The Pittsburgh Press (October 9, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
The biggest mystery of this war to me is the Jap admirals. First, they lose face, and now the rest of their bodies seem to be disappearing. Almost every day a report comes that five or six or 10 more Jap admirals have been killed in action.
For goodness’ sake, who’s killing them? The American Navy can’t even find them, let alone fight them.
I’ll bet the same question puzzles Hirohito when the head of his navy reports:
Oh, Illustrious Emperor, we have won another retreat victory. The American Navy lies at the bottom of the ocean. Their guns did not even touch our ships.
To which Hirohito replied: “Then keep an eye on those sharks, because somebody is knocking off all my top men.”
The Pittsburgh Press (October 10, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
Did you read abut the man who left his 12-month-old baby in a lower berth while he got off the train in Kansas City? When he came back, the train and baby were on their way to Chicago. Everyone says: “How could a man do a thing like that?” That’s what I want to know – how did he get that lower berth?
Have you tried taking he train lately? Last week, George and I asked the ticket seller if we could get space to San Francisco. He said., “Yes, if you can shovel coal.”
But we didn’t have to shovel coal. Goerge finally got a seat and I sat on his lap. Well, not directly on his lap… first came George – then a soldier – then a sailor – then me.
The Pittsburgh Press (October 11, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
Have you seen the latest product of the cigarette shortage – the pipe-smoking girl?
It seems that college coeds started the fad when cigarettes first became scarce and now even the movie actresses here in Hollywood are taking up the pipe. Think what this could do to the movies!
Somehow, I just can’t picture Paul Henreid putting two pipes in his mouth, lighting them and giving one to Bette Davis, as he did with cigarettes in Now, Voyager.
And Ginger Rogers might not have had a career at all. You’ll remember Ginger made her hit as a seductive siren in Young Man of Manhattan with the tagline, “Cigarette me, big boy.” How seductive could she have been, saying, “Corncob pipe me, big boy.”
The Pittsburgh Press (October 12, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
It’s politics, that’s what it is. Here I’ve been waiting around for two months to get one single solitary plumber, and now I read there’s a whole army of plumbers, painters and plasterers cleaning up the buildings of Congress during the present recess.
Goodness, I know Governor Dewey has asked for a housecleaning in Washington, but I didn’t think the Democrats would pay any attention to him.
I understand the favorite pastime of the cleaning men is to sit in the empty chairs of Congress and pretend they’re Senators and Representatives. They even make up laws and “pass” them.
Hey, if we can keep Congress adjourned long enough, we may get some great laws.
The Pittsburgh Press (October 13, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
I’m beginning to think the best thing to do with the war criminals is to put them into some of these post-war kitchens I’ve seen on exhibition. Goodness, they’re frightening!
Everything either pulls out, slides under, or tucks between. From the looks of the gadgets, it would be easier to fly a B-29 over Tokyo than to make George a cup of coffee.
One thing, though, you’d never be bothered with ants. The home planner told me an ant would never enter a kitchen like that. Neither would a cook, I’m afraid.
The last post-war kitchen I saw was painted in shades of orange. The color psychologist told me orange was soothing to the nerves. I can imagine what my Irish cook would say if I asked her to work in a kitchen painted in orange!
The Pittsburgh Press (October 16, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
Well, so far as gentlemanliness and good taste is concerned, I should like to call your attention to the political campaign between Fala, the President’s Scottie, and Canute, the Great Dane belonging to Mr. Dewey.
In spite of the fact that the title for first dog of the country is at stake, both of them have scorned to play politics. Just think how many votes they could get by such cheap devices as, say, kissing puppies, or promising other dogs a bone in every pot.
In fact, being dumb animals, they’ve pulled a couple of political boners. I understand that Fala almost bit Truman, and Canute once growled at Bricker.
So far, there is no indication from Hollywood just which way Lassie is going to throw his support.
The Pittsburgh Press (October 17, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
I read in the paper that the women in England are worried about the shortage of corsets, it seems their figures are becoming almost as global as the war.
