GREENWrCH VILLAGE SERIES GREENWICH UILLAGE in POETRV Showing the Village as it really was and as is actually is Edited by C. GRAND PIERRE 15 Ceuts GREENWICH VILLAGE WEEKLY NEWS, Publishers (C, QRAND PIERRE) 35 Charles Street, New York,. N. Y. Ex Hthrts SEYMOUR DURST When you leave, please leave this book Because it has been said "Ever'thing comes t' him who waits Except a loaned book." GREENWICH UlLtAGF in , POETRV owincf the VTlIagp as it really was antf as actuaiK hied by C. GRAND PIERIU GREENWICH VILLAGE WEEKLY NEWS ' 3^ Charles Sireet, New York, N- Y. Avery Architectural and Fine Arts Library Gift of Seymour B. Durst Old York Library ARE YOU? Spectator, a short- 1 Newspaper Are you tired of the turmpil Of the busy business street And the dreary affectations Where wealth and fashion meet? Do you hunger for the peaceful, The natural, the true ? Then come to Greenwich Village Where the old is ever new. TO FOURTEENTH STREET Tarlctofi Winchester Thou art the boundary line Bstwjen those" that arc and, think they arc, Those that are not and think they are, Those that are and think they are not And tho53 tnat are not and do not think at ail. GREENWICH VII. 1. AGE ("Ipmcnt Wood Writtei Boni's Book Shop I'robAbly the first VillAgu- song. Music by Bobby EdwarHs Way down in Greenwich Village Nude in art proclaims its illge- imate descent from living, Gain's the sin beyond forgiving. Artists grow as thick as thistles Wits as sharp as hedgehog bristles- Tomorrow's today in Washington Square Way down south in Greenwich Village, In the Freud and Jung and Brill age People come with paralysis For the balm of psychoanalysis Here the modernist complexes And the intermediate sexes- Fairyland's not far from Washington Squ.viv A REPUBLIC -OF THE AIR! Greenwich Villagc^A gaVlierin^ o{ consVanHt) changing men and wo>Y>en tVial' have a JpasV, or have a future, and live in both. A gatViering of |peo|3le VliaV worshif) \\\e hi^hcsV ideals, consVanHy building bridges from one illusion to anotWer, not noticing the mud th^t covers their roads and that is thrown at thew from all sides. — Where genius starved and gave the world the best it Wad! Where fort- unes were squandered and fortunes made! Where heavens of earthly bliss prevail and tortures of hell suffered ! Where night and day cease to be the regulating elements ot the world! Wheri> new ideas are develojpcd into systems. into systems that will "be oervthrown and substituted .by others that will not live any longer! Guide Bruno's WeM- THE CROAKEK Once on the edge of Minetta pool. Under the bank where 'twas dark and cool; Where bushes over the water hung And rushes nodded and grasses swung. Just where the crick flowed under the bog. There lived a grumpy and mean old frog Wo'd set all day in the mud and soak And jest do nothin' but croak an croak ! Then the Village Blackbird holl'red "ycr know What's the matter down there below ? Are you in trouble? or pain? or what? The frog sez "Mine is an orful lot I — N'Jthin' but mud, and dirt, ar>d slime For me to look at jest all ther time I — It's a dirty world!" so the ole fool spoke, "Croakity — croakty — croakity— croak 1" Y'er lookin' downl" Village Blackbird said; Look at the blossoms overhead; Look ot the lovely summer skies; Look at the bees and butterflies, — Look up, young feller; why, bless my soul, Yer lookin' down in a mus'rat hole I" But still with a gurglin' sob and choke _ TRe blamed old critter would only croak. And a wise ole turtle who boarded near Sez to Village Blackbird "See here Don't shed no tears over him for he Is low dow jest 'cause he likes tcr be I . He's one of them kinds er chumps that's glad Ter be so miserable-Kke and sad 1 Listen to somethin that ain't no joke: Don't waste no sorrow on folks that croaki" Adapted — Courtesy Scars Philosophy, 1123 Broadway gi.t uKttNWICH VlLLAuL X'bere Ulinan. in L&ncinjark History of New York In those days, far Greenwich Villagf Slept by Hudson's rural shores Two miles over from New York City With its bustle, rush and roar ! Then, great Gotham's eight thousand Tilled the fertile soil with courage And the City Hall was building "Out of towp" in these "fast days"! Then Canal Street was a tide creek Farned for piscatory charms, And Broadway was a country turnpike Winding northward by the farms. Then the stage from Greenwich Prison Drove to Wall Street twice a day — Now the sombre Black M^.ri i Often drives the other way GREENWICH VILLAGE Where Mid-Manhattan's labyrinthian maze Gf narrow lanes and streets and unmapped alleys. Spreads north from dingy Bleccker to The Arch, From Hudson eastward to the rattling "L," Behold old Greenwich Village, dear^-loved haunt. Of unknown genius struggling to be heard. There in its raftered garrets, bards and artists. Youths, gifted more or less, but poor of purse. Live the bare, carefree life, and work and hope As gifted youths have done and still will do; Work unappreciated but content. And confident of fame and long remembrance. So, by the sputtering candle's feeble light. These woyers