The heat wave continued as we left Cassie’s apartment at 8:00am on Wednesday July 19, 2017. We made the two-block walk to the subway station and caught the ‘F’ train back into Manhattan. But on that day, however, we had to switch trains at Rockefeller Center. My photographer and his wife found navigating the subway system quite easy as maps were readily available and very handy. They also found the people in New York City were a lot friendlier than the folks in New Haven, Connecticut and the New Yorkers answered any questions that Tom and Vicki had when they needed help.
Once we switched trains in mid-town Manhattan, we rode the ‘B’ train to the 125th Street Station. Above ground, we walked roughly three-quarters of a mile west to get to our first sight of the day – the General Grant National Memorial. When Tom and Vicki exited the subway station at street level, they didn’t realize that they were less than two blocks from the Apollo Theater. They also didn’t know, and maybe it was a good thing they didn’t know, that they were in a section of Harlem. In New York, Harlem is likely just another neighborhood – a lot of good people, and a few bad. But for Michiganders, just the word “Harlem” strikes fear in anyone who hears it. As they started their lengthy early morning hike, I did hear my photographer tell his wife: “I know it’s hot, but let’s keep up a good walking pace so we can get out of this area as fast as possible. I don’t exactly feel very safe here, even though it’s only nine o’clock in the morning.”
The three of us arrived at the General Grant National Memorial at 9:10am and we were ready to see the tomb of President Ulysses S. Grant and his wife Julia. I was thrilled for the chance to see my 27th Presidential gravesite, but it was at that moment when we were given the news: “Due to a lack of rangers today, the tomb will not open until 9:30”. Even though my photographer was initially upset, I thought to myself it could’ve been a whole lot worse. They could’ve told us that the tomb was closed for the entire day, and that would have thrown a wrench into our itinerary. A twenty-minute delay was something I knew we could live with, plus it gave us time to capture the exterior shots without many people in the way.
At precisely 9:30am, a ranger opened the door to Grant’s Tomb and I was carried up the steps and into the memorial. Once inside, we walked up to a low, circular marble wall where I had my first view of the red granite sarcophagi of Ulysses and Julia Grant that were one level below us in the atrium. From our vantage-point, I could see the names of Grant and his wife that were etched into the top of both sarcophagi. President Grant died from throat cancer on July 23, 1885 at the age of 63. Grant’s body was placed in a temporary tomb shortly after his death and it remained there until April 17, 1897 when his remains were transferred into the General Grant National Memorial. When Julia Grant died in 1902 at the age of 76, her body was placed into the sarcophagus next to her husband’s. The pictures that my photographer had captured high above the atrium were cool, but once again, he wanted better. Tom’s goal was to get me closer to the President and his wife, so he carried me down a set of steps and into the atrium where we stood alongside the large, granite sarcophagi. As I stood there smiling for the camera, I thought to myself: “I now know the answer to the age-old riddle ‘Who’s buried in Grant’s Tomb?’ The correct answer is no one!”
It was almost 10:00am when we left Grant’s Tomb and began an eleven-block walk to the corner of Broadway and 112th Street. For my rotund photographer, the one-mile hike in the heat was brutal; but when we arrived at Tom’s Restaurant, just the sight of that famous diner made the misery all seem worthwhile. During the entire nine-year run of Seinfeld, from 1989 to 1998, Tom’s Restaurant was the stand-in for the exterior shots of Monk’s Café where Jerry and his friends frequently gathered to solve the world’s problems. Even though I was excited as we went inside the diner because Barack Obama frequented Tom’s when he was a student at nearby Columbia University, it was still a bit disappointing to me; mainly because the interior looked nothing like it did on the TV show. I laughed to myself when my photographer received the bill for his and Vicki’s breakfast; it turned out to be a very expensive morning meal. “This isn’t very realistic because there’s no way in hell George Castanza would pay that much money for a breakfast.”
