Shopping Spree During New York Strike

Press, Volume CV, Issue 30961, 18 January 1966, Page 2

Shopping Spree During New York Strike

(By AINSLIE SHELTON) A New Zealander tripped lightly in elegant but vicious shoes across rush-hour Manhattan, dragging a heavy suitcase during New York’s crippling transport strike. And she had the time of her life.

The test —walking a mile across town —was pretty acid, but it was all I needed to pass for a week of fun. And it was fun in spite of deep foreboding. A previous introduction to New A ork had been dismal, and history seemed about to repeat itself as the train ground to a halt in the wrong station.

“Very sorry, lady,” the kindly policeman said as I emerged at the right exit on the third attempt. “I doubt if you'll find a taxi.” The hotel address drew even more sympathy as he took stock of my heavy suitcase and Italian shoes that were not made for walking. “It's at least a mile away,” he called as I moved off.

After soaking gratefully all my tortured muscles at the hotel, I set out for my first appointment at a shoe store. It had to be. There were not any sensible shoes in the heavy suitcase. That was when the effects of the strike on New York came sharply into focus. The strained faces moving past on the footpaths belonged to people who cared nothing for the plantitive pleas to buy at drastically reduced prices. They were workers, whose only thoughts were to get to the office and then, somehow, get home again. Silent Stores Big stores and little dangled their bait in vain. In Macy's I suffered momentary panic, thinking it had closed leaving me inside. Where were the sales assistants, the staff? Some were there to help the few fortunates who could afford to spend time shopping, but most had either given up

trying to reach work, or had already left for home again. From the escalators one could scan a strangely silent trading area, watched only by the forlorn leftovers of the Christmas toys.

In many places businesses were closed. But the smaller stores were desperately trying to attract buyers with signs proclaiming: “AU goods half price.” Sometimes they added: “We have to pay staff.” For me. it was like a gigantic shopping spree open only to a privileged few. Although their admission charges remained constant, Broadways shows were also anxious for patronage. It was the visitor’s delight to stroll in at curtain time and get good seats. A comedy could be enjoyed under the best conditions. That loud, prolonged laughter which obliterates half the words, was only an echo of its usual strength. Stayed in Hotels

Many secretaries and office workers whom their bosses considered “indispensible” were booked into hotels. Whether the boss said: “We need you,” and booked you into a hotel became a vital issue. The news brought a glow of pride and shimmer of excitement to the chosen,

who looked forward to living it up on the firm, while the less fortunate turned their thoughts once more to the wearisome sidewalk-pounding and an examination of “Why not me?”

“I dont really like this at all,” one pert young miss said, a trifle too emphatically, as she sat sipping prettily in one of the plushest hotels. “But I have to stay here because my boss can’t do without me.” Other girls were more impressed by their fortune as they milled around foyers and dining rooms, chattering excitedly. Even the choice of hotel became a status symbol. “Oh, aren’t you lucky,” a young secretary cried enviously. “I wanted to stay at one of the nice hotels, but my boss left it too late. He could only get met into one on 44th street.’’ For some visitors, who had to be in New York on business, hotels offered no sanctuary from the crowded footpaths. Dining rooms in hotels ' were filled to capacity by companies which took over complete floors for their staff. One woman tip-toeing into a meeting 90 minutes late whispered indignantly: “I couldn’t get served at breakfast.” In my case the service was excellent, although the hotel faced the burden of housing the fiery Transport Union leader, Mike Quill, his negotiators and hordes of reporters and photographers. Made A Fortune

One or two New Yorkers, who had to pay dearly for taxis, announced sourly that cabbies were making a fortune. But there were plenty of tales about helpfulness. To set off two hours and a half early for my train back to Montreal seemed reasonable, but again I was lucky. The taxi screeched to a stop after only 10 minutes. Three people emerged and I scrambled in with two others, who shared the New Yorkers’ genuine concern for the welfare of visitors to the city. This same attitude was reflected by the taxi driver, who anxiously asked passengers how long they had been waiting and added: “Gee, that’s bad.” One woman jumped in so excitedly she knocked her spectacles into the gutter.

I left New York amid comments of: “I hope your stay wasn't too bad.” On the contrary, it was most enjoyable.