Two different worlds
Concrete and glass
On November 9, 1918—Armistice Day—opera superstar Enrico Caruso stood on a balcony of the Knickerbocker Hotel (center), looking out over the intersection of 42nd Street and Broadway. Throngs of people had gathered below to celebrate the end of the first World War, and Caruso, the world’s most famous tenor, wanted to add to the excitement. He decided to do what he did best: Sing. He led the crowd in the ‘Star-Spangled Banner,’ and followed it with the French and Italian national anthems. Caruso and his family lived at the former hotel because it was close to the Metropolitan Opera, just three blocks away at the time. He lived since it's opening in 1903 to 1921, the year he died. Once, Caruso encountered an unemployeed man standing on the bread line in the back of the hotel, Caruso gave him his coat and shoes.
The Knickerbocker also had its own subway entrance, which can still be seen today. It’s at the eastern end of Track 1 at the Times Square shuttle platform. (At the time, the shuttle was actually part of an IRT track that ran south along the 4/5/6 line and continued north along the 1/3/9 tracks.) There you’ll find a grimy, nondescript door, the lintel of which reads ‘KNICKERBOCKER.’ The door is locked, but it once gave way to a cozy basement lobby and bar. In 1912, the bar's most famous bartender was Martini di Arma di Taggia who allegedly mixed gin and dry vermouth, perfecting the martini.
Two different worlds
Concrete and glass
On November 9, 1918—Armistice Day—opera superstar Enrico Caruso stood on a balcony of the Knickerbocker Hotel (center), looking out over the intersection of 42nd Street and Broadway. Throngs of people had gathered below to celebrate the end of the first World War, and Caruso, the world’s most famous tenor, wanted to add to the excitement. He decided to do what he did best: Sing. He led the crowd in the ‘Star-Spangled Banner,’ and followed it with the French and Italian national anthems. Caruso and his family lived at the former hotel because it was close to the Metropolitan Opera, just three blocks away at the time. He lived since it's opening in 1903 to 1921, the year he died. Once, Caruso encountered an unemployeed man standing on the bread line in the back of the hotel, Caruso gave him his coat and shoes.
The Knickerbocker also had its own subway entrance, which can still be seen today. It’s at the eastern end of Track 1 at the Times Square shuttle platform. (At the time, the shuttle was actually part of an IRT track that ran south along the 4/5/6 line and continued north along the 1/3/9 tracks.) There you’ll find a grimy, nondescript door, the lintel of which reads ‘KNICKERBOCKER.’ The door is locked, but it once gave way to a cozy basement lobby and bar. In 1912, the bar's most famous bartender was Martini di Arma di Taggia who allegedly mixed gin and dry vermouth, perfecting the martini.