The Pittsburgh Press (April 10, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
Well, that United Nations convention at San Francisco is running into snags even before it gets started. I don’t claim to be an expert, but I did cover the two national political conventions last year. And if I can help Mr. Stettinius out with advice, he’s certainly handsome.
First of all, I didn’t think any convention outside Chicago was legal. I know that’s the way Chicago feels. But then the “Big Three” have big enemies, while Mayor Kelly has only a few thousand policemen. So, they may make it back.
And I’d like to point out that there’s going to be trouble if my country asks for too many votes. I know if Russia asks for three and the United States asks for three, Texas is going to insist on the same number.
Oh well, if they can’t work out everything at San Francisco, they can always go to Chicago.
The Pittsburgh Press (April 11, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
HOLLYWOOD – Every day that our boys push farther into Germany they find more buried treasure. Discovering that salt mine full of gold really took everybody by surprise. Why, even Warner Bros. was caught napping and didn’t have a motion picture about it in advance.
Well, it just shows how everything in Germany has gone underground. It may be true that Hitler will turn up in Japan. He’s probably burrowing through the earth now to get there.
But if our boys think they’ve found any gold so far just wait until they find the place where Goering cached his medals! There’s just one thing I can’t understand about that salt mine. The papers say it was full of gold bricks. My goodness, I though Hitler had sold all those to the German people.
The Pittsburgh Press (April 13, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
With the great and eloquent of the world paying their tributes to our late President, I realize how futile will be any effort of mine to pay him homage.
Perhaps I can add in sincerity what I lack in eloquence and just say what every American is thinking.
We have lost a great and beloved leader, and this is a time for sadness and mourning. And it is also a time for determination to carry on the principles which he gave his life to establish.
Let us all work to make his dream of a better and more decent world come true. That will be the finest tribute we can pay him.
The Pittsburgh Press (April 16, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
In all that has been said about our great departed President, nothing has impressed me so much as the emphasis on his being, despite his affliction and his burdens, a kind and a cheerful and a humor-loving man.
It was the great privilege of George and myself to have entertained him, and to have observed at Miss Allen first hand his genuine love of laughter.
I mention this because in all the pictures I have ever seen of any of the dictators, not one has shown a smile or a trace of laughter.
They are enemies of human happiness. President Roosevelt was its friend.
The Pittsburgh Press (April 17, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
Now Hitler knows how a vacuum cleaner salesman feels (or used to feel). One after another, the neutral countries are slamming the door in his face.
There’s a fine moral in this. One day Hitler has his foot on everybody’s neck, and the next day he can’t get his foot in anybody’s door.
Spain doesn’t want him. Portugal won’t have him. Switzerland isn’t in the market for any rundown cuckoo clocks, and he couldn’t get into Sweden disguised as a platter of smorgasbord.
About the only prospect left for Hitler is Japan, and I don’t think the Japs will want him around either. With their place undergoing extensive alterations by B-29s, the guest room isn’t likely to be in the best of shape.
The Pittsburgh Press (April 19, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
Gracious, there’s a report that the Allies have captured Hitler’s personal astrologer in the Ruhr pocket. If he was any good at his trade, he probably knew he’d be a lot safer in that pocket than in Adolf’s.
This astrologer, Professor Krafft, is said to be the one who read in the stars that Hitler would rule the world. That’s just about the biggest typographical error on record.
Personally, I’m surprised that Hitler didn’t sic Himmler and the Gestapo on the stars for not collaborating with him.
Well, with his astrologer gone, about all that Hitler has left now is his intuition. My goodness, I hope we don’t capture that. It’s been doing us too much good where it is.
The Pittsburgh Press (April 20, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
Well, I see where British factories are swinging over from war to civilian production. One factory which used to producer submarine and airplane parts is now producing combs and yoyos! Yoyos… now that’s just about as civilian as you can get.
As you probably know, a yoyo is a top that spins up and down on a string, and I’m trying to figure why, with all their shortages, the British are in such a hurry to make tops.
But apparently Englishmen have a great fondness for tops. I’ve heard them speak to the little things in such endearing terms as “Cheerio, old top,” or “Jolly well played, old top.”
So, Britain will have plenty of them, but personally I just can’t picture their representatives at the peace conference spinning a yoyo.
The Pittsburgh Press (April 21, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
Well, now I’ve heard everything.
