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Show BROADWAY AND MAIN STREET Charlie Employs Strategy to Out-Maneuver Ice Digger By BILLY ROSE At least four times in the past week I've been buttonholed on Broadway and asked, "Have you heard what happened to Charlie Feltus?" Well, I have, but on the off-chance that you haven't, perhaps per-haps I ought to bring you up to date ... For as long as I can remember, Charlie Feltus has been a promoter of things and people, and by and larcenous he has always made a pretty nice dollar at it. However, like a lot of other Times Squareheads, he has never held on to these dollars for long because of a weakness for bang- ailc and hlnnrips In recent months, to hear the wisenheimers tell it, it's been rough going for Charlie in both depart- ments seeing as how (a) most of his earnings have been going into the jewel box of a platinum-mopped tootsie named Hazel Duke, and (b) his luck at the race track has been as Damon T3.. n INT"-. 1 of the porterhouse and all the champagne, cham-pagne, but there was still no sign of Butch. Finally, plenty peeved, she told herself that no horse hustler hus-tler was going to make her wait around with ketchup on her mouth. But as she rose to go the waiter handed her a tab for $51.20. "Tell the manager I'm Mr. Flee-son's Flee-son's guest," she said. FIVE MINUTES later the manager man-ager appeared. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I just phoned Mr. Flee-son Flee-son and he says he had no appointment appoint-ment here tonight." "Okay," said Hazel wearily. 'Til leave this bracelet as security and come in tomorrow to pay you." The manager took the bracelet and beckoned to a stoutlsh gent who was sitting at the bar. The man walked over, flashed a detective's badge and handed Hazel a typewritten sheet headed, head-ed, "Articles 0 jewelry stolen from Mrs. Elizabeth Stone." And when Hazel examined the list she saw that, item for item, it matched the jewelry she was wearing. "There's some mistake," she said. "I got these things from a Mr Charles Feltus and he told me he bought them on Fifth Avenue." "You can explain it in court " said the detective. "In the meantime, mean-time, hand the stuff over. I'll let you go home tonight but I'd suggest you don't try to leave town." When Hazel got to her apartment she found a sheet of paper under the door. It was a duplicate of the jewelry list the "detective" had shown her. At the bottom was a message in Charlie's familiar scrawl: "Butch Fleeson thanks you, the syndicate thanks you, and I thank you. Don't slam the door, sucker." this heart-to-heart, -1 might as well tell you I've been thinking of calling call-ing it quits. Don't slam the door, sucker." NATURALLY, Charlie was hurt by this kiss-off, especially after his many blue-white kindnesses to the little lady, but he was an old campaigner cam-paigner and so he left without breaking her arm or doing anything else ungentlemanly. The next day Hazel got a phone . call from Butch Fleeson, the bookie. "Hello, beautiful," he said. "I hear tell you've given Charlie the brush and " "You want to pick it up where he left off," laughed Hazel. "Okay by me, and you can begin by taking me to dinner." "You catch on quick," said the bookie. He named one of the exclusive ex-clusive eateries on the East Side and went on, "Meet you at seven, and if you get there first order yourself your-self a drink. I'll be over soon as 1 finish with the bets on tonight's fight." An hour and four Martinis later. Butch phoned Hazel at the restaurant. "I got jammed up," he said, "but I'll be over if a few minutes. Have them ice up a couple of quarts of champagne cham-pagne and order the biggest double steak in the house. I'm starved." By 9, Hazel had polished off most """J"" uacu l" Billy Rose put it a whole lot less than somewhat. Came a bleak and bleary-eyed evening not long ago when Charlie called on Hazel with a face longer than Durante's smeller. "I'm in a spot, baby," he gloomed. "I owe my bookie. Butch Fleeson, seven grand and he just tipped me off that if I don't pay up by the end of the week I'm in for some bad trouble. Butch, as you know, is a pal of mine and wouldn't make no fuss if it was up to him, but he says the guy who runs the syndicate is pressing press-ing him." "What can I do about it?" asked Hazel. "Well," said Charlie, eyeing the glinty knick-knacks on her arms and neck," I could raise several grand on your jewelry. It would be just a loan, you understand . . ." "Nuts to that loan stuff," said Hazel. "And while we're having |