4.2.12 WC: 191694 club members lived across the street from the school, and so we would go to school wearing normal approved clothes, then immediately upon leaving school go to our friend’s house and change into our costumes. We felt like super heroes, but I was no longer jumping out of windows. Boro Park in the 1940s and 50s was not only a religious neighborhood; it was a funny neighborhood. Two houses away from me lived Jackie Mason. Around the corner was Eliot Gould (ne Goldstein). A few blocks away, in my uncle’s building, lived Buddy Hackett. Woody Allen grew up in a nearby neighborhood, as did Larry David. Joke telling among my friends was a competitive sport. (In those days there were new jokes because our parents and grandparents didn’t tell jokes—at least not to us kids, but older brothers were a good source.) We didn’t know anybody who actually made up a joke. Every rendition would begin with, “I heard a good joke,” or “have you heard the one about—the rabbi and the farmer’s daughter, or the rabbi, the priest and the minister?” (The rabbi always came out on top!) The first joke I remember hearing (and telling) involved a put-down of communist Russia. It was about the time the Russians wanted to one-up the Americans by ordering a large number of condoms 14 inches long. The Americans sent them the 14 inch condoms—marked “medium.” The jokes improved as we got older! Our favorite radio show was “Can you top this,” which involved professional comics who would try to top each other and listeners who submitted jokes. A “laugh meter” determined whose joke was funniest. There were cash prizes for listeners who topped the pros. The jokes told by panelists, such as Harry Hershfield and Joe Laurie, Jr., had to be spontaneous and related to the subject of the original joke. The panelists boasted that they knew 15,000 jokes among them. We would sit around the radio and try to top the pros. We would also send in our own jokes, which were never chosen. But we often though