The Journal News from White Plains, New York • Page 61

i 11 1 i 1 1 1 i rr i 1 1 i r.i,, '4i 1 1 rrr tiiiiiiiii t.t To astound your friends these days, import your own freshly smoked salmon from Nova Scotia. While in the world of sports, nothing carries more hefty status than something to do with the king of sports: horseracing. You're nobody till OU 00J03lttu TO i I in ustrations from 'The Status Book' by Nicky Zann By JOHN DALMAS Staff Writer "What good is status if nobody knows you have it?" asks Gary Blake in a new book he has written for people who want status and, furthermore, want to flaunt it. Entitled "The Status Book" (Doubleday Blake's rather tongue-in-cheek assay into how to acquire status symbols is just the thing for anyone out to impress his neighbor, his co-worker, his boss, or even his Aunt Jane with how important he is. Short of getting a Ph.D.

(so people can call you doctor), there are a number of ways to achieve status if you don't already have it, says Blake, and he explains enough of them so that even the most unfortunate Nowhere Man can find cold, hard cachet if he wants it. Blake's book reveals the "secrets" of all those hard-to-find-out-about credentials you thought could never be yours. It tells whom to call, write or charm; what forms to fill out, where to be, when to be there, and whom to know. BREAKING DOWN his status symbols into eight categories, including "miscellaneous," Blake details how to achieve recognition in such diverse areas as art, entertainment, sports and business. He also lists clubs and associations you can join that are certain to add shine to your image.

And if that isn't enough, he describes a number of readily obtainable honors and distinctions (although some of them might be considered dubious), that are guaranteed to make your friends and acquaintances eager to tell everyone they know you. For example, among the "miscellaneous" ways to achieve status especially among your Catholic friends Blake suggests having an audience with the Pope. Don't count on bumping into him while strolling through the Sistine Chapel, he cautions. On the other hand, if you just want to wave and say "Hi," Blake suggests standing outside the Vatican on a Sunday morning with the rosary vendors at which time the Pope sometimes appears at one of those tiny, little windows three-quarters of the way up the wall. If the Pope doesn't notice you, don't put two fingers in your mouth and whistle.

In Italy, that's like booing. If you do wangle a few moments with the Pope, Blake advises that you not say any of those clever things you usually say after you say hello, and above all avoid mentioning your friend's recent abortion. Another way to astound your friends these days, Blake says, is to import your own freshly-smoked salmon from Nova Scotia. If your friends are Jewish, don't expect them to be too terribly impressed. It may look like lox but it ain't (it's saltier and has a maple-syrupy taste).

But you might mention you get your smoked salmon from the same place as Queen Elizabeth II (a barely noticeable town named Tangier 60 miles east of Halifax). WHEN YOU mention "briars" to your friends, they will probably say they love the vanilla fudge. But you can tell them you were referring to your own private blend of pipe tobacco registered at Alfred Dunhill of London. For the price of the tobacco, Blake says you even get your name on the can, plus the number of your blend in Dunhill's register. If your number is something like 66666, you can always mention it has slightly more "peri-que," "Latakia" or "Sweet Virginia" than your 66665.

If your friends say they recently saw Irving Berlin walking along Fifth Avenue, don't start humming "Easter Parade." Tell them about the song you wrote and had copyrighted. Anyone can copyright a song, says Blake. All it takes is $6 and a form from the Register of Copyrights. It doesn't matter that when played on the piano your song sounds like your cat walking the keyboard. It doesn't matter even that your song never gets recorded.

It is copyrighted. Another solid status boffo, Blake says, is to be the one television viewer in town Nielsen calls to check the ratings. There are only 1,000 such families in the nation, says the author, and once you've gotten yourself picked, you're on the team for life (unless you move). You can also be very hush-hush about the details. Nielsen encourages it, and the secrecy only adds to your lustre.

Besides, you get paid for itAccording to Blake, Nielsen families get an initial $25 in cash, and then $25 a month thereafter. That's a lot of six-packs to go with your boob tube. Moreover, Nielsen fixes your TV free, and will also buy you a new one if your old set wears out. Among the honors you can pick up that indicate you "sure are somebody" is the honorary title of Kentucky Colonel. It's not that difficult to get, says Blake, and you don't even have to be from Kentucky or like mint juleps.

To become one you must be recommended to the governor of Kentucky, but Blake says some governors have been known to hand out titles as if thev were campaign buttons. When you get your certificate, frame it and hang it on the wall. Then when your friends come over you can say things like "finger-lickin' good," and they'll smile respectfully. ONE DISTINCTION you'll love to boast is a listing in Who's Who. Just imagine the awesome-ness of your status when it can be reported around town you're in Who's Who! The distinction is not too-hard to acquire, says Blake, for while many people think there is only one Who's Who, there are actually many such works of that name published around the world.

There is even one in England you can pay to get into. In the United States alone there is a Who's Who in the East, a Who's Who in the West and a Who's Who in the Middle West, all containing many names not in Marquis' "Who's Who in America." There are also Who's Whos in the U.S. limited to specific occupations, students, women and members of certain ethnic groups. So, when you tell people you're in Who's Who, you don't have to say it's Who's Who among Latvian Expatriates. Who's to know? You may not even look Latvian.

If a lot of your friends and acquaintances have Ph.D.s and you don't, you can always earn a Phi Beta Kappa, says Blake. It isn't likely your friends will hang gold letters spelling "doctor" on their belts, so while they twiddle their thumbs or smoke their pipes, you can play with your Phi Beta Kappa gold key chain. It is an elite designation in tiie best sense of the word, for It means that you're smarter than they are, advanced degree or no advanced degree. Furthermore, says Blake, a Phi Beta Kappa key is easy to get now, what with widespread illiteracy in college and the lowering of academic standards. All you have to be is in the top ten percent of the nation's graduat- ing class in any year.

For some new college courses there may be difficulty in evaluating your grades, but that should work to your advantage if your major has been occult studies, communal living or advanced sex education. In the world of finance, Blake says real status belongs to the man or woman who can walk into a bank and borrow $100,000 just like that, and with barely any collateral. To be able to say your bank loaned you "a hundred thou'" is to dazzle your poor hardworking friends beyond belief. Most of them probably don't see half that much money in a year, but you walk out of the bank, your pockets stuffed to the nines. Easy? Yes, says Blake, although he adds it takes about a year to do it and more than a little finagling.

Once you have your "hundred grand," the next step is to buy a seat on the New York Stock Exchange. Status (and money) will just naturally flow in your direction after that. The current price of a seat on the exchange Is about $50,000, says Blake, but that, too, can be financed, he adds. Once you're in, the author says, the rest is easy: just follow Bernard Baruch's advice to "buy low and sell high." IN THE world of sports, nothing carries more hefty status than something to do with the king of sports: horseracing. Blake says the easiest way to get that status is to register your horse and silks with the Jockey Gub.

Your nag may never make the Kentucky Derby, but you can show your friends your silks, the colors and design of which you chose yourself. A framed photograph on the mantel of your horse and a jockey wearing your silks will help, too. Speaking of photographs, Blake says a lot of cachet up front is yours if your picture has been taken by Yousf Karsh, the famous Canadian photographer. It costs about $1,000, but immediately you join the company of the likes of Winston Churchill, Marilyn Monroe, Einstein, Shaw, JFK, Khrushchev and the Pope. That's fairly solid status, and Blake suggests you display the photograph where it will be seen by the greatest num-; ber of people, but not in the center of your living room.

You want people to know you have status, but you don't want them to think you're showy..