here! This is the Bowery, and you remember what the guide said about it
when we took that bus trip. He called it the worst district of the
city!”
“Oh dear!” Amy whispered, looking nervously about her. “What should we
do now?”
“I think we’d better go,” Peggy said. “Chinatown starts right across the
street, and I remember what the guide said about that, too. He said not
to believe all the old mystery stories; Chinatown is just about the
safest place in the city. The Chinese have practically no criminals
among them, and any tourist is safe there. Let’s go!”
Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, and doing all they could to
avoid the appearance of hurrying, Peggy and Amy crossed the street and
turned into a narrow alley between two Chinese food shops whose windows
were filled with things that neither girl could identify.
Once more they were made aware of the sudden changeability of the city.
In no time at all, they were out of the frightening streets of the
Bowery and in the crowded, noisy, bright-colored center of Chinatown.
The streets, so narrow that in some places the sidewalks were scarcely a
foot wide, were lined with restaurants, gift shops, importing houses
that specialized in tea and spices, and more of the oddly stocked
Oriental groceries and markets. Somewhat shaken by their fear on the
Bowery, they stopped for tea and rice cookies in a large Chinese
restaurant, where they sat at a small table on a balcony overhanging the
main street of the district.
“I think we’d better stop looking for theaters today,” Peggy suggested.
“Besides, it’s after five-thirty now, and almost time for dinner. Why
don’t we look around some of the shops here, and then come back to this
restaurant for dinner? We can look for theaters again tomorrow.”
Amy agreed, but looked pained at the suggestion that they do more
searching the next day. “I don’t know how you can stand it,” she said.
“My feet are killing me from today’s walk. Why don’t we wait awhile?”
“Because tomorrow’s Sunday,” Peggy replied firmly, “and it’s our last
chance to get in a full day’s looking before next week. After-school
hours just aren’t enough. If we really want to check out this whole
list, we have to work weekends.”
Amy sighed. “My worst habit isn’t laziness,” she said, “it’s picking the
wrong kind of friends. If I had known, when we first met, how much
energy you have, I would have refused to know you!”
XIV
_The Hidden Theater_
Sunday, like Saturday, produced one blank after another.
Peggy and Amy saw theaters that had been turned into television studios,
union halls, social clubs, and lodges; theaters converted to restaurants
and supermarkets; sites of theaters long vanished and forgotten now
occupied by office buildings, apartment houses or the blank-faced,
featureless warehouses that fill much of lower Manhattan.
On Monday, when their last class was over at two-thirty, Peggy once more
took up her list and her bundle of city maps and guides. “Let’s go,
Amy,” she said in tones of mixed determination and resignation. “We’ve
got a couple of hours this afternoon, and we might as well use them.”
“Why don’t we take the afternoon off?” Amy asked. “My feet are just
killing me, and I’m sure if I walk for another two hours I’ll come down
with an awful blister. We can look again tomorrow, after a day’s rest.”
Peggy considered the suggestion for a moment. It would be a relief to
take an afternoon off and just loaf about the house. But then she shook
her head. “No. If we don’t have any luck, we can take tomorrow off, but
I’d like to go out again today. There’s a meeting of the players tonight
at Connie’s, you know, and I’d love to be able to report that we found
something today. Let’s give it a try.”
“All right, Peggy,” Amy agreed, “if you’re game, so am I. And it would
be nice to have some good news for the gang tonight. I’m just afraid
that we’ll put a damper on the evening when we show up all tired out
with some more of our usual bad news.”
Peggy half agreed, but knew that if she gave in and let down her pace,
she might never again get up the kind of drive she had been working on
for the last week. With a deep breath and a determined expression, she
swept Amy off with her.
“The section we’re looking in today,” she explained as they walked to
the subway, “is a little west and south of Greenwich Village. It’s
mostly warehouses now, but there were once several theaters there, and
since there’s been almost no new construction in the area in the last
fifty years, there’s a chance that some of the theaters have been left
alone. I’m particularly interested in two of them that I think have a
better chance of being there than the others we’ve looked for.”
“Why should these two have a better chance?” Amy asked.
