Tomato in a Hamburger?
Again, the other day, I became embroiled in an old argument. I stood firmly on my contention that the slice of tomato does not belong in a hamburger sandwich. Most of the other people at the barbecue held that it does.
Mustard, relish, lettuce and, if one is feeling brave, onions -- yes. Tomato, no. Furthermore, I'm not so sure about the dill pickle. Let's just let it lay on the plate, to be eaten or not to be eaten. A pickle is a matter of mood.
Tomato, I argued, is a nothing flavor, which diffuses and distorts an already perfect hunk of eating. Not only that, it adds to the sandwich's thickness, making it difficult to eat.
The opposition scoffed, repeating the ridiculous canard that a hamburger is not a hamburger without a slice of tomato.
All right, so I am exposed as a tomato hater. All I can state is that it's about time those of us who feel deeply on this subject start a revolt against this vicious tyranny.
WORD STUFF -- An announcer on a Lancaster radio station, Jimmie Warrell reports, told of two bicycle riders traveling from "Holiet, Illinois, to La Hoya, California." Those Spanish Js will getcha . . . There's an Ingomar St. in Canoga Park and Stan Wood, an admirer of Ingemar Johansson, says whoever named it may have been psychic but wasn't a very good speller . . . And Herb Schnebble wonders if Al Capone ever passed through El Cajon.
DOWN THE MIDDLE
I'd willingly share;
"Wish you were here!"
And I were there.
-- RALPH FREEMAN
IN 1950 Paul Werth paid Harry Belafonte $50 for appearing in concert in Town Hall, New York. A few days ago Werth, now with KRHM-FM, taped a four-hour show with the noted singer for next Monday night and jokingly suggested that he would be glad to arrange another such concert and maybe up the ante to $75. Offer laughingly declined.
A SOCIOLOGY student at SC made a telephone survey after 9 p.m. to learn how many parents knew of their children's whereabouts.
Of 25 calls, he was surprised to discover, the phone was answered nine times by children who didn't know where their parents were.
A MUNICIPAL employees cafeteria, which actually serves excellent food, is known among them as the Ulcer Room. Perverse, those fellows . . . And a Hill St. gentleman drinker named Chuck, explaining a brief absence from the bat caves, said he'd been attending "a bourbon seance."
AROUND TOWN -- Baseball fever note: On coming out of the anesthetic after giving birth to their first child, Martha Dubell, wife of pianist Cy Dubell, asked her doctor, "How did the Dodgers make out?" They lost but she's doing fine . . . Six Bonita High Schoolers are grateful to Bill Bendix, who put out in his speedboat in Lido Isle channel and towed their stalled sailboat to safety. And not a press agent in sight.
FOOTNOTES -- Ray Duncan nominates for the trite movie dialogue file the line, "Forgive? There's nothing to forgive!" The heck there isn't . . . When the temperature soared over the weekend, adman Joe Vodneck , Pasadena apartment dweller, took his wife, Adrienne, and daughter, Lisa, to a nearby motel where they enjoyed the pool and air conditioning. Next morning back to Hotsville . . . Because of conflicting warnings which have gone out lately over the wireless Hank Osborne thinks the world is ready for an album titled "Best of the SigAlerts " . . . Aside to a lady named Julia: Those gals on Hollywood Freeway islands and shoulders were only part-time picnickers. Between bites of lunch they were taking the annual state highway traffic count.