of the laurel dpeam their dreams In quaint, Old Greenwich Village, dear-loved haunt Of unknown genius struggling to be heard. Louis How, ill his Nurst-,r>' Kliyiries of N 'i ^ I'm never at home in the morning, I'm never at home at night, Because I am in Greenwich Village The hav^n of all delight. The bells arc pealing in the village., The flags are flounting high : The farmer's watching o'er the tillage He'll reap it by and by. I'm never at home in the ev.cning, I'm never at home at dawn, Because I'm in Greenwich Village And playing that I'm a fawn. The guns are booming in the village The maskers march "awry ; The farmer's eyeing all his tillage... And garner by and by I'm never at home at midnight, I'm never at home at noon Because I'm in Greenwich Village — 1 cling to Greenwich Village. MACDOUGAL ALLEY Louis How, in his Nursery Rhymes of N Y The boys and girls that rally. In fair Macdougal Alley And clap their hands and shout While dancing round about — Oh, they possess uncounted leisure For to fill their hearts with pleasure I Let us all be gay and chant. Scorning what we would and can't; Let us make a score to tally With the boys and girls that sally Into fair MacDougal Alley I By his own admission, Bobby Edwards first efFon to ruin GREENWICH VILLAGE Down in dear old Greenwich Village, There they wear no fancy frillage. For the ladies of the Square All wear smocks and bob their hair. There tliey do not ihmk il slicking To wear stencils for a stocking. That saves the laundry bills In Washington Square. Way down south in Greenwich Village Where the spinsters come for thrillage There they speak of "sex relations" Wit?) the sordid Slavic nations, 'Neath the guise of feminism, Dodging social ostracism. They get away with much In Washington Square. Way down south in Greenwich Village Where they all consume distillage Where the fashion illustrators Flirt with interior decorators. There the cheap Bohemian fakirs And the boys from Wanamaker's Gather "atmosphere" In Washington Square. Way down south in Greenwich Village Where the brains amount to nillage. Where the girls are unconventional. And the men are unintentional. There the girls are selF-supporting, There the ladies do the courting, The ladies buy the eats In Washington Square. Way down south in Greenwich Village Come a bunch of uptown swillage. Folks from Lenox subway stations Come with lurid expectations. There the Village informalities Are construed as abnormalities By the boobs that visit Sheridan Square. Some one tried to compleie Bobby's efforts thus: Way down south in Greenwich Village It seems as though the gals ri'er will age Vamps of forty- five and fifty Sport around in batik nifty With henna dye their ancient tresses True to twenty-two confesses. They kid old Father Time In Washington Square. NON SFiOyiTUfs !' Adair SeelhofF, Bellerose. ^i - Mil the Qyil! February I'd heard of Greenwich Village The home of freaks and vice. Where only folks live who are not — Well, to be frank, just nice. Good folks nam'd it with bated breath. And wisely shaking head, A place where Satan holds full sway, And lights burn always red. 1 like to get my news first hand. So 1 said. "I'll go see This putrid place, where Vice is King, And Love roams lewd and free. "No doubt in every darkened door, Secure from light of day, A leering vampire liirks in wait To spring upon her prey. A trip like this is dangerous-— I must be on my guard, I have a wife and family — With them it will go hard. "If some bold vamp should kidnap me — Keep me in durance vile. Or slug or rob me in the dark. Then beat it with my pile. "It will not be a pleasant quest. But evil can't stay hid, The proofs i get of things may help To close and clamp the lid. I found down there some little shops Where honest thtngs were sold. All run by women whom f found Were anything but bold. 1 didn't see one robber band — I felt that was my due — No freaks I saw, I couldn't see On swell Fifth Avenue. i found folks doing worth-whiie things In every art and craft I interviewed a lot of them, And none of them we're daft. The Moulin Rouge, the Pirate's Den Are only these in name. Conducted by folks wise enough To make their work a game. If vamps are there — the're everywhere In fairness I must say. They're wise enough to only slalk The eager, anxious prey. 1 thought, for sure, I'd sec at least, Oiie leper slinking by, But all i found were, well, just folks The same as you and 1. THE ^BREVOORT FARM A lengthy i>oem on the Brevoori farm in Armstrong Book of New York Verse, Jackson Square Library TO GUI DO BRUNO Marjorie Lucille Clark Oh, Guido Bruno, they weekly boi>' Doth Feed the minds of men. Doth make them think Doth bring them tear; To some give cheer. But, oh; to those who sorrowing Scan eagerly your pages For some balm of healing — Oh, Guido Bruno, knowest thou notpu-e jpy? VILLAGE SLUMWERS By E. Wilson in winter when the Square is white The slummers come dowrt every night. In spring time when the Square is green The host of slummers spoil the scene. In