Almost every New Yorker has to push a button and often wait some time to reach their automated elevator.
Tony Scallia, meanwhile, spends his days in a fresh gray uniform, pulling an accordion gate and manually transporting motorcyclists up and down to one of the last residual manhattan-operated lifts.
It levels the cabin with the accuracy of a surgeon, the joints in the first tenant of the day and creates a change that feels more like a ritual than a routine.
At 863 Park Ave Co-op near the 77th East 77 road, where Scallia, 44, worked for a quarter of a century, progress moving more slowly and this is exactly how the inhabitants like it.
“It feels good about knowing that I have a rare job,” he told the post. “There is that saying: Anyone can do my job. But there is only one of them. And so you have to see it.”
The manual operators of the elevator were once the blood of the life of vertical living in the New York City.
In the mid-20th century, the census counted more than 90,000 elevator operators across the country. But after the elevator strike throughout the city of 1945 – when 15,000 operators brought New York to stop – technological innovation and changing attitudes accelerated their decline.
Today, the role is everything, but missing.
The city department of buildings estimates that only about 50 hand-operated elevators remain throughout Manhattan, including some in Brooklyn, mainly in OP-op-op-op-ops and historical hotels. In an era of automation, a man behind the wheel is a charming anachronism.
“We don’t have computer systems. Only we,” he said.
The workplace of Scallia is generally a charming remnant of Old New York. The 1908 building, designed by Pollard & Steinam in a restrained Beaux-Arts style, boasts limestone details and 23 units. It also has a home stream for sale-a three bedroom with beam ceilings and a renovated kitchen demanding $ 2.5 million, represented by Compass-No to name small historical circulation.
“It’s a very delightful feeling. He feeling old,” Scallia said. “Is another era for them. They come from that era.
Scialia, from Bronx, was a student at the Suny Westchester Community College when he landed work for summer.
“A friend of mine recommended me … so I could make extra money from the side. And it was perfect. I fit immediately.”
Decades later, he still receives the 5 -morning train from Cortland Manor in Westchester, stops at Dunkin ‘donuts for his usual coffee – hot, light cream and sugar – and transformation from travelers to the goalkeeper.
He is only the fourth person who operates this elevator in more than a century. “The boy I took his place [from] He was there for 35 years. And the boy before that was there for 35 or 36 years, so he began in the 1950s, “Scallia said.
By 7:20 am, the co-op lobby is buzzing with dog, school schools and residents heading to the office. And there is only one man to bring them around.
“I’m the first in the morning door,” he said. “We make all the dry cleaning, the photos, the abandons we bring up, we make the mail. We wear all the hats.”
The elevator himself is a relic of another paneled-era, with bronze accent and hand-operated by a rotating lever. Requires subtlety.
“You have to flatten it yourself,” said Scallia. “There’s a trick. The elevator does all you want to do. This is deceit. So if you are playing around him, confusing around him, the elevator will be kidnapped.”
When Scallia recently began training of newcomers.
“You don’t want the elevator to continue up and down. Three shots – you’re fine,” he added.
Over the years, Scientia has seen more than those that see a lot throughout their lives: interruptions, starting technology that makes online law parcels arrive in massive quantities as well as celebrities. Brook Shields was once regularly visited to see a friend, always with ice cream in hand.
But it is the relationship, not the surprises, which make the job meaningful.
“That’s 2 or 3 minutes you need to build a relationship,” he told passengers who ride with him. “You’re not just an elevator operator. You play the role of the psychiatrist. You listen to their issues, problems … you can read them on their faces.”
SCIALIA has seen children grow up, from it to it, from it to the driver’s licenses. He was the first person to see in the morning, wants them safe trips before they get into the Hamptons and sometimes the last when they leave for good.
“It was an elderly lady, in the 1980s, they wanted to put her in a house,” he said. “And she goes,” Tony, I don’t want to go. “She just started crying and said ‘I can’t believe this will be my last time in the elevator’.” “She passed away like a year.”
Inside the cabin, trust is the coin.
“There is [residents] Who have been there for over 50 years, “Scientia added.” You have to take care of people, their problems, their successes. A robot … will not take care of. We care. “
There is a feeling made by the residents of the building, who have supported a science through personal losses with large flower letters and bouquets when his parents died in recent years.
“This was the greatest act of kindness,” he said.
And as modernization goes, Scientia knows that the day will come for the lever to be replaced by a button.
“I don’t know as long as I have,” he said. “But when the time comes … I will miss people the most. Nothing lasts forever.”
#Exclusive #Tap #elevator #operators #NYC #feels #good #rare #job
Image Source : nypost.com