Nov. 20, 1962 - A steadily rising comic in New York City is a slight, bespectacled, unhappy-looking man of 26 named Woody Allen (pictured). He has hunched shoulders, an air of harassment, a carefully cultivated nebbish quality, and a line of patter that, for a change, makes no reference to President Kennedy and his family. Having successfully furnished material for such performers as Sid Caesar, Art Carney, and Garry Moore, Mr. Allen has now decided to become his own spokesman. He approaches the microphone on the unadorned platform at The Bitter End, a Greenwich Village coffeehouse, as though he were afraid it would bite him. As it turns out, he is afraid of many things. Grotesque hazards, which he explores in a wildly amusing narrative, stalk Mr. Allen 24 hours a day. He confesses that he carries a sword to protect himself from nocturnal attacks, to which he is peculiarly subject. “In case of danger, I press the handle and the sword turns into a cane, so I can get sympathy.” However, when the police arrive, they take the thug’s side. Mr. Allen will be at The Bitter End five weeks for anyone who is interested in watching a rising young comic develop into an established young comic.
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