Matt Weinstock, Nov. 14, 1959

Today Is Forever     Thirty years ago R. Julian Dashwood, a Britisher, found himself broke and hungry in Sydney, Australia.  Standing in a free food line, he determined never to be dependent again on how others mismanaged the world.     When the economic atmosphere cleared, he found his personal paradise, as many pressure-trapped city dwellers yearn to do, on Mauke, in the Cook Islands of the South Pacific.  He married a native girl and supports himself by selling seashells all over the world.     Readers may recall previous mention here of Dashwood's psychological bout with the natives.  When they refused to collect shells he got a movie projector and showed some old films, free at first, to the enchanted natives.  Then he told them it would cost a penny to see them.  They had no money, so he paid them to collect shells and they used the pennies as admission to the movies. ::     THROUGH A mutual interest in shells, Dashwood and Bennett Foster, L.A. adman, have maintained a wonderful correspondence.  Perhaps Dashwood's latest letter will inspire or disenchant those who still hope some day to take off for the South Seas.  The man's a poet as well as a philosopher.     He begins, "I smile to myself sardonically, thinking of you sitting in that ghastly office, imagining the delights of a tropical paradise.  At this moment the paradise is a slatey gray with sheets of rain driving in off the sea.  The fishing has gone sour for months, a situation for which I blame the Dulles-Macmillan bomb-testing firm.  My battery-driven radio has gone phut and it will be months before I can get it fixed.  You have no monopoly on grievances, only a variety of same.  But whereas mine will probably culminate in a magnificent semi-public row with my Polynesian wife, thus disposing of a lot of already cracked crockery and a marvelous discharge of libido, yours will probably find a final outlet in a stomach ulcer. ::      "BUT SERIOUSLY, I think most people work out a compromise of sorts with life only over the grave of several dreams.  Some, like myself, attempt to preserve parts of the dream in reality -- a difficult tight-rope performance.  But of this I am certain: One always gets what one wants provided one wants it badly enough to sacrifice everything to the achievement thereof.  And even then the laugh is with the Fates and Furies because although man unquestionably consciously creates the situation, the final result is seldom quite in keeping with his original intentions. ::     "IN MAUKE nothing ever happens.  This is why time passes with almost terrifying rapidity.  There are no permanent values;  nothing lasts;  one is here today, gone tomorrow and forgotten the day after.  Even the tombstones are made of soft coral and soon crumble away."     Expressing thanks for books Foster sent him, Dashwood continues: "I enjoyed them immensely, particularly 'The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit,' Vance Packard's ominously fascinating 'The Hidden Persuaders' and 'Lolita,' for me the clinching argument in my contention that the American way of life is shot to pieces on the moral front.  What a beautiful pool of iridescent slime." ::     DASHWOOD continues:  "I have only one complaint.  Time.  I have lived in the islands for 30 years and I cannot recall as many individual events.  In an environment where age carries no great penalties or burdens, one is lulled into a false sense of extended youth.  There is forever 'today,' tomorrow is somebody else's affair.  If the world came to a standstill we would slide off with complete absence of fuss.  Our preparations for the future are confined to making the best of the present.  We have a fine home, acres of unused land, three pleasant children, and no savings, no insurance, no superannuation schemes.  And nobody cares. ::     "TOTAL ESCAPE?  Maybe.  Probably as nearly as humanly possible.  Escape from people who could certainly bore me;  escape from the rat race and financial worries;  escape from practically everything except myself, and the best answer to that is to be so fond of oneself that the idea of separation is intolerable.  You probably couldn't take it anymore than I could Los Angeles."

