New York
An Inside Look at the NYC Subway’s Archaic Signal System
Deep inside a subway station in Brooklyn, in a cramped, industrial room, Dyanesha Pryor pushes in a metal lever on a hulking machine that was installed nearly a century ago. A few hundred feet away, a signal light flashes red and a train that had been rumbling down the local tracks slides to a stop.
Ms. Pryor, a transit worker, pulls another lever and a section of rail shifts into place, allowing the local train to merge onto a shared track in front of a waiting express train. She then restores the signal to green and the local rolls into the station.
Ms. Pryor repeats this sequence — punctuated by the clank, clank, clank of the levers slamming into place — dozens of times over the course of the day in the hidden control room at the Hoyt-Schermerhorn station.
Thousands of subway riders a day depend on Ms. Pryor for a smooth commute. But if she has to unexpectedly step away, even for a bathroom break, all express service is rerouted to the local tracks until she returns. “Everybody has to go local because there’s nobody here to move the levers,” said Ms. Pryor, 35.
About 85 percent of New York City’s subway system still operates with this analog signal system. The outdated equipment is no longer manufactured and has to be manually operated, around the clock.
It’s no surprise then that the system is a leading cause of delays. Over the past 15 months, it has led to average of nearly 4,000 train delays a month, according to data from the Metropolitan Transportation Authority, the state agency that runs the city’s transit system.
The subway has long depended on “fixed block” signaling, a method of maintaining safe distances between trains that uses track circuits to detect the location of trains, wayside signals similar to traffic lights and mechanical trips to stop trains that pass a red light.
The authority is replacing the system with a modern upgrade known as communications-based train control, or C.B.T.C., which is becoming the standard for transit systems worldwide, including those in London and Paris. It relies on computers and wireless technology — instead of people — to automatically control train movements.
But the system upgrade is at risk. The Trump administration is attempting to kill congestion pricing, a tolling program in Manhattan that would raise billions of dollars for the work. The M.T.A.’s next capital budget could also be in jeopardy, if Washington follows through on its threats to defund transit projects in New York State.
Ancient Signals
New York’s subway is vastly more complicated to run than other major subway systems because it never closes and its trains crisscross tracks. The city’s subway has more than 200 crossing points known as “interlockings.”
Much of the old signal system is run from a network of underground control towers that sit beside the tracks. Inside each tower are operators like Ms. Pryor who change signals and switches.
About 300 operators like Ms. Pryor are stationed at interlocking machines, but their ranks are thinning as the subway has gradually moved to centralized controls. The work pays around $40 an hour on average, according to a Transport Workers Union wage sheet.
While the signaling system still works most of the time, it has become more fragile and unreliable with every passing year. Equipment and parts break or wear out. In January, a relay failure at the Hoyt-Schermerhorn station took about an hour to fix and delayed 25 trains.
“If you had a car from the 1930s and drove it every day you’d be lucky if it was still working like this, right?” said Salvatore Ambrosino, the M.T.A.’s chief officer for signals.
Fixed block signaling divides the tracks into blocks, or sections of roughly 1,000 feet on average, that carry an electrical current. When a train occupies a block, it cuts off the current, letting the system know its general position.
The system cannot pinpoint exactly where a train is, so a buffer of two or more blocks is maintained between every train to keep them at safe distances. But that limits how many trains can run at the same time. As subway ridership has grown, it has resulted in overcrowded cars and longer waits.
Modern Signals
The old signals are gradually being replaced with C.B.T.C., which keeps trains in constant contact with a centralized computer system that controls their every movement. This technology allows trains to run closer together, which means more trains on the tracks and faster service.
“Think of it like moving from a Walkman with all the moving parts to an iPhone that’s solid state,” said Jamie Torres-Springer, president of M.T.A. Construction & Development, which is overseeing the signal projects. “There’s no moving mechanical equipment — it’s all digital.”
In 2006, the L line became the first route to convert to the more modern system. The 7 line followed in 2018. Those routes now consistently have the best on-time performance.
C.B.T.C. has also been installed on sections of the E, F, M and R lines in Queens and the F line in Brooklyn.
The advantage of the new system is that computerized equipment is installed on every train to monitor its exact location and speed. The computers digitally manage signals and switches while routing the trains.
Mission Control
The home of C.B.T.C. is the M.T.A.’s Operations Control Center in Midtown Manhattan. Security is extremely tight and photos are rarely permitted.
Entering the control center is like walking onto the bridge of a spaceship. The nearly 21,000-square-foot room is almost half an acre in size with soaring 30-foot high ceilings. An entire wall is covered by a digital map showing trains moving in real time in Brooklyn, Manhattan and Queens.
Between 75 and 90 M.T.A. workers are on the floor, day or night, surrounded by 432 computer screens. They keep an eye on train movements, stepping in only to troubleshoot. Each time another route is converted to C.B.T.C., more workers join them.
