241. BELIEVE ME,
MODERN WORLD
With the final defeat
of Robert Moses' plans
for the village area, the
later destruction, in much
the same way, of a great
swath of neighborhood -
Lebanese, Middle Eastern,
electronics, hit me like a
punch in the face. It was
the very same thing, this
time done on a small,
ignored population of
immigrants. Forget whites.
It was OK, things all were
torn down, and the people
sent away, so the World
Trade Center site could be
developed. It was a massive
undertaking, and by 1967,
well underway. When I
saw all that going on, I
was pretty flabbergasted.
There was endless, 24-hour
work underway, buildings
coming down and new
things going up. Klieg
lights and massive trucks,
delivering, all through the
nights. No different than
the days. For a few years,
the yellow protective work
cover went up, on each
tower, as work went higher
and higher - exo-skeletal
and structural work, and
then all the interiors and
fittings - heat, vent, etc.
When it finally did get
to some point of completion,
it seemed done, though
it never was, really, It
was never really 'occupied'
either. The dearth of
rental and all the vacant
office space was enough
for the Rockefeller people
to take the space over -
State of New York this
and that became tenants.
Entire lower floors of
'Depts. of This or That'.
an office carnival on
wheels, with the
swiftest elevators -
back then - in the
world. Something like
60 mph, at full tilt.
Remember what I said
two days ago: 'what
goes up must come
down.' The higher floors,
eventually filling, were
finance and brokerage
back-office things. And
the big, fancy restaurant
at the top where everyone
wished to be. Eating $12
steaks, for $60 each.
-
Moses had been foiled,
but this went on anyway.
When it did eventually
all come down, I think
that added to the shock -
for me, anyway. In the
world's own, very weird
way, they had reiterated his
efforts and done the work
for him. But it was loss/loss,
certainly not win/win. Go
home at night, everyone
dies. After the towers fell,
I realized all life is a tragedy.
A tragic game, an end game,
a check-mate. and we are
all, each, just waiting for
it to happen. Even the
happy ones among us -
same result, they just
see it differently.
-
In Summer, 1967, part
of my entry into this
strange new world,
for myself, as an
18-year old newcomer,
was to see all this. I
went there constantly.
I had my bicycle,
and a friend, Judy
Tenenbaum, the
previously mentioned
art student with me,
the fruit-stealer, the
eater of cauliflower
like an apple. We'd
be riding along, she'd
pluck fruit from a
stand, and we'd keep
going. She was pretty
good at that. Anyway,
the all-night crews
were always at it,
jackhammering and
building, whatever
they did for that -
I guess not riveting,
that was too old-style.
But, who knows, maybe
that too. It was, all of
it, my strange introduction
to this new, bizarrely lit,
always busy, incredibly
altering, constantly
replacing itself, place
I had stepped into.
I was awed. I was
shaken. I go there
now, there are Burger
Kings, chain eateries,
Subways, and all the
rest. Back then, there
was nothing like that
- just the slow,
dim-witted and grime
infested all-night
diners and coffee
places, and bars and
taverns, where people
sulked. If a Ronald
McDonald clown-type
ever had shown up.
then, he (or it) would
have been shot dead
on sight. Believe me,
modern world, that's
how different
things were.
No comments:
Post a Comment