Another installment of memoirs:
The New York Statler Hilton
I didn’t know it at the time, but the New York Statler Hilton (that’s what it was called in 1968 when I was a guest/victim there) has the dubious distinction of having the New York phone number in longest continuous use. The number, PEnnsylvania 6-5000, has been around so long, in fact, that it was the inspiration for the 1940 Glen Miller hit.
I didn’t know the number, though. Couldn’t have called if I wanted to, trussed up like a Christmas goose, my own Clorox scented handkerchief stuck down my gob. They cut the phone line, too, just in case.
They. Sorry. Antecedent. The two fellows who helped me find my room. Me, an obvious hick from the sticks on my first ever trip on my own, headed to school in Europe. The Statler Hilton was full of twenty-year-olds like me, gathered there to spread out across the European continent for junior-year-abroad programs. Fresh-faced, whitebread kids from all over the hinterland all gathered at the Statler. (more…)
Scene of the Crime 