New York Today: First Impressions of Our City

For me, New York is a great international city to work and live.
I'm coming NewYork. I lOVE NEW YORK.

My first visit to the city was at the tender age of 12, coming with my older brother Jim from Carl Junction, population 1,220, in southwest Missouri. My oldest brother Joe at Penn State had invited us up for a visit in the summer of 1965, and he wanted to give us the experience of seeing the big city. Our trip to State College took two days by Trailways bus from Joplin, but it was worth it.

My strongest memories:

Going to the World's Fair and seeing the massive Unisphere and experiencing the joy of tasting Belgian waffles for the first time ...

Seeing the Empire State Building rising alone and majestic out of the fog on the morning we drove in ...

Watching the numbers on the columns at the subway stations whiz by as our train passed ...

Staying at the YMCA on E. 47th to save money and being warned by Joe not to go down the hallway to the bathroom by ourselves ...

The great crowds of people walking along the sidewalks every day, all day ...

My dad told us years later that when we came back to Missouri and stepped off the bus, we acted like we didn't know him and Mom. Guess we got all growed up.

I loved it then. Still do.

This incident wasn't my first visit to N.Y.C.; I previously worked for a non-profit in Midtown in 1975-76, while living in Morningside Heights and the Upper West Side, before moving to Chicago.

In August 2004, while stopped at a red light behind another driver in Queens, a driver backed from an angled parking spot into the side of my car. I turned the corner to avoid obstructing traffic to await a NYPD accident investigator, inadvertently blocking a crosswalk. As the investigator took my report, another officer wrote the ticket for blocking the crosswalk. The investigator told me to include a copy of the report with the ticket and it would be dismissed. I did as instructed and hearing nothing further, assumed the matter resolved.

Nearly a tear later, I received a "Motion to Vacate Judgment" and assuming my original response lost in the mail, provided a written explanation of the events and included another copy of the accident report. In response, an attorney from Parking Enforcement sent a letter stating that they were detaching the accident report from the "Motion" and demanding payment. As a retired attorney, I'm aware that a judgment based on tampered evidence and perpetration of fraud upon the court is "void ab-initio (from inception)." I refused to be cheated. When a collection agent called, I explained the circumstances and my refusal to pay.

N.Y.C. Kleptocrats must realize that cheating accident victims neither enhances the city's Good Will, nor fill its coffers!

My first visit was in 1980 and the friend of a friend that I had hoped would host me had left town for an indefinite time. I walked the streets at night carrying a suitcase and a camera bag, growling menacingly to anyone that came too close. My first attempt at a hotel apparently let their rooms by the hour and the manager told me that I probably wouldn't like to stay there. Finally, at the Y on 33rd St, there was still four hours before they would open so I tried to sleep on a bench in Penn Station. Fortunately I looked more neat than the homeless people that were thrown out every 15 minutes or so by transit cops so I was able to catch a few winks.
This first encounter led to a life-long attachment to the city where I eventually married my wife in the Swedish Seaman's Church in 1989.
Never a resident, but a frequent visitor, I am hoping that the sale of my Swedish reasonably attractive four bedroom house will net a profit that can allows us to retire to a studio in Spuyten Duyvil or around the Grand Concourse in a few years. You can always hope...

Being a native New Yorker, I can only talk about my first impression of Coney Island...in a word, it was magical.
The bright lights in the summer night sky, the salty ocean breezes, the sweetest corn-on-the-cob you ever tasted-- it just melted in your mouth like butter.
Oh...and the hot dogs.
What more could a four-year-old want?

I first visited when I was in my forties. I remember walking out of Penn Station and it was like getting smacked with a 2x4. I felt like a total hick, like I should be wearing coveralls and rubber boots with manure on them. I stayed with a friend in a loft above the Fulton Fish Market which did not quiet down at night. Guys named Vinnie shouting at guys named Vinnie all night long. In the morning the street was occupied by some very satisfied cats.
I went home and woke up to the sound of a distant tractor.

First trip to NY: Living in LA, in 1983, and my girlfriend wanted to get into advertising. She flew ahead and my buddy and I drove her car out. Just as we get into the city, we're in the middle of a traffic jam. Suddenly we're surrounded by people with buckets and squeegees "cleaning" our car windows and demanding money. Scared the heck out of a couple of Santa Monica beach bums. Cut to 9 months later. The girlfriend had decided she'd had enough of the city and wanted to move back to LA. We had left the car with a friend in Connecticut, and upon driving back into the city was approached by a guy with a bucket and squeegee. I rolled down the window and rather rudely told him what to do with himself. Driving away I realized how much I'd changed in those 9 months. Still miss the place.

