closed theater. The marquee advertises a play starring Judd Hirsch, George Wendt and Joe Morton, the heroic sheriff from "Blazing Saddles." We smell a Tony.

A four-foot tall, crippled, drunk beggar works the line. He's not having much luck. Some of the VJ wannabees are getting testy. An MTV staffer, charged with keeping the line orderly, observes the commotion with a smirk. Gesturing toward the hunch-backed bum, he launches into a sidewalk sermon:

"Can't you guys show a brother some love? This brother's working hard tonight, out in the rain, trying to scrape together some food money. Show the man a little kindness. Show him some love."

There is a moment of clam. The panhandler, the impromptu preacher, the line-dwellers, we all wait for an outbreak of generosity, for people to delve into their pockets and shovel over hoards of change. It is not to be. I make the preacher a proposition:

"Why don't you give me your MTV logoed North Face parka, and I'll cough up a nickel for your disadvantaged friend." No deal. The line again shuffles forward. We bid Judd Hirsch adieu and greet the cast next door.