Matt Weinstock, July 29, 1959

July 29, 1959, Rigid

"Great Scott! I've Kept You Rigid for Almost Two Hours! Why Didn't You Stop Me, Miss Simmons?

Body Surfers

Matt Weinstock It appears that
Bob Lee, who, as reported here, was knocked down by an unidentified
object, which turned out to be a young man, while wading at Newport
Beach, has cast a slur upon a noble sport, body-surfing — riding the
waves to shore without benefit of boards, water wings or other
appurtenances.

"In the old days," B.G. of Wilmington writes, "before the shoreline was filled with feather merchants (turistas)
and the beaches were cluttered by breakwaters, the sport was wonderful.
Now we practice it at the mercy of every wave jumper. I am a native and
I have been playing the surf for 30 years, taking time out to eat, of
course, and have yet to be struck by a body surfer. However, my
husband, also a native, recently had four stitches taken in his chin to
repair the damage caused by an idiot who attacked him with his thick
skull. These people should get out of the way before they really hurt
someone."

NOW THAT the subject has been introduced, let
us get to the business at hand, the funny thing that happened to writer
Jack Quayle on the way to shore at the Alamitos Bay peninsula.

July 29, 1959, Sunset Strip He rode a big wave in from far out with Darr
Smith and, as the roller deposited him on the sand, he discovered in
disgust that he had lost his upper plate en route. The word of the
disaster spread and body surfers, a clannish lot, converged and spent
the afternoon combing the ocean bottom. They didn't find it but they
kept bringing Jack pieces of shells and flotsam and asking if that was
it. One well-wisher pointed out that Jack, should he be attacked by a
shark, stood the chance of getting bit by his own teeth.

Upshot
was that Jack had to get a duplicate set, a financial blow. But the
same day he found a check in the mail. A story that had been making the
rounds for three years had sold to a magazine.

Tune in again for further clues to literary success.

::

IN THE VIEW of Jeanne Weston, Hillsdale
wasn't the only champion at the Hollywood Park meeting. For her money,
a little old lady from Boston in the next seat deserved equal billing.

One
time the woman asked a neighbor how long the track was. A mile, he
replied. "It can't be," she said, "they are having a mile and a quarter
race."

Discussing a certain horse she asked, "Who's driving
him?" He patiently explained the men who rode the horses were called
jockeys.

In analyzing another horse she looked at her program and said. "Oh, I wouldn't bet on him, he's wearing a very heavy jockey."

::

July 29, 1959, Sunset Strip

PUBLIC AT LARGE — Let us not bother further about longest words. The Germans, Felix DeCola says, are way ahead of us. For instance, waffenstillstandsunterhandlungen — 32 letters — which means armistice negotiations. And schutzengrabenvernichtungspanzerwagen — 37 — meaning tank, literally "rifleman's
trench-destroying armored wagon" . . . Darlene Tucker nominates for
oblivion the TV scene showing a graveside funeral at which the sheriff
puts his arm around the widow and says, "He wouldn't want you to cry" .
. . Seymour Mandel tells of a fellow so broke at the end of the month,
he tried to pay his Diner's Club bill with his Bankamericard.

::

ONLY IN L.A. —
The biggest attraction at Dodger games at the Coliseum, Clark Roberts
avers, is a fellow who roosts in a front row seat near third base and
tries to trap foul flies and hot grounders with a butterfly net.

::

 

AT RANDOM — Japan's latest contribution to the auto world, the Daihatsu,
was unveiled the other day in Hollywood. It's a pickup type
three-wheeler with the single wheel in front and will do 40 m.p.h. with
a 900-lb. load, gets 65 miles to the gallon and costs $985. Just the
thing for hauling hors d'oeuvres to guests around a swimming pool . . . A resident in the 20000 block of Parthenia St. in Reseda — unimproved with deep ruts — has put out a sign, "Next time take the train" . . . Bob Bowden reports a Volkswagen on Ventura Freeway with a bumper sign, "You have just been passed by 36 h.p."

About lmharnisch

I am retired from the Los Angeles Times
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