Matt Weinstock, Jan. 14, 1960
The hassle between newspapermen and TV men over coverage of press conferences has reached an impasse and while the public doesn't particularly care, just so the news is covered, a basic difference is involved.
Newspapermen are there to get at what the subject has to say, even to prod him into saying something he hadn't intended. Whether his hair is mussed or there is egg on his coat or he gets aggravated at their questions is irrelevant. From experience, they feel they elicit the most from him when he is at ease, not under the eyes of cameras.
TV MEN ARE THERE to get the story, too, but they're also looking for a show. They feel there may be added dramatic value in a man blowing his top when trapped into replying to an embarrassing question or gulping or sneezing or tugging at his collar or scratching his chin.
Obviously the man most likely to succeed in making friends and influencing people, vital in an election year, is the best actor, one who remains unruffled and smiles an ingratiating if rehearsed smile, no matter what he is asked. A professional actor knows it's as easy to feign sincerity as it is to pretend to be surprised, terrified, happy or sorrowful.
And so there's no togetherness in press conferences since the camera crews walked out on Gov. Rockefeller and Gov. Brown. If the TV men can't bring their equipment in the room while the pencil and paper boys are asking questions they're under the orders from New York not to play.
SUDDEN THOUGHT -- Civilization is when you can't tell whether a roaring noise in the night is the sonic boom from a jet plane or the garbage grinder next door.
I shook his hand and
How flattered he must be;
But his manner was distraught,
He had forgotten me.
TWO NORWALK deputy sheriffs who visit the nearby schools instructing youngsters in traffic safety were at McGee School in Pico Rivera recently demonstrating how long it takes a car to stop in an emergency.
Deputy Lee Kerr gunned the car to 25 mph, stepped hard on the brake, then let the youngsters measure the distance required to stop -- 43 feet.
A surly fifth-grader looked at the measuring tape and exclaimed, "Aw, that car's rigged to slide farther than it should! It doesn't really take that long to stop!"
So you see, it's not only a generation of vipers, it's a generation of unbelievers.
A MAN hopelessly addicted to betting the horses recently blew the $100 his wife had given him to pay the rent and borrowed $100 from a friend named Carl. But instead of paying the rent with it he lost it also to a bookie.
When the landlord hollered, the wife demanded an accounting of the C note. Trapped, he told her he'd loaned it to Carl, who needed it desperately to pay a bookie debt.
The wife closed in on Carl, indignantly denounced horses and men, not necessarily in that order, with the result that Carl had to dig up another $100 or betray his pal.
Sternest test of friendship Carl has ever undergone.
A MAN observed wandering a golf course, looking through binoculars at homes on the fringe of the fairways, was arrested recently as a burglary suspect. He denied he had any intentions. He admitted, however, he was a potential Peeping Tom.
"But all I could see," he insisted, "were heads and TV sets!"
MISCELLANY -- Profound quotation on a notice of Leon Saulter's exhibit (painting and sculpture) at 746 N La Cienega Blvd.: "The ultimate, which is the goal, is never attained, but searching for it becomes the art" . . . Pat Buttram on CBS Radio: "It's an adult western when the hero wears a .45 Colt and the heroine a 38 sweater."