Spartanburg Herald/April 16, 1942
You’re still a thrill when April twilights paint
The dreamy town with reminiscent hues.
You’re still a thrill when evening stars are faint
And moonmist creeps along the avenues . . .
We knew where wine was ripe within the cask
We knew the inns where nothing mattered much . . .
Where lies were truth and prudence wore a mask
And happiness was eager to the touch;
So goes the dim processional of time . . .
The scented nights . . . the charm of other Springs . . .
As heartbreak brings your loveliness to rhyme . . .
With these ecstatic, half-remembered things . . .
And as an old dream bends to April’s will—
You know as well as I . . . You’re still a thrill!
Haw! Phil Baker tells about the six-year-old who was tugging a suitcase down Central Park West. The corner cop stopped her and asked where she was going.
“My Daddy and Mummy were having a fight,” explained the child. “Mummy told Daddy to go to Timbuctoo, and Daddy told Mummy to go someplace else. So I left home—nobody’s sticking ME with any two-year lease!”
Gosh, Yes! Al Bernie says you hear so little of John Nance Garner you’d think he was still Vice-President!
Ouch! At LaConga a chorine was chatting about a deb’s new wrap which was having its premiere that night.
“I’ve seen that fur-piece some place before,” said the chorus gal. “I suppose it was in front of some saucer of milk.”
In Case You Didn’t Know: Being in the public eye is like being a cinder in it. So you must expect to be treated like one.
Tee-Hee: Elsa Maxwell, the nicest blimp in town, approached the Rainbow Room table group. Maestro Leo Reisman greeted her with: “Where have you been all these weeks?”
“Helping the Gov’t design some new tanks,” explained Elsa.
“Really?” meow’d a deb. “I didn’t know you’d taken up modeling.”
Of All Things! Louis Nizer, the lawyer, gets hysterical every time he thinks of this silly. A worm was crawling along minding his own business when he encountered a worm standing up. The crawling one got closer and started getting gay.
“Hello, honey,” said the worm to the one standing up. “I’m nuts for you—whaddaya say about us getting married, huh?’
“Oh,” said the other, “don’t be a dope. I’m your rear end!”
In Fewer Words: Observed near the Lido Beach Club: “Drive Slowly. You May Be Tired Of Life. But What About the Life of Your Tires?”
Forecast for 1942: From Jay Franklin’s col-yum in Richmond, Va.: “Walter Winchell will cease to write about Café Society because it won’t exist.. Walter Lippmann will write the best columns of his life and nobody will read them. Mark Sullivan will be drafted into Government service to help administer the nationwide food-stamp plan. Dorothy Thompson will fight it out with Clare Boothe Luce for the role of Julia Ward Howe or Florence Nightingale. David Lawrence will continue to do his stuff so long as he can find papers to print it, after which he will join the USO and work in a canteen. Raymond Clapper will gain in courage and, breaking with Roy Howard, will emerge as a real columnist. Westbrook Pegler will join the Army.”
But don’t bet on it.
Morning Mail: ‘Dear Walter: So chorus girls never become famous—just notorious, eh? The Winchell you say! Howz about Ruby Keeler, Barbara Stanwyck, Virginia Bruce, Gladys Glad, Ina Claire and Joan Crawford? Go stand in a corner, but don’t get me wrong. I’m a former Hellzapoppin’ chorine, and I have good reasons to be nuts about W. W.—Margie Young, Banjo Eyes.”
Could Be! Larry Kent, the Beachcomber clown, was asked: “Aren’t you a newspaper man?”
“Nn-nh.” Nh-nd’d Kent, “somebody once sat on my hat.”
Broadway Story: Her name is Miriam LaValle, a dancer. Been trying to crash The Big Apple for years. Appeared in musicals destined for New York, but they withered en route. Last month Miriam joined Irv Caesar’s show, “My Dear Children.” Out-of-town critics liked her lots. An opening was set for B’way. But the show collapsed in Philly.
Last week Miriam finally hit Broadway and the Big Burg—as a figure in lights on the Wilson animated electricks! . . . But wait for the punch line! . . . Booking agents enjoyed her silhouette so much they looked her up and booked Miriam for the Strand, where she opened April 10th.
Jimmy Walker says: “The Freedom of the Press is too often confused with the freedom of the publisher.”
There are many examples of clever headline writing. We think this is one of the best: When John Masefield arrived here from England where he was poet laureate, he refused to grant newspapermen an interview . . . So one evening paper ran this streamer: “King’s Canary Refuses to Chirp”—which made a better story than the interview could have been.
Add B’way Dictionary: Show-off: Fellow seen out with his wife . . . Out-of-towners: Those who pay to see a Broadway play and like it . . . Frame-up. When the truth leaks out . . . Cheap Skate: Guy who thinks he’s entitled to get back any dough he loaned to a friend . . . Success: when you can wipe your feet on the guy who helped you stand on them.
From the editorial page of the N. Y. Post: “If Adolf Hitler captured Our Town, which are the first 10 New Yorkers he would hang? . . . Certain names will spring to your mind at once. Dorothy Thompson? Walter Winchell?”
Ladies first, of course.
(Source: Google News, https://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=1876&dat=19420416&id=WTIsAAAAIBAJ&sjid=6MoEAAAAIBAJ&pg=7196,4049398)
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