Goodbye 43rd Street (and another contest)

The New York Times (where I’m the night manager of news graphics) is moving into the brand new 52-story Times Tower at 620 Eighth Ave between 40th and 41st Streets.The scheduled move time for the graphics desk was Friday night after the paper closed. Eager to get started, the movers swarmed the graphics department around 12:35, about an hour before the whistle normally blows. (It’s actually a cow bell, but that’s another story).

See those orange crates? Except for the computers, we had to pack all our own stuff. When the packing crates arrived, our maps manager just happened to be wearing a crate-colored shirt. His posture expressed pretty much how we all felt about having to pack all our own stuff in those crates.


D-Day: The movers began swarming our floor at around 8:35 p.m. (They seemed so focused and hurried that I was just a little concerned they might put me on the truck too.)



Pink bubble wrap for Amanda’s computer.



No time wasted: this is a well-oiled machine of moving teams.



Overview of our little corner of the newsroom. The paper has been edited in this building since 1913. (I haven’t been there quite that long.)



Keyboards and Wacom tablets went into plastic bags.



Um, could you be careful with that baby?



The guy in the white shirt was assigned to my desk. He waited patiently while I took pictures. Most of the time he was standing behind me with his arms crossed tapping his fingers on his forearm.



That’s it. My computer is gone, taken right out from under my fingers. “Hope you don’t need anything else tonight,” I told the news desk. “All the computers in my department are gone.” (Perfect day for a slide if you ask me.)

Total time it took to clear out the graphics desk:
32 minutes start to finish.



The front lobby desk. I’ve walked by that desk nearly every day since 1990. One day soon it’ll probably be a Baby Gap or a Starbucks or something.



The newspaper was printed in the basement of the building on 43rd Street until 1997. The delivery trucks were loaded in the delivery bays you see above (that’s my car in the picture). How did I luck out with such a great parking perk? When the presses moved to College Point, Queens, the space in the bays wasn’t really being used for anything. When I was expecting Gregory seven years ago, the security guards (and Bob Sheridan) arranged to let me park in the bay. And this is where I’ve parked ever since — the best perk ever — FREE PARKING in Times Square! I am SO grateful for that generosity and for all the guards who opened the door for me coming and going.

Here’s one of my favorite parking stories: One night a few years ago, on my way into work around 7 p.m., two elderly women dressed to the nines were walking down the sidewalk on 43rd Street as I was about to drive into the bay. (They looked like tourists headed to the theatre.)

The guard held them back so I wouldn’t run them over. One of the women took out a camera, saying to the other woman, “Here, get her picture. She must be somebody important to get to park there.”

The guard didn’t skip a beat. “She owns the place,” he said.

For a brief moment, I was the subject of their paparazzi, my 30 seconds of fame. Alas, truth be told, I was nothing but a lucky peon with a fantastic parking perk. But that day, I couldn’t stop smiling.

With the move to the new building, I lose my parking place. The picture above shows my car parked in the bay for the last time.



Though I hold out hope that I’ll find luck in new ways!





Times Square just outside the Times building on my last exodus from 43rd Street, the hazy, misty air around 1 a.m. If you look closely, you might make out the moving truck coming down the street.

And finally, today’s contest:



This picture shows what was under my bookshelf after I disassembled it
– mouse droppings —
EVERYWHERE!

Ewwwwwwwww!

You can win a $10 iTunes gift card delivered via e-mail if you are the first person to leave a comment revealing the answer to this question:

For 10 years I have written stories, many have included adventures here in the 43rd Street buiding, and many of those involved stories of mouse sightings.

What was the name I gave to the central mouse character in my stories?

Hint: the answer can be found in the archive quotes and thoughts.

Remember, you don’t need to leave your full name in the comment post. I’ll know who you are by your e-mail address. Have fun!