||This c. 1947 menu from the Brown Derby has been listed on EBay. Bidding starts at $9.99.
Larry Harnisch reflects on Los Angeles history
Category: June 7, 2009 - June 13, 2009
June 13, 1899: San Francisco audiences are crowding the theater to see the "widely advertised disrobing scene" in Leon Gandillot's "The Turtle."
Oct. 23, 1989: Sadie Martinot's scandalous scene in "The Turtle."
May 9, 1923: Sadie Martinot, star of "The Turtle," dies in an insane asylum, quoting lines from her performances.
Wrong RiteIt seems incredible but people keep going to the wrong funerals.
Announcement was made in a church on a recent Sunday that a faithful parishioner named Fred Johnson had died and services would be held on the following Tuesday.
A couple who had known him for a long time but had been out of touch with him were grieved and attended the service. Afterward they went up to the casket for a final look, only to discover it was another man.
Turned out they'd heard wrong. Their friend, Ted Johnson, they were happy to learn, is alive and well.
THINGS ARE clearly out of control in Nebraska. Betty Guthrie, of Hermosa Beach, received a letter from he 10-year-old grandniece there stating, "We have three ducks. One is a drake and there are two ganders. One will soon have baby ducks."
THE OTHER DAY Buck Hurst of the CBS sales department drove out to the airport to pick up an adman friend arriving from New York. It was obvious at a glance that his friend had a hangover and Buck said, "Gee, you look terrible, your eyes are all bloodshot."
His friend groaned, "You ought to see them from in here."
When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
She goes to court and wins by golly,
And makes them pay and pay and pay.
-- G.C. McHose
IT'S REPORT card time and, as always, many faltering students fear the worst. Thus a mother appeared at a high school the other day and asked to speak to a teacher named Wolf to learn why he intended to flunk junior. There was no Wolf on the faculty and, at length, someone checkedjunior's program and found ma was confused. She wanted to speak to Mr. Lyon. Which did not endear her to the staff.
EVERY TIME the name Caskie Stinnett appears in print people ask, "Are you kidding? Is there really someone with the name?" There certainly is. He was in town the other day. He's tall, distinguished looking, addicted to bow ties and unpredictable, wildly humorous flights of fancy written and spoken.
Among other things he writes a monthly booklet for Holiday magazine. In the current number he puts his wide readership on notice of a nasty situation in the East. One issue of Variety, he points out, had 33 news stories dealing with censorship in entertainment. And twice in one week workmen went aloft to paint more clothes on a lady advertising "The NakedMaja."
Furthermore, customs officials are questioning the "seriousness" of persons wishing copies of Henry Miller's naughty opus. "The Tropic of Capricorn."
But the big thing was the raid on Philadelphia coffeehouses suspected of being hangouts, as the police put it, of "intellectuals and other shady characters." This is calculated to send a shiver of apprehension along Sunset Strip.
SOMEONE LEFT the engine running in a late model Chevrolet parked at Marineland the other night and a deputy sheriff tried to unlock the door to turn off the ignition. When he couldn't, he lifted the hood. However, he decided against pulling a wire or tampering on the grounds that the owner might object. So he let it run.Photog Bob Martin, standing nearby observed, "Maybe ought to shoot it. That would kill the engine."
AT RANDOM -- Dick Nash reports there's a horse racing around Chicago named Rickover, by Crafty Admiral ... Kardko, a greeting card firm started a year ago by Rolin Binser, 19, and his brother Vaughn, 24, of Sherman Oaks, has one with a drawing of an old geezer captioned, "Don't get all choked up over this Father's Day card." And inside the fold, "It only cost a dime" ... JoeKrengel's description of a glutton: an eatnik.
As Humans Manage to Be Very Inhuman
On the first day of June, Robert Greer, 79, received his old age pension check. It came in the mail, as always, to his small apartment at 920 W. 11th St. It was for $106.
He folded it, put it in his pocket and walked to the neighborhood supermarket. Mr. Greer walks slowly. He uses a cane.
At the market, the old man cashed his check and purchased $10 worth of groceries -- enough to last him a week or 10 days.
On his way home, he rested a couple of times with his load of bags. Each time, he'd stoop over painfully to pick them up again. Mr. Greer used to be a handy man but he isn't so handy anymore.
On arriving at his first floor apartment he put his groceries away.
Then he walked over to the landlady's apartment, counted out $40 for the month's rent and stuffed the remaining bills back into his coin purse. And he returned the purse to his hip pocket.
He went back to his room.
No sooner had he closed the door than another man appeared in the hallway. The man was short, thin, about 30 and wearing a dark suit. He was a stranger.
The stranger approached another tenant who was passing by in the corridor, "Which is the old man's room?" he asked.
"You mean Mr. Greer?" she said. "Apartment 106."
Mr. Greer's apartment number is the same as the amount on his monthly check.
The stranger went to Mr. Greer's door, knocked, and was invited in.
"I'm a surgeon at General Hospital," the man said. "I can see where you need some attention."
"I've been there three or four times," Mr. Greer told him. "My knees, my legs -- they're pretty weak."
The visitor explained that he lived in the neighborhood about four blocks away.
"I know a lot of old folks around here," he said. "It's a shame the way people nowadays neglect their old folks."
Then he continued: "Take yourself, for example. You'd feel a lot better if some of your neighbors took the time every day to give you a rubdown."
Mr. Greer answered that he was proud of his neighbors. They were fine people. They helped him a lot.
"Would you mind," the visitor continued, "if I took a look at your back?"
The man gasped. "Spots! You've got spots!"
He ordered Mr. Greer to lie down on the bed on his stomach. Then, with gentle but firm hands, he began massaging the old man's shoulders and back. For 30 minutes he massaged.
"Feel better?" he asked finally.
"Much better," answered Mr. Greer. "It was very kind of you."
"What you really need," continued the man, "is some heat on those spots. I've got a heat lamp in the car, if you'd like me to get it."
"I certainly don't want to put you to any more bother," replied Mr. Greer.
"No bother," said the man. "You just wait here and relax. I'll be right back."
He walked out the door.
Of course he didn't return, he wasn't a doctor.
We Sympathize, Mr. Greer
And, of course, when Mr. Greer became suspicious, about 20 minutes later, and removed his coin purse from his pants pocket, it was empty.
The "rubdown" is an old, old con game.
Undoubtedly, it ranks with the most vicious of them all. Because always its victims are kindly and trusting old people who aren't in very good shape, either physically or financially.
People like Mr. Greer.