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Matt Weinstock, June 6, 1959

June 6, 2009 |  4:00 pm

Supreme Insult

Matt Weinstock Mostly the people in state employment offices who deal with the public, a wearing and thankless job, take things as they come, but occasionally there's an exception.

A man came into one office for his unemployment insurance as he had for many weeks and, as before, the lady got his folder and looked at it. Then she asked what he did for a living.

The insult to his intelligence combined with his frustrating and unsuccessful search for a job was too much. He knew his record as an architectural draftsman for 30 years was written there. So he said ironically, "I'm a plumber."

The lady took his folder to a supervisor, who came over and inquired, "Why did you say you're a plumber?"

The applicant for the dole replied, "What would you say?" Then he added, "I suppose that kills me for the week."

The supervisor flashed him an understanding look and said simply, "No."


ANOTHER INCIDENT in the playful running feud between newspapermen and TV reporters occurred when Max Conrad landed his light plane at International Airport Thursday after flying nonstop from Casablanca.

Conrad was telling of his flight to the churning cameras when this paper's Howard Williams came up and said, "We've got your daughter on the phone in San Francisco."

"Where?" the delighted Conrad asked.

"Over there in the phone booth," he was told.

"What'll I do with this?" Conrad asked, holding up the microphone he'd been talking into.

"I'll take it," Williams said. And as Conrad headed for the phone to talk to his daughter Molly, 21, Williams dropped the mike on the ground, providing a fine view of nothing for the cameras.



From vacation I've returned,
Flat of purse and quite sunburned.
Both funds and self were spent with zest;
And now I'm back at work to rest.



THE CURTAIN used by the Bolshoi Ballet in its performances is a thick, ornate red and gold affair with a hammer and sickle on it.

As it came down amid thunderous applause at the conclusion of a number at the Shrine Auditorium, Fred Fox couldn't help hearing an elderly, fur-bedecked woman in a nearby seat say irrelevantly and yet not so irrelevantly to her elderly, fur-bedecked companion, "You know, I haven't been reading the Wall St. Journal as much as I should lately."

SPEAKING OF the Bolshoi troupe, about 15 of them came downtown during a recess from their labors and bought some trinkets at the National Silver Co. on Los Angeles Street.

They were attended by an elderly man who went among them, seeking someone who could speak some English.

He found one and told her he felt a certain bond with them because he was born in a village near Kiev, although his parents had brought him to this country in infancy. He also said he had tried to get tickets to see them but couldn't.

"Perhaps we can make up for that," said the young woman, named Larica Trembolevskaia, and without ado graciously performed a little dance for him.

FOOTNOTES -- Inasmuch as there are maximum and minimum speeds for motorists, Molly Prager contends it should be compulsory for pedestrians in crosswalks to move "not less than the speed of an arthritic snail with a cramp in legs wearing tight, pointed shoes" ... While attending the aviation writers' dinner in Chinatown this week, publicist DonFlamm opened a rice cookie and found the printed admonition. "Travel by road or rail" ... When the phone rings at George Trammel's house on W 76th St., his parrot Pancho says, "Hello, just fine!" ... Anyone else besides George B. Hill recall the easier times when Chinese Red meant simply a color used by painters?