As part of its third program at the Joyce Theater, Pilobolus unveiled a work that broke the company’s artistic mold. For “Contradance,” receiving its New York premiere on Monday evening, two former dancers choreographed a production without the assistance of one of Pilobolus’s artistic directors.

Matt Kent and Renée Jaworski (the group’s rehearsal director and artistic associate) tell a story of two misfits who find a connection one soulful night. “Contradance” also features music by Dan Zanes, who leads a family-oriented, Grammy-winning band. While the work doesn’t herald a fresh choreographic voice within the Pilobolus family, the pairing of Mr. Zanes’s music and Liz Prince’s costumes lends a certain dreaminess to the production.

The dance for six — it was created in collaboration with Winston Dynamite Brown, Eriko Jimbo, Jun Kuribayashi, Nile H. Russell, Annika Sheaff and Christopher Whitney, as well as others — focuses on an outcast (Mr. Kuribayashi, who is never too far from his rocking chair) and a demure young woman (Ms. Jimbo). Her friends, who clamp kazoos in their mouths like cigars, try to prevent her from getting too close to the stranger. The couple nevertheless find love: as Mr. Zanes puts it, “two misfits on the endless sea, drifting so easy and free.”

Eventually, the boy-meets-girl routine grows tiresome; often Mr. Kent and Ms. Jaworski don’t have enough material to fill the music. Poised on the rocking chair — which, at one point, becomes something of a boat — the couple sway back and forth. Ms. Jimbo holds a tattered umbrella and suddenly, held aloft by the other dancers, she and Mr. Kuribayashi soar through the night.

In the end, “Contradance” is too naïve for adult consumption. (There’s also something about the dance that resembles a Kindle commercial.)

Far more enthralling is “Gnomen,” a dance for four men choreographed in 1997 by Robby Barnett and Jonathan Wolken, in collaboration with the original dancers. On Monday Mr. Brown, Mr. Kuribayashi, Mr. Russell and Mr. Whitney — as if linked by strands of silk — moved through rigorous, sculptural positions with a startling airiness. The theme of an outsider is present, but here the result has weight.

Pilobolus continues through Aug. 7 at the Joyce Theater, 175 Eighth Avenue, at 19th Street, Chelsea; (212) 242-0800, joyce.org.

HOBOKEN, N.J. — John McCauley, gaunt and scraggly, clutched an electric guitar at Maxwell’s here on Monday night, finger-picking a lone song, “Houston, TX,” by himself. His band, Deer Tick, had spent the past hour digging into roadhouse country and rawboned rock ’n’ roll, with a bluntly effective fervor. This solo interlude seemed like an unscheduled detour, announced on the fly. But it was a clear, vital moment in an unfocused show.

“Houston, TX” comes from “Born on Flag Day” (Partisan), Deer Tick’s winningly ragged 2009 album, and in the original arrangement it’s a lilting shuffle, offered in tribute to the Bakersfield sound. Here, Mr. McCauley made it more desperate, nearly unmoored. His voice — tart, coarse, with a liberal pinch of twang — felt painfully exposed, adding weight to his lyrics about cutting loose from an exhausted love affair.

“There’s nothing left,” he sang, “and I am sure that it’s a sign/That maybe I’m about as good as gone.” The shift from “sure” to “maybe” in those lines felt awkwardly true to the song, and so did a later jolt of self-reproach: “I ain’t gonna talk like a gentleman, no/‘Cause I’m sick of always letting myself down.” Pulling back from the microphone as if repulsed, Mr. McCauley yelped that last word again: “Down! Down!”

Since forming Deer Tick in Providence, R.I., late in 2004, Mr. McCauley has been both its engine and its engineer. Last month brought “The Black Dirt Sessions” (Partisan), another album stocked with his cagey, questioning songs. But Deer Tick, whose current tour will end on Aug. 13 at Webster Hall in Manhattan, seems to be in some kind of flux: this show included just a handful of tunes from the new release, most of them tossed off or hurried through. And the band’s frontman often took a backseat.

He surrendered the wheel mostly to Ian O’Neil, the other guitarist in Deer Tick, and increasingly its other songwriter. “Hope Is Big,” one of Mr. O’Neil’s better songs, took the form of a heaving country waltz. Elsewhere he leaned more toward snarling honky-tonk, as on a stomping cover of Chuck Berry’s “Maybellene.” Mr. O’Neil was merely serviceable as a singer, which at least put him ahead of the band’s Amish-bearded drummer, Dennis Ryan, whose take on Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On” was pure stunt work, a floppy salute to Jack Black.

Stunts can be fine, and Deer Tick delivered a few that worked: a furious romp through ZZ Top’s “Cheap Sunglasses,” for one, and a perfectly smarmy alto saxophone solo by Rob Crowell, the band’s keyboardist, on “Ashamed.” That song had the crowd singing along with its chorus: “And oh, what a crying shame, what a crying shame/What we became.”

It would be wrong and too facile to apply that lamentation to Deer Tick, which has a lot going for it as a band. But with the way things are headed, Mr. McCauley might consider a side project: solo acoustic, perhaps, so he could move along without actually moving on.

Deer Tick will appear on Wednesday at Ottobar in Baltimore, on Thursday at the Rock and Roll Hotel in Washington, and on Friday and Saturday at Floydfest in Floyd, Va.; deertickmusic.com.

Listen. Listen harder. That’s what the British playwright Howard Barker needs you to do during “Gary the Thief” and “Plevna: Meditations on Hatred,” his two short, dense plays produced by the Potomac Theater Project/NYC at Atlantic Stage 2.

Theater is elastic, he reminds us, and proceeds to stretch our definitions of it. Mr. Barker, also a poet, describes his work as a Theater of Catastrophe in which, as it says in the program, “no attempt is made to satisfy any demand for clarity or the deceptive simplicity of a single message.”

Indeed. These two pieces, written as poems and delivered as monologues, come at you in a rush and can be fragmentary and elusive. Don’t be surprised if you miss things. But also don’t be surprised if Mr. Barker’s blunt lyricism lingers in your mind.

“I hate the weak/And whimper in the presence/Of the strong,” says Gary the Thief. A working-class hoodlum, Gary kills a baby, goes to prison (with its “dirty glamour attaching to/Insane and paltry acts”) and is courted by powerful people. At the end — impossibility of spoiler alert — the “cold has riddled his youth/And the ice has quarried his teeth,” but he sets off to be a prophet.

Plot, obviously, doesn’t make “Gary the Thief” run. (Good thing: chunks of it passed me right by.) The poetry — slippery and impressionistic — does, and the play, receiving its world premiere in this production, directed by Richard Romagnoli, is lucky to have the actor Robert Emmet Lunney to deliver it.

Mr. Lunney makes visceral what might have been abstract. He varies the colors of his voice and his accent: he can be prim, even schoolmarmish when he narrates, but as Gary the Thief he has a Cockney swagger and impacted rage. Gary’s stare is ferocious. (Reader, he scared me.)

Mr. Lunney, in a dark suit, performs on a bare black set with only a hint of theatrical artifice: a wry proscenium arch near the back of the stage. It’s all very spare and tasteful — he seems like a pearl nestled in a velvet jewel case — but it creates a respectful hush that tames the play.

Still, Mr. Lunney carries the day, making “Gary” the more dramatically satisfying of the two pieces on this 50-minute program. In “Plevna: Meditations on Hatred,” receiving its New York premiere, Mr. Romagnoli also keeps the stage bare, save for a few chairs. But here he has a conceit, which might be trite if it were more insistent.

For this monologue about war and the nasty things civilians do, the actor, Alex Draper, wears a tux and brandishes a highball glass. He surveys and anatomizes the wreckage of battle as if pointing out the vomit after a drunken party.

Plevna was the site of a siege in 1877 in the Russo-Turkish war. Not that Mr. Barker tells you that and not that he means his play, with its shifting perspectives, to be restricted to one historical event.

Mr. Draper, though, doesn’t have Mr. Lunney’s range, and his slow build to anger seems a bit mechanical. Squint, and he’s just a guy reciting poetry onstage. But that poetry compels. Passages stick: “Who was drowned by the snow/Which rose to the mouth of the sleeping sentry/The thaw will show.”

“Gary the Thief” and “Plevna: Meditations on Hatred” continue through July 31 at Atlantic Stage 2, 330 West 16th Street, Chelsea; (212) 279-4200, ticketcentral.com.

With the possible exception of his invention of the orgasmatron, Woody Allen is not necessarily known as an early adopter of cutting-edge technology. Still, Mr. Allen has taken a bold leap into the 21st century and recorded audiobook editions of the four collections of humorous essays he published from 1971 to 2007, the digital agency ClearMetrics said on Tuesday.

Mr. Allen’s readings of his anthologies “Getting Even,” “Without Feathers,” “Mere Anarchy” and “Side Effects” — including his short story “The Kugelmass Episode” — can be purchased from Audible.com and iTunes; ClearMetrics also said that it had created a Web site for Mr. Allen at woodyallen.com, having wrested the domain name from two Icelandic college students.