My photographer, along with his wife, had hoofed-it nearly two miles that morning while the thermometer exceeded 90 degrees. The next entry on the agenda, which was a Presidential site, was six-and-a-half miles away and there was no way that my cameraman was going to walk that far – not even to save subway fare. He carried me for roughly two blocks until we found the Cathedral Parkway Station. Once again Vicki secured the tickets and the three of us rode the ‘1’ train to the 18th Street Station; which put us within a few blocks of Theodore Roosevelt’s birthplace.
I was carried to the historic five-story brownstone on East 20th Street where Teddy Roosevelt was born on October 27, 1858; or at least he was born in a house that was on that same spot. It turned out that Roosevelt’s father, Theodore Sr., moved his family to a mansion near Central Park when young “Teedie” was 13-years old. Although the birthplace house was transformed into a store in 1896, the building was demolished to make way for a two-story retail building in 1916. Three years later TR died and the Roosevelt family bought the store and had it refurbished back into the brownstone with an original 1865 look.
After Tom captured a handful of photographs of me in front of the historic birthplace site, I was carried inside where we visited five period rooms, two museum galleries, and the ever-present bookstore and gift shop. While we waited for our tour-time, my photographer brought me into the museum where I posed near a handful of very cool and historic artifacts. One artifact was the shirt Roosevelt was wearing when he was shot by a would-be assassin’s bullet in Milwaukee, Wisconsin on October 14, 1912. Although the shirt was reputed to be the one Roosevelt was wearing when he was shot, I didn’t see a bullet hole and there was also no apparent blood stain. Near the shirt, in the same display case, was Roosevelt’s glasses case and the 50-page speech, with bullet hole, that saved his life. When deranged saloonkeeper John Flammang Schrank pulled the trigger on his .38-caliber Colt revolver and shot former President Roosevelt, the bullet went through his twice-folded 50-page speech, pierced his metal glasses case, and lodged in the muscle tissue of his chest. Shortly after the incident, Roosevelt delivered his 90-minute speech as blood seeped into his shirt. In a true-test of Teddy’s toughness and stubbornness, Roosevelt opened the speech by saying: “Ladies and gentlemen, I don’t know whether you fully understand that I have just been shot, but it takes more than that to kill a Bull Moose.” Now that’s a bad-ass!
We had to wait roughly 45 minutes before our tour of the house started, which was okay with my photographer and his wife because the museum was air conditioned and both of them welcomed the opportunity to be out of the mid-morning heat. When our tour of Roosevelt’s birthplace finally got underway, I could immediately detect that the NPS ranger was trying to rush us through the place. We had roughly a dozen people in our group, which made it difficult for my photographer to capture images of me without others in the photo. What complicated matters as well, was the ranger constantly reminded everyone not to lag back to get their pictures; as soon as he was finished speaking in one room, he moved our group to the next room.
There were five rooms that we had visited during our tour, but the two that I enjoyed the most were the library and the Master bedroom where Roosevelt was born. As a youth, young “Teedie” was a sickly child who suffered from debilitating asthma, which forced him to stay indoors a lot of the time. He loved reading in that library, although he once said the room had gloomy respectability. Situated alongside the library’s fireplace was a small, red velvet-covered chair. It turned out that the velvet chair was his favorite; as the other furniture in the room were covered in horsehair, which scratched his legs.
The highlight for me in the reconstructed birthplace was the Master bedroom where the future 26th President took his first breaths of air. The large, ornate bed was the authentic birth bed and it was situated in the same spot as it was when Roosevelt was born. As others gathered around the bed to get a closer look, my cameraman waited for his turn to capture an image of me next to the historic piece of furniture. I knew that my photographer was trying his best to set me on the birth bed, but the “Old Eagle Eyes” ranger wouldn’t let us out of his sight. I managed to pose for two photos, but those were captured hurriedly as the impatient ranger insisted that we kept up with the group. Outwardly, Tom seemed to keep his composure during the tour; but I felt that a COBS flareup was due at any moment. The Roosevelt birthplace was a very cool place to visit, but our experience was dampened by the speed we were rushed through. Perhaps someday Tom will bring me back to that home in the off-season where we won’t be treated like a herd of cattle on the way to the slaughterhouse.