There’s an ad in a Hollywood paper by a movie writer who wants to pay people $1 an hour to come to his house and make domestic noises. Solitude distracts him and he wants to hear “homey sounds” while he works.
“Homey sounds,” I guess that’s what I’m listening to right now. There’s that rumbling noise which tells me our daughter is trying out the new finish on the front room floor with her roller skates… a piercing scream from the bathroom means once again George has forgotten to remove our boy’s pet snapping turtle before climbing into the tub… and a crash of glass announces the official opening of the vacant-lot baseball season.
Nice “homey noises.” I’ll be glad to send my little “homey noise” makers over to the movie writer. And he can keep the $1-a-hour. He will need it to repair the damage.
The Pittsburgh Press (April 23, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
HOLLYWOOD – Did you read the account of that argument in the Senate, about the state in which people lived the longest?
Sen. Chandler of Kentucky admitted that people lived as long in California as they did in his state, but no longer. Sen. Pepper said they lived longer in Florida than anywhere else; and Sen. Tobey practically declared that when anybody died in New Hampshire it drove the war off the front page.
Of course, as a Californian, I believe people live longer here than in any other place – if they can find a place to live. My husband, George, has narrowed it down even more than that. He says that people live longer in our house than in any other place – especially my relatives.
That’s a husband for you. Your mother comes for a little ten-year visit and he complains.
The Pittsburgh Press (April 24, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
I think it’s reassuring that President Truman gets up at 6:30, because there probably isn’t anyone in Washington able to get up early enough to put anything over on him.
Mr. Truman is used to early rising, having lived on a farm, where the alarm clocks are running around all over the place – grunting, crowing, cackling and neighing, making the same kind of noises human beings do in nightclubs or in Congress.
I see that when Mr. Truman was walking to work early in the morning he was greeted by a taxi driver. So that’s when taxi drivers are around!
Anyway, I think our new President is setting a splendid example. Benjamin Franklin said, “Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.”
I’m glad he didn’t say “a woman.” I can still sleep late.
The Pittsburgh Press (April 25, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
SAN FRANCISCO – Well, here I am in San Francisco where the most brilliant minds of our time are gathered for the world security conference.
I told my editor that I don’t belong here but he said he was sending me to get “color.” That shows how much he knows – it’s so foggy I haven’t got one bit of color.
My goodness, this city simply is teeming with delegates from all over the world. No matter where you turn, you bump into a Russian. It’s just like being in Berlin.
There’s been talk of a food shortage so maybe it’s fortunate the Russians sent that shipload of caviar and vodka. I can just picture all the delegates down on the docks, standing in a caviar-and-vodka line. Probably much nicer than a bread line.
The Pittsburgh Press (April 26, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
SAN FRANCISCO – Well, sign language has really come into its own here. With representatives of 46 nations speaking almost as many languages, it was a case of necessity.
There’s one sign that means “Have you any steak?” another that means “Where Can I Find a Taxi?” and another to ask “Have You a Vacant Hotel Room?”
The San Franciscans have no trouble with the sign language. All they have to learn is to shake their heads “no.”
Not only do these foreign delegates have strange languages, but even stranger beards. Old settlers say there haven’t been so many beards here since the days of the “Forty-Niners.”
I didn’t know which hotel to try to get into when I first arrived, but when I saw the Egyptian delegation go into the Palace Hotel, I realized that was the place for me. From what the Egyptians were wearing I knew they must have sheets there.
The Pittsburgh Press (April 27, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
SAN FRANCISCO – My, I’m proud of my hometown of San Francisco. I sat in the Opera House here today and listened to the World Security Conference going on in 46 different languages. I’m afraid I didn’t understand much of it. It was just like the old days when I listened to opera here.
But, oh girls, just before the conference I met our Mr. Stettinius and Britain’s Anthony Eden. I honestly think they are two of the handsomest and most distinguished-looking men I have ever met. I like to be around that type of man. That’s why I married George Burns.
Mr. Molotov is one of the most important figures here. They say he brought his own chef and waiter. Everyone is pulling strings to get an introduction to the chef.
The Pittsburgh Press (April 28, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
SAN FRANCISCO – Well, girls, I predict we’re going to be in for some new fashions as a result of the World Security Conference.
Personally, I don’t think I’d care for those veils up to the eyes that the Egyptian women are wearing. But I’ve learned from the Russian women how to solve the nylon stocking problem. They just wear boots that come up to their dresses.
