Clad in two sweaters, a woolen coat and a flamboyantly flowing scarf, Mrs. Mary Kearns was making her customary grand entrance on New York City's Great White Way. Dreamily murmuring about the Queen of England and other famous folks whom she had never known, she settled her diminutive form on one of the concrete flower boxes on an island in the middle of Times Square. Oblivious to the shouts and screeches of one of the world's busiest intersections, she did not notice the gang of young toughs approaching her. Then one of...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
