Back in the "good old days" of Great Depression #1, following Stock Market Crash '29 - years and years - well, at least a galloping few - before my time, the arts took a real financial broadsiding.
Money for spending on painting, sculpture, plays, Broadway musicals wasn't available as it had been during The Roaring Twenties, when my sainted mother was just a kid, and I not a twinkling (or a twihk) in anybody's eye.
"Brother Can You Spare a Dime?" became a second national anthem, and many a poor soul eked out an existence selling carefully polished apples on street corners. The only 'art' that thrived were movies. (Two hours of once-a-month escapism with cartoon. Twelve …
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