People: Aug. 25, 1930

“Names make news.” Last week the following names made the following news:

Every weekday for the past eleven years, Sir Harry Gloster Armstrong, 69, has gone to his office in Manhattan at 6 a. m., for by that hour London is well into its day’s work and Sir Harry is the British Consul-General in New York. More than 40 years ago he was a dashing captain of the Irish fusiliers. More than 30 years ago he was an actor ofShakespeare in London’s famed Haymarket theatre. Nine years ago he crossed the retiring line for members of the British Civil Service, but not until last week, after two special extensions of his appointment, was he ordered definitely to withdraw at the close of the year. He has been the grand old man of foreign consuls in the U. S. Named as his successor: Gerald Campbell, British Consul-General at San Francisco since 1922.

The public learned that Dr. James Rowland Angell, President of Yale University, had been ill in the New Haven hospital since early in July.

Clarence De Mar, marathon runner, schoolteacher, on his way to lecture, missed his train, trotted 38 mi. from Harrison to Portland. Me., took another train, got there on time.

King George V and Queen Mary went to the reopening of St. Paul’s Cathedral, long closed for repairs (TIME, July 7), there saw “gloomy” Dean William Ralph Inge. Said the Queen to the Dean: ‘What a privilege it must be for you to hear these wonderful services!” Said the Dean to the Queen: “I assure you, madame, I find it most irksome.”

Edward, Prince of Wales, played such excellent golf at Le Touquet, France, that he was declared champion golfer of royalty, had his Le Touquet handicap lowered from twelve strokes to five.

Marion Nevada Talley, Kansas farmerette, onetime soprano of the Metropolitan Opera Company, went to Manhattan to make a series of phonograph records. Said she: “I never knew just what made me leave the grand opera stage. … I couldn’t say that I’ll never go back. . . . You know, it’s a woman’s privilege. . . .”

Anastasia Tchaikovsky, protégée of various Eastern socialites who say she is Grand Duchess Anastasia, daughter of the late Tsar Nicholas II of Russia, was reported about to be deported from the U. S., could nowhere be found. But Assistant Secretary of Labor William Walter Husband announced: “We could not deport her to Russia because we have no diplomatic relations with that country. There is no other country to which we could lawfully send her.”

Bernt Balchen, Norse aviator who flew Richard Evelyn Byrd across the Atlantic and over the South Pole, learned that because his intended five-year residence in America had been broken by two years in Little America he would be penalized, have to wait two extra years before he can file his second citizenship papers.

Dr. Harry Augustus Garfield, president of Williams College, and Mrs. Garfield went for their first airplane ride, soared over the Berkshire Hills. Their pilot: Col. Charles Augustus Lindbergh, a speaker at the Williamstown Institute of Politics.

Mrs. Dwight Whitney Morrow, en route from Maine to Mexico City, assured a St. Louis newshawk that her grandson Charles Augustus Lindbergh Jr. (whose parents were last week traveling around without him) was “a good baby and doing splendidly.”

Baron Friedrich Karl Paul Richard August Freiherr Koenig von und zu Warthausen, 24, holder of last year’s Hindenburg Cup for flying from Berlin to Moscow (he then continued around the world), was shaken and contused when a friend’s motor collided with a milkwagon in Manhattan. Last year he was run over by a taxi in El Paso.

Twice Brooklyn-born Sydney Franklin (Frumkin) drove home a sire Estoque, and at each thrust a raging Toro died on the sand of Madrid’s Plaza de Toros. But Spaniards jeered and pointed. Reason: Franklin’s new bullfighting suit was salmon pink.

Off the 20th Century Limited in Manhattan strode a tall, hatless, tousled young man with a traveling bag in one hand which he would let no porter carry. To Broadway he sped, for he was Howard Hughes Jr. cinema producer, and in the bag were the reels of his picture Hell’s Angels on which he spent nearly three years and over $4,000,000 (TIME, June 9). He had personally conveyed the film to Manhattan for its Eastern première.

Thornton Cooke, president of Kansas City’s Columbia National Bank, awoke on a Pullman in Manhattan’s Grand Central Station to find that a switch engine had gone somewhere with the train valet and with his only suit. Banker Cooke ordered an invalid’s chair, swaddled himself in Pullman Co. blankets, had himself scooted through the depot to the Hotel Biltmore.

Archibald Roosevelt, third son of the late great President, set out with two friends by night in a Samoan canoe to cross New York Bay from Staten Island. A steamer’s wake capsized, a lighter rescued them.

John Wanamaker of Manhattan and Capt. Charlie Thompson, famed old-time fishing guide, were towed 40 mi. to sea off Montauk Point, L. I. by a three-ton whale which absorbed two harpoons and 40 bullets before dying.

Mrs. Jacques S. (Fannie Hurst) Danielson, novelist (Humoresque, Lummox, A President is Born), told London newshawks that her most vivid impression of England was “the length and adequacy of the underwear displayed in the stores.”

The band played loud at a Vanderbilt lawn party in Portsmouth, R. I., and the horses of the approaching Vanderbilt carriage shied, bowled over two ladies near the gate. Out of the coach leaped Newport’s Mayor Mortimer A. Sullivan and Vice President Charles Curtis, stood the ladies on their feet again.