But first, a story no one has ever heard. Because I'm going to make it up right now. And, begin.
Friday, May 9th 1986 was a fine spring day in New York and Jay had the world by the balls. At least to the extent that a junior analyst could. The previous year, his firm had somehow escaped major penalties relating to a massive check-kiting scandal, and the Crash of '87 was still about a year and a half away. As far as Jay knew, this was a new beginning for banking giant E.F. Hutton, but it was actually much closer to the end. Something did begin that night though, and it would change his life. Whirlwind romances can do that.
After work, he and a few of the guys on his trading desk made the short trip from their office at The World Trade Center down to South Street Seaport to unwind with a few too many. Unlike most of his peers in those days, Jay had no appetite for cocaine. He'd tried it, sure. Who hadn't? But even as the drug tightened it's grip on the world of high finance, it just wasn't something he enjoyed.
So when his buddies went off for a toot, he found himself alone with his beer. This ritual was taking place on most Friday nights now and sometimes on the odd Thursday and it always involved Jay being forced to abide the deluded rants of the coke fiend. Or fiends, in his case. Usually he'll drink enough gin to tolerate them, but tonight he'd only had a few beers and that just wouldn't do the job. A quick cab ride back to WTC, the PATH train to Grove Street Station in Jersey City and with luck, he could be in his apartment in less than a half hour. He stood up to finish his pint, and in doing so, bumped into a woman causing her to spill her chardonnay. Their eyes met. They were in love. Her name was Leslie.
Over the next year, the young couple would run in all directions. They ate mussels in Leslie's hometown of Palm Beach Gardens, Florida. They went to the dog track. Back in Manhattan, they visited the newly opened AT&T InfoQuest Center where they learned about microchips and fiberoptics, among other things.
In November they scored the hottest ticket in town: Steve Winwood at Madison Square Garden for the Back in the Highlife tour. Jay hosted his annual Christmas party. They went ice skating, they went to the Guggenheim, they saw a performance by The Paper Bag Players (Maybe one of them had a nephew or niece or something). They celebrated Valentine's Day '87. They played with a dog. They nursed one another back to health. It was a magical love affair and truly an unforgettable year.
Yes, I know the story gets a bit rushed after they meet. First, it's a whirlwind. Second, it's based on a piece of art (with plenty of poetic license thrown in). As you can see, it's made up of many elements. To highlight each one would have made for quite a long tale and that's not really what this is about. This is more about the story behind the story. And another one behind that.
My roommates and I found the piece on October 1, 2006. I remember the date because it was the day we all moved in together and we were walking home after celebrating. It was with the trash on the curb, but it was wrapped in plastic. That and the period specific red frame caught our eye. One of us said, "We need some art. Grab it." We hardly looked at what it was.
When we got back to The Penthouse, we were amazed. This thing was crazy. What a bunch of random stuff.
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| Sorry for the glare. |
Almost every person who visited our place for the first time was fascinated by it. We spent hours studying it, and I swear that I still find new details. Needless to say, I was able to claim it when we all moved out in January 2009. I was just kinda like, "I'm taking the art," and no one really argued. I don't even remember if I was the one who spotted it in the street that day.
So now it hangs above the dinner table in our apartment, and is often the subject of alcoholically enhanced conversations and I'm very glad it does since it's pretty much the only interesting thing we own. Besides the pole.
Epilogue
We found Jay on Facebook. That's not a sentence that would have made sense in 1986. Not even the InfoQuest Center could have predicted the way social media would change our society.
He and Leslie didn't make it. He's married to someone else and has three daughters. We figure Leslie made this for him and he lugged it around for 20 years before he finally decided to get rid of it.
I can't decide if I want to contact him. I'm incredibly curious, but I don't want to risk somehow ruining the mystique. What do you think I should do? What should I say to him, if anything? Let me know in comments or on FB.
