The Washington herald., 1920-04-06
New York City
By o. o. Mcintyre

New York. April 5. - Spring has
come to the East Side slums. The
balloon beddings are being placed
on the IRE escapes. for soon the city
will be sweitering In the season Of
torrid nights. Perhaps no man has
painted better pictures Of the slum
summer nights than Louis Joseph
Vance, the novelist. He finds them
entrancing.
He knows every inch of the teem-
ing polygiot life Of the East Side
all it's turns and windings, its door
ways and byways. it's smells and
sounds, its babel of tongues and
high lights and shadows. All ready
the naphtha flames are fiaring luridly
above the solid line of pushcarts at
the curb.
Children are creeping out from the
kindling fires to play on the asphalt.
The kiddies 60 barefoot In Hester
street the latter days Of March, and
by April their feet are toughened.
Only one thing will be missed this
year, and that Is the golden glow
of the saloons that for so many
years beamed their false fellowship.
No part of the world is more in
teresting than a crowded East Side
street on a hot evening. Nobody
remains inside. The paves and
streets are packed with types OF
every description = faces that are
kind, brutal. cunning, wicked and
naive. There are faces stamped
with every passion of the flesh. d,
The street corner Is the groupine
place. The leering gangster. the
scowling thug and the hopeless
driftwood eddied there TO sink or
swim, mingle in a strange democ-
racy. Fat women sit contentedly In
doorways holding their infants, and
watching with tired eyes the con-
slant procession.
The air is heavy with odors of
garlic, fish, cabbage and sweat.
Above the bawling Of the street
vendors comes a loud report. 1t may
be a vagrant automobile tire or an
other turn of a vendetta. In the
pool parlors the sporty young men
gamble away their sustenance.
Life in the slums Is q thing held
lightly-a thing of the day. 1t Is
long after midnight before the
streets become sullen and quiet. the
stiffness, broken now and then by
the crash OF a tinny piano or the
drunken giggle of q fiddle. At dawn
II awakens-sodden and reproachful
of another day. Only night brings
lightness and gaiety.
On the brick wall of a building
now being excavated on Broadway
there is a forceful bit OF bill-post-
ing humor. For indeed the bill
poster must have his jest. On this
particular wall are three signs ad-
vertising current attractions and the
bi1l-poster has placed them from
top to bottom as follows:
Wedding Bells"
"Theda Bara."
Scandal"
Many people dream of the day
when they might live in a gorgeous
New York hotel, have meals served
in their rooms or in the great din
ing rooms, selected from the most
expensive menus in the world. But
luxury sometimes becomes tire
some. 1t is related that the late
George Bo1dt, who owned the Wal
dorf and had the famous Oscar as
chef, used to drop in now and then
at a little old-fashioned dining room
conducted by three elderly ladies.
He yearped for bite of home cook
ing. And recently in Washington a
New York newspaperman relates
seeing Copeland Townsend, John
Nick. Bowman and Walton Marshall
three great New York hotel pro-
prietors. in a dairy lunch enjoying
the plain fare immensely.
4 New York citizen rushed up to
a policeman the other night and
said some ruffian had tried to kill
him. where's your proof" asked
the cop. In my backr and the man
turned and there is was, a big
knife. sticking right where he said
it was.