Names make news. Last week these names made this news:
Introduced to Cinemactress Marilyn Monroe at a Hollywood party given by Comic Bob Hope, Major General William F. Dean said, according to gossipists: "Meeting you almost makes up for my not seeing a woman in 36 months."
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Seated before a serving of calf's head in Manhattan's "21" restaurant, Hermione Gingold, old darling of the London comedy stage, who is now playing her first Broadway hit (John Murray Anderson's Almanac), got off some mouthfuls between mouthfuls. On Englishmen as lovers: "The trouble with most of them is inbreeding--and eating all those Brussels sprouts." On a top-heavy Hollywood starlet: "It's amazing how far a girl can crawl on her bosom."
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Top Communist Robert G. Thompson, who hid out in the California mountains for two years, dodging a three-year sentence for conspiracy, got a stiff penalty for playing hooky. A U.S. district court judge found him guilty of contempt, tacked another four years onto his stretch.
In Paris, Cinemactress Gene Tierney, although she is "devoted" to her constant companion Aly Khan, brushed aside thoughts of marrying the prince right now. Said she: "Home life is important in marriage, and Ali's geared for going places. His job and horses take him out a lot ... But I like things real cozy."
Braving 20DEG weather, Harry and Bess Truman, along with daughter Margaret, who came home for the holidays, mustered slightly frozen smiles at a ceremony in Independence, Mo., where the former President snipped a 30-ft. red ribbon to open a new section of the 20-mi. Truman Road trafficway. Later, warming up to his subject at an indoor luncheon, Truman made a plea for safer driving, said he hoped the thoroughfare "will be used for traffic instead of a new scene for slaughter."
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The Department of Justice announced that Canadian-born Mrs. Anita Boyer Field, 36, wife of party-lining Millionaire Frederick Vanderbilt Field, headed off into Mexico early this month. Her voluntary move was made, with Justice's blessing, so that she might avoid deportation on charges that she illegally entered the U.S. from Canada. With her went Michel, 12, and Elise, 9, her children by Dr. Raymond Boyer, former McGill University chemistry professor who did a two-year stretch for passing Canadian secrets to Soviet spies during World War II.
At the height of largesse time, Illinois' Senator Paul Douglas suggested a rule for politicos to follow in deciding whether to accept Christmas gifts from lobbyists and such. His advice: "It is suicide for elected officials to reject all gifts. People would think you were weaned on a pickle and lack the human juices . . . When gifts arrive, if they appear to be worth more than $2.50, they are sent back ... I don't think there is much chance of a Senator being corrupted by $2.50."
In Paris, Surrealist Artist Salvador Dali, looking pretty surrealistic himself, was persuaded to exhibit his newly elongated waxed mustache. To nobody's surprise, Dali explained that his latest creation served a real function: "It is like an aerial, stretching out to capture genius and inspiration, pointing to heaven like the spires of a cathedral."
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Lifting her husky baritone in a Las Vegas nightspot, Marlene Dietrich, Hollywood's favorite grandmother, made her $30,000-a-week debut as a saloon singer, entranced the boys in the front room with such wistful ditties as See What the Boys in the Back Room Will Have and Lili Marlene. But the sensation of her act, eclipsing her off-key warbling, was her getup: a $3,000 black net gown which, from the waist up, was transparent, except for an occasional sequin or rhinestone. The blase gambling crowd gasped. Asked what she had on underneath the opaque part, Marlene purred: "A garter belt." Back in Hollywood, Jean Louis, the studio dress designer who created the slit-skirted spectacle as a gesture of defiance toward movie censors, deplored Marlene's modesty. "I wanted to make the skirt transparent to show her legs, but she didn't want that," grieved Jean Louis. "I was heartbroken."
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On a visit to Sicily, U.S. Ambassador to Italy Clare Boothe Luce got word that she had topped the Associated Press poll as the woman of the year in politics.
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On a foray into enemy territory, Los Angeles' Mayor Morris Poulson visited Philadelphia (1950 pop. 2,071,605), which is currently fighting an unofficial census battle with the California city (1950 pop. 1,970,358) over which is now bigger. Mayor Poulson's embarrassing mission was to inspect a new method of dispelling smoke and fumes. Goaded by Philadelphia newsmen to make a statement on smog in his land of sunshine, Poulson manfully retorted: "We don't have it continuously, you understand. It's just seasonal."
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