first national city bank

Park Avenue and 57th Street looking south, shortly before Christmas, 1963. The First National City Bank Building (Carson & Lundin-Kahn & Jacobs, 1961) are on foreground, left, with the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel (Schultze & Weaver, 1931) and the new 50-story Chemical Bank New York Trust Building (Emery Roth & Sons, 1964) under construction at background. Union Carbide (Skidmore, Owings & Merrill, 1960), ITT (Emery Roth & Sons, 1961) and Manufacturers Hanover Trust (Emery Roth & Sons, 1961) buildings are at right. The Pan Am (Walter Gropius-Emery Roth & Sons, Pietro Belluschi, 1963) and New York General (Warren & Wetmore, 1929) are at center.

Photo: Victor Laredo.

Source: Victor Laredo, Thomas Reilly. “New York City: A Photographic Portrait” (New York, Dover, 1973).


Throwback Thursday: A Bank for the Jet Age

Completed in 1959, this building was one of several First National City Bank branches located at what was then known as Idlewild Airport (renamed John F. Kennedy Airport in 1963). While the branch served Idlewild passengers and employees, it also handled transactions for airport operations and local industries. The spacious banking floor—revealed through recessed glass walls set within steel framing—sits above a sheltered entrance lobby lined with parking spots on either side and three drive-through windows behind: a jet-aged convenience for customers on the go.

A Father’s Son (part 2)

Oliver came into the back entrance to the Bunker ten minutes before William got off the bus. He turned off the Ducati’s motor and removed his helmet. There was nothing important pressing on him as Mayor this morning and he let Quinton know that he was going to the Bunker for a workout and to call him if the city needed saving. But before that workout, Oliver needed to do a little maintenance on his bike. It was running rough on his way over, so he took off his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves and grabbed some wrenches.

As he got into his work, his thoughts went to Felicity and her meeting today. At the end of the summer, she and Curtis had taken the technology implanted in her spine to Star City First National Bank. She had reached out to Walter and explained how it was possible for her to walk again. Curtis had all the specs and diagrams, but it was Felicity standing in front of him that convinced Walter. He knew of that night in the limo just after Oliver had proposed to Felicity, how the Ghosts had shot up the car and left them for dead. Her paralysis was a hard barrier to break through, but Oliver always had an inner smile when he thought of how both of them had come together, how they clung to each other as if tragedy was as easy as shaking rain off their coats. Walter could see the financial worth of her chip, but more importantly, he could see the huge benefit and hope that Curtis’s miracle would bring to the thousands, the millions of people who will find independence again in their lives. With the chip easily available, those people will climb back onto their feet and embrace the simple ease of walking out their doors and keeping pace with the rest of the world. Walter gave them the money they needed to launch their company. This morning’s meeting was with the building contractors who were poised to put Smoak Technologies on the map. Having seen the drawings for the building, Oliver felt a small shiver move through him as he looked down at the blueprints, at the familiarity of the tower. He had seen it before; when he fell into the dream the Dominators planted him into. The building had been his way back home. Aliens…man that whole deal was so weird.

Oliver continued to work on the Ducati, losing himself in his memories. He turned the engine back on to access the work he started and didn’t hear the elevator come to a stop or the door sliding open. After a couple more minutes, Oliver stood up and turned, heading out into the rest of the Bunker. He climbed up to the platform and started to check on Felicity’s radar algorithm when he caught movement out the corner of his eye. He shifted in that direction and saw William standing still next to John’s storage cart. His son looked at him as if Oliver was a stranger. Oliver could see the dull look in William’s eyes and also noticed sweat putting a sheen of his face, highlighted by the overhead lights.

And then he saw the gun in William’s hand.

“William,” Oliver started to say as he began to move slowly over to his son. As he came closer, Oliver got a better look into William’s eyes. Recognition reached out and grabbed Oliver like a desperate embrace. He saw a seed of darkness filling his son’s eyes. They were detached and distant. It was like looking into a black mirror and seeing himself reflected in William’s vision. It was the adage of being there but with nobody home. The boy had the gun clutched in his hand, hanging at his side like a threat of violence.