From the set of his coming film “Midnight in Paris,” Mr. Allen answered a few questions by e-mail about his digital upgrade and the fate of one of his best-known literary creations.

Q. How were you persuaded to embrace the audiobook format? Do you own or regularly use any of the high-tech gadgets that play these files?

A. I was persuaded in a moment of apathy when I was convinced I had a fatal illness and would not live much longer. I don’t own a computer, have no idea how to work one, don’t own a word processor, and have zero interest in technology. Many people thought it would be a nice idea for me to read my stories, and I gave in.

Q. What was the recording experience like for you? Did you make any new discoveries about these pieces in rereading them? Did it take you back to the frame of mind you were in when you first wrote them?

A. I imagined it would be quite easy for me, and, in fact, it turned out to be monstrously hard. I hated every second of it, regretted that I had agreed to it, and after reading one or two stories each day, found myself exhausted. The discovery I made was that any number of stories are really meant to work, and only work, in the mind’s ear and hearing them out loud diminishes their effectiveness. Some of course hold up amusingly, but it’s no fun hearing a story that’s really meant to be read, which brings me to your next question, and that is that there is no substitute for reading, and there never will be. Hearing something aloud is its own experience, but it’s hard to beat sitting in bed or in a comfortable chair turning the pages of a book, putting it down, and eagerly awaiting the chance to get back to it.

Q. Are you of the opinion that the printed word is dying out? Will your conversion — literally and figuratively — to digital audiobooks lend credence to these depressing forecasts?

A. I can only hope that reading out loud does not contribute to the demise of literature, which I don’t think will ever happen. When I grew up, one could always hear T. S. Eliot, Yeats, S. J. Perelman and a host of others read on the Caedmon label, and it was its own little treat that in no way encroached on the pleasure of reading these people.

Q. Did Kugelmass ever escape from that irregular Spanish verb?

A. As far as Kugelmass goes, he’s being chased by the same obnoxious verbs that still chase me.

GOLDENDALE, Wash. — Here in the high desert east of the Cascades, where towering windmills quietly whir overhead, skaters hurtle downhill along a ribbon of blacktop six at a time wearing helmets and motorcycle leathers, hay bales stacked along switchbacks for the inevitable wipeouts.

But in the garment district in Manhattan, it is a slightly tamer story. One day in the spring, Todd Brunengraber stepped from his office on West 39th Street. Hearing a distinct hum from newly repaved Seventh Avenue, he turned and watched a commuter on a supersize skateboard whiz by.

The board was similar to the type he built in woodshop while growing up, but with big, candy-colored wheels. Soon, Brunengraber, a 62-year-old grandfather who had not set foot on a board in more than 25 years, spent $50 for a lesson and joined a growing legion of longboarders.

This summer, he has been pushing to and from Penn Station, and each night after work cruising a hill on his Bay Shore, N.Y., street.

“It’s a rush to get on it,” he said.

Whether on a hair-raising rural road in the Pacific Northwest or in teeming Midtown traffic, longboards have become the fastest-growing segment in an otherwise sluggish skateboard market. In recent years, they have lured new participants to a pastime traditionally dominated by teenage boys and young men performing perilous stunts.

“There’s a real neo-hippie, everybody-welcome kind of vibe to longboarding,” said Adam Goldstein, 43, who skates with his 10-year-old son around Manhattan.

Goldstein, who directs commercials, says he takes a longboard to commute while working in Los Angeles or Toronto. “You can just go anywhere,” he said.

With decks usually 34 inches or longer; trucks (axles) adapted for easier turning; and big, soft wheels, longboards provide a smoother skating experience than boards designed for performing tricks. Their size and stability make longboards well suited for cruising streets and college campuses. The price of a good longboard starts at about $150.

“There’s no stigma,” said Larry Peterson, who made 2,500 boards in a dairy barn in Salem, Ore., last year under the brand Longboard Larry. “It’s one of the sports where someone who’s 40 can go skate with someone who’s 13 and nobody thinks it’s weird.”

With an inclusive, do-it-yourself ethic, longboarding has grown as a grass-roots movement mostly outside the established skateboard industry and spread from Southern California to places like Brooklyn and Bend, Ore.

Begun in a San Diego backyard in 1993 by a group of surfers, the longboard maker Sector 9 has led the way. In 2008, the surf apparel maker Billabong bought Sector 9. Sector 9 is part of an increasingly crowded market that 10 years ago was not much more than a scattered collection of small entrepreneurs.

While working at a skate shop in the 1990s, Brian Petrie began making longboards from broken snowboards out of his Brooklyn apartment. The result: Earthwing Skateboards. In 2002 a group of friends in Hagerstown, Md., began building longboards for themselves. By 2004, they moved to New York and settled in Brooklyn as Bustin Boards.

Zak Maytum, 19, a champion downhill and slalom skater on his longboard, began a business making wheels and bushings from his parents’ garage in Boulder, Colo., three years ago. Today, his company, Venom, employs two salespeople. “Every year is bigger than the last year,” he said.

A former professional street skater, Marcus Bandy is the team manager for Orangatang, a wheel company in Los Angeles that is popular with longboarders.

“It’s really all new,” Bandy, 37, said about the longboard culture. “It’s like when punk rock or hip-hop first came out. It’s a whole new thing, and the kids are loving it.”

He added: “People are always going to create their own stuff and that’s what’s happening here. These guys are creating skateboarding and reinventing skateboarding.”

PAU, France — In the closing moments of Tuesday’s stage of the Tour de France, just as in the old days when he dominated this race, Lance Armstrong tried to win.

Pierrick Fedrigo celebrated his stage 16 victory of the Tour de France.
He rose from his seat and began to sprint to the finish line, churning the smooth, muscled legs that helped him win seven Tour titles. But this time, unlike so many times in the past, there was no happy ending for Armstrong, the most successful rider in Tour history.

In what Armstrong says will be his final Tour, he was just not good enough.

Armstrong finished sixth on Tuesday in Stage 16, the Frenchman Pierrick Fedrigo outsprinting him to the finish line. Afterward, Armstrong spoke briefly before remounting his bike and riding to his hotel, initially with a police escort — and a grimace.

“It was hard; it’s been a while since I sprinted,” Armstrong said, his face still sweaty and covered with a film of dust. “Just not quick enough.”

Armstrong — who at 38 is one of the oldest Tour riders — had hoped to win a stage as consolation for not winning the whole race.

With four stages left, though, his chances are running out. His best opportunity for a victory was very likely on Tuesday, when he made it into an early breakaway along the 124-mile route, which included four grueling climbs. In the final stages, he will probably not be able to keep up with better climbers, sprinters and time-trial specialists.

Armstrong’s hopes for an overall victory vanished about eight days into this three-week event because of bad luck and crashes.

Several times, he was caught behind riders who had crashed. Twice he fell, including once in Stage 8, when he hit the pavement going about 40 miles per hour. That day, he finished nearly 12 minutes behind the stage winner, an example of how tumultuous this Tour has been for him, on and off the bike.

Earlier this week, Armstrong — who has 25 Tour stage victories — said he did not want other riders to let him win one final time just because they felt sorry for him.

“Back in our heyday, we didn’t give anything away,” he said. “So I don’t want anybody to say, Hey, let’s let the old man have one.”

And no one did. No matter how much power Armstrong once wielded in the peloton, there was no mercy Tuesday.

Fedrigo, the sixth French rider to win a Tour stage this year, saw his fans and family along the route and was motivated to win for them.

“I wasn’t afraid of Armstrong in the sprint,” he said.

The Belgian rider Jurgen Van de Walle, who finished seventh, sensed how much Armstrong had wanted the victory. But at the Tour, every rider wants to win, he said.

“He was a great champion and he has a strong head, and I think he didn’t want to leave the Tour without success,” Van de Walle said. “Even with the bad luck he has had, he still stayed in the Tour to prove something. But there are no gifts in the Tour.”

The overall race leaders were unchanged after the stage. The defending champion, Alberto Contador, is still eight seconds ahead of Luxembourg’s Andy Schleck, who was the Tour runner-up last year. Spain’s Samuel Sánchez is third, two minutes back.

Though Armstrong finished third last year, he lags in 25th place, 33 minutes 46 seconds back. But that is by design, he and his RadioShack team manager, Johan Bruyneel, said.

Once Armstrong’s podium hopes disappeared, he and Bruyneel decided that Armstrong needed to save his energy for a possible stage win. So after plummeting in the standings in the first eight days, Armstrong proceeded to take it relatively easy. He finished way back nearly every day — in 70th, 114th and even 130th.

On some days, Armstrong acted as the Tour’s cruise director, laughing and chatting with fans, and thanking them for coming as he pedaled to the finish line.

