From 1976 through early 1980 (when I moved out of Manhattan) I made a weekly trip via subway from my apartment on West 11th Street in Greenwich Village to the New Yorker‘s offices on 25 West 43rd Street. After a week of working mostly alone at home it was my one big foray into the real world.
Stepping from the 42nd Street subway at Bryant Park, I’d jaywalk across 42nd Street to get to the W.R.Grace building. Its north/south block-wide lobby allowed access to 43rd Street, almost directly across the street from 25 West 43rd.
After pushing through the revolving doors at 25 West 43rd Street, and following an elevator ride to the 18th floor, I’d arrive at my destination: a window. I’d slip a 10″ x 13″ grey envelope of new drawings through the slot at the base of what appeared to be very thick glass. Behind the glass sat a receptionist. She’d take the new envelope and pass me an envelope of my work submitted (and rejected) the week before. Then I’d get back on the elevator to the main lobby, and retrace my steps home. In all of those years I never spoke to the receptionist (nor she to me), nor did I run into anyone in the hallway (I did however share a down elevator ride with Charles Addams. We didn’t speak).
The window reception was one of many of the magazine’s oddities left behind when the magazine moved south across the street in 1991.
Below: the window.