“William,” Oliver said again. “What are you doing here?” Oliver tried to keep his voice even and nonchalant. “Why aren’t you at school?”

William continued staring at his father as if he had no answers to the questions posed to him. He could still feel his shoulder throbbing where Ward Cyprus had inflicted his pain. But it was only an echo, a sensation that was washed away in the aftermath of the abuse William had suffered. It was all the things that piled into his heart since he was taken by Chase at his school bus stop back home. It was his mother, the only person really in his life who was his safety and guardian and path to love and acceptance. Her death turned a part of William off, perhaps the most important part—his ability to reach out. It was the trauma Chase instilled in him by shattering the normalcy in his life. It was his father and the unbalanced turmoil he felt thinking about accepting him in that role or continuing to feel as he was living with a stranger. And now, it was the cruelty that childhood can bring. He could still feel the unworthiness Ward and those other kids brought to him with their laughter and scorn. All of it was too much for William and he was only looking for a way out of his pain.

“William,” Oliver spoke again. He had moved off the platform and was now a few feet away from his son.  “I’m not mad,” he tried to assure William. “But if there is something wrong, I want to know what it is. Can you tell me?”

William’s hand, the hand holding the gun, started to twitch, an involuntary tic that moved up onto his face and seemed to break him out of his frozen stasis. As if waking from a nightmare, William focused his gaze into his father’s eyes and saw something like concern coming from his stare. “I…I’m not…there’s nothing wrong.”

Oliver shook his head. He knew that this conversation would eventually come. He was not ignorant of his son’s pain and the loss of Samantha, pulling him down to a depth Oliver himself had sunk to when his own mother was killed in front of him. He knew about the inner tides William was drowning in, but Oliver did not have the resources, the experience and the surety of being a parent. Yes, he had thrown his whole rebuilt soul into rescuing his son from Chase, felt the love of a father give him the fortitude and strength to secure his safety. But after the smoke and fire died down on Yian Lu, Oliver shifted his focus back to his immediate family and their survival. He did not forget William, but he did feel a small apprehension at the huge responsibility his son represented. Could he be a father? Could he make that work in his already complicated life? That answer was yes. He needed to reach out to William, to help him grab hold of the same kind of answer Oliver had found when he was teetering on the edge of his own abyss.

“William, it’s okay if you’re scared,” Oliver said to him. “Fear is a scary thing, but it can also be something you can take hold of and shape into a strength. I was afraid for a long time, even before you were born.”

William heard him. He looked at his father, almost pleading for him to save him again. “How…you…I mean, how did you…what did you do…” William asked?

“I asked for help,” Oliver told him.

A tear began to fall from William’s eye and he took a couple steps towards Oliver. At his movement, he winced as his stretched tendons recoiled in his shoulder.

Oliver noticed the look of pain tightening William’s face. “William, are you hurt? What happened?”

William was still clutching the gun in his hand, but he and Oliver seemed to have dismissed its implications as they worked to bridge the gap between them. Oliver could sense those strong tides in William start to shift in a different direction. But he could sense defeat emanating from his son as well, as if William had let go of the safety of his denial.

“There were some kids at school,” William told him. “They were laughing at me. A big kid named Ward Cyprus…he said I was a pansy…he said I was a homo. Then he hurt me.”

“William, what did he do to you?”

“He pushed my arm up behind my back, real hard, and told me I couldn’t leave. I was trying to leave and he wouldn’t let me.”

Oliver’s heart began beating hard in his chest. The stark pain coming from his son ignited his own rage, the need to protect those close to him threatening to bring out the Green Arrow. But he held it back and answered his son.

“William, you need to let me look at your arm. I have to see if maybe you might need to see a doctor.” Oliver paused and looked at the gun still clutched in William’s hand. “But first,” Oliver wenton, “I want you to give me that gun. That is not the way to solve your problems. Okay?”

