The Waterbury Democrat., 1933-09-26
-In-- Nezg York
By PAUL HARRISON

H
 New york = Although Eugene | O'Neiil was born at the corner of Broadway and Forty-third street, where the Hotel Cadillac now stands, the Gay Way sees nothing of the famous playwright. And O'Neill doesn't care to see Broadway. Six years ago, at the behest of coaxing companions, he made the rounds of few night clubs, and declared then that it would last him for the rest of his
 In his haif-uppity, haif-timid at- titude he reminds you of Gene Tunney more than anyone else. For instance, most of the people who call Mister Tunney "Gene" are Greenwicht Villagers who knew him in the old days. And of the few who hall O'Neill as "Geno'" many are sailors with whom ne shipped on various voyages years ago. One other is Philip Moeller. who has known O'Neili since he was a theatrical figure, and who now is directing the Theater Guilds production of the next O'Neili play, "Ah Wilderness" The author is very con. eSesSes@ s~%.-f attending them as promptly as the actors themselves. He sits back in the darkcncd the. atcr and looks on, never in. terrupting 0 scene. He gives his suggestions to Moeller later. ..
 O'Neiil isn't particular about minor changes, but as like as not he'll alter Q whole scene or kick Q couple of people out of the cast. For weeks, the only member of the cast who seemed sure of his job was George M. Cohan,. who is being starred. Yet between the celebrated Cohan and the great | O'Neili there is complete formal ity. They're the only ones who remain in the theater at lunch time, yet they don't get together. and gossip. O'Neill has q sand wich, some fruit and Q bottle of milk which have been brought from his hotel. He always remem- bers to put the milk bottle in q paper sack and carry 1t back to the hotel later in the afternoon.
 Looks to the Sea
 Playwright O'Nein is 45 now. and his hair Is rather gray. Con- trary to legend. he isn't especially melancholy, but likes to tell stor. les and laugh with his few inti- | ld-timers who remember his ac- | tor.fathor, James O'Neill, who was famous as the Count of Monte
 o'Neiii isn't purposeiy thrifty, they say; he just never has realised | that he need not return milk bot
 ties or live in modest hotel suites. Royalties from his previous plays provide him Q considerable income, and he will have two more plays
 produced this season. Besides. he still has all his original manu- scripts, and has refused some startling offers for them. 5.
 Ono of these days, If his wife
 daughters, and the theater agree that they can spare him for a time
 he wants more than anything else to go to sea again.
 Tho Theatrical Huttons
 | Meanderings: David C"What.a. Man") CI'm-Just.a-H a-Home-Loving.
 Fellow") Hutton, who by strange
 coincidence is playing in one
 Broadway theater at tho same time l AtIHto 6tHlVlc MCEHeTbOH ID tfI1Ot~
 ing in another; complained bitter
 iy that Aimee didn't trust him.
 Now he poses for pictures with \
 chorus cutie on each knee.
 Prohibition agents have lost inter.
 est in their work. They have now
 been forbidden to spend federal
 money for liquor. And the speakies
 are taking the latches off their
 Whom Earl Carroll opened his
 Murder at the Vanities" on For ty-second street. tho Minskys.
 buriesque enterprenudists across
 the street. flashed on their mar.
 quee: SLAUGHTER AT MIN
 SKY'S" One of the towns
 richest bachelors is Paul Getty.
 Has e house in New York, two in
 Hollywood, three Dusenbergs and
 Q yacht. And is so shy that
 strangers at parties high.hat him
 like q country cousin. Con-
 petition has become so keen be-
 tween beer places in Yorkviiie, on
 Manhattan's upper east side. that
 they now give away steak and
 chicken dinners on Saturday nights
 with ten-cent glasses of beer. I