The Wilmington morning star., 1946-01-06
Your New York Correspondent
WALTER WINcHELL
AM AMERICAN IN PARIS

! Paris is like midnight madonna again
walking the streets after two years in jail.
Her cheeks are painted, but her eyes are
dead. Here's a city of four million without
| coal-a midway without ights-Coney Island
In the wintertime. The only thing that burns
and gives off heat is in the eyes of De Gaulle.
I came here from London via boat-train.
AS entered the Hotel Raphael met Guthrie
McClintic, one of our drama heavyweights
He had just come up from Biarritz where
he had staged G. I. version Of 'Winterset."
We have both lived on the same block for
years-our homes are that far apart. But we
had never met. Here we shook hands, grinned
and ordered drink. At that morning we
switched from cognac to champagne. Now
that we're both home are we ringing each
others doorbells? Don't be silly. You don't
do such things in New York!
Ella Logan Joined our party. Without grip
ing, without throwing her weight around, she's
been singing her sweet head off for G. I. Joe.
And has been doing it for two years. Here
in the States her cafe salary is 81, 900 week.
Make no mistake about it, this bonnie breath
of Broadway is the Elsie Janis of World War
II.
The news about Chevalier couldn't be better.
A member of the Underground assured me
man. While paying lip service to the Hun, he
worked with the Maquis He's starring in
tiny theatre in the Montmarte, once again
the big boy Of the boulevards.
The feeling about Lucienne Boyer seems
mixed. Some say she not only sang for the
Nazis-but put her heart in it. A pretty smart
fellow told me she merely sang. prefer to
believe his version. It's easy to talk tough
{CNr hy1r 1nf3c WIT
forget that prisoner up in Sing Sing usually
strings along with the warden.
Sacha Guitry, the playwright, is something
else again. Paris agrees that he played the
Nazi game, played it eagerly and at profit.
Today, this intellectualouse strolls the Champs
Elysee, free man. But who are we to point?
I don't see anyone arresting Joe (McNazD
McWilliams.
How do the French like us? Are they thank
full to the Yanks who liberated them? Wish
pretty. They don't like G. I. Joe and vice
versa They wonder what's keeping us; why
our 10000 homesick guys don't clear out of
Paris. They have forgotten that we spent plen-
ty Of blood bailing them out, and that the
ports we are using to send our lads home
are the ports we recaptured. They have the
impudence to assert they liberated Paris
themselves General '1ke," George Patton
and the Third Army are yesterdays news
paper as far as they're concerned.
I know this is tough talk and a lot of
Frenchmen won't like it, but I'm not a paid
ambassador of good will, and I'm calling the
shots as saw them two weeks ago. If the
French were smart, they'd be nice to G. I.
Joe. He happens to be Uncle Sans favorite
nephew, and without Sam playing Santa lot
OF them are liable to die.
Senator Pepper was stopping at the same
hotel, and I saw good deal of him. Travel
ing the hard way-by boat, bus and droshky
about foreign affairs, let's listen. He didn't
learn 1t from a movie travelogue. I found
him sincere, charming and liberal without be-
ing looney.
As for their musical shows let's be kind.
They're producing with bits and pieces. 1 saw
the FolieS Bergere and the Casino de Paree
revue-Minsky with old sequins.
Do you remember Dolores, the statuesque
darling of the Fo1lies? I saw her at the Ritz
Bar-as beautiful as ever. was told that
she and her husband helped many hunted
people hide out.
The black market is national disgrace.
At the dinner table of q nnoneyed man in
London you get saccharine n condensed
milk with your coffee, apologies and very lit
tie meat. He's playing the game. At similar
table in Paris you find big gobs of butter,
pears, grapes, chickens, cheese He's playing
it the French way. No wonder they idolize
De Gau1le - their outstanding noveltyA-a
| square shooter in bankrupt clip joint.
| I went into jewelry shop-thought I'd buy
my wife little coning-home present-ad.
| mired a gold bracelet and asked the price.
The salesman told me what it weighed-that
II brought in so many pennyweights in gold
watches or gold teeth, might have it. But
they weren't trading gold for paper. I wish
some OF the pipe smoking phonies who write
pompous papers knocking the gold standard
could 60 over. They might start listening to
Mister Baruch and stop wisecracking about
the gold at Fort Knox
| By some miracle, Picasso, Spanish Jew
and bitterly anti-Franco is still alive and
painting. Gertrude Stein is still making with
the Intellectual doubletalk Derain played pot
sy with the Noisy.
| The beauty of the new French clothes
escaped me. Their hats confused me. I don't
happen to care for feather luck in an
eggplant. It's about time our lovelies stopped
falling for foreign labels. Hattie Carnegie in
New York and Adrian in Hollywood can run
them around the block. AS for their prices,
whew! Twelve hundred dollars for dress,
| $3.50 for pair of high-heeled shoes. A we'll
dressed mademoiselle has, paid $4,000 for
what's on her back. And don't ask me where
Il she got If