William’s hand tightened on the weapon, as if giving it up would deprive him of all choice. But then his father’s words penetrated through some of his rage and he relaxed his grip. Slowly, William brought his hand up and gave the gun to his father.

“Thank you, William. I never did like these things. Now arrows, that is another matter.” Oliver put the gun down on a table and continued. “When I was shipwrecked on the island ten years ago, I was really angry too. I wanted to hurt people and get revenge. But some people taught me how to…how to not be scared. They trained me how to keep myself safe.”

How,” William asked him. He began to listen more closely as Oliver tried to show him another way.

“Well,” Oliver responded, turning his head to look over at the practice mats laid out under the salmon ladder. “They taught me how to fight. They showed me that even though I was scared and angry, I could keep anyone or anything from hurting me.”

“How,” William asked again.

“William, come over here with me and I’ll show you.” Oliver moved away and walked over to his workout area. He turned back to William and gestured with his hand. “Come on,” he reiterated.

William moved away from the gun locker and followed his father. His curiosity dulled the pain in his shoulder.

While William was walking toward him, Oliver took a large bowl of water off one of the tables next to the practice mat and set it on the floor. “William,” he said. “This exercise was one of the first ways I was trained. It is about discipline.” He sat down on the ground next to the bowl.

William went up to him and he too sat on the floor, the bowl of water between him and Oliver. He was completely engaged.

“I want you to slap the water,” Oliver instructed his son.

@almondblossomme @louiseblue1 @memcjo @it-was-a-red-heeler @dmichellewrites @casydee @scu11y22 @1106angel @lovelycssefan @myhauntedblacksoul @jaspertown @joverwatch @tdgal1

New International Style boxing glass skyscrapers at east Midtown Manhattan meanly, in Park Avenue. Night view looking northeast from the 70-story RCA Building’s observation deck, in early 1963.

Buildings at left are 425 Park Avenue (Kahn & Jacobs, 1957), DuMont (James Edwin Ruthver Carpenter, 1931) and Lever House (Skidmore, Owings & Merrill, 1952). Buildings at center are the First National City Bank (Carson & Lundin-Kahn & Jacobs, 1961), Seagram (Ludwig Mies van der Rohe-Phillip Johnson-Kahn & Jacobs, 1958 and Manufactures Hannover Trust (Emery Roth & Sons, 1961)., Buildings at right are Grolier (Sylvan & Robert Bien, 1959), General Electric (Cross & Cross, 1931) and ITT (Emery Roth & Sons, 1961).

Photo: Lenars/Atlas

Source: Thomas Page. “New York” (New York, Crescent Books, 1980).

Aerial view looking north of Lower Manhattan’s Financial District, in spring, 1969, showing the new skyscrapers that be changing the local skyline.

Left, the landfill that will be used by Battery Park City’s proyect and the steel skeleton of World Trade Center’s North Tower (1 WTC. Minoru Yamasaki & Associates-Emery Roth & Sons, 1973) began to rises behind Art Deco’s Dowtown Athletic Club (Starret & Van Vleck, 1930) red tower.

Center, above Battery Park are the new 40-story black-glass and aluminum negro del One Battery Park Plaza (Emery Roth & Sons, 1970) under construction with the new Seamen’s Church Institute (Eggers & Higgins, 1968) tower. Above can be seen the Wall Street’s area skyscrapers with Irving Trust (Voorhees, Gemelin & Walker, 1931), Marine Midland Trust (Skidmore, Owings & Merrill, 1967), One Chase Manhattan Plaza (Skidmore, Owings & Merrill, 1961) and 40 Wall Street (Henry Craig Severance-Yasuo Matsui, 1930) buildings.

