March 6, 1958
They've stuck a flock of pictures on the walls of the County Museum by some fellow named Degas and, well, I was shanghaied by some well-meaning friends the other night just like in "This Is Your Life" and taken over there for a squint.
The joint was sure crowded. And you should have seen some of the guys. Yeah, tuxedos. Just to take a gander at some pictures. Imagine.
Well, I paraded around with the gang, picture after picture, making faces at them as if I could tell whether they were good or bad.
This Degas (pronounced Day-gah) was a fiend for ballet dancers. The joint was jumping with them, mostly young girl types. Some were real pretty, too.
SERIOUSLY, the exhibit is excellent and admirers of Hillaire Germain Edgar Degas (1834-1917) will find their feeling for his warmth and depth reinforced.
My favorite, by the way, is a painting of Degas' father, a rapt expression on his face, listening to a man playing a guitar.
In an exhibit of this kind as wide a variety as possible of the artist's work is shown. Thus, some pieces are only fragmentary sketches.
Well I couldn't help hearing a distinguished-looking gentleman say to a young lady as they studied one charcoal drawing, "That should teach you never to throw anything away. That one looks like someone fished it out of the wastebasket."
AS THE NEWS came over the teletypes yesterday that the Army had launched another satellite, irrepressible Delmar Watson went around to former Navy men on the staff and remarked, "Well, admiral, I see the Navy's still at it,"--accompanied by the motion of rowing a boat.
AS IF there weren't enough frustration in the world already, employees of an Alhambra contracting firm are playing a diabolic game on a woman bookkeeper.
She virtually lives for her personal mail. She even goes home at lunchtime for it.
Well, the last few days she has been finding cards recalling past associations, expressing regret at not seeing her for so long, ending "Love"--but with no name.
When or if she finds out it's her colleagues you may look for a little assault with intent to commit mayhem in Alhambra.
SPEAKING OF practical jokes, cruel sixth-graders at Montague Street School in Pacoima did a naughty thing to a boy of Mexican ancestry whose knowledge of English is limited.
They "taught" him to pronounce his new teacher's name. One morning he greeted the shocked instructor, "Good morning, Mr. Jackass!"
A USUALLY reliable spy reports by long-distance whisper it's apparently true that when Sputnik II made its first few runs over Washington, D.C., its electronic signals opened half a dozen garage doors. The Air Force is said to have quietly investigated and conceded the probability.
AROUND TOWN -- Alan Fox's version: "I disagree with what you say but I will defend to your death the right to say it" ... Since the strange disclosures in the drunk driving trial of Mrs. Ron Waller, taxi passengers are having fun remarking, "Be careful what you say, the driver may be wired" ... Sam Katzman, Columbia producer, likes the sign on a shoe repair shop at Hollywood Boulevard and Kingsley: "We doctor shoes. Heel them. Attend to their dyeing. And save their soles" ... Fascinating fragment of conversation overheard in an Olive Street lunchroom, two women chatting: "Is he wealthy?" "Oh, off and on."