Following his recent win in the Kansas caucuses, Rick Santorum told his supporters: “Because you don’t live in New York City. You don’t live in Los Angeles. You live like most Americans in between those two cities, and you know the values you believe in.”

By Paul Hicks

 

Following his recent win in the Kansas caucuses, Rick Santorum told his supporters: “Because you don’t live in New York City. You don’t live in Los Angeles. You live like most Americans in between those two cities, and you know the values you believe in.”

 

Translating the coded message, Santorum was warning those in the innocent heartland of America to avoid the corrupting influences of Tinseltown to the West and Sin City to the East.

 

Fortunately, many millions of “heartlanders” have been to the Big Apple in recent years to enjoy the “Lion King” and other delights and know how safe and family-friendly New York is these days.

 

As I thought about how safe and uncorrupting a place New York has been (with a few exceptions) throughout my l life, I recalled some highlights in my lifetime fascination with the city. It all started with a performance of the Rogers and Hammerstein musical “Oklahoma” in 1943. Thanks to a family connection with a member of the original cast we even got a chance to go backstage after the performance.

 

As great as my first Broadway theater experience was, I have to admit that at age 8 I was equally floored by the whole Times Square scene. The most amazing sight was the giant Camel Cigarettes smoking billboard. It towered over the corner of 44th Street and Broadway from 1941 to 1966.

 

Steam was forced out of a hole in the sign every four seconds, making it appear that the man on the billboard was blowing smoke rings. Despite that spectacular achievement by the clever Camel advertisers, the first cigarette I smoked (at age 12) was an Old Gold, because they sponsored my favorite baseball team, the Brooklyn Dodgers.

 

Some ventures into New York City were for more prosaic purposes, such as buying a blue serge suit to wear at Miss Covington’s dancing classes (held at the Apawamis Club). My pre-teen shape classified me sartorially as “husky,” and since local stores did not carry my size, my mother and I headed into New York to shop at Barneys.

 

It is funny to see the current-day flagship store of Barneys on Madison Avenue with all its luxury brands catering to affluent adults. What a contrast with the original store owned and operated for years by Barney Pressman at Seventh Avenue and 17th Street. It had a big sign that said: “No Bunk, No Junk, No Imitations.”

 

To compensate for enduring the ordeals of shopping, I was treated to lunch at one of the Horn & Hardart Automats, a chain of unique cafeterias that featured food selections displayed behind small glass windows. Each item was obtainable by inserting the exact number of coins into a slot. It made egg salad sandwiches taste delicious and was the best kind of fast food.

 

When my tastes outgrew cafeteria cooking, my restaurant of choice in the city was Hamburger Heaven, a small chain that predated McDonalds or Burger King and was in a much classier league. Alas, like the Automat, it no longer exists. One other foodie fan recalled that its “genuinely heavenly burgers were served by a beaming chef in a towering toque along with bowls of relishes…and airy layer cakes.”

 

To complete the rites of passage and come of age as a true New Yorker in the by-gone days, you had to arrange to meet a date under the clock at the late lamented Biltmore Hotel, located next door to Grand Central Station. From there it all depended on how much money you had in your pocket.

 

When cash was low, we would take a subway to Chinatown for dinner and afterwards walk down to the tip of Manhattan. There we would board a ferry to Staten Island (round-trip fare was 25 cents each in those days). What could be more romantic (and economic), and New York seemed ever so safe and wholesome each step of the way.