The Washington herald., 1920-08-28
New York City
By o. o. Mcintyre.
NIxht Llfe chi, stiII WissIe..

Nl& III Lie Aoii Shui HAB&
New York, Aug. e7.-Night life
on this gay island is not dead. As
Haywood Brcan, the. bright chron-
icler of the Tribune, remarks, night
life is plainly cut in two. though 1t
still wiggles. Massive back doors
are unclaimed for those who know
the town. And the single drink Is
unpurchasabIe but 1t may be pur-
chased by the quart.
Joel's in Forty first street. used
to be meeting place for the mid
night sons who breakfast at sun
down. JoePs is still running, but
with nothing stronger than 2.75 it
fails to present the usual fare.
The big room still holds the pic
lures of Mrs. George Cabot Lodge
and Mrs. Stanley Mortimer and a
score of others who probably were
never there in their lives.
The side wall to the right still
boasts "Joel's steaks are the talk
of New York" Perhaps 1t isn't true
any more. Since that sign went up
there has been a war and a move
ment for a league of nations and
Babe Ruth has made forty-three
home runs. One can imagine the
crowds in the promenade at the
Metropolitan discussing Joefs
steaks during the entr' acts
The old familiar postcards which
used to be on every table are gone.
"Joers" so the caption ran, sis the
home OF artists, actors and news
paper men--the most lovable folk
in the world" Joel loved them, but
not enough to blind him to their
weaknesses. The left wall bore the
sign: ITO avoid mistakes patrons
will kindly pay for refreshments
after each service" This still en-
dures, as does Joel's message to ac-
tors on the road who are invited to
Send your money to me and 1 will
keep it for you"
Even in the old days people did
not come to Joels only to drink
There was Harry Lang. which is
not his name, who would sit up un-
til 4 or every morning and order
sarsaparilla every time. He had
reason to be timorous about alco-
hol. About o'clock one morning
he said, as doggedly as ever, Bring
me another bottle of sarsaparilla."
1t would have been his twenty fifth,
but the waiter told him the last bot
tie was gone. I've done my best"
said Lang. dolefully. Bring me a
highball." And after that evening
nobody-not even his employer
saw him again for a week.
Those days are gone. But good
fellows still gather in apartment
houses. and in clubs and with
kind faced boot-legger on call they
manage to struggle through the
long night with plenty of false
happiness.
One on the @Reyeauer."
Broadway is filled with gossip
about the huge fortunes which have
been acquired in the liquor traffic.
Whether the rumors have any
foundation in fact or not / do not
know but Broadway believes that
there are some revenue officers who
are profiting prodigiously. There
is the story of a well known man
about town who was sent to an IL
licit dealer to get brandy.
How much do you want?' asked
the dealer.
Two cases" replied the man.
Il can't fill that just yet" ex-
planned the dealer. You see. I'm a
revenue officer, and I know a place
where there are twelve cases
" Ath set ofutIS lOT lnt "nOte IOI
I'll go and confiscate it."
A Tale OF the Street.
At five o'clock they come out to
Broadway with their tired. shad-
owed eyes. rouged cheeks and car
mined lips. / have watched them
and they seem almost to shudder
as they turn into the crowded
street. Then they begin the eter-
nal scanning of coarse faces for a
half-smile or some light of recogni-
tiOn that may lead to an acquaintance
and dinner. They are so patheti-
Cally young and frall-and yet their
expressions are hard. And most of
them have the hacking cough of
the inveterate cigarette smoker,
others the nervous twitching of the
drug addict. Only a few years. so
statistics show, since most of them
came from the cool-shaded and
quiet village streets.