Matt Weinstock, Nov. 13, 1959

“Artists Always Seem More Sensitive.” The End Is in Sight     Bravely ignoring the tear-inducing smog which was seeping in through the woodwork, the gentlemen of the copy desk yesterday, between, editions, went into their daily seminar titled "Whither Drifteth?"  Their despondent conclusion, delivered to my desk, is as follows:     "Meteorological trends indicate it will never rain again in Los Angeles.  If this becomes fact, it is safe to predict that by 1975 there will be no one left except perhaps a few standby guards.  Their job will be to keep an eye on public buildings to see if they dry up and blow away or disintegrate in the smog.  their reports will be of value, of course, when examined in some future era by scientists seeking to determine wha hoppen.  You are welcome to this information free."     Now, maybe that'll bring rain and chase away the nasty olefins. ::     SPEAKING OF EYE IRRITATION, a friendly gentleman phoned the APCD yesterday and inquired about the smog.  Explaining he had arrived recently from the Midwest, he said, "This isn't as bad as it was in Chicago and if it doesn't get any worse we'll stay in Hollywood."  Some days, he went on, his eyes burned but his wife's didn't.  Other days his wife's eyes burned but his didn't.     The APCD man congratulated him, saying, "Seems to me you have the perfect smog marriage." ::         THOUGHT       FOR PROBERS We've heard the toppers     of TV Insist on purest honesty- But, wouldn't you call it     controversial Whether there's truth in     each commercial?     --F. MENDELSOHN JR. ::     ONLY IN L.A. -- Dorothy Odin of Pacific Palisades reported to police the other day that someone had stolen her car.  "I can't understand why," she said.  "It's a 1948 Dodge with 102,000 miles on it."  A few hours later she had it back.  Two young men had been observed acting suspiciously at a westside market center.  When police gave chase the pair grabbed Old Ironsides, of all things, as a getaway car.  They didn't get away. ::     EYEBROWS RAISED knowingly here and there when George Hunter White, West Coast federal narcotics agent, testifying before the U.S. Senate subcommittee, criticized the LAPD.      "The police here are missing the boat," he said.  "They shouldn't close a case simply with the arrest of a peddler.  When a peddler is arrested, the game is just beginning.  We're after the original source."     White, former L.A. newspaperman who has achieved world-wide note for tough dealing in narcotics enforcement, isn't afraid of anybody. ::     TV TALK programs flourish in New York as well as here and recently Louis Untermeyer, noted anthologist, wit and author of "Lives of the Poets," appeared on Henry Morgan's show.     Morgan, renowned bad boy of broadcasting, asked, "How old are you?" Untermeyer looked at his watch and said he was 74.     "You don't look it," Morgan said, "My father is 74 and he looks 96."     "If I were your father," Untermeyer said, "I'd look 96, too." ::    AT RANDOM -- A group of Water and Power employees will leave today on a four-day, 1,100-mile tour of the department's widespread reservoirs, power plants and transmission lines.  They'll travel on a chartered bus at their own expense.  There's dedication to duty . . . A youngster in Joe Hecht's store said he was learning about the history of Texas at school and knew the names of two cities -- "Sam Houston and Sam Antonio" . . . There's a sequence in "The Last Angry Man" in which a man producing a TV show about Paul Muni, a physician of great integrity, exults, "I'll make television history!"  The sponsor says quietly, "A good show will suffice" . . . Leo Katcher's solution to the cranberry mess:  Put filters on them . . . Grace Garrett's answer to the dilemma, in a word, is applesauce.  She means it.  Of course, Grace is the noted baby sitter who confided to Groucho Marx recently that she put catsup on raspberry pie.

