The effects of depression and war reduced both the physical glamor and the prestige and self-confidence of the glittering giant of the twenties. Only at the mid-century, when an economic upswing prompted large-scale new construction, and the location of the United Nations in the metropolis underlined New York's position as a world capital, did the city's dynamism exert again its customary spell.
The impact of the depression engrossed the attention of commentators of the thirties, especially between 1931 and 1935. Queues of unemployed; men, obviously of good background, selling apples at the street corners; the destitute sleeping in Central Park--sights such as these convinced European visitors that reputedly invincible New York had been harder hit by the crisis than many parts of Europe. They noted the seeming paralysis at the wharves, the stores for rent and sales at broad reductions, the half-empty skyscrapers-"tombstones of capitalism . . . with windows," as one observer wrote, referring to the R.C.A. Building which was rising skyward in the thirties. On a Saturday night in 1931, a French visitor counted less than 300 spectators at the Roxy theatre, where "a year ago . . . it was necessary to stand in line an hour" for one of its 3,000 seats.
