New York

Went to a beautiful mass as St. Patricks and afterwards went down to the Commodore Hotel and thanked Cmdr. Johnson personally for his assistance in helping me get out of the VP-82. Seemed like one hell of a fine fellow. Picked up Marie at 1:30 — brought her violets — and as luck would have it she was wearing an identical shade of purple. Saw “How Green Was My Valley” after an unsuccessful attempt at “Dumbo” (line a block long). “How Green…..” a very moving picture. Cocktails at Essex House (4.0) and then hamburgers for dinner!

After dozing in Marie’s room for about three hours, we went to the Stork Club. Sat with two of Marie’s friends — Pat Donnelly (Miss America 1939) and Lillian O’Donnell — and thus had the three most beautiful girls in the place to myself, with frequent interruptions. Marie got herself a balloon with two prizes in it but they would only give her a lucky penny and a dinner for four — if she had been Brenda Frazier it’d have been $100. Breakfast at Reubens (tamales) and to bed (3:30 am)

The Voice of the City — 5 p.m., raining.

Above all the sharp insistent hooting of automobile horns — plaintive bleats, full throated roars, the high pitched squeaks of the fat busses as their air brakes puff and hiss. The angry whistle of a policeman. The rumbling of an engine as it strains ahead with its load on the green light. The overtone of a million tires “shishing” on the wet pavement. The doorman’s sharp whistle to the dozing cab driver. Very faint strains (whistled) of a song from Dumbo — Disney’s latest. The bewildered clanging of the crosstown trolley at 59th street. The low pitched, well bred “hoo-hoo” of a town car, and the “ahhh” of a rowdy delivery truck. Nuts!!