The Waterbury Democrat., 1940-11-08
Walter WinchelI
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world.
 The coffee-pot philosophers, com posed of cabbies, musicians, wait- CTS and other night workers, who enjoy themselves thrashing out world problems over a cupacawfee during the 3-to-5 ayems The skyscrapers and the sunrise tinted with colors of silent music. Ma lures thrilling overture to a new day Cloudy-eyed successes sprawled across Lindy's chairs, dis- cussing their worries and troubles And the tourists, who see them and drool with envy-for such a won- derful existence" .. The fairyland skyline, ultra-thrilling when you see 1t from the ferry, wearing a shiny coat of moonglow i. A lonely plane racing over the city, its landing lights looking like moving jewels against the nighttime sky.
 The lanky Empire State building looking over the shoulders of all the other skyscrspers around 1t .. The league of nations in the sub- ways, peacefully reading newspapers or hanging onto straps. If they were in their native European country, they would be dropping bombs on each other The impaSsive loaf CTS who stand on Broadway corners watching the big parade. A flicker of life romps across their faces only when a pretty gal passes The cushioned barns they call night clubs that flop and spring up again with antoher name. "Wise" guys getting stuck trying to make another "easy dollar" The museum in the RCA edifice depicting the won- ders of machines, making human beings feel their unimportance |. The vacuum-like Lincoln Tunnel, where an auto horn sounds like a bonb- blast.
 The European travel agencies along Fifth Ave. with their ads of the beauties of that part of the world, which always causes passers- by to comment about the irony i. Drunks in full bloom smearing the early morning peace and beauty of the town as they weave through the midtown streets The will kie buttons on the Die-Hards in the smarter night clubs The army of birds that make their homes in corners of skyscrapers, seeming as out of place as caviar in the Auto. mat The poetic beauty of Coney Island these days. Because practically no people are there to clutter 1t up.
 The movie theaters around town giving away all kinds of things to attract patrons-except entertain ment The sheer artistry with which bus drivers maneuver the gigantic things through the maze of downtown traffic The so- whatty craze that afflicts almost everybody at this time of the year guessing football results The organ grinder with the monkey that is always in films about New York as something typical of the city, but we haven't seen one for years The Soapboxer down at Union Square making the air shiver from his growls about the recession. Re- member how popular that word used to be? Why doesn't these bores get a new act?
 Broadway at five ayem: When all Its throbbing excitement has boiled down to murmuring hush The new rubber tires on milk wagons, a blessing to light sleepers |. The antique shop on Third Ave. It has picture of Ben Bernie in the window .. The continuous sleight- of-tongue by auctioneers who blah- blah about a ten-cent item with as much fervor as if they were run ming for public office The whacky intolerance of an uptown barber shop. They have a sign in the window announcing that they don't give haircuts to red heads. Ever hear of anything dopier than that? Wonderful Harry Dal- ton, an Irish Catholic lad, who helps erase the stink of the town-by go- ing around breaking Nazi noses.