Broadway: A Play

Broadway: A Play

Broadway: A Play

Broadway: A Play

Excerpt

ROY LANE, song and dance man, specialty hoofer of the roseate Paradise night club, roaring forties, rolled over in his narrow bed in his room at the N. V. A. (National Vaudeville Association) as the wall phone began to ring. Outside, that constant murmur, an undercurrent of throbbing sound like a river at flood, which is the voice of Broadway, was never still for a moment.

Roy leaped out of bed and went to the phone, wavering a little, still in the clutches of sleep. "Yeah, Agnes," he said thickly, to the girl at the switch-board downstairs, "this is himself talkin'. Yeah. Who? Oh, the Maloney boys! Sure. Yeah, send' em right up, will you?"

Yawning, Lane hung up the receiver and stood there for a moment in his loud, blue-striped pajamas, an ungainly, loose-jointed figure with the stooped shoulders of a variety dancer. He ran his hands through his tousled blond hair that at night was sleeker than wet asphalt under its dressing of stacomb, and stretched his lank body, raising his arms over his head.

"What's to-day?" he asked himself mentally, his brain still clouded with the sleep from which he had . . .

Search by... Author
Show... All Results Primary Sources Peer-reviewed

Oops!

An unknown error has occurred. Please click the button below to reload the page. If the problem persists, please try again in a little while.