For over half a century Cain's Transfer Co., Inc. has hauled scenery from darkened Manhattan theatres to its maw of a warehouse. For almost as long, "Gone to Cain's" has been a brutal euphemism for a flop. Last week the famous graveyard was itself interred.
Founded by John Cain, a onetime policeman, the business expired under his son, quiet, broken-nosed, gold-toothed Patrick Joseph ("Patsy"; Cain. At the height of its run, Cain's was five floors deep in trellises and pillars, spangles and swords, chariot wheels from Ben Hur, a papier-mache elephant from Face the Music,...
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