The Washington herald., 1920-04-16
New York City
By o. o. Mcintyre

New York, April 15.-Thoughts
while stroliing around New York
These are times that try mems
thirsts. Spring and no Book beer
Only wood alcohol. Eerie! Ann PEN
nington. the dancer. A wisp OF
thistledown. I like Meredith Nichol-
sons description of Mary Gardens
shoulder. Compared It to one OF
Swinburne's long. galloping lines
surcharged with passion.
The smell OF bonnres. Homes
being boarded up for the summer
A fog over the Hudson. Rollicking
toot OF the ferries sounds like
faro Of q jazz band. A youth walt.
ing at the stage entrance with
flowers. The adolescent moth and
the professional fame. Still ] once
had q secret love for an actress.
And then 1 heard her curse her man
ager. And I was only a program
boy.
There's p. G. wodehouse. the Eng
lish writer. Crossed the ocean
seventeen times In ten years. That
Is something to refer to careless
like. The roof gardens will soon be
open. They used to be popular. But
now it is the cellar. The sidewalk
cafe, popular in Paris, fizzled on
Broadway. A crowd waiting for Car
pentier at the Athletic Club. He
boxed with q Biddle-one Of the
Philadelphia Biddles, II you know
what ] mean.
Maxim's. How quiet II looks. And
across the street a pastry shop Is
packed. An amusing sign: over
coats Ready to Wear Out" A lawn
filled with statuary. And ground
SIS, 900 a foot. Everybody Is talk
ing about police graft. Why don't
they do something?
Little street bands. Fret since
the war. They're charging So for
half -soling shoes. o! The robbers.
And yet IL I could get triple the
price for these vaporings OF child
ish mind I'd do II. n lot of new
shows In town but not q hit.
All the young girls you see dress
like vamps. Unruly eyebrows.
Quivering lips and shoulder shrugs.
They ought to be home washing
dishes. Or dressing dolls. I'll not
look at them. I'll go home. Prenez
garde!
This is not an extract from the
chase of the police for Nicky Arm
stein. the Broadway vanisher. II is
"blurb" have just received
about Harold Bell Wright from his
publisher. What life, what life!
But read on:
For ten years buffeted and beat
en-, battling with adversely, some
times losing but never lost, snatch
ing learning here and there, hating
slam. loving passionately. misun-
derstood. misapprehended. too stub
bornly proud to ask apologies or
make useless explanations, wrest-
ing existence from toll he last had.
befriending many and also be-
friended much, but always face to
face with the grim tragedy which
has held part of the stage since
Eden"
Mr.. Bell must be bachelor. Else
how could he be too proud to make
useless explanations.
A froCk coated man wearing a
high silk hat stood holding a little
black dog on a leash on a Fifth
avenue corner the other afternoon.
lie looked frightfully bored. \
young girl same along, stopped
over and said: You precious pup
py! You dear little thing"
Then out Of the skies, it seemed.
voice said: He isn't puppy. He
is twelve years old and he isn't pre-
cious; he isn't any good at all. He
is just a flea bitten runt. I had
him shaved last August when 1t
was hot and 1t ruined him"
But I think he's a dear" per-
sisted the girl. He is SO tiny and
cute
You wouldn't think so if you
had TO trot him around every ev-
eninG. He was a Pom. But his
hair never grew in after he was
shaved and he is just ruined, that's
ALL"
Just then a matronly woman
stepped out OF a Limousine and
rushing over to the dog. began: 20.
you preshy- eshy- ashus babums. Did
We miss urn's muffer.''
That's my Wife" said the man
to the girl. ''Good-bye," and he
walked away