The Waterbury Democrat., 1939-03-16

, grapned.
 A year and 8 half ago, the makers of Crisis" went into CzechoSlovakia to film the country, its physical beauty. American eyes ana ears. They wanted to show every aspect of the country, tis physical beauty, its industries, culture and popu- lation.
 Then as the peaceful filming of these native scenes was under way, the lid flew off the boiling cauldron in the Sudetenland. In- stantly, the cameras were rushed into the trouble area, then to Prague and to military fortifica- tions in all parts of the land.
 AS the Czech crisis grew more grave, the film makers plight be- came worse and worse. People on both sides of the military lines had reason to be suspicious of cameras. The camera crew risked life and limb taking pictures of guerilla warfare. But by stealth and shrewd maneuvering, the whole story of the Czech crisis was photographed right up to the day of Munich.
 But even then the problem of exporting the film from Prague was great. A rigorous censorship had been set up and the makers of Crisis" were forced to hide their precious pictures in an ob- scure basement for five weeks be- fore they could smuggle them out by means they cannot yet divulge.
 DANGEROUS SLAP
 Mary Nash, a gracious lady of the stage. who wed herself to the cinema, is with that other gracious little lady, Shirley Temple, in the new picture, Little Princess" Miss Nash was telling a friend all about it in a letter the other day.
 She was going to withdraw from Little Princess" because originally she was supposed to slap Hollywood's ten-million-dol- lar baby hard across the face. Miss Nash said she wouldn't do it; nothing would induce her to hit Shirley. So this unpopular sequence was deleted.
 Miss Nash explains that her adamant stand harks back to "Heidi," in which she did smack Shirley around. She received so much irate mail, berating her cruelty to children, that she de- cided to guard her reputation Striking Shirley, even for fun, is no joke!
 GABBY CABBIEs
 Next to the excitable pilots of Parish hacks, Manhattan's taxi drivers are the most whimsical and most conversational. John Anthony tells of hailing a cab the other day, driven by an un- kempt, unwashed charioteer with sociable air.
 They were driving down Fifth Avenue and the cabbie was chat tering about matters sundry. Sud- denly he turned to his fare and, apropos to nothing, declared, What I need is plenty of good advice. I need it bad. What am I goin' to dog De women, dey won't let me al0Y,eI"
 I can match Anthony's report with another. After circuiting the town. I hired a taxi near Lindy's and settled back in the tonneau.
 Approaching Central Park, the driver, who has chauffeured me before, yelled back, I'm kinda lonesome this morning, MT. R. Whaddaya say I put the flag down and we cut through the park and talk!
 FELINE PHARMACY
 Add to Manhattan's crowded ag- gregation of oddities--a drugstore for cats, the only pharmacy of the ailing feline, to my knowledge, in the world.
 But here it is, fully equipped medicinal supply store for cats, situated in Greenwich Village and conducted by a kindly lady named Doris Bryant. Miss Bry- ant has everything to soothe a pouting Persian or sulky kitten.
 The reason that she staked out Greenwich Village is that there are more pet cats per inhabitant down there than in any other part of the city.