Times have been tough lately.

But stop for a moment and consider what life must have been like in, say, 1931. At that time, the country was two years into the Great Depression, and it would be another two years before there would be any sign of recovery. Approximately 25% of all working-age people were without jobs, and would remain unemployed for years. Throughout the country, one-third of all farmers had lost their homes, their lands, or their lives. And in the cities, the epicenter of the pain was the construction industry; almost no new building projects had been started since the crash of ’29.

In New York City, on Christmas Eve, a group of men had gathered in an empty lot at the intersection of 6th Avenue and 50th Street. They were a desperate-looking bunch, dressed in ragged overalls and tattered hats which barely kept them warm. They could easily have been mistaken for hobos or vagabonds. But, incongruously, they weren’t milling about hopelessly; they were ordered in a line that led up to a wooden box. Stranger still, behind that box stood a few more men, dressed in suits and ties. As each of the desperate men stepped up to the box, he was greeted with a handshake. And handed a piece of paper that must have seemed like a miracle.

These men were the lucky ones, the few that actually had something to celebrate. That’s because, two years earlier, this site had been chosen to be the home for a new Metropolitan Opera House. A development syndicate had leased the property from Columbia University, and had almost begun construction. But then the market crashed, and all of their plans, and indeed the syndicate itself, were destroyed. And that would have been the end of the story, had it not been for one of the investor’s refusal to quit. John D. Rockefeller, Jr. took another look at the site, and drew up a new plan for developing a commercial complex that would include 14 buildings spread over 8 acres. It was an audacious project, which no banks or investors would support. Undeterred, Rockefeller decided to fund the entire thing himself. It would cost over $250MM and turn out to be the largest private development in modern times.

Work began slowly in 1930. By 1931, much of the demolition had taken place and new construction was ready to begin. And so it was, on Christmas Eve, 1931, that this empty lot was actually a sign of hope. The men that had gathered weren’t there for a handout, they had come to pick up a paycheck. And to celebrate such rare good fortune, someone had rounded up a 30-foot tall balsam tree and set it up in the empty lot. To decorate it, the men fabricated some garlands out of paper and tin cans.

Miraculously, the moment was captured in a photograph.

It’s all there. The empty lot. The desperate times. The ragged men. The wooden box.

And standing beside them – a symbol of hope, and a harbinger of the great prosperity that would one day come – the first Christmas Tree in Rockefeller Center.