One Sunday afternoon last March I was riding the L, dunking my work-covered problems in a cup of coffee when another sad sack interrupted me. “Excuse me ladies and gentlemen—my apologies for disturbing you on this lovely day in New York City—I’m in search of some serious help. I need $197, 371, 500.18—and not a penny more—to once again regain my status as a billionaire.” What? He wore a suit with snake-skin shoes and grasped the metallic railing as he passed through the car. “I, like a lot of money-hungry white people, have made some really poor financial decisions.” Cue laughter. Cue jeering. The manicured beggar continued on, soliciting contributions he promised to repay once he got “back on his feet and into some comfortable Salvatore Ferragamo shoes.” Of course I gave him a dollar along with—just as he asked—my email address, which I scribbled on scrap paper.

This spoof was a serious pick-me-up for most on that train-car and it actually made me consider—if only for a second—the plight of insanely rich people who lost big (squandering a fifth of a person’s wealth is a jolt—I know how I feel after I lost $60 and my wallet just last Friday). Like the rest of us, the uber-rich have to make due with a noticeably reigned-in lifestyle and some quantifiable losses in self-worth—but to multiply my strife by 50,000? Yeesh.

Shortly thereafter I got an email from a guy called Jai Catalano, who said he’s a dancer, actor, and ESPN Salsa commentator whose mission is to make people laugh. That day he said he was given $3.36 which he donated (and then some) to World Vision—although he did offer me my dollar back. Oh, he added, he’d just slapped the video on Youtube:

When I recently got around to contacting the 37 year old New Yorker, I suggested he give the monologue another go along the 4, 5, or 6 in the Bronx so we could juxtapose reactions there with those of the more sedate L. While he said he was down, he later reneged on it, saying it’d been too long since he visited the monologue and that his wife will be giving birth to their first-born in, like, a week. Fair enough. I nonetheless talked him into wearing his suit at noontime in Union Square in 90-degree heat to mimic the pose of JR, our beggar from a couple months ago. He said he was getting sweaty as balls, but he soldiered right through it.

Street Carnage: So is your name pronounced Jay or Hey-i?

Jai Catalano: It’s Jay. It’s actually Hindi for victory.

That’s a much better name than Nike. I understand you’re Sicilian, but your last name says otherwise.

Well, we have an ancestor who was from Catalonia who moved to Italy. There he was known as the Catalonian.

Moving right along. Why the Billionaire Beggar?

Well, I was born and raised in New York, and I ride the trains a lot, and I see a lot of people ask for money. Most of them are not too convincing because most of them are asking for an unspecific reason. But every so often you get someone who comes on the train and says something profound. I’m going to give you an example: I’m on the train, and a guy comes on and he’s asking for money, but he’s rapping. He’s telling everybody to have a nice day, and that it’s not that bad in this world, even though we have issues. I remember sitting there listening to him and I thought, he’s put all this time and energy into what he’s saying, I’m going to give him some money, because he earned it. Lo and behold, I realized I wanted to get on the train and ask for money. Because we’re in an economic situation where there’s so many people complaining they no longer have a house in the Hamptons, I figured I’d play one of them. Imagine the devastation you would have if you were a billionaire who went back down to just being a millionaire. My objective wasn’t to make fun, but to point out we have a serious situation here. A lot of rich people were really devastated. Isn’t that the most ironic thing that the rich were suffering and not the poor?

Well, the poor are definitely hurting, too. Personally, though, I hadn’t thought to give a shit about the plight of the insanely wealthy until you did your skit.

Some people actually believed I was a millionaire who had once been a billionaire, which I found really, really funny. Other people got the joke. I had a couple people who were very generous. I ended up making $3.36 that day.

That’s not very good.

I was only there for two hours, so you think for two hours work I didn’t make a lot of money. I found it curious I made money at all.

The Rasta guy sitting across from me gave you a standing ovation.

Right, right. I did get a couple people who clapped for me. I had the Jamaican guy, which I thought was classic, because here you have a white guy in a suit asking to be a billionaire, and then you’ve got a Jamaican guy in the full-on garb with the hat and the dreads and the accent who applauds me and whispers something in my ear. He was my favorite because he was so in the moment and he appreciated what I did. That was a little affirmation for me. I felt like once that happened, I was accepted.

Because he was black?

