Downtown Guy
Billy Joel forever owns the term Downtown Guy from his song Uptown Girl, which many Billy Joel aficionados consider one of his less great and more bubble gum songs. I was more of a fan of it than others, but no one has ever accused me of having refined taste in music. At least they haven’t once they find out I’m a big Meatloaf fan.
So it is with some apology to Billy that I declare myself a Downtown Guy. My career was spent both uptown (Park Avenue and 48th) and downtown (mostly BT Plaza at 130 Liberty Street until WTC2 cut an eighteen story gash in the building when it toppled to the ground in 2001). Then after a downtown stint on 12th Street, I went back to midtown at Madison & 46th. Mostly I have worked south of there since then. As for living arrangements, my apartments over thirty years since I moved in from the suburbs have been, in this order, Battery Park City, Tudor City, Union Square, Madison Square Park, Gramercy Park, South Street Seaport and now firmly in FiDi. I have steadfastly avoided living in the traditional Upper West Side or Upper East Side so favored by the Central Park-loving crowd.
There are lots of circumstances that give rise to this tendency, but it would be anathema for me to live north of, say, 42nd Street at this stage of life. There comes a time in life when you go one direction or another. My dear friends the Bernsteins (not unlike Woody Allen’s famous friends the Berkowitzs, who were prominent in the NYAC long before the Son of Sam killings) are the quintessential New Yorkers who started life in New York in an apartment on 17th Street above the then famous location of Barney’s men’s store (a vestige at the edge of the old Ladies’ Mile shopping district of New York). They moved from there to the Upper West Side in the ‘80’s around Columbus, and recently, after years in their co-op, have opted to trend even further north into Harlem. I, on the other hand have continued to drift south.
North of 110th Street and South of 34th Street are not so very different in the sense that they are less affluent and more diverse, though few would argue that there aren’t noticeable pockets of opulence in either extreme. I think it’s mostly about being apart from the mainstream banker/lawyer/doctor set. When I lived in Park City, Utah, I stayed away from Deer Valley proper. Now that I have a home in San Diego, you can bet I’m not in either Rancho Santa Fe or La Jolla. If I was in Florida, I would go nowhere near Palm Beach. There is something in my make-up that shuns the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Truthfully, it is less about their lifestyles and more about their people and politics that I tend to eschew.
I am fairly sure that when most people see me they see a Republican. I’m tall and thick around the waist (I’m being extremely kind to myself) and my years of banking have left me this style of dress which is at best described as business casual. My tailor (don’t judge me, I’m too big to buy off the rack) is always trying to make me more snazzy than I like. He wants me to dress in Garment District Casual style. I don’t think would change my look too much, but it would make me feel much more self-conscious. But in my head I am 100% downtown to the point where I find myself simply not liking the uptown world.
There are many possible psychological reasons for my disdain for the elite and exclusive world that I call uptown (please recognize that I know there is only a band of Manhattan that qualifies for this exclusivity). While some would suggest that if I had all the money in the world I would be equally snooty, that is simply not the case. When I have gotten my big eight figure payouts (I am embarrassed somewhat to say that I have so little left in my pocket of that, but then I deduct taxes add the balance sheets of my two ex-wives and I feel better about it and then worse and then OK again about it), I have NOT chosen to become an Uptown Guy, either in physical location, club memberships or mental positioning. I was raised in a Bohemian home and that shit doesn’t just wear off over time, it sticks to you like gum on your shoe. Mom was a UN development diplomat so eclectic was a way of life for us. She would buy a new Thunderbird because it appealed to her and then we would live in a $100/month rented rat-trap of a house in Poland Spring, Maine that got new wall-to-wall carpeting to make it livable. In prehistoric days, we would have been the family that nomadically moved its belongings every season based on the weather or the herds.
I still move with great facility. But when I move, it is like a military operation, it happens swiftly, with precision and I am settled in within minutes. No lingering over memories or contemplating where to hang pictures. In and out, pure and simple. I view all offices as mere tools of the job. I view all houses and apartments as cozy spots for the moment. When I am faced with tough times, I always envision hitting the road as the ultimate salvation to the situation. Some dig a hole and crawl in to hide, while I run as far and as fast as I can. It’s all very primal. Downtown Guys tend to operate out of their cerebellums where Uptown Guys are Cerebrum guys. FYI, fraternity guys go even deeper into pure cortex and brain stem maneuvers.
Nowadays I live in the financial district and I work in the financial district. I find it a pleasant place to be for many reasons. It is approximately a $25-35 cab ride to anything else going on in the city. The good news is that with Uber, Lyft and Curb, there is always availability of transport. In a pinch there are also several subway lines nearby. I have become too lazy and communications-dependent to go underground very often. My wife forces me to do that once in a while to stay real. So, I find myself being too choosy about what I will go uptown for and it is starting to feel a bit like a schlep. I guess it’s just getting to be that time when downtown turns into lazytown and that means San Diego to me, where the living is easy and the schleps are mostly by Tesla. I’ll have to email Billy Joel and see if he wants to write a sequel.
Downtown boy
He’s been living in his downtown world
I bet he’s never had a subway ride
I bet his mama never told him why
I’m gonna try for an uptown girl
I’ve been living in this everything bagel world
As long as anyone without a hot tub can
And now I’m looking for an Uber van…. Etc. etc.
I am aware of that you lived in many places in your youth Rich because of your mother moving so often to help numerous people. I envy your many adventures. After Cornell, NYC appears to be at the top of your ‘where you called home’ list but, with my lack of knowledge about your places in Ithaca and San Diego, which is second or third, I have no clue.
