The Cordova daily times., 1923-01-12
TODAY-EdWard Pill writes of New
 York's "curb merchants"

rOrk s 'Curb merCnantS.
 NEW YORK, Jan. 12.-A merry lit tie game of hide-and-seek cavorts daily about the corners of Wall Streets staid and solemn money tenn pies, as strange a background for childlike pastime as one is wont to find.
 The actors in this queer comedy are adults The conflicting forces necessary fundamentals for an enter. taining drama-are the curbstone merchant and the much-abused police, man.
 speed is the ulterior motive-speed of transaction on the part of the cus- toner and speed of foot on the part of the merchant
 The street-fakir, so far as the terri tory that extends westward beyond the Hudson River is concerned is al. most thing of the past. But not so in New York Here he is still with us, accompanied with intending supplies of painless toothacha gum, niending cement and pat nted knife-fountain n-toothbrush-all in one. Gotham ties in droves, they who have every thing to make for blase and tiring existence. still fall for his suave and oily wods.
 The fakirs' happy hunting ground is Father Knickerbocker's financial dis trict lower Manhattan. They would rat er speak to a crowd of Wall Street habitues than to the greenest of pro- vincias Al. Baker, who has sold everything from pairing knives to ex- tract of malt along Nassau street for the last ten years and has been chased by more cops than Sing Sings old est pickpocket, said: "The guys down here fall for it the easiest"
 Asked why Al. replied: q dunno; they just do, that's all"
 Enter the policeman. The New Yok curb merchant never bothers about procuring license to give him legal right to reap profit from the sale of Dr. Bunkem's Famous Rattlesnake Salve. It's easiest to get away with it, they say, when a fellow is fast on his feet
 They carry their wares in old suit cases and find their locations, usually, in front of stately looking skyscrap- CTS and begin their bally-hooing It isn't long before the crowds gather. Human beings are the same on Broad street as they are in Clear Water, Massachusetts.
 Gents. I've got here the greatest little thing on the market. The fam- ous Empire Patented Key Ring. Holds twenty different keys and guarantees not to bulge, rip, tear or stretch the pocket"
 The words flow on, but the eyes are swifter than the tongue. They scan the horizon-east, west north and south. A blue, brass-buttoned fig ure looms up from around a corner A snatch of the suitcase and the curb merchant is dashing off and losing himself in the crowds. He finds an- other spot several blocks away devoid of blue and begins all over again.
 "It doesn't mean anything" said Lou Mosher, another one of the "as- sociation." "The cops aren't bad sports. They only work under orders."
 He was vending knitted ties, sixty nine cents a throw" A prospective customer stood next to him examining pseudo-silk cravat to make sure he wasn't going to be beaten in the transaction. Lou looked toward Broad way and caught the gleam of brass buttons. He seized the tie from the startled customers hands and made a nasty retreat, coattails and suitcase flying in the wind. The would-be GUS toner moved on with a chuckle. Such is the life of a business man.