The Washington herald., 1918-01-31
6yp.o.HehHyI6E .

Is no" tSldDlSlltu III uBlO"Al iOA'A
in Gotham. II so happened that the
clicking OF the numerous typewriters
Of the literary guests played hob with
the nerves of other patrons and so
the management placed the writers on
one floor OF the hotel.
Here they may pound their machines.
build plots. smoke innumerabIe cigar
cites and knock editors without any
hindranee. Among those who are oc-
cupants of Authors Row" are Arthur
Somers Roche. writer of mystery nov
els: Edna Ferber. short-story queen;
Burt l. Standish. manufacturer OF
real thrillers: George Randolph Ches-
ter. who created Wallingford; Ray
Rohn. artist and detective story writer.
and there are also a sprinkling of
artists.
Most writers do their work at night.
Some say it is laziness and others
say the inspiration comes after
hush has fallen over the city. There
is one writer who lives ten blocks
from Times Square and who was Of
fered a new hat every time he got to
a certain cafe in Times Square by
O'Clock in the afternoon. He has never
been able to win a topper.
Temperament Is a strange thing in
deed. Or else why is II that one OF
our most celebrated novelists cannot
write without smoking a corn cob
pipe? He tried to write one novel
and smoke only a. fine meerschaum.
He got through with it. but the pub
fishers sent 1t back and he rcvamped
it to the tune of the old corn cob
and it proved one Of the best six
sellers.
There is another writer OF special
articles who cannot write except
while wearing an old brown army shirt
that he wore during the Spanish
| American war He has tied to give
it up. but it is useless. The shirt is
thread bare and patched but it still
brings the writing urge when donned.
But the strangest freak of tompera-
ment is exhibited by one Of the best
known magazine illustrators who
| never works without having a pocket
full Of red peppermint drops.
Lord Byron cleverly hintcd in his
little poem-"no sleep till morn when
youth and pleasure meet TO chase the
glowing hours with flying feet" but
as Rube Goldberg would say, ITS
all wrong, Byron. it's all wrong"
There are 129 cabarCts providing
dancing in New York just now. but
there are very few dancing and most
OF the cabarets are empty at mid
night. Midnight dancing is passed.
A well-known Broadway rounder made
tour of the cabarets recently and
found that the only places well filled
were those exhibiting refined high
brow dances of the interpretive sort.
The dances of Mordkin and Pavlowa.
combining the spirit and grace of the
Greeks, are the real thing. How New
York used to laugh at these kind of
dances a few years ago!
One OF the characters OF Broadway
is Joe LEBLANC. a stocky young fellow
who sells cut-rate theater tickets. He
is a graduate of the University of
Hard Knocks. Broadway cuffed him
around for years in his effort to make
a living.
He finally began the cut-rate the
ater ticket business in little hole
in the wall on sixth avenue. His
! shop was in the rear of drug store
and next he added quarters in the
basement
The other day he bought the drug
store. He said he needed the drug
store as an exit for his ticket place.
Nobody seems to know how LEBLANC
gets his tickets, but he does and he
hob-nobs with the theatrical great in
the bargain. He is fond of gay clothes
and his sartorial adornments some
times make even broadway gasp.
| An old negro nanny from New
Orleans visited the Hippodrome the
other day. When she came out Mark
Luescher, the manager. asked her
what she thought of the place. Say,
white man." she replied, tell me whah
did dey git so much out doors TO
build this heah place around.