“Once you know you’re not going to be the best guy, then I’m going to, like I said in the beginning, sit up and enjoy it,” Armstrong when asked about his deflated effort. “Look around, look at people, listen to people. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m not going to win the Tour.”

Armstrong took some flak for it. In an article in the French sports newspaper L’Equipe last Sunday, a reporter wrote that Armstrong had started the Tour as a professional cyclist, then became a tourist on a bike, then was simply a tourist.

ST. ANDREWS, Scotland — The results of the last two major golf championships — a resounding seven-stroke victory by Louis Oosthuizen of South Africa at the British Open on Sunday and the United States Open win by Graeme McDowell of Northern Ireland a month earlier at Pebble Beach — have had an effect well beyond the borders of their countries.

Graeme McDowell of Northern Ireland won the U.S. Open this year, his first tour win.
They have reverberated in the United States. Last November, based on where the majors were scheduled to be played, 2010 had been expected to provide Tiger Woods with his best chance in a while to win two more major titles. Now with 14, Woods continues his quest to break Jack Nicklaus’s record of 18.

Instead, two somewhat obscure non-American golfers followed Phil Mickelson’s win at the Masters by taking down the best in the world on two of the biggest stages.

The unexpected results have put a spotlight on a trend in major championship golf that started in 2007 with Ángel Cabrera’s first United States Open win and Padraig Harrington’s first British Open victory. Since then, international players have won 9 of the 13 major championships, including three of the past four, dating to Y. E. Yang’s win over Woods in the 2009 P.G.A. Championship.

To grasp the significance of this international run, consider the dominance of American golfers since all four Grand Slam events resumed play in 1946 after a three-year interruption. From then until 1990, when Nick Faldo of England won the Masters and the British Open, and Wayne Grady of Australia won the P.G.A. Championship, Americans won 132 of the 180 major championships — 73 percent.

A five-year slump began in 1990, when golfers from the United States won just 7 of the 20 majors, including an unprecedented international sweep of the Grand Slam events in 1994. From then until 2007, international players had an average of one major victory a year.

Whether this latest resurgence by international golfers can endure until the 2016 Olympics is an open question, but it certainly comes at a good time for those who are working to build international interest in the sport in the prelude to golf’s return to the Games.

A look at the world rankings shows 7 American players in the top 20, 8 in the top 25 and 11 of the top 30. But top-ranked Woods is 34, No. 2-ranked Phil Mickelson is 40, No. 4-ranked Steve Stricker is 43 and No. 5-ranked Jim Furyk is 40. Of the 11 American golfers in the top 30, just three are in their 20s: Anthony Kim is 25, Dustin Johnson is 26 and Hunter Mahan is 28.

The two most promising young players in the world are international stars: Rory McIlroy, 21, of Northern Ireland, and Ryo Ishikawa, an 18-year-old Japanese marvel. Ishikawa, who tied for 23rd at the British Open, shot a round of 58 earlier this year to win on the Japan Tour, the same day McIlroy — who opened at St. Andrews with a record-tying 63 — shot 62 to win at Quail Hollow.

That brings us back to the 27-year-old Oosthuizen, who outshone McIlroy and Ishikawa at St. Andrews. He apparently has come of age after knocking around on the Sunshine Tour in South Africa and the European Tour. The question is, how could a little-known golfer with a lone win on the European Tour deliver such a thorough thrashing to a British Open field that was among the year’s best?

Peter Dawson, the chief executive of the Royal & Ancient Golf Club of St. Andrews, said he thought the victory by Oosthuizen was well earned.

“The margin of victory, his demeanor on the golf course, the quality of his game and the steady progress that he’s been making in the world rankings and in Tour events, I think, very much mark him as a player on the rise,” Dawson said, adding, “I, for one, would not be surprised to see him win again.”

Nor would most who saw him.

But how they perform from now on will determine whether McDowell and Oosthuizen are one-off’s or part of a deep and talented wave of international players.

BEND, Ore. — Four hours from the nearest surf, 4,000 feet above sea level and 4 decades removed from the days when he was known as Mr. Pipeline for deep and daring tube rides at one of the world’s most treacherous wave spots, Gerry Lopez shouldered a board beneath ponderosa pines on his way to the banks of the Deschutes River.

Gerry Lopez with some of the boards he shapes in Bend, Ore.
He might have made his name and reputation along Oahu’s North Shore — and in Hollywood, where he appeared in cult films, including “Conan the Barbarian” with Arnold Schwarzenegger — but Lopez has made another life here in the Cascades the past 15 years.

He lives with his wife, Toni, and son, Alex, in a tidy Craftsman house next to the river, near Mount Bachelor, where snow clings to the peak through summer. He begins most mornings with yoga before driving to a shop in town to shape custom surfboards, a career that began during his heyday in Hawaii. And in spare moments, Lopez, 61, likes to glide along the green river on a stand-up paddleboard — maybe the most mellow surfing experience yet devised, and one that has expanded the sport’s reach to unlikely places and populations.

“There have been a lot of water-paddling sports here already — kayaking, rafting,” said Lopez, who started stand-up paddling a few years ago on lakes near his house. “Stand-up is different than surfing. All you need is water. You don’t need waves.”

You don’t need much experience, either.

“With a minimum of athletic ability, anyone can get on a board and say, ‘Wow, I can do this,’ and start paddling and cover a mile before they know it without a lot of effort,” Lopez said.

Pioneered by Honolulu’s Waikiki beach boys to monitor tourists during surfing lessons, riders stand upright on a long, wide board and use a six-foot paddle to propel themselves. Laird Hamilton, the big-wave surfer, revived interest in stand-up paddling — S.U.P. in industry argot — in Hawaii a decade ago. The trend soon spread to waves around the world. Now adapted to flat water, stand-up paddling has surged inland.

The languid pace of surfing’s latest offshoot suits Lopez. Even during his days as the undisputed leader of Pipeline, he embodied a Zen approach.

“Gerry was very competitive,” said Shaun Tomson, 1977 world champion of surfing and sometime Lopez sparring partner at Pipeline. “But he never displayed any sort of aggression.”

“When I think of Gerry, I always think of someone very calm with water exploding all around him,” Tomson said. “He was always very calm and unperturbed in that deathly situation he was in.”

Lopez last surfed Pipeline in December during an exhibition as part of the Pipeline Masters, an event he won in 1972 and 1973. Although fit and trim, he allows that he has slowed down.

“It’s a whole different deal,” he said. “I’m old now.”

About Pipeline’s famous lineup, Lopez said: “It’s probably the most crowded spot with good, top-level surfers. It’s like that any time it breaks. They really want it badly. I don’t want it that badly.”

He will most likely retire from surfboard shaping in a couple of years. In the meantime, Lopez is riding the new wave of stand-up paddling, which has caught on here along the Deschutes, especially a section that courses beneath a footbridge through the Old Mill District in town. Folks from Lake Tahoe to the Mississippi River, and from the Great Lakes to New Hampshire’s Lake Winnipesaukee, have begun to figure it out, too. All of which has caught the surf industry somewhat off balance.

“I get media inquiries from Midwest outlets asking about S.U.P. because their lakes are starting to see more and more of it,” Mandy Johnson, a spokeswoman for the Surf Industry Manufacturers Association, a leading trade group, wrote in an e-mail message.

The manufacturers association says it does not have sales figures on stand-up paddling because it is so new. But three magazines cover the sport. And Action Sports Retailer, a board sports trade show held in August in San Diego, will host a stand-up demonstration this year — on a lagoon, not the ocean.

Scott Bass, an early stand-up enthusiast in California, founded the Sacred Craft Surfboard Expo, an exhibition for surfboard shapers and manufacturers held in conjunction with the Action Sports Retailer show.

“If you consider stand-up paddleboards as surfboards, they are far and away the best sellers,” he said.

I.B.M. is reshuffling its top management one level below the chief executive, Samuel J. Palmisano, giving greater responsibility to four senior executives.

The move announced Monday, analysts said, creates a short list for succession. But it could also signal that Mr. Palmisano would be staying on beyond the traditional retirement age of 60 for I.B.M. chief executives. Mr. Palmisano turns 59 later this month.

The reorganization came as I.B.M. reported a solid profit gain in the quarter and raised its forecast slightly for 2010. But the company’s stock fell in after-hours trading amid concern about future revenue and how quickly corporate spending on technology was picking up.

The management changes, announced in an e-mail message to I.B.M. employees, were intended to improve the company’s products and services, Mr. Palmisano wrote. For example, computer hardware and software are for the first time being placed under the oversight of one executive.

Increasingly, Mr. Palmisano wrote, computer systems must be “designed and brought to market as tightly integrated” packages of hardware and software.

“The marketplace has changed,” said Bob Djurdjevic, an independent analyst, “and putting hardware and software under a single executive makes a lot of sense.”

Steven A. Mills, a senior vice president, will be in charge of the hardware and software divisions. But Mr. Mills is 58, and not a likely successor, analysts say.

