Has New York’s Transformation Over the Years Improved the City?

The Splendor of the New York Narrative

New York, New York — you once were an incredible city.

What about now? The Bronx is buzzing all night, while the Battery is winding down.

Back in 1860, just weeks before I was born: A Gilded Age. Expansion, industrial growth, societal changes. Rice cost 7 cents per pound. Coffee? 21 cents. The cost of laundering a rag was 11 cents. Soap? 8 cents. Strolling the streets was safe—no fear at night. Life was filled with tough challenges.

Our then-mayor? Fernando Wood, a name lost to time except perhaps to Mrs. Wood. And if their marital ties produced any splinters of ‘Wood.’ The NYC population back then? Roughly 800,000, with numerous immigrants arriving from Europe. The inception of small ethnic enclaves — Little Italy, Lower East Side, Chinatown — was underway.

At that time: No subway systems. No towering glass apartments. No rotary phones, no Uber, no smartphones, no unemployment, minimal taxes. Not a single double-parked car in sight. Seriously, there weren’t even single cars parked anywhere. And rumble seats for extra passengers weren’t introduced until 1920.

Fast forward a century later—spitting, once frowned upon, is now a common activity. Especially spotted in front of marijuana dispensaries or adult shops instructing you on how to engage in activities if you’ve never done so before. Children who struggle with math score high marks in the art of spitting.

One individual expressed that we’ve lost our Quality of Life. With the fear of a shiv in your back. Taking the subway? Fearing a shiv in your front. Hailing a cab? To catch one, you risk getting run over by a cyclist. Those once arrested seem to find their way into politics.

With no wars raging in Afghanistan, Vietnam, or Iraq, is this a place to serve your country? Perhaps not.

If you’re in a jam, seek refuge behind an unmovable garbage truck. Or squeeze between bicycle racks. Or hide beneath city scaffolding. Or even consider relocating to Montreal where, perhaps, Eric Adams has an emergency tailor.

Or go and track down those temporarily elusive migrants. Some remain confined in Guantanamo. Only 75% of the border can be monitored. Flaunting high-end handbags is impossible, so they’re swapped for ordinary plastic bags once used for transporting oranges and potatoes.

Once hailed as the greatest city on earth, it’s now loud, filthy, congested, costly, and polluted. Chaotic, seemingly unmanageable, impassable, lacking in housing and hospitality, with rising crime rates and declining safety. Need a hospital bed? Perhaps Iowa is a better option. Open ward spaces are available, but good luck figuring out how to get there.

Approaching Fifth Avenue? Forget it. Traffic on the perpetually gridlocked Fifth Avenue has a sign stating: No stopping, no standing, no parking, no kidding. Fifth Avenue! The place you’d like to pause — yet can’t.

New York. The Plaza won’t allow you into the steam room without a tie and jacket. If the Waldorf’s barbershop ever reopens, you’ll need a colonoscopy first — and you better pass! Also, room service won’t give you their number unless you know the secret handshake.

But we must let the world know we’re on top. New York City. The biggest, finest, classiest, most brilliant city, home to takers, grifters, crooks, thinkers, and creators. Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick call it home. Tom Hanks has his place here. Robert De Niro? Here. Alec Baldwin, Jerry Seinfeld, Taylor Swift, Donald Trump, Denzel Washington, Al Pacino, Gigi Hadid, Mariah Carey, Madonna, Hugh Jackman, Peter Dinklage, Martin Scorsese, Anne Hathaway, Julianne Moore, Cyndi Lauper, Ryan Reynolds, and Blake Lively, Carolina Herrera, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Steven Spielberg, and — importantly — P. Diddy, all reside here.

So if you’re searching for a song about Arizona — good luck. It’s only in New York, folks, only in New York.