The Pittsburgh Press (July 30, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
HOLLYWOOD – Winston Churchill has shown us how he wins a war, and now he shows us how gracefully he can lose an election. Either way, he looks like a champion to George and me.
Of course, Clement Attlee, who defeated him, is pretty smart, too. While Attlee was in San Francisco, he was a dinner guest of some American friends and insisted on washing the dishes afterwards. That family doesn’t know yet whether he was being a perfect guest, or on account of the shortages in Europe he just wanted the thrill of putting his hands in real, soapy water again.
My own theory of the English election is that Churchill got some of his own brand of cigars for his campaign managers to pass out, and they did. After the managers passed out, that was the finish of the election.
The Pittsburgh Press (July 31, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
George Bernard Shaw, the famous old playwright, who always seems to be losing his temper, just celebrated his 89th birthday.
My butcher told me about it. My butcher said Mr. Shaw is a vegetarian, and that if you want to be 89 years old and smart, the way to do it is to live on carrots and rutabagas, and not come around pestering butchers for steaks and pot roasts.
Personally, I don’t think much of Mr. Shaw’s vegetarian theory. I always wanted George to be literary, so I once put him on a vegetable diet for three months, and at the end of it he still couldn’t write a line.
In fact, he’s been kind of delicate ever since. I pointed out to George that Mr. Shaw spent his 89th birthday working. George said he didn’t mind waiting until his 89th birthday to go to work.
The Pittsburgh Press (August 1, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
I read where Hermann Goering is afraid of thunder and lightning.
If I had his record I would be, too. It probably reminds him of the Allied Air Force.
Goering is in an extra bad spot during a thunderstorm because no bed is high enough for anyone of his build to crawl under.
The story said that Goering was in such bad shape as a result of that thunderstorm that it might mean as much as his life is worth to put him on trial for mass murder.
Well, I think he ought to have a little rest before his trial. Send him to one of those lovely little Nazi resort cities like Belsen or Buchenwald where he sent so many others. And fellow, will you be sure to give Hermann a nice room with a view?
The Pittsburgh Press (August 2, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
The police are afraid to question suspicious looking characters these days for fear they’ll turn out to be members of a Congressional committee investigating something or other.
It seems there are more groups of congressmen traveling to all parts of the glob than there were parties of explorers in the days of Columbus.
I hear the Navy is fighting to keep its old slogan from being changed to “Join Congress and See the World.”
George says that in the old days when a strange white man dropped in on a savage tribe, they hailed him as a god. Now they ask him to get them an appropriation.
The next thing we’ll have on our hands will be strangers at the back door saying they are congressmen soliciting magazine subscriptions so they can investigate their way through college.
The Pittsburgh Press (August 3, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
The fat-salvage campaign is getting somewhere.
Housewives have been turning in their waste grease to the butchers for two years.
Now Pierre Laval has turned himself in. It’s certainly a pitiful sight. It looks as though Laval hasn’t a friend in the world left to double-cross.
When arrested he probably told the truth for the first time in his life when he said he wished he was in New York. And he was about the only “big shot” among our enemies who had his own wife with hm at the finish.
He’s certainly the right type for a traitor. Even his name is two-faced. No matter if you spell it forward or backward, it still spells Laval.
The Pittsburgh Press (August 6, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
My goodness, Clare Boothe Luce has picked a fine way to spend her vacation from Congress. She’s going to do the starring part in George Bernard Shaw’s Candida and if that isn’t a mailman’s holiday, I don’t know what is.
There’s not really much difference in being in Congress and on the stage, except in Congress you’re in for a two-year run no matter how bad you are. Of course, if you’re in Congress you don’t have to show up for every performance. If actors did that, too, it certainly would improve a lot of plays.
I think Mrs. Luce will find that Congress is even stagier than the stage. Why? A good congressman, one who can keep on getting elected, can put more tears into his plea for a new post office than Eliza ever drew crossing the ice.
The Pittsburgh Press (August 7, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
HOLLYWOOD – I’ve been reading about the Petain trial and I honestly think the French way of trying people is better than ours.
Take the jury, for instance. When members of the Petain jury got bored with the testimony, they read newspapers or worked crossword puzzles or just plain went to sleep. Over here the poor things have to listen, even if they don’t know which end of the plaintiff to mark with their ballots.
George says that in our courts only the lawyers can yell and I believe him, because George, like most husbands, is an authority on yelling. But in those French courts anybody – judge, jury, witnesses, spectators – can get into it and yell. We talk about justice being blind, but in France it must be deaf, too.
Anyhow, I like the spirit of everybody joining in the game and if the prisoner is found guilty, he doesn’t mind so much going to jail where things are quiet.
