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Greenwich Village Bohemia: A Winter Wonderland Turns Into An American Renaissance.(Part I).

© Robert Edward Bell

Greenwich Village Bohemia: A Winter Wonderland Turns Into An American Reanissance.

Somewhere along an old red brickened sidewalk, where the leaves are routinely scattered by the cold northern winds blowing in from Canada, and stately mansions from a guilded age torn from the history of an ancient past, overcast by the shadows by oak trees spanning across the winding boulevards that curve through the streets before dawn lie the small streets and corners of Greenwich, New York. Greenwich Village has always carried a touch of romance around her streets, because the past seems so alive, and people that have lived there still seem to walk past beside the undertones of another steamy hot day of another summer´s passing. The words of all the writers that have lived there rain down at times against the yellow hue of a streetlamp, or the occassional laughter of a child playing hopscotch to the tunes of an old nursery rhyme tune. Some things never appear to change about Greenwich. There is a feeling that hangs in the air in Washington Square, and it almost feels that the literary personages who once lived there have never left. An old ballad written by Bobby Edwards sums up the feeling that hangs around the old houses that line the streets of the Village.

"Way down South in Greenwich Village, There they wear no fancy frillage, For the ladies of the square All wear smocks and bob their hair. There they do not think it shocking 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, Where they speak of "soul relations," 'Neath the guise of feminism Dodging social ostracism They get away with much In Washington Square.

Way down South in Greenwich Village, Where they eat Italian swillage, 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." (1)

This old stanza was written in 1922, and the verses contained in this old poem are still just as poignant, as when they first appeared on the printed page. Bobby Edwards could have just as well written such a piece in modern day America. Many people pause often and wonder why time seems to hang still in the village. There