“The licenses show that there were several theaters built in the city at
one time in a way that got around the fire laws. The law said that you
couldn’t build a theater with any other kind of space over it, and with
land so expensive, it kept a lot of people from building theaters. So a
few smart builders put theaters on the top floors of office buildings,
and got more rentable space on their ground that way. I’ve found permits
for over a dozen of these top-floor theaters.”
“But why should they still be there,” Amy asked, “any more than any of
the other old theaters?”
“Two reasons,” Peggy answered. “In the first place, nobody would want to
convert a top-floor theater to a restaurant or a garage or anything like
that. And in the second place, the district we’re going to has
practically no apartment buildings in it, and that means that there
aren’t residents in the neighborhood to want to use a theater for a
social club or a church or a funeral parlor. I have a feeling that we’re
going to find our theater here, if we find it anywhere.”
Amy agreed with Peggy’s logic and further noted that, if they did find a
theater in this district, it would be a good location. There were two
subway lines that had stops on either side of the area, and several bus
lines as well.
These observations gave them a somewhat more cheerful outlook, and it
was with a renewed sense of anticipation that they came up from the
subway and started their search in this promising new district.
The streets in this part of town were narrow, and crowded with trucks
that were backed up at all angles to loading platforms that ran like
boardwalks along the fronts of the buildings. Most of the buildings were
produce markets where wholesale food merchants received the meats,
vegetables, fruits, and packaged goods that fed the city. Wide
protective canopies that overhung their fronts gave the loading
platforms the appearance of old-fashioned porches. Other buildings were
warehouses, obviously designed for storage. Their blank windowless walls
and heavy steel doors made them look like ancient fortresses. Here and
there, between these and the produce markets, stood the most familiar
kind of New York business building, the so-called “loft,” used for light
industry or, occasionally, offices. It was in front of one of these that
Peggy stopped.
“Here’s our first address,” she said. “According to my list, a theater
was licensed here by the original construction permit in 1892.”
Amy looked at the worn, red brick front, unconvinced. “A theater here? I
can’t imagine it! Maybe this place was built later, after the original
building with the theater was torn down.”
Peggy shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve gotten pretty good at
architecture in the last few days, and I think I can guess the date of a
New York building within a couple of years. This wasn’t built much later
than 1892. It must be the original building with the theater. Let’s see
if we can get any clue to it.”
The girls walked across the street in order to get a better view of the
building and, as soon as they turned to look, Peggy’s eyes lighted.
“Look up!” she said. “There’s a theater up there, all right!”
“How do you know?” Amy asked wonderingly.
“Look at the windows! The first five floors have windows all the same
height—a normal ceiling height. But the top floor has windows that must
be twenty feet high! That means that the ceiling height is over twenty
feet up there. What else could it be but the theater?”
“You must be right!” Amy agreed with excitement. “What do we do now?”
“Let’s see if there’s a janitor or anyone who can tell us about it; if
it’s being used, and what for. Even if someone’s using it, we might be
able to rent it from him if we can pay him more than he’s paying now.
Let’s go and look!”
They ran across the street and into the vestibule of the building, but
when Peggy tried the door, she found it locked. A small sign on the door
read O & O TRUCKING Co. And the same name was written over the bank of
mailboxes. Apparently there were no other tenants in the building, and
nobody seemed to be in the O & O offices.
“We can always write to them,” Amy suggested, “or we can try them on the
phone until we find someone in.”
“I guess we’ll have to,” Peggy agreed. But then she noticed the
doorbell, almost invisible under many layers of thick green paint. “Wait
a minute! Let’s see if the bell works. Maybe there’s a watchman, or
somebody else.”
[Illustration: The door swung open]
A push at the button produced a loud ringing from deep within the
building. Its sound seemed to echo for seconds after Peggy released the
button.
“If there’s anybody in there, that’s going to bring him,” she said.
After a few minutes’ wait, she decided to try again. This time, at the
same instant that she touched the doorbell, the door swung open,
revealing a man in dirty overalls who stood blinking at the light and
regarding them with a scowl.
“Whatta ya want?” he grated.
“Are you the superintendent?” Peggy asked politely.
“I’m the janitor. Whatta ya wanta know for?”
“Well, we’re just wondering about the theater upstairs—”
“Theater? Ain’t no theater here, kid,” the man growled, and started to
shut the door.