The Pittsburgh Press (August 8, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
HOLLYWOOD – Nowadays, with the nations of the world settling their differences at the conference table I don’t see why California and Florida can’t do the same and make a gentleman’s agreement. Goodness, it shouldn’t be any more difficult than the lion and the lamb lying down together although I’ve always wondered if the lamb was inside or outside the lion at the time.
For instance, I notice that Florida admits the mosquitos are pretty heavy there now. Ordinarily Californians would make a sarcastic remark but under the new gentleman’s agreement they couldn’t take advantage like that. They’d have to be polite and report that a Laguna Beach farmer had caught 140 skunks in one week in his corn patch. More gentlemanly, isn’t it?
And if the Golden State had any mosquitos its inhabitants would admit that too, but you never find them in California.
The Pittsburgh Press (August 9, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
HOLLYWOOD – Well, it looks as though science has gone and invented something almost as destructive as the little boy next door. It is something called an atomic bomb and there is a rumor that the Japanese generals refer to it as the “atom’s apple.” Guess this is because they get a lump in their throats every time they think about it.
But science claims the atoms can be useful in other ways, and that someday atomic energy will do all our housework. Why, they say a little bit of it the size of a pea can drive an ocean liner around the world. Can you imagine!
No one used to believe me when I said my husband, George, was so strong even when he had muscles the size of a pea, and George was always too proud to prove it to them.
The Pittsburgh Press (August 10, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
HOLLYWOOD – Goodness, they simply can’t stop talking about the atomic bomb at our house. Even the cook spends more time gossiping about splitting the atom than she does about breaking up of Hollywood marriages.
Why, it seems once you crack an atom, you get so much power you can do anything. I wouldn’t be surprised if we’ll soon be able to get the tops off aspirin bottles and open windows in railroad cars.
I suppose the song writers and movie companies will get in on the atom idea, too. We’ll have songs like “Ah, Sweet Molecule of Life” and “Explodable You.” In the movies, poor Errol Flynn will have a lifetime career of keeping villains away from the atom secrets. But personally, I think any picture about atom-smashing should include Van Johnson. He’s already made plenty of us girls go to pieces.
The Pittsburgh Press (August 13, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
Well, I see they may put the capitol of the United Nations here in California next to Stanford University. It’s also close by the home of ex-President Hoover who has practically retired from public life since he’s been having trouble getting his collars back from the laundry.
George says it’s too bad the United Nations’ capital isn’t in South Bend, Indiana. If you’re looking for cooperation among nationalities, he says, did you ever look at the lineup of a Notre Dame football team?
Goodness, I hope the collegiate atmosphere doesn’t affect the diplomats. It will be funny to see them in top hats and striped trousers riding around in a jalopy with “Hi, Babe!” painted on the fenders. And I hear the United Nations are trying to avid “economic hazards.” If that’s the case I’d advise them to look out for those Stanford co-eds.
The Pittsburgh Press (August 14, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
HOLLYWOOD – Goodness me, I can remember when little boys all wanted to grow up to be either firemen or baseball players. But since the atomic bomb, I’ve found out they all want to become scientists. If that keeps up, some day we won’t have anything but women for firemen, and the pitcher for Brooklyn will be someone by the name of Gwendolyn. George says she would be an improvement.
Anyhow, I don’t believe that a country full of scientists would be much fun. Husbands would spend all day looking at tiny things like atoms and molecules and when they came home, they’d be sure to notice if their wives had put on an extra ounce of weight. And if everybody was a famous scientist, just think how hard it would be on Don Ameche. He’d have a nervous breakdown trying to play them all in pictures.
The Pittsburgh Press (August 15, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
HOLLYWOOD – Dear me, it looks as though the throne room isn’t the only place where kings get into trouble. I see where King Gustav of Sweden just fell down in his bathtub. It must have made an awful big splash, because he’s way over six feet tall – a real king-sized king. Not a bit like that tiny Victor Emmanuel of Italy. When that one gave the Fascist salute, he looked like a little boy asking for permission to leave the room.
I hope that business of a slippery bathtub doesn’t give enemy agents ideas for a new system of accidental assassination. The old-fashioned way of throwing a bomb at royalty looks pretty suspicious in the eyes of police. But they wouldn’t get suspicious if you just stood outside the palace door with a banana peel in your hand.
The Pittsburgh Press (August 16, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
HOLLYWOOD – With peace, the housewives of America already are thinking about post-war problems.
For instance, what to do with their old ration books.
Goodness, you could shove them under a chair that has a short leg, or doodle on them while you’re making a phone call, or line your pantry shelves with them.
