People: People, Feb. 4, 1946

Honors

Harry S. Truman won life membership in the Society for the Preservation and Encouragement of Barber Shop Quartet Singing in America, Inc.

Madeleine Carroll, peaches-&-cream cinemeritus who set an example that few movie stars followed and fewer equaled—she quit Hollywood fame & fortune for three solid years of war work—was made a Chevalier of the Legion of Honor. France paid tribute to her Red Crossing among soldiers during the liberation, her broadcasts boosting Franco-American understanding.

Mrs. George Lucas of Lafayette, Ind. (1944 pop. 30,746) was judged the Typical American Housewife by a national research organization. Outlines of the Typical American Housewife: she is 28, a solid. ly built brunette, the wife of a sailor, has a six-year-old daughter and a four-year-old son, does all the housework for an eight-room house (where her father-in-law lives), goes shopping every other morning, likes to cook, doesn’t like quick-frozen foods, won’t use corn syrup to stretch sugar recipes, serves the day’s big meal at 5 p.m., and, up to last week, had never been out of Indiana.

Saints & Sinners

Frank Lloyd Wright, most-publicized of architects and patron saint of some, was the subject of a forthcoming biography. Author: his son, John. Title: My Father Who Is on Earth.

Mae West, past mistress of the vague invitation, prepared for yet another Broadway comeback, in a play with a title that finally got down to cases: Ring Twice Tonight,

Fellow Travelers

Prince George, 76, magnincently-mustached uncle of George II of Greece and oldest member of the royal household, wound up a social week in Manhattan, pushed on to Florida. The well-heeled Prince and his Princess achieved the second breath-taking triumph of their U.S. visit. First triumph: rooms (they bagged four at the Plaza).Second triumph: train reservations. Said the Prince when he heard reservations were hard to get: “Charter a train for us!” In fact he settled for space aboard two different public trains on two different roads. Southward bound: Prince, Princess, daughter, two grandchildren, a governess, and a valet.

Dr. Lise Meitner, 67, refugee German physicist, pioneer contributor to the atomic bomb, arrived in New York City by plane from England, got a push-&-pull welcome from newsmen and relatives. Black-clad, quiet Dr. Meitner stepped from the plane, saw the crowd, promptly stepped back in again, got hold of herself, finally reemerged. Reporters let go with questions, cameramen with flash bulbs. A spotlight’s fuse blew. “I’m so awfully tired,” said Dr. Meitner. Relatives bustled her off. Next day she was in at the unveiling of the man-made meson (see SCIENCE). Next stop, after a rest: Washington, DC., where she will teach at Catholic University.

The Dionne Quintuplets, preparing for a red-letter day, spent a busy week fussing with junior-miss dresses and big-girls’ powder puffs. Next week they would crown a snow queen at the Northern Ontario Winter Carnival; it would be the fourth formal public appearance in their twelve years (No. 1: presentation to King

George and Queen Elizabeth at Toronto in 1939; No. 2: a Toronto Victory Loan rally in 1942; No. 3: a Wisconsin ship-launching in 1943).

Lady Astor finally got back home to Old Virginia, and from there was heading for Florida (not to see Winston Churchill—”That would be a busman’s holiday”*). She was taking Lord Astor to a warm climate “to restore him.” Explained the 66-year-old Viscountess: “Everybody wants to be a young widow—they go like hot cakes, but nobody wants to be an old widow.”

Frida Laski, wife of arch-Socialist Harold, agreed with people who thought he ought to be out of the Labor Party chairmanship. Said she: “It’s about time we had a happy home life free from politics.” But she wanted him at least to run for re-election to the executive committee at next spring’s Party Congress, for if he didn’t “then Lord Beaverbrook would be very happy, and I don’t want that to happen.”

Whimwhams

David O. Selznick was bombarding U.S. cinemaddicts with ads about a movie they would not see for some five months, based on a book that few had read, about a subject (the Wild West) ordinarily reserved for B or Cpictures. Reason for the early build-up of Duel in the Sun: to help pay the most colossal production-promotion costs in cinema history ($5,069,000 to date).

Selznick’s dizzy, gee-whiz advance publicity campaign is spearheaded by Anita (“The Face”) Colby (TIME, Jan. 8,1945), and three other I.Q. glamor girls who know how to win friends and influence editors. The girls are already on the road, whooping up the picture’s merits and trumpeting the number of Gone With the Wind records already shattered. Some of them: shooting time, eight months and three weeks, about a month more than Selznick’s GWTW; extras and bit players, 3,000; nine stars, including Joseph Gotten, Gregory Peck, Walter Huston, Lillian Gish and Jennifer (Bernadette) Jones, who is cast this time as a sexy, busty half-breed.

Martha Raye, hippo-mouthed comedienne, was victimized by a busy Manhattan jewel thief who was cleaning up in plushier neighborhoods. (Voice of the Turtle Producer Alfred de Liagre Jr.’s wife was already out $20,000 worth.) Comedienne Raye, who opened her closet and found her jewel box empty, set her loss at $15,000. Among the 16 whim whams missing: 1) a diamond-&-ruby ring (one kite diamond, one 32-karat diamond, 28 bluewhite diamonds, four rubies), 2) a pair of earrings (34 white diamonds, eight baguette diamonds, 3) a diamond-&-topaz ring (18 pearl-shaped diamonds, 46 blue-white diamonds), 4) a bracelet watch (30 white diamonds, twelve small rubies). Any clue?

Body & Soul

Vic Oliver, musicomedian and ex-son-in-law of Winston Churchill, made his debut as a symphony conductor, offered “popular classics” at prim Albert Hall. A critic’s report: “curious idea of tempo and no idea of rhythm.”

Major Charles Boxer, who fathered Humorist Emily Hahn’s daughter in Hong Kong and made it legal in Connecticut (TIME, Dec. 10), looked newsworthy in Tokyo to a Stars and Stripes reporter. But the Major, in town with the Far Eastern Investigating Commission, knew the essence of his own fame, gave the interviewer an acute lesson in journalism. Said he: “My news value ceased the day I married.”

Chili Williams and Jane Russell, two of Hollywood’s smartest shapes, were hip-&-hip in a popularity contest. To boost the Infantile Paralysis Fund, blonde Chili (“The Polka-Dot Girl”) and brunette Jane (“The Bosom”) entered a contest for the title of Miss March of Dimes.

*And no pleasure for Churchill, who finds her annoying.