The next round of projects will bring modern signals to 66 miles of track in Brooklyn and Manhattan. These tracks are shared by six different routes — the A, C, B, D, F and M lines — and carry about 1.6 million daily riders.
C.B.T.C. will eventually be expanded to subway routes across Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens and the Bronx.
But modernizing the signals, which have been called the subway’s central nervous system, is enormously expensive. While the transit authority has brought down costs significantly as the scale of work has increased, installing C.B.T.C. costs about $25 million per mile. The work also includes overhauling tracks and infrastructure and retrofitting trains.
M.T.A. officials are counting on $3 billion from New York’s congestion pricing program to pay for the new signaling system. But that funding is in question now that President Trump has vowed to kill the program.
The authority is also pushing for $5.4 billion to install C.B.T.C. on another 75 miles of subway lines in a $68 billion capital plan being considered by the State Legislature in Albany.
If the money does not come through, riders will notice it during their commutes, said Andrew Rein, president of the Citizens Budget Commission, a watchdog group, which supports the signal upgrades.
“Modern signals mean faster, more reliable commutes,” he said. “Failure to update our antiquated signals means slower trains, more delays and explaining to your boss why you are late, again.”
New York
Read the Indictment Against Nicolás Maduro
intentionally and knowingly combined, conspired, confederated, and agreed together and with each other to violate Title 18, United States Code, Section 924(c).
35. It was a part and an object of the conspiracy that NICOLÁS MADURO MOROS, DIOSDADO CABELLO RONDÓN, RAMÓN RODRÍGUEZ CHACÍN, CILIA ADELA FLORES DE MADURO, NICOLÁS ERNESTO MADURO GUERRA, a/k/a “Nicolasito,” a/k/a “The Prince,” and HECTOR RUSTHENFORD GUERRERO FLORES, a/k/a “Niño Guerrero,” the defendants, and others known and unknown, during and in relation to a drug trafficking crime for which they may be prosecuted in a court of the United States, to wit, for MADURO MOROS, CABELLO RONDÓN, and RODRÍGUEZ CHACÍN, the controlled substance offenses charged in Counts One and Two of this Superseding Indictment, and for FLORES DE MADURO, MADURO GUERRA, and GUERRERO FLORES, the controlled substance offense charged in Count Two of this Superseding Indictment, knowingly used and carried firearms, and, in furtherance of such crimes, knowingly possessed firearms, and aided and abetted the use, carrying, and possession of firearms, to wit, machineguns that were capable of automatically shooting more than one shot, without manual reloading, by a single function of the trigger, as well as destructive devices, in violation of Title 18, United States Code, Sections 924(c)(1)(A) and 924(c)(1)(B)(ii). (Title 18, United States Code, Sections 924(o) and 3238.)
36.
FORFEITURE ALLEGATIONS
As a result of committing the controlled substance offense charged in Count One of this Superseding Indictment, NICOLÁS MADURO MOROS, DIOSDADO CABELLO RONDÓN, RAMÓN RODRÍGUEZ CHACÍN, the defendants, shall forfeit to the United States, pursuant to Title 21, United States Code, Sections 853 and 970, any and all property constituting, or derived from, any proceeds the defendants obtained, directly or indirectly, as a result of the offenses, and any and all property used, or intended to be used, in any manner or part, to commit,
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New York
Video: New York City Hit With Heaviest Snowfall in Years
new video loaded: New York City Hit With Heaviest Snowfall in Years
transcript
transcript
New York City Hit With Heaviest Snowfall in Years
A winter storm blanketed the Greater New York area, leading to more than 400 flight cancellations across the region’s major airports. Parts of Long Island saw up to nine inches of snow.
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I think it was absolutely beautiful. We’re from North Carolina, so it was great to come up to New York and see the snow.
By Jorge Mitssunaga
December 27, 2025
New York
Vote For the Best Metropolitan Diary Entry of 2025
Every week since 1976, Metropolitan Diary has published stories by, and for, New Yorkers of all ages and eras (no matter where they live now): anecdotes and memories, quirky encounters and overheard snippets that reveal the city’s spirit and heart.
For the past four years, we’ve asked for your help picking the best Diary entry of the year. Now we’re asking again.
We’ve narrowed the field to the five finalists here. Read them and vote for your favorite. The author of the item that gets the most votes will receive a print of the illustration that accompanied it, signed by the artist, Agnes Lee.
The voting closes at 11:59 p.m. on Sunday, Dec. 21. You can change your vote as many times as you’d like until then, but you may only pick one. Choose wisely.
Click “VOTE” to choose your favorite Metropolitan Diary entry of 2025, and come back on Sunday, Dec. 28, to see which one our readers picked as their favorite.
Click “VOTE” to choose your favorite Metropolitan Diary entry of 2025, and come back on Sunday, Dec. 28, to see which one our readers picked as their favorite.