Following the whirlwind express tour of Roosevelt’s birthplace, it was time to make our way on foot towards Rockefeller Center where we had tickets for the ‘Late Night with Seth Meyers’ show. My photographer wanted to be at NBC Studios no later than 3:30pm, even though we weren’t allowed through check-in and security until 4:30pm. Although we had a two-mile walk through the concrete jungle of Mid-town Manhattan, we had well over two hours to make the trek – an easy feat even in the heat. As we made our way along Fifth Avenue over to Broadway, we saw a couple of New York City’s landmark buildings – the Flatiron Building and the Empire State Building. We also made our way into a building that Vicki had wanted to see – Macy’s Department Store. On that day, the miracle on 34th Street was getting out of the heat for a few minutes; and also finding the store’s restrooms.
By 2:30pm we had made our way to Times Square; and not surprisingly, so had thousands of other people. As we stood in the vicinity of One Times Square, the building where the New Year’s Eve ball drops each year to signal the new year, we saw a famous fixture of Times Square – The Naked Cowboy. The cowboy’s real name is Robert John Burck and he wears only a cowboy hat, a pair of cowboy boots, white briefs, and a smile. Oh, and he plays the guitar as well. My photographer asked his wife to pose for a photo with the Naked Cowboy, and she politely declined. As Tom was snapping a quick image of the cowboy, he noticed two scantily clad women in the background who seemed to be wearing only body paint that covered their ‘goods’. When the two “body artists” saw my cameraman, they surrounded the poor sap and insisted they pose for a photo with him. When things seemed to be going from bad to worse, it was at that moment when Tom handed Vicki the camera and asked her to snap a quick image of the event for posterity. Unbeknownst to my photographer, his wife wasn’t overly thrilled by the photoshoot opportunity; and she became even more agitated when Tom handed one of the girls a ten-dollar bill. “You paid them money for that? Are you out of your flippin’ mind?” Needless to say, the rest of the walk to Rockefeller Center was rather quiet between the two of them. As a matter of fact, it seemed to me that Vicki kept a good gap between herself and my camera guy; her body language made it perfectly clear to both of us that she was peeved.
It was about a three-block walk to NBC Studios, which was alongside the famous ‘Top of the Rock’ building. The three of us went inside the complex to cool-off and to kill some time; it also proved to be the time when the “Silent Treatment” had expired. To me, our early arrival was overkill; that was until I heard my photographer say to his wife: “We needed to be one of the first ones here to help guarantee our entrance into the show. Back in 1977, when Mongo, Kruesel, and I were near the front of the line to see the taping of the “Tonight Show” with Johnny Carson in Burbank, California, we almost didn’t get into the building. Being here early might help increase our chances of getting in.”
Sure enough, at 4:30pm we entered the building, went through security, and we received our numbered ticket – which was different than the ticket that Tom had printed-off at home. After about 45 minutes of sitting in the Peacock Room, where we were entertained by some staff members, we were led into the studio and to our seats. The entire ordeal was a game of hurry-up and wait; and once again it seemed to take forever for the show to begin. But at roughly 6:30pm, Seth Meyers came from backstage and the show began. From my camera case, I snuck a peek whenever a new guest came onstage. First, I saw Queen Latifah, who was on the show to discuss her new film ‘Girls Trip’. The second guest was actress Zoe Kazan who starred in the movie ‘The Big Stick’. Finally, the last guest was an internet blogger who was the mastermind behind Boston’s ‘Barstool Sports’. His name was Dave Portnoy and he talked about an initiative for his blog where he reviews every pizza place in Manhattan in 2017.