“Wait!” Peggy said, holding the door open. “There is a theater upstairs!
We know there is! All I want to know is what it’s used for.”
“It ain’t used for nothin’,” the janitor started angrily. Then he
stopped himself, remembering his first statement. “Besides, you got the
wrong place. Like I said, no theater here. Now beat it!” With an extra
push, he slammed the door shut, and Peggy and Amy once more were faced
with nothing more enlightening than the O & O sign.
“Why, I’ve never in my life seen such awful manners!” Amy said, almost
with a stamp of her foot. “I’m going to write to that company as soon as
we get home and tell them about—”
“Amy,” Peggy interrupted, “I think you’re getting excited about the
wrong thing. Let’s get away from here and talk this over.”
But before leaving the district, she crossed the street once more to be
sure that she was not mistaken about the building. Her second look
convinced her that she had been right. Those windows could only mean a
high-ceilinged room of some sort, and the license clearly stated that it
had been a theater.
“Amy, there’s just one thing to do now. We’ve got to check the city
records again, this time to see the plans of this building. Then, once
we’re sure it’s a theater, we’ve got some thinking to do before we act.”
“But why would that janitor say there was no theater there if there is
one?” Amy said.
“That’s the question,” Peggy agreed darkly. “I want to know why he said
that, and I want to know what the place is being used for.”
“But, Peggy,” Amy protested, “why should we go poking into other
people’s business? We already know that they’re not going to rent us
this theater, and that they’re downright unpleasant people. Why don’t we
just cross this one off, and go look at the others on your list?”
“Amy, you’re not thinking clearly,” Peggy said patiently. “It seems to
me that the only reason anyone would have for acting the way that
janitor did is that there’s something wrong going on in there—something
that makes it important for them to keep people out.”
“If that’s the case,” Amy said reasonably, “why did the janitor act so
suspiciously? If he had just said that the theater’s been converted to
some other use and isn’t for rent, we would have gone away and not
thought a thing about it.”
“That’s true,” Peggy agreed, “but I think we caught him off guard. After
all, it’s undoubtedly the first time anyone’s come around to ask him
about the theater, and he just didn’t know what to say. Besides, I don’t
think he’s very smart. He’s certainly not the man in charge of whatever
crooked business is going on in there.”
“If you’re sure it’s something crooked, why don’t we just report it to
the police?” Amy asked.
“We can’t go to the police with just our suspicions,” Peggy replied.
“They want some kind of indication that there’s something illegal before
they can investigate. In fact, I know they can’t even get a search
warrant without evidence. No, I’m afraid we’ll have to look into this on
our own.”
“But, Peggy,” Amy protested, “we’re supposed to be looking for a
theater, not playing cops and robbers!”
“This _is_ looking for a theater,” Peggy said intently. “If we uncover
something crooked going on in there, and if we can convince the police
of it, that building’s going to be vacant pretty soon. Come on! Let’s
dig up the plans for this place before the Bureau closes for the night!
I want to see what kind of stage the group is going to have to play on!”
XV
_The Stage Door_
This time, knowing the name and address of the theater, and knowing
exactly what they were looking for, the girls had little trouble finding
the file set of plans for the theater, kept with the Fire Department as
a record of the seating plan, capacity, and exits.
Mason’s Starlight Theater, as the place had originally been called, had
a good working stage plan, not too wide, but with extraordinarily good
depth. It accommodated four hundred seats, which was a small auditorium
by Broadway standards, but larger than most of the off-Broadway houses.
Wing and fly space was generous, to allow for easy movement of scenery
off to the sides (or wings) or up on ropes and pulleys to the flies. The
dressing rooms were small, but they were well located. It seemed to Amy
and Peggy like the perfect jewelbox of a theater that they had dreamed
of since they had started their search.
The entrance to the theater, they found, was not through the street door
of the loft building, but down an L-shaped alley that ran alongside the
building and, when it turned, opened into a sort of courtyard. Playgoers
had been taken up to the top floor on an oversized freight elevator
which also had served for bringing in scenery and props, and which was
rated to carry fifty passengers at once. Two additional exits were
provided by fire-escapes outside the building. There was no way to enter
or leave the theater from the rest of the building, and the elevator
stopped only at the theater level. The loft floors were served by a
regular-sized passenger elevator reached through the front hall.
