Jan. 14, 1958

Judges try not to smile, no matter how ridiculous the charade unfolding
before them becomes. Sometimes they hold back only with great
difficulty.

A woman seeking a divorce in Judge Burnett Wolfson’s court was asked on
what grounds she sought her freedom. She replied that, among other
things, her husband used obscene language.

The judge asked what it was. She said it was so foul she couldn’t repeat it aloud.

SO THE JUDGE asked her to whisper it to the court reporter, who in turn whispered it to him.

When her corroborating witness took the stand, she said also that the husband’s language was awful and couldn’t be repeated.

Then how, asked the judge, did she know what it was?

"Oh," she replied matter-of-factly, "we rehearsed it all before we came down here."


THE SENATOR Hotel in
Sacramento is traditionally the place where legislators, lobbyists and
people with expense accounts gather to make plans, discuss deals and
conspire generally for or against the taxpayers.

Well, the Senator gets out a daily mimeographed single-sheet news
bulletin and a few days ago it had this intriguing typo: "Sacramento
weather: Mostly cloudy. Occasional raid today."


MEDICAL SCIENCE may be aghast to learn of the experience of a West L.A. woman.

She was cleaning out her medicine cabinet and a bottle containing
sleeping pills fell on the floor and spilled. She though nothing of it
until she looked down and saw her dog, a poodle which will eat
anything, gulping them down. A few moments later the pooch was curled
up in blissful sleep.

Alarmed, she tried to rouse him. She got him to his feet, thinking to
make him walk off the effect of the drug, but his legs would wobble,
collapse and he’d fall down.

Then inspiration came. She forced him to swallow some Benzedrine
pills–pepper-uppers. After a while, the dog got up, dashed out of the
house and picked a fight with several larger dogs and came home with
wounds to prove it.

He is now back to normal.

THERE  WILL BE no ceremony on the City Hall steps, but today marks the 20th anniversary of a major event in L.A. political history.

It was on Jan. 14, 1938, an old-timer reminds, that a bomb exploded as
Harry J. Raymond, a private investigator, started his car, critically
injuring him.

It had been planted there by Capt. Earle E. Kynette, head of the LAPD intelligence squad, who went to San Quentin for the crime.

The blast blew the lid off a maze of intrigue and graft involving men
high in city government. Its repercussions  still can be heard without
benefit of wire-tap evidence.

Ironically, the gamblers and racketeers who were involved in the
conspiracy fled to Las Vegas, where they have continued to amass wealth
at the expense of visiting L.A. suckers.

The moral is clouded in the mist.


MISCELLANY — The typed
agenda for tonight’s meeting of the Inglewood Park Recreation
Commission lists as the only item of Old Business: "Architect’s
relocation of water closet in ladies’ rest room, Inglewood Recreation
Center"… Mike, the copy boy, reports seeing a 1950 Ford in North
Hollywood with a sign on its badly dented rear, "Please, Ladies–Not
Again!"… Let’s pretend we didn’t see the slogan "The Catillac of Pet
Foods" … Have you noticed the new firetrucks have wipers both outside
and inside the windshields? In case it rains on the inside, of course.