Mark Loughridge, 57, the chief financial officer, is being given a larger role overseeing finance, the company’s financing unit, and internal information technology. But his experience at I.B.M., analysts suggest, has been too limited to make him a likely successor.

Michael E. Daniels, 56, a senior vice president, will be in charge of the entire services business, which had been split until now. Virginia M. Rometty, 52, a senior vice president, will oversee marketing and strategy, as well as sales, which she handles now.

Mr. Daniels and Ms. Rometty, analysts suggest, would be the most likely internal candidates to succeed Mr. Palmisano.

Still, they say, the closeness in age to Mr. Palmisano of the four executives could well mean that he is planning to remain beyond 60, while giving his top lieutenants large roles. Investors have been pleased with the tenure of Mr. Palmisano who, since 2002, has aggressively expanded I.B.M.’s operations abroad, shifted it sharply into higher-margin businesses and increased earnings per share fourfold.

In its earnings report, I.B.M. reported a profit of $2.61 a share, up about 13 percent from the year-earlier quarter. The profit performance surpassed the $2.58 a share consensus estimate of Wall Street analysts, as compiled by Thomson Reuters.

But I.B.M. reported a sluggish revenue increase of 2 percent, to $23.7 billion, below Wall Street’s forecast of just under $24.2 billion. In the year-earlier quarter, I.B.M. reported revenue of slightly less than $23.3 billion.

New contract signings, the seed corn of future revenue in I.B.M.’s huge services business, also came in well below analysts’ expectations, at $12.3 billion. A. M. Sacconaghi, an analyst at Bernstein Research, had forecast signings of $14 billion.

The revenue shortfall and softness in services signings, Mr. Sacconaghi said, raised doubts about the strength of the recovery in corporate technology spending and how much I.B.M. would benefit. “Investors were expecting more,” he said.

In after-hours trading, shares of I.B.M. fell as much as $5.58, or 4.3 percent.

In a conference call with analysts, Mr. Loughridge, the chief financial officer, expressed confidence for the second half of the year, predicting continued strong earnings gains and an “improving revenue picture.”

I.B.M. raised its earnings forecast for the year to “at least $11.25 a share,” up from $11.20 a share.

Analysts are watching whether companies might trim their earnings forecasts, especially given weakness in Europe and an uncertain American economy.

Mr. Loughridge noted that the strong American dollar shaved revenue in the quarter by $500 million. Services signings, especially on long-term contracts, he said, were often uneven quarter by quarter. And an increase in signings by new customers during the quarter, Mr. Loughridge added, should lead to more new business in the future.

Services revenue rose 2 percent, to $13.7 billion. In the software business, where sales rose 2 percent to $5.3 billion, sales of the company’s Websphere Internet-based software rose 17 percent.

In the hardware division, mainframe revenue declined 24 percent, and sales of large computers running the Unix operating system fell 10 percent. But new mainframe and Unix models are being introduced soon, opening the door to a possible rebound in hardware sales.

I.B.M. is a partial barometer of business investment trends, as the largest supplier of information technology to corporations worldwide. Information technology — computer hardware, software and services — accounts for more than half of all private capital investment.

The technology sector has been leading the recovery, and investors were encouraged last week when Intel, the big chip maker, reported that its revenue rose 34 percent in the second quarter.

I.B.M. is less tied to the cyclical swings of the hardware business than many technology companies. The more stable services and software businesses now account for 80 percent of I.B.M.’s revenue, as the company reduced its dependence on hardware in recent years. As a result, I.B.M. suffered less than many high-technology companies in the recession.

I.B.M., analysts note, focuses mainly on double-digit earnings growth and less on rapid revenue growth. “I.B.M. has had an unrelenting focus on expanding its higher-margin businesses in software and services in recent years, and caring less about revenue growth,” said Carl Claunch, an analyst at Gartner Research.

ARLINGTON, Va. — In most newsrooms, the joke would have been obvious.

On Gawker’s “big board,” reporters can check the most-viewed articles, a list updated hourly.
It was April Fools’ Day last year, and Politico’s top two editors sent an e-mail message to their staff advising of a new 5 a.m. start time for all reporters.

“These pre-sunrise hours are often the best time to reach top officials or their aides,” the editors wrote, adding that reporters should try to carve out personal time “if you need it,” in the midafternoon when Internet traffic slows down.

But rather than laugh, more than a few reporters stared at the e-mail message in a panicked state of disbelief.

“There were several people who didn’t think it was a joke. One girl actually cried,” said Anne Schroeder Mullins, who wrote for Politico until May, when she left to start her own public relations firm. “I definitely had people coming up to me asking me if it was true.”

Such is the state of the media business these days: frantic and fatigued. Young journalists who once dreamed of trotting the globe in pursuit of a story are instead shackled to their computers, where they try to eke out a fresh thought or be first to report even the smallest nugget of news — anything that will impress Google algorithms and draw readers their way.

Tracking how many people view articles, and then rewarding — or shaming — writers based on those results has become increasingly common in old and new media newsrooms. The Christian Science Monitor now sends a daily e-mail message to its staff that lists the number of page views for each article on the paper’s Web site that day.

The New York Times, The Washington Post and The Los Angeles Times all display a “most viewed” list on their home pages. Some media outlets, including Bloomberg News and Gawker Media, now pay writers based in part on how many readers click on their articles.

Once only wire-service journalists had their output measured this way. And in a media environment crowded with virtual content farms where no detail is too small to report as long as it was reported there first, Politico stands out for its frenetic pace or, in the euphemism preferred by its editors, “high metabolism.”

The top editors, who rise as early as 4:30 a.m., expect such volume and speed from their reporters because they believe Politico’s very existence depends, in large part, on how quickly it can tell readers something, anything they did not know.

“At a paper, your only real stress point is in the evening when you’re actually sitting there on deadline, trying to file,” said Jim VandeHei, Politico’s executive editor, in an interview from the publication’s offices just across the Potomac River from downtown Washington.

“Now at any point in the day starting at 5 in the morning, there can be that same level of intensity and pressure to get something out.” (Not all reporters are expected to be on their game by dawn, Mr. VandeHei added, noting that many work a traditional 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. newspaper day.)

At Gawker Media’s offices in Manhattan, a flat-screen television mounted on the wall displays the 10 most-viewed articles across all Gawker’s Web sites. The author’s last name, along with the number of page views that hour and over all are prominently shown in real time on the screen, which Gawker has named the “big board.”

“Sometimes one sees writers just standing before it, like early hominids in front of a monolith,” said Nick Denton, Gawker Media’s founder. Mr. Denton said not all writers have warmed to the concept. “But the best exclusives do get rewarded,” he added, noting that bonuses for writers are calculated in part based on page views.

The pace has led to substantial turnover in staff at digital news organizations. Departures at Politico lately have been particularly high, with roughly a dozen reporters leaving in the first half of the year — a big number for a newsroom that has only about 70 reporters and editors. At Gawker, it is not uncommon for editors to stay on the job for just a year.

Physically exhausting assembly-line jobs these are not. But the workloads for many young journalists are heavy enough that signs of strain are evident.

“When my students come back to visit, they carry the exhaustion of a person who’s been working for a decade, not a couple of years,” said Duy Linh Tu, coordinator of the digital media program at the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism. “I worry about burnout.”

In Washington, the news cycle promises to become even more frenzied as outlets like The Huffington Post expand their operations there. The Atlantic Media Company, which publishes the National Journal and The Atlantic, plans to hire 30 new journalists for a new venture set to open this fall that will publish breaking news and analysis online.

At Politico, Mr. VandeHei, who has been known to pace between rows of reporters’ desks asking who has broken news lately, said editors experimented with monitoring how many articles reporters were writing, but decided that raw numbers did not give a full picture of a reporter’s performance.

Ricky Bess spends eight hours a day in front of a computer near Orlando, Fla., viewing some of the worst depravities harbored on the Internet. He has seen photographs of graphic gang killings, animal abuse and twisted forms of pornography. One recent sighting was a photo of two teenage boys gleefully pointing guns at another boy, who is crying.

At Caleris, Stacey Springer, left, vice president for support operations, reviewing images with Marie Wittry.
An Internet content reviewer, Mr. Bess sifts through photographs that people upload to a big social networking site and keeps the illicit material — and there is plenty of it — from being posted. His is an obscure job that is repeated thousands of times over, from office parks in suburban Florida to outsourcing hubs like the Philippines.

With the rise of Web sites built around material submitted by users, screeners have never been in greater demand. Some Internet firms have tried to get by with software that scans photos for, say, a large area of flesh tones, but nothing is a substitute for a discerning human eye.

The surge in Internet screening services has brought a growing awareness that the jobs can have mental health consequences for the reviewers, some of whom are drawn to the low-paying work by the simple prospect of making money while looking at pornography.

“You have 20-year-old kids who get hired to do content review, and who get excited because they think they are going to see adult porn,” said Hemanshu Nigam, the former chief security officer at MySpace. “They have no idea that some of the despicable and illegal images they will see can haunt them for the rest of their lives.”

