The Long Exposure of 42nd Street

Lamp Post #402 • A Century of Light • On Cobblestones & Concrete

I have been awake since 1912. I started as a hiss of gas, a flickering yellow flame inside a glass globe that attracted moths and drunkards in equal measure. Now, I am a hum of LEDs, a stark, white beam that cuts through the digital haze of Times Square. I am Lamp Post #402, and I have watched the world change its shoes a thousand times.

The Age of Hooves

In the beginning, the ground was made of cobblestones. The air smelled of wet wool and horse manure. I watched men in bowler hats and women in long skirts hurry past, their faces illuminated by the soft, uneven glow of my gas flame. It was a slower time. People looked up. They noticed the stars, even in the city.

I saw the first Model T sputter past, a noisy intruder in a world of hooves. I saw the subway entrance open across the street, a gaping maw that swallowed thousands of souls every morning and spat them back out, exhausted, every evening.

The Neon Years

Then came the light. Not my light, but the light of the theaters. Neon tubes in pink and electric blue began to wrap around the buildings. The cobblestones were buried under asphalt. The horses were replaced by yellow cabs that roared like lions. I was converted to electricity in 1935, and suddenly, I was no longer the brightest thing on the block. I became a witness to the "Great White Way."

I saw the marquees change. I saw the crowds swell and shrink. I saw the city hold its breath during the blackout of '77, and I saw it dance when the lights came back on. I am a sentinel of the sidewalk. I have seen lovers meet under my cone of light, and I have seen them part. I have seen business deals made on cell phones, and I have seen fortunes lost on corner tables.

The Digital Hum

Now, the light is everywhere. It is in the pockets of the people who walk by, glowing from their screens. They don't look up anymore. They don't look at the stars, or the buildings, or even at me. They are in a different world, a digital one that floats above the concrete.

But I am still here. I still cast my circle of white on the pavement. And sometimes, just for a second, someone looks up from their phone, catches my light, and for a brief moment, they are present. They are here. And I am still watching.