Inside the glazed lobby of an office building at 88 Pine Street in downtown Manhattan, another Manhattan has been hatched: a florid, jaunty and raucous chick, quite like its big mother.
In this mini-Manhattan, Wall Street is a few paces long, the aluminum-sheathed prisms of the World Trade Center are 30 feet high, and though you can get on the Staten Island Ferry and feel it shiver under your feet, it can only carry half a dozen riders at a time. The Woolworth Building leans crazily, canted forward like a gothic shed in the wind. Its terra cotta façade has become a...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
