School days, school days, good old fashioned rule days, reading and 'riting and 'rithmetic, taught to the tune of the hickory stick.
That's like-a way out now, man. Nowdays they put 'em in kindergarten and tell 'em to hit the pad.
So long dear friend TV show "New Breed," I ain't agonna watch you no mo!
The murder story was interesting and I waited anxiously for the ending when the LA lawmen would nab the New Yawk killer. But I about flipped, when as the killer drove away, the announcer said "be sure to watch next week for the exciting climax!"
Phooey! Back to Bachelor Father.
There was a time when almost everytime the TV was switched on the program was a shoot 'em dead western, the type in which the star player fights them all, shoots his pistol 20 times without reloading and ends up saying goodbye to the good looking gal.
Now, it seems that 87th Precinct, Cain's Hundred, Naked City (one of the best) and New Breed occupy the pleasant evening viewing hours.
For those who watched the show narrated by Emmet Kelly, the sad-faced clown, recently, you saw one of the best.
My favorite part of the show was the slow motion trapeze artists. Those folks who saw that stair-stepped act with the girl on the chair on top saw the famed Wallendas, the same artists who fell at Detroit the other day.
News-Press darkroom work and offset plate making jobs on the second floor of the Press Printing company have been made choice duties.
Mrs. Raymond Marsh, wife of the N-P janitor, just about slays we upstairs workers with her baking but all the suffering paid off the other afternoon when she felt sorry for Max Moyer and myself and served us hot slices of homemade bread complete with butter.