This is kind of a granddaddy of public spaces for me. My 181 is here, a PObox which has served as my permanent address for over 20 years. I am expecting arrival of a December, 1902, issue of “The Etude” music magazine, sent from someone in Boston(?). She found my etudemagazine.com site and wrote to ask if I wanted that 1902 issue, since it did not seem to be in my collection. I offered her $10 for the favor, since that’s about what I usually paid for copies of that vintage when I used to actively collect them.
I swear there used to be a diner down here (Concourse) that had some kind of train theme. Maybe the place was called Night Train, because I think it was open 24/7. I used to eat there (or so my foggy memories enumerate) in 1990 and 1991, when I think it closed down. I think part of the space was later taken by a Palm Pilot store. I’ve been meaning to research that by going to a library and finding tourism guide books from those days, which would probably include maps of Rockefeller Center with dining establishments highlighted.
I first entered this Concourse space, and this area specifically, in either 1985 or 1986, when my mother and I came to New York so I could audition for Juilliard. For years we joked about the cost of a couple of brownies and cappuccinos at the dining establishment that looks out on the skating rink. It was thirty bucks. That’s just stupid expensive. Today that might be $75.
A couple of years ago I met a man at the cemetery who said he worked here as Senior Engineer for Rockefeller Center. He seemed amiable enough, and not insane, so his invitation to me to come with him to the rooftop of 30 Rock was both puzzling and intriguing. Certainly this was not radio noir episode where an affable older gentleman seduces middle-aged men like me to their deaths by luring them to skyscraper rooftops and pushing them off. With no fence or barrier between the roof and oblivion below I found that the very idea of standing on the roof of Rockefeller Center opened a flat chasm of panic that tore through the bottom of my brain. A sudden gust of wind up there could toss me into the void like a scrap of paper.
I discussed this episode at some length with a man who started e-mailing me about a year ago. We had rich and strident correspondence which abruptly ended, I suspect on account of serious medical issues on his end. He had lived in New York for decades, working as an engineer at virtually all the major skyscrapers. He had been on all the rooftops and regaled me for passing on the opportunity to stand atop 30 Rock in the company of a qualified engineer.
I responded that something was a little off about this guy (I stand by that) and that I would probably panic up there. Images this fellow sent of himself atop the Twin Towers did nothing to quell the anxiety provoked by even the mere thought of doing such a thing. I can barely stand to ride the Q101 bus over the upper level of the Queensboro Bridge, where the elevated seats of the bus make the concrete barrier invisible. If you look out the right-side window it’s like there is nothing between the bus and an unexpected muscle tic of the bus driver sending this elephantine transit vessel over the edge.
I used to be ok with walking the Triborough but not so much any more. At the highest stretch of that walkway the fence is low enough that I fear evaporation, because I would be wafted over the railing and into the drink like a piece of litter.
Still, something about that fellow I met at the cemetery intrigued me enough to look him up, to see if he was who he claimed to be. No registry of employees at Rockefeller Center is readily available to the public. That’s to be expected. I remember in the early 1990s seeing signs around town offering decent amounts of money for corporate phone directories. I guess that’s target practice for phone scammers.
i never found anything on this guy, though I think I found his silent Facebook page.
This is a noisy space. Low ceilings and relatively cramped quarters (compared to Sony and others) make this something of an echo factory. The headphones do much to null the noise but not enough for my precious sensitivities. Time to move on, but wasn’t planning to be here long, just want to pick up that 1902 magazine.