They’re demanding more and better corsets and they say if they don’t get them, they’re going to stage a sit-down strike. Well, I don’t wish to meddle in international affairs, but I certainly wouldn’t advise women who don’t have corsets to do too much sitting down. You have no idea how a situation like that can spread.
Here in America, we’re troubled by the girdle shortage. There’s only one pre-war girdle left in my house. After that’s gone, I don’t know what George will do.
The Pittsburgh Press (October 18, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
Now I read they’ve invented a big mechanical brain at Harvard University. It’s several times smarter than a human brain, and, if you ask me, I’m scared. Goodness, I didn’t say anything when the Harvard boys went around swallowing goldfish, but this time they’ve gone too far.
Ladies, imagine how our husbands will take advantage. They’ll get a mechanical brain to do their office work. This will give them the entire day to entertain their pretty secretaries.
If Harvard wanted to invent something, why couldn’t it have been a mechanical lap? Personally, I hope the mechanical brain gets a big headache.
The Pittsburgh Press (October 19, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
Lots of people are saying this political campaign isn’t being handled right, and I, for one, certainly agree with them.
For instance, I haven’t seen a single news photo of a candidate holding a baby. Goodness knows, it would be especially helpful this year, what with so many of the mothers working in war plants.
And why doesn’t one of the candidates take advantage of the cigarette shortage? Many a long face would brighten up with a cigarette in it. If they can get votes by promising “a chicken in every pot,” they should be able to start a landslide by promising “a cigarette in every pan.”
The Pittsburgh Press (October 20, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
I have to laugh at the way Germany and Japan try to boost each other’s morale. When the Germans were retreating pell-mell across France, Tokyo sent congratulations on the magnificent “advance,” and now Berlin has sent congratulations to the Jap fleet for its “victory” off Formosa.
If anyone deserves congratulations, it’s the messenger who was able to find the Jap fleet to deliver the message. There’s a real Sherlock Holmes.
Radio Tokyo says that Adm. Halsey’s fleet has been “annihilated.” This makes the fourth or fifth time that they have “annihilated” the Admiral’s fleet. I’m waiting for the day the Jap messenger rushes into Hirohito’s throne room to deliver that message and finds Adm. Halsey sitting there.
The Pittsburgh Press (October 23, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
It’s really a little early to worry about Christmas, because we’ve got the election to worry about first. Of course, even that isn’t as bad as the year we had two Thanksgivings, and nonpartisan voters got indigestion from eating both Republican and Democratic turkeys. But someone has alarmed our children by telling them the Office of Defense Transportation is going to ask Santa Claus: “Is this trip really necessary?”
And another branch of the government has warned housewives to use their ingenuity because the usual type of Christmas tree ornaments won’t be available this year. Well, I’ve used mine. I’ve found some wonderful ornaments for George to hang on our tree – a wristwatch, a necklace, a new pair of shoes, a fur coat…
Why, I won’t miss the tinsel and glass bulbs one hit.
The Pittsburgh Press (October 24, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
With Gen. MacArthur back in the Philippines and the hara-kiri knives are really flashing.
What a general! But, believe it or not, there are still millions of people who wish that he would drop everything he’s doing and come back here to run for President. Of course, these people couldn’t vote – they live in Japan.
Gen. MacArthur has really become the symbol of fear to the Japs. I read where their government issued free sake wine to boost home-front morale. But it didn’t work. Everyone got drunk and saw little pink MacArthurs.
This must be an awfully confusing war to the Japs, anyway. They call themselves the “sons of heaven” and our boys are sending so many of them to the wrong address.
The Pittsburgh Press (October 25, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
Well, officially, Halloween is supposed to be next Tuesday, but if you ask me, it’s been here too long already. The Democrats have been trying to frighten the Republicans, the Republicans have been trying to frighten the Democrats, and the voters’ polls have been frightening both of them.
And another nice little Halloween touch is furnished by the politicians who run around putting soft-soap on people’s windows so they can’t see what’s really going on.
Of course, the most frightening thing is the booing at the newsreels these days. I wish they’d stop that. George and I were sitting in a theater the other night when the audiences started booing. Poor George – he jumped up and started into his old vaudeville act.
