The Pittsburgh Press (December 26, 1945)
Othman: Oddities in review
By Fred Othman
WASHINGTON – This is the season of the year when the financial writers produce their year-end reviews. The Hollywood correspondents tell which divorcees got married again in 1945. The international experts sum up the doubletalk for the last 12 months.
They get paid for this. Or it’s nice work if you can get it – and I’ve got a good memory, too. Let’s take a look at 1945 in this, our nation’s capital:
Fred G. Orsinger, the fish expert of the Interior Department, found a sea monster named Percival in the Potomac River. The Army tried to explain the multi-million-dollar road it did not build in Central America.
Six zebras committed suicide in the National Zoological Gardens. That dope, Othman, flew around the world with the Air Transport Command. Chairman Adolph Sabath of the all-powerful House Rules Committee collapsed in the excitement of an argument and fell off his chair.
White House gets coat of paint
President Truman gave his house a fresh coat of white paint.
A lady (all right, she wasn’t a lady) lost most of her clothes on Pennsylvania Ave, celebrating V-J Day. Harry Hopkins got himself a job as cloak-and-suit czar. Clement Attlee made a four-billion-dollar touch. He also made a speech, but it was off the record and I can’t tell you about it.
Congress paid Rastus Davis $100 for his watermelons, swiped by the U.S. Army. The National Retail Dry Goods Association opened a dry goods store in the House Office Building (and moved it later to the Senate) to prove that the OPA was responsible for your lack of underwear. Every other day at 10:20 a.m., Chester Bowles appeared before one congressional committee or another to defend himself.
Jake Goldberg, the New York auctioneer charged by the Senate with racketeering practices in the sale of surplus federal property, described himself as a hard-working merchant, trying to get ahead in the mother-of-pearl toilet seat industry.
The Army made a slight miscalculation and ordered up 50 million more wool blankets than it really needed. Sen. Joseph C. O’Mahoney of Wyoming said there never was such a big surplus of wool in the world; he wondered why he couldn’t get himself a new suit.
Bilbo seemed to tangle with everyone
End of the war brought on a succession of high-society shindigs. Never did the capital’s clawhammer coat rental agencies enjoy such a boom. Sen. Homer Capehart of Indiana made a speech about his troubles trying to buy a hard-boiled shirt.
Two congressmen, whom I shall not name because of peace and good will toward all men, made the same speech, word for word, on the same day. Neither would admit they were patronizing the same press agent, who didn’t like the ruptured duck insignia for discharged servicemen. That, at least, is what both speeches were about.
Sen. Theodore G. (The Man) Bilbo of Mississippi, seemed to tangle with nearly everybody; he never knew which anti-Bilbo organization would be picketing him next. Having spent 11 solid months of searching, my bride rented us a house. It wasn’t much of a house, but it looked like a palace to us. Still does.
Only man in the country with enough white shirts was President Truman. They arrived by the dozens when he announced his were getting frayed at the collar.
Hey, this is fun and I’m only getting a good start. There’ll be more later in these precincts (unless I get fired first) about the incredible year about to go down in history as 1945.