The San Francisco call. [volume], July 05, 1908, Page 4, Image 4

About The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913

Image provided by: University of California, Riverside; Riverside, CA

                
A "PARAZZA" HUNT OF THE FILLMORE STREET
LINE
W. L. Clanahan
» | O use o* talkin', cull," he
* • J\ I said, dropping wearily into
9 \| th© only vacant chair, "San
. Fran's a slow burg."
"Sor
"Yes. dead rflow. Whrn a guy can't
get any drink he calls for out here It's
time t* quit bUywin* about all your won
derful Improvements and all the swell
joints you've put up since the fire an'
go to raisin* turnips or guinea pigs.
I may look lQte a farmer myself, an" I
don't mind confessin' that I've bought
a few gold l*rlcks In my time, as well
as peddled a, few, but I'm here t' tell
you one thing, an' that is that little
old K. C, Mizzoo, where I'm on the
job when I'm at home, has got this
village skinned 40 ways for the buck
when It conves to ladlin' out the liquid
refreshments with all the artistic
trimrain's des.nanded by a gent who had
blowed around the western hemisphere
as much as y'r Uncle Dudley has." ..
"What's tfhe kick?*
"Well, old pal, it's Just like this:
You see, I chucks the Job In K. C. and
hikes for th* Golden gate, being touted
along by a big pitcher book describin'
all the woafiers and glories of climate
of California, and hangs up at Emery
ville a few weeks t' see If I can grab
off a few honest dollars from the book
makers ov«r there, an' one night, I
floats across the bay to San Fran*.
Havln* dodged the lemon tree an* shook
down a tins' bit of a •wad that day, I
says f myse»'.f, "Shorty, old boy, it's up f
you V go over an' see if there's any
thing In San Fran" worth lookin' at.' An'
right there is where my trouble com
mences."
"What trouble?"
"My hunt for a pazaza."
"X pazaza.?"
"Yes, a paoaza. Are you one o' them
ehort tportß. too, that don't know what
a pazaza is? But I see you are. Well,
kid, let me put you wise. I might a'
been a happy man t'day if I'd a* been
content to -mop up beer or take my
booze straight. But, no; I has the coin
an' co I has to get eizzy In the nut
an' co out lookin' for eomethin' with
laca trlmmtßfs on It an' filigree work
around the edges, an' there's where I
get* Etung \u25a0worse 'n a red bull in a
paster by a branch of hornets.
"I blows liito a ttrnzlne parlor on
Flllmoro Btreet an' wigwags to the
boy with the white apron.
" "Gimme a pazaza,' I eaye, flingin' one
o f them big Ba-yan dollars down on the
bar carelessly, just like that.
"He leans away over an' cocks up
his left ear like a rooster when his
hard workin* -wife makes a noise like
a worm.
"*A what?' he says.
"'A pazaza/ never dreamin' but
what he'd fall for It.
"• 'A pazaza, — a what?" "
" 'A pazaza.*
"Well, say. pal, I hope my mother's
black cat '11 ha\-e the hydrophoby If
he didn't get mad about It!
"'Say, loofty here!' he hollers. 'Don't
try to put nothin' like that over on
me! If it's a drink you want, we
c'n give you anything you're a lookin'
for on Fillmore street, but don't come
around here tryln* t' spring no foolish
gags on a man who knows his busi
ness.'
""I Just stands an' looks at the guy
a minute, perfectly befuzzled.
AN ALL-NIGHT PROWL IN A CITY THAT NEVER SLEEPS
Gibson Adams
£> AN FRANCISCO Is the great
• • est all night town on earth;
J the place where they never
go to bed." This expression
I had heard so many times that I de
cided to .see for myself; so I chose a
fine, promising Saturday night and set
out bent upon adventure, ready for any-
Jhlng and determined to remain out
till the sun looked once more over tha
Berkeley hills.
By 8 o'clock I had enjoyed one of
those Italian dinners, so good and bo
cheap in the Latin quarter, and, forti
fied with "dago red," raviolis and zam
balllon, was out on rich, aristocratic
Van Ness avenue, studying the towns
people at their pastimes.
