Word: thinned
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...force. Out of hospital, back on duty as commander of the Armored-Force last week went Major General Adna Romanza Chaffee, a pioneer tanker who fought for recognition of armored units long before Hitler sold the idea of a separate Armored Force to the U.S. General Staff. Wan, reedy-thin in mufti, General Chaffee for his homecoming to Fort Knox had a review of the First Division. His men were happy to have him back, happy that last week's orders left him in command of the new Armored Force Headquarters at Fort Knox. For the word had gone...
Onetime A.E.F. artillery captain, Jack McCloy has been in Washington since September as special assistant to War Secretary Stimson. Manhattan Private Banker Robert Abercrombie Lovett was appointed Assistant Secretary of War for Air, a spot that has been vacant since Herbert Hoover's time. As a special assistant, thin-cheeked Bob Lovett, wartime naval aviator and wearer of the Navy Cross, has been hard at work since De cember on Air Corps problems, carries the hope of Army airmen that he will give them the kind of representation they need in high Army councils...
...usual Thorne Smith transmogrification in which Joan turns ghost, floats over to Topper's house, lures him, his wife (Billie Burke), her maid (Patsy Kelly) and his colored chauffeur (Eddie Anderson) back to the scene of the crime for a dose of spooks. Before Topper points a thin, hesitating finger at the murderer the film shows: Billie Burke in her familiar role as an addlepate; gravel-voiced Eddie Anderson falling through trap doors, rasping protest; Carole Landis' highly touted legs; Patsy Kelly cracking wise...
...Peter Pan of British Politics." And finally, "the impact of his personality was so shattering that I felt, when I left his service, that this had been the private secretaryship to end all private secretaryships." Net result: I Was Winston Churchill's Private Secretary is a short, thin, intimate sketch infused with adolescent adoration...
...Francis Hyde Bang's biography is a rather docile portrait of a personable, energetic, businessman-of-letters making good through capitalizing a bottomless facility for thin wit. It also evokes a rather sterile era in U.S. cultural history. The merry dinners of Bangs and his circle still echo bloodlessly in Manhattan's Century Club, and their humor, which used to roll the genteel families of this continent in the aisles, still lives palely in a few faculty-censored class annals. Today it seems hard to believe that a whole generation could laugh at both Bangs and Mark Twain...