Matt Weinstock, Aug. 13, 1959
August 13, 2009 | 4:00 pm
When visitors wonder why Jim Wallin, Arcadia planning commissioner,
has no diving board for his swimming pool, he tells them about his big
impulsive moment. Not long ago a nephew from out of state, a husky lad
of 21, visited him and kept practicing triple flips, striking the water
with a tremendous splash.
Soon the dichondra around the pool was turning brown from the chlorine in the water. Wallin repeatedly suggested he do simpler dives and splash less, but the nephew apparently was wearing earplugs.
One Sunday as Wallin watched from the house the young cannonballed again. Wallin walked grimly to the garage, got out his power saw, plugged it in and, to his nephew's horror, zipped off the board.
ONLY IN L.A. -- A woman customer, leaving a dress in a West Side cleaning shop, said severely, "But I must have it by Friday!" The boss assured her it would be ready. She repeated the warning and he said, "The only reason I won't have it is if I drop dead."
"In that case," she said firmly, "have someone call me and I'll come and pick it up."
WHEN Dillard Jackson, former Bakersfield High School football player, was knocked out by Pat Lowry recently at Hollywood Legion Stadium, his second, bringing him back from slumberland, asked, "You feeling all right, boy?"
Jackson replied groggily, "You better send somebody else in there, coach."
ABOUT five minutes out of San Jose the other day a distraught woman followed by a conductor and a porter came through a passenger car on the southbound Daylight Limited crying pitifully, "My baby! My baby!"
After a while the concerned passengers, including Barbara Berholz of Pasadena, were given the incredible explanation.
The woman had boarded the train in San Jose with the feeling that she'd forgotten something. Suddenly she remembered she'd left her baby in her parked car at the station.
The train was stopped and she was let off in the outskirts of the city, to get back to her cheeild as best she could. And I thought I was absent-minded.
SPEAKING OF faulty memories, most people have trouble remembering jokes. Once heard, they slip through the mind as if it were a sieve.
The other night at a party after several persons said they'd heard some good ones lately but couldn't remember them, a woman announced brightly that she had the answer to this problem in her purse.
For the last few weeks, she said, she'd written the punch lines of the good stories she'd heard so she wouldn't forget them.
She dug out the list, read off about a dozen punch lines but couldn't remember the jokes that went with them. Broke everyone up.
IN 1941, George Gillman gave a 40-year lease on his lot on W 3rd St. to a store for $3,332 a year. His county taxes on the property, located on the fringe of the downtown section, were $450 in 1941 to $2,286 a year. He presented statistics gathered by the L.A. Bureau of Municipal Research to reinforce his protest.
"No one in his right mind would buy the property for so small a return on the investment," he said.
His plea was rejected on the basis that the county was not responsible because he had given a bad lease. These, too, are the conditions which prevail for property owners.
AROUND TOWN -- In his first press conference, in which he said nothing more controversial than the fact that he is a Giant fan, William W. Burke, 53, new FBI special agent here, concluded, "If I've said anything I shouldn't, don't print it" . . . "Say, Darling," the hilarious musical comedy at the Biltmore about the headaches of getting a show on the road, has Jerome Cowan, who plays a theatrical producer, saying, "This may be the first show in history to give staff credit to a psychiatrist."