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article number 745
article date 12-20-2018
copyright 2018 by Author else SaltOfAmerica
We Enter War . . . Celebrities Keep Our Soldier’s Spirits Up, 1943
by Yank magazine writers


FIRST GLIDER PILOT — S/Sgt. W. T. Sampson received the first glider pilot’s wings awarded by the Army and Marlene Dietrich was one of the first to congratulate him.


HERE’S WHAT HAPPENED — Ensign Donald Mason, who sent the famous radio message “Sighted sub, sank same,” gives more details to Betty Grable while Ruth Hussey listens at right. In the rear are Carole Landis, Claudette Colbert and finally Lieut. George Welch, who shot down four Jap planes at Pearl Harbor.

Ann Miller, Now Blonde, Wants to Entertain A.E.F.

Ann Miller would like to take her long, beautiful dancing legs overseas to entertain G.I.’s.

Ann Miller is a blonde now. She was a brunette. Either way she keeps eyes open wide when she taps fast to rhumbas, to sambas, to any music or to no music at all.

She played camp shows before.

“At Shelby in Mississippi I came down with something they called the Shelby Cough from dust I got in my throat on the range. I shot a machine gun there and I got some bullseyes.”

The boys liked her at camps.

At Albuquerque, New Mexico, they named a searchlight battery after her. She was down there for a premiere of “Too Many Girls” before the bombs were even on their way to Pearl Harbor.

“There were pictures and receptions and everything,” she said in her dressing room backstage at the Paramount on Times Square. “They named the battery the ‘Annie Millers.’ It was fun and good publicity and so on.”

The “Annie Millers” didn’t rest in Albuquerque. They went on to Bataan. And then they went on to Tokyo.

“I had one letter while they were still there fighting,” Ann Miller said. “They wanted pictures and things.”

She’s trying to get some word to them, to get them the pictures they want. She isn’t too hopeful.

“They say Red Cross can see that prisoners get things, but I just don’t trust those Japs.”

Overseas Ann Miller would have a hard time getting the sheer opera length silks that set off her legs. But sheer opera length silks are hard to get anywhere now and she still wants to go overseas.

“One more picture in Hollywood. This ‘Life of Marilyn Miller,’ I hope — that’s what I went blonde for — and then I want camp show work where it will really do some good, where the men are lonely and need entertainment.

“Tell them, when you write, that I’ll be seeing them.”

Ann Miller and her new blond hair.

Some Change!

Carol Bruce, alas, has changed.

Not so long ago, the Sultry One was interested only in maintaining the morale of the nation as a whole.

This she accomplished by varied methods, the most interesting of which were (1) modelling strapless bathing suits; (2) singing sexy songs, accompanied by appropriate torso movements; (3) standing around in panties and brassiere in the musical comedy “Louisiana Purchase”; and (4) playing movie scenes in a state of partial undress, with such Hollywood characters as Abbott and Costello and the Ritz brothers.

Now La Bruce has turned to the far nobler task of maintaining the spirits of the Army. But something has gone wrong with her philosophy.

She visits Army camps like mad. She looks up all the boys she used to know from Broadway, Hollywood, and the Borscht Circuit. She picks up hitch-hiking G.I.’s and gets them dates with her kid sister, Marilyn. She sells war bonds.

She sings such patriotic tunes as “God Bless America” and “I Left My Heart At The Stage Door Canteen.” She presents photographs of herself to Army pilots, so they may have something pleasant to contemplate as they wing into battle.

The U.S.O. is happy. The Hollywood Victory Committee is happy.

But somehow, as one private put it, she just ain’t cookin’ with a blue flame.

Please, Carol. Can’t you model a few strapless bathing suits again? Or sing a few songs, accompanied by appropriate movements of the torso? Or maybe do the scene from “Louisiana Purchase” where you just stand around in—(see third paragraph—No. 3.)

You have no idea what that would do to our spirits.

Carol Bruce.