David Graham, president of Telecommunications On Demand, the company near Orlando where Mr. Bess works, compared the reviewers to “combat veterans, completely desensitized to all kinds of imagery.” The company’s roughly 50 workers view a combined average of 20 million photos a week.

Mr. Bess insists he is still bothered by the offensive material, and acknowledges the need to turn to the cubicle workers around him for support.

“We help each other through any rough spots we have,” said Mr. Bess, 52, who previously worked in the stockrooms at Wal-Mart and Target.

Last month, an industry group established by Congress recommended that the federal government provide financial incentives for companies to “address the psychological impact on employees of exposure to these disturbing images.”

Mr. Nigam, co-chairman of the group, the Online Safety and Technology Working Group, said global outsourcing firms that moderate content for many large Internet companies do not offer therapeutic care to their workers. The group’s recommendations have been submitted to the National Telecommunications and Information Administration, which advises the White House on digital policy.

Workers at Telecommunications On Demand, who make $8 to $12 an hour, view photos that have been stripped of information about the users who posted them. Rapidly cycling through pages of 300 images each, they are asked to flag material that is obviously pornographic or violent, illegal in a certain country or deemed inappropriate by a specific Web site.

Caleris, an outsourcing company based in West Des Moines, Iowa, says it reviews about 4.5 million images a day. Stacey Springer, its vice president for support operations, says the job is not for everybody and that “people find they can do it, but it is usually a lot harder than they thought.” The company offers counseling as part of its standard benefits package for workers.

Ms. Springer says she believes that content moderators tend to become desensitized to the imagery, making it easier to cope. But she is called on to review the worst material, like sexual images involving children, and says that she finds some of it “hard to walk away from.”

“I do sometimes take it really personally,” she said of the pictures she reviews. “I remind myself, somebody has to do it.”

A common strategy at Web sites is to have users flag questionable content, then hand off material that needs further human review to outsourcing companies that can do so at low cost.

Global outsourcing firms like Infosys Technologies, based in Bangalore, India, and Sykes Enterprises, based in Tampa, Fla., have leapt to offer such services.

Internet companies are reluctant to discuss the particulars of content moderation, since they would rather not draw attention to the unpleasantness that their sites can attract. But people in the outsourcing industry say tech giants like Microsoft, Yahoo and MySpace, a division of the News Corporation, all outsource some amount of content review.

YouTube, a division of Google, is an exception. If a user indicates a video is inappropriate, software scans the image looking for warning signs of clips that are breaking the site’s rules or the law. Flagged videos are then sent for manual review by YouTube-employed content moderators who, because of the nature of the work, are given only yearlong contracts and access to counseling services, according to Victoria Grand, a YouTube spokeswoman.

For its part, Facebook, the dominant social network with more than 500 million members around the world, has relied on its users to flag things like pornography or harassing messages. That material is reviewed by Facebook employees in Palo Alto, Calif., and in Dublin.

Simon Axten, a Facebook spokesman, said the company had tried outsourcing the manual review of photos but had not done so widely.

Outsourcing companies are also reluctant to discuss the business on the record, since their clients demand confidentiality. One executive at a global outsourcing firm, who did not want to be named, said that large Internet firms “are paying millions a year to do this kind of thing and essentially provide some type of control over the beast that is the Internet, which for the most part is uncontrollable.”

“If they don’t do it, their commercial interests will completely die,” he added.

One major outsourcing firm with staff in the Philippines was aware of the risks of this type of work and hired a local psychologist to assess how it was affecting its 500 content moderators. The psychologist, Patricia M. Laperal of Behavioral Dynamics, said she had developed a screening test so the company could evaluate potential employees, and helped its supervisors identify signals that the work was taking a toll on employees.

Ms. Laperal also reached some unsettling conclusions in her interviews with content moderators. She said they were likely to become depressed or angry, have trouble forming relationships and suffer from decreased sexual appetites. Small percentages said they had reacted to unpleasant images by vomiting or crying.

“The images interfere with their thinking processes. It messes up the way you react to your partner,” Ms. Laperal said. “If you work with garbage, you will get dirty.”

Carlos Conde contributed reporting.

ATHENS — In 2009, bankers for Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley pitched the Greek government on a plan to overhaul its money-losing railway system. Among the ideas was to lay off half of the system’s 7,000 workers and have the government take on roughly half of the company’s 8 billion euros in debt.

The suggestion did not fly. It was an election year in Greece, after all, and the country was already struggling to keep up the payments on its debt, which is higher in proportion to economic output than in any other nation in the European Union.

The plan was shelved, soon to be overshadowed by the country’s close brush with bankruptcy.

Losses at Hellenic Railways, however, continue to mount — at the rate of 3 million euros ($3.8 million) a day. Its total debt has increased to $13 billion, or about 5 percent of Greece’s gross domestic product.

Now, as a condition of Greece’s financial rescue, the International Monetary Fund is demanding that a solution be found. The fund and the European Union, which also chipped in to provide the bailout, are requiring that the debt of Hellenic Railways, as well as the off-balance-sheet obligations of other state-owned enterprises, be counted toward Greece’s official debt — which Greece has agreed to do.

Analysts estimate the total to be around $33.6 billion, a sum that would add another 11 percentage points to Greece’s current debt level of about 120 percent of gross domestic product. It would also surely raise questions for many investors about the government’s ability to repay ever-increasing amounts as the overall economy contracts.

Some have argued that Hellenic Railways should shut down the majority of its routes, especially in the mountainous Peloponnese region where trains manned by drivers being paid as much as $130,000 a year frequently run empty.

The government, perhaps optimistically, is advocating the sale of a 49 percent stake to the French, who said this year that they would take a look. But it remains unclear how the French rail network, already burdened with its own high levels of debt, would be able to assume Hellenic’s liabilities and losses.

The debate, a longstanding one in Greece, has taken on new urgency of late. For the better part of a decade, Greece has provided sovereign backing to Hellenic Railways, thus allowing it to borrow billions from accommodating foreigners even though the company’s finances are so skewed that it pays three times as much on interest expenses than it collects in revenue.

The precarious nature of euro zone finances has made it increasingly difficult for state rail companies to raise capital throughout Europe. Standard & Poor’s recently downgraded the debt of the French and Portuguese national rail operators, and earlier this month Moody’s placed the Spanish train operator on review for a possible downgrade.

Until now, Greece has been able to use its rail system as a means to support employment while not adding to its official debt number.

“This was an accounting trick, another good way for the government to hide its debt,” said John C. Mourmouris, a former chief executive of the railway who is now an economics professor here. “But a company with 100 million euros in revenue can no longer borrow 1 billion euros a year.”

In the latest annual figures available, Hellenic Railways reported a loss of more than $1 billion in 2008, on sales of about $253 million. Of course, shaky finances are not uncommon among rail operators in Europe. Many are poor cash generators. Their prices are kept low as a matter of social policy, forcing the companies to become heavy state-backed borrowers to finance upkeep and expansion.

Even so, the Greek railway is in a category by itself. According to an analysis by Mr. Mourmouris, for Hellenic Railways to just break even, it would need to increase passenger traffic by a factor of 10, an outcome that seems unlikely. Greece has a well-developed road network, a relatively short distance separates its main cities and the railway’s shabby reputation makes it an unpopular travel option for most Greeks.

In spite of about $3.2 billion of investment since 1997, outside of the main route between Athens and Thessaloniki, the network seems in many respects patchwork and at times chaotic.

Earlier this month, for example, a trip from Athens to Diakopto, a seaside town on the northern coast of the Peloponnese, took more than four hours. The journey required train passengers to complete a second leg by transferring to an overcrowded bus that was delayed for an hour. The result was a near riot as enraged passengers hurled abuse at overwhelmed train officials.

The same trip by car would take less than two hours.

“It is crazy,” said Nikolaos Kioutsoukis, the union chief for the railway. “It’s not surprising that people prefer to go by car.”

Even he accepts that train travel in Greece is not financially viable on many routes. He blames low prices, misguided investment and political meddling for the railway’s poor condition, and says the government should make new investments to modernize the network. He opposes privatization and says that if jobs and benefits are threatened, the union will strike.

Haris Tsiokas, the general secretary for the Greek Transport Ministry, contends that the government’s plan to close at least 35 loss-making routes and cut 2,500 jobs (1,000 via mandatory retirement, with the rest being moved to other government jobs) will make Hellenic Railways attractive to foreign investors. But he concedes that the pressure is building for the railway, which, for now at least, does not have access to debt markets.

“We are struggling to avert the closure” of the rail system, he said in response to questions sent by e-mail. “We want Greece’s future railway to be competitive with road transport services.”

But reaching such a goal may be impossible, especially when the average salary of a rail employee is over $78,000. Employees benefited from politically inspired pay increases over the last decade. Between 2000 and 2009, the cost of the company’s payroll soared by 50 percent even as overall personnel decreased by 30 percent.

