The New Movie Magazine (Jan-Sep 1935)

$10 Is a Lot of Money (Continued from page 6) the other bus passengers were not made up of autograph fiends. It was a little after eight o'clock and the dark-eyed brunette behind the ticket window took $1.98 of our precious hoard. We chattered through the show, not permitting the woman in front or ourselves to get a very good idea of just what Mr. Arliss was doing as "The Iron Duke." We discussed where we would go next and I said, "What happens if we run out of money? Do I dig in the other pocket and call the experiment a failure?" This Carole vetoed with no uncertainty in her voice, saying. "No, we've just got to do this evening on $10. If we run out of money, you'll have to borrow from a policeman or somebody." And the tone of her voice proved there was no appeal. It was $10 or borrow! Leaving the Rockefeller showplace. we climbed a long flight of stairs to the Sixth Avenue Elevated, and soon were banging and bumping down to Greenwich Village on the aged railroad. Near the Eighth Street station is a typical Village place called The Barn. ""Do you like rough-hewn timber, waiters in oldfashioned redshirt fireman uniforms and electrified milk cans for lighting?" I asked Carole. "I've never seen them all in one place." she replied, '"but if the music is good and we can afford it. I'm all for it." "All right, then, here we are." I said, and we half-skipped down a flight of stairs into the second stop on our "Round New York on $10"' tour. I had inadvertently told my four doubting Thomases that I would go to The Barn. And there they were, faces wreathed in smiles, apparently looking forward to meeting the blond star. Being a mean fellow. I succeeded in over-looking them completely until Carole said. 'Those four boys at the floor-table — the way they're looking our way I'm a bit afraid they will be starting an autograph stampede any minute. And just when I thought I'd have fun and not be noticed." "Those are only my four conspirators," I assured her. "and if you want to do me a favor, don't even look their way. I'm having too much fun to add any competition in the way of unattached males. And anyway, I want to dance."' And dance we did. until the Barn's country night club floor show got under way. Then we munched on chicken sandwiches, and drank old-fashioned egg noggs. with coffee for a chaser. Carole leaned across the table and said in worried tones. "Have you got enough to pay the bill?" And I beamed as the waiter relieved me of only $3.95, including tip. AS we were leaving, the proprietor, ■*■•*■ Mr. Horowitz, insisted that we paint something on the old Barn wall, a quaint custom of this joy stable. Carole agreed, and taking the moth-eaten paint brush slapped up our names and under that. "$10 Is a Lot of Money." We walked around the corner and then under the arch in historic old Washington Square. There, under the glow of a street light. I pulled out our somewhat diminished capital and said '"Here's what's left." Ignoring my remark a bit. Carole said. '"And where to now?" "Will you leave the entertainment in my hands?" I asked, ushering her at that moment on to an uptown Fifth Avenue bus. ""Yes." said Carole, "if the rest of your program is as good as what has gone before." I agreed and cautioned her to be patient. With a bit of sight-seeing bus dialogue, such as "Look down the street and you can see Union Square" and "That's the Empire State Building." we were soon up to 59th Street, and as we hopped off the bus in front of the Plaza Hotel, at the entrance to Central Park. it was just 11:45. Escorting Carole across the square, we stopped at the hansom cab stand, and the cabbies, whom I knew to start at a high fare and then bargain with their prospects, all perked up at the sight of a potential customer. I picked out a likely-looking old fellow who eyed us carefully and said. "I was that way once myself, young man, and excuse me if I say its a pretty girl you have with you. I'll be taking you around the park for whatever you can afford to pay." With fortune smiling upon us. up we climbed into the high, two-wheeled, oldfashioned vehicle and soon were spinning along at a smart pace. A half a mile or so into the park the cabbie yelled "Whoa" and we pulled up short. Then opening the trap-door in the roof of the cab, he looked down in and said to Carole. "'Miss, some day when you're rich you ought to go over there. " He pointed across the park to the Central Park Casino, where muffled music was rhythmically beating. The cabbie continued. "This is the place where all the society people and movie stars come to dance. You'd like it. I'll bet. but it costs an awful lot of money." Then with a perfunctory "Giddap. Betsy." he lapsed into silence and we moved on again. At the "Tavern-on-the-Green." a cityrun restaurant for '"Just Folks." I called a halt and we hopped down and ran in to the bar for a pleasantly warming hot toddy. Carole with her kind heart said. "Let's bring the cabbie a mug of ale. and don't look — .'' With this last I saw her take the sugar bowl from the table and practically empty all the lumps into her purse. "What's the big idea?" I demanded. '"You haven't forgotten Betsy so soon, have you?" she returned. I admitted I had, for the moment, and then we left the place where the kind of people go who spend a whole evening on S10. Needless to say. the cabbie liked his ale but not half so much as Betsy, who seemed quite flustered by the sugary attention from Carole. With a neigh of approval, Betsy was on her way and it seemed no time until we were back at the cab stand. The cabbie looked down at us from his seat and I passed him $1.95. He appeared quite appreciative and said. "Where to now?" Carole started to say "the Waldorf" but I interrupted and said, "To Lexington Avenue and 50th Street." which incidentally is one of the entrances to the Waldorf. The old man. somehow sensing that my purse was badly diminished, said. "I know that subway station and. because you're so kind. I will drive you over there free." A few minutes later we said our thanks and good-bye to our most agreeable host, and as soon as the sound of Betsy's hoofs was out of hearing we ducked into the hotel lobby. I sighed with relief. Carole looked questioningly at me and I explained. "It's darn lucky that old fellow brought us over here free. The buses have stopped now and we might have had to walk the mile home. If he hadn't brought us I hate to think where I would have had to go at 1:30 in the morning to borrow taxi fare." (Please turn to page 58) 0\ ^v^ Insure a good digestion with BEEMAN'S It's a wise policy A grand flavor . . . so smooth ... so satisfying so completely delicious eeman's urn The New Movie Magazine, July, 1935 57