Paul Sann Journalism, Letters, Writings

May 11, 1958

ONE MAN'S DIARY--Bear with us, please:
birdye

Made the 6:17 to Spuyten Duyvil, dashed up the 106 steps to the love nest, reached the taciturn old doll at 6:51. Said hello, old doll. She said something about getting the car radio fixed, something about the broken TV set, something about the accelerator on the car, something Rose Franzblau said to her, something that happened at a WAIF luncheon at Sardi's, something Max Youngstein said, something about the boy getting an 80 in a Spanish test, something somebody said about the girl looking so nice. Ground to a halt at 7:39, looked at us, and spoke as follows:
"Well, what have YOU got to say?!? How come you never tell me what's going on at the office any more?"
So we withdrew to our quarters, locked the door, and put some old Ink Spots records on the turntable.

* * *

September 28, 1958

ONE MAN'S ORDEAL--This is entirely personal and you can skip it if you live alone.
birdye

She has a drive-in closet spacious enough to accommodate the Budapest String Quartet (assuming this combo would play in a closet, of course.)
Our closet holds our suit, some old blue jeans, a few Western-style dress shirts, an old tennis jacket and some string ties and boots.
Now listen to this:
She found a bathrobe of ours hanging in her closet, just that one bathrobe, and went into a small rage.
"Bones," she screamed, "get your damb wardrobe, out of my closet."
So we did. What else was there to do?

* * *

November 23, 1958

HELLO, YOUNG-LOVERS--Ever have one of those starlight Indian Summer nights when you can't wait to get to her side?
It happened to us the other night, and the details might as well go into the permanent record.
We were so ridden with the mood that we bowled over some women, children and dogs vaulting out of the Glenbriar elevator and ran the whole 1/4-mile to the apartment.
birdye

The doll was in the kitchen in one of those flowing black-and-gold lounging robes (you couldn't even see her big feet), so we threw off our greatcoat and swept her up in our hairy, athlete's arms.
We were murmuring the most endearing words neatly mixed with phrases from Rodgers & Hammerstein (well, we thought we heard music in the background) when the limpid eyes of the Duchess met ours and she spoke in those sultry, silken, come-hither tones of hers:
"It's nice to see you on time for a change, Bones," she said. "Take out the garbage."
In a way it broke the spell.

* * *

January 18, 1959

ONE MAN'S ORDEAL Suppose you slept like an innocent man and your dreams were filled with fame and glory?
Suppose you dreamt you were the Marlboro Man (tattooed ALL over) and the man whose name Cavanagh pasted in his hats and the man in the Burberry and the man on the White Horse in the booze ad and the man in the Hathaway shirt (no eye patch, though) and yes, even the man who never had to carry more than $50 in cash because his pockets (Ivy League) were simply bulging with American Express travelers cheques.
birdye

It happened to us, at long last, and that morning we jumped out of bed feeling like a million dollars (in travelers cheques) and whistled "The Star-Spangled Banner" while we dressed. Then, ready to dash joyously to the factory, we looked at the sleeping beauty between the quilts and we felt so wonderful we leaned over and kissed her
And what happened then?
The doll turned, acres and acres of her in black lingerie (Alexander's, Fordham Road), scowled through half-closed baby brown eyes, and spoke as follows:
"Hitler, you gonna be good today?"
Now why would a wife say that?

* * *

June 7, 1959

HOME, SWEET HOME--A girl toiling in Washington for the Daily News pored over the State Dept. document entitled, "Social Usage in the Foreign Service," and extracted this note about protocol on the striped-pants circuit:
birdye

"The proper way for a wife to speak of her spouse, strangely enough, is 'my husband.'"
That is a strange fact, isn't it?
In the time of our lives together, which is a heluva long time no matter how you look at it, Daphne has called us Hitler, Fatso, Bruce, Marlon, Bones, Fido, Pierre, Skinflint, Big Daddy, and other things. Never called us husband once, not even in company.

* * *

August 9, 1959

FOR HUSBANDS ONLY--This is a simple statement from the very perceptive Rev. Gordon Girling of Enfield, England, shot around the world by UPI and quoted here without embelishment of any kind:
"Our experience in life tells us that the ideal wife does not exist, which means that those of us who are married have to be satisfied with something less than the perfect wife. "
The photo at the left shows a typical American wife.

* * *

August 19, 1959

SEMI-PRIVATE--Did you catch the one in our paper about the moonstruck husband over in Jersey who took a paid ad to proclaim his enduring love and devotion?
birdye

"After 10 years," Herbert Hindin said (but at the classified rate, which is very low), "I am still happy to be responsible for the debts of my wife, Sybil."
You know, Herbert, we would like to take out a small ad about our Sybil, too, but the papers won't accept it. Don't like the wording.

* * *

March 20, 1960

ONE MAN'S ORDEAL We were feeling just great, see? Tennis all winter, a little basketball, not too much juice during working hours, no outside broads, a solid five or six hours sleep every night, the happiest pills, etc.
So suddenly the babe is on the phone.
"You have a date with the doctor at 6," she said. "I'll meet you there."
"What date? I didn't call any doctor?"
"I know," she said, "but I've been feeling jumpy and irritable lately, so I thought you ought to have a check-up. I called the doctor. See you at 6."
Ridiculous, no? But old Paul isn't easily pushed around. Didn't get to the doctor until 6:10.

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