Motorist

Eleanor Roosevelt, who had dozed at the wheel of her new Lincoln sedan, came out of a three-way smashup with her appearance changed a bit but her sense of humor intact. Bowling down to Manhattan from Hyde Park she had crossed the white line, smacked one car headon, sideswiped another. Four people besides herself were bunged up. "I myself am quite well," she reported promptly in her column, "though for some time I shall look as though I had been in a football game without having taken any training. My eyes are black and blue. In fact, I am black and blue pretty much all over. If I tied a bandana around my head, I think I would resemble some of the Pirates of Penzance."

Two front teeth had been broken off "about halfway up," said she. "Now I shall have two lovely porcelain ones, which will look far better than the rather protruding large teeth which most of the Roosevelts have."

Jack-in-the-Boxes

To survivors from the '20s it seemed like Old Home Week:

Cecil B. De Mille (The Ten Commandments, King of Kings) said he planned to film Samson and Delilah.

Anita Loos, literary executor of the golddigger (Gentlemen Prefer Blondes), threw up her hands at the wild younger generation, came out for more parental discipline--"you ought to smack him in the puss." She considered bobby-soxers inferior to flappers. "The flappers washed their underwear," said she. "They were neat, sexy, appealing and clean. The bobby-soxers are gross . . . they are not alluring."

Ernest Thompson Seton, naturalist-writer-artist since everybody's childhood (Wild Animals I Have Known, Two Little Savages), had a good word for the young as he turned 86. He reported that "there are all kinds of youth in this day--mostly good."

Hon.'s

Interior Secretary Julius A. ("Cap") Krug, on a flying tour of Alaska, was banqueted with a difference when he dropped in on little Barrow, the continent's farthest-north town. Eskimos dined him in the schoolhouse. Specialites de maison: barbecued caribou, seal cheek, roast walrus heart, fried seal liver, candied whale meat.

Mayor William O'Dwyer of New York, who has received shamrocks from the Lord Mayor of Dublin, a painting from the Lord Mayor of Cork and Holland gin from the Burgomaster of Amsterdam, was still taking it--this time a dozen Banbury buns from the Lord Mayor of Banbury.

Congressman Lowell Stockman, towering (6 ft. 6) wheat farmer from Oregon, improved his leisure in Washington by conducting (incognito) parties of rubberneckers through the Capitol. He thought it might "improve my public speaking" and even teach him a few things. After a few days he reported it had done both; he enjoyed it so much he planned to stay at the job for another week.

Senator Glen Taylor of Idaho substituted for Columnist Leonard Lyons for a day, managed to fill a column despite a handicap. "To write a gossip column," he explained, "you have to be up and about among lively company. But I have been stuck in Washington for almost two years now and . . . talk is much more interesting in Pocatello. . . ."

Governor Ellis Gibbs Arnall of Georgia was among the latest politicos to turn author. His own book, out next November, would tell about the South as he sees it. Title: The Shore Dimly Seen.

Enthusiasts

Margaret Truman's "vacation" back home in Missouri turned out to be a summer of heavy voice study. Radio and concert work had been offered her, but she was setting her sights higher: opera. Bess Wallace Truman's daughter had already picked a stage name with the idea of not trading on her father's reputation, though doubtless nobody would be fooled. The posters would advertise "Margaret Wallace."

Field Marshal Viscount Harold Alexander, Governor General of Canada and leisure-hour painter, celebrated the joys of his hobby in the British Magazine. "As exciting as . . .hunting or stalking," said he. Among the high-ranking pleasures of oil paint: the "delicious smell." Confessed the Field Marshal: "I have fought many battles, and . . . generally been able to see. . . how the battle would develop, but when I am faced with a large white canvas. . . I suffer badly from the fog of war."

Guy Lombardo, sad-eyed maestro of unhurried dance music, stepped up his tempo and happily raced away with a water-speed title. At Red Bank, N.J., leisure-hour Boatsman Lombardo won the national motorboat sweepstakes. Next: a crack at the Gold Cup in Detroit this Labor Day.

Players

Martha Hodge, actress-daughter of the late Actor William Hodge (The Man from Home), took a moonlight dip at splashy Saratoga Springs without giving it even a first thought. In the small hours, after a long halt at a nightclub table, a couple of male acquaintances had taken to scuffling over the question of whether to go to bed early or late. Miss Hodge stepped into it and shortly was pushed into one of the fanciest ornamental fountain pools in all Saratoga (see cut).

John Carradine sounded more & more like his late friend John Barrymore. The gaunt, long-maned Shakespearian was trying to get out of paying alimony to his ex-wife--20% of his gross income. He was getting desperate, he cried in a Los Angeles court, he had even attempted suicide. Asked how, he reported: "Twelve double Scotches." The judge ordered him to go right on paying, and also to pay $8,207.36 in back alimony or go to jail.

Eddie Cantor, Joel McCrea and Comedienne Joan Davis had perfectly ripping luck, publicity-wise. They happened to be in a Hollywood cafe when a couple of hoods trotted in to beat up a gambler. One of the visitors kept the glowing celebrities at bay with a rod while the other gave the gambler ten deep cuts on the head with a blackjack.

Bluebloods

Princess Sukhodhaya of Siam, widow of the late King Prajadhipok and aunt of the late (murdered) King Ananda Mahidol, was in Manhattan on a visit, looked forward to some shopping just as soon as the mourning was finished. Special interests: ice cream and nylons.

Howard Hughes, out of the hospital five weeks after the crash of his experimental plane, took with him a brainchild that had come in handy. The multimillionaire plane designer now had a super-adjustable hospital bed with six adjustable sections and six cranks.

Walter T. Candler Jr., 38, grandson of Coca-Cola's late founding father, Asa, applied himself to a 90-c--an-hour job as a carpenter's helper in Miami. "I need the money," he explained. As for his father's Coca-Cola stock--"There'll be a lot of us to split it up among when he dies."

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