NYC 1978. Just got here from Ohio, to be an actor.
Confession. To be a movie star.
I get a single room on West 22nd st. It’s 15 by 8.
So I put the bed in the basement and get a mattress that stands against the wall. A folding table and chairs
Voila. It’s roomy.
Continue reading “The Village by Gene Bray”
Margaret Dawson had sold linens at Macy’s for fifteen years, hating every day of it, every customer she served, and every other sales clerk, when she met her husband, Donald, a kind-hearted Manhattan policeman who patrolled West Harlem.
Marriage did not change her discontent and the birth of a premature and severely disabled baby named Bertie brought her to a simmering rage.
literally stories 