His Is a Good Job

Last November, Frank Frohnhoefer’s
daughter Francine wanted something different to "share" at school, so
Frank, who did 27 months as an infantryman in the South Pacific during
WWII, went through his mementos and found some coins and bills from
Noumea, Fiji, New Guinea and the Philippines.

To his surprise
he found nothing from Tonga, where he went one time as a gunner on a
ship. So he wrote the Tonga treasury department, enclosed a $1 bill.

He has just received two four shilling notes of Tongan currency with a polite, friendly letter on official stationery from D.G. Urutian, assistant treasurer, Nuku’alofa, Tonga. And he has noticed a curious thing. The same signature is on the currency.

Clearly, things are very informal in Tonga.

WHILE DRIVING on La Cienega Blvd., Bob Bowden saw a car cut across the center line and crash into a car traveling in the opposite direction. He shuddered and went on.

Three days later he happened to go into a fabrics store on La Cienega
and, to his amazement, heard a salesman describing the accident to an
insurance adjuster. The salesman, whose car was hit, said despairingly
he had moved his car from the point of impact to permit traffic to pass
and now the other driver was claiming he had caused the accident. In
the absence of witnesses, things looked bad.

Bob introduced himself, said he’d seen the accident and offered to be a witness. Astounded, the salesman said:

"It’s a miracle."

JOY THROUGH FASTING
There is a destiny that shapes our ends
A dietary goddess in control
Should we be broke she doughnuts us and mends
Cholesterolic tendencies of soul
Our vitamins of Hershey bars she spends
Our careless nickels alimentary whole.
— R.W.A.

A
Hollywood writer decided recently he’d had all he could take of banging
out cliche-ridden TV scripts. Full of resolve, he put his television
money into a little bookstore which, he figured, would support him
while he worked on a long-neglected novel. But things haven’t been
going well, and he’s back writing TV scripts to keep the bookstore
going.

THE WEEK’S
most unsettling piece of reading is easily Time magazine’s report on
the telephone (245 million phone conversations daily in the nation) and
particularly an engineer’s dream of the phone of the future:

"Whenever a baby is born anywhere in the world, he is given a telephone number for life. As soon as he can talk, he is given a watchlike
device with 10 little buttons on one side and a screen on the other.
When he wishes to talk with anyone in the world, he will pull out the
device and punch on the keys the number. Then turning the device over,
he will hear the voice of his friend and see his face on the screen, in
color and in three dimensions. If he does not see him and hear him, he
will know that his friend is dead."

Gulp!

FOOTNOTES– Fannie
Hurst, in town for the opening of the movie "Imitation of Life" based
on her book, brought along her two Yorkshire terriers. Their names:
LilyPutian and Calla Lily . . . Since a geologist declared it unsafe,
you’d be surprised how many people driving north on Pacific Coast
Highway along the Santa Monica slide area hug the center lane . . . If
you see Roger Beck, duck. He remarks that he appeared on "Traffic
Court," then says, "And you know what happened to me on the way home
from the studio?" You say, "A ticket?" "No, I got a pizza," he says
anticlimactically. "I was hungry" . . . There’s a big hassle in Boston
over naughty girls. Someone dug up a 260-year-old law which prohibits
police from arresting prostitutes in public places unless they’ve been
under surveillance for three months. No problem like that here.