Lenny Bruce and Nieson Himmel Couldn’t Have Been Less Alike

Two articles in the July 18 magazine couldn’t have featured two more disparate subjects: Nieson Himmel (“The Real L.A. Confidential,” by Miles Corwin) and Lenny Bruce (“A Car, a Trumpet, a Comedy Icon,” by Julio Martinez).

In the mid-’50s, I’d just returned from a four-year work-and-travel trip around the world when I took a job with the L.A. Herald-Express. There I met Himmel, already one of the best reporters in Los Angeles--a friendly, unassuming little guy always ready to help a newcomer. Over the years, he never changed. He deserved Corwin’s fine article.

Later, living in Hawaii, I read that Bruce’s act was causing quite a stir on the mainland. When he appeared in Waikiki, my wife and I decided to attend. We sat stunned at what sounded like a foul-mouthed kid spouting obscenities--not funny, not clever, just senseless garbage. We left within five minutes.

Charles F. Queenan

Encino

*

I can understand why Julio Martinez was not favorably impressed with Lenny Bruce, but I’d like to offer another perspective. I saw Bruce perform early in his career (at Cosmo’s Alley in Hollywood), at his zenith (at the Hungry Eye in San Francisco) and toward the end (at the Music Box in Hollywood). He was brilliant. To appreciate the level of that brilliance, try listening to his two great albums: “I Am Not a Nut, Elect Me!” and “The Sick Humor of Lenny Bruce.”

Roxane Winkler

Sherman Oaks

*

Nieson Himmel, arguably the last of L.A.’s great street reporters, was an eyewitness to the evolution of L.A. journalism, from the late 1940s, when five dailies competed for hard news, to today’s electronic news gathering, where media helicopters hover over freeway chases and drive-by shootings. He was a good reporter and a good guy, and we’ll miss him.

Cliff Dektar

Valley Village