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Show r : '"'1 TIIK Vli.l.AGK VKWS-PKESS (Pop and Editor W Wiachell) Mrs. Roosevelt sure told off the radicals after the Newspaper Guild held its affair. It was one of those ufr-the-record gabfests, and she Pike her mind plenty. Wish we could Jot down what Mrs. FDR said but tain't allowed. But she said plenty to their faces. Ex-Magistrate Overton Harris sure oughta know better'n to argue with a cop about getting a ticket. Happened in a West 57th Street reelected re-elected area ... "I could break you tor this!" the ex-Judge threatened. threat-ened. Hell, there's nothing deader than an ex-anything, say we. Heard a mighty good Joke over at Bub Martyn's Cuba place. It was a take-ofl by Milt Gross, the picture pic-ture drawer. Seems that a movie man with an accent told an actress who applied for a part: "You got eyes like "Hedy" . . . "Heavens ) sakes alive!" said the lady, "Hedy Lamarr?" "Naw," said the movie man, "Hedy Cantor!" Hear tell Miss P. Hopkins Joyce, the famed wife, is being signed up to go on the radio and give a series of gossip scoops. Ye ed ain't worried. wor-ried. Peg can't write gossip as well as she can make it. Ha, ha. Mrs. Jack Oakie, who nearly passed on to the Pearly Gates on aec't of her ailment, has been advised ad-vised by her doc to completely rest lur several montns or else lace serl ous consequences. The former Venita Vardon certainly shouldn't go around worryin' her well-wishers that way. Met up with Romo Vincent, the show-actor at Mario's Hurricane cabaret. He told ye ed about the oddest clause he's ever seen in a contract. In the one he had in a restaurant in New Orleans the clause stated: "You shall not go on before the salad." Ye ed can remember all the way back in this village when Tiffany Tif-fany & Co. were ring and stone peddlers ped-dlers in the 1930s and considered it beneath their dignity to put their name outside their store. Wal, next month they open a new one on 57th and 5th, and have their name almost everywhere. My, oh my, and lands sakes alive I How the mighty have fallen. Our esteemed and jovial rival. Franklin Pierce Adams, said that he made up a joke which he sees is now a campaign button. The one about Willkie for President of Commonwealth Com-monwealth & Southern. Fact is that a photograph of that button ran in the New York Mirror on the edi-toral edi-toral page and was a stale joke weeks before The Mirror editor ran It Russ Davenport quit Fortune to help Mr. Willkie, and wrote a piece for it about his man. So J. Chamberlain Cham-berlain (formerly a book critic) of the paper wrote one for Roosevelt. Sort of a battle page. Wal, Russ took a dig at Johnny in his. Said something about not having the time to read a book as he was busy making mak-ing a President The rest of the staff decided to go buy Russ a copy of Mortimer J. Adler's "How to Read a Book." Here's one for that feller from New York to end his Sunday night talk with: " who is glad to live in a land where confidence in a presidential pres-idential candidate means a button in your lapel instead of a bullet in your back." NOTES OF A NEW YORKER Two years ago Martha Scott arrived ar-rived in New York from James-port, James-port, Mo., with J50 to carve herself n TllVllo in IVm Thlft;.. ti l. Alsop was a socially prominent radio ra-dio producer ... He gave Martha the role of Alice Blair in one of his WOR serials because she needed a job to eat and because the script called for an unknown youngster out to achieve fame and happiness in the Big City . . . The hero of the strip drama was a man-about-town author patterned after Alsop's personality per-sonality . . . The struggling Alice of the continuity eventually married the dashing hero. Just as the struggling Martha Scott promoted from the hungry Rehearsal Club days through her playing in the stage and screen "Our Town" and "The Howards of Virginia" Vir-ginia" was married the other day in a Fifth Avenue church to the popular pop-ular Carleton Alsop. One of the Roosevelt boys was in La Conga the other night and a drurk started getting chummy. "iy father and your father," he hiccoughed, hic-coughed, "yocsh'd to be clash-matesh. clash-matesh. Sho I want you to know we're for your pop" . . . The Roosevelt Roose-velt boy straightened the chap's coat "Ycosh don't have to hold me up," he sulked. "I'm not holding you up," replied the President's son. "I'm just straightening out the Willkie button in your lapeL" |