A Day on the Town . . .

The distinguished looking bon vivant pictured here and on ensuing pages grew tired yesterday of the sedentary life middle-age had pressed upon him, and decided to go out on the town to see if he could find a chicken or two to go stepping with. If life begins at 40, said the gay old bird, why not at 41. So down he came, into the city of sin he had watched over for so long, to get a closer view.

But first a concession to sartorial splendor. That stubble had to go. And he wasn't the bald-headed eagle. A little slickum, a little polish, smooth out a few of those wrinkles, he'd been letting himself get seedy lately. Look old, feel old. Now to get rid of that . . . . . . pot belly. There must be something to do about that. Some steam and a quick rubdown. Not too much; there was a beautiful day to be lived outside.

Now for a hurried lunch at Joe and Nemo's. Pumpkin seeds have been hard to come by. These times of scarcity. Perhaps some pumpkin pie, instead. Never knew anyone used the rest of the pumpkin. Compliments of the house, sir. Fine day? Yes, yes, indeed. One cup of coffee and then out into the whirl of life and excitement on the streets of the city.

Sun shining, people smiling--wait. Maybe he can find a pigeon in here. Best place to look would be in that pigeon-hole over there by the wall. Mmmmmm. Disappointing. Not his type. Tall feathers nice, though.

Are Movies really better than ever? Well, that all depends on how you look at them. Frankly though, for a serious mind, the movies will never equal the thrill and glamour of the theatre, the legitimate stage.

About time to go over and have a word with Henry. Henry called him last night--wanted to know his ideas on the "Point of No Return."