‘TAINT FAIR. Having an armful of Rita Hayworth should be luck enough for one soldier. But imagine the same guy having the other arm filled with Dorothy Lamour. Just goes to show what the name Gene Autry will do for a man. The screen cowboy, now a sergeant in the Air Force, attended war benefit party in Beverly Hills, Cal.

Hayworth Has Breakdown

Rita Hayworth had a nervous breakdown. Her doctor said she had overworked herself in a recent tour of Army camps.

Beautiful Rita Hayworth, touring Army camps, suffered a nervous breakdown.

She Likes Soldiers

(And Soldiers Like Her)

IF ANY Hollywood starlet deserves a medal, it is Ann Rutherford. She deserves one for working her pretty figure to the bone playing camp shows for soldiers, for putting pretty shadows under her pretty eyes selling bonds, and for appearing in 11 Andy Hardy pictures.

Playing for the soldiers is her favorite of the three diversions. “Soldiers are most charming,” Ann says. “They are perfect gentlemen. They are not at all shy.”

Ann went around with a camp show called "The Razzle Dazzle Revue” and was such a hit that they made her an honorary staff sergeant at Camp Lee. Va. She even has documents from Washington to prove it.

“I met so many boys from home on that tour,” Ann says. “It seems that everyone I know is in the Army.”

Home for Ann is the West Coast, where she was raised after spending her formative months in Toronto. After a normal childhood, with a little radio work on the side, Ann broke into pictures at the age of 16.

“My first picture was called ‘Waterfront Lady,’ “ Ann says with hardly a shudder. I even did a serial called ‘The Fighting Marines.’” She repressed a shudder.

After this stint in the salt mines, Ann went to Metro and became a bona fide starlet. She did 10, count ‘em—10 Andy Hardys there and then they sold her to Twentieth Century-Fox. This proved to be very canny trading, since Metro promptly borrowed her back again for another Hardy and a picture with Red Skelton.

At the moment Ann is free of movie jobs and is considering offers to go to Iceland, Panama or the Caribbean to entertain the boys. “I don’t know which to take,” she says. “It’s all so exciting.”

Miss Ann Rutherford.


IN IRELAND, Pvt. Sherman Vaughan, of Somerset, Ky., wakes in his hospital bed to a pleasant surprise: movie actress Patricia Morison, touring entertainer.

Life With Peggy

THE captain of a U. S. battleship anchored off a U. S. port was doing a spirited Russian hop-dance. He sat in a squatting position and flung his legs forward and backward. Every now and then he’d lose balance and descend with a loud thump on that portion of a Navy captain which is largest and most sensitive.

On his head he wore a pink crepe-paper baby bonnet. His sailors, clustered over the deck and perched like pigeons on the 16-inchers, loved it. They laughed from the belly.

The captain was putty in the hands of Peggy Alexander, a small brunette bundle of vitamin B-1 who is USO entertainer extraordinary to soldiers, sailors and marines.

Peggy started dancing when she was five and has been dancing almost continuously ever since. It may have stunted her growth (she’s on the wee side), but it didn’t hold back her personality, spelled sex appeal.

Her act, for the benefit of those who haven’t yet seen it, is sweet and simple. She does toe routines and tap routines and sings. She comes out in a diaphanous white gown and the diaphanous white gown comes off. She has never had a complaint from a camp Chaplain. Under the diaphanous white gown is a sorta white playsuit.

In this costume and others, Peggy gets down to business. She hails unwary enlisted men and officers to the stage, calling them by name. She slaps baby bonnets on their noggins and puts them through her own three-ring circus version of “follow-the-leader.”

She does shows in the afternoon. She does shows in the evening. Then she goes to service dances.

All this could be very wearing, but Peggy thrives on it. Even the service dances. “Because I’m small,” she says, "they all think I must jitterbug. I don’t, but I struggle along the best I can. The men are so darn nice and give us such a swell hand. I’d like to go everywhere.”

Most of the posts Peggy visits are full of men with messages they’d like her to deliver to folks at home. They run to the “say-hello-to-mother” school, but Peggy remembers one talented exception.

“If you’re ever in Cleveland,” pleaded this Newfoundland infantryman, “stop at Mike’s Bar and Grill. Just go ha and tell them, ‘Joe says hello.’ Tell who? Anybody you see there. Just ‘Joe says hello.’”

