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Writing in the Satevepost, William D. Hassett, a White House secretary under Franklin D. Roosevelt, quotes his own diary to reflect F.D.R.'s bitter-sweet reaction to a bouncing visitor during World War II: "May 27, 1943: Churchill has concluded a fortnight's visit ... It must be a relief to the Boss, for Churchill is a trying guest sometimes—irregular routine —works nights—sleeps days—turns the clock upside down."
In a quiet suburb of Paris, Yugoslavia's former Queen Alexandra, 32, opened a letter from her husband, exiled King Peter. Reading the King's firm refusal to drop his divorce suit, Alexandra drew blood from one wrist with a penknife, later declared she would have finished the job if, just then, her aunt, Greece's Queen Frederika, had not phoned. When Peter heard how his wife had been saved by the bell, he growled: "This is the fourth time . . . It's nothing serious."
Before the Capitol in Washington, Texas Rancher Eugene M. Biggers presented Wisconsin's Senator Joseph R. McCarthy and his bride with small tokens of some 2,000 Texans' affection: a $6,000 air-conditioned Cadillac and a certificate from Texas Governor Allan Shivers saluting "a real American [who] is now officially a Texan." Said the Senator: "This is the first car I've driven under my own title that was completely paid for."
A 35-car motorcade, escorted by 100 Indonesian cops and guarded all along its route by scores of Tommy-gunners, swerved to a halt in the guerrilla-infested jungle of central Java when a sedan bearing Vice President Richard Nixon blew a tire. A trifle shaken, Nixon hurriedly joined his wife Patricia in another car, was soon on his way again.
In London, Sir John Gielgud, 49, who was knighted last June in recognition of his superb Shakespearean acting, was fined $28 for "persistently importuning male persons for immoral purposes."