His plumage was vivid and vulgara sport shirt with a palm-leaf motif, sometimes a tie with a bulb-breasted nude. His Stetson sat squarely on top of his head, a cigar grew out of the right corner of his mouth, and he glinted at the world through rimless, hexagonal glasses. Readers of Lord Beaverbrook's Daily Express could spot him at a glance: he was "the loud American." For the past nine years he has swaggered regularly through the frontpage, one-column panel drawn by one of England's most popular cartoonists: urbane, grandly mustached Osbert Lancaster, London...
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