National Geographic : 1964 Jul
ternational flights," Tom Young said. "Four times more people now arrive from abroad by plane than by ship." The Garment District: Productive Chaos Manhattan's busiest spot is not a transpor tation terminal but an area just south of Times Square-the garment district, where buyers from stores across the country bounce into showrooms to appraise toddlers' wear and infants' wear, misses' wear and sports wear, maternity wear, swimwear, sleepwear -whatever man produces ready-to-wear. Most of it is produced right here: five billion dollars' worth annually, nearly two-thirds of America's output of women's wear. KODACHROMEBY NATIONALGEOGRAPHIC PHOTOGRAPHERALBERT MOLDVAY( N.G.S. Cutters and sewing-machine operators spill from the subways by the tens of thou sands. The streets are choked with big trucks, little trucks, hand trucks, and clothes racks on wheels. Imagine 400 jobbers, contractors, and manufacturers per block-all needing pickups and deliveries! I ducked into the Trade Show Building, where 123 firms exhibited that day. I ducked right out again when a lady buyer from Salt Lake City, whom I had not met before, greet ed me warmly in the belief that I was an old friend and a salesman of Teen Coordinates and Stretchies. The garment district provides one of the world's most monumental headaches-the unhappy possession of Traffic Commissioner Henry A. Barnes. "The trouble is that nobody seems to make a whole dress," says Mr. Barnes. "One man cuts patterns, another shop makes button holes, another does embroidery. And every thing has to be moved from one shop to the next. It's the world's biggest production line -and the line is right on the streets! "The area is strangling itself," the com missioner laments, "but if I cured the prob lem, I'd kill the industry." Much of Manhattan is, in fact, a huge busi ness center: Furs, men's wear, electronic equipment, plastics-some 22,000 workshops crowd floor upon floor. Blocks of wholesale houses for textiles, for furniture, for toys. Great department stores; clusters of special ized shops-for cut-rate vitamins, for police equipment, for clergymen's needs, for wed ding gowns. Into the sea of offices around Madison Avenue crowd most of New York's 1,350 ad vertising agencies. Also many publishing firms. New York houses seven out of ten of the country's largest magazines, and 15 of the 20 most prolific book publishers. I asked why. "Because the magazines want to be close to the ad agencies, the sources of advertising revenue," said Col. Frank Forsberg, Execu tive Vice President of Holt, Rinehart & Win ston, Inc. "To find authors for our books, we go all over the country-after all, talent is everywhere-but the editors, the put-togeth er talent, you'll find in New York." Bard's poetry imbues the August night with magic during a performance of The Winter's Tale at the open-air Delacorte Theater in Central Park. Each summer the New York Shakespeare Festival troupe stages three productions; admission is free.