Signed, sealed, beleaguered

As you approach the impressive New York State Supreme Court building in Manhattan, you can't help thinking that weighty matters are being adjudicated within. The 100-foot-wide flight of about 40 steps leads up to a colonnade of 10 granite-fluted Corinthian columns. Above the columns are the engraved words of George Washington: "The true administration of justice is the firmest pillar of good government." Sitting atop the engraving is a triangular pediment, 140-feet long, with 14 classical figures in high relief. Along the huge roofline are three statues representing Law, Truth and Equity. Inside, the gold-leaf frescoes on the dome of the rotunda float above the hexagonal spokes radiating from the center.

That's where the impressiveness ends.

Down in the basement, in room 141B, is the New York County Clerk's office. You can feel depression setting in the moment you set foot in there. The spacious hall is airless, with pouty overhead lighting and the faint scent of decay. Joy does not pass through these rooms much, and I certainly did not partake of it. But like a mouse who needs to go through the trap to get the cheese, I had to come here to continue on my road to Irish citizenship.

I finally received my grandparents' marriage certificate from the city yesterday, along with my grandfather's death certificate. Now all I need is his birth certificate and I'll have a complete set of documents for him. Last week I finally got my own birth certificate from the guy whose birth certificate I received by mistake. The next round of documents will be my father's.

It's bad enough having to pay $35 and wait a month to get a copy of a 72-year-old marriage certificate. To be able to use the certificate for "foreign purposes," you have take the certificate, signed and sealed by the City Clerk, to the State Supreme Court building, room 141B, and get the County Clerk to authenticate the signature of the City Clerk. That cost $3. Luckily I did not have to wait in line or deal with a surly functionary. But that was pure luck.

After that I had to walk about 10 blocks to the New York State Department of State building on William Street. I got there about 10 minutes before closing. A strange man waved me on to the elevator. "They close at 3:30," he said, with the impatience of the White Rabbit. "Better have your ID and money out!" I nodded and looked away, rolling my eyes.

At the Certification Unit on the 19th floor, I brought the notarized certificate, signed by a cast of thousands, to the clerk at the Secretary of State to authenticate the County Clerk's authentication of the City Clerk's signature. This is known as an apostille, and it's required under the 1961 Hague convention. I had to fill out a cover sheet listing the country for which I intended to use the document and pay a $10 fee. The strange man was right. I made it to the window at 3:28. At 3:30 the window closed.

That one document ended up costing me $48. I'll have to go through this all over again when my mother accompanies me to get her marriage certificate. Can't wait.