E. B. White’s New York is a place of defiance. The New York City garbage man “[has] the city by the tail and [he knows] it” (195). A position that is so pitied by most people has the ability to control traffic, a power usually reserved for the highest city authority. But the garbage man is not alone is his rule; the walkers of the city have a mandate to use the roads as they please. They humor the unfortunate vehicle-drivers by looking to see if the road is clear, but both know who’s really in charge. In New York, the cars don’t let the pedestrians go; it is those on foot who allow cars to pass. But White describes the anticipation buried inside each New Yorker as he crosses the street: maybe today is the day when drivers defy expectations and barrel him down from the opposite direction. It could happen.

White describes a city where the small believe they have a unique advantage over the big. The homeless man finds satisfaction in his dearth of possessions; the workmen take pleasure in the perspective their strenuous job provides. New York defies you to discern native from visitor. Here everyone can be found in awe as though seeing New York for the first time.