Company Manners

In Hollywood and Detroit, art bowed to purity without a whimper.

Producer David O. Selznick, whose outdoors extravaganza, Duel in the Sun, had shocked moralists of several faiths, tinkered busily here & there, finally won from the Catholic Legion of Decency a "B" rating--meaning that the picture is now considered bad only in spots. Number of spots pared out: 46. But the costly, sure-fire Duel, Selznick assured the world, was practically as long as ever, and "its dramatic values and integrity have not suffered in the least."

When Detroit's policeman-censor threatened to close Eugene O'Neill's A Moon for the Misbegotten unless the actors stopped saying certain words, the words were just quietly dropped. Detroiters would no longer suffer the psychic trauma of: 1) "whore," 2) "bastard," 3) "God damn," 4) "son of a bitch," and 5) "blonde pig."

Past Masters

Paul Claudel, onetime Ambassador to the U.S., whose Tidings Brought to Mary hit Broadway some 25 years ago, was finally inducted into the French Academy, at the age of 78.

To George Bernard Shaw, who watches his diet, went a thoughtful tribute from Literary Heavyweight Gene Tunney, who also watches his: a shipment of nuts, apples, pineapples, dates.

Poet Stephen Spender had a new job. The tall,wavy-haired Oxonian was hired (for next fall) to tell the young ladies at Sarah Lawrence College, in suburban Bronxville, N.Y., about literature and philosophy.

Doris Duke Cromwell had a new job too. The richest-blonde-in-the-world, who did some fitful corresponding for the Hearst papers a couple of years ago (TIME, Nov. 26, 1945), was hired by opulent Harper's Bazaar to work in its Paris bureau. Her reportorial specialty: fine feathers. In a busy week, Heiress Doris was also chosen by M. Louis, a hairdresser of high principles, as one of the Ten Worst-Tressed Ladies in America. Sniffed Louis: "It seems as though all she does to her hair is comb it."

Ingrid Bergman was another on Louis' list. His horrid word for her coifs: "vapid." Miss Bergman scarcely knew what to think. Simultaneously, the smart-chart Town & Country published a full-page, seven-picture spread of Bergman hairdos, held her tresses up to its readers as "a shining example."

Middle-aged cinemaddicts enjoyed a pleasant flashback to the windblown-bob era. Clara Bow, now a rancher's wife and mother of two, made a brief comeback, of a sort. Handsomer to the camera's eye than she was in the blowsy 20s, the onetime "It" Girl regained the spotlight as a result of another woman's triumph. A listener who managed to identify Clara's voice in a radio contest won $17,590 in prizes (including an airplane, a refrigerator, an automobile, a furnace, a fur coat, maid service for a year).

Homebodies

Sold by the beauteous Duchess of Kent: household special-effects accumulated by the late Duke. The Duchess, now in smaller quarters, has no room for them. At auction in London, a Sevres china dessert service brought -L-609, a pair of porcelain vases -L-1,260, a walnut settee -L-1,785. Total receipts: -L-92,341.

Burned: a wing of the Archibald Roosevelts' home on Long Island. Smoke woke the 52-year-old Colonel--only surviving son of "Teddy"--at 5:30 a.m. Estimated damage: $15,000.

Burglarized: the Manhattan home of the Scripps-Howard papers' natty chief Roy W. Howard. Gone: two diamond bracelets, two diamond rings, some antique earrings--all the property of Howard's sister-in-law, who had left them with the Howards for safekeeping.

After Due Reflection

Dr. Charles Malik, Lebanese delegate to U.N., offered a little suggestion to his fellow statesmen: do not forget "the individual human person." Mused Philosopher Malik: "Who is this person? This person ... is the living, dying man, who suffers and rebels, is scared, makes mistakes . . . hesitates . . . gossips . . . even blushes and laughs. . . . This being ... is in danger of being drowned and obscured by ... systems. . . . We need champions of the mind and spirit. . . ."

Dr. Frederic Joliot-Curie, France's High Commissioner of Atomic Energy, claimed that making atomic bombs was as easy as rolling off a neutron. His recipe, in United Nations World magazine: "Imagine a sphere of Uranium 235 large enough to be susceptible to explosive chain reaction. Now divide it into two hemispheres each below the 'critical mass.' Place these ... at the two ends of a cylindrical tube. One hemisphere is fixed, the other mobile, so that an explosive charge . . . can cause it to slide swiftly into contact with the other. . . . When the two hemispheres come together, the conditions for explosive chain reactions are fulfilled. . . ."

Straight from the Heart

Tyrone Power, just home from a few pleasant months in Mexico City, helped wife Annabella pack her bags. "Any discussion of a reconciliation with my husband," recited Annabella precisely to the press, "must wait until my return in the fall." Then she was off to Paris.

Rita Hayworth, through work at last in a picture written, produced and directed by husband Orson Welles (co-star), said she was also through with Orson. Explained Rita: "I just can't take his genius any more."

Actress Laraine Day cleared up a little something that had puzzled people who have never been attracted to the Brooklyn Dodgers' Leo ("Lippy") Durocher. "What do I see in Leo?" echoed the Mormon-bred actress rhetorically. "I see a great charm--a great magnetism, and he doesn't drink or smoke, either. . . ."

Return Engagements

Burning-eyed Conductor Otto Klemperer, 61, who left Germany when Hitler was taking over, reappeared in Los Angeles. Seven years ago he had been operated on for a brain tumor. He had not had a steady job since 1941. Last spring he made a brilliant musical comeback in Rome, Milan, Paris. Last week he was found lying on a street corner just before dawn, his head cut and bruised. Two strangers in a nightclub had offered to drive him to another spot to hear some real jazz, said Dr. Klemperer, and on the way, they suddenly robbed him of $30, threw him out of the car.

Soprano Kirsten Flagstad was back in the U.S. for the first time since 1941, when she rejoined her husband in Norway (he died there in prison, charged with collaboration). She had sung neither in Norway nor in Germany, she reminded the Manhattan press; her conscience was quite clear. Yes, she had been criticized by some, but "I have not felt hurt with America." Indeed, she now meant to become a U.S. citizen. She posed for photographers with a scarf given to her in Italy by Arturo Toscanini's daughter; it bore the signature of the famed anti-Fascist himself. Once the Metropolitan Opera's leading Wagnerian soprano, Flagstad was off on a concert tour. She had not heard from the Met, she said.

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