Jan. 15, 1958

No one wants to disillusion the
politicians, a high-minded group, but duty dictates that a conversation
between two fortyish women in the Crenshaw shopping district be
recorded.

When George Watkins first encountered them they were
eating hot dogs and waiting their turn at a table set up by a deputy
registrar of voters outside a drugstore.

Realizing the
processing was slower than anticipated, the more determined of the pair
said, "Let’s register after we go into the drugstore." The other said
OK.

THEY CAME OUT a few minutes later, eating ice cream cones, and the first said, "What are you, a Republican or a Democrat?"

"I don’t know," was the reply, "what are you?"

"I don’t know either," said the first. Then she said, "I got an
idea." She plucked a coin from her purse and said, "If it’s heads, you
be a Republican and I’ll be a Democrat. If it’s tails, I’ll be a
Republican and you be a Democrat."

The other said that would be fine and the coin was flipped.

Cringing slightly, George moved out of hearing range. He couldn’t take any more.

NO MATTER what
you hear to the contrary, it’s still a practical world. Louise Kay
Thompson, who operates an antique shop on South Sepulveda Boulevard,
reports that she has recently consummated the following sales: A wooden
potato masher to tamp garbage down the disposer. A tin trunk for a dog
bed. A big wooden salad bowl for a cat bed (so it won’t sharpen its
claws on the furniture). A tobacco cutter for chopping off fish heads
on a fishing boat. A workman’s lunch pail for a handbag. A large China
cookie jar for a bathroom wastebasket.

THE KIDS are
at it again. A young Rolling Hills mother says, "My 3-year-old girl
keeps running around, saying, ‘I’m a mashed potato.’ " How do I
convince her she isn’t?" … And Harry Cimring reports his 5-year-old
returned from kindergarten singing, "Joshua hit the bottle of Geritol,
Geritol, Geritol. Joshua hit the bottle of Geritol and the walls came
tumbling down."

BILLY PEARSON,
the jockey who won all that money answering questions about art on TV
quiz shows, has opened his own gallery in La Jolla, where he now lives.
However, a reporter trying to reach him by phone was told by the
operator there was no listing for him. The reporter finally got the
number from the Chamber of Commerce. And what is the name of the
gallery? Bill Pearson’s Fine Arts. Such is fame.

AVIATION WEEK has
an item datelined San Diego about the driver of a huge truck hauling an
Atlas ICBM from the Convair plant to Cape Canaveral, Fla., being
stopped and cited by a California Highway patrolman. The
charge–illegally using flashing red lights. So the driver kept them
off until he came to the Arizona state line, then turned them on.

We not only can’t (always) get our missiles off the ground, we can’t get them out of traffic.

AT RANDOM–Ruth
Anderson of San Bernardino doesn’t like the new dress styles either. As
she puts it, "Who’s the bag in the sack?" … Sudden irrelevant
thought: Wonder if Public Relations Consultants, 9235 W. 3rd St., ever
consult, seek counsel or communicate with Communications Counselors of
Inc. 8720 Sunset Blvd. Or vice versa … It must have occurred to
Walter O’Malley that we’ve got a pretty smart team of dodgers here
already … Anonymous message left on my typewriter: "Only one thing
was missing from Jayne Mansfield’s quiet little wedding–Elvis singing
‘O Promise Me.’ "