It was the ribbed seam on the back of a stocking that inspired Leo Ackerman to tap a young woman on the shoulder in the main concourse of Grand Central Terminal in 1948 and ask her what she was doing later that evening.
Mollie Zessin, then 24 years old, replied that she would be attending a Jewish dance at the Metropolitan Club and coyly told him he could join her. Mr. Ackerman, the dashing owner of a male modeling agency and an occasional hat model himself, kept the date. Three months later, they were married.
Grand Central Terminal, a birthplace of modern commuting celebrating its 100th birthday on Friday, stands as a symbol of the comings and goings of the city and the nation—the scene of more boisterous hellos and tearful goodbyes than can be counted.
Ten decades of meetings and greetings have inspired generations of photographers and writers who have immortalized the station in works ranging from Alfred Hitchcock's "North by Northwest" to the TV show "Gossip Girl." The building has become enmeshed in the emotional memories of the masses who pass through it.
Mr. Ackerman retold the story of his life-changing encounter at the landmark station so many times that the tale has become the stuff of family lore.
"The last time I saw my grandfather before he died, he told me again about meeting my grandmother in Grand Central," said Ruthie Ackerman, his granddaughter. "I love the idea that a bold young man and a stylish woman in ribbed stockings can meet and fall in love in the same place I pass through every day to get to work."
"It's such a transient space with people coming and going," she added, "it still amazes me that people slow down long enough to fall in love."
Katherine Oliver, commissioner of the Mayor's Office of Media and Entertainment, describes the terminal as one of the more sought-after locations for filming in New York City. Last year, officials said, approximately 500 permits were issued for filming and photography inside Grand Central.
"It creates the backdrop for an emotional scene for someone anxiously awaiting a loved one or bidding farewell," Ms. Oliver said.
From 1915 until the 1990s, the Beaux Arts building even contained a special place apart from the hustle and bustle of the main floor that was designated for loved ones in the throes of an extra special hello. An area adjacent to the arriving long-distance trains—officially dubbed the Incoming Train Room—hosted reunions between sweethearts and military men returning from war.
"Everyone was greeting people from around the country, so obviously there was a lot of kissing going on there," said Metro-North spokeswoman Marjorie Anders, explaining how the room acquired its more famous moniker: "The Kissing Room."
Transit officials are hoping to bring back more of the kissing in 2019, when a massive expansion to the station in the $8.2 billion East Side Access megaproject adds a pair of escalators that will once again make it a meeting spot.
When Cynthia MacGregor's parents took her to Grand Central before summer camp each July from 1954 to 1959, the last thing she wanted was a kiss. "I totally ignored my parents the second we got into Grand Central," she recalled.
Instead, she was busy looking for her bunkmates—and she can still recite their names: Terry, Rosemary, Janet, Myra and Sherry. From the Midtown terminal, the girls would head off each summer to the Berkshire mountains in Massachusetts. And they wanted nothing more than to be loose from their parents and to board the train, where they would sing for hours.
"The parents had separation anxiety," remembered Ms. MacGregor, now 69. "But most of the kids were eager to get to camp and ignored our parents."
Lindsey Green felt a different kind of separation anxiety last November as she visited the main room of Grand Central three times in a three-week span. Ms. Green, a public relations and communications consultant, was evacuated from her apartment near Peck Slip in Lower Manhattan after superstorm Sandy. The lobby took in eight feet of water, forcing Ms. Green and her boyfriend to decamp to Brooklyn's Cobble Hill neighborhood. Frequent post-storm visits to Grand Central were her way of saying goodbye to the borough she'd called home for nearly a decade.
"Grand Central has always been my zen place. It is the place that says New York to me," she said.
Growing up in Florida, Ms. Green kept old photographs of Grand Central in notebooks, which ultimately inspired her to move to New York. On her first day in the city, she spent hours just watching people come and go from inside the old station's hallowed halls.
"When I knew evacuation would mean leaving Manhattan for Brooklyn, the only place I felt the need to spend time in was Grand Central," she said. "It gives me clarity when things are incredibly out of sorts."
(Wall Street Journal)
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