The Colonel among the Angels

After three weeks of droning around Central America in his Lockheed Lodestar, Colonel Robert Rutherford McCormick, his wife, a maid, a secretary and two pilots last week headed for Hollywood.

The Colonel remembered that Columnist Hedda Hopper, an employee of his Chicago Tribune-Daily News syndicate, had long promised to open his eyes if he would visit the gilded city. On his one trip to Hollywood, 15 years ago, it had rained constantly and he had since thought of the town, if at all, as a damp offshoot of the Land of Oz. But he still liked to have his eyes opened.

Hedda was hardly out of bed Thursday morning when aristocratic Publisher McCormick called. Breathlessly, she sounded the tocsin around town. A few calls lined up Loretta Young and others for lunch at Romanoff's (front booth). Others alerted the 20th Century-Fox lot. Still others set RKO-Pathe and the homes of Merle Oberon (cocktails) and Sam Goldwyn (dinner) in motion. At dinner, Mrs. Goldwyn's innocent remark, "Why, you're just as comfortable as an old shoe," caused the Colonel to start. Due to a luggage mixup, he was wearing brown shoes with his tuxedo.

Next day, the Colonel addressed a 100-man luncheon given for him by Los Angeles Times Publisher Norman Chandler. With the mien of one accustomed to command, and the hypnotic oversimplification of a Tribune editorial, he explained the Greek crisis, e.g., Roosevelt allowed events to get out of control and now look at them. Then, as de facto boss of the Illinois G.O.P., he viewed party chances for 1948. "I don't think they're very good," he said. "The New York banks will control the Republicans again and run some stooge against Truman. ... It looks as if Bricker and Taft, both being from Ohio, rather cancel each other off. . . ."

After the lunch, the Colonel had only one major hurdle left--Hedda's command cocktail party. Columnist Hopper had worked swiftly and with care. She had screened out Charlie Chaplin, Orson Welles and others politically repulsive to the Colonel. Walter Wanger had declined the invitation. But the 130 names circling the glass-enclosed room overlooking Hedda's swimming pool were as glittering as any ever mobilized by Hollywood on such short notice--Olivia de Havilland, Deborah Kerr, Gary Grant, Irene Dunne, Frank Sinatra, Lana Turner, Tyrone Power, etc., etc.

As he left the hors d'oeuvres table for the last time, Bertie McCormick was most appreciative. "Hedda," he said, grandly, "a wonderful party."

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