In the preservation debate over Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg's rezoning plan for east Midtown, one of the most conspicuous landmarks is a building that hasn't existed for almost half a century, yet still exerts a strong influence over the neighborhood.
Grand Central Palace, on Lexington Avenue, between 46th and 47th Streets, was New York's principal exhibition hall for 40 years: home of the International Flower Show, the Greater New York Poultry Exposition, the Westminster Kennel Club dog show, the Sportsmen's and Vacation Show, the National Photographic Show, the International Beauty Shop Owners Convention, the Frozen Foods Exposition, the National Plastics Exposition, the International Textile Exposition, the National Modern Homes Exposition, the American Medical Association Exposition, the city's Golden Anniversary Exposition of 1948 and - in the greatest annual generator of nautical daydreams and logistical nightmares - the National Motor Boat Show.
(You think it's tough driving in Midtown? Try it in a 54-foot Wheeler cruiser with a flying bridge.)
In 1963, 52 years after Grand Central Palace opened and a decade after the last show was held there, the 13-story building was demolished. A 44-story office tower, 245 Park Avenue, took its place.
But even today, you can clearly follow the shadow of the Palace by walking up Lexington Avenue from 47th Street. Expositions and conventions brought thousands of travelers to town. Accommodations sprouted shoulder to shoulder along âHotel Alleyâ: the Winthrop (now the Roger Smith), the Lexington, the Shelton (now the Marriott East Side), the Montclair (now the W New York) and the Beverly (now the Benjamin). Across Lexington Avenue, and in a different league, were the Barclay (now the InterCo ntinental Barclay) and the Waldorf-Astoria.
All but one of these hotels have been identified by the Municipal Art Society, the New York Landmarks Conservancy and the Historic Districts Council as worthy of consideration for landmark status. (The Waldorf-Astoria is the exception. It already is an official landmark.) Preservationists fear that the increase in permissible building density envisioned in the mayor's rezoning plan would make it economically feasible to demolish structures like these.
Had there been a strong landmarks law in 1963, there surely would have been a fight over Grand Central Palace. A good case could have been made for its architecture, too.
It was designed by Warren & Wetmore and Reed & Stem, who also worked together on Grand Central Terminal itself. The Lexington Avenue facade of the Palace had a portico of four colossal columns. A two-story arcade - illuminated at night - ringed the top of the building. The main exhibition area was ingeniously carved out of the second and third floors to create an interior volume 48 feet high. The main floor could accommodate 94 booths, typically about 320 square feet each. (I've lived in smaller apartments.)
But let's be honest. Grand Central Palace was not about architecture. It was a setting where adults could play out their fantasies under the pretense of doing business; that is, unless you'd been inducted there into the armed forces during World War II or had a dust-up with the Internal Revenue Service, w hose New York headquarters were there in the 1950s.
Even the staid New York Times got into the spirit of things. âGrand Central Palace All A-Cackle With 7,200 Poultry Show Entrants,â said a headline on Jan. 4, 1951, under a photograph of a young woman with a long-tailed bird on her s houlder: âFlorence Awe using âLady Amhurst,' a pheasant, as a hat.â
The perennial tangle between automotive and nautical traffic before and after the boat show also allowed Times copy editors to let down their hair a bit. âBoats Go Bounding O'er Main Streets,â was the headline on Jan. 8, 1953, heralding the arrival of the show.
Assessing the home furnishings show in The Times of Sept. 18, 1952, Betty Pepis wrote: âAll the items that could - and, it seemed to this reporter, many things that shouldn't go into a home - will be displayed by more than 400 exhibitors.â With a nod to the impending presidential election, Elizabeth Draper designed a study for Dwight D. Eisenhower in bold strokes of red, white and blue. Melanie Kahane's study for Adlai E. Stevenson was of muted gray and beige. You know how that turned out.
One of the greatest annual draws w as the flower show, which offered azaleas, camellias, lilies, peonies, petunias, primroses, roses and tulips in early March, when such color and fragrance in Midtown would have been welcome. As a reporter, I imagine it was a pleasant way to spend an afternoon. Yet I don't envy the writer who had to describe it year in and year out.
ââSpring followed by summer' is the forecast today and all through the week for Grand Central Palace,â was how she opened her account on March 5, 1951. Two years later, on March 9, 1953, her lead paragraph began, ââSpring leading into summer' is the forecast for one small part of New York this week.â I'm not going to name names. We've all done it.