Faces & Figures

Gary Cooper, for the "wonderful shape of his head, his size and his simplicity," won the top spot on a list of the "ten handsomest men in the U.S." picked by Boston Sculptress Katharine Ward Lane. The other nine:

Philip Merivale, for "a burning quality and a tragic cast to his face."

Rear Admiral Richard E. Byrd: "most attractive, particularly for his small, aristocratic features."

Gregor Piatigorsky: "Marvelously proportioned, though massive."

Fredric March, for the "serious sincerity which he exudes, and for his beautiful wide brow."

Lieut. General Mark Clark: "I love his long nose; he's a definite American type."

Raymond Massey, for his "marvelous frame and bony structure, and a very expressive face."

General Douglas MacArthur: his "classic, regular features make him seem much younger than his years."

Cary Grant: "a versatile as well as handsome man. He can be interpreted in many different ways."

Paul V. McNutt: "a very good-looking person with a well-balanced head. . . ."

Just failing to qualify was "a very similar type" to McNutt, but with "slightly heavier features": Secretary of State Edward R. Stettinius. Sculptress Lane added that she thought most men not worth more than a five-second look.

Youth & Beauty

Cornelia Otis Skinner, 43, co-author of Our Hearts Were Young and Gay, monologuist daughter of the late tragedian Otis Skinner, complained that U.S. youth is a much overrated commodity. Decrying "all this fuss over youngsters . . . like the Hollywood starlets," she explained: "In France, an actress isn't worth her salt until she's 50." Youthful Cornelia hopes to take her monologues overseas, because "there are plenty of intelligent people among the G.I.s. . . . They get a little tired of the Powers-model stuff."

Ernie Pyle, off to the Pacific, waved a public farewell to "That Girl" he left behind, Mrs. Ernie: "She is still, by remote control, my guiding star. She thinks everything I do is wonderful. She even thinks I'm beautiful, which is the only flaw in her judgment."

Richard Rodzinski, 15-day -old son of Artur Rodzinski, amiable, well-publicized conductor of the New York Philharmonic-Symphony, broke into the news himself when 16 members of his father's orchestra welcomed him home from the hospital with an apt lullaby: Wagner's Siegfried Idyll (written in 1870 to celebrate the birth of Wagner's son Siegfried). Mrs. Rodzinski was "so surprised" by this musical flourish that she burst into tears; young Richard slept soundly through the whole show.

Dorothy Lamour, swivel-hipped cinema sarongstress, announced that she was taking off her famed flowered wraparound, would be dressed to the teeth in her new Masquerade in Mexico. She burbled: "I feel like a school girl getting her first formal."

Bernarr ("Body Love") Macfadden, 77-year-old physical-culture crusader, had his life's work described as a bunch of "crackpot ideas" by his wife, Mrs. Mary Macfadden. Sued for divorce on charges of cruelty after a separation of 14 years, Mrs. Macfadden retorted that she had never liked his using their children (five girls, two boys) as "guinea pigs in carrying out his experiments on health, sex and social conduct."

Sharps & Flats

Harry Truman got back his family home when he and his brother laid out $20,000 in cash for the 87-acre home site of the 287-acre farm where they were raised in Jackson County, Mo. (His 92-year-old mother, defaulting on some $4,000 interest due on a $35,000 loan, lost the property in a sheriff's sale in 1940.) Three days later, the Vice President dropped around to the National Press Club Canteen in Washington, knocked out impromptu accompaniments for Hollywood's slow-burning sensation, Lauren Bacall, who sang, in true torch style, from a perch atop Truman's piano (see cut).

Tommy Dorsey, bespectacled trombonist-band leader, known to his fans as the "Sentimental Gentleman of Swing," sweated through a practice session with Leopold Stokowski, in preparation for a long-haired debut--a Concerto for Trombone and Orchestra to be played with the New York City Symphony. Said he: "I've never worked so hard in my life. ... I hope they like it. ... Now if it were the Arcadia Ball Room or Roseland. . . ."

Serge Koussevitzky, famed conductor of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, who has sponsored more music by contemporary U.S. composers than any other top-rank maestro, proposed that, after the war, each of the 48 states sponsor a symphony orchestra of its own. Predicting a "great future" for U.S. music, Russian-born U.S. Citizen Koussevitzky said: "I hope that Government officials will consider a symphony ... as necessary as a new bridge or ... improved road. Spiritual food is sometimes more important than physical assets."

War & Peace

Andre Malraux, leftist French novelist (Man's Fate, Man's Hope}, veteran of the Spanish Civil War and the 1940 Battle of France, was still in the thick of it -- leading his own 4,000-man F.F.I, army in the fighting near Strasbourg. Ranked a lieutenant colonel in the French Army, 49-year-old Malraux, who was once punch-drunk with politics, is now soberly concentrating on military matters: "I cannot see why we French must be so occupied with politics while the Germans are still on French soil." Marlene Dietrich, wearing a fleece-lined, ear-muffed pilot's cap, paused in her U.S.O. tour of Belgium, braced herself for the usual souvenir-snatching. To A.P. War Photographer Peter Carroll, she said: "The airborne boys . . . asked for my garters. What do you want . . . my scanties?" Said practical Photographer Carroll: "No thanks, but I sure could use that cap. . . ." He explained: "I've got a cute wife back in Boston who won't think I'm so crazy." Lieut. Colonel William ("Willy") Wyler, peacetime cinema director (Mrs. Miniver, Wuthering Heights), wartime director of the combat film, The Memphis Belle, made his first visit in 15 years to his birthplace -- the city of Mulhouse in Alsace-Lorraine. There he was welcomed by Madame Henriette, fiftyish, manager of his late father's dry-goods store; she had somehow kept the shop out of Nazi clutches, courted death to salt away the war-year profits, handed over to astounded Willy Wyler $4,000 in French francs.

Said he: "No one will believe me when I tell this. . . . I'll be called a sucker who fell for another corny script."

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