By Robert Beck

And so it was, on a cold day in October, fluorescent green cones supporting yellow caution tape suddenly appeared on the east side of Central Park West, neatly sequestering the subway ventilation grates and one of the vintage street lamps.

Construction happens all the time on the UWS, and more often than not, the purpose is unavailable to the civilian. Workers show up, stake their territory, take command and authority over a citizenry resigned to dealing with the latest obstacle, and then they are gone without notice. Phffft!

There is a hatch on Central Park West that has something to do with the subway. It’s a square of diamond plate that hinges up from the sidewalk, giving access to something way down there. It has a locking mechanism that requires a special tool. Every now and then, it opens by itself, a supremely perilous situation. When it was like that for two days, I called 311. They sent me to 911. A day later, a truck pulled up, two men got out and shut the lid using the magic tool, and the problem was solved. Except it’s not. It has happened two more times since then, and once on the other side of the street.

The green cones and caution tape had nothing to do with the lid, although they were suspiciously near one. The first tip that this was unusual was that the cones were not the New York Department of People Who Repairs Things orange, nor were they bent, scuffed, and torn. They looked happy and clean, like cones you would buy to rope off space for your one-year-old’s birthday celebration at Sheep Meadow. They were also placed with consideration for symmetry. Three cones at each corner, and the tape nicely taut. It looked like someone cared. That’s enough to make any New Yorker apprehensive, so to get the skinny, I approached the city’s most knowledgeable and trusted source: a doorman.

I was told it was a subway problem, something he called “leakage.” That could mean a number of things, and a couple more when you are talking about a New York subway. I pressed him for an explanation. Using his best copspeak, he explained that a malfunction had caused errant electrification of the surrounding metal infrastructure, including the sidewalk ventilation grills and the light pole. If your thoughts went to the unsuspecting dogs, you hit it on the head. That’s how it was discovered (yowch!). They are the canaries in the coal mine, or in this case, above the A train. It’s all taken care of now, and the happy green cones have been stacked neatly, awaiting pickup.

I once saw a man and wife get out of a Mercedes convertible at that very spot, and he relieved himself in the gutter while she pretended to be the only one who didn’t notice. They say timing is everything, and had there been an errant electrification then, I’m sure everybody would have heard immediately. Leakage: just another price of doing business in the city.

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See more of Robert Beck’s work and visit his UWS studio at www.robertbeck.net. Let him know if you have a connection to an archetypical UWS place or event that would make a good West Side Canvas subject. Thank you!

Note: Before Robert Beck started West Side Canvas, his essays and paintings were featured in Weekend Column. See Robert Beck’s earlier columns here and here.

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