Arriving late to Arthur Ashe Stadium, four cocktail-cradling fans waltzed toward their courtside U.S. Open seats like it was an extended happy hour.
Then, they ran into Edwin Westley.
Mr. Westley, 80, a veteran usher, explained politely but firmly that no one gets to their place without showing their tickets. And no one can walk up to a courtside seat in the middle of a game, lest they distract the players.
The four fans groused but everyone, even the rich and famous, follow the rules at Mr. Westley’s gate. Mr. Westley, who has been working the Open for 20 years, maneuvered them into their seats, wiping them first with his green rag, unperturbed at the fans’ grumblings.
“It just rolls off your back,” he said, pocketing the rag. “A sense of humor works too.”
For two weeks a year, a narrow slice of New York’s power structure is upended as fashionable and soignée fans tramp out to Queens where they fall under the direction of New Yorkers who are barely making minimum wage.
“No one wants to get kicked out of a place they’re paying $1,000 a ticket to be in, so most fans don’t want to escalate things,” said another usher, Jason Ashby, 36, from the Bronx. He is one of several hundred people who work long hours directing and seating ticket holders in the lower sections of Ashe, as well as Louis Armstrong Stadium and several smaller courts at the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center in Queens.
The ushers are easily spotted in their blue polo shirts and white caps, which bear a patch indicating their seniority. With 20 years, Mr. Westley is number 13, for example, and Mr. Ashby with three years is number 52.
The best ushers are adept at finessing demanding fans and maintaining order a lob shot from matches that are usually broadcast live.
This involves making sure that spectators are seated during play and not wandering around searching for their spots, which can cause the world’s top players to delay their serve until order is restored.
“The last thing you want is an announcement by the chair umpire. That looks bad for us,” said Manny Diacantonis, an usher from Queens who works in Ashe. “Then the cameras pick it up, and the bosses can see it on TV.”
Many of the 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 in from all over the world. Courtside seats this year have gone for more than $8,000.
The Open is an island of affluence in a borough with a median household income of about $80,000 and a 13 percent poverty rate.
The event, which is run by the nonprofit U.S. Tennis Association, brings in more than $500 million in revenue and most of the nearly 900,000 expected fans come and go on highways, subways and commuter trains without spending much time elsewhere in Queens.
The Open has a very different vibe than a Mets game, where vendors outside sell knockoff hats, single beers and pretzels heated over shopping-cart fires.
At the Open, food and drink is notoriously costly, including a $34 lobster roll and a $32 glass of Moët, so many ushers bring their own meals. Usher Steve Markart, 60, a retired public-school custodian from Queens, gets through long days by bringing his own salami and cheese. William Isaacs, 71, now in his 10th year ushering at the Open, stays hydrated with bottles of water he mixes at home with lemon and organic honey.
Their standard wage of $17.50 is often augmented by tips — sometimes more than $200 a shift, Mr. Diacantonis said.
His chilled-out demeanor — he says he has attended more than 500 Grateful Dead shows — can take on a bit of New York attitude if fans break the rules.
Since walkabout fans in Ashe’s lower level often must wait until breaks between games to enter, directors and ushers have the dicey task of holding them back for several excruciating minutes until play is paused.
Most fans get the drill, said Mr. Ashby, who heads off flare-ups by schmoozing fans and bantering about tennis. Still, some inevitably throw tantrums. “You have to stand your ground,” he said, even if a fan barks, as one once did, that “these are $1,000 seats.”
New York crowds get more rowdy as day turns to evening.
“People are drinking, some have just come from stressful jobs in the city and they’re wound up,” 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 streams of fans entering the lower section of the Grandstand court.
“Everybody here thinks they’re somebody,” she said. “A lot of people here are not used to hearing the word ‘no,’ because in their world, they’re the boss. But if they want to break the rules, we become the boss.”
She spied a fan who flashed a ticket on their phone that Ms. Arnold immediately flagged as bogus.; it was a screenshot — a.k.a. duplicate — of a real ticket held by her companion. The busted fan sheepishly walked away.
“We get that all the time,” Ms. Arnold said
Richard Thater, 85, of Queens, a tennis teacher who worked as an usher at the Open some 15 years ago, said impatient fans tried to bully him several times and one man, belligerent and well-dressed, tried to shove him out of the way.
“You can’t push me aside just because you’re trying to get to your seat,” Mr. Thater said, adding, “Some fans look at you like you’re the guy flipping burgers, like you’re the help.”
A new policy has eased some restrictions on moving about, especially in the upper tiers. But fans closest to the action still cannot make their way to their seats during play. Some fans with nosebleed seats try to slip closer to the court and then put up a fuss when busted, said usher Tony Sparacino.
“You have to remove them in a low-key way,” said Mr. Sparacino, who, like many ushers, has endeared himself to returning fans over the years.
Tony Ittleson, a regular who tipped Mr. Westley after being shown to his usual box near the court, called it one of the charms of the Open: Ushers steeped in the sport who are familiar faces.
“They’re the soul of the tournament,” said Mr. Ittleson, who heads a philanthropic foundation.
A handful of ushers have tenures that date back to 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 is held by Patrick Tarantino, who as a boy, when his father worked as an usher at Forest Hills, met a young Arthur Ashe.
No. 2 is Kevin Roche who, while seating fans last week in an upper deck of the Louis Armstrong Stadium, said he enjoyed the more intimate setting at Forest Hills.
No. 3 is Daniel Murray, 69, who recalled that fans sat on wooden benches when he began working the Open more than a half century ago at Forest Hills. He recalled watching the likes of Stan Smith and Jimmy Conners.
“Every year I say it’s my last year,” he said, “and every year I come back.”
One of a comparatively few female ushers, Bridget Hector (No. 27) urged on stragglers arriving at her section.
“Play is about to start, and I need you at your seat,” she said
“You can’t be rude but there are times you have to be stern,” she said. “Some people are always going to argue, but the bottom line is, the ticket is the boss.”
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