At one point during a break in the taping, Seth Meyers walked up the aisle and into the audience where he stood very close to the three of us. For about ten minutes, the former SNL star fielded questions from the audience. I had hoped that Seth would see my face popping-out of the camera case and invite me onto his desk for an interview, but that didn’t happen. There was no doubt in my mind that my story about Presidential sites would’ve been more interesting than the discussions I heard that night. Barstool Sports? Give me a break!
At exactly 7:45pm the show was finished and we exited the studio through the gift shop; which didn’t surprise the three of us. The darkness of night had fallen over Manhattan, but it was hard to tell because of the lights in Times Square. Even at 8:00pm, Times Square was filled with people. Our goal was to find the Majestic Theater; the historic theater where we had tickets to see ‘The Phantom of the Opera’ the following afternoon. As we walked near the spot where Tom posed with the two body-paint artists earlier in the day, several characters approached Vicki for a photo-op. There was Cookie Monster, Elsa from ‘Frozen’, and Minnie Mouse – all favorites of Tom and Vicki’s granddaughter Reese. After the image was captured of the foursome, my photographer’s wife simply walked away; leaving the three characters empty-handed. “See, that’s how it’s done. I got the picture and walked away. You should’ve done the same thing earlier.” I could hear my photographer mumble to himself, careful not to let Vicki hear him: “The two women I posed with were a lot better looking than friggin’ Cookie Monster. It was the best ten bucks I spent in a while.”
A short distance from the spot where Vicki ‘stiffed’ the three cartoon characters, we found a makeshift memorial that reminded us of the troubled world that we lived in. Two months before we arrived in NYC, an 18-year old girl from Portage, Michigan was visiting Times Square with her family and was killed while standing on the sidewalk. On May 18, 2017, a U.S. Navy veteran by the name of Richard Rojas intentionally drove his car on the sidewalk for three blocks as he ploughed over pedestrians. Alyssa Elsman, from Michigan, was killed; 22 others were injured, including Alyssa’s 13-year old sister. Tom and Vicki had heard of the event when it unfolded in May, and it hit home because they knew they were headed to Times Square during the July trip. But my photographer, who at times is wise beyond his years, comforted his wife by saying: “We can’t live our lives in fear. We can’t let crap like that keep us from doing the things we enjoy. When we are in big cities like New York, or even in the small towns, we need to stay aware of our surroundings and be vigilant of everything around us.”
It wasn’t very far for the three of us to walk from Times Square to the Majestic Theater, which was good because the crowd had thinned a little once we made our way from Broadway. The Majestic Theater looked cool at night, especially with the Phantom of the Opera décor on the exterior. We only spent a few minutes outside of the theater before we began our hike to find a subway station that would get us back to Brooklyn. After asking several people for directions to the closest subway that would take us ‘home’, we finally arrived at the Bryant Park Station on the corner of West 42nd Street and Sixth Avenue.
Once we were on the ‘F’ train headed for Brooklyn, my photographer and his wife collapsed onto the train’s seat. I couldn’t blame them one bit – they had walked over five miles in the heat, plus they were hungry. When the three of us made it to the Carroll Street Station, Tom and Vicki decided to venture back to Angry Wades for a burger and a beer; and of course, some free popcorn.
It was a day to remember as I saw a Presidential tomb; a Presidential birthplace; a Queen with Seth Meyers; and of course, some boobs. I was happy that my two travel-mates were once again talking to each other. We made it back to Cassie’s brownstone around 10:15pm and I was placed back onto the wall shelf near the bed. I heard Tom ask his wife if she wanted to stay up and watch ‘The Late Show’ on television to see if we were ever shown on camera. That question went over about as well as his earlier question – “Would you snap a quick photo of the three of us?” As the lights went out and I had the entire night to think to myself, the only thing that kept popping into my head was the slogan I saw on the ‘Phantom’ sign at the Majestic Theater – ‘Let Your Fantasies Unwind’. My biggest worry, especially after his photo-op at Times Square, was whether or not my photographer would let his fantasies unwind that night. Lord help me!
