Apple Duck's Travail

He was always perturbing somebody. During the war it was U.S. brass hats and the Japanese Empire indifferently, though in different ways. But carefree Marine Ace Gregory ("Pappy") Boyington never caused himself any perturbations. Two months ago he gave himself a new chance to feel qualms by becoming violently enamored of a blond ex-movie actress named Mrs. Frances Baker. This might well have disturbed a lesser man--for until he met Frances, he had been under the impression that he was about to marry a Mrs. Lucy Malcolmson. But Pappy resigned himself happily to the new turn of events.

He drove to Reno--where pretty, brunette Mrs. Malcolmson was divorcing her husband on Pappy's behalf. She didn't seem to understand. Pappy found himself giving her a three-carat diamond engagement ring. That wasn't all--after Pappy beat a strategic retreat to Los Angeles, Mrs. Malcolmson called in reporters and announced that she was to become Mrs. Pappy Boyington within a week.

Whistling Wolf. Smiling reminiscently, Mrs. Malcolmson told how the chunky, bull-necked fighter pilot had acted when he saw her for the first time in Bombay, India. "He let out a wolflike whistle, started toward me, tripped over a rug and landed with his arms around my knees." Mrs. Malcomson was not charmed. But when she boarded the S.S. Brazil to be evacuated to New York in 1942, Pappy was aboard too, armed with soft words and a case of Scotch. When she got on a westbound train, Pappy turned up again. "I fell in love with him...."

The U.S. press, which dotes on a hero's true love, hailed Mrs. Malcomson as a modern-day Penelope. Reported the New York Daily News: ACE BOYINGTON TO WED GIRL OF "BLUE YONDER" DREAMS.

Pappy promptly entered a righteous protest: "She hypnotized me." Then he instructed his lawyer to inform Mrs. Malcomson's lawyer that there would be no wedding. Hurriedly he bundled Frances off Las Vegas, got married before a justice of peace.

This set off a wonderful long-distance debate. Cried Mrs. Malcomson: "He told me we were going to Peru together and I sold my house in New York. He wrote a letter to my husband and said we were going to get married. My husband stopped my allowance. I am virtually penniless.

She also displayed a series of telegrams which she had received from Pappy as she traveled westward to Reno. They ended with the phrases, "All my love," "Love you," "Love you so darn much," "Love you, darling" and "Love you, apple duck."

$18,000 Question. Pappy was still undismayed. Back in Los Angeles again, he carried his bride across the threshold three times for news cameramen, served reporters double bourbons, and fired back: "Any romance I carried on with Mrs. Malcolmson was carried on by mail. I had overseas nerves." And what, he wanted to know, had happened to the $18,000 in property and allotment checks he had given Lucy in trust for his three children by a former wife?

In Reno Mrs. Malcolmson cried, "I'm speechless!" This was an exaggeration. "Pappy knows darn well what happened to his money. I spent a lot of my own taking care of his kids. And was kneeling in church with me to pray for the success of our marriage a 'by-mail' romance?"

In Los Angeles the new Mrs. Boyington mused: "I wonder if our married life will always be this exciting?"

Pappy, relaxing in pajamas and dressing gown, said: "I'm through talking for free." Then he reminded newsmen that he would soon start a lecture tour.

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