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Show The Bie City: The Iron coughing of trolleys a. they rumble from corner to corner New York servicemen (just back from overseas) strolling along Bright Light Lane and warming their spirits over familiar ighti. The sunrise festival of vivid hues celebrating the birth of a new day Broadway's visual poetry punctuated by skyscraper exclatna-tion exclatna-tion points. . . . Hot-dawg addict gulping the delicacy as if it was the last h. d. on earth. . . . numbing surgery of a comely waitress' wait-ress' sharp glare cutting off a Romeo', Ro-meo', spiel Cabb.es bullying their way through traffic. A beanery with a caviar tag: Rendezvous Rendez-vous de Leon Film box-offices growing tails of waiting patrons blocks long. . . Shadows scribbling grotesque murals across the street. The furry waves of mink-coated first-nighters drowning a theater in luxury. . . Side-street hotels bruised with age, where misery goes to find company. . . "3in Stem thespians basking In the spotlight spot-light of their bragging tongues. Weary night-workers squatting on the masses' throne-a subway seat. Their cob-webbed orbs peer at each other as if they weren't there. . . . The well-heeled set pulling themselves them-selves up by their own booty. . . . Salesgals tucking the frayed edges of their patience under a smile and pinning it with a dimple. ... The rainbow glint of Jewelry on a Money Lisa. Her diamonds are campaign stars for boudoir battles. ... A deep, blue-eyed noon sky twinkling with sunshine, scarcely noticed by lunch-hourites. Morning stripping the Big Alley of its sparkling fig leaves, while the sun exposes is nude ugliness. . . . j Shooting galleries recruiting customers custo-mers by playing martial music. . . . ( Dusk prowling about the horizon as j The Street puts on its mazda apron and goes to work impressing pass- J ersby. . . . Professional mendicants j who are skilled window-dressers of their sympathy display. . . . Five ayem, when Broadway's raucous 1 roar subsides into a comforting purr. . . . The Saturday evening jubilee ju-bilee spree, when Neon Valley is packed to the brim with humanity attempting to smuggle a little amusement into their harried lives. . . . Midtown's paralytic traffic snailing its way forward. . . . Tin Pan Alley's jittery tempo striking up an overture for songwriters' insomnia. . Midtown Vignette: George Mann , reports about the kindly gentleman . on a park bench, who was break-, break-, lng bread crumbs for the pigeons. One pigeon fluttered down on 4he old man's knee to peck at crumbs that had fallen there. . . . "Do you ' like these crumbs better than popcorn?" pop-corn?" asked the kindly old fellow. ' . . . The pigeon cocked his head up at him and then resumed eating. "Well," continued the old man, "here it is nearly December. I suppose sup-pose you birds will be leaving me soon for the Southland." . . . Again the pigeon looked up said nothing and went on eating. . . . The old man got irritated and yelled: "Whatinell's the matter with you? Are you too good to talk to me?" . . . This time the pigeon didn't even look up but went on eating. . . . "How do you like that?" asked the old gentleman, shaking his head. "A deaf and dumb pigeonl" Sounds In the Night: In the Metro-pole: Metro-pole: "Waiter, bring me a skirtch I , and soda." ... At Enduro: "She stays out until the woo hours of th morning." ... At Armando's: "They've just been divorced. She got custody of his money." ... At the Henry Hudson Terrace: "He's , a heeluva guy." ... At Lum Fong's. "She used to be his heartache. Now ! she's just his earache." ... In the Stork Club: "Mayor LaGuardia will be the first guy in show business, who knows enough about horses not to bet on them." ... At the Chateaubriand: Cha-teaubriand: "Oh, well, here's mud in your mind." i Manhattan Murals: Placard in an E. 56th St. candy store window; "Welcome Home, Tony, You Phony!" ... The 98c packages of Jap souvenir invasion money sold at newsstands in Penn depot. . Jimmy's Sawdust Trail where the cover charge is ten cents. . . . The "No Dogs Allowed" sign outside the Tea Circus on 42nd Street. . . . The iny restaurant near Toots Shor's on W. 51st Street, which advertises: "Lunch 65c Positively No Celebrities!" Celebri-ties!" . . . One ad agency is so snooty it won't hire any office boy "below the rank of Lieut. -ColoneL" On Thanksgiving Eve, during that heavy rainstorm, cops recorded 41 fights on B'way. Most of them over who hailed the cab first. . . . Football Foot-ball betting with Broadway bookies this season totaled more than 12 million dollars in the Metropolitan area. . . . Clen Ryan, ex-secy to the mayor, is starting his own realty firm with nothing but millionaires for partners. . . . Eric Johnston's first official banning (since becoming movie boss) was Carole Landis singing sing-ing a film ditty titled: "I've Got a Flame Too Hot to Handle " |