On the first floor of Manhattan's dingy West Side Court, busiest in the city, is a dungeon-like room with high dirty windows. A long table, two incredibly battered desks, a telephone booth and a chipped enamel cuspidor make up its office equipment. Around the walls are photographs of unidentified prizefighters and film actresses, a framed obituary of Variety's late Slangster Jack Conway, a yellowed clipping of a newspaper sermon entitled "Success," a picture of a nude dancer with a large ostrich-plume fan, inscribed: ''To the reporters of West Side Court, gratefully and...
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