Since the New York City building is not open we decide to head up the Avenue of the Americas towards the Main Gate. The Main Gate itself, while very big, is not much to see. When we do poke around a bit we notice a few Parks Department workers hanging around which discourages us from further investigation. So, now we're off to the Singer Bowl which is now called Louis Armstrong Stadium. My friend and I tell my grandfather we will walk down New York Avenue and he can follow us with the car. Once again another big structure with no way in.

We only have one last chance to get inside an actual World's Fair structure and things aren't looking that good at this point. But it is getting late in the day and I promised my grandmother I wouldn't push my grandfather too much, bearing in mind his condition. I tell my grandfather that the big structure straight ahead is our last stop if that's OK with him. He says that's fine and continues to follow us with the car while my friend and I walk to the side that faces up the Court of States towards Unisphere. On this side, just a few short steps up where the lower courtyard begins is a large concrete wall about seven or eight feet high and four or five feet across. On the wall's face you can still see the faint outline of where a large eagle once was mounted. Above the wall on the building itself you can still make out "United States."

As my grandfather parks the car out front my friend and I venture up to the building hoping to get in. We are in luck! I see a hole big enough to fit through inside the fence that surrounds the lower courtyard. I run over to my grandfather and practically beg him if we can go inside and poke around a bit. At first he is hesitant to let us out of his sight but, I think after seeing my friends' and my enthusiasm, he gives in. As we dash through the hole and up the courtyard steps I hear my grandfather warning us to be careful.

Once inside the fence I notice that the surrounding reflecting pools are mostly empty except for some debris. The lower courtyard ceiling seems to be mostly intact although most if not all of the light bulbs are either broken or gone. Once we reach the top of the stairs it is very quiet except for the sounds of pigeons flapping around inside. There are two large planters at the top of the stairs on opposite ends of the courtyard. They still have trees inside of them which are obviously getting water through the roof opening when it rains. As we approach the glass doors I hear footsteps behind us coming up the courtyard stairs. My friend and I both freeze figuring either the police or the Parks Department personnel saw us come into the building and have come in after us. Much to my surprise, as the person nears the top of the stairs, it turns out to be my grandfather! As he gets to the top of the stairs I can see he is really out of breath. I ask him why did he come in after us and he looks up and smiles and says "Why should you two have all the fun." After allowing him to rest a few minutes and catch his breath we are begging to venture inside having fully covered the upper courtyard.

We notice that all of the glass doors that lead into the building are smashed. We carefully pick our way through one of them into what seems like a reception area. It is very dark inside with the only light coming from the door we just entered through. We can make out some smashed display cases and over on one wall is what appeared to once have been plaster letters glued to the wall forming an expression. The floor is covered with massive amounts of debris and broken glass but my friend and I are able to retrieve a few of those letters as souvenirs which we stick into our pockets. As we exit out into the courtyard again I wish I had thought to bring a flashlight with me today.

We then decide to try another entrance to see what we can find next. This space is in total shambles as we make our way up a large escalator to the second level. As we get to the top we enter a huge and empty space. The concrete floor is barren of anything. This area is better lit since there appears to be holes in the outer walls that are letting light inside here and there. The ceiling is very high and black but it appears as if some kind of large lighting or machinery of some type was mounted up there at one time. I can make out a white movie screen on one of the far walls, a dome is hanging in mid-air in one place, a long continuous arch over another. My friend and I walk around these structures trying to figure out their original purpose.

My friend and I run over to some of the holes where the light is coming in to further investigate with my grandfather not far behind. Some of them are big enough to fit our heads through. What we see is the outer curtain of multicolored panels that line the entire outside of the building. These panels appear to be three or four feet wide by about four or five feet tall. Each one is fastened to the outer wall of the building by a number of special brackets that allows each panel to butt up against each other to create a continuous glasslike curtain around the building. Even though they appear to be made of glass, each panel is actually about a half-inch thick and made of translucent molded plastic.

In the space between the outside wall of the building and the panels themselves are the remnants of the lighting fixtures that once lit the outside of the building. My grandfather explains to us that at the time these new type of quartz lamps had the ability to either focus light in a very tight beam or to bathe a structure such as this in light for a lot lower cost per unit to install, maintain and run. I can see that he is disappointed that they have been ruined beyond salvage at this point. As we pull our heads back inside my friend and I pick up a few chipped-off pieces of the multicolored panels to add to our souvenirs.

