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Show (l 1 " ' L.LJ i On the New York Scenic Railway: ! The long parade and the exciting band music in the fierce rains and winds north along Fifth Avenue with hardly anyone among the pedestrians pe-destrians brave enough to'pause and watch. (What dope insisted upon that parade, anyhow, in such pneumonia pneu-monia weather?) . . . The knots of nuts cluttering up Columbus Circle exercising their Constitutional rights with double talk about the next war. . . . The blinking elec-tricks elec-tricks on the Broadway signs embellished em-bellished by the penmanship of the furiously falling rain. . . . The 59th Street management's reply to freezing freez-ing tenants: "No heat until October 1st!" The Waldorf has it, however. . . . Miss Liberty, everyone's favorite favor-ite pin-up gal, winking happy hellos to shiploads of returning veterans, who fought for her honor. The cacophony of buses, taxis, trolleys, cars (and women) as they merge at 34th and Broadway in what seems like an inextricable tangle then miraculously emerge again without a fender dented a symphony sym-phony of NYClatter. . -. . The aroma of oncoming autumn heralding the return of King Football and rah-rah-coon coats the signal that Ma Nature's Na-ture's getting set to wield her brush with those magic browns, yellows and reds. . . . Staten Island's shore line still brimming with the implements imple-ments of war. . . . Newly inducted soldiers, without war ribbons looking look-ing like overgrown Boy Scouts. Broadway, washing her face ot war paint, trimming her wartime war-time hustle and bustle and setting set-ting her coiffure with the brightest bright-est of lights for the postwar hoopla. . . . Faces and facades, absent for too long, reappearing with joyous smiles, like exiles who've been given a reprieve. . . . The red, white and blue service flags now flecked here and there with stars of gold grim reminders of those who fought the good fight and won't come back. . .. The be-medaled private, cane in hand, strutting down Vth, tilting his MacArthur corncob pipe at a jauntily precarious pre-carious angle. The book stores along the Gayer White Way advertising "Social Dancing" instead of "How to Prepare Pre-pare for Your Army I. Q. Test" . '. The 42nd St. Army & Navy stores offering "Tailor-Made Sailor Suits" at reduced prices. . . . Drug-stores with signs shouting, "Yes, We Have Bobby Pins." . . . The honey-sweet "Thank you" from the cutie behind the ciggie counter at the Waldorf. . . . The dance hall on 7th Ave. where the G.I.s go to cut a rug on Saturday nights. It is called "The Midtown Youthopia." . . . The subways, sub-ways, returning to their eerie dawn-patrolling dawn-patrolling half empty, looking semi-nude without their early ayem sleepy war workers. The chatterers In Bryant Park trying to figure out what's worth arguing about. . . . The medieval architecture of St. Patrick's, getting its modern face-lifting grudgingly yielding to the hordes of busy workers work-ers while kids feed the pigeons on the step. ... The faded picture of FDR almost hidden in the side window of a downtown picture gallery. gal-lery. . . . The wisies who diller-dol-lared their war time moo on nonsense non-sense and frillies eyeing the Wise Men who sunk theirs in bonds and are holding on to them. . . . The big, new department store being dug at 53rd and Vth, with a knot hole fence knee high. . . . Sign in the window of a 72d Street eatery "Waiter Wanted Bring References." Refer-ences." The colorful ribbon of light whirling around the neck of the Times Bldg. waving all that good news to the Broadway gapers. . . . The Brooklyn Navy Yard and its half finished ships. . . . The one-armed window gazer on Madison and 43rd with battle ribbons on his gray flannel flan-nel civvies. . . . The long line o( want-addicts in front of the Madison Avenue V. S. Employment Employ-ment offices. . . . The Bowery Joynt offering a "Victory Bath" and shower for a dime. ... A returning air force captain being be-ing greeted with a sticky "heloooo, dahleeeennng" from a sub-deb In an East Fiftieth sub- cellar. . . . The Tower of Babel that congregates In the St. Mor-itz Mor-itz lobby and spills out on the sidewalk. . . . That "situations wanted" ad In the Times of a well known war analyst. A ferry dawdling across the Hudson Hud-son like a glacier of molasses. . . . The tattered shoes of shoeshine boys. . . . The Belasco Theatre's unique marquee with its hanging lanterns. . . . The Players Club where thesplan Edwin Booth once lived. The furnishings in his room remain intact. . . . The Waldorf's opulent residential suites decorated with garden terraces. . . . The two-story two-story frame structure wedged in among Convent Avenue's tenements h'i;ii - Mnxnnder Hamilton as his COl'' |