The Washington times., 1936-02-15

uueS, WAS O11C6 SuDA4AVUCA " VAAAA'
department by Jimmy Cannon
Since this reporters forthcoming
novel centers about the locale, we
take the liberty Of passing it on
to you again, with due apologies
to Jimmy and the readers:
Dream Street. Damon Rum
yOn first called 1t Dream Street
that dismal stretch OF West
FOrty-seventh Stree, between
Broadway and Sixth Avenue.
A freak name, Mister RunyOn.
q great name.
Along Dream Street, bOOlies
take their sly bets and ladies
of the evening walk their weary
beats in the twilight.
Along Dream Street, when
the Broadway lights begin to
twinkle, hop peddlerS sell their
happy snuff, and ships steam
into Poppy HarbOr.
Along Dream Street the
seedy tune tailOrs tell of songs
Swirling in their beans, and one
Of these days they are going to
be strOked out Of . piano.
Along Dream Street, fat
thighed burIesQue chorus girls
are Ethel BarrymOres in their
dingy hotel rooms where mice
squeak and anything goes.
Along Dream Street (acrObats
haired hooters, with the seats
Of their pants as shiny IS their
hair, clatter through clumsy
clogs and say Pat Rooney knew
somebody.
Along Dream Street one finds
the Palace stage door leading to
the Big Time and dough in the
kick. But a fella guards the
door.
Along dream Street, acrObats
tell Of their notices and their
stunts, and how these managers
don't appreciate artists anymore.
Peaches Browning, Peggy Joyce
and other notorious frillS get all
the dough, work and billing.
Dream Street, great name,
Mister RunyOn, a great name.
And when the moon shines and
the Broadway lights are out,
Dream street is a creepy place.
Shadows move, and people act like
shadows.
Cigarette girls in speakeaSies
drag their weary feet to smelly
hotel rooms.
Drunks roll along, and shadows
follow them. take them and give
the bookies the profits.
NewSieS shoot craps in doorwayS
and taxi drivers whisper vaguely
Of hideaways and liquor and girls.
: Cafeterias on Dream Street are
hammed with quick money boys
with tears in their socks and lies
on their tongues.
"Hop Heads Alley" Mark Hell
linger calls it, but I like Dream
Street, where ships steam into
Poppy Harbor, and meals are few
and far between.
A great name, Mister Runyon, a
great name. Dream Street!
(And a great piece, Mister
Cannon, a great piece but
Dream Street has changed since
you wrote the above. The Pal
ace stage door no longer lends
to the Big Time and kick in the
dough. And the acrObats and
the hooters and the song and
dance men no longer huddIe
there and worry how Peaches
Browning and Peggy Joyce and
other frilIs get all the dough,
work and billing, for Peaches
Browning and Peggy Joyce and
some Of those other friIIs you
had in mind no longer get the
dough, or the work, or the bill
ing. The little smelly, creep
hotels still dot the street but
the cigarette girls no longer
drag their way home from the
speakeaSieS because the speak
easieS are gone. The bOOkieS
have shifted to other streets.
Otherwise, Mister RunyOn'S
Dream Street, your Dream
Street, and mine-iS still the
same. jimmy
For three years she had been
knocking vainly at the doors of
producers, seeking the Great Op-
portunity. And then, when Life
looked Darkest, the Producer saw
her, spoke to her and asked her
to call the following day for re-
hearSal. It was an important role
and you can believe she was the
envy of practically every female
member of the company. How
ever, she was just as Sweet-natured
as she was beautiful and her sud-
den ascent to the dizzy heights
didn't turn her head. She even
talked to the stage hands and one
night was seen at Reuben'S with
the oboe player. Just a demo
cratic kid.
Six long dreary weeks she re-
hearsed and never complained.
Came the night Of the opening.
From her home town in Jersey
had arrived a delegation Of we'll
wishers, headed by the mayor,
the principal Of the high school
and the editor Of the towns
daily. 1t was to be . great
night. And then Dark Tragedy
tapped her wings. The Little
Girl was Mortified to discover