Miss Peggy Alexander.

First Girl Messenger Gets Visitor

Camp Bowie, Tex., has its first girl messenger driving a pick-up truck. She’s Lois Men McIver, who has what it takes to drive a truck. That’s Rita Hayworth, who recently visited the camp, staring in wide-eyed admiration.

Rita Hayworth Meets Bowie’s Lois McIver.


"IT’S ON account of you soldiers,” Margie Hart said with a scornful tilt of her red head. “They closed up all the burlesque houses so you wouldn’t be corrupted. That’s the way I hear it.

“Me, corrupt you!” She removed a long leg from the dressing room table and stomped her foot for emphasis. “I don’t corrupt anybody. Why I could be in the Daughters of the American Revolution, if I wanted!”

We agreed soothingly that Miss Hart was right. That she wouldn’t corrupt nobody, no-how. It is our experience that when well-proportioned redheads get a certain glint in their eye it is better to keep silence.

You’ve seen Margie, if you’re lucky, slowly shedding her garments on the stage of your local burly house. Margie sheds her garments with grace and appeal. Every man who watches her goes home to his wife in a somewhat better frame of mind than the one he left her in. If he doesn’t have a wife, maybe he’ll reconsider and get one after seeing Margie.

Naturally anyone as nice as Margie likes the Army. Even before Pearl Harbor she had a plan afoot to send her picture to every lonely lad in the service. Difficulties and regulations interfered but they didn’t extinguish the spirit of friendship. It still burns and well it may, for Margie has two nephews in the Marines, a brother in the Navy Air Corps and, to top it all off, she plans to marry a soldier.

Margie has shown the extent of her Army friendship in more than words. At Camp Chaffee, Ark, she and her kid sister relieved two doggies from KP. It was more than a publicity stunt; the gals actually pitched in and peeled potatoes. “There were piles and piles of them,” Margie remembers.

The only place where Margie’s devotion falters at all is at Service Club dances. She’s been to a good many, but she doesn’t dance anymore. “I just stand on the sidelines now and cheer,” she said. “Sure I get some dirty looks, but the grind is just too tough, even compared to burlesque.”

Margie’s out of burlesque for the moment. Which means that she’s doing the same things she used to do in burlesque only she’s doing them in a show called “Wine, Women and Song.”

She finds it even more wearing than the old circuit. “In this I have to be in skits and everything else,” she said. “In straight burlesque all I did was go through my number, take it off, and then I was through till the next show.”

About her recent fling at the movies she prefers not to talk. “It was murder,” she says.

Margie’s solid in shape, alluring and attractive. One thing more makes her stand out from her contemporary sisters in disrobing. “I promise faithfully,” Margie promised faithfully, “not to write a novel, or even poetry.”

Margie Hart.


IT SEEMS unjust. Some pretty girls are honorary staff sergeants, some are honorary lieutenants and captains and majors and colonels. But Madeleine Carroll, that beautiful dish, is just a private first class in Battery F of the 265th Coast Artillery.

Of course, Madeleine is also Daughter of the Regiment to the 116th Infantry (an honor conferred before Pearl Harbor), and that may make up for her lack of rank in the caisson-rolling outfit.

Madeleine, when we saw her, had just finished doing a short-wave broadcast to U.S. soldiers everywhere for YANK’S own broadcast, “G.I. Jive.” She was fidgeting about catching a train to Canada where she was due to put in an appearance for the Victory Loan campaign.

After Canada she returned to work at the United Seamen’s Service where she helps plan entertainment for the Merchant Marine. A busy girl.

Madeleine really has a stake in the war. Her own pedigree—French mother, Irish father (her name was originally O’Carroll), English upbringing, American screen career—makes her sound like a composite of the United Nations. And her husband, Stirling Hayden, is, as of a very recent date, a U.S. Marine.

This definitely doesn’t mean she neglects the Army. She wears her Pfc. stripe proudly and carries in her handbag the warrant to back up the stripe as well as a pass permitting her a six-hour leave from her organization, the 265th CA.

