The Washington herald., 1920-03-05
New York City
B., o. o. Mcintyre


New York. Mar. Thoughts
while stroiling around Manhattan:
There's something somber about an
ocean pier at sunset The gulis
skim low. Dock workers herd In
groups like tired cattle. Everybody
puffs pipe. An old skipper looking
out to sea. A barreI-organ grind
ing out wanton tunes that no one
wants to hear. Smell of fried fish.
Brine. Tired cry of huckster.
Bivington street at dusk. Cor
ners fiocked with queer looking for
eign men wearing spectacles. Look
like Berlitz teachers. Children. dir
ty-faced. dancing in the street. Dull
lozenges of light spring up in the
shops. An old wine cellar given
over to waffies and honey. A sordid
cave of a great city.
King Joy Lo! Great name for
chop suey proprietor. There goes
another chink. Looks like he might
have dagger UP his loose sieve. A
Bowery tough. True to type. Peg
top trousers. waspish waist. Pink
shirt. Shaved neck. And the final
touch: narrow last shoes with pur-
pie uppers.
Little tailor sewing in his win
dow. Maybe he's having his big
dreams In his stuffy hole thinking
of the lyric beauty Of the smooth
greensward. Wonder where my
golf clubs are? Last time l played
never saw so many graybeards
since 1 quit reading Santa Claus
books. A few more years and I'll
be old. But I'll always have young
ideas!
Astor Place. The roar of the ele-
waited. Hectic Gathering. Saturnine
lights. Queer old drug store. Mus
ty with age. Windows filled with
steel engravings. One of Pastor
Russell. Another of "a Stag at Bay"
Still have the red, green and yellow
bottles. Persian specialization
Men Only" And a medical museum
as q side line. Go through the mu-
see and you have every ailment de-
picted by the wax horrors. l know
because i tried il once in st. Louis.
Rubberneck wagons always filed.
A good way to see the city even "
the blase do point you out as yaps.
Dining rooms at the Brevoort and
Lafayette not so gay as they were.
Only a few domino players. And a
few playing cubito. There's Mark
Twain's home on the avenue. I like
his idea of writing in bed. Think
I'll do IT all day tomorrow. My
wife will be away.
Wise cynics are New Workers.
Nothing can be put over on them.
A good many years ago. a Western
newspaperman, crammed with
ideas, took the city desk of a big
morning paper. He got one of the
star reporters to take so silver dol
lars, place them on a big tray, and
then had him try to sell them for
80 cents each to the home-going
crowds on Brooklyn Bridge. He
used all of his persuasiveness, but
couldn't make a sale. The people
onlygmiled knowingly. as much as
to say, You can't fool me. I'm a
New Yorker" The same city editor
sent two reporters, dressed in work
men . ClOlNcs, u tHe ruin avenue
side of the Waldorf. They carried
picks and began digging a hole in
the street without a permit. The po-
lice directed traffic about them.
They dug all morning. Ate their
lunch at the curb and worked until
o'clock, and not a soul questioned
them.
A New York author recently had
his first book published. He is
somewhat of a practical joker. He
wrote 500 letters to a selected list
of names. in which he stated that
his book had just been published.
II want to apologize" he wrote,
for mentioning your name-al-
though II is mentioned flatteringly
consulting you, but the
matter escaped my attention until
after the plates had been made. 1
know, however, that you will not
be offended" The 500 letters made
500 sales. The book does not men
ton any one Of those to whom he
wrote.
The Wall Street women's Club has
been organized to teach off1ce man
ners. Girls that giggle, girls that
use Office telephones for beau talks
and girls that chew gum will 30 in
4 ho nrfr,norv