Matt Weinstock, Nov. 12, 1959

Serious Slapstick     As you may have read, that was quite a comedy of errors the other night in the little city of Cypress in Orange County.     On a tip that Louis Ross Lord, 35, road camp escapee, was there, two Norwalk deputies, D.W. Llewelyn and D.J. Hawkins, went to a house on Sumner Pl.     When Lord opened the door and saw them, he struck Llewelyn, knocking him down.  Llewelyn got out his gun and shot at Lord and he went down.  As Llewelyn bent over to see if Lord was wounded, Lord jumped up and knocked him down again.  He hadn't been shot, he'd fainted.     Lord ran out the door and Llewelyn fired another shot, which put a hole through the gas meter.  Meanwhile, Hawkins dashed around the house from the other direction to head off Lord.  He and Lord collided in the back of the house and Lord went down.  Hawkins subdued him with a flashlight and that ended that.      But there was a touching epilogue to the Keystone Kop sequence that was unreported in the papers.  At the height of the desperate calisthenics a woman next door stuck her head out the front door and yelled, "Why don't you drunks go home!" and disgustedly slammed the door. ::     THE INFORMATION that new standards of air purity which would cut down the carbon monoxide in auto exhaust had been proposed at a state Department of Public Health hearing caught the Spring St. coffee break philosophers in a perverse mood.     "The Society for the Encouragement of Suicide isn't going to like this," one said.  "After all, they have a right to expect the usual lethal quality when they inhale the stuff."     "That's what I like about you," a compadre said, "always for the underdog." ::         ELEGY How delightful he found     it to zip to and fro And square all the squares     off the road. Till the day on the freeway     he ran out of leeway And to'd when he ought to     have fro'd.         --JULIAN BROWN ::     IT HAS BECOME a kind of game for the young men who pilot the jungle boats at Disneyland to invent bright new lines for their spiels during the voyage.     As Paul Connor's boat passes the fierce, spear carrying Watusi warriors and the two skeleton heads on poles outside a hut, he says.  "The natives say they can tell a man's occupation by his appearance.  Take the skeleton-head over there that's still smiling -- they say he was probably in public relations." ::     IRVING ECKHOFF, who helps me watch over these things, was distressed at a headline in the Santa Monica Outlook.  "Wife Stabs Bob Crosby in Spat!" Ecky , once a newspaperman himself, felt this was heresy.  As he sees it, people can get shot or stabbed in the scuffle, the melee, the corridor or even on the back porch; but the spat, never.      "The old ways are best," he said: "let's not have any more of these modern switches." ::     YES INDEED, it's getting brisk these fall nights and no one knows it better than the gas company.  A record-breaking 10,719 calls.  3,560 of them requests to "light the pilot," came into the central office Oct. 30 . . . Incidentally, winter arrived in Idyllwild last Thursday -- lightning, thunder and two inches of snow -- catching the folks without chains, anti-freeze or firewood.  Reminded Ernie Maxwell of an old woodcutter who always sums up such unpreparedness with, "A dollar short, an hour late, and headed the wrong way." ::     MISCELLANY -- Paul Dunlap defeated Les Tarr in the Irvine Coast Country Club golf championship but Stan Wood argues it would have happened if Les Tarr's partner, More Taste, had been around . . . The contracting firm doing an excavation job on Century Blvd. near the airport has posted Burma Shave signs stating, "We are not the stinkers that you think.  This storm drain is the missing link."  Helps keep motorists' blood pressure down during traffic tie-ups . . . Next person to remark that the cranberry situation has bogged down has to put on the dunce cap and stand in the corner.

Matt Weinstock, Nov. 11, 1959

A Dog's Life     Several weeks ago Glen Shahan's miniature schnauzer, Henry, developed a cough.  When it persisted, the veterinarian recommended that Henry's tonsils come out.  This was done but poor Henry continued to wheeze, and the other day Glenn, ABC TV publicist, took him back to the vet for examination.      "There's nothing more I can do," the vet said.  "The only thing now is to send him to Palm Springs for a week.  That ought to clear it up."     "You're kidding," Glenn said.     "Oh no," was the reply, "you just put him on the bus and I'll arrange to have him met and picked up in a station wagon and he'll stay in a nice, sunny place."     Glenn said he'd never heard of such a thing.     "It's done all the time," the vet said.     And the other day, when someone came by and asked what he was doing, Glenn replied truthfully, "Oh, I'm packing my dog's clothes -- he's going to Palm Springs for a week!" ::    THERE'S confusion in the cat world, too.  Kathy Mellon, 8, has a cat named Agamemnon, which sits beside her when she watches TV cartoons featuring fearless mice.  The other day Aga flushed a mouse in the kitchen, panicked, and ran into the living room.  Obviously Aga figured it belonged on the TV screen, nowhere else.  It's also possible Aga has his tigerish instinct through watching TV.  Happens to people, too. ::     INFLATION NOTE When food prices make     grumble I could starve with     no misgiving. As I die you'll hear my     mumble I can't bear the cost     of living.         --PEARL ROWE ::     ALLEN A. ARTHUR'S mind has been whirling since reading in a medical column that some people become temporarily deaf or mentally dull or get -- easy now -- headaches from taking too much aspirin.  It was the last line in the article that got him:  "Do you know what most persons do when they have these symptoms?  They take more aspirin."     Make mine hashish. ::     YOU KNOW those long silences that sometimes occur among even the most loquacious and erudite drinking gentlemen.  Irrelevance champion of the moment is a newsman who turned to a friend after a moody stillness and said, "By the way, what do you think of the Civil War?" ::     A NOTICE to members of a local lodge announcing an upcoming gathering in Las Vegas states, "Think of it! Three days and two nights in a strip hotel, parties, fun in the sun, etc."     As if the uncapitalized s in "strip" weren't enough, there's the provocative abbreviation, "etc." ::     AROUND TOWN -- A middle-aged man crossing 6th and Hill Sts. toward Pershing Square had three bobby pins keeping his bushy brown beard from becoming unruly . . . That fuss in the Shrine foyer during the intermission of "Carmen" arose when the special officer told a woman who had strayed there with a cocktail that drinking was permitted only in the bar.  She insisted on finishing it, so, the anvil chorus. ::     AT RANDOM -- After watching a TV space program pointing up Russia's moon picture, Brad O'Connor's daughter, 3, looked outside at the half moon and exclaimed, "Look, they even cut a piece out of it!" . . . Penciled scrawl on a brown paper bag: "I see where Mr. Nixon got his picture taken playing golf, too.  I wish the President and Vice President would shoot a game of pool now and then.  Three Cushion Mae" . . . Tom Lehrer , who quit teaching math at Harvard for a career as a music wit, explains, "I can always return to teaching for the fantastic salary of $3,000 a year."  He appears tomorrow at Santa Monica Civic Auditorium . . . End of an era note:  Henry Fukuba, attending the Farm Bureau Federation convention at the Statler Hilton, wanted some plain old shirt-staining ink for his fountain pen but there wasn't a drop in the joint.  But plenty of ball-point pens.