My first visit to NYC: Labor Day weekend 1976. Six years old. Jane Pauley made her debut on the Today show. Jerry Lewis telethon/marathon was ongoing. The morning news on the TV opened with the body count from the night before. The air was oppressive and thick with accents I'd never heard. The sidewalks were a blur of activity and colors. I loved the carved ivory earrings my mother bought in Chinatown. A strange man struck up a conversation with me at the restaurant. I feared falling off of the observation deck of the Empire State Building. I could not comprehend the relentless repetition of buildings upon buildings for as far as my eyes could see. The constant thrum of traffic and the suffocating stench of diesel exhaust. The shock that people could live like this every day.

I was instantly hooked for life.

1983, age 9, in town on a bus trip from NE PA for first Broadway show. After a half hour in the city, I turned to my mother and said "I want to live here." Took me 30 years to make it, with detours to the Midwest, Philly, and DC, but I finally made it! Wouldn't trade it for the world.

At 2 years old, on the first day in the city, I was in the front page of some tabloid. The photo shows me screaming my head off with another little immigrant, Mary Bach.
I had just arrived from Northern Ireland with my parents.
I don't know the date nor the name of the newspaper. My grandparents had it framed but it was lost long ago.

My first trip to NY was in the mid 90's, checking out schools for our daughter. Virtually all stereotypes were blown away, except for the cab drivers. they tended to be very aggressive drivers and I could understand why they had "bumper bars" on the front and rear. But the people were very friendly and helpful. As visitors looking at maps, they inevitably asked if they could help us find wherever it was we were headed. But the noise and commotion was too much for us older folks. The daughter has wound up living in NY and, as a result, we do get back on a regular basis. Still a lot of noise an commotion.

I will never forget my first visit to NYC. It was January 1979 and I was a graduating senior from Auburn University. I was simply agog at the speed, intensity, visual stimulation, variety of everything and was sold (alas, loved the city, hated the employer). While my memory is black and white (it was a grim January day) it still seems like a scene from Taxi all these years later.

My most memorial experience that day was when I left my suitcase in front of the elevator while I went to the restroom. I came back and a lady from one of the offices was protectively hovering over my bag. After she finished taking me to task over this "could have been a disaster moment" she heard my youthful, flustered southern accent "ma'aming" her as hard as I could go, took pity and just said in her most maternal voice "honey, don't ever leave a bag out like that as it will get stolen". I remember this kind lady when people say New Yorkers are not friendly as I know better.

Charles Henagan
Atlanta, Ga

NYC is so walkable. We never take a cab while visiting - we stay close to the theaters, museums and restaurants.

Having been born here, I can't remember my initial thoughts about living here. Some of my earliest memories comprise of playing in apartment building hallways in the Concourse section of the South Bronx. Spending the summer days outside in front of our apartment building on Sheridan Avenue, playing with my brother and cousins as the grown ups played dominos, or just passed the time while listening to Bachata music as it clashed with all the many other bits of Latin music that were audible.

That being said, whatever initial impression I had was irrelevant as I was stuck with New York for good! My grandmother on the other hand, who immigrated to New York City from the Dominican Republic in the 1960s would tell you that her expectations were not met.

First trip from Chicago was in 1967, when I was 10 years old. We visited my aunt who was living in a studio apt in 2 Washington Square Village. (She lived there for 60 yrs, until we moved her out in 2012.) I recall there was a playground in the courtyard & thought it was the greatest to have a playground right where you lived, instead of going to a park. My family was living in the suburbs & so seeing the high rise apt buildings; taking an elevator to go to your home was exciting!

There were so many people and I think my parents & aunt were terrified that one of us kids (5) would get lost. We drove by a cemetery & even it was horribly crowded compared to Chicago.

The trip ended with a visit to beautiful Jones Beach. That was my first experience with an ocean. I loved it and collected sea shells with my mom. Had Manhattan-style clam chowder which I still prefer, & best of all, we brought home boxes of salt-water taffy.

Since then, every visit to New York & esp Washington Square Village/NYU area was memorable for tons of reasons. Sad that since we moved my aunt to Chicago to be closer to family, I don't get there much anymore.

First day of work: On the subway from Brooklyn into Manhattan. Left my briefcase underneath the seat. Totally deflated and depressed. When I got home that evening, a call from "such-and-such Talent Agency". One of their employees saw me rush from the subway, couldn't catch me and took my briefcase into work. Smitten!

