Butch to Italy?

The old rumors swirled up again, as heady as the smell of garlic to New York’s duck-bottomed little Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia. But he would have none of them. Had he not been deceived 17 months ago? Then he had gone confidently to a Manhattan haberdasher and bought a resplendent gabardine uniform, suitable for one silver star, had waited for orders to fly to North Africa, perhaps dreaming of marching into Rome at the head of U.S. columns. But a Congressional hubbub over “political generals” had stopped the appointment cold; Franklin Roosevelt sent to Italy two other New York Democrats, lameduck Charles Poletti, ex-lieutenant governor, and William O’Dwyer, Brooklyn’s D.A.-on-leave.

But this time it looked as if Butch LaGuardia might get his trip to Italy, notwithstanding objections from Congress or from War Secretary Henry L. Stimson, who fears that LaGuardia would be too hot to handle in Italy. Still Butch would not talk.

Columnist Drew Pearson reported that “The Hat” was once again in line for the job of Allied High Commissioner in Rome. Cracked LaGuardia: “I understand Pearson is to be named a Lithuanian count.” Later he snapped at newsmen: “Don’t ask silly questions.” And even after President Roosevelt hinted that there might soon be a new assignment for him, the little mayor kept mum. He sent Manhattan newsmen a curt note: “I have an assignment with my dentist.” Leaving City Hall that night, he rudely barked: “I’m going to clean up the streets tonight; I’m good at that.”