Matt Weinstock, Nov. 10, 1959

The Satirizing Americans     The persons probably most amused by the movie and TV stereotype of the American Indian are the scores of Indians themselves now working in industry in the L.A. area.     Many of them take a quiet delight in satirizing the phony characterization.  Among these is Carl Gorman, technical illustrator at Douglas Aircraft's publications department in Lawndale.  [Note: Gorman was the father of Native American artist R.C. Gorman -- lrh].  Gorman is also well known for his paintings of Indian life and Arizona desert scenes under his Navaho name, Kin-Ya-Onny-Beyeh.     It is frequently necessary for supervisors and coordinators to hold policy conferences, which may cancel or change work already done.  Not long ago the brass had their heads together in spirited debate and the hired hands, watching from a distance, feared the worst in revised plans.  One workman, Frank Terry, brightly suggested that maybe they were discussing a promotion list.     Carl went into his Indian act.  "Much noise, much wind," he mocked solemnly, "but no rain." ::      A PHYSICAL education teacher at a junior high school in San Fernando Valley was instructing a class in basketball and while explaining the rules, placed her hands on one girl's shoulders to demonstrate overguarding and asked, "Now, what foul did I commit?"     "Togetherness," a smart girl named Stephanie replied, breaking up the proceedings. ::     MIDNIGHT HOST Life is a midnight host Who gives us a hasty snack And then when we're gone Suppresses a yawn And never invites us back.     --RICH FLOWER ::     AGAIN Joe Marshall, manager of what he contends is the zaniest construction company in town, doesn't know what to do about the help.     Not long ago one man refused to drive the orange pickup truck.  He said the color attracted bees, which found him tasty.      The other day Benny Branch was spraying the interior of a building while a helper held an extension light.  "Throw the light on the floor," Benny said.  "OK," the assistant said, and did, breaking the bulb.     If they'd just whistle while they work, Joe broods, instead of all that crazy stuff. ::     A SERVICE MAN finished filling the vending machine in the Police Building with cartons of milk, locked it and left.  When he returned half an hour later a trusty was waiting for him.  "You left your money box here," he said, "so I took it to the property room for safe keeping."  A trusty, in case you forgot, is a prisoner who does odd jobs around the station. ::     EVERYONE, it seems, is sadly contemplating our imperfect world, finding little that is comforting and conveniently blaming others.     Over coffee, J. Farrington Barrington Arrington, the sage of Bunker Hill, became thusly eloquent: "The canopy of innocuous desuetude continues to descend over the contemporary scene.  The dynamism has gone out of the individual and a rigid retrogression has gripped society."     "I think I know what you mean," his wife said, "it's drink and be merry for tomorrow is uncertain -- judging by the beer cans and empty bottles in the hallway trash boxes." ::     AROUND TOWN -- As Charlie Park was leaving the Coliseum Sunday with about a minute to go in the Ram game there was a tremendous roar from the crowd.  A man walking nearby observed, "They must be hanging Sid Gillman " . . . Speaking of football, no truth to the rumor the entire UCLA football team is named Smith and all other names were changed to protect the passer . . . A radio announcer giving a commercial for a dramatic school said the faculty is made up of "the topmost cream of the upper echelon of the TV industry."  Than which there is none plus ultra . . . Be wary of Hatton Hulett .  He sidles up and asks, "Will the ball park look like a nudist camp when the Dodgers play next summer? After all, they'll be playing without Dressen."

