Last Updated on 07/09/2024 by Arun jain
Arriving late at Arthur Ashe Stadium, four cocktail-craving fans sauntered into their courtside US Open seats like it was an extended revelry.
Then, they ran into Edwin Westley.
Mr. Westley, 80, a seasoned usher, politely but firmly explained that no one gets to his seat without showing his ticket. And no one can walk up to courtside seats in the middle of a game, lest they distract the players.
All four fans are furious but everyone, even the rich and famous, follows the rules at Mr. Westley’s gate. Mr. Westley, who has been working at the Open for 20 years, was undeterred by the murmurings of the fans, first wiping them off with his green rag and ushering them into their seats.
“It just sets your back off,” he said, pocketing the rag. “A sense of humor works too.”
For two weeks a year, a narrow sliver of New York’s power structure draws fans of the fashionable and saucy to Queens where they are mentored by New Yorkers who barely make minimum wage.
“Nobody wants to get kicked out of a place where they’re paying $1,000 a ticket to get in, so most fans don’t want to escalate things,” said Jason Ashby, 36, another usher from the Bronx. He is one of several hundred people who work long hours to direct and seat ticket holders in the lower sections of Ashe as well as at Louis Armstrong Stadium and the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center in Queens.
Ushers are easily spotted in their blue polo shirts and white caps, which bear a patch indicating their seniority. For example, with 20 years, Mr. Westley is number 13, and with three years, Mr. Ashby is number 52.
The best referees are adept at finessing fans and maintaining the order of lob shots from matches that are usually televised live.
This includes ensuring that spectators are seated during the game and do not wander to find their seats, allowing the world’s top players to delay their service until order is restored.
“The last thing you want is a chair umpire announcement. It looks bad for us,” said Manny Diakantonis, a Queens usher who works at Ashe. “Then the camera picks it up, and the boss can see it on TV.”
Many ushers who are members of the Service Employees International Union also work at places like Madison Square Garden, Yankee Stadium and Citi Field, where the Mets play. But for this, fans fly from all over the world. Courtside seats have gone for more than $8,000 this year.
The Open is an island of affluence in a borough with a median household income of nearly $80,000 and a 13 percent poverty rate.
The event, run by the nonprofit US Tennis Association, generates more than $500 million in revenue, and most of the nearly 900,000 expected fans come and go on highways, subways and commuter trains in Queens without spending time elsewhere.
The Open has a very different vibe than a Mets game, where outside vendors sell knockoff hats, single beers and pretzels heated over shopping-cart fires.
At the Open, food, including a $34 lobster roll and a $32 glass of Moet, is very expensive, so many entrants bring their own food. Usher Steve Markert, 60, a retired public-school custodian from Queens, spends long days bringing his own salami and cheese. William Isaacs, 71, now in his 10th year at the Open, stays hydrated with bottled water that he mixes at home with lemon and organic honey.
His standard wage of $17.50 is often augmented by tips — sometimes more than $200 in a single shift, Mr. Diakantonis said.
His chilled-out demeanor — he says he’s attended more than 500 Grateful Dead shows — can lead to a New York attitude if fans break the rules.
Ashe’s lower-level walkabout fans often have to wait until intermission to enter games, so directors and ushers have the difficult task of keeping them back for several exciting minutes until the game is paused.
Most fans get exercise, said Mr. Ashby, who is fired up by cheering fans on and joking about tennis. However, some inevitably throw tantrums. “You have to stand your ground,” he said, even as a fan barked, as he once did, that “these are $1,000 seats.”
As the day wears on, New York’s crowds become more intense.
“People are drinking, some have come from stressful jobs in the city and they’re injured,” Mr Ashby said.
Nema Arnold, 41, of Queens — who is not an usher, but an employee of the tournament’s guest services division — diplomatically directs the stream of fans entering the lower section of grandstand court.
“Everybody here thinks they’re somebody,” she said. “A lot of people here aren’t used to hearing the word ‘no,’ because in their world, they’re the boss. But if they want to break the rules, we’ll be the boss.
She spied a fan who flashed a ticket on his phone that Ms. Arnold immediately flagged as bogus.; It was a screenshot — aka a duplicate — of the actual ticket held by his companion. The exposed fan walked away with a thud.
“We get it all the time,” Ms. Arnold said
Richard Thater, 85, of Queens, a tennis teacher who worked as an usher at the Open about 15 years ago, said eager fans tried to intimidate him several times, and a man, belligerent and well-dressed, tried to get him out. way
“You can’t push me aside just because you’re trying to get to your seat,” Mr. Thater said.
The new policy has eased some restrictions on movement, especially in the upper levels. But fans closest to the action still can’t get to their seats during the game. Some fans with Nosebleed seats Try to slip close to the court and then cause a commotion when busted, usher Tony Sparacino said.
“You have to remove them in a low-key way,” said Mr. Sparacino, who, like many consignors, has courted returning fans over the years.
Tony Ittleson, a regular who tipped off Mr. Westley after he showed up in his usual box near the court, called him one of the Open’s charms: the sports-minded ushers who are familiar faces.
“They are the soul of the tournament,” said Mr Ittleson, who heads the philanthropic foundation.
A handful of ushers have tenures from the West Side Tennis Club in nearby Forest Hills, where the tournament was played until it moved to its current location in 1978.
The No. 1 seniority patch belongs to Patrick Tarantino, who, as a boy, met a young Arthur Ash when his father worked as an usher in Forest Hills.
No. 2 is Kevin Roche, who said last week while seating fans in the upper deck of Louis Armstrong Stadium that he enjoyed the more intimate setting at Forest Hills.
No. 3 is Daniel Murray, 69, who recalled fans sitting on wooden benches when he began working the Open at Forest Hills more than half a century ago. He remembered watching the likes of Stan Smith and Jimmy Connors.
“Every year I say it’s my last year,” he said, “and every year I come back.”
One of the comparatively few female entrants, Bridget Hector (No. 27) pleads with the stragglers coming into her division.
“The play is about to start, and I need you in your seat,” she said
“You can’t be rude but sometimes you have to be tough,” she said. “Some people are always arguing, but the bottom line is that the ticket is boss.”
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