The answers rolled in from all directions.

Explorer Roy Chapman Andrews explained what it takes to make a man an explorer: "He's got to be completely miserable when he's not exploring."

Inventor Charles F. Kettering, General Motors research chief, gave the recipe for an inventor: "To make an inventor, all you have to do is take his mind off the idea that it's a disgrace to fail. . .'.':

Herman F. Willkie, liquor-distilling elder brother of the late Wendell, announced that it is silly for anyone to do uncongenial work: "It is possible to make a living at almost anything. . . . One might as well work at something he likes."

Pamela Kellino, actress-wife of Britain's romantic Cinemenace James Mason, arrived at a formula for a happy marriage: "The only possible way to make marriage work is to stay so close together that you couldn't possibly get apart."

Low Bows

Awarded to Franklin D. Roosevelt Jr.: the Legion of Merit, for "outstanding services ... as commanding officer of the U.S.S. Ulvert M. Moore in action against an enemy Japanese submarine . . -. on Jan. 31, 1945."

Handed to General Douglas Mac-Arthur, by Boys' Town's Father Edward J. Flanagan, who is in Japan studying juvenile problems: a commission as Admiral in the Nebraska Navy.*

Honored: Babe Ruth; by elaborate "Babe Ruth Day" celebrations on baseball diamonds all over the U.S. --and, in Japan, by "Babu Rusu Day."

Congratulated: Prince Carl Gustaf of Sweden, who was making a royal try at standing upright for his birthday this week (see cut). Next in line for the throne after his grandfather (since his father's plane-crash death last January), he was just turning one, already had the situation firmly in hand.

Crowned: Cinemactress Alexis Smith, by roly-poly California Sculptor Yucca Salamunich. who says she has The Sexiest Head in Hollywood. Judy Garland, Salamunich decided, has The Least Sexy Head. Excerpt from the admiring sculptor's informal citation to Miss Smith: "She has the perfect North American head. Those high cheekbones and yunnnh! That nose! Long and straight. Passionate women always have long, straight noses."

Old, Sweet Song

James M. Landis, 47, leathery CAB chairman, onetime Roosevelt Brain Truster, wartime Civilian Defense chief, was sued for divorce by wife Stella in Salem, Mass., after nearly 21 years. She charged desertion, asked custody of their two daughters.

Josephine Baker, expatriate American whose bouncy scorchdancing made her the rich brown toast of Paris musicomedy for years, got ready for her third marriage. Husband No. I had been a Negro tap dancer, No. 2 a wealthy French manufacturer. No. 3-to-be: Jo Bouillon, top-ranking white French jazz bandsman.

Erika von Blomberg, 35, whose marriage to the late Nazi War Minister Werner von Blomberg got him fired in 1938 (he met her in one of Berlin's tonier brothels), announced happily that she had lately got a number of marriage proposals by mail. She didn't say what her answers had been.

The suitors had seen Erika's photo in the U.S. press (see cut), and the proposals, she said, came from Americans--mostly gentlemen of the Old South.

The Literary Life

Emil Ludwig, best-selling biographer (Napoleon, Bismarck, Cleopatra, Roosevelt), whose books were once burned by the Nazis (he is a Jew), was again a banned author in Germany., This time he was verboten in the Russian zone for being too "militaristic."

Jan Valtin, ex-OGPU agent who told all in his best-selling Out of the Night (1941), was jugged (and then released) as an undesirable alien (1942), served with the armed forces in the Pacific, and finally became a U.S. citizen last January, was still roller-coastering. In New Haven, Conn., the U.S. Attorney went to court to appeal the order giving him citizenship.

Somerset Maugham, 73, who talked last winter about writing his very last book, turned some of his past profits over to the future. Set up in Britain with $60,000 of Maugham money: a foundation to give one young writer a year a trip to some foreign country.

P. G. Wodehouse, Britain's fastest-writing, longest-lasting funnyman, arrived in Manhattan with his wife (who calls him "Plummy") and their beige Pekingese, for a six-month stay that he hoped to extend. "I do think I'd like to live here for the rest of my life," said he. But he said he had some plays he hoped to get produced. His first night was rather makeshift: hotel space was spare, and large, bald Wodehouse had to sleep on a couch. Next day he discovered he couldn't take his Peke into a restaurant with him. About those light-hearted broadcasts from Nazi Germany: they were just thoughtless mistakes. Mrs. Wodehouse explained defensively: "He just didn't realize." Wodehouse, bright enough when it comes to earning his living, said he was now four books ahead of himself, and the first would be out this month: "It's utterly removed from real life."

Mabel Dodge Luhan, veteran salon-keeper and genius-collector, strangely silent after years of holding nothing back in volume after volume of Intimate Memories, was merely busy writing about her neighbors again. Out next fortnight: Taos and Its Artists. Four-times-married Mrs. Luhan, 68, still married to Pueblo Indian Tony after 24 years, talked to a reporter about domesticity and the Gadget Age. Marriage? "I have not analyzed it much for the last 30 years, but it is wonderful. It is a pleasure." Modern times? "If more machinery would break down, sort of gradually, we would all be better off."

A Ringing in the Ears

In Philadelphia, Soprano Kirsten Flagstad (who spent the war in Nazi-occupied Norway) got an ovation and boos. Outside the Academy of Music, pickets paraded; inside, stink bombs went off, detectives battled hecklers, and a free-for-all flowered in the third row orchestra.

In Albany, Baritone Paul Robeson (who likes the way the U.S.S.R. does things) had a singing date yanked out from under him by the Board of Education, which suddenly changed its mind about letting him sing in a local high school. Communist-liner Robeson's sponsors went to court, hoped to force the board to cancel its cancellation.

In Rome, the family of Tenor Beniamino Gigli (who admired the way Mussolini bossed Italy) got anonymous threats by phone and mail. Tenor Gigli, who recently testified in court against some Roman gangsters, is now singing in Switzerland. When he gets home, the threats said, he will be knocked off.

* An honor that is roughly equivalent to, but less solemn than, a Kentucky colonelcy.

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