Lou Acquavita, Caretaker Of The "Little Apple By JEREMY OLSHAN

The budget is tight, the infrastructure is aging, and a thin layer of dust has settled on the surface of the Hudson River.

But for Lou Acquavita, it’s just another morning in New York.

A first time visitor, I waited at the gates of the capitol of the world, dreaming like those before me of the wonders that lie inside.

"Stay here a minute," Acquavita called from above. "I have to turn it on first."

Mopping the Hudson River, vaccuming Queens Boulevard, and changing the sun’s lightbulbs is all in a day’s work for Lou Acquavita (right) and John Poulson (left). Tribune Photo By Dee Richard

The disappointment of learning that the city does in fact occasionally sleep was quickly eclipsed by the overpowering sunlight filling-in the shadowy crevices between the buildings and bridges.

"Okay, there’s light now," said Acquavita, seeming to take for granted the biblical proportions of this gesture.

Acquavita then strapped on a pair of foam "moon boots," and began a somewhat awkward stroll through his five borough domain. Standing over a mile tall, Acquavita carefully bobbed and wove through the boroughs, taking care not to crush a neighborhood, housing project or historic district in the process.

Like a divine spirit hovering over New York with a feather duster, Acquavita is the caretaker of the "Little Apple," the Panorama of New York City, at the Queens Museum.

Constructed as part of the 1964 World’s Fair, the Panorama was the centerpiece of the New York City pavilion. The world’s largest architectural scale model, the Panorama, as envisioned by Robert Moses, would turn pawns into power brokers.

But while the 9,335 square foot model of every street, building, and bridge in the city was intended as an urban planning teaching tool, the Panorama soon became a time capsule, preserving a city that had since undergone dramatic changes. In 1992, the Queens Museum, revamped the Panorama, brought it architecturally up to date, and redesigned the space for a more hands-on view of the city.

Visiting the Panorama is a humbling experience. One is overcome by the vastness of the city, while at the same time all too aware of his relative insignificance next to the megalopolis.

However, like the real city that it represents, the "Little Apple" has many challenges to overcome.

That’s where Acquavita comes in. As Facilities Manager of the Queens Museum of Art, Acquavita is charged with the task of maintaining the day to day operations of this smaller New York.

This includes making sure the Hudson and East rivers are regularly mopped, that Flushing, Park Slope, and the East Village are vacuumed for dust and fallen debris, and that the bulbous sun and moon stay in working order.

A special bridge was designed that could be put in place over Manhattan from the Hudson to the East River, so that workers could clean the dense clusters of Midtown skyscrapers. With a special vacuum strapped to your back, it would take about a month to clean the entire city, said Acquavita. "It’s an extremely tedious job."

But like the Big Apple in years past, the Little Apple is experiencing fiscal woes, and has recently been forced to cut back on maintenance, said Acquavita.

Because much of the infrastructure of the Big Apple is nearly a hundred years old, there is constant road construction, and water main breaks.

The Little Apple, whose 275 sections are now a 34-years old antique, shares its big brother’s dilemma.

"Although our BQE is in much better shape than the real one," said Robert Mahoney, the museum’s spokesperson.

Walking on the surface of Staten Island, Acquavita points out the street and the house in which he grew up. Noticing that several Monopoly-like houses have shifted out of place, he kneels down and corrects the situation.

"One of the biggest problems is fallen debris," said Acquavita. "People lean over the edge and drop pens, buttons, and pennies. These all have to be fished out of the city."

Acquavita then retraced his commute to the Queens Museum in a matter of seconds, noting that traffic is not a concern when you are over 5,000 feet tall.

"There are footprints in the Hudson," said Acquavita pointing out the environmental anomaly to Maintenance Assistant John Poulson.

Poulson arrives on the scene with a mop the size of Central Park.

While removing the blemish on the otherwise pristine river, Acquavita said that the job had given him a whole new appreciation of the task Mayor Giuliani and the city face in maintaining the real city.

But for Acquavita, who is the departments of Transportation, Sanitation, Buildings, and the Port Authority rolled into one, it’s a "piece of cake."