By giving moral and legal sanction to noisemaking, we have made outcasts of those who suffer from noise. They are made to be ashamed of their suffering, as if it indicated some flaw in their character, a desire to stop civilization's progress. They feel constrained not to convey to their family or friends how they feel. Many choose to suffer silently, rather than chance ridicule.
Among the hundreds of letters CQC received after my appearance on the Johnny Carson Tonight Show was one from an elderly woman who found relief in writing to an organization that understood what she was going through. All her life, she wrote, she not only suffered from noise, but had to hold back her complaints.
CQC's first office was a sublet in the Theatre Guild building. A public relations man wandered into the place one day by accident. Instead of excusing himself and departing, his eyes fastened on our name plate. Cool and poised, this Madison Avenue huckster started asking questions about our operation. Suddenly he plunged from his poised demeanor into an agonizing description of his own noise problem.
"They've just opened up the second bar within earshot of my apartment. These two spots have become the 'in' spots with the sports car crowd. I can't sleep. And now the building across the street has just installed a giant air conditioning unit on the roof opposite my window. That constant roaring is driving me bugs—" And then he stopped as suddenly as he had started, visibly embarrassed. "My God, I'm not a complainer. I didn't mean to complain. I must sound like a kook."