I grew up in suburbia. Born and raised until I went to college in a great town, Ridgewood, NJ. (I know, I know, New Jersey? What exit?). My house bordered a large area of woods with a stream. It was ‘green space’ that towns have to have because of some law equating it proportionately to the size of the school population. What’s the connection, I haven’t a clue. But, unlike yourself, no Myans or Incas had lived there, though I did futilely look for dinosaur bones and fossils. It was still a great playground if not a treasure trove. However, as I lay in bed in bed at night, I could hear the sounds of NYC which was only 10 miles away. The trains, foghorns in the harbor and other noises I couldn’t discern, called to me and I was going to live there some day and travel too. Marriage wasn’t in my plans. I was a wannabe George Bailey.
What a surprise! I did get lured into marriage anyway! Best laid plans….. I am behind you again with you leading three to my one (for now). Please don’t tell Mary Jane that joke.
Other than college, I lived in Harrison, NY (Westchester County) . There were miles of woods behind me again although by that age motorcycles held my interest more.
Then I bought a business and house in Monroe, NY that kept me pretty much glued to one spot. My commute was 4 miles. I raised my family there and lived in the same house for almost 40 years. I know your wanderlust would have been chafing Rich. Once again there were woods behind my house that stretched for many miles. Wild turkeys, foxes and deer passed through my yard. I had a rather large bear as a neighbor too. Sometimes it came meandering through my yard but, even though my screened in porch only separated me from it by eight feet, the bear only turned it’s head in total disinterest and continued on. I was snubbed by a bear!!
For about seven years I did own a condo in Boston, a condo in Florida and my Monroe abode. My daughter was going to Tufts Medical School which is in downtown Boston and the place was convenient. An investment as well. She paid rent (the mortgage) that was less than half the going rents, and it had a PARKING SPACE! If you know Boston, you know what a blessing that is. It was located in the historic section known as ‘Back Bay’. I really like Boston and wanted to keep that place to use as a summer home. You could walk everywhere from it. But after she graduated and moved, renting it out was a pain. I offered it to my youngest son (he couldn’t have afforded it if we hadn’t owned it) and he literally got mad at me! He would never ever live in the city that was where the Boston Red Sox were! Not high on my priority list of concerns about where to live, though it was too horrible to consider in his book.
I now live in Florida with the Gulf of Mexico as my front yard and the intracoastal as my back. There is no forrest but I know my tree-climbing days behind me anyway. The sunsets are worth it alone. The warm weather doesn’t hurt either.
I never made it to NYC. Like George Bailey, my life took an entirely different path than I expected. I’m not sorry about it, quite the opposite, as he realizes in the end. Though I do, and I think we all do, wonder sometimes what our lives would have been like if we made a slightly different turn at some nexus in our past.
I know my vision is a long shot, but if Heaven exists, I hope it has a tremendous library where I could look up the answers to such questions and so much more. I am not so optimistic that Hell has one.
Hoping that a bell rings someplace and I get my wings, goodbye for now from Florida.
Lonnie,
I trust you use George Bailey as your model for the right reasons and not because of what he didn’t get to do in life. You have had a long and solid marriage (which is never to be taken lightly…it is what I wish for all of my children). You have sired and raised three successful children who enjoy spending time with one another and are all very intelligent and thoughtful people (all that anyone can hope for their children other than simple happiness). You have a fine place of warmth to live out your days, enjoy the sunset (literally and figuratively) and the time to pursue your interests in reading and seeking knowledge. The older I get the more I sense that you have 99.9% of everything of value there is to accumulate in life. Add to that, you are a humble and thoughtful man, which is well worth applauding. Think of me and my writings and musings as a lesser version of you that is trying to come to peace with myself and my situation in ways that you have already achieved.
Dear Rich,
Upon re-reading my reply, the thoughts I was trying to express were about things just as they happened in my case. I have to apologize since I can now see how what I wrote could be taken as a lament. That was an oversight because of telling a tale I know so well, mine, and not taking into account not everyone is tuned to my wavelength. Yes, I see George Bailey and myself as having successful lives, just different than planned during the naivety of youth. I have always seen ‘Its A Wonderful Life’ as a happy movie even though so much of it is about his disappointments and setbacks. I tried to use him as a whimsical metaphor. I guess I didn’t pull it off, did I ? I never meant to imply that I have always been or am now unhappy with my life. Quite the opposite. A few more aches and pains maybe I could do without, however I honestly can say that I never wanted to trade what I have for someone else’s, particularly not Richard Cory. I appreciate your compliments and I agree with your assessment which, from my perception, applies to you also. I am proud and happy of most everything I did and have.
I really was trying to be humorous by my comparison of your attitude expressed toward areas of the city and getting to places with how I didn’t seemingly move around much most of my life. Not to sound regretful.
To everyone who reads this blog and also slogs through my tomes. I like to read Rich’s’ posts and reply to or comment on them. I agree some, disagree some, relate some. I am enjoying reviving lesser used synapses with the mental exercise of writing again. I see that I usually use a lot of words to do so because, one of his most common subjects knows so many words that he is letting me use the overflow. I include many book references and quotes from people, TV, music and movies, twists of phrases and more because I grew up in a family where arguing was a sport. Just as in the British Parliament, a good joke could win the day. I’m not claiming my jokes are always funny, just plentiful. If anything I write offends anyone or seems to, please accept my sincerest apologies and believe me when I say I would never do so intentionally. That last line is absolutely serious. This next one isn’t. This is a legal disclaimer that applies retroactively and to all future comments I give. Cross my heart.