Argosy, September 1955 — page 21: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

a STAR OVER FRISCO. in radio announcing a while ago, but now I’m studying movies this year. Maybe I can get to be a director some day.” When he looked up, Pearl wasn’t disappointed, just surprised. “ I’m _ a sandwich man at Owl’s,” he said. “Oh,” she said bravely. ‘“‘ Well, anyway, I’ll bet you could Bane a radio announcer if you really wanted. You have a very distinguished voice.’ “Good sandwich men are hard to find,” he said defensively. _ “Tt isn’t everybody can keep up at rush-hour, not getting the otaae mixed up who want mayonnaise instead of thousand as ‘land— “Oh, sandwich man!” Pearl smiled. “I thought you meant tl ose men who march up and down all day with boards on, _ saying where to eat at.’ 4 ~ Oh no, I’m not in the publicity end. In fact, I hardly ever _ get a chance to contact people in person. Like you in Long _ Distance,” he said, “ I’m back in the pantry practically all day.” She reached over to squeeze his hand in understanding. a aptaeag he said, “ ‘There’s all kinds of tricks in the trade— _ you know, little things that give you a lead on the other fellow. _ Like how to stretch the tuna salad when it’s getting low...” “How do you ?” Humphrey shifted uncomfortably. __ “* Oh, if it’s a trade secret I guess I shouldn’t ask.” i He smiled gratefully, then suddenly realized what was wrong _ with his sandwich. He eagerly opened it, or what was left of it. “Now, take this ham salad special here, ” he said, “it’s spread nice, and it’s trimmed O.K. But it’s got the wrong kind of - pickles He’s using vinegar. It should have been sweet pickles, _to bring out the flavour of the ham.” Gee . . . I’d never spot a thing like that in a million years.” Humphrey shrugged modestly. _ When they left and had been walking for a little way, he suddenly said, ‘‘ You add some potato salad.” “What?” Pearl said dreamily. “You know, what you asked. ‘To stretch the tuna salad.” __ Now they turned up Stockton Street, where late lamps leaned over them like benevolent moons. The tunnel swallowed them, _ magnifying their linked footbeats; emitted them into the sudden a of Chinatown. Mysterious shadows moved around them, asking the pad of sandalled feet, the flickering of distant braziers. There were spices in the air, and shrimp and duck - blood. 3 - Pearl pressed closer, Humphrey walked taller. And then, in that old way no man can unravel, halfway between the Fook aT). Lala K ee ) re ne’ - te Comuiclooks.Coh) ae .