Dropping the ball

NEW YORK -- Only one man holds the key to this room deep under Times Square, where the only sounds are a hissing pipe and a rumbling subway overhead. Behind the blue padlocked door are the pieces of the New Year's ball that will mark midnight as it slides 77 feet down a pole atop One Times Square.

The crystal sphere lands amid the gritty water tanks, rickety planks and iron grates that fill the rooftop of this building -- one of the most recognizable in the world. The 25-story tower has hosted New Year celebrations since it opened in 1904, with the famous "ball drop" added in 1907.

For all its exterior glamour, though, One Times Square is a bit like an amusement park funhouse -- more glitz than guts.

The building is covered on the outside with billboards, flashing lights and an electronic news zipper, but it is virtually empty inside. Countdown Entertainment, which co-produces the annual Dec. 31 event, is the only tenant on its 21st and 22nd floors.

"This whole building is a promotional event," Countdown president Jeff Strauss said.

One Times Square earns most of its keep as a backbone for billboards, electronic ads and the New Year's ball. It serves as "an icon of advertising and modern culture," says entertainment analyst Louis Brill.

Dust balls

Inside, its labyrinth of staircases, halls and elevators are dotted with dust balls and wrapped in an eerie hush. On a recent afternoon, the New Year's crew was assembling the ball in the basement room.

Strauss has the only key and he's guarding a secret: the new pattern of Waterford crystal triangles for this year's ball. An electrician unwraps 72 triangles from boxes that arrived from Ireland; more than 400 other crystals peek from metal storage trunks. Nearby sits the metal "skeleton" that holds the crystals, the pulsating strobe lights and hundreds of other bulbs.

Days before the big night, the 1,070-pound ball is moved to the roof. Its halves are clipped onto the steel pole that rises toward the sky, along with steam wafting up from a giant "hot" noodle soup advertisement below.

On New Year's Eve, the rooftop will become a maze of cables and wires.

"The light power is the equivalent of a Broadway show," says John Trowbridge, a production lighting expert who will direct the crew looking down on hundreds of thousands of revelers expected at Times Square.

One Times Square opened a century ago as headquarters of The New York Times in what was then known as Long Acre Square. Originally called Times Tower, the new limestone Beaux Arts structure was one of the tallest in the world.

The neighborhood was soon renamed Times Square, though the newspaper moved out a decade later. The news zipper, billed as the world's first moving sign, was added in 1928.

One Times Square remained a fairly ordinary office building through much of the last century. In the 1960s, Allied Chemical bought the graceful edifice, stripped it down to its steel core and recoating it with window panels.

The building passed through various hands as the neighborhood was transformed into today's family-friendly hub. To its current owner, the flashy exterior and location matter most.

"If a sign was erected indicating that Times Square is the Crossroads of the World, it would be on this building," says Jeffrey Katz, head of Sherwood Equities, which manages the building.

Like its host, today's New Year's ball is a high-tech marvel with a computer-controlled electric motor and winch. The first ball -- 600 pounds of iron -- was fueled mainly by imagination.

A Ukrainian-born metalworker was inspired by maritime practices born in the 18th century, when gold-painted "time" balls were lowered in seaports to signal noon, allowing ships to set their navigation devices before sailing.

"The lowering of the ball in Times Square was an instant hit, one of those images people responded to on a very deep level, even if they didn't know why," says Artkraft Strauss president Tama Starr, who spent 19 New Year's Eves atop the building when her company ran the event.

"It was hard, cold work -- harder than it looks," Starr wrote in her book, "Signs and Wonders: The Spectacular Marketing of America."

"But," she added, "magic always looks easy."