The Chanin Building

Some days, when I arrive in New York’s Grand Central Station, I partake in a ritual.

Crossing 42nd, I carefully dodge the urgency of yellow cabs and harried commuters and proceed to the Southeast corner of the street.  I enter the gilded, art deco lobby of the Chanin Building, site of my very first job. 

It never lets me down.

 If I am lucky and it is after rush hour, there are few people around. If I am very lucky, it is only me. Working quickly, I discreetly raise my phone and snap a photo of the golden lobby. A few times prior I was disciplined by an eagle eyed security guard who growled, “No pictures…!” It is a different world now.  But this time, I prevail.   

I will send the photograph to my old co-worker Irene, who worked with me in our small office in the Chanin Building for over twelve years. I have not seen her, in over forty.  Besides me, Irene is the last surviving member of our posse.  Over the years, I have sent Irene several photos of the Chanin Building lobby, the most recent one with my older son standing at my side.  No written message is ever needed. The photo alone is my way of saying I am thinking of her.

I proceed past the newsstand where I used to meet my after-work dates. “ Let’s meet at the Candy stand!” And never fail, at 5:30pm sharp, Irene and her counterpart Barbara would stroll discreetly and nonchalantly past so the next morning they could give me a nod (or not) of approval in regard to a potential new suitor.

They always looked out for me. 

I head toward the elevator bank which leads to my old office on the 12th floor.  The elevator doors etched elaborately in gold figurines are a thing of beauty.  I consider going up to my old floor, then decide against it. 

I exit the lobby of the beautiful Chanin Building on the corner of 42^nd Street and Lexington Avenue, leaving behind ghosts of a benevolent past. All in all my visit takes less than five minutes, but that is all I need. My feelings are elated and I am ready to return to present day once again as I head downtown to meet my sister for dinner.

Some find the past can be melancholy, those bygone days of younger years. But standing in the lobby of the Chanin building, it is the good times I remember. So many, they are impossible to count and I am forever grateful to those cherished people who contributed to my happiness.

I love visiting this building of my past and a shoutout to my days as a “working girl.”Though I think I will take a break before visiting again.  

“For whoso hath too much of any good, Of that same good he shall be soon bereft.”

John Lydgate, 1430, The Fall of Princes.