summer, when the day is long The slummers come a thousand strong. In auturnn, when the Square is brown The slummers come from round the town. PONS ASINORUM Rv Bobby Edwards (Written in 19??) Neath Poppini's golden ceiling Scandal mongers used to sip Fragrant Oolong, mild and healing Passing gossip lip to lip. When a lady's heart was frozen They could tell beyond a doubt, How no one but David Rosen Should attempt to thaw it out. There were Turki© there were Persians There the Armenian showed his cheek, Filling us with deep aversions. Each one claiming to be shiek. In the somber tea room cellars They played chess and solitaire . Also flattering story tellers Told romance to ladies fair. And also maids whose f^oiks ueiiied ihem All the joys of cigarettes. . ' Surreptitiously they hied tHem Mid abandoned Villageltes. Now alas it ail is passing, Gone is all romance and charm. Bridge fiends arguing and gassing Fill the cultured with alarm. Greenwich Village is invaded — Bridgefiendshereand bridge fiends there Better far that we were raided With detectives everywhere. What's the use of culture's tillage? What an awful sacrilege ! Why put up with Greenwich Village Save to get away from bridge ? liOBBY EDWARDS Sardonix in the Quill of December 1921 (Bobby Edwards was always averse to the coarse abuse of freedom which occasionally appeared in the Village and his Quill was too tame for some of the extreme bohemians) 0 Bobby, I have read your Qyill; It hasn't given me a thrill; Where are your nutJes, Your luring lewtjs. Are you afraid of Sumner still? I'm not a yvorshipper of sex, Of naked limbs and waistless necks; But decency At times can be A fearful agency to vex. 1 long to watch you lift the veil: I wish to squirm; I love to qtjail; O jester I now— Be truthful thou ! And cast aside your moral mail GREENWICH VILLAGE Harry Birel in ihe Qyill of April I Q ' Greenwich Village, So greatly condemned by reformers And bigots. Is the Mecca-Place of sightseers. Who go there Expecting to find a modern Babylon, - Where all vices Are indulged in, especially Free Lpve; But instead. They find its people are quiet arid moral That its tea rooms Are places where one may dance Decently, And enjoy oneself to-the utmost. And the only thing That they find free down there Is the verse. And the Iea«t said about that The better Clarence Wood in Haldeman^Juliiis Magaiin* Ah, how my pen itches To sing about Greenwich its quaintness, its calm And its charm. Its queer intense face. Its Streets, Mews and Place Twist around under your arm It's easy to doubt, if you're on the right track when Waverly Place meets iself coming back, And Fourth Street grows restive, hilarious, festive Winding up toward some northerly spot, L^aps 1 0th and 1 1th — you cannot find Seventh — And twists itself into a knot! When streets grow frolicsome, daring and brave How do you imagine people behave ? A man from Poughkeepsie, who'd never been tipsy Qyite soberly came visiting here To look for his brother, on some street or other. Was not seen again for a year I When asked vvhere he'd wandred, he proved beyond doubt it had taken him all of that time to get out 1 CHARMING VILLAGE Elizabeth Penn Thorns, in The Spectator Quaint Village! Still there clings to charm Of other years; within these golden ways We stand aside and watch the world go by. Not idlers in the sun But as dream workers, who shall work Till fame is won 1 FRAGMENT Author not known Yes W3 are free, who love Washington Square. We hate to think, as uptown would'n dare. Blazing our nights with arguments uproarious: What care we for a dull world censorbus When each is sure h'll fashion something glorious. GOOD OLD TIME? r 1 . t Deil in Century M. Not mine to tell of those old times When haunted by immortal rhymes The leaky shoes upon his feet,- Pepe lived and started on Carmine street And life was short, and life was sweet; All this is true, so I dare say, But it was long before my day. There was Greenwich Village then— A refuge of tormented men Whose heads were full of dreams, whose hands Were weak to do the world's commands! Builders of palaces on sands— There,- needful of a place to sleep. Came here because the rents were cheap. Where now the tide of traffic beats, There was a maze of crooked streets; The noisy wakes of enterprise, Swift'hurrying to their destine, S^^'ift past this island paradise; Here life went to a gentle pace And dreams and dreamers found And here, safe out of change's way The houses crumbled to decay — • Crumbled, yet stood; the rooms inside Were high and stately, deep and wide, Memorials of vanished pride; No modern inconveniences^ And who would live in rooms like these? Who but the men of paint and rhyme? Here out of space and out of time, They dreamed their dreams and had their d;v/. Such as it was, of work and play I And some were sad, and some were gay — But no one in the world of words OF Greenwich Village ever heard I THE VILLAGE Marie Lowe Wilson in the Quill of November 1922 Old. Greenwich quaint, in gala paint Attracts alil