My first collision with fame was hardly memorable.
I had something else beside a waiter\'s skill to offer my patrons, for I was also a writer..
I was a busboy nonpareil, with great verve and style for the profession, and though I was dreadfully underpaid (one dollar a day plus meals) I attracted considerable attention as I whirled from table to table, balancing a tray on one hand, and eliciting smiles from my customers.
I was twenty-one years old, living in a world bounded on the west by Bunker Hill, on the east by Los Angeles Street, on the south by Pershing Square, and on the north by Civic Center.
The place was Third and Hill, Los Angeles.
The year was 1934.
I was a busboy at Marx\'s Deli.
My first collision with fame was hardly memorable