Dozens of autos were speeding down
the great, wide way and the broad side
walks were thronged with gayly dressed
men and women. Many were hurrying
to the theaters, and after their half
hour the crowds were thinner and more
leisurely, for they were out to see each
" 'Pal,' I says, 'I don't want t' rub
it in, but the fact Is I've Just hit the
grit in this town from Salt Lake City,
where I went swimmin' in the big
pond an* got some to*t o* the salt water
down my pipes, an' I'm horrible dry.
Now, if you cd Just -mix me up a nice,
juicy pazaza.'
" 'Aw, chop It!' he says, lookin' like
be was goin' f do a double handspring
over the bar. 'Here's your drink —
straight rye. Fifteen cents. Good
night. Call again.'
"So I licks up the booze and beats it
to the sidewalk. Then I blows into
a dump at Geary street.
" 'Gimme a pazaza,' I says.
" 'A pazaz — a what?"
"'A pazaza.'
"Well, I gets a run for my money
there, anyway. The scholarly bun
builder ta*xes a long glass, searches
the place over for a piece of Ice and
fin'ly digs up one about the size of a
hlck'ry nut. He puts this carefully In
the bottom o' the glass, pours in a lit
tle water, then some glucose an* com
mences f fiddle with a long spoon.
Then, like the two voiced guinea
who could sing a little tenor an* also
pipe a little bass, he reaches up on the
back bar for a tall bottle with a squirt
on it and down under the front bar
for a big bottle o' booze, an' he gives
first a squirt with one hand Into the
glass an' then a dash into it with the
others' faces and clothes and the pretty
displays in the windows. - Every one on
the avenue appeared either to, have
money or to be out after it. Here was
the rickety, prancing old dandy in silk
hat and dove colored gloves, with his
pretty, bejeweled young wife clinging
to his arm; there, another old man,
blind and in rags, coaxing pitiful little
squeaks out of his dilapidated accor
dion. Here was the fresh young man
against the lamp post, chewing.a cigar,
rattling his dollars and ogling ladies
with enormous hats and diminutive
waists; there, below, another young
man, legless and hungry, holding up
pencils and money -cup to the passers
by. Here was a fat. racetrack man in
loud plaid and diamonds, laughing and
shouting to his companion for the
entertainment of the public; there, the
shifty eyed, .nervous, whispering ped
dler of Chinese lottery tickets. Here
was a smart young lady In velvet, es
corted by a huge, self-conscious St.
Bernard on a leash, and buying a bou
quet of violets from, the vender on the
corner; there, a pretty, slim Salvation
other hand, an' then he fiddles some
more with the long spoon. *In an
absent minded sort o' way he squirts
three or four different kinds o' bitters
in the glass and sets it on the bar.
Then he strains it off into another
glass, twists a piece of lemon peel in.
It, drops a cherry in the bottom, tops
it off with a slice o' orange an' a
spring o' mint an' sets It out with the
air of an artist who has just put the
fllnlshln' touches on a prize palntln"
f'r J. Plerpont Morgan.
"'There you are,' he says, with a
lordly wave of his mitt.
" 'What in the name of Abe Ruef
and Eugene Schmitz. do you call that
thingr I says. ' A New England boiled
dinner?*
. "Honest, pal, that booze clerk looked
positively, hurt. ,
" 'That,' he says,* 'is a pazaza.'
"'That,' I says, right back, mockin'
him, 'is not a pazaza. It looks more
like a kerosene highball or- a benzine
toddy.' • .
" 'Well, anyway,' he says, lookin' kind
o' ominous, 'that's what the doctor
ordered in your case, and if you don't
like it you'd better beat it for the
door. Two bits, please.' "
"Well, I licks it up, and it ain't so
bad, but I'm simply yearnin' for a
good old pazaza like they build back
in K. C. Mizzoo, you see, so it, fails to,
hit the • spot, an* I leaves the dump
with my tongue hangin* out an' a hor
rible disgust on.
"Then I drifts; into another bun fac
tory on Ellis street an' again I calls
for me favorite swill.
"'Well, whaddo you know ajjput
that, Spike?' yells .the barkeep to a
friend o' his down at the other end o'
the bar. 'Here's a man callin* for a
pazaza. ' Ever hear of one?
'"Nix for the pazaz, as far as, I'm
concerned,' says Spike. 'What's it
like?'
" 'Search me,' says the barkeep. 'Put
me wise, pal,' he says, throwing his
lamps on me.
"I was feelin' .a little chesty after
them other two I'd had* an' swells' up
a Tjlt.
