This is a story about the death of elevators as I have known them.
It’s a personal story, I admit, but having talked to a number of people about the situation, I find I am neither a minority of one, nor am I a majority.
As in many things in life, say soft drinks, the world divides into two groups, Pepsi drinkers and Coke drinkers. There is no gray area: You are either one or the other. Such is the case with tenants and visitors to the Hanna Building: They either enjoy the elevator ride modern technology provides or they don’t. There is no middle ground.
To understand the importance of the impact the Hanna Building’s new elevators will have on the future of mankind, we need to begin with what the old elevators contributed to life. As I say, I know no other way than to make this story personal.
All my life I worked in office buildings with elevators. I didn’t care whether the commute to work was good or bad because I knew there was adventure ahead: my morning elevator ride. I never knew who I was going to meet or what they were going to say. It was a great way to start the day.
When I was young and ambitious, an elevator ride was an opportunity to meet the company president and make sure (a) he knew my name, and (b) knew he was talking to one of his most talented employees.
Then when I got into journalism, an elevator ride was the way to get the daily news. I would get to hear about the weather, the Browns, City Hall and the economy.
Elevator news was the best deal in town. You got the news, and even better, you got to find out what people thought about the news.
And, yes, I got a chance to use elevators for what they were originally intended: to meet the opposite sex.
It is no accident a salesman’s best weapon is called an elevator pitch. It is the supreme test of the world’s greatest salesman to create a spiel so good a prospect can’t say no.
To this day my finest hour in sales — more precisely, my finest two minutes — was the elevator pitch I used to snag a date with the woman who became my wife. You can understand why I have a love affair with elevators.
However, for some reason, the owners of The Hanna Building, one of downtown Cleveland’s landmark office buildings, decided to install the most modern elevator system ever invented. As you enter the ground floor elevator bank, you will find a computer screen with numerals below it. When you punch your floor number the screen directs you to your elevator.
You learn to run to one of 10 elevators lettered A through J before it closes or you must select again. If someone shouts, “Hold the elevator,” you ignore them since there are no controls inside to direct the elevator to another floor.
You then often proceed to your floor in solitude: You ride alone.
The benefits of these technologically advanced elevators have been well received by those who spend their time e-mailing, talking and texting. For those who enjoy interacting with other people, there are no benefits. They have lost a small piece of what they once enjoyed.
Where once I was the only one to miss the camaraderie of the old elevators, I have found — just like Coke and Pepsi — the building has divided in two groups: those who miss people and those who don’t.
In two short months the Hanna Building has become a symbol of the struggle we all face in balancing the benefits of technology with the need to build human relationships.
For many, the new elevators are signs of progress. Unfortunately, I’m not one of them.
I will miss the fun of meeting people I never would have had the chance to meet. As a devoted fan of the old elevators, not the new, I can only say in my defense: I wasn’t born to ride alone.