• U.S.

People: People, May 6, 1946

6 minute read


Pedro Leão Velloso, bald Brazilian delegate to the U.N. Security Council, was taken to Manhattan’s bosom with a vengeance: a taxi bearing him down Park Avenue slambanged into another, knocked him off his seat. Next day at the council meeting, Delegate Velloso sported court plasters on brow and beak.

Archbishop Urban John Vehr of Denver, ceremonially draped with a pallium* brought from Rome by Samuel Alphonsus Cardinal Stritch, managed to get through the ceremony with a nose that had been through a chilling experience. Playing host to visiting bishops the night before, the Archbishop had tripped, taken a nose dive. Physicians insisted on keeping the archiepiscopal neb in an ice pack all night.


Lana Turner was made moderately happy by U.N.’s Trygve Lie: he consented to be photographed with her—but then inquired: just who is Lana Turner? Explained Lie: “I haven’t seen a movie in five years.”

Sonja Henie’s success in the U.S. failed to cut any ice with the Norwegian press; a writer for Oslo’s Verdens Gang tartly summed up her aid to her native land during the German occupation: “On the whole, she didn’t do anything.”

Dorothy Lamour, like Hedy Lamarr a week earlier (TIME, April 29), got debaubelized. While she was visiting Baltimore, an auto burglar got away with some $26,000 worth of her jewelry, a $1,500 fur coat, 36 pairs of stockings. Unmolested: 15 other pieces of luggage.

Tilda Thamar, blonde, green-eyed Argentine cinemactress, arrived in Miami to build up a little hemispheric good will, lost no time buckling down to work (see cut). Her name-around-the-house: Countess Toptani. Her husband’s cousin: Albania’s ex-King Zog. Among her distinctions: quadrilinguality; 121 Ibs. 6 02.


Notable tributes of the week: Haile Selassie got the Wendell L. Willkie Memorial Award from the African Academy of Arts and Research (Manhattan) for his “contribution to international peace and good will.” Recalled the chairman of the award committee: the in-&-out Emperor had long ago done his best to “impress 52 nations with the need of stopping aggression. . . .”

The Tinker-to-Evers-to-Chance double-play combination was declared officially famous. Shortstop Joseph Tinker (ailing off & on in Florida), 2nd Baseman John J. Evers (bedridden with paralysis in Albany), and ist Baseman Frank Chance (dead 22 years) were finally admitted to baseball’s Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, N.Y. Declared white-haired Valetudinarian Evers gratefully: “That leaves me with no more worries.”


Fritz Kuhn, porky U.S. Nazi of the ‘303, deported last year to Germany, was freed from his German prison as a harmless character in his native land. Porky no longer, he headed for Munich and “a new start”—as a chemist, said he, “if they’ll let me.” Swore Kuhn: “I’ll never go back to politics again.”

Prince Takahrto Mikasa, athletic youngest brother of Hirohito, toyed with a project he hoped to realize “as soon as it is permitted.” Now 30 and a husband & father, the Prince wants to go to college in the U.S.

Errol Flynn said he was taking his wife on a yachting trip to Latin America and France, refused to confirm or deny word of another Flynn enterprise: investment in a corset-&-brassiere business. His statement: “What—are they still wearing them?”


Lionel Barrymore, after acting it for years, hit 68, and Hollywood hit him with a set of monkeyshines worth 70 (see cut). It was a three-layer celebration: 68 years in the world at large, 50 in the theater, 30 in Hollywood.

Henry Morgenthau Sr., ex-Ambassador to Turkey and father of the ex-Secretary of the Treasury, turned 90 in Manhattan, peered at the world, declared happily that it was “far better” than when he came to the U.S., back in 1865.

Henri-Philippe Pétain turned 90 in his island prison off the Brittany coast, looked so fit to his doctor that he was judged capable of attaining 100.

Professor Charles Townsend Copeland—”Copey” to nearly three generations of Harvardmen who listened to his literary readings—reached 86 in Cambridge, Mass., suffering “only occasional doubts” that he would hit 100.

Connie Mack, spry, emaciated manager of the Philadelphia Athletics, was separated from his second wife at 83. Father of seven, he had transferred half of his Athletics stock (estimated at $1 million) to three sons—two by his first wife—and that was the finish, said second wife Katherine. “He said it would all be straightened out in two or three years,” she said. “He is 83, and life is too uncertain. . . .” Tutted Mack: “Things will be straightened out. . . .”

Lady Astor, addressing clubwomen in Richmond: “Young people of today hardly know right from wrong. . . . Older people must put them to thinking right. . . .” On men in general: “The men of today can get away with murder.”


Thomas Mann, 70, was in a Chicago hospital “resting comfortably” after a chest operation whose nature the hospital would not divulge.

Arnold J. Toynbee, top-ranking British historian, got a tidy Rockefeller Foundation grant ($152,000) to do a World War II history of international relations. He hoped to start on it this summer, finish its twelve volumes by 1950.

St. John Ervine (rhymes with “Injun servin'”), Irish critic-dramatist whose John Ferguson was a U.S. success in 1919, but whose Boyd’s Daughter ran only three Broadway performances in 1940, told a Belfast lecture audience that the British way of life was still tops. “I say that, remembering America,” said he. “I have been there twice, and I would rather be in jail in this country than free in America.”

William Shakespeare looked like the Bard of the Volga on his 382nd birthday: his native Stratford blossomed with its customary annual festival, but the Soviet Union broke out all over. Hamlet was a smash in Armenia, King Lear drew iron tears down Tartar cheeks, Two Gentlemen of Verona titillated the Uzbekistanians; altogether, Shakespeare was played to polyglot Russia in 27 languages.

“Samuel Taylor Coleridge, maligned in his day as a screwball poet,” reported the theatrical tradepaper Variety chummily, “is about to be recognized by Columbia with a film translation of The Ancient Mariner.” Variety’s headline:


*A stole serving as an Archbishop’s official insignia.

*Frank Capra, Jimmy Stewart, Thomas Mitchell.

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