Golden Age of Radio

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