The Ypsilanti daily press. (Ypsilanti, Mich.) 1928-1962, 1945-09-20
STAGE and SCREEN
By DOROTHY KILGALLEN

By DOROTHY KILGALLEN
II Broadway was your home, you
may return to It without fear. sol
der. And you. sailor. sailing homo
from the years on tropical seas,
rest easy in your hammock with
your dreams OF things-as-they-used
to be. The street you loved-that
spelt romance and challenge and
fun and success TO you-is just the
same.
II seemed changed. OF course, in
the hurry-scurry madness OF the
past Ave years, the way gold towns
and oil towns change when pockets
are heavy and wine flows In the
saloons and every wind blows eX-
element through the streets.
Broadway had its boomtown look,
and its wartime look. and there
we're times when you wouldn't have
known tor liked II. But the
endless crowds pushing toward no
where, the cheating prices in the
amusement area, the sidewalk
queues. the darkness at night In n
square that used to boast perpetu-
al dazzling incandescent daylight
these we're just the icing on the
bitter cake OF war. War hysteria
changes streets as II does people.
But peace brings back the normal
look, the quieter tone. And you
will find Broadway suffering from
no psychosis.
The sightseeing bus with its pira-
teal barker is back again -.
Nickels still At the slots at the
Automat o.. Hometown papers can
be had for a dime at that old rem
dozvous OF the lonely. the Times
Square newsstand. -. The book
makers ogle you in front of the old
Lindys and the songwriters talk
about their ulcers in the new ONE.
The Winter Garden and the Am
bassador wear movie posters, but
they're still theaters :. Shows sell
at cut rate in some ticket offices
and taxis charge a dollar a head to
take fans to the baseball games.
You won't see Broadway Rose In
the stage door alleys, but Louis the
Guitar and Swiftly Morgan are still
around.
The tired trolleys pushing
across 42nd St. need a coat OF paint,
but the artery that once had a
movie musical written about II Is
as noisy and jazzy as ever, with
pretzel vendors and songsheet
peddlers on its curbstones and a
hot-dog stand next to every tawdry
movie palace. II there's Margie
Hart film in town-or one starring
Ann Corio-that's where you'll find
IT.. The mama geese are still
serene in the Central Park Lake,
and their goslings still happy. The
Tavern-on-the-G Green, where you
used to dine with your girl while
the man in the moon looked down,
is open again and made for ro-
nance on an Indian summer eve
ming. Detective Johnny Broder-
lex still strolls Broadway in his
bankerish set OF threads, Benny
Rubin dialects his gags for the Sar-
di set that's checked by carrot-curl.
ed Renee Carroll, Just as in the days
you knew, and Sigmund Romberg
holds court for music-lovers In his
fayorite corner at the Ritz Towers.
They're the same hackies and the
same horses in front OF the Plaza,
Just a little older, that's all. e.
Agents push past the parked limo
usine in Shubert Alley. young actors
perch hopefully on the stools at
Ralph's, doormen at the theaters
are the tallest men in town. Even
the dresses on the girls have
changed very little. Styles stood
still and waited for you to get
home. Trains heading for the
racetrack are jammed Sprinkler
trucks water the streets at dawn.
The long-darkened animated cleo
trio sign on the east side OF Broad
way is alive now with droll dane.
ing figures and little comedy plots
that form as you look. Laugh
ter f. fashionable again. and un'
self-conscious. so visiting fremen
frolic in the aisles at Leon &
Eddie's when Eddie Davis appears
and a new comic named Jan hurry
is enjoying a vogue at LaMartini
que. >. Joe f. Lewis, who was al
the Copacabaua when you left, is
back there again. He has some
new songs in his repertoire, but
he'll be happy to sing Sam. You
Made the Pants Too Long" II you
request II for aud lang syne. a..
Crows still giraffe up to read the
electric news ticker in Times
Square, and bobby-soxers still kiss
crooners' pictures in lobby displays
... Chorus girls wear Stacks Il