IT WAS AN agonizing decision to grapple with but I couldn’t avoid it much longer.
Harold Segal wrote that there was, indeed, “room at the inn,” so I couldn’t use the excuse of no reservation for not attending the NAPA Centennial in Philadelphia. I had to put up or shut up.
I was already committed to attending the AAPA Palm Beach Convention in August. As a presidential candidate and Florida resident, I couldn’t very well not attend.
Now I had to face the expense of air fare to Philly, beer, motel bill, beer, banquet ticket… and more beer.
I just couldn’t justify spending the money; not unless my wife was willing to work two full time jobs. Personally, I resent having to work one full time job.
So off went the letter to Harold. No, I won’t be there, but give my best to all the gang.
To make matters worse, fellow Tampan Lee Hawes decided at the last moment to fly up to Philly for the fun and came back with glowing reports of a great blast. Oh well, maybe I’ll make it to the NAPA Bicentennial.
Employees at the Tampa Tribune-Times recently held an election to select the best looking person in each department. Regular readers of these pages will be happy to hear that I finished second in the 30-man platemaking department.
The other 29 platemakers were tied for first place.
“Ferd, mah back hurts so bay-yud, ah cain’t even lift a cay-yun of bee-yuh much less’n a chase full ‘o tahp.”
So spoke my old pal J. Ed Newman when I called him in Roanoke to ask why he wasn’t at the convention in Philly.
Uncle Jed categorically denied allegations that his absence was caused by fear of a confrontation with the Naval Person.
“Ah’d be happy to meet that bleep, bleep, bleep,” said JEN.
In search of medical relief, J. Ed has visited osteopaths, chiropractors and witch doctors. If all else fails, he plans to submit to the tender ministrations of Professor A. M. Lentz.
Come back, Jed… we miss you.
* * * *
My brother-in-law is so dumb he thinks a square knot is the speed of a raft.
The Good Old Days
The years are catching up with you if you can remember when: Jack Benny, Kenny Baker, Rochester and Don Wilson were sponsored by Jello on Sunday night radio… You told the operator what number you wanted instead of dialing it… Harold Teen, Buck Rogers, Andy Gump and the Katzenjammer Kids were regular features in the comic strips… Towns were connected with cities by railroad and the trains were pulled by steam locomotives… The Sunday paper, a beer, a shoe shine or a telephone call cost only a nickel… St. Louis, Boston and Philadelphia each had two major league baseball teams… Vincent Haggerty was an ajay godfather to young Babcock, Trainer & Segal.
A Supplement to National Calamity 21
“Har-rum-ph! Yas, well, ah-kaff, kaff,” muttered Professor A. M. Lentz, “This is the most difficult case ever to come to my – ah, um, yas – attention. Unfortunately, I – ah, har-rum-ph – have a full surgical calendar – ah, yes.”
And so it came to pass that J. Ed Newman put himself in the hands of a competent neurosurgeon who operated on his back. In our most recent telephone conversation, JEN reported that he feels 100 percent better and hopes to resume his publishing activity in the near future.
“Har-rum-ph! Kaff, kaff!”
Published by Fred Liddle, Tampa, FL 33606.