“Well, it looks just perfect,” Peggy said triumphantly. “Now all we have
to do is find out what it’s being used for, expose it, and move in when
the crooks move out!”
“I think you’re jumping to conclusions,” Amy said. “It seems to me that
the janitor might actually not have known about the theater. After all,
it can’t be reached through the building, and if he’s never been told
about the back elevator, or never been allowed to use it, he might not
know what’s up there.”
“Maybe,” Peggy said doubtfully, “but it seemed to me that he looked
awfully guilty about something. I’m sure he’s part of whatever’s going
on there.”
Amy protested. “That’s just the point! Maybe there’s nothing going on
there! Maybe the janitor doesn’t know about the theater, and it’s not
being used by crooks, but just sitting up there empty, gathering dust!
Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
“It sure would,” Peggy agreed, “but I don’t think we’re that lucky. Of
course we could look up the name of the owner of the building and ask
him about the theater, but if it is a crooked game, and if the owner is
in on it.... No. I don’t think that’s the way to do it.”
“How do you think we should handle it, then?” Amy asked.
“I think we ought to go back to the place right now,” Peggy said,
“before it gets dark. I want to look around that back alley and theater
entrance just to see if we can pick up any clues. Then we’ll talk it
over with the boys and listen to their ideas.”
“I can believe that you’ll talk it over with them,” Amy laughed, “but I
have my doubts about your listening to anybody’s ideas! Still, I said
I’d go theater hunting with you, and I’m not going to back out now!”
By the time they had turned in their plans and charts to the file clerk
and returned to the loft-theater building, it was almost six o’clock.
Most of the trucks that had filled the streets were gone now, not to
return until after midnight, when the produce market would open for one
more business “day.” A few of the offices, small manufacturing
businesses and printing shops that filled the surrounding lofts, were
still open, judging by the lights in their windows, but for the most
part the streets and buildings were empty in the pearly twilight.
Making every effort to be inconspicuous, the girls ducked down the alley
to the rear courtyard entrance of the Starlight Theater. A miniature
marquee bearing the name “Mason’s” overhung a short flight of stairs
that led up to a loading platform, at the back of which was a wide, high
elevator door with pillars on either side. Above it, a plaster arch was
decorated with the twin masks of Comus—comedy and tragedy.
“Do you still think that the janitor didn’t know there was a theater in
the building?” Peggy whispered. “He’d have had to be blind as well as
dumb.”
Walking very quietly, the girls ascended the steps and approached the
huge elevator door. “Look!” Peggy whispered, pointing to the metal
doorsill. Amy nodded, clearly understanding the meaning of the bright
metal.
“It’s being used regularly,” Peggy said. “You can see where the sill is
dark and rusted toward the sides, and bright in the center, where people
have been walking over it.”
“And the lock!” Amy said. She and Peggy examined the heavy padlock that
secured the door to the frame by stout hasps. It was bright and clean,
of modern design and well-oiled. Any further doubts they might have had
were dispelled by examination of the door hinges, which were coated with
a heavy layer of fresh grease.
“Not only is the theater in use,” Peggy whispered, “but whoever is using
it is being awfully careful that he doesn’t make any noise opening and
shutting these doors. Are you convinced now?”
Amy nodded, wide-eyed. “I surely am. And I’m convinced that we’d better
get out of here before the man with the keys comes along! I’d hate to be
caught snooping around!”
Feeling not in the least as calm as she hoped she looked, Peggy motioned
Amy to wait while she took a last look around to be sure that there was
nothing she had missed. Then, her heart beating wildly, she and Amy left
the alley as cautiously as they had entered it. But neither of them felt
really safe until they were blocks away, and on their way to Connie’s
for the meeting of the players.
“We seem to be practically living in alleys,” Amy said as they let
themselves in through the street gate and started down the passage to
Connie’s little house.
“Yes, but I feel a lot better in this one than in the last,” Peggy said.
“When we get the theater, we’ll have to fix up that alley like this one,
with flower borders and lights to make it cheerful. We can fix up the
courtyard, too, with a little fountain and some garden seats and—”
“You’re awfully confident about getting that theater,” Amy interrupted.
