I could tell a thousand stories about Grand Central Station. If it was not the literal crossroads of my youth, it was certainly one of the major intersections fir at least half of my adult life and many of the more charged events in it. My father went through it every day for decades, as we lived in Yonkers and he worked in the city. Later on, I would commute. But I also went through Grand Central for everything from dates to concerts to nefarious undertakings and even the mundane. I would hang out there when there was no place else to go. I wandered it in the 70’s and 80’s and still pass through, occasionally, to this day. I would visit my parents, when they were still alive, via Metro North, which was the Penn Central when I was young and the New York Central when I was even younger. I heard stories of my grandfather, the one I never knew, who worked there for decades, long before I was born. This is one of the tunnels on the main level leading to the tracks.
Oh, the stories I could tell about Grand Central Station. Perhaps, with the next shot from there, I’ll begin.