Entrepreneur Builds Better Mouthtrap

Compiled by Dick Roraback.

Free enterprise, they call it, and Liberia-born Rosalind Lindquist has embraced the American dream with a vengeance. In her own variation of the game, Lindquist has indeed “built a better mouthtrap,” not once, but twice.

Lindquist’s first venture (with husband Lyle, who met her while serving in the Peace Corps) was Rosalind’s West African Cuisine, a popular restaurant on La Cienega. Now she is into the clothing business, designer of a forthcoming line of duds for the breast-feeding bunch.

“We were brunching out one day,” Lyle said, “when we noticed a young lady across the room who was breast-feeding. A man at an adjacent table said it was a ‘disgusting display.’ The guy, mind you, probably thinks nothing of spending $25 at a strip show, but this was somehow ‘disgusting.’ ”

Rosalind went home and immediately sketched out a design that would make the process more discreet for nursing mothers who felt “entitled to dine out, go to a ball game, a show, move around like anyone else.” The design--which has been patented--centers around an inner lining of material matching the dress and enabling the baby to nurse while the garment still covers the greater part of the breast.


“There’ve been other designs,” Lyle conceded, “but (1) they didn’t work very well and (2) they were made for someone who went to Vassar, grew up wearing Oxfords and shops in Larchmont. Rosalind’s dresses will be a lot more modern--for the yuppies, you might say. And the beauty part is that when the nursing period is over, the panel can be removed and you still have a terrific outfit.”

Great idea, but will it play in Monrovia? “In Monrovia,” Lindquist said, “who needs it?” MIA Relatives Sought

A nationwide search is under way for families and friends of the more than 78,000 American servicemen who never returned from World War II.

To gather information for an hour-long documentary to be presented on Veterans Day over the Public Broadcasting Service, Arnold Shapiro, an Oscar-winning producer and writer, is seeking mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, fiances and friends of those whose bodies were never recovered or identified and who were permanently listed as missing in action or unknown 40 years ago when World War II ended.


Titled “The Unknown Soldier,” the documentary will focus on servicemen from the four major branches of the armed forces and all theaters of battle, Shapiro said.

“We will interview relatives, friends and buddies who fought alongside these unknown soldiers to reconstruct the lives of these men from the time they were born, through their childhood, teen-age years, high school and military training up to their ultimate disappearance,” Shapiro said.

He is seeking persons of all ethnic groups to help reconstruct the lives of their unknown soldiers through mementos, personal letters and interviews.

Those with information may call collect to Stuart Schwartz, director of research, at (213) 460-5202 or write to Arnold Shapiro Productions, P. O. Box 500, Los Angeles, Calif. 90078.

True Grit Homemaking

For decades, Virginia Lee Retzinger of Reseda filled the role of homemaker with the zeal and compassion typical of that often unsung but always exalted profession. As all successful homemakers, she was cook, nurse, chauffeur, housekeeper, nurturer, tutor, wife, mother. In Retzinger’s case, though, the multiple role involved a little more, a certain--grit.

After attending Valparaiso University in Indiana, Retzinger married in 1946, then contracted polio in 1950. Able to get around only by means of crutches or wheelchair, she nevertheless raised 10 children after first organizing the family into a loving but structured unit: Her husband was “chairman of the board,” she herself was “executive director,” the children were “members of the board.”

By 1974, Retzinger had put her organizational skills to wider use, as an outspoken and highly effective lecturer, writer, editor, activist and general all-around spokesperson for the handicapped.


On May 19, Retzinger, currently regional chairman of the California Assn. of the Physically Handicapped, will finally take a break, and a trip to Valparaiso, where she will be awarded an honorary doctorate.

Wild, Weighty Weekend

Swiss almond ice cream. French fries. Pasta. Potato chips. You can eat ‘em all, at least over the weekend, and still lose weight claims Lois Lindauer, founder of the Diet Workshop and author of “The Diet Workshop Wild Weekend Diet.”

Bostonian Lindauer currently is on one of those 18-city author tours, spreading (perhaps a better word would be “disseminating”) her gospel, which includes consumption of special “food units” during the week, then a kind of restrained binge over the weekend. She’ll be in Los Angeles on Monday, and while we think we’ll pass this time, we would like to pass along part of the formula. Enclosed in the Lindauer PR packet was a packet of something called “The Diet Workshop Soup Break (Chicken)”:

It consists, among other goodies, of soybeans, carrots, parsnips, kale, chicken fat (!), yeast, kelp and rose-hips; it contains 20 calories, and it tastes awful .