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Show Lights of New York by L. L. STEVENSON "Will Eroadway ever be 'Broad- j way' again?" (The inquirer- is a . graying lad practically born on the ! street known over the world.) "It's a question constantly propounded on the highways and byways of America. Amer-ica. One does not have to be an old-timer to recall with a sigh the Broadway of yesterday. The lights flashing the name of 'Rector's' at 48th street, diagonally across from Churchills's where now there is a news reel theater. The Bal Tabarin, with Ted Lewis and his orchestra, and Eva Tanguay, where now there is a dark and silent night club. The Moulin Rouge, Shanley's, the Monte Carlo, the Pekin, the Strand Roof, the Ziegfeld Roof; the Claridge where producers and stars, grifters and drifters, song pluggers and agents lunched and munched words. What a street it was only a quarter of a century ago! i "Broadway, a street of bright lights but no orange juice stands. ' No cheap carnival attractions. No monotony of little shops displaying goods at cut and cut-throat prices. . 1 A few dignified shops made up its daytime appeal. Large stores displaying dis-playing the class merchandise of the town, evening apparel, Paris-in-, spired; swank haberdashery. Col-: or, charm, wealth, beauty, glamour these were the attributes of the' Broadway of yesterday. What hap-' pened? Why the great change? ; S-s-sh, quiet, and I'll tell you. Prohibition Pro-hibition was the cause. The act that i bore the name of Volstead was what shuttered the big Broadway resorts. When that act became law, the. Broadway of song and story passed into the realm of memory. "Though Broadway died, its habitues ha-bitues remained very much alive. There Vas a call for help and the answer came from the speakeasy. Broadway was too famous, too well: lighted, too public for undercover operations. Prohibition agents Izzy Einstein, Moe Smith and their ilk, made it too dangerous to provide luxury. Out of the blue they came with axes and warrants. A G-man then was a prohibition agent; he had no other identity. No one could flaunt luxury in his face he destroyed de-stroyed too quickly and ruthlessly. So in place of the pretentious homes of revelry on Broadway, came cellars cel-lars and back rooms, uncomfortable chairs, cramped quarters, stuffy aromas and high prices for doubtful goods. Broadwayites, who never before be-fore had known what a side street' looked like after dark, suddenly ' became acquainted with the lights: and shadows from Seventh to Park. ; "Prohibition finally came to an end. Little sallow-faced speakeasy owners, head waiters et al, were finally able to emerge for a breauY of fresh air. Their places turned legitimate and they along with them. So they spruced up their establishments, opened the windows, purchased advertising space and instead of hiding their locations, designated des-ignated them with neon lights so that they could be found all the easier. Furthermore, they used Uncle Sam's postmen to carry their propaganda to long lists of patrons. And former customers continued to go back to the filling stations that had taken their money during the so-called 'dry era.' "They've been going back ever since. The night life addict thinks of Broadway only as the name applies ap-plies to the theater. Night owls, that is, those with money enough to pay the tariff, have decided that the East Side is swanky and therefore the place to go. They had become accustomed ac-customed to the 'intimate' type of rendezvous and the habit got them even though now they do not sit on two by four benches in barren surroundings sur-roundings or gain admittance by giving three raps and asking for Tony. The speakeasies, now eminently emi-nently respectables, with many catering cater-ing to society, continue to prosper. New places, attracted by their success, suc-cess, have opened in their vicinity." About Town: Sightseers viewing activities on the Hudson from the pergola at Inspiration Point an apt name since looking at the broad river riv-er there is indeed an inspiration . . . Two little tugs shepherding a long line of barges which, heavily loaded with gravel, silently slip down stream . . . The rumble of trains passing beneath the parkway between Riverside drive and Henry Hudson drive New York's "breadline," "bread-line," so-called because so much food passes over those tracks each day . . . The only lighthouse on Manhattan Island a little red brick beacon tucked away under George Washington bridge on a point, so I've read, where in the old, old days, pirates were hung. Bell Syndicate. WKU Features. |
