Today I am reminded of simpler times when the sun is seductively warming the streets of New York and the more informally attired workers are moving a bit slower than usual. I never grew up in New York City, but I am a native New Yorker by way of Staten Island. Not many people took us seriously in the "forgotten borough" even in those days. Or especially in those days.
I did work in New York City as a temporary secretary, moving from place to place throughout the Wall Street area. It was very exciting stuff between college semesters. I would take the venerable Staten Island Ferry every morning, and it really did seem like a cruise ship with accompanying balmy breezes on the outer deck where I invariably sat in the morning and evening.
There are a lot of tourists speaking multiple languages filling these decks now. I don't recall a single foreign accent when I joined my fellow commuters on the elegant mahogany boats painted red outside and that departed at 7:10 AM during my summer forays between semesters. I do remember the uniform of the day for men: seersucker suit, buttoned-down shirt, tie, and the Staten Island Advance or the New York Times tucked under one arm. For women, no navels were in sight. White gloves finished off my discrete dresses, but this was more my Catholic school discipline showing. I do remember my impeccable white gloves touching the pole in the stifling, un-air conditioned subway, where it was unthinkable to remove them, no matter how hot the temperature rose. Come to think of it, that was a good thing.
For the most part, we are happily beyond men wearing suits and ties in the hazy, hot and humid summer months, though Wall Streeters did seem to favor $4000 Armanis just until about a year ago. That would cause scornful looks today, as young executives refuse to wear anything approaching the Gordon Gecko look now. Either that, or they are unemployed and are wearing shorts and tee shirts on the way to the gym.
On a positive note, the Staten Island Ferry terminal has undergone a serious transformation recently. It is immaculately clean with stunning views of the downtown skyline of Manhattan, all soaring glass and sleek silver. The terminal also houses two beautiful 1000 ton aquariums with rare tropical fish. A playful touch. Nice.
It is very surprising to me that Staten Island remains financially independent enough to dismiss any need for visitors to subsidize the expense of the Ferry. If it were up to me, I would make every tourist pay at least $1.00 for the round trip fare. Whoever heard of a free boat ride anywhere in this world? It's not as if the tourists ever venture forth to see the Greenbelt hiking trails, the Tibetan Museum, or all the great restaurants. Nor do they go to my favorite, the Boardwalk. I always head there with my mom and Tess, her rescue dog, when I visit Staten Island as a Manhattanite who never quite lost her ties to this historical and cultural island.
After the Verrazano Bridge arrived and dominated the commuter scene, you couldn't play "Who Do You Know?". This involved mostly giving an Italian, Irish or Polish name to someone and finding out the six degrees of separation between you and them. I don't ever remember getting on the Staten Island Ferry without seeing someone I knew in those days. It was that kind of an island, and that kind of a nautical adventure.
So while Staten Island thrives in new and exciting developments, I am left with sweet memories of a simple childhood that smacked of sophistication just a boat ride away, but also provided a countrified aspect that has gone the way of the old red ferryboats.
