The Waterbury Democrat., 1934-03-16
In New York
By PAUL HARRISON

New York.-An earnest young musician. only a year or so re- moved from the leadership of a college orchestra, has found IL necessary to live in one of those low-priced theatrical hotels which line the side streets off midtown Broadway. Finds the noise rather disquieting, but he never had a really e-shattering experience until late the other night as he was trying to compose himself for sleep.
 Fioating through the thin par tition from the next room came slow, ill-timed, tinkling notes barely recognizable as My Coun- try, Iris of Thee" Sounded as though someone were playing a dolls piano, with one finger. It got to the q. of thee I sing" part and hit a very sour note. Started over again and got still further off the tune. This happened at least a dozen times, maddeningly slow and terribly off key. Finally the shuddering listener couldn't stand it any longer. Threw on g dressing gown, rushed out and knocked at the door. No answer. But it was slightly ajar, and the light was on, so he looked in.
 Only occupants of the
 room were two little fluffy
 dogs. One was standing be-
 fore small xylophOnc, polk
 ing dispiritedly at a series Of
 levers that operated 1t. The
 instrument was draped in pur-
 pie velvet embroidered with
 the legend: "Case's Clever
 Canines."
 Solves Rent Problem
 There's good deal of gallantry connected with the bold fronts put up by out-of-luck Broadwayites. Some of them will go hungry rather than admit they're broke. Many an actress, Wearied by a days round of the booking offices, will spend each evening sewing and washing and pressing her sin gle outfit of street clothes in prep xration for the next days search. Vaudeville people and musicians never will confess that they have mt a lucrative engagement in sight. And then there are the booking agents-three or four of them-whO haunt the lobby of the old Strand theater building.
 These men have the smallest "offices" in the world--telephone Each has cards printed identifying Theater Building, Office Hours, In n Frhnrnte, al hn fa1n phone number of one of the booths Each afternoon these fellows stand in booth for two hours and receive their calls. There are quite lot of calls, too, from out-of- work actors who want to inquire whether anything has turned up.
 Meeting new clients is a little more difficult. When a friend says he's going to send someone around next day the agent asks what the prospect looks like, then waits in the lobby until the fellow comes in. Dashing up to him he says: You're Harry Glotz, aren't you? Sorry I can't ask you up to the office, but I'm just rushing out on a big deal. Maybe I can get you in on 1t. Gimme your name and address and some dope on your experience, and I'll handle you. Here's my card. Call me up any day between and and I'll tell you what's going on."
 The new client goes out, con- vinced that he has put himself into the hands of live-wire agent. And the agent goes back to his phone booth.
 Good for the Nerves
 A lady author, who wouldn't like to have her name men, toned Gin this story,> at least) confides that she has found a new source of fiction material. A few months ago, thinking she was on the verge of nervous collapse, she went to a psychoanalyst. It turned out that there was nothing wrong with her nerves, but the doctors exhaustive questioning did bring to her mind some former experiences which provided her with two short stories. They sold for ten times the cost of the treat ment.