. During a recent visit, coyotes and a wildcat scurried along the patio while midway to the vast horizon a line of migrating gray whales spouted like sea locomotives.
When the sun set, the glass house seemed suspended by invisible threads between the starry sky and the pounding surf below. Highway 1 and any other sign of civilization were hidden behind the hills that had merged into the night. Despite the sweeping view of the California coast, one could be the last person on earth. ''All that matters is that the miraculous becomes the norm,'' Henry Miller wrote -- and every weekend, that possibility exists for the Treadwells and other denizens of Big Sur.
''It was a major thing, getting all the permits,'' Ms. Treadwell said as her three small children played outside in the steaming hot tub. ''But we knew that when we got into this, and we're fine with it. Even with all the building going on, we think the magic of this place is going to be preserved.''
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