Until 1952, when it settled in its permanent headquarters on the East River, the United Nations was a transient in search of a home. In its first few years, it moved from temporary quarters in a midtown Manhattan hotel to quarters at Hunter College in the Bronx, then settled for four years in the former Sperry Gyroscope plant on Long Island. Those who put stock in omens should have been pleased with the symbolism: the peace organization occupying a site that had housed a supplier of war material and whose postal address was Lake Success. Assembly sessions were held in a converted indoor skating rink at Flushing Meadow, with diplomats and staff members shuttling between the two sites.
Big Power relations were deteriorating ominously. Still, there was a heady excitement about the United Nations. At least in the early years, New York was pleased to be looked on as the world's capital, especially during the fall 1946 Assembly session, which brought thousands of foreign dignitaries to the city. Crowds would gather outside the Waldorf-Astoria for a glimpse of the Saudi princes in their robes and the motorcades whipping through midtown.
The converted plant was an ugly, sprawling collection of jerry-built offices and miles of corridors. There was a cafeteria, which everybody used at times, and a diplomats' lounge, which was more than a mere watering hole. Here diplomacy was conducted in quiet corners. Meeting rooms and offices were all on one floor, creating a certain intimacy-and a chance for a close-up look at men and women engaged in a historic adventure.
Where the United Nations would make its permanent home was a major preoccupation for the delegates and for Lie and his staff. A search committee toured Westchester towns and found that some were downright hostile to the notion of playing host to the organization. The members considered San Francisco fondly. Too far for the Soviets. Philadelphia? "How can you put the capital of the world in a town that has both baseball clubs in last place?" quipped Herbert Evart, the Australian foreign minister. A proffered gift from John D. Rockefeller, Jr., of $8.5 million to purchase an 18-acre site on Manhattan's East Side resolved the issue.
Designing the structures was another matter. For months speculation ran riot. There were reports that the theme would be Mayan. An Egyptian artist offered a design for a capitol with its own riverside dock, and sketched in a few feluccas. Wallace K. Harrison, the architect in charge of planning, drew a rough pen sketch on a tablecloth. A newsman whipped the cloth off and photographed the drawing, and the picture ran in The New York Times. The soaring Secretariat building, flanked by a low-lying domed Assembly, was recognizable in the crude sketch.
By: Kathleen Teltsch, (excerpt from The Early Years), from: A Global Affair: An Inside Look at the United Nations, published by Jones & Janello, copyright 1995, all rights reserved.