As we climb through another set of shattered doors onto the upper balcony we decide to try one more entrance. Climbing through the last set of shattered doors we enter another group of general reception and display areas. Once again everything we see is in ruins. Lighting fixtures are hanging from the ceiling and plasterboard has been pulled from the walls or bashed in right where it hung on the studs. The floor is littered with a huge amount of interior decor debris and junk brought in by the vandals. Once again we have to move around real carefully since there isn't much light apart from what is coming in though the broken glass doors to the courtyard.

On the far side of one room we find a staircase that leads up to the roof. This is a real treat since the view around the Park is spectacular once we climb them. Even though I'm afraid of heights I force myself to walk around and look over the edges and take some pictures.

As we are doing this we hear what appears to be a bullhorn in the distance. Once again my friend and I both freeze in our tracks. Feeling guilty about being where we know we shouldn't be with our car parked out front and my sick old grandfather lost somewhere between the upper courtyard and the roof, we carefully check each side of the building for police. Seeing nothing we both break down laughing hysterically. Hearing this my grandfather, who is one level below the roof, is yelling for us to tell him what is going on. Moving closer to his voice we find him on the level below the roof inspecting the air conditioning units which, he comments, are in surprisingly good condition. After we tell him that we thought the police had called out the swat team to surround the building, he figures we have taken enough chances for today and that we should leave now while we still can. Even though we wanted to explore more we know he is right since we have seen more than we ever imagined we would that day.

So, after carefully picking our way back down through all the rubble and taking time for my poor old grandfather to catch his breath, we finally found our way to the courtyard and the sweeping stairs down. As we get ready to make the final descent my friend notices some large gold plastic letters that look like they were attached at one time to the outside wall of the courtyard. One of them reminds me of the big "M" that Mary Tyler Moore has hanging on the wall in her apartment on her TV show. These are a real find and we each find one or two intact ones to take home with us.

Now, with our pockets full of real pieces of the World's Fair and our minds full of dreams of what once was here, we all jump into the car and are off; back home the same way we came in. As we get onto the LIE, once again windows down, radio blaring, my friend and I are overwhelmed by all we have seen and learned about the New York World's Fair today. About an hour later we arrive back home on Long Island after dropping my friend at his house. The first words out of my mother and grandmother's mouths is "what have you two been up to all this time?" As my grandfather goes to take a nap I get ready to tell them about the wonderful things they missed 11 years ago while they were busy drinking Seven-Up and eating cheap sandwiches!

What a special day this would turn out to be for me. In a little less than a year from my visit to the Park the U.S. Pavilion would be gone forever having finally been put out of its misery after too many years of neglect and abuse. Five years later my grandfather would be gone too. Though it's been almost 25 years since that day, if I close my eyes for a brief moment I can again smell the wild flowers doting the Park, hear the crack of bats, smell the hot dogs grilling on small barbecues and hear children laughing at play. But most importantly I hear my grandfather's rich voice telling me about a time when the world beat a path to that very spot to pause and rejoice in all the wonder that the world had to offer in 1964 and 1965.

To many, the Fair would provide a brief respite to a world so recently and tragically stunned by the loss of a young president. The Fair beckoned an innocent public that did not yet know that it was entering a war that would cause it to question its very core values and to a new generation who would later believe it could make a difference. It was a brief last time when we could still be awed by pure showmanship and hand-made razzle-dazzle. Sure the Fair was commercialism. But what was commercialism at the Fair? It was the best of American industry, its states and many new countries in the world saying "look where we have come from, look what we have accomplished and look where we're going. We're proud of this and we're excited about the future so come and join us for some fun at the World's Fair."

Many have said the Fair wasn't successful, but they're wrong. Let us remember that on a massive scale the Fair required a monumental amount of coordination, planning, financing, constructing, promoting and running to bring it all off. It may have stumbled along the way as is the case with any undertaking of this scope; but one thing it never seemed to do was disappoint its target audience. Other than my family and the critics, who Robert Moses once said "never build anything," I have never met anyone in 35 plus years since the Fair closed who said that they didn't have a great time going there. I guess that's why I can never spend too much time at the Fair myself -- even if it's only in my dreams.