It is high noon. On the 42nd Street sidewalk outside Bryant Park two street musicians, both senior citizens, are plonking out "golden oldies" on electric guitar and zither. A few steps farther on a middle-aged black man sits on a wire wastepaper basket clutching a tattered Reader's Digest. He greets all passers-by with a cheery "Auf Wiedersehen!" But as Bryant Park comes to an end voices begin to hiss. "Wanna smoke, wanna smoke?" —twice, three, four times before a resolute reader reaches the top of the library steps and walks the hundred or...
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