The Coast Artillery boys were quartered near her home in California and she furnished them with constant entertainment. Her one rule was never to go out with anyone above the rank of buck sergeant, but, when an attractive top kick showed up at her home with two corporals on 24-hour leave, she broke the rule.

She took the trio with her on her own working routine. They went to the studio and watched her work under the glaring lights. They had lunch at the commissary and toured the studio in the afternoon. They went back home and ate with her.

The blow fell when they found she expected them to share her usual morning reveille at 5:30. It was just too early after such a hard day. Bolstered with aspirin and coffee, the hall-awake noncoms wove back to camp—a full hour earlier than they had to report.

Madeleine Carroll.


DECORATED. Actress Claire Luce returns to America from England, loaded with insignia from soldiers she’d been entertaining.


VERONICA LAKE is little. Veronica Lake is tough.

Consider this scene: Miss Lake is selling bonds in Everett, Wash. The crowd is enthusiastic about bonds and Miss Lake. People push and shove and get out of hand. Miss Lake, hair and all, finds herself colliding, and not lightly, with a jeep. The jeep won’t give way and Miss Lake won’t give way much. The result is a gash on the Lake forehead.

This true experience and others haven’t soured Miss Lake either on the Army or on bond selling. They go hand in hand for her. She’s been on a Treasury-sponsored bond tour and on countless impromptu bond campaigns of her own. Always, one thing has impressed her. It’s the way service men respond.

“All of them,” she says, “soldiers, sailors and Marines, are the first to step up and buy bonds. They knew what they’re fighting for and what it’s worth. If everyone bought like the men in uniform, these selling tours would be simple.”

Miss Lake likes all the services, but she likes the Army best. And of the Army, her choice is the Engineers. The reason is not a love of light pontoon bridges or of double-apron barbed-wire entanglements. It’s simply that her husband is Capt. J. S. Detlie, CE.

Capt. Detlie is stationed in Seattle at present and Miss Lake is an Army wife. She’s still very much in pictures, but, whenever she isn’t at work in the studio or on a bond tour, she’s in Seattle.

Seattle, on the Pacific, is close to the war. Near it are Fort Lewis and Fort Lawton, Paine Field and McChord Field, not to mention two naval bases. Miss Lake knows them and knows their men, enlisted personnel and officers. This qualifies her to pat us on the back with: “No kidding, soldiers are my favorites. They’re gentlemen, and they have fun, too. I’ve seen them all and I know.”

Miss Lake’s early publicity (remember?) made a great point of her hair hanging down over one eye. It doesn’t hang over one eye all the time—not even most of the time. She’d like to correct this half-blind impression.

“Tell the men,” she says, “that when I’m selling bonds, I’m doing it with both eyes open.” Aid she pushed back her hair emphatically.

Veronica Lake.


DECORATED. Actress Claire Luce returns to America from England, loaded with insignia from soldiers she’d been entertaining.


JANET BLAIR took her first screen test in embarrassing circumstances. At 9 in the morning she was thrown into a series of torrid embraces with John (Bulldog Drummond) Howard.

“I wasn’t used to necking that early in the morning,” Miss Blair confesses. “I was all upset and tense about it at first, but there was nothing I could do so I finally just relaxed and enjoyed it.”

The studio executives evidently enjoyed it, too, for the next thing Miss Blair knew she was under contract to Columbia and playing a no-good minx in a picture titled “Three Girls About Town.”

Before being imprisoned in celluloid, Miss Blair (born Janet Lafferty in Altoona, Pa.) was one of the chief reasons impressionable youths hung around the local bandstand when the late Hal Kemp was playing. She sang with the band and she sang good. It was the disorganization of the outfit after Hal’s death that left her in Hollywood and led her finally to try the movies.

Today, in her spare time from picture-making, she devotes her soulful brown eyes and Petty-proportioned chassis to soldier entertainment in camps all over. The West Coast dogfaces naturally have profited most by this, but she’s covered a good part of the rest of the country and has sung and, played in radio shows like “Command Performance” that are short-waved almost everywhere.