In the eyes of Costis Hatzidakis, the former transportation minister, talk of streamlining, reform and the search for a foreign investor is mere cosmetics when compared with the weight of the rail system’s debts — the bulk of which will mature in 2014.

“When I was minister I said I was not going to privatize” Hellenic Railways, he said, “because I knew I couldn’t find an investor silly enough to invest in a company with so much debt.”

Niki Kitsantonis contributed reporting.

SAN FRANCISCO — The iPhone 4 antenna may be causing static for some Apple investors, but the company is showing no signs of slowing down.

Apple said on Tuesday that its net income rose 78 percent last quarter, driven by strong sales of the iPhone, the iPad and the Macintosh line of computers.

The results show that Apple is continuing to outpace its competitors in its three major lines of business: computers, phones and tablets. And Apple would be selling even more iPhones and iPads if it could keep up with demand.

“More and more, people’s lives are dependent on desktop and mobile computing,” said Gene Munster, an analyst with Piper Jaffray. “People realize that and are willing to pay up for it, and Apple is capitalizing on that.”

Apple executives said they were pleased with the results, which topped Wall Street’s forecasts.

“IPad is off to a terrific start, more people are buying Macs than ever before, and we have amazing new products still to come this year,” Steven P. Jobs, Apple’s chief executive, said in a news release.

Apple sold nearly 3.3 million iPads in the quarter. Consumers gravitated to higher-priced models of the tablet, helping to create a new segment of Apple’s business that generated revenue of $2.1 billion.

With 8.4 million units sold, the iPhone remains Apple’s biggest and most profitable business, generating $5.3 billion in revenue in the quarter. Most of the sales were of the iPhone 3G and 3GS, since the iPhone 4 went on sale June 24, just three days before the quarter’s end.

And Apple sold 3.47 million Macintosh computers, the most ever in a quarter, dispelling fears that the iPad would hurt those sales.

“Apple was scared that the iPad would cannibalize sales of Macintosh computers,” Mr. Munster said. “That’s not happening.”

Apple said its net income rose to $3.25 billion, or $3.51 a share, a 78 percent jump from a year earlier. Revenue rose 61 percent, to $15.7 billion.

On average, Wall Street analysts had expected Apple to report net income of $3.12 a share on revenue of $14.75 billion.

Investors were watching for the effect of the iPad on Apple’s profit margins; the company had warned earlier that the iPad’s margins would be lower than those of products like the iPhone. But in a conference call with investors, Apple executives said that the drop was less than expected, in part because of brisk sales of highly profitable iPhones.

Over all, Apple’s gross margin was 39.1 in the most recent quarter, down from 40.9 percent in the period a year earlier. The company also gave a bullish forecast for the current quarter.

“Apple is now a multifaceted company, and it continues to defy the economy,” said Shaw Wu, an analyst with Kaufman Brothers.

Shares of Apple had fallen nearly 9 percent since the introduction of the iPhone 4, but they rebounded 2.57 percent on Tuesday to close at $251.89. Apple released its financial results after the close of regular trading, and its shares rose an additional 3.1 percent in after-hours trading.

Problems surrounding the iPhone 4’s antenna reception made headlines in recent weeks. Shortly after the release of the device, users began to complain of weak reception and dropped calls when they touched the lower left portion of the antenna, which is built into a steel band that encases the phone.

On Friday, Apple gave its most detailed and forceful defense of the iPhone 4’s ability to receive and hold calls. In a news conference at Apple’s headquarters in Cupertino, Calif., Mr. Jobs said the reception problems were common ones that affected most smartphones, an assertion that several competitors rejected.

Mr. Jobs also said the iPhone’s antenna problems had been blown out of proportion by the media. But to end the controversy, he said, Apple would give customers free bumper cases that insulate the antenna from human touch.

Apple executives dismissed concerns that worries about the antenna were affecting sales.

“We are selling every unit we can make currently,” said Tim Cook, Apple’s chief operating officer, during the conference call. Mr. Cook also said Apple was working hard to increase the supply of iPhones and iPads to catch up with consumer demand.

Apple did not give precise numbers for the cost of the free bumpers, but some analysts said they expected it to be about $178 million.

Those master traders at Goldman Sachs didn’t see it coming, either.
The “flash crash” and the rest of the stock market madness in May and June, as well as the cost of settling an embarrassing civil fraud suit, hammered Goldman’s second-quarter profits. Earnings plunged 82 percent.

The results were Goldman’s worst quarterly performance since the depths of the financial crisis in late 2008, and the first time that it had missed analysts’ estimates in five years.

“It’s rare for them to miss, but it does happen,” said Guy Moszkowski, an analyst with Bank of America Merrill Lynch. “It was a very, very bad operating environment.”

But at $613 million, the investment bank’s quarterly profit was well above the $550 million that Goldman agreed to pay last week to settle fraud claims brought by the Securities and Exchange Commission.

The agency had accused Goldman of misleading institutional investors who bought financial products linked to subprime mortgages that ultimately defaulted. Goldman did not admit wrongdoing but agreed to provide better disclosure to investors in mortgage securities as part of the settlement, one of the largest ever for a Wall Street firm.

On a conference call with reporters Tuesday, the focus remained on the S.E.C’s suit and the after-effects of the settlement. Goldman’s chief financial officer, David A. Viniar, struck an apologetic tone when it came it to the case but insisted Goldman’s sterling image had not been tarnished.

“We acknowledge that we made a mistake, we regret that we made a mistake and we know it was not good for us,” he said. “I can’t tell you if there were calls that we didn’t get; that’s impossible to measure. We feel that our clients have been pretty supportive of us, so far as we can tell.”

Besides the weak trading results, the lackluster numbers also reflected weakness across a range of businesses, including its investment banking unit. “It was really driven by lack of client activity and lack of revenue,” said Mr. Viniar.

In a sign of just how unpredictable investors can be, Goldman’s stock jumped despite the disappointing results, as investors concluded the worst was behind the 141-year old firm. Shares of Goldman rose $3.23, to close at $148.91.

What’s more, Goldman’s employees are on track for what could still turn out to be a very good year. Goldman has set aside $9.3 billion for bonuses and other compensation so far this year — down 18 percent from the first half of 2009 — but enough to equal more than $500,000 per employee at the firm, which has a work force of 34,100.

Goldman’s traders have long aroused envy across Wall Street for their ability to prosper in markets good and bad, but they lost the Midas touch in the spring, especially when it came to trading stocks. As clients bet on rising volatility, Goldman took the other side of the trade, leaving it on the losing end when volatility did in fact surge.

“We didn’t hedge it fast enough,” Mr. Viniar said in a conference call with analysts after the earnings announcement. “Things spiked really dramatically, really fast.”

Mr. Viniar said he did not foresee any changes in Goldman’s top ranks as a result of the settlement. Nor did he foresee the firm giving up the bank status it hastily received after the collapse of Lehman Brothers. As a result of the financial regulatory reform legislation approved by Congress last week, banks will face new restrictions on trading as well as investing in private equity and hedge funds.

The new rules will still permit the kind of trades on which Goldman was caught by surprise, however, because they were done on behalf of clients, underscoring how difficult it will be for regulators to distinguish between proprietary trading and serving customers. Other financial giants, like JPMorgan Chase, Bank of America and Citigroup, also reported disappointing results from their trading operations when they announced second-quarter results last week. Morgan Stanley, Goldman’s longtime rival, is to report its results on Wednesday.

In addition to the $550 million S.E.C. penalty, Goldman also had a one-time charge of $600 million for a tax on industry bonuses that was imposed in Britain.

In the second quarter, net income totaled $613 million, or 78 cents a share, down from $3.43 billion or $4.93 a share, in the same period a year ago. Revenue fell 36 percent, to $8.84 billion from $13.76 billion.

Analysts had been expecting net income of $1.23 billion, or $2.08 a share, on revenue of $8.98 billion, according to Thomson Reuters.

“It’s a weak quarter, that happens,” said Roger Freeman, an analyst with Barclays. “But I wonder to some extent whether any of this quarter’s trading results could be attributed to distractions that management was facing, both around financial reform legislation and the S.E.C. investigation. I wonder if that took away from their focus on markets.”

HIROSHIMA, Japan — Six young Chinese women arrived in this historic city three summers ago, among the tens of thousands of apprentices brought to Japan each year on the promise of job training, good pay and a chance at a better life back home.

Instead, the women say, they were subjected to 16-hour workdays assembling cellphones at below the minimum wage, with little training of any sort, all under the auspices of a government-approved “foreign trainee” program that critics call industrial Japan’s dirty secret.

“My head hurt, my throat stung,” said Zhang Yuwei, 23, who operated a machine that printed cellphone keypads, battling fumes that she said made the air so noxious that managers would tell Japanese employees to avoid her work area.