" 'Ex-cuse me,' I orates. "I come into
this dump to corral a bit o' nourish
ment—not f establish a night school
in boozeology.' And I turns on "me heel
an* floats out into the glamor o* the
night.
"A little down the street I pipes
another emporium an' skates across the
•welcome* sign 1 - an" rounds up at the
mahogany.
"'Bo,' I says, 'I wish you'd be kind
enough to build me a pazaza. Have it
nice and cold and Juicy and — '
" 'A what?'
"'A pazaza,' I says, comin' again,
as polite as a usher at a church wed
din'.
"Well, sir, that booze clerk fidgets
around behind the counter an 1 looks as
uneasy as a girl about to recite a piece
at school on a Friday afternoon. He
gazes at me sort o' pitiful, like a guy
in police court hopin' the caliph'll let
him off light, an' says, 'Jack, you've
kind o' got me on that un. Now, I can
make you a nice, juicy Manhattan, a
Sulssesse, a New Orleans flip, a. sherry
cobbler, a swizzle or a — "
" 'Nix,' says I, 'f'r any o' them bum
cordials 1 ! They're all f the merry when
a guy has only got a teency weency
bit of a thirst, but when y'r coppers
Army lassie soliciting aid for her sick
and needy.
In an hour I took the car to Fillmore '
street and up the hill as far as the
last saloon, walking back down the
grade to "do the line" of old Fill
more, the street of the people, and a
droll, overgrown, patchy,- conglomerate
one It is, sprung at the time of the
great fire from a row of suburban
delicatessen and cigar shops .to the
main artery of a great city. It is a
very "midway plaisance." brilliant with
illuminated arches over the : crossings
and the myriad electric signs over re
sorts of amusement , places.
Out of penny arcades and nickelo
deons came a confusion of "canned
music" from phonographs, orchestrelles
and nickel in the slot pianos. In front
of "10 cent theayturs" spielers shouted
the delights of performances -within.
A free magic lantern show beautified
the face of a building with rural "land
scapes and allurements to bargains. in
spring clothing. Up the street came a
pfour horse wagon with a band strident
ly playing "A Hot Time in the Old
Town Tonight" and a sign proclaiming
a grand all night ball out In the Mis
sion. ' „
At Post street was a great crowd,'
as there is every night,- for this cor
ner is the chosen forum of the' street
speakers an # d curbstone orators. Four
constantly shifting audiences were
gathered -about four shouters. The
favorite was a woman explaining with
chart and chalk and figure" of "speech
the mysteries of phrenology. Two
rival" orators were expounding to their
circles two differing schools of so
cialism, the milder one pointing a
thumb of, scorn jto his more violent
neighbor as an "anachrist." A sickly,
pale Yankee, gowned in the most gor
geous embroideries of China, held forth
on the wondrous virtues of his oriental
drugs, the same> being given away; at
half a dollar a bottle. The policeman
went frantic keeping, the auditors out.
side the' curb line. — ", ;V.-
Strains of waltz music lured "me up
stairs to a dance hall— "two bits" ad
mission and no questions asked — where
ladies of divers nationalities graciously
waltzed with me without the formality
of names. . .
Down In the street again, I found my
self in the flood tide of theater goers
who at 11 o'clock pour out of the city's
playhouses, which now crowd the dis
are as hot as mine, what you need t*
chase the' willies an' git y'rself away
f'm 23 Lemon street is a pazaza.'
" "Well," says the doc, 'I've been
dealin' out the oil of Joy an' gladness
an' scatterln' sunshine around this
town fr a good many years, but dog
bite my left hind leg if this ain't the
first time I ever hear tell of a pa
zaza! How do you make it?" , *
"JTswells up as big as a balloon at
a country fair an* looks him over
i scornful.
"'I don't make it,' I says. 'That's
your biz — not mine. You're the lordly,
manufacturer; I'm only a humble con
sumer. Of course, if you don't keep
this particular brand o' goods in this
booze shop, I'll have<f go- elsewhere.'
An', once more I drifts out into the
night sorer than a hornet with a gum
boll, wonderin' where in the land o'
Pat Calhoun an' the board o' super
visors I'm goin' t* connect with that
drink.