Probably the best idea is to use them as a cure for insomnia. People who can’t sleep are supposed to count sheep. But when you think of sheep, other things like old gin rummy scores or new dresses keep sneaking in.
It would be easier to count red ration points which represent meat, because, after all, that’s what sheep are.
I asked George what to do with the old ration books and he said, “Burn ‘em.” Men have absolutely no imagination.
The Pittsburgh Press (August 17, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
HOLLYWOOD – Well, goodness, the excitement is starting to die down enough so I can catch my breath.
My husband, George, was so emotionally carried away, he snapped his fingers right under the nose of our neighborhood butcher. Fortunately the butcher didn’t hear it, as George hadn’t eaten enough meat lately to be able to snap his fingers very loud.
Anyway, that poor butterfly in Japan can stop singing about her sailor now. The American Navy is not only coming back, but the Army, the Air Force and General MacArthur are coming along, too.
And if Tokyo housewives think they’ve suffered already, wait until they get a phew-wiff of the General’s corn-cob pipe.
But do you realize what General MacArthur has achieved? He’s the first Republican in years to get a steady job running a country.
The Pittsburgh Press (August 20, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
HOLLYWOOD – Well, even after they surrendered, those tricky Japanese figured out a way to make us suffer. By telling us the war is over and then waiting for days to make it official, the Japs have forced us into a long celebration that is taxing the strength of many fine Americans.
If it doesn’t stop soon, we’ll be too weak to wave a flag. In fact, one more week-long celebration like this past one and the United States would be too exhausted to defend itself against an invasion of midgets with bows and arrows.
Each morning, citizens get up and stagger out to see if the Armistice has been signed. Finding it hasn’t, with a moan, pitiful but patriotic, they prepare for another day of celebration. And if you think the atomic bomb was frightening, folks, wait till you live through what will probably go down in history as an atomic hangover.
The Pittsburgh Press (August 21, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
HOLLYWOOD – Girls, did you hear what I heard? They say that by January we’ll be able to buy nylons again and I can think of no better way to start the new year off on the right foot, or the left one either. It’s been so long since nice looking legs were legal. Wen’s legs are like bridge prizes. They should be both useful and ornamental, but seldom are.
With nylons coming in, now I can use my last bottle of leg makeup to finish panting the lawn furniture. Leg makeup – I’ve seen women who looked as if one leg had stayed home while the other one went to the beach for a sun-tan.
I’m sure the men will like the idea of nylon being used for stockings instead of parachutes. Not once during the war did I see one of them straining their necks to look at a parachute.
The Evening Star (August 22, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
HOLLYWOOD – Well, I see that Mr. Henry Kaiser who used to build almost as many ships a day as Japan lost in a day, is going to build automobiles soon. He plans to turn out a complete car for about $500 and send it through the mail. It’s really something new in the mail order business and I’ll bet Mr. Sears and Mr. Roebuck are still glaring at each other for not thinking of it first.
I’ll tell you one thing, though. If all these cars are coming by mail. I’d suggest that Mr. Kaiser better design a new type of feet for the mailmen who deliver them. As it stands now, Mr. McGuiness, our postman, is already so worn out he barely has time to read over the postcards in his mailbag anymore.
The Pittsburgh Press (August 23, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
HOLLYWOOD – Well, the OPA, which is evidently celebrating the end of the war in its own little way, has caught me flatfooted again. I woke up this morning and found they’ve gone and taken the price ceilings off birdcages, spinning wheels, glass furniture, wigs, magicians’ tricks and other useful things. Goodness, the spinning wheel item surprised me. I didn’t know we had an OPA during the Revolutionary War too.
I was heartbroken to find the ceiling was off glass furniture. If I’d only been smart while the price was low, I’d have bought some entirely glass beds, so the maid couldn’t sweep dust under them.
But I’m not as unlucky as some folks. I can imagine how Jack Benny will suffer when he sees that the ceiling price has been taken off wigs and toupees.
The Pittsburgh Press (August 24, 1945)
By Gracie Allen
HOLLYWOOD – Well, Emperor Hirohito’s white horse is getting to be even more famous as an animal than Mary’s little lamb. Which is only fair, since it was discovered the horse was born in California, and the lamb wasn’t. At least, not recently, according to my butcher.
It just goes to show that you can’t keep a native Californian down. They took this one clear across the ocean to a foreign country where he didn’t know a word of the language, put a harness in his mouth, and a son of heaven on his back, and he still got most of the newspaper notices.
Goodness knows, I don’t know what the horse’s post-war plans are, but they’re undoubtedly brighter than his Japanese master’s. My guess is, being a blond, the horse will probably turn up at Mr. Zanuck’s movie emporium with Betty Grable and my friend Flicka.