“I hope that you’re not going to be disappointed.”
“I won’t be,” Peggy said. “I know that it was just meant for us, and I
mean to make sure that we get it!”
Connie let the girls in, and while they were saying hello to her and the
others, the buzzer announced the arrival of Tom Galen and Mona Downs.
“I’m so glad everyone’s here at once!” Peggy said. “We’re so full of
news that if we had to wait for anyone, I think we’d burst!”
“Don’t tell us you’ve found a theater!” Randy exclaimed.
“I will tell you,” Peggy answered, “because we did!”
“What’s wrong with it?” Mal asked.
“Where is it?” Connie said at the same time.
“And how much is it?” Randy put in, in the same instant.
“Whoa! One at a time!” Peggy protested. “If everybody will get settled
and hold the questions for a few minutes, I’ll tell you all about it.
Now,” she said, when the players were seated in expectant attitudes,
“now I’ll tell you everything you want to know. It’s called Mason’s
Starlight Theater; it’s on the top floor of a loft in the market area
southwest of Greenwich Village; we don’t know the rent; it’s a perfect
theater, just the right size, and—.”
“I feel a _but_ coming, rather than an _and_,” Randy said.
“Well, only a small _but_,” Peggy said. “The place happens to be in use
right now.”
“Great,” Mal said sarcastically. “You can now add your name to the long
list of those among us who have located perfect theaters that happen to
be in use!”
“Wait!” Peggy said. “This is different. In the first place, nobody will
admit to using it; in the second place, we think there’s something
crooked going on there; and if we do a little bit of detective work, I
think we can find out what it is. If I’m right, and if it’s being used
by crooks, we can get the theater for ourselves by getting the crooks
out!”
Their interest aroused by this unusual statement, the players began to
question Peggy and Amy about their suspicions and about the
circumstances that surrounded their discovery of the Starlight Theater.
When the girls had told them about their interview with the janitor, and
about their later visit to the alley behind the building, everyone
seemed convinced that there was something peculiar going on at the
place.
“The polished doorsill and the greased hinges and the new lock prove
that it’s being used,” Peggy concluded. “And the janitor’s attitude
seems to indicate that it’s being used for something illegal.”
“It sounds like an airtight case to me,” Pip said. “Why don’t we just
take the facts to the police and let them investigate?”
“Because there are no facts yet,” Peggy said. “All we have are guesses.
There must be thousands of places in use in the city, and thousands of
janitors who don’t want to be friendly and tell what they’re used for,
and I don’t think that the police would be willing to agree that they’re
all run by gangsters.”
“Peggy’s right. We can’t go to the police without more evidence,” Randy
said. “Before they’ll swear out a search warrant, we have to have
something more definite for them.”
“Then let’s get it!” Pip said with enthusiasm. “What do you suggest,
Peggy?”
“I think we ought to set up a lookout post in that back alley,” she
answered decisively. “There’s a place under the fire stairs on the far
side of the building where two people could hide and see without being
seen, and it shouldn’t take more than a couple of nights of looking to
find out what’s going on.”
“Why nights?” Randy asked. “They might be doing whatever it is they do
in the daytime, too. I’m afraid we’d have to set up a twenty-four-hour
watch to be sure of finding anything out.”
“I don’t think so, Randy,” Peggy argued. “If they were using the place
by day, they probably wouldn’t have taken so much care with the hinges.
What’s more, I’m sure the janitor was sleeping when we rang the bell,
which is why he took so long in answering it. I would guess that he
works at night with the rest of the gang. Besides, that neighborhood
would be perfect for night work. The markets are practically deserted
between six and midnight. Probably after midnight, when the markets open
up, the crooks run a legitimate trucking business as a cover-up.”
“The girl’s a positive Sherlock,” Mal said fondly. “Anyway, we can try a
few nights, and if nothing shows up, we can then worry about extending
the watch during the daytime as well.”
“When do we start?” Tom Galen asked.
“Tomorrow night,” Peggy said. “It’s too late to start tonight. We’d want
to be in the alley and under the stairs before it gets really dark.
Tomorrow Amy and I will stand watch, then—”
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Randy said. “You two have done your part in this.
The lookout work will be done by men!”