Oh let’s do!
People who were looking for a big sign that said Starting Point would be disappointed or confused. They drew that in. It’s the Paramount building.
The movie is the 1952 flick “A Girl in Every Port,” and Gene Krupa will be there in person:
Mysterious, exciting Chinatown:
You will go in and out of different buildings!
One Doyer is a noodle shop now.
Oh how interesting - the Great White Way, and a Chinese Temple!
Brought to you by the Hip-Sing Association.
The what?
Er -
The Hip Sing Association or HSA is a Chinese-American criminal organization/gang formed as a labor organization in New York City's Chinatown during the early 20th century (perhaps c. 1904). The Cantonese name "Hip Sing” translates roughly to "cooperating for success." The Hip Sing Tong, along with their rivals the Four Brothers and the On Leong Tong, would be involved in violent Tong wars for control of Chinatown during the early 1900s.
It's empty now, but for a while, you could have strangers knead your aching dogs:
There’s also a trip to Coney Island, which says “40 minute bus trip.” Three bucks round trip.
You’ll have ample time to stroll the boardwalk, but you’d better make it back to the bus in time or you’re on your own.
Later, you can buzz the Statue of Liberty, it seems.
Or, you can experience what it’s like to be in Manhattan while drunk, or suffering from vertigo:
Stop in for gewgaws:
 |
|
|
 |
|
The missus or the owner, having a smoke.
I'll bet she had stories. |
|
|
|
Well it’s entirely possible that Mr. Gough arranged for this placement, and this wasn’t done of out of the tour company’s sense of charity:
From a 1984 NYT piece:
T’was the custom years ago for funeral processions to make a brief stop on the way to the cemetery at a place close to the heart of
the deceased - a bar, say, a firehouse or a club. Mostly it was a bar. And it may still be the custom in some parts of the city, though not in Times Square and not at Gough's Chop House on West 43d Street. Even so, as regulars at Gough's will tell you, the 90-year-old retired longshoreman they called ''Fast Harry'' was never an ordinary man in life so why should he be any different in death?
Henry (Fast Harry) Zeller's dying wish, they say, was to make a final stop at the bar where he had spent a good part of the last 30 years, drinking coffee in the morning and beer after that. Accordingly, shortly after noon the other day, somebody at Gough's turned off the television and somebody else pushed aside the faded, flowered curtains, and the patrons rose from their stools and went to the window with the neon signs that say Schaefer and Schmidt’s.
The owner was Buddy Gough, although four years later there’s a Buddy Coen co-owning it with Marty Gough. The 1988 NYT piece is a eulogy for the saloon, which notes “That memorable day a bartender irked Jane Fonda by asking her to pass on greetings to Ho Chi Minh.” It was a newspaper bar. The likes of which are gone from the city.
What I wouldn't give to go back to the heyday and visit.
Ah, Lou Walter’s Latin Quarter. We’ve discussed this before, I think.
You might know his daughter. Baba Wawa. Really! The original family name: Warmwater. Well, Waremwasser.
Hungry? Why not stop in at our old friend . . .
From my own site on Times Square:
Great piece about the place at Eater, here.
Finally, where you might stay!
A damned narrow one, too.
The banner at the top is AI, of course. Let's look at the rejects.
New York, Times Square, tour bus. It's heading to Little Armenia:
Again, it's the cast of "They Live"
After you're done shopping at JMarek Verar and Wabxns, queue for the next leg of the trip:
They are the damned:
Let's go to Chinatown, for something interesting:
I saw the sign . . .
|
|
|
 |
|
. . . and I wondered. Run it through the MacOS translation program built in to the desktop quick-look feature, and . . . |
|
|
|
Huh.
This week we'll follow another case that filled the papers in the Twenties. This time it's . . .
01.30.28
The story is still given oxygen by the News, with space on page 3.
The house is shown. It still exists.
Interior shots, here. It goes for $12 mil today. That's where Mr. and Mrs. Smith paced and worried, in despair.
The father is described as having aged noticeably in the last two weeks, and the mother is in a state of utter collapse. No new KLEWS. Still working on the murder or abduction theories.
But the story fades. Not much in February. Nothing in March.
Until the end of the month.
Wikipedia:
A year later on March 29, 1929, two men fishing 20 miles away in a small boat on the Connecticut River near Longmeadow, Massachusetts, pulled up a female body.
Based on the female's height (5'5" to 5'6") and bulging forehead, police initially identified the body as Smith, however, the girl's parents discredited the identification of the corpse. A friend from Smith College confirmed that Smith wore a silver retainer to straighten her teeth like the one authorities found in the mouth of the body. The band extended from the eye teeth on the lower jaw.[5] Smith's dentist was able to provide her dental fittings that aligned with the corpse.
The girl's parents never accepted the body as Frances, but did concede to bury the girl's body in Wildwood Cemetery, Amherst, Massachusetts.
True Detective did an exhaustive account of the case, with the participation of Foote and Daly, the investigators.
Easily confused, self-conscious and extremely sensitive about the ordinary things that make up life, this girl, said to be worth several millions of dollars in her own name, was content to live in a dreamland of mystic fancies, a world brought into being by love of music in the soul of a girl that held nothing but beautiful thoughts in which no stirrings of adolescent desires consciously intermingled.
There is, of course, one thing they never discovered, one thing we'll never know.
Why?
That'll do! See you Monday, with something of a surprise.
|
