2023 Brooklyn. A big yellow Checker Cab rides towards me. I instinctively flag it. The driver, an old timer like me, smiles, nods, and slowly rolls by. Giving me probably my final chance to savor a yellow Checker Cab.
Im hypnotized, and swept back to 1980, Manhattan. Back to a time when yellow cabs ruled the streets. I used to drive a Checker. We never got tickets. We were above the law.
Us and the newspaper delivery trucks that came out at 2am.. Heavy duty box trucks loaded with the early edition. Trucks that said THE DAILY NEWS, and THE NEW YORK POST. Trucks that treated red lights like stop signs. They would screech to a stop in front of the delis and newsstands, toss out 2 or 3 bundles and roar off. From the presses to the customers in minutes. Seven nights a week. For only 25 cents.
In the daytime, 3 out of 4 vehicles in Manhattan were yellow cabs. At night it was like 90%.
And the big yellow Checker Cab was the king of the road. It was gorgeous.
When you flagged a Checker down and hopped in the back seat, you felt like the President. Or a movie star. How roomy were they? Well , when you sat down, you couldn't kick the front seat if you tried.
Six people could hop in the back. And the driver wouldn’t move an inch. They had 2 ‘jumper seats’ that laid flat on the floor, and could pop up. 2 tiny seats that looked like they belonged in a kindergarten class. But they could handle full grown ‘butts’ no problem. Everybody fought over them. “I Got the jumper seat.”
And the Checker Cab had huge windows, to take in the ‘parade’. Which is always on display, everywhere in Manhattan.
And big windows to look down on non Checker riders all squished up. Yes, riding in a Checker Cab made you feel special. You were somebody.
I drove the night shift of course, from 5pm until 5am. The shift that you would meet every kind of person in N.Y.C. The businessmen up until 7. The theater crowd until 8. And when the Broadway shows let out at 10:30, a sea of people would pour into 8th ave going uptown, and pour into Broadway going downtown. Gushing over the sidewalk and into the street.
Back then black folks had a hard time getting a cab. For 2 reasons. One, most cabbies didn't want to leave Manhattan before midnight. [ its where the money was ] And black folks probably mean Brooklyn….Puerto Ricans…The Bronx. And Asians…Queens.
Another reason was black folks probably meant a trip to ‘The Hood’. Back when Harlem was all black. When Bed Stuy was called Do or Die. Sadly, that has all disappeared, like Atlantis. Most drivers were afraid to go to those places.
So a lot of black folks flagged yellow cabs with a style that was kinda like they were fishing. They knew it was a long shot before midnight. Empty cabs would sail past em’ almost every time.
Not me though. I always picked up black folks. Unless they were young. I didn't pick up young white kids either. I was young once.
One night as I turned the corner into the sea of Broadway people, the first ones I came to were an older black couple.. They couldn't believe that with all these white folks looking for a cab, I stopped for them. He opened the door and said.
“Ah, can you go to Brooklyn?”
“Yes sir, how would you like to go?”
They didn't expect that..
I was a great taxi driver. Riding the center lanes, [ furthest away from double parkers ], helping people with bags. Showing them where to buy drugs. Or female companionship.
I would stop in either this deli on 14th st or the one on 94th st. The same people ran both of them, I'm sure. They opened around midnight, and closed around 5am. All the stuff on the shelves had a thick layer of dust. The coolers were empty and warm. You'd walk to the back counter and a guy would be behind thick plexiglass. They sold 2 kinds of weed. Sensimilla or Thai Stick. There was usually a line, but it moved fast. When you stepped to the glass, you dropped $10 or $25 into the slot and said “Sense” or “Thai” and got a bag.
This smoke was heaven to a 23 year old guy who just moved here. I would twist up a skinny jay in a Bamboo paper, and the wonderful night turned magical.
At 1am nobody cared if you looked stoned’.
In the 80’s the Taxi and Limousine Commission never drug tested.
In the 80’s people were out all night. And the yellow cab was the preferred transportation.You would just walk to the avenue, look for a taxi with the roof light lit, and wave him down.
Sometimes all the lights were out and you waited. Ian Dury and the Blockheads made a great song about that. ‘Waiting for your Taxi.’
And after midnight, you'd walk to the ave., raise your arm, and a cab would zip up immediately, like magic.
A suggestion if you're a New Yorker. Some Saturday night, instead of pulling out your phone to text an Uber, look for a roof light heading your way, and let your arm have some fun. And if you absolutely must do something with your phone, play Waiting For Your Taxi.
Careful, the song is Ga roovy. The S W A T team might show up.
gene bray
This was a great read and I really loved the honesty and grit. Our current world is obsessed with this idea technology can replace everyone and everything (I know I work in the tech I ndustry for a living) and yet what they plan on replacing won’t work. I see self driving cars as some Silicon Valley elite anti social bubble boys wet dream.
People need people!! And even more so the people in professions who understand there is deep knowledge and experience and culture for what they do. They literally run the underground. I used to travel to New York and Boston and Atlanta for work weeks on end. I used cabs more than Uber. I loved the authenticity and yes, a cabby will know where to take you when you want to experience the life blood of the city and also make a fond single serving friend in the mix.
I remember these people more than the rich clients or fancy elites.
Thanks for the reminder!