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Show Lights of NewYork By L. L. STEVENSON Fate: Since he does not care to have his name known, he may as well be identified as Smith. Ten years ago, a Chicago doctor in the course of a physical checkup informed in-formed Smith that quite possibly he would not Live more than five years. Smith left the office stunned but, recovering, decided that having such a short time left, he might as well get the most out of his remaining remain-ing days. So he gave up his insurance insur-ance business and came to New York to study piano. In the course of time, he became proficient enough to play in an amateur orchestra which was all he wanted. He also re-established himself in business and is now in comfortable circumstances. circum-stances. As a matter of fact, he might have forgotten the dire prediction pre-diction entirely if he hadn't encountered encoun-tered a Chicago friend recently. The friend informed him that the doctor had died within a few weeks of the time he had set for Smith's death. Encroachment: Male sanctuaries have become fewer and fewer. For some time, women have had possession posses-sion of barbershops. Recently, the University club, after years of stolid male dignity, let down the bars and held a dinner dance and the walls echoed with feminine laughter. Then the sedate Union club gave way with a reception and tea to which each member was allowed to take two women guests. Now the New York Athletic club has bowed to the feminine influence. Up to two years ago, women were not permitted to pass the portals except on very special spe-cial occasions. Then the dining room was opened to them Saturday , and Sunday evenings. Finally that restriction was removed. And as if that were not enough, what was once a broker's office has been turned into a cocktail room for women. Past Tense: Eugene O'Neill was a gold prospector in Honduras . . . Jimmy Dorsey swung a pickaxe in a Shenandoah, Pa., coal mine before he began swinging the blues . . . Harry Salter was an Oklahoma oil-well oil-well digger . . . Carol Bruce was a lingerie salesgirl . . . Ethel Merman Mer-man was a stenographer and still keeps a notebook handy . . . Margie Hart, strip teaser, was a milkmaid on a Missouri farm . . . Ruby Foo, who now owns a string of Chinese restaurants, was once a dishwasher in a Chicago hospital . . . Erskine Caldwell, who wrote that long-lived "Tobacco Road," was a stage hand in a burlesque theater . . . Henny Youngman was a job printer in Brooklyn . . . Donu Edmond, society so-ciety beautician, was a tourist guide in Cairo, Egypt . . . Ben Hecht was a handy man with a midwestern circus . . . Lucile Manners was a ' private secretary . . . and I used to sell Columbus and Cincinnati papers on the streets of Kenton, Ohio. Switch: Over in Jersey, there is a roadhouse patronized largely by Germans. The other evening, two of this department's scouts, M. A. and S. S., dropped in just to see what was going on. It was a quiet night with family parties sitting around sedately eating and drinking. Just to see what would happen, M. A. went up to the orchestra leader and asked him to play the "Horst Wessel" song. The reply was that that couldn't be done. So M. A. asked him if he could play "La Marseillaise." Mar-seillaise." Without delay, the or-. or-. chestra swung into the French na-. na-. tional anthem and all the Germans present stood up and sang it lustily. Macabre: He is a big speed cop who patrols the Boston Post road in l the vicinity of Marmaroneck. Many I motorists know him and speak to i him when they pass or when they ' happen to be stopped by a Light be- side where he has taken a stand. I He's always smiling and affable ex- cept of course when there has been ; some infraction of the law. Then, ': despite the salutations of the past, ! there is a ticket or an arrest. Even that he makes as painless as possible. pos-sible. So his hobby may come somewhat some-what as a shock to many of his acquaintances. ac-quaintances. He never misses an execution at Sing Sing. The night ' one or more condemned men have to sit in the electric chair, he so arranges his tour of duty that he may proceed on up to Ossining and be a witness. . End Piece: Pretty, dainty, she is one of the season's most charming debs. Recently, a hostess who had arranged a dinner in her honor, asked her how she enjoyed being a debutante. The girl replied that it was fine; that she liked the attention shoivn her and the dances There was" just one drawback at every dinner, she had to eat chicken, green peas and ice cream. The hostess reddened a bit, and as you may have guessed, a little later the deb sat down to a dinner of chicken, j green peas and ice cream. |