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was amusing to look at. I am glad I saw New York in the 1920's. Memory may be playing tricks, but I have the impression that it has lost some of the grace and charm it once possessed.

     My first view of the city's famous skyline from a distance came about in this way: I received a notice from the shippers that my little loom had been delivered to a certain wharf in Brooklyn. On a Saturday morning, Tinney and I took the subway to the dock area there. We searched around, not unaware of the ogling and half-audible remarks of the longshoremen and other waterfront characters. They looked like a tough lot and I was somewhat nervous. Finally, we found a crate with my name printed on its sides. Nearby a group of teamsters sat in their horse-drawn drays, waiting for calls. We covertly looked them over and finally chose one who looked agreeable. He was short, square, and utterly Irish. He lifted the crate into the dray and asked, in a rich brogue, where he should