Yet another panel that will never been seen in the legacy version of "Peanuts." It doesn't go well on greeting cards and coffee mugs.

New Togetherness

Maurice
Ogden of Garden Grove has a fearful short story titled "Freeway to
Wherever" in the Southwest Review, depicting the tension and
apprehension that strikes a family trapped in the flow of traffic on an
unfamiliar freeway. It is painfully true to life.

Yet there was
the thing that happened a few days ago on Santa Ana Freeway. Two trucks
collided on the outbound lane during the eventing rush hour and traffic
was stopped bumper to bumper for almost an hour.

Jerry Smith, executive of the Montebello
YMCA, describes the scene: "Instead of popping their stoppers, people
dismounted and chatted amiably with neighbors. Some found books and
magazines in their cars and read. Considerate drivers on the inbound
lanes slowed to give us progress reports on what was happening ahead.
Those with radios turned the ball game up loud and repeated information
from helicopter reports. There was the feeling that we were all trapped
together and there was no use fighting it. Somehow I felt restored."

::

THE LANGUAGE
of smog becomes increasingly complicated. For a while all we had to
worry about were unsaturated hydrocarbons. Now it's the elusive olefin
that worries the smog chasers. And what is an olefin? As near as can be
determined, it's an unsaturated hydrocarbon.

Tune in next week for another chapter in the smog drama — a real tear jerker.

::

WAIT LONG ENOUGH –

The fashion's trend toward pointed shoes
May cause most girls to sing the blues,
I've found at last my tootsies' treat
For I was born with pointed feet.

–GLORIA SCHNEIDERMAN

::

APPARENTLY it's true that once an ad writer, always an ad writer. While reading a magazine, Dick Irving Hyland,
L.A. public relations executive, came upon a Hathaway shirt ad, the one
showing a snobbish looking fellow wearing a black eye patch, and the
old fever gripped him.

He outlined this idea: An Indian pointing
to a row of Madison Avenue types, all wearing eye patches, saying,
"They went Hathaway." He sent it off with a note stating he didn't
expect payment but his shirt size happened to be 17, his sleeve length
34.

In a few days he received a letter stating they loved his
idea but the present campaign was so successful they wouldn't dream of
changing it. In an enclosure, in appreciation, was a black eye patch.

Galloping Inflation

As all armchair horse players
know, bookmakers don't pay track odds. They limit payoffs to $60 for
win, $24 for place and $12 for show on a $2 bet. Of course, this takes
care of most wagers, but with hardenedhorse players it isn't the principle, it's the money.

Now
some bookies have cut the prices in half, paying $30, $12 and $6 on a
$2 bet and there's a roar of disapproval from the players. They point
out the bookies' average net is 20% of the handle — that's $200 of
every $1,000. They could pay track odds, the players contend, and still
make a substantial profit.

BOOKIES who have cut the odds
say it isn't so. They point out in rebuttal that accepting bets on
horses is fraught with peril. They say protection costs are mounting
and worse, protection is spotty and unreliable. In short, there's
always the risk of aknockover, which means attorney fees, bail bonds and perhaps going to jail.

The players scoff at this and there's talk of organizing the Amalgamated Assn. for the Protection of Horseplayers.

Now please pretend you didn't read the above. There aren't supposed to be any bookies.

Blind Justice Sees

While absent-mindedly
crossing a downtown intersection, an elderly woman saw the traffic
policeman at the corner coming toward her and realized in panic that
she was jaywalking and probably would receive a ticket.

She
lives in a little hotel nearby on an austerity budget and, not having
the money to pay the fine, she envisioned a stretch in thepokey.

It
was a moment to think fast, and she did. As the officer neared, she
leaned over with a quarter in her hand and apparently picked it up from
the street. As he came up to her she explained it was her last quarter
— this part was true — and it had fallen from her hand while she was
on the sidewalk and rolled into the street.

The young officer
not only accepted her story but added a coin of his own, cautioned her
about the dangers of jaywalking and sent her on her way.