The easiest way : $b a story of metropolitan lifeHornblow, Arthur
General
The easiest way : $b a story of metropolitan life
Hornblow, Arthur
Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Mistresses -- Fiction; Women -- Conduct of life -- Fiction
The Rialto, flooded with the warm sunshine of a glorious spring morning,
presented its every-day aspect of leisurely gaiety and business bustle.
The theatrical season was already on the wane; each day Broadway's
pavements in the immediate vicinity of Forty-second Street became more
congested with lean-looking thespians, just in from "the road." The
Rialto--the haven of every disheartened barnstormer, the cradle of
every would-be Hamlet! An important section of the big town's
commercial life, yet a world apart--the world of the theatre, a
shallow, artificial, unreal land, with laws and manners all its own; a
region of lights and tinsel and mock emotions, its people frankly
unmoral and irresponsible as a child, yet ever interesting and not
unlovable; luxury-loving and extravagant, flush to-day, bankrupt
to-morrow; inflated with false pretense and exaggerated self
importance, yet tender-hearted and ingenuous to a fault, and not
without their sphere of usefulness--theirs the mission "to hold, as
'twere, the mirror up to Nature," and in tragedy and comedy, move
mankind to tears and laughter, while upholding the best traditions of a
noble art.
Sweeping northwards from Herald Square as far as Forty-seventh Street,
the Rialto, on this particular morning, did full credit to the famous
public mart in Venice, from which it took its picturesque name. Here in
the heart of theatredom was the players' curb market, the theatrical
rendezvous of the metropolis, where the mummer comes both to talk shop
with his fellow actor, and seek a new engagement. On every side
luxurious theatres reared their stately facades, box-offices open for
business invited all to enter, obstreperous ticket speculators jostled
passersby in their eagerness to sell their seats. Street hoardings, ash
barrels and sandwich men were plastered with flamboyant multi-colored
show bills. The play, and nothing but the play was certainly the thing;
the hapless stranger was buffetted in a maelstrom of theatrical
activity. The very air reeked of calcium and grease paint.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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