thirty-threeHalloween! It’s Friday and it’s Halloween! The usual rounds of partying that mark the end of a dreary workweek become a pagan carnival engulfing the whole City. It’s Friday; it’s Halloween; it’s payday! In North Beach, Coit Tower, illuminated by floodlights, stands straight up on top of Telegraph Hill. In its shadow, secretaries sip wine in the Savoy Bar, a jungle of green palms and overstuffed chairs.
“Thank God it’s Friday.”
“Thank God!”
Through plate glass windows the carnival passes before them. Revelers in ostentatious costumes fill the sidewalks heading for parties, looking for parties, making their own parties on corners under street lamps.
“Look at him!” A gigantic Samoan the size of a defensive tackle parades by dressed like Henry the Eighth—purple robes, golden cr
