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An oldtime cowboy movie star decided that since television had made him famous all over again, he might as well cash in. His ad in Hollywood's Daily Variety trade sheet: "One of America's greatest Western heroes. Hoot Gibson [58], star of more than 350 feature motion pictures. Guest star on television and radio from coast to coast. Now available . . ."
The very day she was due to take off for a month's junket through Russia, by sufferance of the Soviet government, Eleanor Roosevelt abruptly called off her expedition. Said she: "It would have been impossible for me to do an adequate reporting job . . . without the assistance of a trained magazine journalist or of a man who could speak and read the Russian language." Without stomach for "being at the complete mercy of [a Soviet] interpreter," Mrs. Roosevelt added: "I feel that the Soviet officials, in not granting a visa for a reporter to accompany me, are trying to force me to go to Russia on their terms and are . . . treating me the same way they tried to treat our Government and our allies at Geneva."
In Hollywood, the silent screen's original vamp, heavy-lidded Cinemactress Theda (A Fool There Was) Bara, 64, was whisked off to a hospital for a rush appendectomy.
In London, Princess Margaret, glittering in a diamond necklace and tiara, beamed warmly at the cheering crowd as her coach rolled up to Buckingham Palace, where Britain's royalty wined and dined Sweden's King Gustav VI and Queen Louise, who were making the first state visit of Swedish monarchs to England in 46 years. On her white tulle gown Margaret wore a miniature portrait of another handsome lady, her sister Queen Elizabeth II.
With a competitor's critical eye, Auto Magnate Henry Ford II looked over some Russian cars on display at an industrial fair in Copenhagen. "As far as I can see, these cars are not very good," said he. "They are obviously about the same type of cars we made some 20 years ago."
Smarting under the adamant refusal of Chicago's city building commissioner to give her a liquor license for her highbrow 1020 Art Center (TIME, May 24), Mrs. Ellen Borden Stevenson, ex-wife of Adlai Stevenson, resigned as president of the Modern Poetry Association. But she still planned to toss a few favors and dollars toward Poetry magazine, the flat-broke association's outlet for its members' rhymes, and to make her old family mansion a shrine for longhaired folks. Ever since her Gold Coast neighbors began objecting to the club's intrusion on their quiet life, Ellen Stevenson has been objecting to their cultural lag. By last week, she was on the defensive. Said she: "I now have two lawyers and a business manager helping me keep out of trouble."