A lot of collegians went to Ft Lauderdale for Spring Break. The beach could be very enticing in mid-March. I never went. Instead, I journeyed, during my Junior year, with a trainload of Kent Staters for a school-sponsored tour of New York City. I was fascinated thinking about what was to be my first, real vacation. As with many adventures, the trip did not begin without its problems.
On Friday, March 16, 1956, the last day of the quarter, Kent was almost snowed in. I was sure many would find it difficult to get home for the break. After my last class, Laird drove me to the Erie Station to catch the train for the City.
I boarded at 5:30 p.m., after grabbing supper at Rocky’s and my packet of information from Mr. Wright, our KSU tour guide. However, the train didn’t pull out until 6:30 p.m. So, I sat and thought about what I might look forward to during the days ahead of me. My imagination fell short of the reality that came. A fellow by the name of Ed, who was no conversationalist, sat down beside me.
Once the train started, I began exploring. I found it interesting to pass from one swaying coach to another – this was my first, long train-trip. I met several people I knew. Then I joined some high school seniors who were mingled among students from the university. Evidently most college-aged students did, in fact, prefer Ft Lauderdale to time on Broadway. We played cards until about 9:30 p.m. when I went to the dining car for a drink – a Tom Collins is what one of the Kent students prescribed for me. When I returned to car # 5, most of the lights were out, except where I had been sitting. Here, they were singing songs. We sang until about one o’clock.
The seat I had occupied with Ed was now taken by a girl named Jeannie. Even with the seats in a reclined position, she said she couldn’t fall asleep. She claimed she had always slept on her stomach. I obliged by putting my legs across the seat opposite to me and a pillow on my lap. Somehow, she managed to get in a stomach-prone position on top of me. I tried to fall asleep but certain physiological conditions prevented it. Morning came as it had a habit of doing. I tried to wake up with splashes of water from the onboard restroom. It had been an unforgettable night.
We consumed a very bad-tasting breakfast as we crossed New Jersey. For some unknown reason, the train did not arrive at one of New York’s well-known destinations: Penn Station or Grand Central. Instead, we disembarked and transferred to a passenger ferry to the City. My first view was like a cinemascope picture. Maybe this is why we had not remained on the train, to allow us to view the City from across the river. Actually, the scene appeared to be unreal; in fact, my entire time in the City appeared unreal. I later observed this was true of most of New York’s attractions. I had seen all of them before in movies and this looked like just another one, with a camera slightly out of focus; the morning smog had its effect. Then we docked.
We were herded onto sightseeing buses and shown New York. We stopped in China Town and were exposed to the inside of a temple and a mission. The temple was dark and yet its ornate stage altars were bright. The whole effect was too theatrical to have been real.
We later stopped at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine which was magnificent. There was Riverside Drive, Grant’s Tomb, the Hayden Planetarium, Central Park, and all the rest of the tourist sights. We almost got caught in the St. Patrick’s Day parade. I did see the green center line of Fifth Avenue. After all, it was now March 17.
About noon, we were let out at the Hotel Piccadilly. Mine was room 821. But I didn’t take time to rest. I went out to see New York. First there was the necessity of eating. I looked into many fashionable places – including Jack Dempsey’s. At last, I decided on Roth’s.
But how could I explain my thoughts about standing at the corner of 45th and Broadway, at the center of Times Sq. Everything looked so tall and narrow, the buildings tall and the streets narrow. I soon became accustomed to the buildings and, later, hardly noticed their height. I looked forward to returning to Times Sq. by night.
After eating, I decided to try to line up some productions. I checked the time schedule for Cinerama and went to the St. James Theatre where I managed to get a matinee balcony seat for Pajama Game, my first Broadway musical, which, by the way, I discovered was a misnomer. Not a single one of the main, legitimate theaters was on Broadway. They were all on the side streets. Anyway, I liked Pajama Game.
I bought a ticket for Cinerama and went for a walk. I walked up the Avenue of the Americas, “old 6th Avenue,” to the Empire State Building. I passed dozens of small, tacky, tourist shops with merchandise piled in their windows; second-hand bookstores; and newspaper stands with gaudy offerings. The Empire State appeared to be only a few blocks away, but in New York, distance is deceiving. At last, I entered its marble halls. I purchased a ticket and busily chewing gum, popped my way to the Observation Deck. The screens prevented suicides, but this was one time I had no thoughts of suicide. I took the elevator to the top of the tower. The visibility was 25 miles. It’s almost indescribable.
In this place, I was at the highest man-made point on earth. The straight streets below were lines of toy structures. The buildings were too perfect to be real. When I went up, it was still light. But now it was dark. The canyon of Times Sq. was white hot. Yes, now I knew what canyons were. The buildings, which, from below, were so tall, were entirely insignificant now. I could even see the lower tip of the Island and in the other direction, the lake in Central Park.
Before leaving, I purchased a souvenir aerial view of New York City and a cigarette lighter. Then I rushed back to the Hotel to deposit my loot and go to the Warner Theater to see Cinerama Holiday, which, as far as I was concerned, was a flop. But I wouldn’t have known this, if I had not gone. The actuality of the Cinerama process did not live up to its expectations. {Added note: Cinerama was a very-wide screen, two-dimensional movie designed to give a 3-D perspective, because of “peripheral vision.” It didn’t work!}
It was about 11:30 p.m. when I got out, but Times Sq. was packed with people rushing out of theaters and celebrating St. Patrick’s Day. Everyone had a green top hat, a green bonnet, or a green tie over a green shamrocked something or other. It was a mad carnival. The Planters Peanut sign added to the madness as did all the lights of New York. I walked up and down Broadway, 5th Avenue, 6th Avenue, and the side streets which were not well lit. The buildings were large and good concealment for New York’s gangs, which never showed up. I made it back to the Piccadilly and left a call for an early wake-up.
Sunday morning, I went to Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. There were at least 3,000 in attendance, if not more. I was no good at estimating numbers of people; all my old yardsticks were now broken. It was snowing slightly. There had been some snow the night before, but most of it had been shoveled aside. This was only the beginning of the worst blizzard to hit New York City since 1947.
By Sunday evening, it was almost impossible to walk outside. That afternoon the group from Kent went by subway to Greenwich Village where we saw Candle Song in the Circle-in-the-Square, a small theater where you were never more than ten feet from the stage.
Along the way to and from the theater, I was introduced to Greenwich characters: two young men with beards who imitated Mr. Wright, our group leader. He was, indeed, quite a sight to behold and imitate – a man leading a herd of two hundred people along Times Sq. by blowing a whistle and holding his hat in the air. But not many stared. I guess New Yorkers were used to such oddities.
I was also introduced to the city beneath New York – the subway system, which was unique – with its channels and signs and strings of colored lights leading travelers to different areas.
Sunday evening, we went to the Latin Quarter. There I made sure I sat with Carol Mazzatenta, Mr. Wright’s secretary, who was by far the cutest, unattached girl in the tour. The food was good, and the floor show new to me. One young lady went swimming in a champaign glass without benefit of clothing. Most interesting.
Afterwards we went to see What’s My Line? Fred Allen usually appeared on the show, but that morning he had died of a heart attack. Nevertheless, the show went on. When the show was over, we went to a Penny Arcade on Broadway. Since the weather was so bad, small groups of us took cabs back to the Hotel and, thus, were exposed to that unique animal – the NYC cabdriver. Wow!
I was invited to a Texan party but was too worn out to go. At that time, I did not realize that Texans always partied wherever they went and seldom admitted to being “too worn out” to go to another party right now.