Matt Weinstock, Nov. 9, 1959

Those Quizzes     Clearly it's no more possible to control the gags about the quiz show scandal than it is to control the mushrooming scandal itself, and the other day a group of coffee break philosophers of my acquaintance got around to the subject.     A man named Marvin contributed the subversive thought that in addition to handling out its annual Emmy awards next year the television business should offer a special Ananians award, on the occasion of which the band should strike up with "Pony Boy."     A cynic named Jerry suggested a Stoolie award, but he was quickly smothered on the grounds that this was strictly a police matter.     A MAN NAMED PETE compared Charles Van Doren's ordeal with that of thicker-skinned politicians caught with soiled money in their hands.  What this country needs, he argued, ineffectively, is a measuring stick for corruption.      Away from the coffee percolator, Seymour Mandel keeps remembering the pompous business with the armed guards, the trust company executives and the sealed envelopes.  He is intrigued with the thought that while the show was on nobody at the bank watched the vault.     Bob Cole thinks it would be appropriate for the networks to re-run the quiz shows this summer with the title, "Watch My Lyin'".     And so on. ::    THE HEARINGS also reminded Victor Borge of the time in 1948 that he flunked his big quiz -- his citizenship examination.     He was doing fine until the L.A. immigration officer asked if he could ever become president.  Borge, born in Denmark, knew the answer but overwhelmed by a frivolous impulse replied, "I don't plan to run for president because I have too much to do.  Besides I doubt if anyone would vote for me."     The interrogator not in the mood for humor, said coldly, "The right answer is that you cannot be president because you were not born here.  Come back in three weeks and try again."     Chastened, Borge, now performing in Las Vegas, returned three weeks later and passed the exam. ::     WHILE TUNED IN to radio station XERB, waiting for the race results, an Olive St. horseplayer became entranced by a woman astrologer who warned certain listeners to be careful between now and next March because of adverse influences in their birth signs.     The horseplayer was so impressed that he repeated the information to a friend, only he put it this way:     "So this dame says you got to play it cool until everything is downhill and shady with Saturn again and Mars gets Jupiter off its back." ::     A MAN WHO applied for a job with a big firm was briefed on procedure and assured he would be called in a few days.  When nothing happened he phoned.  He was told, "We have you on our available list."       "I am glad to hear that," he said, "but I don't know if I'm going to be that available."     These are the conditions which prevail. ::     JAMES A. MACLEOD, information officer of the British Consulate, who is being transferred to Munich, asked Tom Cassidy of KFAC which recorded version of the "Battle Hymn of the Republic" he considered best.     Tom recommended the one on the Library Of Congress special project titled "The Union,"  but was curious about the inquiry.     MacLeod said he wanted a copy to take along.  He added, "I think it best describes the American spirit and personality.  In fact, if I may be permitted to venture an opinion, I think it should be your national anthem.  After all, you know you don't have bombs bursting in air, old fellow." ::    AROUND TOWN -- Troy Garrison is worried about a new sign for the Golden Age Convalescent Home, showing a nurse standing behind a man in a wheelchair, at the foot of 13th St. in San Pedro.  An arrow on it points into the harbor's main channel . . . Add property tax outrages:  A man who owns seven acres of undeveloped land in Calabasas, representing his lifetime investment, received a tax bill of $835.  Last year it was $175.

