Matt Weinstock, Feb. 25, 1960

 Feb. 25, 1960, Elvis

Mad Memories

Matt Weinstock     The prohibition era (1920-1933) was a long time ago but to many persons it remains the most unforgettable time of their lives.  It had for them an aura of pleasurable deviltry.
    It also provided the setting of the rise of gangsterism and lawlessness, but that's another story which can be seen regularly on TV.
    Last weekend some people in Laurel Canyon who revere the memorable past invited 40 guests to an old-fashioned home brew party.
    THEY PROCURED a big crock and the makings from one of the several markets around town which stock them, and put up four batches — 56 quarts — of the bubbly stuff.  In their case, being somewhat on the sybaritic side, they used wild rice instead of malt.
    The hostess reports that 48 of the 56 bottles were consumed and  a fine time was had by all.  And after the imbibers downed their first jug the same old silly smiles that she remembers from 1928 came over their faces.
Feb. 25, 1960, Elvis     Only one mad moment occurred.  A writer moved over to a group where a surgeon was describing a particularly grisly operation he had lately performed.  The writer, unaware of the narrator's identity, was appalled.  Afterward he asked in deep concern of the man standing next to him, "Is he a doctor?"  Assured that he was, the writer said, "That's a relief!"
    SPEAKING OF home brew, a large lady in a Glendale Blvd. bar announced savagely that she would be a prime murder suspect if she ever located her spouse.
    "Don't say that, ma'am," Leo the bartender said, "we're all gentlemen here!"
    At which, Frederick Keller reports, she looked around and snorted, "Gentlemen! Why, this looks like the second Appalachian meeting!"
I always liked my game
    of chess,
My play is quite meticulous,
Chessmen are supposed
    to move
But this is most ridiculous.
     MONDAY Bob Simmons, 30, of Bellflower, a phone company employee, went scuba diving with two friends off a deserted beach about two miles south of Laguna.
     They had swum out past the breakers when Bob had difficulty clearing his face mask.  He became exhausted and tried to head for shore.  His companions went on, not knowing of his distress.  His wife, Cindy, saw from the beach that he was in trouble but no one was around.
    Just then three young couples on a picnic arrived.  Told of Bob's plight, the three youths, about 18, rushed fully clothed into the 10-foot deep water and pulled Bob out.  A woman nurse happened by and gave artificial respiration.  Bob's heart had stopped.  Meanwhile, one youth ran to the highway and waved down a policeman, who summoned help.
    Bob, who was unconscious for hours, is going to be all right and his wife Cindy hopes the boys who saved him, the nurse and the officer may see this and understand how grateful they are.  In the excitement she didn't get their names.
    DR. Vierling Kersey, president of the L.A. College of Optometry, spoke on eyestrain at the California Optometric Assn. congress the other day and afterward held a press conference for high school newspaper reporters who were present. 
    In various ways they all asked the same question:  "If we didn't get so much homework, we wouldn't get eyestrain, would we?"
    Dr. Kersey, former superintendent of city schools, replied unblinkingly, "Are there any other questions?"
    AT RANDOM — Man I know received a token bottle of sweet-smelling stuff with this note from the press agent: "Only 72 hours ago the contents of this bottle, Arpege perfume, were succulent flowers peacefully basking in the warm sun of southern France.  Only three dawns have passed since they were plucked, processed and placed on your desk."  The next step is obvious.  You order it from your favorite supermarket . . . Bob Ritchey thinks people will look back on February, 1960, as the month they had to look twice at the headlines to see if they were about Caryl or Carole.





About lmharnisch

I am retired from the Los Angeles Times
This entry was posted in Columnists, Matt Weinstock, Rock 'n' Roll. Bookmark the permalink.

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