New York, New York: Part One

February 2026 (Originally published November, 2002)

“New York, New York, it’s a hell of a town,

The Bronx is up and the Battery’s down,

The people ride around in a hole in the ground…”

A New York Minute is defined as the millisecond it takes from the time a traffic light turns green until a NY driver beeps his horn at the car in front of him.

Dick Schaap coined the expression, “Fun City.” John Lindsay called it, “The fastest track in the world.” For your pleasure, here are  stories the New York Times will never include in The Metropolitan Diaries.

Commotion at Hearld Square

I am walking south on Sixth Avenue (A New Yorker never calls it The Avenue of the Americas) destination Penn Station. At about 36th Street, I realize that there is hardly any northbound traffic. Instead, I witness a sea of flashing lights from atop cop cars, fire trucks and other emergency vehicles gathered across Broadway and Sixth at 33rd Street. In the twilight, the lights multiply in intensity as they bounce off the windows of ground floor stores and shops.

I ask a bored cop leaning across a barricade, “What’s up?”

“It’s (bleeping) Con Edison. They tore up a steam pipe. Last week it was the (bleeping) Arabs, next week, it will be (bleeping) Sharpton.” He shrugs, “All the same to me, I get overtime no matter who it is.”

The New Hotel

The Times Square Marriot Marquis Hotel was designed around a unique central atrium. The glass elevators, mounted on the exterior of a central concrete column provide a continuous view of the atrium. The column was constructed first, before steelwork began. It ascended as a solitary structure and I watched its progress each morning on my walk to work. What was this thing? One morning I knocked on the door of the construction trailer. “What is it?”

“It’s a (bleeping) rocket and we’re shooting it off at noon.” Came the reply as the door slammed shut.

Barney

Barney was a veteran LIRR Conductor nearing retirement. One morning the 6:24 AM train out of Port Washington pulled into the Plandome Station and an elderly woman boarded. Once the doors had closed, Barney made his way over to her to collect her fare. “Conductor, could you please tell me what time this train arrives at Grand Central Station?”

“Lady, you are on the wrong (bleeping) railroad.”

Izzy and the Hippe

It is 1970. I am standing inside United Salvage, a junk store in Chatham Square. I represent an insurance company and my purpose is to negotiate the sale of water damaged and rusted wire cutters. The Kauffman brothers are skilled traders and Izzy Kauffman holds out for a lower price. A young “hippie” woman waiting to purchase a stained and slightly moldy pair of boots interrupts us. “Excuse me, how much do these cost?”

 “$3.00,” Izzy tells her brusquely.

She accepts hands him the money and he offers her a paper bag. Waving it away, she says, “Save a tree.”

The incredulous look on Izzy’s face is priceless. “Save a tree? Save a tree! What are you a crazy person? Get the (bleep) out of my store and stay out.”