Yes, there are many different fashions here, but girls, we all have something in common. There is not a pre-war girdle in any language.
Seriously, we’ve got to quit feeling that other people are strange just because they’re different. I never could understand how a person speaking only English thought it funny to hear broken English spoken by a foreigner who spoke ten other languages, too.
The Pittsburgh Press (April 30, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
SAN FRANCISCO – Lately, I’ve thought I was lucky to get a taxi in English, but here at the World Security Conference you can get foreign ones. They carry signs in different languages saying “Greek (or Russian or French) spoken here.” At least that’s what people tell me the signs say.
And this “share the ride” plan is certainly exciting when nobody knows what the other sharers are talking about.
Sometimes they get fooled, though. Yesterday, my companion and I were battling away in our own language when an Oriental veiled lady sharing the ride turned to me and said “Oh, so you like Charles Boyer, too?”
But don’t be misled by this movie nonsense, girls. Yesterday at the Conference I sat next to two sheiks in sheets. Did they try to carry off little Gracie to be a desert queen? Well, my address is still the Palace Hotel.
The Pittsburgh Press (May 1, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
SAN FRANCISCO – The officials of the World Security Conference thought of everything. When they hear loose talk that this nation or that nation is going to be made the “goat” of the conference, they just smile.
Because the conference is already provided with goats. The Egyptian delegation brought their own, for the milk.
I went to see the goats at the hotel where the Egyptians are staying and found them much more communicative than the diplomats. When I asked them if they thought there would be trouble over the Polish question, the goats said, “Bah!”
Speaking of goats, somebody certainly got the goat of a man with the American delegation. He was told the White House was calling him. He got on the phone, trembling – and found the call came from the “White House,” a local store.
The Pittsburgh Press (May 2, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
Well, I’m back home from the World Security Conference, and am I proud of my cities – San Francisco where I was born, and Los Angeles, that big suburb of Beverly Hills where I live.
I just knew it would be a Los Angeles man who’d be the first to meet the Russians. They met in the heart of Germany, and that, as the old saying goes, is practically within the Los Angeles city limits.
That certainly was a joyous occasion. It couldn’t have been more dramatic if it had been arranged by the Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce. The Los Angeles-Russian meeting, by the way, has perked up our Chamber of Commerce as rain does a wilted flower. It wasn’t feeling so hot when San Francisco drew the world conference – but now California is happy at both ends.
The Pittsburgh Press (May 3, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
My goodness, I’ll never get to understand those Japanese. Did you hear about that Tokyo broadcast which declared that our air raids were good for their morale? The theory was that the more private property was destroyed, the less property they would have left to worry about.
This reasoning so impressed me that I made up a little poem:
Every time we bomb the Jap,
Cries the pleased, slap-happy chap:
“Honorable house has went–
So no more worry over rent!”
I don’t think that Japanese philosophy is going to work here, though. I tried it on George by suggesting that if he burned all his shirts he wouldn’t have to worry about their not coming back from the laundry. He didn’t say anything, but he keeps watching me suspiciously out of the corner of his eye.
The Pittsburgh Press (May 4, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
With the grisly news these days, it’s a relief to get your mind on something else for a few minutes.
George dives into the sports pages for escape. He says that when he sees the Philadelphia Nationals are still in last place, he feels there’s a little left of the old normal world.
I try to find release in the fashion magazines but the perfume ads frighten me almost more than the headlines. My goodness, according to those ads, a girl takes her life in her hands if she dares to use a modern perfume.
Just a dab of one brand and a mustached man with a violin grabs you. Just touch the stopper of “Don’t You Dare” and there’s a howling wolfpack on your trail.
Excuse me, girls, I’m going out and buy some perfume.
The Pittsburgh Press (May 7, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
Since President Truman has signed that bill so the Kennebunkport, Maine, post office can have a new mural I won’t enter the controversy about the one there now. Maybe the bathing beach ladies are too fat and haven’t enough clothes, but after all, post-office art is still in its infancy.
Why, once the only art you saw in post offices were posters showing front and side views of men’s faces, labeled “Wanted! Reward!” – the most depressing kind of faces, too.
It wasn’t as if they couldn’t have put up nice attractive faces, like Clark Gable’s or Van Johnson’s. But I suppose the post-office officials just belonged to the modern realistic school of art, and never thought of what they were doing to the morale of their public.
George says he’s for less art in post offices, and more and better pens.
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