Thoughts & Afterthoughts

Dr. Harold C. Urey, director of the War Research Atomic Bomb Project (1940-45), got right to the point. The U.N., he declared, is "one of the most inadequate organizations for the enormous problems before it that could possibly be devised."

General Jonathan Wainwright, another blunt speaker, delivered a minority opinion: "I cannot get out of my head that when we turn the Nips loose they will rearm, as fast as they are able. I don't think we've sold democracy to them."

Boogie-Woogie Artist Hazel Scott put in a long-distance call to Switzerland to chat with her fan, Princess Anne (who had revealed in LIFE that she "loved to listen to Hazel"), came up with a scoop of sorts: the big wedding would probably be in Copenhagen in April--not May, as most gossips have reported.

Arnold J. Toynbee, wispy British historiographer whose magnum opus, A Study of History, is six volumes long already, arrived in the U.S. to work on the final three volumes. Why did he think his work (in condensed form) had become a U.S. bestseller? "It's very funny," he admitted. "Maybe because . . . America was entering the main stream of history and Americans wanted to know more about it."

Harold Taylor, earnest young (33) president of earnest young (20) Sarah Lawrence College, defined the current ideal American: "One who tells all his secrets without being asked, believes we should be prepared for war with Russia, holds no political view without prior consultation with his employer, does not ask for increases in salary or wages, and is in favor of peace, universal military training, brotherhood, and baseball."

Boston's popular, ex-convict Mayor James Michael Curley, addressing the United Spanish War Veterans, plumped for MacArthur for President, but doubted that his man would make it. Both parties, his honor averred, want "a passive man who would appease Wall Street and the C.I.O.," so they shipped MacArthur overseas "to destroy him."

Joe Louis, planning to retire from the ring after one more fight next June, was giving some thought to a new job. Off for an exhibition tour of England, with wife Marva, Joe mused to shipboard reporters: "Some kind of politics . . . but I don't know what kind." He hadn't decided when, but "everybody eventually goes into politics."

Railroad Tycoon Robert R. Young, doing some election-year thinking about a presidential candidate, spoke out for the magazine Advertising Age: "There are 10,000 businessmen who would be a better President than any of the men now considered." The interviewer wanted to know if he included himself. Mr. Young nodded.

Flesh & Blood

New York City's Mayor William O'Dwyer, keeping up a brisk pace after being advised to slow down, was hustled off to the hospital. Nothing to worry about, the doctors said.

John P. Marquond's younger daughter Blanche Ferry, 7, came down with appendicitis in Nassau, was flown to Miami for an operation, flown back again afterwards.

Young Arthur MacArthur, the general's only son, broke out with chicken pox in Tokyo on the eve of his tenth birthday.

John J. Pershing's adjutant, pooh-poohing a radio report that the 87-year-old general was critically ill, described the patient as "chipper and cheerful."

Trials & Tribulations

The Rumanian cabinet took away ex-King Carol's Rumanian citizenship and such worldly goods as he left behind when he abdicated in 1940. Plain Mr. Hohenzollern, they decided, had "slandered" the state. His son, plain Mr. Michael Hohenzollern is allowed to keep his citizenship and part of his fortune.

In London, Major Horace Elgin Dodge, high-flying U.S. auto heir, came out of a British court tussle with his fortune undamaged but his self-esteem dented. Lord Chief Justice Goddard had decided against an art dealer who was suing Dodge for $27,200, the uncollected price of a painting. Dodge had claimed that the painting was a bogus Sir Thomas Lawrence, which he never would have bought if he had been sober. Commented the Lord Chief Justice: "Dodge was behaving . . . as what would be described in his own country as a common drunk."

In London, Cabbie Elmo Poluck felt a sharp jolt from behind, climbed out to pay his respects to the other driver. "What's your name and address?" he demanded. The embarrassed reply: the Duke of Edinburgh. "Then," Poluck reported, "something inside me brain clicked, and I looked up and said, 'Oh, oh, so it is!' Then I lost my equilibrium. ... I saw the Princess smiling inside the car, so I raised my hat to her and she nodded back. Then they drove away."

Princess Elizabeth provided additional excitement by appearing unannounced at the trial of a twelve-year-old girl accused of waywardness. When she recognized the Princess, the press reported happily, the girl moaned: "Whatever will she think of me? I'll never be naughty again!"

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.