| Show Walter Winchell 4 i ON B BROADWAY R 0 A D WAr Copyright 1932 by DAily Dully Mirror Minor Inc Portrait of a Man Talking to lo Himself Its It's the kind of ot sound you feel but buL never hear It shoots out unexpectedly from vacant lofts tags you ou on the street and spends itself in the recesses of ot a s subway kiosk It may touch you as you stroll by a low casement In Tin Pan Alley or a adark adark adark dark stoop in th the tho Bowery cry Theres There's no accounting for its origin or its methods Sometimes it carries carries carries car car- ries you to the ecstasies of material frenzy and other times it leaves es you dripping in the to log o of oZ boarding house failure Its It's the wall wail of the city The silent mixed cry of the 0 This Is the story of ot Patsy Weidman When she was 10 years ears old the errant cry slipped sUpped out of the Big Dig City on the tall tail of a rattler and zoomed across the miles mlles of tracks to the quaint town of Patsy was singing at a Sunday school social and all the respectable gentry of the little community were in the thc audience They were good people with large families comfortable homes and cows in the yard back The majority of them had never been to New York but the glossy pages of the magazines HEARS REARS WAIL VAIL had told them of ot the glamour OF CITY and riches that were bestowed VILLAGE upon the successful stars of Broadway As Patsy completed ed her turn and the applause of or her friends rang through the crude auditorium the grocers grocer's wife bent over the seat in front of ot her to whisper to Patsy's mother Youve a fine little girl Mrs Weidman Weld Weld- man maybe some day shell she'll be one of them there actresses on the stage and you will be riding around Pottersville with your head high in th pride rIde Mrs Weidman giggled nervously She Soe SilenT SilenT- al always always al- al ways believed her daughter was the prettiest lass for miles mUes around and silently she turned away to hide the expression of hope that corroborated the words of ot the grocers grocer's wife That was the day that the wail wall of the city came into with the stealth of ot a housebreaker and the silent roar of a bad omen o When Patsy was 16 16 her mother packed her into inton a n day coach and with a final kiss sent her to New NewYork NewYork York Take STake good care of yourself and remember remember ber to write every da day she said with tears Well We'll say a little prayer for you ou each night Patsy After three months on Broadway Patsy connected connected con con- She was signed by a a. time small-time vaudeville vaudeville vaude vaude- ville vilie act to todo do a dance and be part of the and Co Her salary was 25 a week but that was a lot lotof lotof of ot money Why your father was earning much less than that when he married me her mother wrote But Patsy knew 25 hardly paid her expenses expenses expenses ex ex- ex- ex The summer rolled around and the vaudeville act flopped Her next Job was in a a third-rate third cafe in Coney Island She sang torch ballads and received 20 a week for bringing tears to the eyes of the molls of ot racketeers who frequented the spot One day she met Harry He was a heavy set man In his thirties with the kindly kindly kindly kind kind- ly smile simile of ot a gambler gf who had won and lost so often that life Ufe held no great thrill for him One night he asked the proprietor of the cafe to Introduce in introduce introduce in- in him to Patsy and she sat at his table be between between between be- be tween shows He seemed to know all about the pitfalls of New York and advised her on all her problems He Is such a nice man she later wrote He never gets fresh with me Police traced trued the message to Patsy's boarding house Yes he called me up she admitted but I know nothing about the shooting I didn't even know what his business was He never told me a thing Patsy was held as a material witness in one of the most important gang kUlin killings s of the year The newspapers boomed their daily lined head-lined salutes at her cell The obscure little Coney Island singer had made the front pages A woman came to see her one night It was Harrys Harry's wile wife You filthy little home-breaker home she spat You filthy little rat The matrons were forced to carry her away from the distraught prisoner a Patsy was finally released There were no Jobs for a dead gangsters gangster's gal gal |