The first time I was in New York City I felt energy coming up through my feet, and I knew I was home. Now I live in Denver and I don't feel like I'm home.

An army transport brought me, my parents, and 2,997 other DP's to NY in May of 1950. I threw up and, at the same time, I absolutely loved it. I knew we had arrived at the right place. At times, it still elicits the same feelings.

Hello -the last time I visited NY city was in the 8Os. I returned last weekend to the East Village area. So technically, it wasn't my first visit . It was truly an adventure. Everyone I met was very nice . I can't really list all the mini high points -it would take too long . I want to go back ! The sea of people that greet you coupled with the extraordinary array of things to do is unbeatable . I love it !

“From June to August, around 16 million tourists will pack our steamy streets.”

Tune of “I Wanna Dance With Somebody Who Loves Me”
(imagining a cranky New Yorker take; can’t get the tune out of my head after clicking that weather link!)

The clock beeps, it’s half past six, and my place is hot as hell
I type an email for my super that my air’s not working well
I’m rarely cranky, no not me;
As I head out slowly towards the 3
But I have no doubt, the tourists are out

(chorus)
Oh, I wanna space with nobody
Don’t wanna share the streets with nobody
Yeah, I wanna space with nobody - with nobody who bugs me
Yeah, I wanna space with nobody
Don’t wanna share the streets
Yeah, wanna place with nobody - with nobody who bugs me

(Nobody who, nobody who)
Nobody who bugs me
(Nobody who, nobody who)
Is standing in my way

I know they come here and spend their cash
That when I diss them, I’m just talking trash
Still, when I need air, they always are there

(repeat chorus) Oh, I wanna space with nobody, etc.

:)

First trip was March 1981, on college spring break. As our bus approached the Edison Hotel in Times Square, we saw a giant billboard with one word: "Whorehouse". There was disappointment to find out it was just advertising the musical, "Best Little Whorehouse in Texas."

Times Square was different: No M&Ms store or Hard Rock Cafe, just a lot of young entrepreneurs openly selling cocaine, heroin, marijuana, and all kinds of pills right across the street from the police precinct. And lots of young, skinny women, roughly 15- to 20-years of age, openly selling their bodies. They just walked up, grabbed your arm and asked if you needed a date. There were street preachers fighting for space with the drug dealers and prostitutes. And each night about 10 p.m, youths would set fire to the trash receptacles in Times Square, which I took as a signal that it was time to get back to the hotel.

Subways weren't much different, except lots more graffiti. (Was warned to stay back on the platforms, to better avoid a crazy person pushing you in front of a train.) Saw my first Broadway shows; everybody dressed up and paid attention to the shows (of course, there were no cellphones in 1981). And had a wonderful, boozy time at the St. Patrick's Day Parade. We drank late into the night in a little bar in Midtown filled with firefighters from Albany.

I fell in love with city and always look forward to coming back. But Times Square is kind of boring now. Safer, more crowded, but boring.

I did hear about kids not looking at where they are going while playing Pokemon Go, which could be dangerous, though they could try to look at what's really there to avoid that. Nevertheless, I was never into Pokemon to begin with. I just find it to be overrated, repitative, and predictable for the most part, but please don't grill me, because that is my opinion and I am entitled to that. As a matter of fact, I have always found Digimon to be way better mainly because each of their new seasons had new characters with different Digimon with even different enemies that even gave newer forms of evolution that the previous seasons didn't have. Another thing was that I find it good that they had an ending, because it showed that either the Digidestined or Tamers fulfilled their mission and can go back to their normal lives while in Pokemon, it just feels like a never ending story for one person who just gets a reset button each season. For those who think that Digimon is rip-off of Pokemon, I really suggest watching the show first, because most Pokemon fanatics who make that claim never do that, plus there is a seventh season currently airing in Japan known as Digimon Adventures Tri, which actually brings back the Digidestined of the first season but has them older, though I'm still waiting for the third part of Digimon Fusion, which is the sixth season, otherwise known as Digimon Xross Wars back in Japan. Overall, Pokemon never did win my support and I did give it a try.

Those interested in ManhattanHenge should read Don Delillo's latest, Zero K. The last chapter is all about MH.

Roger

Here s a memory from 1903. While I was not present when my grandmother arrived in lower Manhattan from Poland, I have heard what her first impression was as a three year old. "If this is America, I want to go home!" This was not said n English. She only spoke Yiddish. Her parents were caretakers on a farm and she was used to farm life. She felt the lower east side was smelly, dirty and there was too much noise. She had no idea how lucky she was to leave the programs in Eastern Europe