Life — May 17, 1928 — page 18: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ALONG Dear Pac Witarp: By the time this reaches you the Messrs. Fitzmaurice, Kochl and Huene- feld will have taken their departures from the town that the rest of America wastes a lot of time hating. The sidewalk comedians, I hope, will have grown weary of suggesting that they rename it “Andy Coheny Island” and the flicker version of “Abie’s Irish Rose’ will have started on a career as interminable as a few remarks by Ouo H. Kahn. But Broadway still will be Broadway, for which thank Heaven, and_ please don’t go to sleep on me just because I like it. I think I get a big kick out of Broadway (and not where you think, cither) because I've wised up to it, Wil- lard. Oh, I can be had, I suppose, but I've discovered that it has its unwritten laws, like any other community, and I’m acting accordingly. I know better, for instance, than to flirt with the other fellow’s girl in this maipmr4 be t MAIN STEM town. I no longer “cut in” on dancing couples in the night clubs because viola- tors of this cthic are liable to “come to” out in an alley. To keep from having a “Mickey Finn” put in your drink, you simply refrain from sassing head waiters or making yourself objectionable and you never squawk or complain about the couvert charge or the amount of your check. In brief, Willard, you mind your own business, and when you are fed up with Broadway's rebuffs and rebukes you simply go stand in a corner, and have a good cry. That's the only satisfaction you can get out of it, at any rate. But I've found myself a new diversion just around the cor- ner from the Blaz- ing Bulb Belt. It’s over at the Night Court on 54th Street, west of Eighth Av- enue. This is the court that disposes of all the cases which break after hours and the best night to frequent it is Saturday about 9 p. mM. until 12, Here you find all the drama, tragedy, burlesque and com- edy you can stand at one sitting, and “I simply adore the way he dominates his piano!” the only tariff is that you remove your hat aad keep absolutely quiet. If Judge Brodsky is on the bench there is fun, no end. A very fair magistrate he is, Willard, but his sense of humor js priceless and he is quite a kidder. Lots of the lads and their lassies are frequent ing it instead of some of the third-rate Broadway shows. I heard this startling story from a court attaché last night, Willard. True or not, it is interesting, I think. A propositiog was made to an independent film pro ducer by a destitute youth who offered to drown himself in the studio's pool for the sum of fifty dollars—the sum to be sent to his mother. The would-be suicide argued that the picture would be a knockout and even suggested that a slow. motion of his drowning be filmed. He guaranteed the death wallop, pointing out that he couldn't swim a stroke. And just as the deal was about to be consum mated, it was spurned by the producer because an employee warned him that he could be held on a charge of murder. There's drama, no? Damon Runyon, the sports scrivener, slayed some of us when he looked at a newspaper photo of Peaches Browning and her mother, and then started to sing: “Put them all together, they spell hefty!” It might interest you to know that the lovely Sylvia Sydney, the actress, is being adored here and there, Frances Shelley, whose voice is as delicate as an orchid and as interpretative as a prayer, is enticing trade up at the Club Rich man. “The Nest,” in Harlem, a black and-tan outfit, is hotter than ever. The current tune favorites include “Rain” and “There Must Be Somebody Else.” And for laughs and a ditty to which you can manufacture your own choruses, uy “There Ought to Be a Law Against That.” Walter Winchell. A DISTINCTION Aw old Negro woman in attendance upoa the Monday morning Police Court was slumped in her chair, her head resting dejectedly upon one hand. “Well, Mammy,” suggested a com passionate lawyer, observing her, “have you been fighting again?” “No, sah,” promptly came her indig- nant denial. “No, sah, I ain’t been fight in’. I been fit.” ——————————— Srrancer: Is that your new publ school over there? Citizen: Yes, that is our Chamber of Commas. comicbooks.com Th