The Waterbury Democrat., 1934-08-30
In New York
BY PAUL HARRISON

New York.-Broadway seemed tawdry. blatant; it's people tired and rather grim. Clash and clan gor were in the city's overtones, and even outdoor symphony con- certs tinkled like music boxes. Chorus girls apparently had an air of sullen resignation as they clat- tered through their routines. Man. hattans architectural monuments looked like unlovely shanties
 But all that was long ago. Two weeks ago - before took my weeks ago - before l took my va- cation. It was 8 vacation at Fire Island, which is an elongated over- grown sand dune seven miles out in the ocean. It is dotted with scrub pine, huckleberry bushes, poison ivy and small clusters of summer cottages. No automobiles, telephones, electricity or radios. No night clubs, traffic cops, chop suey palaces, or even summer theaters. It seemed like a swell place to Get Away From It All.
 After One Week.
 Many of the houses at Fire Is- land appear to have been patiently assembled from odd bits of drift wood and other flotsam. They arc well ventilated, with adequate apertures under the caves and over the doors-and right through the floors, for that matter-for the ingress of mosquitoes. And believe you this correspondent, it takes a pretty large aperture to admit a native Fire Island mosquito.
 As in nearly all beach cottages the mattresses are stuffed, be- lieve, with seaweed and clam shells Sometimes from soft clams). Living room decorations almost invariably consist of pen nants. frayed like battleflags, of Yale, Harvard, the New York Gi- ants and the Albany Night Boat. (Our living room boasted the pen nant of Freeport Lodge, No 1253 of the B. F. 0. E.). Also long placard, printed in red, telling peo- pie to be careful about fires. The lstand was so named because they | d to build bonfires on the beach
 warn ships coming in from ..a North Atlantic. They finally built a lighthouse, however, and now you are not supposed to build fires on Fire Island, lest the whole place go up in smoke. There are many people who can think of less tragic eventualities. A Bail for Fishermen
 By day, the residents go to the beaches on both sides of the island, which is so narrow in some places that husky surf-caster al- most might yank bluefish out of Atlantic ocean and heave hi minto Great South Bay. This feat never has been accomplished for the ex. cellent reason that surf casters neve seem to catch any fish. I saw a bluefish once, but later came to the conclusion that he must have been a shili, or decoy, em- ployed by the Fire Island Cham Der of Commerce.
 Anyway, people go to the beach, es. Some breast the breakers and the jellyfish; others toast their ting, and swat flies. At first, I kept an eye out for celebrities and found few artists, writers and stage folk. But they were mostly sunburned and uncommunicative: besides, Gene Fowler, the author, in a soiled and shapeless pair of white ducks, Is no more prepos- sessiong than Mir Hans Blitz, the pickle packer. Fannie Brice used to have a cottage on Fire Island. But Fannie doesn't live there any more.
 Three evenings a week there are movies in the community house. Not bad movies, either, so long as the sound apparatus keeps pace with the films. For addition al nocturnal Advertisement there are two soda fountains, three bars and a lot of scent pin games. Good citizens, though, are either asleep or playing cribbage by 1Or o'clock. T The Lure for a Moth
 Ten o'clock = after a week of such bucolic pleasures - was about the time I'd find myself strolling along the beach, pausinS now and then to tickle a stranded jellyfish into phosphorescent blush. but mostly with eyes above the western horizon, where a dif-,, fused radiance glowed against the sky. That was New York, 40 miles away.
 Glorious city of glamorous Glitter and gayety. realty and TO- nance marvellous metropolis! Filet mignon, Smorgasbord, Suki-' yaki, onion soup! Orchestras and orchids, applause and aplomb- tempestuous tempo! It's a grand town, and I cant imagine why ever wanted to go away.
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