Graffiti and Pavarotti: What The Penney’s People Will Miss Most About New York

When JCPenney Co. recently announced that it will move its corporate headquarters from New York City to the Dallas area, many of the future Texans reacted as though they were being deported to Estonia, New York officials took offense at the flight of yet another corporation from the city. Alair Townsend, deputy mayor of New York for finance and economic development and chief spoilsport, commented peevishly in The Dallas Morning News: “One thing that occurs to me is that when I wake up next year, I will still be in New York, and where will they be? They will be in-yuck-Dallas.” It was not immediately clear why Townsend planned to sleep until next year.

What was certain was that many of the affected workers shared her sentiments. Carl Litsinger, a veteran New Yorker and products testing engineer for JCPenney, when advised that North Texas is hot, flat, and treeless, told the Morning News, “I’m aware of that and it’s frightening.”

The security of claustrophobia isn’t all the Penney’s employees will have to forgo when they leave The Big Apple. Here are some more of the city’s attractions they’ll miss:



Transportation Roulette-The new Texans will lose the privilege of choosing among equally unpleasant modes of transport. No more subways where the trick is to avoid getting caught in a crossfire between the muggers and Bernhard Goetz. No more searching in vain for a taxicab that is not “Off Duty” or on “Radio Call.”

Now, the new Texans will drive their own cars. For the native | New Yorker, cars can be distinguished from subways because they rarely have graffiti spray-painted on their sides, from taxis because there is no bulletproof partition to keep the passenger | from dismembering the driver, and from limos because the “wet bar” in a Texas car is a styrofoam ice chest.

Afghan Refugee Cab Drivers-Today every cab driver in New YorkCity is an Afghan refugee. I really believed the first driver whotold me about his trek over the mountains into Pakistan, eventhough his story sounded remarkably similar to the plot of TheSound of Music. I rewarded his flight-for-freedom tale handsomely. After I had heard the exact same story from three other drivers, I figured either all these guys had escaped together or, more likely. I had been suckered.

Gestapo Waitresses-In February, 1 stopped in a New York deli for a quick breakfast. Ten minutes went by and so did the waitress, never acknowledging my existence. Finally, I caught her attention by sticking my fool out in front of her and asking to see a menu. With that distinctive Joan Rivers nasal twang, the Beast of Bagel Nosh snapped: “Can’t you see I’m busy waiting on my customers?” I wondered: what am I-table decor?

Pavarotto-Once, when a New York friend was pontificating on the glories of the New York cultural scene. I asked her about the last time she had actually gone to the opera. She replied: ’Oh, I never go myself. It’s such a hassle to get there and the ticket prices are prohibitive. Still, it’s nice to know it’s there and someone’s going.” What she did not know is that only four people ever attend the opera in New York: Lee Iacocca, who earned $20 million last year; Ivan Boesky, who used to go and exchange notes with David Levine; and Jim Bakker, who sits alone in the balcony during performances of Salome.

The displaced New Yorkers can take comfort from the fact that, if they just can’t adjust to lower taxes, friendly people, and wide-open spaces, they can always go home. As Robert Frost observed: “Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.”