"Well, I moseys down to Van Ness
avenue, dodgin* holes in. the sidewalk
like a prize winner doin' the sword
dance at a Scotch picnic,' an' talkin 1 t'
myself all the time.
" 'By the flamln? eyeballs o',. Francis
J. Heney,' says It' myself, 'about; the
only resemblance -I see between this
much touted San Fran* and little old
K. C., Mlzoo, is the hills. This golden*
village with the sunset climate may
be the Paris of. America and all that,
but when it comes to grabbiri" off the
bare necessities of life in liquid form,
gimme the yappy, snappy little town
by ' the Kaw. Oh, sizzle! ff I was
only back in Tom Skidmore's rum pal
ace, where I cd wet my gills with a
few pazazas! By gravy! my. tongue is
trict. At one of the popular and jolly
cafes I joined the company for supper,
and the music.
Out on the. highway again the bril
liant lights of the arches were sud
denly extinguished at midnight, and
most of those who remained out .took
this as a signal to go home to bed.
; An hour or.'so later there began to
pour into the deadened streets from all
sides a steady stream of young boys,
mostly in the late; teens. /. Many came
on bicycles and a goodly number on
coasters. Their faces, serious", gener
ally earnest, sometimes hard,'- wore that
intent -look of business' that- showed
that they were -not out atthis hour, on
pleasure bent. They were gravitating
towards, street corner, where I found
a crowdof their kind waiting for some-;
thing 'and keeping themselves warm by
sham fights, clog dances, acrobatic
stunts, etc. •
Suddenly all became alert, an*d around
the corner swung a big wagon, dumped
a pile , of square; white bundles and
dashed away. A distributor: mounted
the heap, = wildly, swinging his arms to
ward* off \ the frantic, "shouting' boys
who besieged him,>ipped open the bun-*
dies and counted -out portions with In
credible speed.- Seizing t their -loads jin
turn the boys ran off madly in all direc
tions, and in a minute the clear night
- ......
"shriveled up harder than a whip crack
er! I'll just pipe what they've got on
tap in this sanctorum here on the
corner.'
\u25a0 "So In I blows an* says to the, life
. saver behind the bar, 'Pal, I'm dryer
than a trainload o' home seekers cross-
In' the Great American desert on the
Bth of August. I could lick up $100
worth of ambrosia an* never notice it.
I^wisht you'd build me a pazaza in a
hurry, an' make it long an* cold."
"'A what?' he says.
"'A* pazaza,' says I.
"'By gosh, pal,' he says, sort o1o 1
cheerful, 'that name sounds good, all
- right, all right, an' I'd like f accom
modate you, but I'm hornswdggled if
I know what you're talkin' about. I
couldn't. make a pazaza any more than
a hen can spit. Put me wise an* I'll
see if I can cut the riffle for you.'
"I looks across that bar like I'm the
mayor of the Pacific ocean an' takes
a hitch at me belt.
" 'Bo,' I says, 'you look like a good
scout, an' I've no doubt you're livin* up
f the top notch of all you learnt in the
.'Bar Keeper's Friend, but the fact Is
you're dead slow. Come on an' give us
| a sniff at that bottle with the blue label
back yonder, an' lemme give you a tip
that's hotter "than Yuma, Ariz., an'
that's sure some hot. You see, I blows
in here a perflck stranger t' you, an'-. I
get yer goat the first flop out of the
box when I calls f'r pazaza. Now, faon't
I? Surest thing you know! An' any
other gazabo that .butts in here lookin'
.O- liquid nourishment '11 get y'r goat
just the same as I did If he bones you
f'r a pazaz' when you're on the Job. By
the great Seal Rocks of California, if
I was -a good lookin' young Jag pro
moter you I'd rather be in hades
pumpin' thunder at three cents a clap
than t'.haf to stand up here an' own up
that- 1 couldn't build a pazaza! W'y,
when I'm back in K. C, Mizzoo, I drink
'them things as reg'lar as a chicken
goes barefooted an' never think nothin*
of it. Ever' morning when I crawls out
o' the fuzz an' hikes t' me fav'rlte
beanery I orders a mutton chop an'" a
pazaza, an' then calls me dog t' eat the
chop. That's me breakfast, an' a pippin
of a breakfast It Is, too. You c'n bet
your collar button. on that. You ought
t'. try It a whirl.'
"The bo looks at me kind o* puzzled
an' laughs nervous.
