The Washington herald., 1922-07-21
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NEW YORK, July 20.--Thoughts
while strolling around New York:
Delaney street.-the East Sides
Fifth avenue. The wall Of fretting
tenement children. Stores open all
night. New citizens speaking every
tongue. A little cemetery in the
midst of theteemins push cart hub
bub.
Stuffy little Suffolk street. Ruled
by its picturesque Duke. Doorways
lined with women who sit and stare
through the long night. Yap
wagons crowd through acres OF
packed human city while the popu-
lace jeers. Carts piled high with .
bright luscious cherries.
A square blocked of for q movie
slum scene. Colorful cafes relieve
the dingy drabness. The East Side
lives to eat. And here's Clinton
street where the redcheeked foreign
girls buy their fiapper clothes. The
tradesmen shout "Niftick garments,
leddy!' And pull in customers.
Painters daubing canvas on the
hre escapes tapping with the days
wash. NANCY street ours dash
about unmuzzled. Italians drive
their goats to side doors to be
MIXED. A blind woman's parrot
selects fortune telling cards for
pennies.
Now for a street car northward
through the Bowery. All the pas
sengers laden with bundles and
baskets. tipsy Indian woman.
Wonder where she got her laugh
ing water. Timid-eyed Chinese chill
dren playing in Chatham Square
And blear-eyed derelicts loungine
against the pillars.
The last stand of the old brown
stone fronts near Union Square.
Each has its basement Speciality
shop" A famous sculptor. Byronic
face and build of Percheyon horse
A historic part of New York this
The background for pages of fic.
tional fiapdoodle.
And the home going rush has set
in up Fifth avenue. There goes
Otto Kahn. just as life grows
grayish the corn on the ear season
opens. But think of paying sixty
cents an ear to our cafe philan-
thropists. Still they've got to live.
Or think they have.
The clubmen who are forced to
idle away the summer evenings in
town are pathetic figures in the late
afternoon life Of Fifth avenue. They
occupy the deep cushioned leather
chairs at the street windows and
alternately watch the passing tides
of traffic and browse behind the
late evening editions. Most Of them
have huge mansions that have been
boarded up until autumn. During
the day their pressing affairs keep
them interested. but at night they
suffer the tortures of loneliness.
Club stewards say that members
are prone TO petty quareling ana
for that reason keep to themselves.
Most of them retire by 10 o'clock
and by 1880 all the big, shadowy
rooms along the avenue are COM
pletely deserted.
Speaking of clubmen. there are
no dashiAg figures in the club world
of New York any mora. Barry Wall
with his fifteen suits a day and
Ward McAllister just as debonaire
were the last of the flowery bon
vivants who made spectacular sar-
torial displays their hobbies. The
clubman of today dresses in the
conventional tone Of the banking
world. The fair for zippy clothes
now belongs to Broadway. The ex-
elusive tailors discourage color
schemes. Anything that is not blue.
gray or black they characterize as
Broadwayesque."
Bowery shop has a proprietor
with a sense of the ridiculous. On
still in his window is a placard
reading: THE W. j. Bryan Radio
| Outfit"