Too Horrifying to Think About

When I am in New York City, I work out of an office on the 71st floor of the Empire State Building. I was working there on Friday when the receptionist returned from her break, "Someone jumped!" Apparently, when she attempted to go down for coffee, one side of the building was roped off on 33rd St.

Details were scarce. What we heard was that a foot fell to the street. At first, we heard it was a woman. Then the men that work in the lobby at the elevators told us it was a man. And he jumped from the 69th floor.

I have looked out the windows of our office. It's mind blowing. I can barely look down. We have even opened the window at times (the windows are huge- there are no safety railings of any sort, and they are designed to be able to be open all the way.) When we open the windows, the wind is so strong that it sucks out any papers that we have on our desk. I've made that mistake more than once.

Later, we learned more. It was a young man, thirty one years old. A man named Moshe Kanovsky. A lawyer from Brooklyn. He jumped from his law office window. A colleague told police that Moshe had been interviewing a client in one room, simply got up, left the room, went into another room and jumped. His body hit a ledge on the 30th floor and it severed his leg. The leg fell to the street. The foot was still covered with a dark gray sock. Oddly, it wasn't the co-workers or the client that called 911; it was passersby on the street.

I cannot imagine choosing this particular method of death. As I thought about this young man, I tried to imagine what could possibly have led him to this moment. I tried not to think about it, but I couldn't help imagining the fall. It would take far too long. Too much time to think.

The Empire State Building has an aura of nostalgia. The architecture, of course. The history. Now it feels a bit like an homage to the World Trade Center. Sort of like the "runner-up" taking over the duties of the winner. The interior is beautiful, majestic. It's hard to explain, but the building has a personality. It feels powerful. Intimidating. Beautiful, yet dangerous.

The building has a monthly newsletter that is sent to all of the offices. I remember several months ago they did a story about the history of suicides at the building (there have been more than 30). It seemed like a morbid article to me- it almost glorifed the subject. In 1979 a woman jumped off the 86th floor, only to be blown back into the 85th floor, suffering only a broken hip.

The article also said that fourteen people died when a plane crashed into the building. An elevator operator survived a 75 story elevator drop during the fire.


Five men died while the building was being constructed: one worker was struck by a truck; a second fell down an elevator shaft; a third was hit by a hoist; a fourth was in a blast area; and a fifth fell off a scaffold.


The spirit of this building is so strong, that it overshadows the death of one young man. I've been waiting to hear more about him.

When I left work on Friday, my elevator was crowded. People were chatting, typical Friday night chat. The elevator stopped on the 69th floor. A man got on the elevator. He smiled and greeted someone else on the elevator that he knew. They were discussing some meeting they had attended that day and how they were glad it was over.

As I walked outside, the tourist line stretched around the block as usual. The sidewalks were crowded. I turned and looked up at the building, an act that no New York native ever does. I couldn't even see the top of the building from where I stood. I felt a chill, and I felt sad.