Movers & Shakers

Henry L Mencken, the high-flavored sage of Baltimore, was right in there with Edmund Wilson. A Canadian book firm owned by the United Church of Canada suddenly stopped distributing Mencken's Christmas Story--a timely tale of a bunch of bums who could not resist singing hymns when they got drunk. Decided the firm: it was "not a suitable book for us to handle." Mencken readily agreed: "I simply can't imagine anything so ribald being circulated by ecclesiastical publishers."

Perhaps the most startled author of the week was brooding Eugene O'Neill. He has "Seraphic Sex Appeal," an artists' agent named Leora Thompson told the press. She put him in a special beauty class with Symphony Maestro Dimitri Mitropoulos, Tyrone Power, General Omar Bradley, and Irving Berlin. "It seems like a light from the cosmos shines in their eyes," said she. "Sanctified sex is what it really is."

From Germany, and in the Army's custody, a couple of almost forgotten ex-newspapermen arrived in Washington, D.C. : for wartime broadcasts from Berlin, roly-poly Robert H. Best and hawklike Douglas Chandler were finally to be tried for treason.*

Elliott Roosevelt's conversation was getting in the papers again and making people unhappy, but the latest tempest was a baffler. In Warsaw, reporters fought to see him to check up on something he had been heard to say. They finally won an audience. Declared Elliott: he had positively not given an interview. He had just made a conversational remark. What it was all about: he had said that he "liked Poland very much."

A conversation between Joseph Stalin and Harold Laski, reported in London, was more illuminating. Stalin was worried about the U.S. election, said he, because he knew no Republicans. "You know Eric Johnston," reminded Laski. "Johnston," said Stalin, "doesn't count. He doesn't talk like a Republican."

In Britain's House of Commons, the art of conversation had hard going. Bookish Food Minister John Strachey (The Coming Struggle for Power) tried to interrupt a speech by another member, who suggested he "wait until I have finished." Retorted Strachey: "Keep your temper." Objected Conservative Sir Gifford Fox: "Surely that is not a ministerial expression. . . . Take your hands out of your pockets and sit down." Shouted Strachey: ". . . schoolboy stuff !" The Speaker finally got a little quiet. "There is tea being provided," he announced, "in the corridor outside."

Royalty

George VI turned 51, but quietly, except for a salute of guns in Hyde Park at noon, another later on at Windsor Castle, where there was a small, private party. The official celebration, as usual, would be at garden-party time on June 14.

The Duke & Duchess of Windsor & their clothes went dancing in the ballroom of Manhattan's Hotel Plaza, achieved the classiest photograph of their visit so far--he in white tie & tails and a boyish grin, she in a rustly formal with a sort of dorsal fin (see cut).

Just Folks

A fellow could learn a lot just by keeping his ears open:

The British cinema's ranking male idol, James Mason, explained why he was so popular in nasty-tough roles: "It's because there's a taste for sadism, especially in the post-war period."

Shirley Temple, married a year now, gave the girls some matronly advice on picking a husband. "Sincerity comes first," said she. "Pick a man who looks straight at you; not one who looks at the floor when he talks. . . . Then, pick a man who has the will to work. Looks do not matter. ... If a girl's family has money, let her be sure he is not marrying her for that."

"A sense of humor," announced Edgar Bergen, clearing up an old question once & for all, "has nothing to do with intelligence; it's something you develop."

A fellow could also learn a few things just by moving in the right circles, though some people learn faster than others:

Cinema Hard Guy George Raft, who had been getting the full treatment from Columnist Westbrook Pegler (who disapproved of Raft's associates and felt that Raft was just about as black as the movies painted him), suddenly had a little trouble with a 50-year-old attorney named Edward Raiden. Back before Christmas of last year, charged Raiden, he had been sent to Raft by 19-year-old Betty Doss to recover some finery which Raft had given her and then yanked back. While one of Raft's friends held him, the attorney complained, Raft gave him a shellacking, and then kneed him. So now Raiden sued for $300,000. Commented Raft: "That's pretty good, but I don't know what it's all about." Neither did she, said red-haired Miss Doss.

Tommy Manville took care of his briefly missing eighth wife as soon as she returned home (on their first anniversary) by having her thrown in jail for disorderly conduct. "The minute she got in she started raising hell," he complained. Two days later she was given a suspended ten-day jail sentence, put on probation for six months, and ordered to stay out of the playboy's house.

Flesh & Blood

Jaundice put master tapster Ray Bolger in hospital, closed Broadway's Three to Make Ready for the time being.

Virus pneumonia put Cincinnati symphonist Eugene Goossens in hospital in Dubuque, Iowa.

Flu hit Tenor Richard Tauber, canceled a Manhattan recital.

Diabetes was making U.S. Tennist Billy Talbert (see SPORT) a special sort of hero in Australia. Amazed that he had been taking daily insulin since he was ten, admiring Australians showered him with fan letters, flocked to watch him practice, wondered how he did it. He figured exercise was good for him (burned up the sugar). One time during a match he suffered an insulin reaction, popped a sweet into his mouth, went on playing.

Winners

General Douglas MacArthur got the French Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor, in Tokyo.

Singer Marjorie Lawrence got the Legion's diamond cross, in Paris.

Playwright Thornton Wilder, for his help in planning combined operations in the Mediterranean, was made a Member of the Order of the British Empire, in Manhattan.

American Veterans Committee Chairman Charles G. Bolte, 27, was chosen a Rhodes Scholar in the first group picked since 1939; of the 48 tapped, all but five saw war service.

* Poet Ezra Pound, only other U.S. citizen brought home to stand trial for treason, was adjudged insane, sent to St. Elizabeth's Hospital in Washington, D.C.

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