Monday, Jul. 28, 1941
War & Defense
William C. Bullitt sent a box of food to imprisoned ex-Premier Paul Reynaud. "I cannot send you guns," he wrote, "but here is some butter." Crotchety old Bachelor James C. McReynolds, longtime Supreme Court Justice, "adopted" 32 British children, one Belgian. Dorothy Thompson arrived in England for a month's visit "to see my friends . . . for pleasure . . . to know what the British are thinking." Expatriate Novelist Kay Boyle flew across from Lisbon with her family of seven--biggest family the Clippers have ever carried. Hollywood's No. 1 private, Jimmy Stewart, was promoted to corporal. Heywood Hale Broun passed his physical exam, expected induction within a month. Robert P. Patterson Jr., son of the Under Secretary of War (see p. 28), turned up at Springfield Armory Arsenal working incognito as a machinist. J. P. Morgan gave Bundles for Britain the furnishings of the yacht Corsair IV, which is now in war service. Bundles will sell them for cash.
In a newspaper in Chicago, where the heavyweight champ's wife has sued for divorce, appeared the following ad: "Not resp. for debts cont. by anyone but myself, Joe Louis Barrow, 550 E. 61st St."
Off the Track
William S. Knudsen got back to automaking when a jalopy whacked the back side of his limousine at a railroad crossing outside Los Angeles. After 15 minutes of his expert repair work the other car limped off under its own power. Eleanor Roosevelt took a wrong turn in Bangor, Me., drove 88 unfamiliar miles out of her way, turned up at a dinner party just in time for dessert. Comedian Joe Cook sold his fabulous Sleepless Hollow, trick estate at Lake Hopatcong, N.J., complete with squirting telephones, rubber-legged chairs, golf-ball tree, a nine-hole golf course which has a hole-in-one hole. Billy Conn, the almost-champ, arrived in Hollywood with his new bride to start work together in a prizefight movie. Sam Goldwyn signed Lou Gehrig's widow to help film the late ball star's life.
Publicity Gag of the Week
Paunchy Henry Lewis Mencken as a ringmaster, balding Walter Duranty as a clown are two new attractions promised by Ringling Bros.' greatest show on earth next season. Ringling's insists it's on the level, that the writers put their names on the dotted line, but the best Mencken would say was "I'm meditating upon the offer," while Duranty said his own acceptance is "most improbable." Circusman John Ringling North started it over drinks in a Manhattan nightclub. His bid for Mencken was $12 a week, for Duranty, $11.
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