Most people like to retire by the time they're in their 70s. But on the Upper East Side, a doorman who's been on the job for the last half century shows no signs of stopping. NY1's Michael Scotto filed the following report:
Manoel Teixeira has been greeting residents of 120 E. 90th. St. for as long as there has been a door here.
The 77-year-old started working at the apartment house in 1962, when it first opened. Fifty-five years later, he's believed to be the longest-serving doorman in New York.
"He's the new guy. Yes," one resident jokes.
"I always love to work with people," Teixeira says.
Teixeira got the job when he was 22, after his father was hired as the building's super.
Now he's a fixture not just in the building, but in this neighborhood on the Upper East Side, where he's known as the man in the uniform who never likes to sit.
"If I go to the movie theater, after an hour, I start moving," he says.
Teixeira starts moving at 3:30 every weekday morning at his New Jersey home. His PATH train usually pulls into the World Trade Center by 5:30, and then it's onto the subway.
Like clockwork, he stops at the same place for coffee, before opening his locker and changing into his uniform. He does it even when his knees beg him to stop... which is often.
"I have pains here, pains there. Who doesn't have pains here, pains there, at 77? Teixeira says.
For a while, Teixeira worked six days a week at the apartment house, and as the super in a nearby building.
He quit both jobs in 1982, and briefly moved to Costa Rica, determined to retire in his early 40s.
Ten a resident of the building visited and urged him to return.
"'Manny, you have to go back. You're gonna die here,'" he remembers being told.
So Teixeira resumed doing what he enjoys best: being a doorman. And the man who once wanted to retire early, has no use for retirement now.
"When this stops, working you're dead," he says.
Residents of 120 E. 90th. are just fine with Teixeira staying on the job.
"I can be in a bad mood and it changes immediately when I see his face," one says.
Adds another: "He's family"