The Washington herald. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1906-1939, 1921-12-30
MIlTYRE WHEFS
COTHAM'S HEADY,
EXOTIC PERFUME
But Comes to Earth as
Odor Of Steak and
Onions Triumphs.
BY o. o. MCINTYRE

NEW YORK, Dec z9.-Thoughts
while strolling around New York;
Manhattan's dying sun. Side streets
bathed in a red glow. silhouetted
background of domes and towers
Minarets to impale the moon. Slim
skyscrapers dotted with pin point
lights. Monuments to dreams Of
doors. smell onions and steak.
A caul of sunshine dazzles on q
cellar wood-kindling shop. A dia-
mond in shambles. All day long
captiyes tugging toward home, A
happy negro plays his harmonica.
Freshly barbered men with elabo-
rately manicured nails stalking.
Keen eyes a-glitter in sensuous
faces.
Noses daubed with whitewash. Ed
win Balmer, the novelist. A drows-
ing stiffness in the cafes. In an
hour the whirr OF newly fedged
wings chasing myths The Roaring
Forties throbs with commotion. The
gamblers come out for o'clock
breakfast. Girlish faces weary with
the weight of centuries of knowi-
edge
The strange exotic perfume Of
stage people. 1t marks them more
than grease paint. A girl with q
monocle. A monkey in a bird store
window. The roar of subways SAIL
ing through blackness with pows of
stole faces. Christmas tinsels. Job
less actors purging languor in horse
play.
Women in silver and gold head
bands. William Gillette swinging
along in a great fur coat. Western
cinema thrillers. New Workers actu-
ally believe people wear six shoot
ers. chaps and bandanas in Peoria.
Ill. Wonder what we will all be
doing next Christmas. Thinking of
the bills, I suppose. Life is like
that. One thing after another. Still,
IL Is a pretty fair world-as worlds
go.
In full evening dress he appeared
in Times Square from a side street
shortly after midnight. He stepped
or rather lurched his way to the
middle of the square and in one
hand he carried a lighted red liant
ern- A policeman watched him
wandering about for while and
then went over to him..
What's the idea of the red LIANT
ern;" inquired the cop with a hu-
morous tw' nkle in Celtic eyes.
you know. oshifer," he hic-
coughed, "a funny thing. Some fool
drunk left this red lantern in front
of a great big hole up the street
Dave Stamper is one OF the mel
ody boys of Tin Pan Alley. From a
piano player in a Coney Island beer
hall he has become a composer of a
hundred or more hits. He IS still in
his early thirties and like Irving
Berlin he made a fortune. He is an
inveterate smoker of rat-tailed sto-
giles Of doubtful quality and he al
ways wears shoes that have a
squeak. No one knows why and
Dave merely smiles at the, eccen-
tricity At a theatrical rehearsal
the other day the stage was dark
ened. A saueaking sound was
heard Put on the gas masks,
boys" shouted an actor. here
comes Dave Stamper."
In front Of a quiet but luxurious
hotel on a street running off Fifth
averue / saw heaping pile of
trunks brought from An ocean liner.
They bore the same monogram and
were gay with foreign labels. Out
of curiosity l counted them and
found forty-two. They belonged 10
two movie stars and the incident
would mean nothing had l not just
come from a gathering that was
seeking means to offer little aid
to a poet fallen on evil days-a poet
whose verse has lightened hearts
all over the world. Life indeed, has
unfathomable secrets.
In one OF the cafes in the Fifties
IS sign reading: Gentlemen and
ladies using TASKS are asked to use
discretion as revenue agents are
likely to be among guests"