Dave Frishberg, the witty pianist and songwriter, wrote a funny tune: “Do You Miss New York?” The song’s conclusion is affirmative. Well, HG doesn’t miss today’s New York which seems to be dominated by oligarchs and their sycophant lackeys. What HG does miss are the long departed pleasures of an older New York. HG misses the old telephone numbers (no area codes) with their lovely exchange names: MUrrray Hill, TRafalgar, GRamercy, AUdubon, KIngsbridge, BUtterfield (John O’Hara wrote an ode to this exchange in his novel “Butterfield 8). HG misses career cabdrivers named Moe, Vito and Pat who knew every nook and cranny of the city and (sometimes) were entertaining conversationalists. HG misses the pro football players who had tough guy names. Tufffy Leemans of the Giants. Bruiser Kinard and Ace Parker of the Brooklyn Dodgers (yes, youngsters, the Brooklyn Dodgers were also an NFL team). HG misses baseball players with funny, euphonious names like Van Lingle Mungo and Kirby Higbe (the lyrics to Frishberg’s song “Van Lingle Mungo” consists solely of baseball player names). HG misses trolley cars with their yellow straw seats and leisurely pace. HG misses double decker Fifth Avenue buses with their open air seating atop. HG misses the Third Avenue El. HG misses the secondhand bookstores on Fourth Avenue (later gentrified to Park Avenue South like Sixth Avenue to Avenue of the Americas). Perhaps HG just misses being young.
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