The Birmingham age-herald., 1912-03-14
From the Saturday Evening Post.

"HERE is just one New York dance hall that differs in any essential
 x respects from all the other New York dance halls. It was opened up few months ago by a crafty campaigner who knew exactly how to stage man. age the production soaas to produce the most thrills.
 He has sense of melodramatc propor- tion that would make Lincoln J. Carter look like a beginner. His place is down a side street, a block or two west of where the yellow streak called Broadway burns long, lurid hole in the night
 The front is a hooded, blinded house, all dark and deserted looking. You can not get in that way-no, indeed,-that seemingly empty house, with it's board ed up windows, is there to fool the po- lice. Sh-h-h-careful now. You go to a small side entrance opening into dimy 1 lighted alleyway and you rap in guard ed manner upon a door that is locked and barred. It's all too Edgar Allan Poeish for words-not to say Anna kath- arine Greenish!
 As above stated, you knock. A bolt slides back grating harshly in the cus- tomary manner, and husky voice wants to know what you want. You crave to enter and so announce. Sorry. gents, ' says the unseen guardian, but you cant git in without yous are members and has your admission cards. This here is a strictly private club3'
 | If you grow discouraged at this and l turn to go away he calls you back, and l ie you keep on going it practically spells the whole evening for him; but as a gen. eral proposition you do not go away You slip dollar bill into his palm and beg I him to use his personal influence with the manager to procure admission for self and friend to the mysterious precincts of this most delectable and exclusive of resorts. He promises to do his best, bars the door again and departs, leaving you outside.
 There follows now a stage wait, dra- matieally spaced and well devised
 Then the boss comes-a coarse person in dress suit, with an under jaw like l a street car fender and a voice full of 1 iron rust; and the boss, after looking you over carefully. decides to let you in--you look like nice "quiet gents wot won't zip the joint off to the bulls'-and he opens the door just far enough to admit your grateful forms, he meanwhile stand 1 ing vgilant and ready in case the entire detective staff of the centarl office should take advantage of this golden opportunl- ty and come sweeping round the nearest corner with drawn revolvers.
 Once inside, you follow him, tiptoeng back through maze of dim and narrow
 railways to dance hall at the extreme rear. Except that it is feebly lighted in- stead of blazing with electrics, as the
 others are, this dance hall is just like the rest-just as smelly. just as dirty and just as sad. There isn't the slightest l prospect, moreover, of it's being raided.
 Every policeman in the precinct knows whefe it is and what 1t is. It is a part of the stagecraft, however, for some one to be constantly warning you that this is altogether a most desperate and secret enterprise, and that it behooves you to be careful, quiet and confidential. You are urged, no matter what happens, to aeep your voice down-the walters are able 10 hear the slightest whisper, anyhow-and you mustn't start anything and, or course you will never dvulge the true nature of the orgies you have this night "it- messed. A
 l Then they add an artistic, really an al most exquisite touch. The waiter taps vou on the shoulder and, bending over vou. whispers in voice not any louder than his own berath that the man sitting at the second table to the left-"no. don't look yit boss, he might ketch on'-tha' that man wonder is one of the most ''des- brit" characters in New York, the tough est r,v on the whole West Side and the head of the "turrible' Helfs Kitchen gang.
 ..The cops is after him now for bumpin' off a guy.' confides the waiter. Sec how he sets with his back to the wal l and his face to the door. ready to die lfightin'.'
 Whereupon the self made manklller
 who is on duty afternoons and evenings except on his Sundays out, tries to lool
 little more ferocious anR only succeeds in looking a little slinkier; but tn