Matt Weinstock, Nov. 7, 1959

The Fight Against City Hall Continues     It's an old adage that you can't fight City Hall.  Nevertheless, some people keep trying, whether they get anywhere or not.  Today's candidate for head bumping is Kenneth Reiner, who writes in a  letter to City Council:     "For the past several months citizens of Los Angeles have witnessed a struggle between the Department of Building and Safety -- which was determined to tear down a group of artistic structures called the Watts Towers -- and a band of citizens dedicated to their preservation.     "AT THE HEARING city engineers testified the towers could not withstand more than 1/12th the force of a 70-mile wind, the code requirement.  It was agreed to subject them to a load test, simulating the 70-mile wind.  The towers withstood the test with ease.  In addition, the test demonstrated that the city engineers had understated the strength of the towers by a ratio in excess of 12 to 1.     "For years we have been hampered by rigid codes compounded by arbitrary administration; as a result the development of modern building methods in Los Angeles have been stifled.     "The fundamental lesson to be learned is the need for revision of our code if our city is to remain abreast of advancing construction technology.  The time to make this change is now while attention is focused on the problem." ::     A MAN NAMED Bob went to see his doctor, who also has a patient Bob's father-in-law, a cantankerous old gentleman.  They were discussing the old boy's eccentricities, particularly his resistance to modern ideas, when the doc said, "He certainly has a whim of iron." ::     STAREY NIGHTS Our technical knowledge     and our skill Created a monster, gri-     macing and hideous, In turn, it has bent us to its     will, Creating a race of be-     dumbed televidiots.         -ED LYTLE ::     ONLY IN L.A.  --  Eli Ressler, KNXT news cameraman, was waiting for the signal to change at 3rd and La Brea when a  Rambler rammed his 1959 Cadillac in the rear.     Not only that, the irate driver rushed up and exclaimed, "There out to be  a law against big battleships like this menacing us drivers!"     Ressler pointed out he'd been stopped and the other guy had smacked him.     "That makes no difference," was the reply.  "these big cars shouldn't be allowed on the streets!"     So, another one for the insurance companies. ::    ONCE UPON a time, Mattie Rae relates, there was a husband and wife team of taxidermists.  They worked happily together for many years but there came the time when the husband began to stray.  At first it was one night a week, then several nights, then week ends.     Finally the wife could stand the anguish no longer and she killed him.  She stuffed him neatly, dressed him in a comfortable outfit with smoking jacket and slippers, stuck a pipe in his mouth, a book in his hands and sat him in an easy chair before the fireplace.  Now she had him home and he was all hers and she was content.     In time the police discovered her stuffy performance and she was brought to justice.  She testified it was a natural instinct for a woman to want her husband by her side.  The judge called it justifiable homey side and dismissed the case. ::     FOOTNOTES -- The Red Cross here received a $50 contribution the other day from a Harry Sahl in S.F. with a note of appreciation for help given him by the L.A. chapter in 1919 -- 40 years ago.  He didn't state what the assistance was, merely apologized for his tardiness . . . Variety's only coverage of a certain headlined hegira was in its Who's Where column, as follows:  "Evelyn Rudie to Baltimore" . . . In announcing that the American Youth Symphony Orchestra will give its first concert tomorrow at Sun Valley Junior High, Victorde Veritch , music department head, invited students to come and bring their parents.  One youngster asked, "Do we have to bring our parents?"

Matt Weinstock, Nov. 6, 1959

Racing the Stork     A woman in the throes of becoming a mother was being driven to General Hospital by a  neighbor one night recently and as they reached the Civic Center it became apparent they weren't going to make it.     On a frantic impulse the neighbor swung into the parking lot of the City Health Building at 1st and Main Sts., and burst into the lobby seeking a doctor.  The building guards, James W. Payne and Aaron F. White, told him everyone was gone.     Informed of the crisis, one guard phoned the Receiving Hospital and asked what to do.  A doctor there said he'd send an ambulance right away, meanwhile to keep the mother warm and clean.      The ambulance arrived eight minutes later but not in time.  With the help of the two guards a lustily howling boy had been brought into the world and was wrapped in the final edition of The Mirror News, a matter which is herewith referred to the promotion department. ::     RETURNING HERE recently by plane from San Francisco, Gene H. Costin, playing-card firm executive, noticed the "Fasten Seat Belts" sign was kept on all the way although it was a smooth flight.  Just before landing he asked the stewardess how come.     "Psychology," she replied.  "Up front we have 25 sorority girls from Berkley going to L.A. for the week end.  In back are 17 Coast Guard enlistees."  The wolf whistles at the unloading platform proved what she meant. ::     QUIZZICAL REMARK These wealthy TV quiz     winners I view with emotions     mixed. Not having been on,     I'm well off. While they, it appears,     are well fixed.     --RICHARD ARMOUR ::    THE SAGA OF Evelyn Rudie reminded Peter Breck, TV Black Saddle man, of the thing that happened last Saturday when he performed in bull-whip and ax-handle duels with a stunt man at the Girl Scout Jubilee at the Sports Arena. Afterward a tiny Brownie came up to him and asked, "Mr. Breck, can you tell me where they keep the lost Brownies?"  Meaning herself. ::     NOT LONG AGO  I sent a query into the air -- how did Mt. Disappointment get its name?  Now it has come back answered, by Jo Ann Metzenheim of Altadena.  She found the explanation in an article written by Frank J. Coleman in the book "Pasadena in the Gay Nineties," as follows:      “Hiking to Mt. Disappointment with Switzer one day, I asked him how the peak got its name.  He replied, 'I'll show you when we reach the top.'  On the summit, as other hikers will remember, was a cairn of loose stones.  From a covered can which he took from an opening on the side, he handed  me  a U.S. engineers report which read as follows, as I remember it: 'We approached this range from the west and thought that this peak was the highest in the range.  After an arduous climb, we found that it is not the highest.  Therefore, we hereby name it Mt. Disappointment.’ ” ::     ONLY IN L.A. -- A cleaning shop on Broadway near Manchester has the eye-catching sign.  "Will fur-line your Dodger cap for winter wear". . . When she sat down to lunch the other day, Ena Skvarla , deputy county clerk, was chagrined to discover she'd brought a bag of garbage.  In hurrying to work she'd put her lunch, packed in a similar bag, in the garbage pail and, you guessed it. ::     AT RANDOM -- A gal prevailed upon her long time boyfriend to help her move to a new apartment.  After an hour of hauling furniture and boxes, he said, "Honey, why don't we get married so I won't have to do this stuff?" What a dreamer . . . Recommended listening:  Errol Garner's version of "Misty," a fine tune, also done admirably by Johnny Mathis.  A few more like this and there'll be  a breakthrough to sanity in music, away from r&r . . . Following a discussion of the TV quiz show scandals, lawyer Frank Crowley, as an afterthought, gave his secretary, this memo: "However, it is not true that Van Cliburn uses a player piano."

