Moving northward from Manhattan's Times Square through the garish canyon of Seventh Avenue, the traveler finds a varied evening cacophony. Bus engines whine. Subway trains roar through sidewalk gratings. On a corner a Salvation Army band pleads Onward! Christian Soldiers. Suddenly, through an open door, comes a shattering crash and a high-pitched wail, and a competing hymn bounces through the tortured air: When the Saints Go Marching In.
Passers-by stop under a glittering Gold Coast marquee that spells out "Metropole Cafe," peer into the gloom to see where all the noise is coming...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