Hell yeah. Plus his energy was genius. What’s better than a Jamaican man clapping for a white guy wearing a business suit begging to become a billionaire? Please tell me because I can’t figure it out. Imagine if some preppy white guy clapped. The audience would have yawned. A Latin woman screamed out that the whole thing is a scam, but my guy never got her on camera.

What other reactions did you get?

There were two girls who made the clip who were mouthing things to each other, like, “Is he for real?” We’re in New York and you see so many crazy things. Somebody said, “Look at this idiot in a suit.” And I love that because you’re playing along with me without knowing you’re doing that.

Were there any times when you thought somebody was going to hit you?

In the back of my mind, yeah, I was worried that some crazy guy would come up and say, “Hey! I lost money for real!” I did have four guys on the train with me. I had the guy who was filming, obviously, and I had my brother and one of my best friends. They were my backup in the case I needed something. I had Carlos filming, a big, burly, long-haired Puerto Rican guy. I figured no one is going to say anything to him. But if I take a hit, I take a hit. I told him to film it, because it would have been the reality of it. Somebody did say,“It’s a scam, it’s a scam.” I actually donated the money to World Vision, which did a lot of stuff with Katrina and the tsunami. I did a lot of work with them in the past.

How come Katrina- and tsunami-relief is the go-to way for white people to feign solidarity with poor people who are black and brown?

The truth of the fact is that I am part-black and I was only helping my people. Now I know what you are thinking—blond hair, blue eyes, pink skin. Looks pretty white to me, but I can prove it. I am part-Sicilian and my lips are big. Sicily was attacked by the Moors many moons ago. If you need further proof I can pull down my pants for you.

I’m part-Sicilian myself, so I think I’ll pass. How many times did you do your monologue?

Nine times. I had been working on that monologue for a while. I’ve been on millions of auditions—you can’t make mistakes because people don’t respect that. The very first time I did the routine that day was the toughest one because of the noise and trying to get him over there to hear me. You’ve got the digadigadigadigadiga of the train.

You’ve got the doors closing and opening and people are coming and going.

Right. Originally I wanted to go from First Avenue to Bedford Avenue because I had timed it that I could do my whole monologue uninterrupted under the East River. But it was taking so long to keep going back and forth so I said, fuck it, we’re going straight through. At first I was going to go uptown along the 1, 2, 3 but I love the L because it was more bohemian and people seemed down to earth. The trains were also newer and you have the digital announcement of the next trains.

Did you go all the way down the L-line to Canarsie?

I didn’t go all the way to Canarsiem but I went about nine stops in. The farther out I got I started to see a cultural change, and it started to thin out. Like when you were on there, there were probably ten people.

I think it’s funny when the last of the white people abandon me at Myrtle-Wyckoff. Do you think you’ll ever revive the Billionaire Beggar?

I’ve been busy doing this Youtube channel that has grown nicely. I’ve gotten three little gigs from it. People said I should do the Billionaire Beggar again, but what’s my hook? I’m thinking of doing another thing on the train, but it will be Salsa-related. You know, I teach Salsa classes and I have people who are semi-professional who are getting really good. They would come on. I want to get different ethnicities. There are some Japanese people I know. Some Latin people, black people, white people. I want people to wear different kinds of clothes and just sit there like normal. Then a Latin group comes on and starts busking, and suddenly everyone gets up and starts dancing with each other.

That’s the most beautiful ethnic rainbow I can imagine. Everyone joining hands despite questions of race, gender, sexual-orientation or class. It would be like the eighth-grade dance at a school for the blind.

Who cares about an ethnic rainbow? I ain’t doing this to get everyone together to sing “Kumbaya.” I need money and I want to get on Oprah.

What did you think about my suggestion to do the Billionaire Beggar along the 4, 5, or 6 in the Bronx, assuming that’s where we’d get the strongest reactions. That’s racist, huh?

No. I found it was the people who weren’t Caucasian that were more responsive to me. I find that Latinos and black people tend to be more expressive that way, like the Jamaican guy. White people, they see me in a suit and tie and they say, you know, I’ve got my own issues. I don’t need to listen to you.

Does this mean I’m actually black because I’m part-Sicilian like you and you made me laugh uproariously?

Yes. That would mean you are black.

I’ve been waiting to give you a pound and call you God this entire interview.

[Exchanging a divine hand-clasp] Word is bond.

-PETER MADSEN

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