We Love You, Louella!

Like the elements of a plutonium bomb, Hollywood and the Hearst press came together one evening last week for a stupefyingly colossal testimonial dinner. The super-guest of super-honor: Hearst's Hollywood Gossipist Louella Parsons. TIME Correspondent Dwight Whitney, braving the flashbulbs and the boneless squab, wired this report:

For fear or favor of a gushy, 55-year-old woman who frequently misspells their names, some 800 of Hollywood's most powerful personages sat meekly among the papier-mache monkeys and silver-lame palm trees of Hollywood's Cocoanut Grove. Such well-established stars as Clark Gable and Gary Grant allowed themselves the liberty of not attending.

Rival Gossipist Hedda Hopper, of course, was not invited, and old William Randolph Hearst couldn't make it. But his good friend Marion Davies came. She slipped through the celebrity-hungry crowd, held apart by police lines, shortly after 8. ("Miss Davies' radiant beauty," trilled Hearst's Los Angeles Examiner, "was accentuated by an Anthony Blotta original of white mousseline de sole. . . .") With a toss of her head, Miss Davies announced ringingly: "My God. what a party! Why don't they always give parties like this?" She was led to a table precisely in the center of the room.

Then Louella entered, wearing a toothy smile and a white dress ("a stunning model," reported the Examiner, "especially designed and created by Adrian . . ."). Louella had a hard time trying to smile and watch Marion Davies at the same time. Finally Louella dispatched a photographer to confer with Marion. He did. Marion threw Louella a wave and a rowdy greeting. All through dinner (canape of crabs' legs georgette to mints), Louella merely nibbled.

After the food, the party went on the air. Up rose George Jessel ("We all know that Louella . . ."), followed by Joe Schenck and Sam Goldwyn. Jack Benny's speech was not very funny, but his act had serious competition. In the middle of his talk, Miss Davies departed.

Twentieth-Century-Fox's Darryl Zanuck rose to say: "Louella, whether or not you spell names correctly is very unimportant. . . . You have a heart as big as the church itself." And L. B. Mayer: "We all love you, Louella. No queen could wish for richer jewels than the bright crown of friendship you possess. . . ." Said Bob Hope: "You turn the whole nation into a sewing circle without too much needle." Louella's husband, Dr. Harry W. ("Docky-Wocky") Martin, sometimes known as "Lolly's Pop," made the evening's best and shortest speech: "I don't think there is any question who is the Forgotten Man of 1948. . . ."

When Louella finally got the microphone, she was incoherent and tearlogged: "I'll try hard not to be emotional. . . . My 27 years with William Randolph Hearst have been the happiest years of my life. . . . This speech wasn't Very good. I'm so emotional. I thank you and I love you all and I'm so happy. Thank you." (Next day in her column she was "still on a pink cloud.")

When Louella finished, the company gave her a rousing ovation. On behalf of "The Chief," son David Hearst, 32, presented her with a gold plaque engraved with a tribute to her "courage, accuracy, fairness and curiosity."

Then they wheeled in the cake, a six-foot copy of a movie camera. Broadway's Betty Garrett (Mrs. Larry Parks) led the song composed for the occasion:

Louella, Louella, Louella, Everyone loves you; Louella, Louella, Louella, And Dr. Martin, too. . . .

Pressagents live for your column, Everyone's hustling you. Oh, how we love you, Louella, And your goo newspapers, too.*

Newsboys dashed in among the tables, hawking fresh "editions" of the Examiner with screamlines: LOUELLA SURROUNDED! FILM LEADERS IN TRIBUTE TO Miss PARSONS. About midnight, the preliminaries over, the guests settled down to watch the entertainment (Dinah Shore, Edgar Bergen, Eddie Cantor, etc., etc.).

*By special permission of Jimmie McHugh and Harold Adamson.

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