Two Stops
Dear Diary:
It was a drizzly June night in 2001. I was a young magazine editor and had just enjoyed what I thought was a very blissful second date — dinner, drinks, fabulous conversation — with our technology consultant at a restaurant in Manhattan.
I lived in Williamsburg at the time, and my date lived near Murray Hill, so we grabbed a cab and headed south on Second Avenue.
“Just let me out here,” my date said to the cabby at the corner of 25th Street.
We said our goodbyes, quick and shy, knowing that we would see each other at work the next day. I was giddy and probably grinning with happiness and hope.
“Oh boy,” the cabby said, shaking his head as we drove toward Brooklyn. “Very bad.”
“What do you mean?” I asked in horror.
“He doesn’t want you to know exactly where he lives,” the cabby said. “Not a good sign.”
I spent the rest of the cab ride in shock, revisiting every moment of the date.
Happily, it turned out that my instinct about it being a great date was right, and the cabby was wrong. Twenty-four years later, my date that night is my husband, and I know that if your stop is first, it’s polite to get out so the cab can continue in a straight line to the next stop.
Ferry Farewell
Dear Diary:
On a February afternoon, I met my cousins at the Staten Island Ferry Terminal. Their spouses and several of our very-grown children were there too. I brought Prosecco, a candle, a small speaker to play music, photos and a poem.
We were there to recreate the wedding cruise of my mother, Monica, and my stepfather, Peter. They had gotten married at City Hall in August 1984. She was 61, and he, 71. It was her first marriage, and his fourth.
I was my mother’s witness that day. It was a late-in-life love story, and they were very happy. Peter died in 1996, at 82. My mother died last year. She was 100.
Peter’s ashes had waited a long time, but finally they were mingled with Monica’s. The two of them would ride the ferry a last time and then swirl together in the harbor forever. Cue the candles, bubbly, bagpipes and poems.
Two ferry workers approached us. We knew we were in trouble: Open containers and open flames were not allowed on the ferry.
My cousin’s husband, whispering, told the workers what we were doing and said we would be finished soon.
They walked off, and then returned. They said they had spoken to the captain, and they ushered us to the stern for some privacy. As the cup of ashes flew into the water, the ferry horn sounded two long blasts.
Unacceptable
Dear Diary:
I went to a new bagel store in Brooklyn Heights with my son.
When it was my turn to order, I asked for a cinnamon raisin bagel with whitefish salad and a slice of red onion.
The man behind the counter looked up at me.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t do that.”
Teresa
Dear Diary:
It was February 2013. With a foot of snow expected, I left work early and drove from New Jersey warily as my wipers squeaked and snow and ice stuck to my windows.
I drove east on the Cross Bronx Expressway, which was tied up worse than usual. Trucks groaned on either side of my rattling Toyota. My fingers were cold. My toes were colder. Got to get home before it really comes down, I thought to myself.
By the time I got home to my little red bungalow a stone’s throw from the Throgs Neck Bridge, the snow was already up to my ankles.
Inside, I took off my gloves, hat, scarf, coat, sweater, pants and snow boots. The bed, still unmade, was inviting me. But first, I checked my messages.
There was one from Teresa, the 92-year-old widow on the corner.
“Call me,” she said, sounding desperate.
I looked toward the warm bed, but … Teresa. There was a storm outside, and she was alone.
On went the pants, the sweater, the coat, the scarf, the boots and the gloves, and then I went out the door.
The snow was six inches deep on the sidewalks, so I tottered on tire tracks in the middle of the street. The wind stung my face. When I got to the end of the block, I pounded on her door.
“Teresa!” I called. No answer. “Teresa!” I called again. I heard the TV blaring. Was she sprawled on the floor?
I went next door and called for Kathy.
“Teresa can’t answer the door,” I said. “Probably fell.”
Kathy had a key. In the corner of her neat living room, Teresa, in pink sweatpants and sweaters, was sitting curled in her armchair, head bent down and The Daily News in her lap.
I snapped off the TV.
Startled, she looked up.
“Kathy! Neal!” she said. “What’s a five-letter word for cabbage?”
Nice Place
Dear Diary:
When I lived in Park Slope over 20 years ago, I once had to call an ambulance because of a sudden, violent case of food poisoning.
Two paramedics, a man and a woman, entered our third-floor walk-up with a portable chair. Strapping me in, the male medic quickly inserted an IV line into my arm.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his partner circling around and admiring the apartment.
“Nice place you’ve got here.” she said. “Do you own it?”
“Yeah,” I muttered, all but unconscious.
Once I was in the ambulance, she returned to her line of inquiry.
“Do you mind me asking how much you paid for your apartment?”
“$155,000,” I croaked.
“Wow! You must have bought during the recession.”
“Yeah” I said.
They dropped me off at Methodist Hospital, where I was tended to by a nurse as I struggled to stay lucid.
At some point, the same medic poked her head into the room with one last question:
“You wouldn’t be wanting to sell any time soon, would you?”
Illustrations by Agnes Lee.
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