People: Guided Tours

In Philadelphia, Vice President Alben Berkley asked his Secret Service guard not to tail him too closely. Explained the Veep: “I don’t want to feel that I’m in a vacuum and guarded every minute of the day … I try to take my wife with me wherever I go, and you can bet your life she keeps her eye on me.”

Senator Charles W. Tobey momentarily turned from criminals to cast a skeptical glance at the Government’s stock of gold, wanted to know how much there was and if anyone kept a weight check to see that none was stolen. The Senator, replied the Treasury Department pleasantly, could have “a personal tour” of Fort Knox any time he wished.

Belgium’s former Premier Paul Henri Spaak, a veteran of a few cabinet crises, admitted to the American Club in Brussels that he was baffled by U.S. politics. Said Spaak: “American political life is absolutely incomprehensible, not only for the majority of foreigners, but also for the Americans … In America there are two large parties, the Republicans and the Democrats. I asked a lot of people the difference between a Republican and a Democrat. Nobody could tell me, so I’m beginning to think there isn’t any.”

Joseph Pholien, Premier of Belgium, arrived in Manhattan for a ten-day look at the U.S., “to be better acquainted with the tremendous activity of your Government and people in industrial production and military organization.”

In Portland, Ore., William O. Douglas, Supreme Court Justice and sentimental mountaineer, announced his summer plans: a 400-mile hike along the Tibetan border in the Himalayas. “It will be a pack trip,” said Douglas, “but I’ll probably be walking most of the way. Those porters up there have sort of a union. They’ll go only ten miles a day and carry 65 pounds. For this they get 75¢ a day apiece and they furnish their own food.”

Back in London, “fearfully tired and worn out” from their poetry-reading tour of the U.S., Sir Osbert and Edith Sitwell compared notes on audiences at home and abroad. Said Sir Osbert: “American audiences are more inquiring, more responsive, and not so tired as the English.” Sister Edith agreed: “American response is quicker. Some of our meetings were like revivalist’s meetings.”

Wear & Tear

In Washington, Major General Patrick J. Hurley, 68, onetime Secretary of War and U.S. Ambassador to China, came home to surprise a burglar, roared into combat and came out nursing a few cuts and bruises. Said the scrappy general: “I put up a good fight. I knocked his hat off, but he finally knocked me to the ground.”

After a back-alley fight in Los Angeles, World War II Marine Ace Gregory (“Pappy”) Boyington, now a beer salesman, was hauled into court and charged with drunkenness. Said Medal-of-Honor man Pappy, now 38: “I must be getting old.”

Just before his TV show, Zoo Parade, R. Marlin Perkins, boss of Chicago’s Lincoln Park Zoo, called for a standin, rushed off to the hospital. One of his star performers, a timber rattlesnake, had sunk its fangs into Perkins’ left hand. It was merely the latest of several bouts with poisonous snakes. An earlier one, a near-fatal nip from an African gaboon viper (TIME, July 7, 1947), had already brought him membership in the Snake Bite Club, a select group who have survived encounters with poisonous snakes.

In Baltimore, singing the role of Prince Orlofsky in Fledermaus, Metropolitan Soprano Jarmila Novotna ran into some unexpected competition. Just after Fledermaus’ elegant patter song Chacun à Son Gout (Each to His Own Taste), a real bat sailed out of the wings and stopped the show with a dazzling exhibition of tight spirals and climbing turns.

Domestic Issues

Four hours after he was reported missing, Joan Crawford’s nine-year-old adopted son, Christopher, was found by Hollywood police playing with chums a few blocks away. He had run off, Christopher explained, because “I couldn’t have chocolate sauce on my ice cream.” Back home again, the truant got together for a heart-to-heart chat with his mother in a scene of youthful remorse and parental wrath. Said mother: “He’s not going to sit on his bottom for a good many days.”

Rita Hayworth docked in Manhattan, in the wake of rumors that she was leaving Aly Khan after two years of marriage. Not so, said she. A friend offered an explanation: The quick trip to America was more like “a Gromyko walk,” taken to teach her princely husband “a lesson.”

Broadway’s Paul and Grace Hartman, burlesque experts of the dance (Tickets, Please], decided to call their marriage quits after more than 28 years. Said Grace: “We just thought we’d be better going our separate ways. That sounds a little corny, doesn’t it? But it’s about the best way I can put it.”

Two days after Playwright Eugene O’Neill asked a Salem, Mass, court to name a guardian for his wife, recently released from a mental hospital, she countered with a suit for separate support charging cruelty and abuse after almost 22 years of marriage.

Honolulu buzzed with rumors of a spectacular reconciliation. A visitor at Doris Duke’s fabulous Hawaiian home, Shangri-La, was none other than her divorced second husband, onetime Dominican Diplomat Porfirio Rubirosa.