The Waterbury Democrat., 1934-03-02
Tn New York
RY PAUL JAMESON

SSLOppeQ COUlHlutluS IEalHS anu practically everything else on Long Island and in Connecticut l brought out all the latent pioneer spirit of the civilized softies. and was something of a social success besides.
 Neighbors who hadn't visited each other in weeks strapped on barrel-stave skies or tennis-racket l thing and a couple of cansv of beans, kissed their children ten derly, and ventured out into the swirling drifts to succor each other. A rescue party reaching Jim Smiths house, for example, would discover that good old Jim was over rescuing Bill Jones. So they'd keep on going until finally they'd find both Jim and Bill over at John Blanks house. There they'd open their beans and their fiasks, and pretty soon they'd all be singing
 "In the Good Old Summertime" The storm didn't catch every
 body well prepared, though. Up at the Westport art colony, J. Ham, ilton Fyfe and his family found themselves with one can of crab meat and a jar of truffles. And Kenneth Littauer, a magazine edi- tor, fought drifts for seven hours to reach his house, where he found the maid and his three children huddled around the embers of what had been antique furniture. Some shiny Grand Rapids pieces, Of the Hoover period, were still in- tact. Roy Atwell, the actor, was discovered looking sadly at a ticket for a Florida train that had departed two days before. :. Another of the snowbourd colony was Julian Rose, the fellow who
 books tours to Iceland and Alaska. Actors who live out at Great Neck, Long Island, had tough time of it, being obsessed by the tradition that the show must go on. Dennis King started out in the morning, and finally had to hire a truck and three men to get to the theater on time. Eliza
 beth Risdon walked three miles to Q main highway and then paid a
 man $25 to drive to a subway sta tion.
 Willie Howard hired a team of horses and sleighs made the 20 miles in five hours, and got to the "E'ollies" just two minutes before he was due on the stage.
 East Side, West Side =. A man who knows more about the sidewalks of New York than Al Smith, or any inquisitive col
 umnist, or even any of the city s postmen, is Thomas David Storie i When he works. MT Storie is bent over .draughtIng board in the of fees of the U. s. army engineers; after that, though, he goes walk. | ing.
 Last fall he and Mrs Storie eel ebrated the completion of every single street, avenue and alley on | Manhattan Island. They had walked 490 miles without once re- tracing a route. and traversed rlaces the average New Yorker
 never heard of-such as Little West Twelfth street, Theater Alley and Broadway Terrace.
 "It sounds like g strange sort of amusement," Storie says. But for people who haven't a car, or much money, we haven't found anything better to do."
 sidewalk pounding has been his
 hobby for long time. Began with | his home town in Chattanooga,
 Tenn, and since then has been all
 over Boston, St Louis and Phila- delphia.
 | Slight Change
 A gracious little anecdote re-
 called at the Actors Dinner club
 the other night: Minnie Maddern
 Fiske once found in her dressing
 room 8 note which read: Mar garet Anglin says Mrs Fiske Is the best actress in the world" Mrs