What is Trees?
It’s a project to seed friendships, powered by the people-matching recipe discovered by my journalist dad. He used it to assemble invitation lists for the 2,546 Saturday dim sum brunches he hosted between 1966 and 2015.
Royal Seafood in New York's Manhattan Chinatown. Dad's favorite brunch venue during the 90s.
I bring people together through gatherings, ranging from neighborhood lunches...
Susan and Suzanne, two first-time novelists, enjoying a gourmet hot dog lunch at Biker Jim's in Denver.
...to private-chef-equipped, multi-day destination retreats...
Katie, a set designer, and Eugene, a comedian and actor; knight in tarnished armor and peggy, a bookseller; vegetarian pigs; and chef Cali during a 20-person, 3-day retreat to discuss strategies around passion projects, at Temple Guiting Manor in the English Cotswolds.
...to topic-focused audio chats.
Joel Newton, Jonathan Bernstein, and Paul Carlon , three artists fascinated by the philosophical aspects of creativity, tackling two questions: 'What makes something elegant?' and 'Is it important to you to make things that are elegant?'
Does it cost anything to participate?
If a gathering has costs — a restaurant bill or museum exhibit tickets, for example — the attendees cover them. Otherwise, participation is free.
What is your dad's people-matching recipe?
"Step 1: restrict the overall list to whip-smart, self-aware, non-performative people. Step 2: figure out which ones share a fourth common bond."
In Central Park, near his Upper West Side New York City apartment, 2001.
Who are you?
I'm Ted Pearlman.
With my dad, Sy, and his brother, Boris, a radiologist. At Glen Wild Lake, New Jersey, 2004.
I’m married to Allison, an architect. We live in Denver, Colorado, with our ridiculous twelfth-grader, Oscar, and our couch potato Newfoundland dog, Mabel.
Little Oscar and his first Newfoundland, Tatou, were a bit famous on Youtube for entertaining each other.
I have a BA in Music (Cornell University ’90). Until 2012, I worked at technology companies, including Sony and IBM. From 2012 to 2020, I helped a small cadre of technology CEOs find specialists to tackle acute challenges.
One of my clients, CEO Phil Caravaggio, collaborating with Rodrigo Corral on the book design for Ray Dalio's New York Times bestseller, 'Principles.'
Why do you call this Trees?
Eleven-year-old me called dad's brunch attendees 'trees' (long, silly story). Over the years, it became my code word for whip-smart, self-aware, non-performative people.
Phyllis Meras, one of the first trees I ever met.
What are trees like?
A few years back, I asked four trees to each tell an 'If not for...' story about the people who helped make them who the are. They are very revealing about the four storytellers.
(The first three stories are long. The fourth is short.)
Author, photographer, and symphonic clarinetist Arlene Alda.
Recorded at her and her husband Alan's NYC apartment.
Artist, illustrator, author, and New Yorker cover maker Christoph Niemann.
Recorded at his studio in Berlin.
Host of the Slate Political Gabfest and CEO of CityCast David Plotz.
Recorded at his home in Washington, D.C.
CBC producer & presenter, media consultant, and photographer Robert Ouimet.
Recorded at his studio in Vancouver.
Does Trees have a social media component?
No. We only organize gatherings, each with a beginning and an end. All gatherings — unless otherwise clearly specified in a gathering's invitation — are off the record.
Are you a tree?
No. Not smart enough.
Who created the illustration at the top of the page, under the logo?
The crazy-talented Howell Golson.
Can you tell me more about your dad?
See the section below.
On his shoulders in Berlin's Grunewald, 1969.
Dad and his dad, Ted, had the same sense of humor. During the weekend and after school, working together in the family’s Brooklyn candy store, dad and Ted spent much of the time trying to make each other laugh. In the evening, they’d listen to radio comedy variety shows like Texaco Star Theater.
Washington, 1961.
When dad was 14, Ted died of leukemia.
Instead of turning inward or rebelling, dad became doubly obsessed with making other people laugh. He started writing skits with his high school friends, modeled on the ones he heard on the radio.
Samuel J. Tilden High School, Brooklyn.
In 1949, a year after high school, dad’s favorite comedian, Sid Caesar, got his first television show, the Admiral Broadway Review. By the time the first episode ended, dad had figured out what he wanted to do with his life. He was going to be a television comedy writer.
The next day, while working alongside his mom at the store, dad announced his plan —
“I’m going to be a comedy writer for Sid Caesar’s Admiral Broadway Review.”
She was not amused.
Anna, dad’s mom. Date and circumstances unknown.
Dad, however, was dead serious. He began to practice by writing stand-up bits during the week and heading to the Catskills on the weekends (four hours each way, via subway, bus, and hitchhike) to hawk them to Borscht Belt comedians.
Fort Lee High School, near the New Jersey side of the George Washington Bridge. Dad hitched rides to the Catskills from the sidewalk out front. Weirdly, I ended up graduating from there in 1986.
He was well on his way to a career as a television comedy writer. But the Korean War and the draft derailed him. Dad wanted to avoid combat at all costs, so he put his aspirations on hold and enlisted. With a plan.
Having grown up in the rough, ethnically divided neighborhoods of post-depression Brooklyn, and being the man of the house from age 14, he was exceptionally street smart. He’d learned to quickly assess people and their motivations, avoid pickpockets, trade favors, and talk himself out of any pickle.
Looking south over the Upper West Side of Manhattan, 1951.
He was also conversant in Russian, which his parents had spoken at home when he was small.
All of this gave dad the idea to apply to the US Army Language School (now called the Defense Language Institute) in Monterey, California. This, he schemed, would enable him to finally become fluent in Russian, meet cute girls on the beach, and groom himself for a commission as an Army intelligence officer in charge of recruiting and handling Soviet spies. A safe 4000+ miles from armed combat.
13 years later, after his stint in the Army, a masters degree in Russian studies from NYU, another in journalism from Columbia, and a bunch of positions at small city papers, he landed his dream job as an editor for The New York Times.
New York Times building, 1909.
Right after he got to The Times, however, an old friend from his days inside the Borscht Belt landed a job as a writer for Get Smart, a TV comedy about a bumbling secret agent.
Created by Buck Henry and Mel Brooks, who was arguably Sid Caesar’s most important writer.
It seemed like some kind of omen to dad, and, for a few weeks, he contemplated sacrificing his career as a journalist to follow his friend out to Hollywood. But my mom, a dyed-in-the-wool eastcoaster, understandably didn’t want to move to California.
Funny enough, dad did eventually become a bonafide TV comedy writer (while still somehow remaining a serious journalist) when Reuven Frank, the President of NBC News, recruited him to join Weekend.
It was the first sardonic, long-form news show on network television, running once a month, in Saturday Night Live’s time slot, when SNL was taking the week off.
An article about the show (and dad) from TV Guide.
Below is an excerpt from an episode. Dad co-wrote the script. Still great (including the advertisements), despite the pops, clicks, and jitters.