Matt Weinstock, Nov. 5, 1959

The Tax Bite     Tuesday was the day of the big blow.  No, it wasn't windy.  It was the day the tax bills hit the fan.     The resultant moans have ranged from low and plaintive, tapering off into controlled disgust, to massive indignation, accompanied by a fierce resolve to do something about it.     Property owners were warned their tax bills would be raised but the blow, as always, caught them unprepared.     A woman who lives in a rundown industrial section in southeast L.A. was dismayed to find her taxes had been increased from $100 to $190, give or take a dollar.  She said sadly, "We simply won't eat for two weeks.  I mean it."     WHEN THE MASTER OF A HOUSE in South Bel-Air came home for dinner Tuesday he was served a big steak with all the trimmings.  "What happened?" he asked.  "Did you hock the family jools?" "No," his wife replied, "we just got our tax bill.  This is your last supper."     A lady in Westchester said, "My taxes are up more than $60 and I read that our officials are seeking new ways to raise revenue..  Does it ever occur to them to cut expenses?"     Apparently not. ::      EVERYBODY'S cutting up television since the quiz show scandal, and now a mother wishes to unload her beef.  When she reproved her 6-year-old boy for the mouth-stuffing, eye-rolling, lip-smacking manner in which he was eating his cereal he replied, "That's the way the kids on TV eat their cereal!" ::     INSCRUTABLE SKY Twinkle, twinkle, little star, Are you what we think     you are? Or is your twinkling     starry light A short circuit on a     satellite? --LLEWELLYN MORGAN ::     A CALL WENT OUT over the police radio Tuesday that Erwin Mathias Walker, 42, escaped mental patient, was having breakfast at Ave. 35 and Eagle Rock Blvd.      This paper's news team, Bill Kiley and Bob Martin, covering an auto accident nearby, rushed there in time to see a man wearing a blue jacket and gray pants, as described in the radio call, come out of the restaurant and walk to a bus stop.     In a few minutes the area was swarming with gendarmes.  One asked Bill, "See anyone?"  Bill pointed to the man at the bus stop.  Guns drawn, the officers closed in on him.     The poor guy, wondering what was going on, edged slowly away, like Buster Keaton retreating from a villain in an old movie.     It was, of course, a false alarm.  Walker, object of a state-wide search since his escape from Atascadero hospital last Saturday, was captured by a hunter Tuesday near San Luis Obispo.     But the stalking job on the suspect on Eagle Rock Blvd., to hear Bill and Bob tell it, was as nervous as anything you'll ever see on "Richard Diamond." Still another panel you’ll never see in the legacy version of “Peanuts.”  ::     IT'S THAT TIME! -- Arthur Wenzell,  who goes back to the days when people in his business were press agents, not public relations counselors, has sent out his Christmas cards . . . Tiffany & Co. has an ad in the New Yorker for  a ruby and diamond necklace for $18,700 and earrings for $7,200.  Of course, prices include federal tax . . . For the Christmas trade Capitol is bringing out a record by a vocal group known as Dancer, Prancer and Nervous.  Yep, singing reindeer.  So you've been warned. ::    MISCELLANY --     Bud Baker of KBIG says he knows a fellow who thinks Vat 69 is the pope's telephone extension . . . Speaking of unusual pets, Patricia Cason reports her cat is appropriately named Skitzophrene and her father and son dachshunds are Hurkemeister and Squizmar.  Furthermore, she insists both can say, "I'm hungry" . . . Connoisseurs of the grim ending get an eyebrow raiser in "Odds Against Tomorrow."  A policeman  seeing the remains of Robert Ryan and Harry Belafonte, who hated each other in life, after they are burned beyond recognition in a  tank fire, asks, "Which is which?"

