Farmers urged to pool market trips to conserve auto tires
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The Pittsburgh Press (April 4, 1942)
Rambling Reporter
By Ernie Pyle
PALM SPRINGS, Cal. – Most of my time in Palm Springs has been taken up with work, but I did have one afternoon off to look around a little. And I was amazed at the number of very lonely places to stay. There are scores of places that make your mouth water. I’d like to stay a year and try them all.
They’re all built on the same plan – very low and spread out so the sun can get in. Actually, they’re like tourist courts, except they’re super-modern and set amidst beautiful lawns dotted with bright-colored umbrellas and low chairs, and nearly all have their private swimming pools.
Although my purpose in coming here was to write about Mother Coffman and her Desert Inn, there is one other place that runs neck and neck. That is the Hotel El Mirador.
It is built on the same plan as the inn – vastly spread out. It was built in 1928, and launched with a gigantic wave of movie-star publicity.
The Mirador and Desert Inn are the same size, and their rates are the same. The Mirador is flashier, but they cater to the same class of solid wealth.
Although most visitors to Palm Springs actually come only to rest and get a good shot of sunshine, it was the idea of Hollywood pulchritude out here that finally made Palm Springs known to every cow-puncher and telephone girl in America.
Thrill for Rita Hayworth
It’s funny how people go silly over publicized beauty. Visitors start their eyes out looking for Dorothy Lamour or Marlene Dietrich. But, if the guests at the Mirador, for instance, would just look around them a bit, they’d find a very satisfactory substitute.
I mean Miss Janette Grant, the Mirador’s publicity director. Her main interest in life is journalism. But I’ve taken an option on her anyhow, just in case Hollywood starts nosing around.
One afternoon I went with friends to the Racquet Club. This is a very flossy place, open only to members and their guests. They have room for only 12 people to stay there, but scores come in the afternoon to play tennis, or swim, or sit and drink.
The club is run by Charles Farrell, the former movie actor who used always to play opposite Janet Gaynor. It is a favorite hangout for the movie people.
The afternoon I was there I learned that the lady in white shorts and lots of lipstick at the next table was none other than Miss Rita Hayworth. I didn’t take a pulse count on her, but she did appear thrilled to be sitting so close to me.
It’s haven from the Japs
Palm Springs is considered sort of a haven from Jap bombers, because it’s back behind the treacherous mountains, and there is nothing remotely resembling a military objective here. If the Japs bombed Palm Springs it would be just pure orneriness.
Consequently, people have started sending Mother Coffman their treasured possessions for her to store until after the war. One woman has sent her three boxes of fine China. And Mrs. Coffman’s sister, in Santa Monica, has sent all her treasured Indian baskets.
“Why, that’s silly,” Mrs. Coffman told her, “to send the baskets and not come yourself. Nobody but you cares anything about those old baskets, so why save them if you get killed?”
And her sister replied, “Well, I just love them so much I can’t bear to think of them falling into Japanese hands after I’m gone.”
Mother Coffman, in addition to everything else, is a poet – or a rhymester, as she says.
The inn is given to leaving little printed jingles around the rooms, all decorated up with red sketches, to explain things to the guests. And I learned to my astonishment that Mother Coffman writes them herself… thinks them up at night when she can’t sleep.
The latest one is entitled “Sherman was right. War is hell.” And the poem says:
“Please don’t scold the maid, she’s not to blame,
You’re short on towels and that’s a shame,
But Uncle Sammy, brave and wise,
Has asked us to economize…
If this restriction leaves you numb,
Wait’ll we tackle sugar, chum!”
So, because of this restriction, I’ve had to try keeping clean with only five hand towels, three bath towels, two wash rags and a bath mat each day. A man just can’t do it, that’s all. So I’m leaving before the garbage man starts chasing me.