Ms. Zhang says she was let go last month after her employer found that she and five compatriots had complained to a social worker about their work conditions. A Japanese lawyer is now helping the group sue their former employer, seeking back pay and damages totaling $207,000.

Critics say foreign trainees have become an exploited source of cheap labor in a country with one of the world’s most rapidly aging populations and lowest birthrates. All but closed to immigration, Japan faces an acute labor shortage, especially for jobs at the country’s hardscrabble farms or small family-run factories.

“The mistreatment of trainees appears to be widespread,” said Shoichi Ibusuki, a human rights lawyer based in Tokyo.

From across Asia, about 190,000 trainees — migrant workers in their late teens to early 30s — now toil in factories and farms in Japan. They have been brought to the country, in theory, to learn technical expertise under an international aid program started by the Japanese government in the 1990s.

For businesses, the government-sponsored trainee program has offered a loophole to hiring foreign workers. But with little legal protection, the indentured work force is exposed to substandard, sometimes even deadly, working conditions, critics say.

Government records show that at least 127 of the trainees have died since 2005 — or one of about every 2,600 trainees, which experts say is a high death rate for young people who must pass stringent physicals to enter the program. Many deaths involved strokes or heart failure that worker rights groups attribute to the strain of excessive labor.

The Justice Ministry found more than 400 cases of mistreatment of trainees at companies across Japan in 2009, including failing to pay legal wages and exposing trainees to dangerous work conditions. This month, labor inspectors in central Japan ruled that a 31-year-old Chinese trainee, Jiang Xiaodong, had died from heart failure induced by overwork.

Under pressure by human rights groups and a string of court cases, the government has begun to address some of the program’s worst abuses. The United Nations has urged Japan to scrap it altogether.

After one year of training, during which the migrant workers receive subsistence pay below the minimum wage, trainees are allowed to work for two more years in their area of expertise at legal wage levels. But interviews with labor experts and a dozen trainees indicate that the foreign workers seldom achieve those pay rates.

On paper, the promised pay still sounds alluring to the migrant workers. Many are from rural China, where per-capita disposable income can be as low as $750 a year. To secure a spot in the program, would-be trainees pay many times that amount in fees and deposits to local brokers, sometimes putting up their homes as collateral — which can be confiscated if trainees quit early or cause trouble.

The Japan International Training Cooperation Organization, or Jitco, which operates the program, said it was aware some companies had abused the system and that it was taking steps to crack down on the worst cases. The organization plans to ensure that “trainees receive legal protection, and that cases of fraud are eliminated,” Jitco said in a written response to questions.

Ms. Zhang says she paid $8,860 to a broker in her native Hebei Province for a spot in the program. She was assigned to a workshop run by Modex-Alpha, which assembles cellphones sold by Sharp and other electronics makers. Ms. Zhang said her employer demanded her passport and housed her in a cramped apartment with no heat, alongside five other trainees.

In her first year, Ms. Zhang worked eight-hour days and received $660 a month after various deductions, according to her court filing — about $3.77 an hour, or less than half the minimum wage level in Hiroshima. Moreover, all but $170 a month was forcibly withheld by the company as savings, and paid out only after Ms. Zhang pushed the company for the full amount, she said.

WASHINGTON — It was not quite the Tony Blair-Bill Clinton love fest of 1997, but President Obama and the newly minted British prime minister, David Cameron, appeared game to do everything they could on Tuesday to take some of the recent chill out of the relationship between their countries.

Standing side by side in near-identical dark blue suits and blue ties in the East Room at the conclusion of Mr. Cameron’s first visit to the White House as his nation’s leader, the two fortysomethings systematically papered over the few areas of daylight between the United States and Britain (stimulus spending versus deficit reduction, the pace of withdrawal from Afghanistan, the need for an inquiry into the release by Scotland of the only person convicted in the Pan Am bombing over Lockerbie).

Instead, before the assembled press corps of Washington and Downing Street, they joked about cold beer versus warm beer, whether their children kept their bedrooms tidy and the England-United States World Cup soccer match that ended in a tie.

“While at the World Cup our teams could only manage a score draw, I believe our relationship can be a win-win,” Mr. Cameron said, neglecting to mention that the United States still managed to emerge the winner, over England, of its World Cup group.

Even on one of the main areas of substantive disagreement — the release of Abdel Basset Ali al-Megrahi, the Libyan intelligence agent who had served eight years of a life sentence for his role in the December 1988 bombing of Pan Am Flight 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland — the two seemed determined to project the impression of being in lock step.

But Mr. Cameron, who as leader of Britain’s opposition at the time had objected to the release, said that he did not see any point to an additional investigation into the circumstances of Mr. Megrahi’s release, an investigation that Mr. Obama supports.

“I don’t need an inquiry to tell me it was a bad decision,” Mr. Cameron said. “It was a bad decision.”

Mr. Cameron also said he had no reason to believe that BP had anything to do with the much criticized decision to release Mr. Megrahi from a Scottish prison last year to win oil concessions from Libya.

He and Mr. Obama both strongly condemned the release, which the Scottish government decided on compassionate grounds after doctors there testified that Mr. Megrahi was likely to die of advanced prostate cancer within three months. He is still alive and living in Tripoli, Libya.

“It was the biggest mass murder in British history, and there was no business letting him out of prison,” Mr. Cameron said, adding that he and Mr. Obama were in “violent agreement” on that.

The first formal visit between an American president and a British prime minister is always fraught with historical significance. The two Western powers make much of their vaunted “special relationship,” which Mr. Obama, who never seemed to warm to Mr. Cameron’s predecessor, Gordon Brown, mentioned twice during the news conference; Mr. Cameron once.

In this case, not only is Mr. Cameron new to his job, but as leader of the Conservative Party, he is ideologically more distant from Mr. Obama than was Mr. Brown, who was leader of the Labour Party.

Britain’s press pays a lot of attention to every facet of how its prime ministers are treated by American presidents; any slight, real or imagined, is examined, as Mr. Obama learned last year. The White House press secretary, Robert Gibbs, had to step in to quell an uproar in the British press over the White House’s rejection of five requests from the British for a meeting between Mr. Obama and Mr. Brown last September. (“Stop reading those London tabloids,” Mr. Gibbs said, insisting that the White House turned down the requests because Mr. Obama and Mr. Brown talked all the time.)

Mr. Cameron’s first visit to Washington as prime minister was meant as a way for he and Mr. Obama to tackle a series of issues vital to the two countries, in particular the war in Afghanistan and steps toward a global economic recovery. But the BP oil spill, and a decision by the Senate Foreign Relations Committee to hold hearings on July 29 on Mr. Megrahi’s release, dominated the joint news conference after the White House meetings.

Lawmakers who pressed for the Washington hearing on the release — including the senators from New York, New Jersey and California, home states to many of the 189 American bombing victims at Lockerbie — have demanded that BP explain its role in lobbying for the prisoner-transfer agreement Britain and Libya concluded in December 2007. The senators have said they want to explore possible links between Mr. Megrahi’s release and BP’s eagerness to win Libyan ratification of an offshore oil deal that company officials have said could be worth $20 billion.

Brian Knowlton contributed reporting from Washington and John F. Burns from London.

MAYWOOD, Calif. — Not once, not twice, but three times in the last two weeks, Andrew Quezada says, he was stopped and questioned by the authorities here.

“I’m walking along at night carrying an overstuffed bag,” he said, describing two of the incidents. “I look suspicious. This shows the sheriff’s department is doing its job.”

Chalk up another Maywood resident who approves of this city’s unusual experience in municipal governing. City officials last month fired all of Maywood’s employees and outsourced their jobs.

While many communities are fearfully contemplating extensive cuts, Maywood says it is the first city in the nation in the current downturn to take an ax to everyone.

The school crossing guards were let go. Parking enforcement was contracted out, City Hall workers dismissed, street maintenance workers made redundant. The public safety duties of the Police Department were handed over to the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department.

At first, people in this poor, long-troubled and heavily Hispanic city southeast of Los Angeles braced for anarchy.

Senior citizens were afraid they would be assaulted as they walked down the street. Parents worried the parks would be shut and their children would have nowhere to safely play. Landlords said their tenants had begun suggesting that without city-run services they would no longer feel obliged to pay rent.

The apocalypse never arrived. In fact, it seems this city was so bad at being a city that outsourcing — so far, at least — is being viewed as an act of municipal genius.

“We don’t want to be the model for other cities to lay off their employees,” said Magdalena Prado, a spokeswoman for the city who works on contract. “But our residents have been somewhat pleased.”

That includes Mayor Ana Rosa Rizo, who was gratified to see her husband get a parking ticket on July 1, hours after the Police Department had been disbanded. The ticket was issued by enforcement clerks for the neighboring city of Bell, which is being paid about $50,000 a month by Maywood to perform various services.

The reaction is all the more remarkable because this is not a feel-good city. City Council hearings run hot, council members face repeated recall efforts and city officials fight in public. “You single-handedly destroyed the city,” the city treasurer told the City Council at its most recent meeting.