Her devotion to the Army is only natural for, like a sensible girl, she’s engaged to a private. The lucky private is an old chum from the Kemp days, Louis Bush, who used to play piano and arrange for the Carolina maestro. Pvt. Bush is still an arranger, but the band he’s working with peddles licks for the benefit of Santa Ana Air Base in California. It’s a good band, too, even if the enthusiasm in Miss Blair’s voice when she speaks of it might be tempered with personal affection.

Miss Blair would like soldiers even if she weren’t engaged to one. She’s that kind of a girl, and the soldiers go for her in equal measure. The feeling can be summed up in the story of a flying cadet who won a date with her in a contest. He won the contest by writing the best five reasons he could think of for a date with Janet Blair.

His first four reasons were routine. She was pretty. She was shapely. She had a nice voice. She looked as if she’d be fun. His last reason was the clincher.

“Anybody,” he wrote fervently, “would be a plain damn’ fool not to want a date with Janet Blair.”

Janet Blair.


ECSTASY. This G.I. with the beautiful expression is getting his music from Fay Mckenzie, singer, who visited Fort Simonds, Jamaica, and let fly with “Kiss the Boys Goodbye.”


WAR TROUPERS. Mitzi Mayfair (left) and Kay Francis are home after covering 37,500 miles to entertain overseas.

Martha Knows Her Slit Trenches

PLENTY of times,” said Martha Raye, “I wished to God I was back home in Brooklyn.

She was back in the U.S. now, but she was talking about the three months she spent in North Africa, entertaining GIs all up and down the Algerian and Tunisian fronts.

“I lost all my clothes in one bombing,” she said. “And I got knocked out of bed in another. I was shot at one time in a plane and I spent hours under fire in a slit trench. I caught yellow fever and lost 20 pounds and once I even lost my lipstick."

"I’m going back.” she added. “as soon as I can.”

She was wearing a tan wool dress with GI buttons that the Army had made for her after a JU-88 laid some eggs on her wardrobe. By her side was a barracks bag full of stuff the guys had given her at the front. The RAF gave her a stuffed alligator and the Yanks gave her a 12-foot python skin. Someone else gave, her an Arabian fez.

“Am I too well dressed?” she said. as she put the fez on her head.

Martha, Kay Francis, Carole Landis and Mitzi Mayfair left the U.S. last fall and traveled all over the African front, giving four shows a day for the GIs they’d run into.

In Tunisia, she went right up to the front to give them her clowning. Wearing a steel helmet and with her face splattered with mud, she’d sing and dance and cavort for the guys just as she used to in Hollywood. When she found they hankered for the smell of perfume, she slapped it all over her ears.

After the other girls went away. Martha covered 100,000 miles by air,. train, car and jeep all over North Africa with one companion, a corporal she picked up at one of the camps, who could play the piano.

“What was his name, Martha?” she was asked by a lady reporter.

“I don’t think I’m permitted to say” replied Martha.

“Go on, you can tell them.” an Army press relations officer said.

“I forgot his damn name,” confessed Martha.

Martha and her barracks bag.

Joe E. Brown Traveling Showman

THE big mouthed movie actor, Joe E. Brown, has been entertaining troops oil over the Pacific war zones for the last few months. Here are three shots of Joe during his tour.

On the Fiji Islands, he seems to have found the local Joe E. Brown.
Joe E. Brown witnesses a native Fiji ceremony reserved only for only the most honored visitors.
Here, you see Joe in Australia where he’s being given a ride after making a hit with the Yanks.


LADY VISITOR. Marjorie Reynolds, touring Hollywood star, chats with noncoms on outpost duty. From their faces it’s obvious morale is going up.


SWEET DUNKING. Aviation cadets at the Army Air Training Base, Merced, Calif., give Esther Williams, actress, the toss, but that shouldn’t bother her, on ex-swimming champ.


SKI GIRL. Jinx Falkenburg of Hollywood made a mass conquest when she visited Camp Hale, Colo. Ski troopers sent her these two souvenirs as proof.


