A great druggist died last week. A swatch of black crepe hung over the picture of little, round-faced Dr. J. Leon Lascoff in the Manhattan drugstore he founded in 1899. He was the dean of the old-fashioned U.S. pharmacists the proud little group to whom a soda fountain and its attendant Comus' crew are anathema.
Leeches for Fighters. In his saddened shop, a remodeled brownstone house on upper Lexington Avenue, twelve expert elixir and pill makers kept busy filling a stream of prescriptions which has now passed the 1,280,000 mark. Unlike most modern drugstores, J. Leon Lascoff & Son sells nothing...
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