Four years ago, in what was probably the high-water mark of acrimony in Maywood, a deputy city clerk was arrested and accused of soliciting a hit man to kill a city councilman. The deputy clerk, Hector Duarte, was concerned that his salary might be reduced or his job eliminated during a previous round of bad fiscal times; he was sentenced to a year in jail and six months of anger management counseling.

This time, the councilman, Felipe Aguirre, has received no threats and has seen remarkably little anger. “This is a very bad economy,” said Mr. Aguirre, who like the mayor and fellow council members receives a stipend from the city of $347 every two weeks. Even if city employees lose their benefits, he said, “very good workers are still going to hang around.”

Jose B. Garcia, an assistant city planner, will now be working on contract. “I still have a job,” he said. “In that sense, I can’t complain too much.”

Maywood, which covers slightly more than one square mile, is one of the most densely populated cities in the country. The official population of 30,000 is believed to considerably understate the actual total of about 50,000.

It has some of the ills that plague other cities. Property taxes, a primary source of revenue, have declined to $900,000 from $1.2 million in 2007. Sales taxes have also dropped. But Maywood’s biggest problem by far has been its police department.

LOS ANGELES — It was the most painful sort of ordinary.

At Mary Alexander’s home is a picture of her daughter, Alicia, who was 18 in 1988 when she was found dead in an alley.
One summer day in 1985, a woman turned up dead in a South Los Angeles alleyway. Almost exactly a year later, another woman with fatal bullet wounds was found, in another alley nearby. And so it went, for nearly 25 years — with a 13-year lull in which the killings seemed to stop — black women, many of whose struggles with drugs had worried or alienated their families, were found dead and discarded around the streets and alleyways of South Los Angeles.

Their killings went unsolved in part because of a lack of witnesses and evidence, but also because Los Angeles County — and particularly the beleaguered corridors south of the 10 Freeway — endured so many murders, some at the hands of other serial killers, it took a long time to confirm that 10 women and one man were killed by the “Grim Sleeper,” so called for his supposed killing hiatus.

“Bodies accumulated,” said Detective Clifford Shepard, who has worked for the Los Angeles Police Department for more than 25 years. “You just didn’t have any information back then. It was an insane time.”

Lonnie David Franklin Jr., a mechanic and auto thief who lived among the victims for all those years, was arrested this month after almost a quarter-century of brutality, linked to the killings through a sophisticated use of DNA analysis.

Most of the victims’ bodies were found within two miles of Mr. Franklin’s home in a fairly circumscribed section of South Los Angeles near the 110 and 105 Freeways. Some were dumped along quiet stretches of south Western Avenue, where single-story homes sit next to ramshackle motels, auto body shops and a park. Others lay in the alleys that cut through residential blocks on either side of Western’s commercial strip, an area dotted with fast food restaurants, liquor stores, and churches big and small.

In many ways, the case sums up the long and painful history of a neighborhood where drug crimes, gang violence and an uneasy relationship with the police combined to hinder the arrest of Mr. Franklin, and contributed to the demise of women whose footing in their community was so unsure, there were few left behind to rage for justice. Most were unaware until recently then that their loved one’s killer had taken other lives.

“I didn’t know about other murders,” said Betty Lowe, the mother of Mary Lowe, the sixth victim. “When the detective was assigned to the case I called practically every day and every day they told me, ‘Nothing yet,’ so I thought it was never going to happen for us.”

While South Los Angeles remains one of the more troubled areas of the city, the arrest of Mr. Franklin also illuminates in many ways how far it has come, both through the vast reduction in violence and the evolution of law enforcement technology and tactics.

“The Grim Sleeper case spans all of that history of South L.A.,” said Joe Hicks, vice president of Community Advocates Inc., who grew up in South Los Angeles. “His activity began in a period of Los Angeles when things were dramatically different, and particularly in the neighborhoods where he operated, and it wasn’t unusual to find bodies in the alleys.

“But the way things have changed over the course of years, the ways the later victims were dealt with, the interaction between the police and community, the way that people in the neighborhood decided we are not going to tolerate” crime and violence among young people, he added. “You superimpose the Grim Sleeper on that, and it is very interesting.”

The 1980s and 1990s, when crack use was widespread, marked a time of intense violence in urban America. There were more than 800 people killed in Los Angeles every year but two from 1985 to 1995. By comparison, 314 people were killed here in 2009.

When the first victim, Debra Jackson, 29, turned up dead, the police were already trying to grapple with other killers who preyed on women, largely women who traded sex for drugs — known as strawberries — in South Los Angeles. A South Side Slayer task force, named for another suspected killer or killers of women, was assigned to unravel the murders.

Monica Long had expected a routine appointment. But here she was sitting in her new oncologist’s office, and he was delivering deeply disturbing news.

Pathologists at Mount Sinai Medical Center in Manhattan examine slides of breast tissue.

Nearly a year earlier, in 2007, a pathologist at a small hospital in Cheboygan, Mich., had found the earliest stage of breast cancer from a biopsy. Extensive surgery followed, leaving Ms. Long’s right breast missing a golf-ball-size chunk.

Now she was being told the pathologist had made a mistake. Her new doctor was certain she never had the disease, called ductal carcinoma in situ, or D.C.I.S. It had all been unnecessary — the surgery, the radiation, the drugs and, worst of all, the fear.

“Psychologically, it’s horrible,” Ms. Long said. “I never should have had to go through what I did.”

Like most women, Ms. Long had regarded the breast biopsy as the gold standard, an infallible way to identify cancer. “I thought it was pretty cut and dried,” said Ms. Long, who is a registered nurse.

As it turns out, diagnosing the earliest stage of breast cancer can be surprisingly difficult, prone to both outright error and case-by-case disagreement over whether a cluster of cells is benign or malignant, according to an examination of breast cancer cases by The New York Times.

Advances in mammography and other imaging technology over the past 30 years have meant that pathologists must render opinions on ever smaller breast lesions, some the size of a few grains of salt. Discerning the difference between some benign lesions and early stage breast cancer is a particularly challenging area of pathology, according to medical records and interviews with doctors and patients.

Diagnosing D.C.I.S. “is a 30-year history of confusion, differences of opinion and under- and overtreatment,” said Dr. Shahla Masood, the head of pathology at the University of Florida College of Medicine in Jacksonville. “There are studies that show that diagnosing these borderline breast lesions occasionally comes down to the flip of a coin.”

There is an increasing recognition of the problems, and the federal government is now financing a nationwide study of variations in breast pathology, based on concerns that 17 percent of D.C.I.S. cases identified by a commonly used needle biopsy may be misdiagnosed. Despite this, there are no mandated diagnostic standards or requirements that pathologists performing the work have any specialized expertise, meaning that the chances of getting an accurate diagnosis vary from hospital to hospital.

Dr. Linh Vi, the pathologist at Cheboygan Memorial Hospital who diagnosed D.C.I.S. in Ms. Long, was not board certified and has said he reads about 50 breast biopsies a year, far short of the experience that leading pathologists say is needed in dealing with the nuances of difficult breast cancer cases. In responding to a lawsuit brought by Ms. Long, Dr. Vi maintains that she had cancer and that two board-certified pathologists at a neighboring hospital concurred with his diagnosis.

Yet several leading experts who reviewed Ms. Long’s case disagreed, with one saying flatly that her local pathologists “blew the diagnosis.”

The questions that often surround D.C.I.S. diagnoses take on added significance when combined with criticism that it is both overdiagnosed and overtreated in the United States — concerns that helped fuel the recent controversy over the routine use of mammograms for women in their 40s.

The United States Preventive Services Task Force, an independent panel that issues guidelines on cancer screening, found last November that the downside of routine annual mammograms for younger women might offset the benefits of early detection. The panel specifically referred to overdiagnosis of D.C.I.S., as well as benign but atypical breast lesions that left undetected would never cause problems.

D.C.I.S., which is also called Stage 0 or noninvasive cancer, was a rare diagnosis before mammograms began to be widely used in the 1980s. Until then, breast pathology typically involved reading tissue from palpable lumps. The diagnoses — usually invasive cancer, a benign fibroid tumor or a cyst — were often obvious.

Today, D.C.I.S. is diagnosed in more than 50,000 women a year in this country alone. The abnormal cells, which are encased in breast ducts, are removed before they develop into invasive cancer. There are estimates that if left untreated, it will turn into invasive cancer 30 percent of the time, though it could take decades in some cases.

Concerned about the accuracy of breast pathology, the College of American Pathologists said it would start a voluntary certification program for pathologists who read breast tissue. Among its requirements is that the pathologists must read 250 breast cases a year.

“There’s no question there’s a problem, and that’s why we’re starting this certificate program,” said Dr. James L. Connolly, director of anatomic pathology at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center in Boston.

While the program has not started yet, it is still controversial.