Sixes & Sevens

Winston Churchill, to whom fellow-traveling Writer Louis Adamic sent a complimentary copy of his book, Dinner at the White House (Harper), returned the compliment by suing Adamic and the publisher for libel. He also demanded that the book be taken off the stands. Adamic, in describing fellow diner Churchill, had written of his "stubborn cranium," had called him "simultaneously honest and dishonest," "a very great leader and . . . also evil," and noted "the eyes and mouth which were shrewd, ruthless, unscrupulous," but just what Churchill considered libelous was not made public. The amount of damages was left up to the jury.

Mrs. Louis Swift Jr., whose husband is one of the porker-packing Swifts, got holy Ned from the Chicago Animal Welfare League for placing a pig in peril. She put a pig in a pen at the Galloping Hills Horseshow, and blue-blooded jumpers jumped in & out. Soon a humane officer turned up at the Swift mansion--"stormed into the house and was very rude," said Mrs. Swift. He got the gate. "There's no one who loves animals more than I do," cried Mrs. Swift to the press. "I wouldn't hurt that pig for anything--took him home all safe and happy in my station wagon when the show was over."

Mickey Devine, ex-showgirl who won a million-dollar divorce settlement from auto heir Horace E. Dodge Jr., lost a court fight with an old bodyguard named Mae Andrews, who complained that she had ten months' back wages coming to her. Mickey told the jury Miss Andrews was just a house guest who "stayed on & on." Not so, said Miss Andrews; she had been hired to protect beautiful Mickey during her million-dollar fight--hired to protect her from violence, frame-ups, and from her own strong bias towards the opposite sex. Among Miss Andrews' body-minding duties: to "get her interested in something . . . war work ... or ... some kind of religious activity ... so that her mind won't be on one subject." The jury awarded Miss Andrews her $7,810.

Down to Earth

Mrs. Emanuel Shinwell, wife of Britain's Minister of Fuel and Power, got a grip on her fag and cleaning rag and gave the world a great-man's-helpmeet-at-home picture that was really believable for a change (see cut).

The Earl of Halifax, who often talked of turning farmer after he was through being Ambassador to the U.S., was getting closer to the earth. The towering lord of Hickleton Hall in Yorkshire was moved by servant trouble and householder's headache to sell the hulking heap, plus a few of his many lordly acres, to an Anglican sisterhood (Order of the Holy Paraclete). The sisters planned to use it for a school building, and m'lord planned to move into the stable.

Lord Inverchapel, successor to Halifax, got close to the earth in Iowa. A farm boy who had met him in Washington invited him out home some time; the Ambassador took him up on it. For three days he bunked (in the downstairs bedroom) at a farm outside Eagle Grove, rode tractors, weeded strawberries, fed on meat and potatoes and vegetables and pie, dried the dishes. After he left for Washington, the Eagle Grove Eagle came out with the first extra in its history, ran six pictures of him in four pages.

Younger Generation

Crown Prince Akihito of Japan (Prince of the August Succession and Enlightened Benevolence) got together with his new enlightener, Mrs. Elizabeth G. Vining of Philadelphia (TIME, Sept. 9), for the big new adventure in learning. The adventurers looked pretty grim at the start (see cut).

Adrian Conan Doyle made considered reply to a recent Russian charge that his father's Sherlock Holmes was a nasty old representative of the private profit system. The reply, in effect: get up the royalties due from the sale of Sherlock Holmes books in Russia, please.

Manila! Gandhi, son of the Mahatma. observed the opening of U.N.'s General Assembly by trespassing on public land in Pretoria, South Africa (as a protest against segregation), got a choice of a $12 fine or 30 days in jail, chose the hard way.

Joel Kupperman, ten-year-old sharpy of radio's Quiz Kids, dropped in on the Assembly for a good hard look. His judgment: "I like Broadway. You can get coconut milk there."

True Romances

Love, in good or bad humor, was in fine voice last week.

The Connie Macks celebrated the end of a half-year's estrangement. Said the Philadelphia Athletics' 83-year-old manager: "We don't care to talk about it at all." But second Wife Katherine cared just enough to declare it was "wonderful."

The Frank Sinatras (separated only a few weeks) were reunited near center stage. Frankie, in a Hollywood nightclub to catch Friend Phil Silvers' new act, got into the act himself, as he gazed at the audience and sang Going Home. There he spotted Wife Nancy. "So he rushed down to her the minute he's finished," dreamily reported Comedian Silvers to the press later, "and I goes along and puts my arms around both of them. And then they go home."

The Tyrone Powers gave their busted romance the full Hollywood treatment. Power arrived in Manhattan from a Latin American air junket. That 'night his Hollywood studio formally broke the sad news: Power and Annabella had split, "definitely and with finality." Then Hollywood Gossip Louella ("Lollie") Parsons announced it herself: Tyrone and Annabella had just told her over the telephone from Manhattan. Actor Power then faced the Manhattan press, delivered the famous lines right on cue: "There is a conflict of careers. . . . But we are good friends."

Gene Tierney and Husband Oleg Cassini began speaking their lines almost before the curtain went up. "We have had a disagreement," Actress Tierney informed the world, "but we have not separated. . . ." Husband Cassini's heartbreaking report : "We've had a spat."

The finale was terrific. "A screen romance (The Razor's Edge) portrayed before the grinding cameras of a Hollywood movie set," one of the tabloids put it, "has swept sultry-eyed Gene Tierney and handsome Tyrone Power into a real-life love tangle. . . ."

Ha'nts

Primo Camera, heavyweight champ of 1933, who came back busted from Italy last summer to try to make another little pile (as a wrestler this time), now seemed quite happy as he twisted away at the leg of Bobby Bruns in Manhattan (see cut).

Jean Borotra, famed "bounding Basque" of French tennis in its salad days (circa 1929), bounded back to glory at 48, in London sparked the French team to victory over Britain, eight matches to four. But he no longer bounded gaily over the net with outstretched hand at matches' end--now he just pushed the net down and soberly stepped across.

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