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Show The Private Papers of a Cub Reporter: It is supposed to have happened during Churchill's last visit. . . . A youthful War Dep't aide was rushed over to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue one hot Sunday dawn with confidential news of military importance impor-tance for the President. . . . Though the hour was terribly early, he was brought to FDR's bedside. . . . The President listened and then ordered the young officer rushed to the Prime Minister. Breathlessly, he retold the news to Churchill, whose huge, round face was all he could see imbedded in four or five pillows. The celebrated cigar smouldering in the semi-darkness. . , . The officer ended his message mes-sage and stood at attention, waiting tensely for Churchill's answer. . . . The Britisher kept focused on the youth and then softly growled. "Are you the young man who took my daughter out last night?" "Yes, sir," gulped the astonished fellow. "I'd like you to understand," said Mr. Churchill, "that my daughter daugh-ter is not accustomed to staying out until 3 in the morning!" And then, getting out of bed in his white sack-like nightgown, England's Eng-land's Commander-in-Chief, cigar between his teeth, strode off hurriedly hur-riedly down the White House corridors corri-dors in his nightie. Over at the British Embassy they enjoy telling the one about the pair of Gurkhas (noted as India's bravest tribe) who volunteered for the Indian In-dian Army's sky-troops. The'y asked the British officer: "From what height are we supposed to jump?" "Five hundred feet," they were Informed. In-formed. "Nothing doing," one complained, "that's too high. Cahn't we try from 300 feet, old chep?" "No," said the officer, "from such a low height there is great danger the parachute won't open In time." "You mean," they exclaimed, "That we get parachutes?" In Albuquerque, this ageless gag Is convulsing the citizens. About the New York go-getter, who spotted an Indian chief lazying near his tepee. ... "Why don't you," asked the stranger, "get yourself a job in a defense plant?" . . ."Why?" grunted the Indian. . . . "Oh," said the New Yorker, "if you work hard and save your money you would soon have a bank account. Wouldn't you like that?" The Injun intoned: "Why?" "Oh, fergoodnessakes," said the exasperated bore. "With a big bank account you could retire. And never work any more." "Me," said the chief waddling away, "not working now." Sally in Our Alley: In Reuben's last night a pair of stage veterans recalled when John Barrymore was going through the soul torment of Hamlet when he thought he detected a small riot in the second row. . . . Looking down he saw Jane Cowl, the star, carrying on an animated conversation with all around her for Jour rows back. . . . Gritting his molars, Barrymore went through the show, but when he was called on for bows at the end, he intoned: "I would like to thank all you gracious people for your applause. And also thank Miss Jane Cowl sitting right down there for co-starring with me!" New Yorkers Are Talking About: The mad between Hildegarde and Jacqueline Susann, who lit a match at the Persian Room during the singer's blackout number. . . . The fastest sell-out in Harper's history. Because of the article on Gov. Dewey. . . . Socialite Rusty Hatch, who celebrated his second divorce last Friday. He's proposed to his third heart-attack. . . . Gloria King's thrushing in the Park Central Lounge. . . . Martin Dies' statement state-ment that "no man is indispensable." indispen-sable." . . . Martin said it after he had seven terms. . . . The lovely model in the uniform of the Femarines. An Elizabeth Arden advert in windows. . . . The way F. P. A. was and prob'ly will be the only one to flaunt an FDR button ln the Republican-infested sector near Westport. . . . Mary Nolan (Imogene Wilson, ex-Follies girl) being be-ing so ill and in sour luck again on the Coast. . . . The $25 round trip fare charged by many cabbies to the Belmont track. . . . The theft of night club files which are offered back for a stiff fee. The big idea is to permit beating the OPA ruling on raising prices. . . . Fred AlleH's retort re-tort to a heckler: "People who keep their mouths shut never show their Ignorance or false teeth!" Beaverbrook's former editor on his London Standard is editing a one-sheet one-sheet newspaper for Mountbatten. . . . His name is Frank Owen. . . . It has the best comic strip in England, Eng-land, and Owen writes a daily editorial edi-torial called "Good Morning." . . . Naval officers here on leave tell us Owen's paper is so popular that Mountbatten issued an order not to permit anyone to read it unless they first buy a copy of The India Times, which almost "went out of business" because of Owen's circulation. |