The 1933 double eagle, a $20 gold piece with a mysterious history that involves a president, a king and a Secret Service sting operation, was auctioned Tuesday last night for a record price for a coin, $7.59 million, nearly double the previous record. The anonymous buyer, believed to be an individual collector who lives in the United States, made the winning bid in a fiercely contested nine-minute auction at Sotheby's in Manhattan. Eight bidders were joined by 500 coin collectors and dealers in an auction house audience seemingly devoid of celebrity bidders, while an additional 534 observers followed the bidding on eBay. As auction houses prepare for their fall seasons in an uncertain economy, the sale price "suggests that the marketplace for important items is enormously strong," said David Redden, a vice chairman at Sotheby's, who was the auctioneer. "This is an astonishing new record for a coin," he said. In an unprecedented move, the auction proceeds were split by the U.S. Mint and a London coin dealer, Stephen Fenton, who had won that right in court after having been arrested by Secret Service agents for trying to sell the coin in the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in Manhattan in 1996. Henrietta Holsman Fore, the director of the U.S. Mint, who witnessed the sale, said, "The monies we receive will go toward helping to pay down the debt and to fight the war on terrorism." Fenton commented that the double eagle had been on "a long historic journey, with a very satisfying ending." He added, "I am thrilled with the price." The previous numismatic record holder was an 1804 U.S. silver dollar, which sold for $4.14 million in 1999. Sotheby's partner in the one-lot auction was Stack's Rare Coins, with which it shared the customary 15 percent commission. "I have never seen as much interest in the sale of any coin in my 30 years in the business," said Lawrence R. Stack, the company's managing director. "This is the Mona Lisa of coins," said Beth Deisher, editor of Coin World, the largest weekly coin publication in the United States, with a circulation of 85,000. "It is unique. Forbidden fruit." Collectors' Web sites have surged with speculation about the sale price, and enthusiasts even organized betting pools.

Question: "Where did the person live that bid and won the $20 double eagle gold piece?"

Response: "England"

A: no

Let me begin again. I like life on the resort worlds -- always have and, after the upcoming mindwipe, always will. Last year, I rented a small house on Vega IV, a sea world, all islands and reefs and archipelagos, turquoise waters and aquamarine skies, sunrises like symphonies and sunsets like stars gone supernova. There's only one city: called Nuevo Acapulco in La Enciclopedia del Empirio de la Humanidad, it's N'apulco to the locals. The N'apulcans are mostly emigrants from Polaris II; the only difference between them and their Carribbean ancestors is that the ancestors fleeced NorAm tourists. Now the N'apulcans profit from their Hispanic siblings. I don't mean to sound cynical. I suppose I wish to show that I'm still capable of a certain authorial distance, a semblance of dispassionate observation. The following events may indicate otherwise. In fine tourist tradition, most homes on Vega IV are named. Mine was The Sleeping Flamingo, and its outer walls were coral pink. Were they mood-sensitive, they would have changed as I first viewed them. The rental agent, an attractive N'apulcan named Tasha Cortez, was not mood-sensitive either. She said, "It's beautiful, isn't it, Senor Flynn?" My instinct was to gesture curtly with a cupped hand that she lift the wind boat and take me elsewhere. But she was young and attractive (as I have said and may say again) and eager and so happy to be assisting the infamous Bernardo Flynn that I merely raised an eyebrow in mild scepticism. And then, because a playwright cannot resist a promising line, I said, "Your Sleeping Flamingo should be put to sleep."

Question: "What is the full name of the city Tasha Cortez came from?"

Response: "Nuevo Acapulco in La Enciclopedia del Empirio de la Humanidad"

A: yes

After becoming disabled in a machete attack on a visit to his native Haiti, Jean-Claude Joseph needed help persuading his landlord to move him from a fifth-floor apartment to one on the ground floor. Isaac Benjamin became ensnared in a bureaucratic snafu that took away his Social Security disability payments for more than two years. The story of Martha, a woman from Sierra Leone, was more compelling. Beaten, raped and tortured in her politically repressive homeland, she knowingly used someone else's passport to escape to America, but was caught by immigration authorities upon her arrival. She desperately sought political asylum. Not the kind of cases that lead to ground-breaking upheavals in the law, but the kind of cases that are handled day in and day out by lawyers for the legally disenfranchised who have no where else to turn. The work of attorneys from Legal Services of New Jersey will be highlighted in a onehour documentary, "Quest for Justice," to be aired 9 p.m. today on New Jersey Network. Produced by NYD2, a communications firm based in Somerset, the documentary features case histories of clients whose needs ranged from housing to fighting off deportation. Joseph, a 54-year-old naturalized citizen, turned to Legal Services when the landlord of his federally subsidized apartment complex in Elizabeth turned a deaf ear to his request for a ground-floor apartment. Having lost the use of his left arm in warding off the machete attack during a robbery attempt, Joseph said he found it increasingly difficult to negotiate the five flights of stairs lugging groceries or laundry on the frequent occasions when the building's elevator was out of order. "With this, it became impossible for me to stay upstairs," he said, pointing to the scars on his forearm. "If I cannot carry my groceries or my laundry, how can I live?" "It was a compelling case," said Legal Services attorney Stephen St. Hilaire. "The key for us -- and we have to make tough decisions all the time on whether to take a case -- was visualizing what he had to do to get to the fifth floor, struggling with a bag of groceries," he said. Benjamin, 53, of Jersey City had been collecting Social Security disability after undergoing double bypass surgery when the checks stopped coming. He said the agency claimed he had failed to return a form updating the condition of his health. "But what got me was they didn't let me know they didn't get it, they just cut me off," he said, adding he found it impossible to negotiate the Social Security bureaucracy himself.

Question: "Who was struggling to stay upstairs and why?"

Response: "Joseph, he struggles to carry items up the stairs"

A:
yes