" 'Well,' he says, 'if I only knowed
how to build the pazaz' —
" 'Back, back!' I chirps. 'Back t' the
tall an' uncut! You bun builders out
here in San Fran' stand around lookin'
purty an' expectin' gents f pin roses on
y'r frontispieces when you don't know
no more about bar keepln' than Tommy
Burns does about lickln' a real heavy
weight. Why don't you get up to date?
Why don't you learn the fine points of
y'r noble profession of rellevin' human
thirst?'
- "With that he coaxes me down t' th'
fur end o' the bar, so 's he c'n get close
..an' do. the brother act. He lays one
flipper on me shoulder an' loves me up
in a way that's pitiful t' see. - .
"'Ol' pal,' he, says, 'I liked you from
the first minute you stuck your face in
side that door. You look exactly like
a brother o' mine that I ain't seen f r
years, an' who's comin' out f the coa3t
f see me before long. He funs a swell
booze parlor in Omaha, an' I'll swear I
thought you was him when you first
air was ringing with calls of "Sund'
mawning pape," "Gidda pape," "Pape
yeh," "Call, Chron', Igzamna!"
So it was Sunday morning in life
as well as by the clock! It gives a
weird, uncanny feeling to hear that
shouting of the morning's news in the <
dead dark of midnight.
Two o'clock found me at Fillmore
street intersection watching the night
" fleers and prowlers go by. From above
and below, the. half doors of the corner
saloons burst floods of light and within
arose the din of boisterous song and
shout. Across 3 the % street an over
dressed man arid woman halted to
quarrel loudly over the ownership of a
place of money. Two maudlin soldiers
staggered ~ by, exchanging vows of
.eternal love. A shuffling beggar ac
costed me, seeking the price of a bed.
Two young girls passed by and looked
me unabashed and inquiringly in the
eye. - A smooth young gentleman saun
tered along, protesting lonesomeness
and finally, in an offhand, careless man
ner suggested a social game of cards
for small stakes. \u25a0 A burly -policeman
passed on his rounds, trying the locks
of the shop doors along the block.
An allnlght car whizzed down a cross
street and disappeared in Its cloud of
dust. A messenger boy whirled by on
his wheel. A red automobile flew past,
filled with boisterous revelers, drag
ging a big white Teddy bear by -a rope
behind. Two rival milk wagons raced
up the street, clattering loudly over the
cobble stones of basalt. A fat French
bakery wagon lazily followed, stopping
here and there to- leave a savory un
wrapped loaf on a customer's doorstep!'
The all night enchilada man came along*
with his deep,' rich basso call of "Red
hot! Red hot! , Red hot, and only a
dime!" <
. Such is life on Fillraore street, old,
tough, live, delightful disreputable,
bohemian, fascinating Fillmore street.
"Will it pass, I v w,onder, when the old
"downtown" -is occupied again?
Half an hour's ride landed me on the
mad, merry, hilarious "Barbary coast.' 1 *
.Here on Pacific "street, globe trotters
say, Is the greatest collection of tough
dance halls on the planet. The resorts
fill several blocks. The negroes.
s enjoy a number of their own, somewhat
patronized by welcome whites. This Is
the mecca of the sailors;- this is the
.haven of many a midocean desire ; this
is the, hole where the money is dropped.
. But the "jackies" have , no • monopoly
of the ; region/ . For this night there
were mingling together actor, drum
mer, musician, gambler, stevedore, art
student, young ! millionaire,} soldier,
crook and adventurer, fraternizing
without reserve; and exchanging to-
Bacco, matches and^ comments on- the
women. ;. The air'Jn the dancehalls
was blue. ;. and/;- thick~ with .smoke, the
sawdust under the tables was saturated "
with beer, and on the open floor the
breezes in. By granny, it does me good
f see you, just on general principles.
What'll you have f drink? Can you
stand a bit o* the real fizz water? I've
got a few quarts stashed away "here
that's been caressin* the loe.ever since
yesterday afternoon. Well, happy days!
" 'V* know* he- gurgles right in my
left ear. 'I always did like t* meet a
guy that knows more'n me. I'm al
ways wlllin' t' learn, in fact I'm al
ways the little Willie Brlghteyes rub
berin' an" nosln* around fr information.
