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Berle Boy Really Lets Himself Go

Sunday, March 18, 1945                                 THE MILKAUKEE JOURNAL –SCREEN and RADIO Berle Boy Really Lets Himself Go When He Gets All Wound Up With His Dizzy Jobs, Sandwiches Bring Relaxation; Their Effect Is Only Temporary By Irving Spiegel THE BERLE roared into his abode. It was a serene apartment in upper 5 th av.—of pastoral oils, soft lights, draperies of subdued color and row on row of books giving off a philosophical aura. Mrs. Milton Berle —the beauteous Joyee Matthews—greeted him. His galoshes spattered a mixture of snow and mud on light colored rugs. Mrs. Berle winced and the draperies rustled. The Berle puffed on a cigar of billiard stick length. He bellowed for a sand-vate telephone number known only by 4,000,000 friends and acquaintances and a legion of upper Bronx prospective gag writers. A Berle follower had said: “Maybe if you corner the guy in his apartment he might have a couple of rational moments.” It was

Radio Gagsters Won’t Laugh By Jack Sher

Sunday, January 7, 1940           THE MILWAUKEE OURNAL –SCREEN and RADIO       11                  Radio Gagsters Won’t Laugh By Jack Sher MILTIE BERLINDER, aged 7, stood in front of the mirror in the Berlinger’s Bronx apartment making faces. He knitted his eyebrows furiously. He seriously studied his image in the mirror. He knitted his eyebrows furiously. He decided it was pretty good. Papa Berlinger put down his paper, pointed a long finger at Miltie and addressed Mama Berlinger. “Lookit our boy.” He wagged his head disapprovingly. “All day he’s gonna stand there and make monkeyshines in the mirror?” Mama Berlinger wagged a finger back at papa. “So if Miltie wants to make faces, it hurts you? Leave him alone. Something will come of this.” “From such foolishness comes nothing,” Papa Berlinger replied and went back to his paper. Miltie turned from the mirror and shuffled across the room. Mama Berlinger began to chuckle. “Miltie,” she laughed. “Just like Charl