by Erin Blakeley, Anne Machalinski and Aili McConnon
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Steve Duncan, a 27-year-old self-proclaimed "guerilla historian in Gotham," has long been fascinated by what lies under New York. But unlike more casual history buffs, Duncan isn't content merely reading about the abandoned Amtrak tunnels that once housed underground communities of homeless people or the steam tunnels under Columbia University through which materials for the Manhattan project were ferried. Instead, he prefers to put on his rubber boots and goggles and visit these places himself, sometimes again and again.

"It's easy to fall in love with spaces," he said. "Just like people fall in love with a city or a museum."

For years, Duncan and others slipped into manhole covers and roamed the tunnels of New York with relative ease. But the Sept. 11 attacks limited access, and as a result, many explorers left the game. Those who persist, like Duncan, face a greater likelihood of being fined, arrested or imprisoned.

Ironically, urban exploring has exploded in popularity just as access has become more difficult. An entire community of enthusiasts has sprung up on the Internet, eager to exchange information and speculate about ways to get underground. Meanwhile, 2005 saw both the publication of Julia Solis' Underground: Anatomy of a City and Access All Areas: A User's Guide to Exploring by the late Ninjalicious, and the airing of the Discovery Channel's "Underground Explorers." Urban exploring is no longer just for punk kids and lawbreakers, but is fast becoming a new form of tourism.

Duncan began exploring in 1996 and connected with other enthusiasts through a character named Ninjalicious, who had created an Internet discussion board, a mailing list and a publication, Infiltration, "the zine about going places you're not supposed to go." Duncan hooked up with L.B. Deyo and Lefty Leibowitz, a pair who created Jinx Magazine in 1997 to share techniques about urban exploring. By 2000, Duncan, Deyo and Leibowitz were exploring regularly.

The Sept. 11 attacks slowed down urban explorers. Deyo and Leibowitz got out of the game. "The main thing we were concerned with at the time was the potential of distracting or using up municipal resources," Leibowitz said.

Duncan continued to explore and was arrested for the first time at the end of 2001 as he took photos from atop the 300-foot-high St. John the Divine with a telephoto lens. More than 100 police officers, including a SWAT team, apprehended him. Another time he was detained while peering down manholes, looking for an underground river near an apartment complex in Newark, N.J. In one hour, 34 people called the cops to report him. In both situations he was mistaken for a terrorist.

Today, urban exploring has gained new momentum as its pioneers have brought it to the wider public's attention through books, television programs and lectures. In 2003, L.B. Deyo and Lefty Leibowitz published Invisible Frontier: Exploring the Tunnels, Rooftops and Ruins of Hidden New York. Several books and TV programs on the subject followed, and Internet clearinghouses, like The Urban Exploration Ring, direct enthusiasts to hundreds of other communities. Urban exploring is becoming what Duncan calls "extreme tourism" as more people set out to visit these underground, restricted spaces.

To people who have explored for years, the hobby's newfound popularity has both positive and negative aspects. As Duncan points out, extreme tourists aren't really exploring – they aren't seeking out new places or even spending a great amount of time in the places they visit. At the same time, the increased interest level has presented explorers like Duncan, who sells photographs of his explorations, with an opportunity to turn their hobby into a cash-making enterprise.

A stint at the venerable New York Explorer's Club this week presented further evidence that urban exploring has become respectable. Duncan addressed more than 150 people at the oversold event, many left standing in the aisles of the wood-paneled club on the Upper East Side. The crowd was a mix of white haired, well-dressed retirees and students in fleece jackets wearing backpacks. Post-lecture, Duncan urged the group to "pursue these places." Only two audience members had been underground.

These days, Duncan explores every two to three weeks. He hopes to collect his photography into a book and craft a career telling the stories lurking beneath people's feet. He imagines a time when he will be respected as a legitimate historian. He would be able to introduce himself to municipal employees to gain access to these underground spaces legally.

"I could be like—hi I’m Steve Duncan and I’d like to do a photo essay on this project. And they’d say, ‘yeah, the urban historian. Ok, sure.’"

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