It's a regular bug with me. I'm plum
sizzy and dotty when it comes t'" mop
pin" up knowledge — specially if it's got
anything with the booze game. A
guinea can't expect t* be a bright an*
shfnin' light in my profession unless
he's right up t' the minute, an* then
some. He's always * gotta be on the
up an* up. He's not only gotta give the
public what it wants, but he's gotta
make it want things it never heard of.
Now, if I could only build a pazaz'
\u25a0 " 'Nix, ol' pal,' I warbles, 'nix! In
formation is a corkin" good thing f
have on tap, but that pazaz' business is
a nifty little secret of me own, an*. l'd
no more think 6* glvin' that away free',
gratis, fr nothin' than I would o' start
in' t' Sunday school in a airship."
" 'But if you cd only sort o' gimme
a hint — '
."'Ferget it!' I cheeps. 'Ferget it!
Little old K. C, Mizzoo, may be slow,
but she can learn this town a lot. but
she ain't runnin' no charity bazaar, at
that.'
"Well, sir, 80, I rallies around that
dump till it's almost time fr the milk
man t' come bowlin' along with his can
o" formaldehyde, an' we licks up the
fizz till I'm so full o' bubbles I feel
as light as a gas house, anlall the time
this booze clerk 1 is hangin' on me neck
dancers reeled and swung to insistent
music, while along the edges gum
chewing girls under exaggerated pomp
The San Francisco Sunday CalL
an' weepin' on me left shoulder b*ada
Se-gTn' me f let htm in on the secret
o' the pazaz'. but never a peep he sets.
Finally I leaves there. -an' I'm walKta'
cr£>keder than the road «J
Tamalpais. an' rollin' and heavtn like
the breakers lashin' agin the Golden
gate but never fr a minute does I get
Sooiy enough f yield- up that precious
bunch of information." c*, nr tv
The audience of one looked at Shorty
with no small degree °*Jaterest£
"What 13 a pazzazza?" he asked
-Back, back, there. Bo!" shouted
Shorty "You want f get the recipe so
• 9 you' c'n print it an" put the whole
town wise, don't you? Well, 'raus mit
n™ A pazaza is . .will that makes
a chamoagne cocktail look like a
nickers worth of tripe. Necessity wa»
its inventor and little old K. C, Mizzoo,
was its mother. Know what I'm goin*
f dp? Wire Joe Finnegan. my old side
kick in K. C. V hotfoot it for San Fran'
t'morrow. When Jodie, old boy. plants
that fair young form o' his on the coast
we'll open- up a swell dump on Market
street an*''call it "The Pazaza.* an* right
then an* there is where the giddy Miss
San Fran' '11 begin t* kick up her heels
an' show her gir.srer in a way that'll
make the Merry Widow look like the
front row in a kindergarten."
"But what IS a pa — "
"Sh-h-h! don't mention it. little one!
Where's a telegraph office, so's I c'n get
a flash f Jodie? Wait fr the big sign,
an* then come around and drink a
pazaza on me." /
And Shorty breezed out toward the
elevator. Just as dry and just as mys
terious as when he entered, carrying
the secret of his cherished drink with
him.
adours were coaxing reluctant or sleepy
men to join them in the waltz.
As I * stood on the curb wondering
how to spend the time still left me,
the problem was solved in true bohem-
Jan fashion by a Jolly party of three
people I had never seen before, who came
along in a motor car, informed me
that one of their youths had proved
a "quitter" and invited me to fill his
seat on a run through Golden Gate
park to the beach. Why not?
The ride- in the park was very beau
tiful. The headlights sharply cut the
darfcness and made the trees clustered
along the perfect roadways stand out
in silvered relief like drop curtains
in a fairy moonlight stage 1 scene. The
damp sea air a3 it struck our faces
was sweet and .cool and refreshing.
Nor were we enjoying it alone, for
one party, after another returning from
the beach resorts saluted us on the
way. Along the Ocean boulevard a
few cars were' still drawn up before
eating and drinking places, and at
one of these we had a little supper
near a big, inviting open fire. As we
sped back up the beach and homeward
through the park the sky became
lighter and lighter till finally the east
grew brilliant -and red.
Down town the morning cars were
running, janitors were scrubbing side
walks, sleepy night watchmen were
plodding home with lunch pails
shawled women were hurrying to early
\u2666mass and the life and businesa of a
new day were under way.