The Washington herald., 1920-08-21
New York City
Evening on the Bowery.
By o. o. Mcintyre.


New York, Aug. 2o.-In the late
afternoon the shop-keepers along
the Bowery and their wives put
chairs out front near the door or
at the curb for a brief respite. Away
uptown tea carts are being wheeled
into drawing-rooms. But the Bow
cry folk do not spoil their appe-
| tite for dinner with indigestible
cakes and hot brews.
1t is the Bowery's hour of re-
| taxation. Most of the shop-keepers
| live over their shops, and they do
| not close until midnight. All the
wives seem to be fat on the Bowery
and the children scrawny. 1t is
the widest thoroughfare in town
but it is marred by the unsightly
elevated spun in the clouds on either
side. The sun rarely shines there.
Yet it is a colorful street. Sailors
with their girls on the way to the
! cheap dance-ha1ls. Human wrecks
who stand about seemingly won
dering just where to go. Ten-Cent
| lodging houses whose dark offices
are filled with tired faces. Shout
ling vendors. Old women with packs
who constantly mutter to them
selves. Aristocratic-looking men in
shiny clothes who are a part of the
Bowery bathos.
Those who fail in New York and
stay here invariably land on the
Bowery. There are no social bar
riers. Conversation is easy, but
everyone is suspicious. The con-
! firmed Boweryite is never inquisi-
tive. 1t is taken for granted that
| there is a skeleton lurking in the
background of every life. All are
/ Injured to tragedy.
| II a wayfarer falls from drink he
remains there until the ambulance
arrives. The Bowery is too con-
cerned with its own troubles to go
afeld for more. The afternoon gos-
sip concerns new converts at the
rescue missions, the birth or death
| in the neighborhood, the latest
movie thriller and the like.
There is a brooding atmosphere
| hanging over the street. The
! stranger feels it. Unless he has be-
come a part Of the Bowery hum
drum life he is not cordially re-
ceived. The Bowery despises pity.
! Deep rooted in its domestic and civic
]
|ugly squalor cannot kill.
A NOnchaIant Cat.
| About the most nOnChalant cat on
! this blase island was sleeping in
! the middle of the sidewalk near
| Forty second street and Broadway
the other morning Thousands passed
! by but all managed to step around
it and, of course. the typical curious
| crowd collected. After the nap was
finished, the cat yawned, stretched,
! smoothed out it's whiskers and was
last seen trotting through the heavy
traffic in the street.
KnzoO suppIants Jazz.
The kazoo band is supplanting
! the jazz orChestras in the dance
| places 4 prominent cafe announces
| the "syncopated Luiputian kazOo
| band" 1t is a tiny metal instru-
ment that anyone may play, and in
many of the dance places guests are
! furnished with kazoos to add to the
noise. The kazoo is also a great
! little instrument for putting pep
! into private parties.
Furnished Rooms Passing.
| The demand for new apartments
! is putting an end to the red brick
! turnlShed-rOOm districts on the west
Side. They are the districts from
which the newcomers generally grid
| their lOins for the fight to live in
the big city. The dodgers come and
go like ships that pass in the night.
| The slavery girl of all work-the
most picturesque drudge in all the
words ever present. She answers
| the dOorbeu, makes the beds, waits
| on the table, answers the phone and
! generally has time for a little gos-
| sip about the new roOmer. The
! rooming house crowds are restless
/ and changing. In few years If
! they succeed they move upon the
drive or in a smart hotel. But there
are always those among the vagrant
guests who remain. They are white
| collar men. And they smoke pipes
and sit out on the steps at night in
| their shirt sleeves.