Patricia Pereira-Sethi
My very favourite city in the whole wide world has always been, and always will be, New York. That’s where I turned adult, where I completed graduate school, where I married, where I launched into a most fulfilling career which boosted my self-confidence and courage as a woman and a professional. It was a place where merit counted, not connections. Where I could stand up for my rights and retain my dignity, without the need to grovel at the feet of someone more powerful or wealthy.
Where I could squeeze in a Wednesday matinee show on Broadway or visit the latest exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), when the workload was light. Where I could attend a 30-minute Mass during my lunch break at St Patrick’s Cathedral, which stood adjacent to Newsweek’s office on Madison and 50th Street. Where I could sample a superb selection of scents at the Saks Fifth Avenue perfumery before rushing off to my next interview (Saks stood back-to-back with the Newsweek building). Where I could pass Robert Redford, Gregory Peck or Gabriel García Marquez on the streets of Manhattan — no fuss, no crowds, no entourage in tow, no Bollywood bluster or hysteria. You could smile at them, and they would greet you back. Normal people going about their normal business. Where I corralled a circle of close friends, who till this day are on WhatsAapp or email with me, sharing jokes, fun-filled details, recipes and photographs.
So when I read about how the pandemic has devastated that glorious city, I hunker down with a great sense of sadness. How is it possible that a vibrant, dynamic metropolis has been whipped into an eerie silence, its majestic and towering steel and glass skyscrapers virtually brought to their knees, by a vicious virus?
Before COVID struck, nearly 380,000 pedestrians would glide through the iconic Times Square area daily, a number that touched 450,000 on Saturdays. Today, the street signs still blink enthusiastically, but the footfalls have plunged drastically — by 90 per cent. A zone which normally employed 180,000 workers, provided 15 per cent of the city’s economic output, and generated $2.5 billion in tax revenue now lies fallow — and fallen. Of the 46 hotels in the vicinity, nearly 26, including the 478-room Hilton, have closed their doors. Forty-eight stores and 90 restaurants in the precinct are shuttered. Many permanently.
At Columbus Circle, pedicab bikers hunch over their handlebars staring into space; drivers snooze atop their horse-drawn carriages outside Central Park as they wait for a fare. Red tour buses continue to make daily rounds, but they are running empty past abandoned landmarks, as touts scavenge the sidewalks for local tourists. The demand for taxis and ride-app services have toppled by 71 per cent, according to the city’s Taxi and Limousine Commission.
Outside Kennedy International Airport, the long line of yellow cabs that used to rotate full throttle to meet the demand of countless passengers has disappeared. The endless queues to hail a cab have tumbled to a trickle. The number of international visitors plummeted by nearly 80 per cent this year to 18 million, compared to 80 million arrivals last year. Citizens from several countries across the world — including Britain, China and Brazil, the three most important markets for New York — cannot easily enter the USA, given the new regulations in place. International arrivals are down by 93 per cent in New York’s five regional airports: at JFK alone the number of international flights arriving daily have toppled by 70 per cent in one swift sweep.
No attraction or neighbourhood has been spared. The constant stream of tourists and the dollars they brought in have all but dried up. All major sporting and cultural events have been cancelled and Broadway remains completely dark at night: its theatres will not reopen till late next year. The global travel restrictions, introduced in March to slow the spread of the coronavirus, have pummeled the American tourism industry, taking with it the livelihoods of millions of people. Predictions indicate a 75 per cent drop in international travel spending by the end of the year, down from $155 billion in 2019.
Restaurants have been badly hit. The city’s food and beverage sector has lost nearly 200,000 jobs since March. Scores of eateries that relied on customers and tourists for a steady business have packed up. In Grand Central Terminal, more than half of the bistros and bakeries are padlocked. The classic transportation hub, which buzzed 24/7, is now so quiet one recent visitor could hear the sparrows chirping on the ceiling grids. The Grand Central Oyster Bar recently opened its indoor dining space at a 25 per cent capacity, but few came. Confronted by a double-whammy: a virus running rampant and the patron’s desire not to splurge limited funds on eating out.
The real estate industry has weathered an unparalleled economic collapse, which will reshape the public housing system and an overbuilt luxury condominium market. One in five New York City tenants did not pay their rent in September and there is growing concern about an eviction tsunami. As apartment vacancies climb, sale prices and rents are sinking: most affluent residents have already sought refuge in the suburbs. Major companies are downsizing and fewer people are commuting, setting the stage for a new algorithm in personal and business priorities. The outlook is daunting and the road to recovery appears harsh, long and steep.
But through it all, several experts predict that New York will eventually bounce back — as it always has in the past. This was a city which resurrected after 9/11, resilient and resolute; which tamed riots and street violence, unbending and unbowed; which successfully countered an economic bust on Wall Street in 2008 to stretch upwards once more for the sky. Thus giving credence to the words of Frank Sinatra’s lyrical tribute to the celebrated Big Apple:
“Gonna make a brand new start of it in old New York.
And if I can make it there, I’m gonna make it anywhere.
It’s up to you, New York, New York!!”
