The Waterbury Democrat., 1935-10-07
In New York
BY PAUL HARRISON

| New York, oct. 1-tOtndn ls Il giant that never sleeps. Just re- taxes a little, with tired sigh, dur ing few hours of early morn- ing darkness.
 There is activity here, quieter but no less purposeful. The big town is vigilant at night, and al- ways preparing for the morrow. Food comes in, hundreds of tons of it. Milk arrives by thousands of gallons. Hordcs of scrub-wo- men scuttle through the skyscrap- CTS, while far below in the sub way caverns swarms of men in- spect every foot of track.
 Great presses roar, and out comes the news to be read at mill lions of breakfast tables. Hun drcds of police radio cars patrol the streets. Ambulances howl through the night, and traffic ! somehow always manages to be
 "'s.: in he hospital accident
 ..,.s JuGges in night court, lang their gavels-"Next case" Railroad stations and hotel lob bics never are deserted. There al- ways are hungry people in the all- night restaurants.
 Making Connections
 Long lines of quick-eyed, delft fingered women fin the tele- phone exchanges assist the auto matic switching devices to put through calls. A similar line, at d similar board, does nothing but watch all night for red lights to flash. My remote control, they're guardians of thousands of offices and stores wired against burglary.
 In heavily curtained penthouse es. men and women in evening clothes watch litle white balls bounce into the wrong slots of roulette wheels. In night-club dressing rooms, heavy with pow der scent. dancers in scanties await their cues and wish the night would end. On the water front. giant floodlights show frcighters and liners being loaded. By tunnel. bridge and great steel car-fcrries. freight trains reach Manhattan Island. The big town never sleeps.
 Business Paradox
 To find the quietest part of New York by night, you must go to the region that Is noisiest and naddest by day. l mean Wall Street. on Broadway.
 IT Uofu 1ufn ri horn nv nj o'clock. silence has come to the financial section, and from that hour onward the silence thickens like fog, becoming oppressive, ominous. The cleaning women arc in the palaces of big business, but you hear none of their dull chat ter or the swishing of their mops. As they move through ten thou sand offices, specks of light twin klc out on the dark canyons; twinkle and go out. Finally from each building. the women emerge and shuffle past you muttering and complaining like unhappy wraiths.
 From midnight on, there Is no changing sigh or sound. Well, maybe you do hear q telephone bell yammering somewhere in one of the skyscrapers. Wrong num- Der, of course. And sometimes you hear the slow footballs of q bored policeman.
 There Is no traffic in the streets. A dim light shows somewhere back in the Morgan offices. The Stock Exchange Building is dark. but you wonder whether that vast trading hall may still hold eerie echoes of wealth won and for tunes lost.
 Graveyard In the Dark
 An old newspaper scuds across the sidewalk with a sigh and startles you out of your reverie. Then policeman cOnfronts you. Hey, you" he barks--and you can see that he's ready for trou- blc. Whats 1t all about"
 You try to. explain, and are sur priscd when he seems to under stand. "Okay," he says. "Thcy's no law against wall,in' here. only nobody ever docs. It gives you something to think about, all right. Trouble with me is, 1t gets me to thinkin' too darned much."
 And so you stroll through the dark hallway of Wall street to- ward spire black against the western sky. Trinity Church and it's graveyard. with moon strik- ing down through cloud-touching towers to the old, crumbling stones. Here Is real death. and a fitting enough place for ghosts to walk. And yet, somehow. 1t all seems strangely peaceful. You wonder if this may be because Trinity ,nlka Watl afranf hnIAa