Matt Weinstock, Nov. 4, 1959

Confused Stranger     Let us stipulate that people are rushing into the L.A. area at the rate of 640 -- or is it 704? -- a day and it is inevitable that there are strangers in our midst.  Now proceed.     A confused woman came into the Thrifty drugstore on the northwest corner of Wilshire Blvd. and Canon Dr. and asked what bus she should take to get to Hollywood.      A clerk directed her to cross the street, walk to the corner, take an eastbound bus and get a transfer.     "Why can't I stand on this corner," she asked, "and take the bus going the other way?"     "You can't," was the reply.  "That'll take you to the ocean."     "Oh really," she said, "what ocean?" ::     ABOUT 5:30 p.m. last Thursday a woman and three small children stood at the door to get off a streetcar  at the next stop.     When the car came to a halt the two children, about 5 and 2, stepped off but the doors closed before the mother, carrying a baby, could step on the door-opening pedal.     The woman called to the operator to stop but he paid no attention.  The other passengers, excited at the prospect of the two children left in the street in the cold and dark, shouted for him to stop but he increased his speed.  By this time the mother was crying and pleaded with him.     Finally he stopped, far past the spot where the children had been left.  The last the passengers saw, the woman, baby in arms, was running frantically back toward them.  One passenger, aMonterey Park woman called Elaine, was deeply disturbed.  "Let's not bring little Rock to Los Angeles," she says.     The mother and children were Negroes, the operator was white. ::     RIGGED Halfback Harry was     expelled; Our school is not the same. Halfback Harry had to go- He was coached before     the game.     --MILTON J. FRANK ::     BECAUSE Chicago's Midway Airport was ceiling zero, Erskine Johnson's plane, along with 30 other Chicago-bound transports, had to land a few days ago at Indianapolis for what was announced as a three-hour wait.  Soon the airport looked like a movie mob scene, with passengers groaning over cancellations and haggling over switching flights.     A large irritated gentleman, anxious to be off to his destination, got into a loud argument with a TWA ticket clerk.  Getting nowhere, skinny Johnson reports, "This is impossible!  I want to talk to your station master!"  The railroad melody lingers on. ::    FURTHER EVIDENCE that man has not quite conquered the skies came as an Eastern Air Lines plane settled down for an instrument landing at a storm-bound Midwest city.     "Fasten your seat belts," the hostess said, "and cross your fingers." ::     NOT LONG AGO a boy about 9 waited in line at the West Valley public library to return an armful of books.  When his turn came he asked firmly for 12 cents.  For what, the astounded librarian asked.  Well, he'd heard her explain to the lady in front of him that she showed 3 cents a day for each overdue book and he figured it worked both ways.  Inasmuch as he was returning his books one day early the library owed him a dime and two pennies.  The librarians are still smiling. ::     HALLOWEEN echoes are still reverberating.  After two hours of trick or treating Kenny Kovitz, 7, came dragging home and examined his loot.  There amidst the candy, gum and cookies was a pack of Tums . . . Hugh O'Brian had to be away over the weekend so he set up a recording device at his Benedict Canyon home.  When someone rang the doorbell his voice said, "I am not at home.  Please help yourself to some candy in the mailbox."  Very little was taken.  The youngsters probably thought it was a ghost talking . . . By the way, many people are saying they're going to turn out the lights and pretend they're not home next Halloween.  Too many big kids from other neighborhoods.