Right, next Staten Island ferry terminal, are 50-story 1 New York Plaza (William Lescaze & Associates-Kahn & Jacobs, 1969) under construction with the Manufacturers Hanover Trust  Building(4 New York Plaza. Carson, Lundin & Shaw, 1968) and excavation works for future 2 New York Plaza (Kahn & Jacobs, 1971) and 55 Water Street (Emery Roth & Sons, 1970-1972) buildings. Above are Art Deco’s City Bank Farmers Trust (Cross & Cross, 1931) and Cities Service (Clinton & Russell, 1932) towers with the modern 80 Pine Street (Emery Roth & Sons, 1960) and the cluster of new buildings under construction: 77 Water Street (Emery Roth & Sons, 1970), 95 Wall Street Building (Emery Roth & Sons, 1970), 100 Wall Street (Emery Roth & Sons, 1969) y and 130 John Street (Emery Roth & Sons, 1970). Next East River’s docks are First National City Bank (Emery Roth & Sons, 1968) y 120 Wall Street (Ely Jacques Kahn, 1930) buildings.

Photo: Ralph Amdursky.

Source: Hornby. “Photographing America. Know the Land and the People …through Photography”. New York. Crown Publishers, Inc. 1976.

Nigerian president signs law banning gay marriage

ReutersNigerian President Goodluck Jonathan signed a bill Monday that bans gay marriage, gay rights groups and making “public show of same-sex amorous” relationships. The bill contains penalties of up to 14 years in prison.

Under existing Nigerian federal law, sodomy is punishable by jail, but this bill legislates for a much broader crackdown on homosexuals and lesbians, who already live a largely underground existence. …

“Persons who enter into a same-sex marriage contract or civil union commit an offence and are each liable on conviction to a term of 14 years in prison,” the bill says.

“Any person who registers, operates or participates in gay clubs, societies and organizations or directly or indirectly makes public show of same-sex amorous relationship in Nigeria commits an offence and shall each be liable on conviction to a term of 10 years in prison.”

Secretary of State John Kerry said the U.S. is “deeply concerned” by the law.

Follow updates on this story at Breaking News

Photo: Nigeria’s President Goodluck Jonathan arrives for the service for former South African President Nelson Mandela at the First National Bank Stadium, also known as Soccer City, in Johannesburg Dec. 10, 2013.

veganpunkers  asked:

ColdFlash prompt: you know what the fandom needs and which is horribly lacking? A hypothermia fic. Snuggling together for warmth because they have to. (Details up to you but like, yeah, I cant believe we dont have one yet :p)

The Weather Wizard’s latest attempt on Central City involved an ice storm in the First National Bank. Of course Barry was there. It had nothing to do with crime fighting and everything to do with getting a certified check for his new landlord before noon. That wasn’t looking like it was going to happen on time. 

Barry was never on time. It looks like he’d spend another month apartment hunting. The small saving grace is the bank wasn’t busy. Aside from the tellers and the manager, there was only six civilians. 

The deep freeze that enveloped the bank made him groggy and slow. Too slow to speed away before the temperature dropped and the rest of Weather Wizard’s crew entered the bank. 

A team lead by Captain Cold. Barry suppressed a shiver that vibrated though his whole body. Since when was Cold teaming up with Mark Mardon? Barry was just about to give super speed another try before the heist escalated when Cold’s mirrored goggles zeroed in on him. Like a deer caught in headlights, Barry froze.

That instant of indecision sparked Cold’s team to hustle the bank patrons and employees together while Cold strode purposely towards Barry.

“Well, well, well, Scarlet, we really must stop meeting like this,” Cold drawled, holding his cold gun directly at Barry’s chest with a smirk.

“Yeah, well, you’re in my city,” said Barry with as much might as he could muster when he was sure his lips were turning blue as his teeth chattered. 

Whatever Cold was going to say seemed to have changed because he was frowning at Barry. Not the usual dastardly sinister expression Barry was used to seeing. If he wasn’t so cold, he could have mistaken it for concern. Clearly the cold was hitting him harder than he thought. 

“Mardon, cool it on the deep freeze,” ordered Cold and suddenly Barry was enveloped in warmth. It took a half second to realize it was because Cold had his free arm around him while the cold gun was aloft.

“Wouldn’t want you to get any heroic ideas, Scarlet,” declared Cold as it took all of Barry’s strength not to lean into the goose down parka that radiated heat.