The Pittsburgh Press (October 26, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
Goodness, I wish those radio commentators would be a little more careful about their pronunciations.
Our cook was upset enough when Crosby stayed in England so long, but last night she really had a fit. She heard a commentator say that the British were going to take Sinatra. It wasn’t until this morning that George explained that it wasn’t Sinatra but an island called Sumatra.
It’s a blessing the Allies chased the Nazis out of France so quickly too. The only French town most commentators could pronounce was Paris. And heaven help them now that they’ve got to pronounce cities like Düsseldorf, Kassel, Kissen and Essen. That will really make them sound like they’ve got upper-plate wobble.
The Pittsburgh Press (October 27, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
Well, if you ask me, what the field of international diplomacy really needs is a woman here and there to put some real common sense into it.
For instance, our country had been having a lot of trouble recognizing Gen. de Gaulle. Goodness, I’d know that big, handsome fellow anywhere.
And speaking of recognition, take Turkey.
If you’re talking about fancy diplomacy, there’s a smooth one.
In fact, Turkey has been so clever about being neutral during the entire war, that it’s hard to tell whether the Allies or the Nazis are getting the part that comes over the fence last.
The Pittsburgh Press (October 30, 1944)
Hollywood, California –
We housewives don’t mind rationing, and we smile cheerfully when the clerk sneers and says, “No face tissues.” But one byproduct of this war that’s driving us crazy is the husband who has become a military expert… a parlor paratrooper… an armchair admiral.
I must admit that my husband, George, is one of the charter members of the “Kibitz with Nimitz” and “I’m Palsy with Halsey” clubs. But I will say that George is one of the few coffee-table colonels to be wounded by enemy action.
It was during the fierce fighting around Aachen last week. He was moving the pin representing the Germans when it slipped and jabbed his thumb. We’re giving him the Purple Heart.
The Pittsburgh Press (October 31, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
Have you seen the bulletin just issued to employers by the Office of Defense Transportation? It warns them that men and women are different. Now there’s a piece of news. Thank goodness they’ve made it official. I’d hate to go through life thinking of George as a sister.
The bulletin concludes by advising women to “wear long underwear when working outdoors in winter, and behave in a businesslike manner.” Well now, make up your mind. Personally, I’m still going to wear an overcoat and galoshes.
The Pittsburgh Press (November 1, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
Goodness, there’s a desperate naval recruiting drive on in Japan right now. The slogan is: “Join the Navy and bring your own ship.”
Adm. Nimitz has got them so scared that Japanese admirals are refusing to get into the bathtub without a convoy.
The Japanese diet consists chiefly of raw fish, and our sailors are certainly putting them where they can get them.
But don’t think our own Navy isn’t having trouble, too. It reports a shortage of cigars and chocolate-covered raisins. Well, if someone else will send raisins, I’ll be glad to send a couple of boxes of George’s cigars. But boys, if I were you, I’d smoke the raisins.
The Pittsburgh Press (November 2, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
Well, let’s have no more complaints about food shortages in this country. A German news agency has just announced that the Japs have created a “wonderful new food concocted of rotten wood, sawdust and starch, seasoned with sunshine.”
Now there’s a tasty little dish. Being naturally curious about new recipes, I decided to trey this one. But living in California makes it difficult. How long can I wait for sunshine?
The Germans go or to say that one week of this diet and the persons eating it… “No longer complain of hunger.” Guess why?
The Japs should have no shortage of rotten wood – sea water rots it quickly. But it must be a funny sight to see those Nip cooks in diving suits following their fleet around to do their marketing.
The Pittsburgh Press (November 3, 1944)
By Gracie Allen
Hollywood, California –
Well, I’ve never heard of so many election bets. Why, even Ann Sheridan has promised to go down Hollywood Boulevard made up in blackface if her candidate is defeated. But if she loses the bet, she won’t lose any “oomph.” It’s not the color of her skin that interests the men; it’s the way it fits.
President Roosevelt bets a quarter on each election and admits that he loses every time. My goodness, if he bets a quarter every time he runs, that could run into big money.
George and I have a bet on which candidate will carry California. If I win, George has to give me the money for a new hat. If I lose, I’ll just charge it.