The Wilmington morning star., 1940-08-08
Man About

Bv GEORGE Tucker

NEW YORK-Aug. fisherman
Billingsley, the genial Oklahoma
refugee who is the genial impress
ario of the Stork club, spends a
cent and a half or So to send me
a post card describing the wonders
of his new airconditioning system.
During an evening, it filters out OF
the natural atmosphere more than
$50 quarts of water-or, he adds,
more LIQUID than all the custom
ers are consuming during the same
period.
Air-conditioning is a fine. thing.
Nevertheless, it would be nice II
everybody would get together On
lit. The trouble is that nearly every
establishment has its own separate
air-conditioning system. and no two
of them seem to agree on what
temperature is right for the So
called human body, with the result
that if you chase around much dur
ing the day you pass through a
variety of a~tmospheres comparable
to that inflicted on a piece OF an
healing steel.
Outdoors, it's 90. You step into
the building lobby, unair-condition-
ed, and it's 80. You walk into the
elevator, which runs between the
unair-conditioned lobby and the ar
conditioned Offices, and it's IS. You
20 into the air-conditioned Office,
and it's down to IS. And you've just
been in that atmosphere a couple
of hours getting acclimated when
it's time to 60 out to lunch-to
some restaurant that has its sys-
EN- down to so. The only solution
seems to be w. c. Fields classic
gag. In one of his shows he played
a butcher. and every time he step.
ped into the refrigerator, he care.
fully donned a bearskin coat.
The Associated Press building Of
ours in Rockefeller Center is just
a graveyard of shattered illusions.
Downstairs there is a restaurant,
and the two leading delegations Of
regular patrons r the AP men
and the glamorous Rockettes from
the neighboring Radio City Music
Hall, who every day dazzle thou.
sands Of people from all over the
country with their precision dane
ing.
Every day the Rockettes march
into the restaurant, looking exact
ly like any other 50 girls in the
world getting through with a hard
days work, and everybody asks,
Are those the Rockettes"
r And every day the squads OF
newspapermen amble into the re-
staurant, looking pretty much like
any other group of men getting
through the days work-although
many of them r men who have
had adventures all over the globe
and whose names r famous. And
the mattresses remark, ''You fell
lows don't look like newspaper
men," =
The only answer I can think of
is that the mattresses must have
been fooled by that old canard of
Ben Hecht's, who pictured all re-
porters in one of his plays as
scribes who went around with a
pint of whiskey in one pocket, and
a copy of the American Mercury
in the other.
If some fellow has a patent on
cocoanut-straw hats with a blue
band, he won't have to work again
and his grandchildren probably
won't either. Four out of five (wen,
maybe it's only three out of five)
men around town are wearing
them.
Also, an unusual number Of
girls are abroad on the Manhat.
tan streets without hats, a condi-
ton which has concerned the hat
people who are high-pressuring
with the propaganda that "A
woman can't look well without a
hat" Conversely, the progress
sives" are shouting the plausible
argument that an attractive colt.
fure can be as beautiful as any.
thing the milliners can manufac-
ture from cloth. It's total war, and
the casualties r legion.