Growing up there was a spectacular movie directed by Jules Dassin called The Naked City released in 1948. That led to a television series from 1958 to 1963 based on the film. There was a line that I loved and every week the television series opened with, "There are a million tales to be told in the naked city." Now living in Hell's Kitchen just one block from Times Square I have a new understanding of that line. Sitting in my home or in the front window of "The Glass House Tavern," I can see those 'tales' unfold everyday.
Have fallen in love with my neighborhood and observing people. There is the guy who walks around every night with a lovely black and white cat sitting on top of his head. The cat sits comfortably balanced as people from the outer reaches of earth line up to have their picture taken with him. Tips, of course, are always appreciated. In the Naked City there is the Naked Cowboy but he is not really naked. He can be found in Times Square in his 'tighty whities' strumming the guitar badly. Times Square is now closed to traffic, so you can sit in an ugly folding chair and watch the characters flood into the crossroad of the world. Brave enterprising folks make money posing as the Stature of Liberty or Charlie Chaplin.
On my street three Broadway plays are open: "Rock of Ages," "Race" and "Time Stands Still." If I time my dinner just right at the Glass House Tavern, I can watch the three distinct crowds heading for each show. David Mamet's "Race" brings the older more intellectual theater crowd who live in the city and can talk about theater for days. "Times Stands Still," which has Alicia Silverstone and Laura Linney in it, draws a younger, hipper but still intellectual crowd that usually makes an evening of going to the theater. Then there is "Rock of Ages" with its 1980's soundtrack that draws everyone from tattoo bikers, to Jersey young people and girls with skirts up to their ass .
As the theaters empty, along come the late night folks packing the bars and clubs between the theaters leading up to Times Square. Right across the street is a three story club with the roof containing a patio. Clearly they have different 'special nights' for their space and one night it will be gay men lined up outside, then the African-American community with hip rappers or Latins swaying to the beat even before they get inside. Often, even on weekdays, they don't get out of the club until 3AM or even 4AM. I have to wonder what kind of jobs they have and what they must be like at work the next morning. Then I smile and remember when I was younger all the 'all-nighters' I used to pull.
From Turkey Hollow to Hell's Kitchen is quite the change. I love my life and the diversity I have experienced throughout my years. And I just love my new neighborhood. It feels like home.
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