March 14, 1977, 40 years ago today, only it was a Monday not a Tuesday, I emerged from the Conrail train, now called Metro-North, from New Haven at Grand Central Terminal, took the escalator up into the Pan Am, now called MetLife, Building, followed the throng as it marched through the eastern corridor of the New York General, now called the Helmsley, Building and walked briskly up Park Avenue past the Waldorf-Astoria, St. Bartholomew’s Church and the Seagram Building with the iconic Four Seasons and Brasserie restaurants flanking, respectively, its southern and northern sides, until I arrived at 425 Park Avenue occupying the full block between East 55th and East 56th streets. Across Park Avenue I had passed equally renowned structures, the historic and landmarked Racquet and Tennis Club and Lever House. I took the elevator to the sixth floor to begin a 32-year career at Lebhar-Friedman, publisher back then of Nation’s Restaurant News, my first year’s assignment, and still publisher of Chain Store Age, my professional home for the following 31 years.
After deducting weekends, vacations, and travel days for those 32 years, I figure I walked up and down Park Avenue more than 12,000 times, never once considering 425 Park Avenue as anything more than my home-away-from-home for eight or nine hours Mondays through Fridays. Never once did I wonder how 425 Park Avenue fit into the development pattern of one of the great boulevards of Manhattan. To me, 425 Park Avenue was just a destination, the finish line for the secret races I fast-walked every day with other pedestrians oblivious to their inclusion in my mind game.
I would pick out businessmen—yes, I mostly raced against men, partly because there were more imaginary competitors to choose from and partly because if a woman was not wearing athletic shoes it was too much of a disadvantage to her to compete in heels. I’d pick out someone usually about half a block ahead of me. As long as I kept them in the dark about our race I felt the least I could do was provide them a head start to the finish line.
My rivals and I were not trudging along. We weren’t shuffling off to work or slinking back home. We were intent on crossing against the light if it meant getting to work, or the train back home, faster.
Those walks, usually accomplished at the fastest pace I could maintain, were the best parts of my work day. With no interruptions during those 10-12 minute jaunts in the morning, I would think about the upcoming day’s tasks. The trek back to Grand Central provided the contemplative freedom to think through new editorial or marketing projects.
My three decades-long walk up and down Park Avenue provided personal evidence of global warming. I would be so cold during the first decade I wound up buying a Neoprene face mask to keep warm. I never used to wear a hat, but I soon bought a Russian-style rabbit fur hat at the now defunct B. Altman’s in White Plains. By the time I retired I had retired the rabbit as well as the face mask, only sometimes donning a baseball hat and earmuffs to keep warm.
Lebhar-Friedman no longer has office space at 425 Park Avenue. No one does. In 2015 the owners of the 30-story building began a massive renovation to transform it into a modern 47-story structure, a quite fitting future for a building once considered a trendsetter when it opened in 1957. 425 Park Avenue and the architects who designed it, Kahn & Jacobs, were prominent players in a fascinating history of skyscraper development in Manhattan.
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