A MORGUE is a place where bodies are stored; a newspaper’s morgue is a place where clippings are filed. Bodies lie in a morgue temporarily, awaiting burial; clippings are not buried, but slumber in their folders until the moment when someone wants to hear their stories.
The Master’s Voice has been publishing out of a building on West 43rd Street for almost a century. During that time, different aspects of its operations have moved here and there within the structure. Most of the morgue now rests below ground, in the vast basement caverns that once held the printing presses. I was given a tour of the morgue by one of its caretakers, whom I had met at a party.





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