Evening star., 1941-04-24
The Coming
Tower

II the Greeks have a word or two
for "Oh, yeah?" it must be their
response If Adolf Spartacus Hitler
says "Ye call me chief" And
school children of an elder day
may say, Strike down your guard,
gain the mountain passes, and then
do bloody work, as did your sires
at old Thermopylae! Is Sparta
dead? Is the old Grecian spirit
frozen in your brains. that you do
cover like a belabored hound be-
meath his masters lash?"
Spring and the War.
Spring has come TO Washington
Square, the war to the bar Of the
Hotel Astor. A British sailor talk
ing to an American civilian quoted
one of Churchill's speeches. Give
us the tools and We'll finish the
job" He was tall and dark. Some
thing insistent about him. He was
working off duty and not getting
time and half.
The war has come to Eighth ave-
nue.. On Eighth avenue there's
cafeteria that at night was almost
deserted except by the taxi drivers
who came in for coffee and dough-
nuts. Now this cafeteria has life
and good conversation. The men
are we'll dressed Their faces light
up with enthusiasm and they ges-
ture with their hands, as they con-
verse in several foreign languages,
Many of the women wear diamonds.
These people are refugees. happy
to be living in free America. IN
Europe they were accustomed 10
spend their evenings in cafes,
laughing and gesturing as they do
now. They must have mistaken
the cafeteria for a spa At least
they found it a convenient place
to converse. The eyes of the wom-
en- are filed with laughter and
tears.
The other evening I dropped into
a shooting gallery on Sixth ave-
nue., looking for professional chess
player I used to know. The first
time that l visited this shooting
gallery I put out II lighted cam
dies with II shots. or is it Is that
you get for a quarter? How I man.
aged this feat. which I have since
been unable to duplicate, I don't
know, unless it was the smell of
rye and powder. The professional
chess player was looking forlorn
so I sat down on the other side
OF his board and played couple
Of games of chess with him.
He was old and gray and wore
frock coat. His fraved black tie
leaned to one side, exposing the
collar button. The frock coat,
which had begun to accumulate a
greenish mold aroused my curiosity,
and I asked him how ne had come
TO be professional chess player.
He told me that he had been a floor
walker, and the daily incoming
throngs Of bargain-hunting women
had worn him down. To distract
his mind from days of madness,
which to him seemed filed with
hungry eyes and scratching finger
nails, he stayed at home evenings
and played checkers
At last he could stand It no
longer and decided that he would
make checkers his vocation He OBJ
tanned a concession at Conev Island.
From his customers he found there
was considerable interest in chess,
and so by studying the game, he
learned to play chess as well as
checkers. In the fall he moved
into the shooting gallery under the
Ell" where it was warm. BY this
time he could play two games at
the same time.
I didn't find the old chess play
er. and I wondered what had hap
pened to him.
"Chessie," the Baltimore and
Ohio kitten. has an elderly aunt
living at the Hotel Algonquin, Shes
sleek and clean and hard 10 un-
derstand. One of the walters owns
her. The bartender feeds her. Now
she won't drink her milk unless 1t
is served in champagne glass.
Not far from the Algonquin on
Sixth avenue there is an OLD
fashioned apotheCary shop, Ike
those once common in small towns.
This store with its weather-beaten
sign reminded me of the drugstore
in nv home town in Connecticut,
where I bought my first bottle OF
pop" How this old shop on Sixth
avenue has survived the vicissitudeS
of modern New York don't know.
Possibly the reason is that it spe-
cializes in good drugs without going
in for books, apple pie and silk
stockings.
Across from me in the subway sat
a big Negro. His left hand was
bapdaged. and from it oozed a
trickle of blood. He was intoxicated,
and as he sat there with his hand
hanging down over his chest, his
body lurched with the motion of the
train. This sight, commonplace as
1t was, reminded me of a book or
a play about murder in the subway.
I think 1t was called Murder in
the Subway" Funny how a knife
scratch can remind you of murder,
or maybe it was the seemingly life
less and lurching body. Fate and
dice don't mix, or do they? Lifes
a gamble, or so they tell us.
The two of them-a young woman
and young man-were pacing in
front of a chain store. The c. l. q.
again. She was saying, I've got it
figured out. A hundred times in both
directions, and we walk a mile"
I should like to live near the
water front where I could listen
to the footing of steamers. But
there is not so much footing being
done by steamers-not since the
war has come to the harbor.
JOSHUA K. BOLLES.
4 Il =
An American citizen may not be
knighted. but the upper bracketeers