A few weeks ago, there was a huge crisis in New York City. No, not the 1,000-point dip in the Dow, the attempted car bomb in Times Square or an unexpected foie gras shortage. This was an event that made titans of industry tremble and the CEOs of Fortune 500 companies shake. It was all doctors, lawyers, bankers, brokers, fashion designers, Broadway actors, soap stars, interior designers and trust-fund babies could talk about at their $100-a-plate restaurants, and was the lead story on every station’s 11 o’clock news for two solid weeks: The doormen at New York apartment buildings were threatening to go on strike.

Oh, the humanity! All up and down Park and Fifth Avenues one could hear the sound of wailing and gnashing of teeth. The newspapers were full of front-page stories following the daily negotiations.

“How will we live?” “Where will we go?” went the lamentations of the wealthy. Building managers and the owners of two, three and four-million-dollar homes held meetings to set up schedules for tenants to share lobby duty in case the unthinkable were to happen. “This,” said one advertising executive as he climbed into the limo that would drive him to work, “could be worse than the elevator-operator strike.” Is there a person alive who can forget that tragedy?