Jean & Leo
Jean was the porter at the David Rubenstein Atrium and the first person I met at Lincoln Center when I started my journey there in 2010. By then, he had already dedicated fourteen years to the Atrium, following four years in the parking garage beneath Josie Robertson Plaza. With his deep knowledge of the campus, Jean quickly became my personal encyclopedia.
‘Jeano’
Born in Haiti, Jean was an enthusiastic fan of Brazilian football and reminisced about playing on the weekends with the local Haitians in Long Island (until their games got too competitive). He was popular among staff, known for running the American football sweepstakes each season. On Fridays, breathless colleagues often sought him out to settle dues for the weekly pot.
One day, while engrossed in a game of chess on my phone, Jean approached, looking surprised.
"Do you play?" I asked.
"Of course," he replied with a grin.
His peers affectionately called him "Jean with the big brain," and he lived up to the title. Jean often helped me with intricate event planning at the Atrium, and after accepting his chess challenge, he developed a habit of wandering over while we were mid-game to casually point out:
"You should have swapped queens, you’re going to lose this game."
And every time he made a prediction, he was right.
Jean spoke with a gentle Haitian accent, pronouncing Rs as Ws—my name, Roger, became Wudger. His keen sense of humor often peeked through in a chuckle that escaped when something amused him. He drove to work from Long Island daily and was almost always on time. He projected an unmistakable contentment with his role as the Atrium porter—something I envied as I struggled to settle into one role. I believe Jean will remain at Lincoln Center until retirement.
When I shared my project with him, he nodded his approval.
Security Officer Leo Distefano
Leo
I met Leo while working on the Visitor Services desk at the David Rubenstein Atrium in August 2010. He sat behind me monitoring security. He was a very large man who didn't speak at all for the first few days. I didn’t realize that he was a shy gentle giant with a slight stutter until I asked him what he had for breakfast one morning.
“For…for…breakfast?” He repeated. I nodded.
“For breakfast? I had a…a oatmeal and a…a coffee.”
He spoke with a Bowery boy accent, deep and melodic. There was an innocence to his response and he maintained an expression that was on the verge of smiling or waiting to be surprised whenever we spoke.
Leo repeated any word or question that I put to him, like he’d heard them for the first time. When he realized that I was from England he asked about the Queen. With a glint in my eye, I told him that she liked bacon for breakfast and loved Corgis.
“Corgis?”
“Yes, she owns lots of Corgis.”
“Corgis?”
“Yes.”
“What the hell is a Corgi?”
After we stopped laughing, I showed him an online image of the Queen with her Corgis and told him that she was very fond of them.
We became pals and spent our downtime discussing kale (he caught me eating a kale salad one day), and life in England. After seeing a trailer for the film Despicable Me, I told Leo that he reminded me of Gru from the movie. Before I left the Atrium to work across the street at the main Lincoln Center campus, I printed a picture of the Queen and her Corgis alongside Gru. I gave it to Leo and said: “Whenever you look at this picture you will think of me.”
After that, anytime I saw him on campus our conversations went something like this:
“Heyyyy Rahhhdge! You still eating kale?”
“Yep Leo, I’m still eating kale.”
“How’s the…the Queen?”
“She’s great, she sends her love.”
“How’s those Cor…Cor…Corgis?”
“They send their love too!”