MIGRATORY BIRD. Dorothy Sarnoff, well-known soprano, came to Camp Blanding. Fla., to give some soldiers a treat for their eyes no less than their ears. Wife of Lt. Sheppard Aaronson, medical officer of the 225th lnf. Regt., she sings here in Service Club No. 1. Dorothy starred in the operetta “Rosalinda.”


These four pictures show what happened when Bob Hope entertained at the USO camp show in the Odeon Theater, London. The men stood in line to get in, and when they did well—take a look at the close-ups below. Adolphe Menjou, Frances Langford and Hal Le Roy also appeared.



VISITING TROUPERS. Fay Mckenzie, singer and leading lady in Gene Autry films, gets her mitts on a machine gun at Wendover Field, Utah, while comedian Silly Gilbert and his wife hope nothing goes off. They visited Wendover to open a new Service Club after coming back from entertaining Yanks overseas.


HONORED GUEST. Ann Sothern, film star, refuses an invitation to eat at a separate table, with honored guests, preferring to eat beans with the enlisted men. She’s sitting at the DEML mess hail, Camp White. Oreg.

No Glamor in Soldier Shows

"GLAMOR? Say, don’t make me laugh,” said Ada Leonard, crossing her legs and making a funny face. “There’s as much glamor in trouping Army camps as there is in digging slit trenches.” "Ada” rebuked her press agent, “this is for an
Army magazine.”

"So what?” asked Ada scornfully. “So who are we kidding? This glamor business—it’s getting on my nerves. Anyway, no outfit ever picked me to be the girl they’d like most to have pneumonia with or guard on a lonely South Sea Isle. And I’ve been to an awful lot of camps.”

She has, too. Ada Leonard and the 16 dolls in her All-American Girl Orchestra have been hitting Army and Navy posts on the USO coast-to-coast circuit for the past two years in straight six-month stretches. They have played practically every post in the country that has stage facilities, and a few that don’t.

Did Ada like playing for servicemen? Not especially. Then maybe she did it for the money? No, she was lucky to come out with expenses paid. For the glory? You can’t buy cigarettes and nylon stockings with glory. Possibly she was carrying a torch for a soldier boy friend?

“Listen, Dr. IQ,” flared Miss Leonard, “I’m not carrying a torch for anybody. I haven’t any boy friend in the service. Must I have a reason for playing soldier camps? I haven’t any reason. I just do it, that’s all.”

Ada Leonard was born in Lawton, Okla., 25 years ago. Her mother is Irish, her father English and they were old-time vaudeville troupers. Lawton is located a stone’s throw from Fort Sill, and Momma and Poppa Leonard used to carry Ada to camp when they entertained GIs there during the first World War. And she’s been in the show business ever since.

Playing the USO circuit, Ada explained, was mostly routine stuff plus a lot of hard work. Her nearest approach to romance was when a dog-face at Chanute Field, Ill., tried to make a pass at her in the back of a bus. “He was a little high,” she said. “I talked to him like a big sister, and he calmed down.”

The loudest applause she got was when she was playing at Camp Cooke, Calif., in January 1942. Her skirt fell down in the middle of a dance number and the fellows thought she was going to do a strip tease. But she snapped the skirt back into place and finished the dance, while gloom descended on the house.

When she played at Camp Edwards, Mass., in September 1942, her trumpet player took sick, so they picked up a soldier from the camp to fill in. They put a dress and a wig on the guy, and no one in the audience knew the difference. “He was the best trumpeter that ever played for me,” she added.

All in all her audiences have been pretty swell, except for the time she played at a certain Naval station in New England last February. The first three rows of the theater were filled with gold braid and their wives. The next five rows were empty because they had been reserved for some more gold braid that didn’t show up.

The rest of the house was loaded with sailors, and some were standing in the back. Every tune the sailors would holler and whistle, the officers’ wives would turn around and stare at them coldly. Then they’d turn back and stare coldly at Ada and her girls.

“They made me feel like I was standing in front of a firing squad,” Ada said.

Ada Leonard.


STAR IN TRINIDAD. Ilona Massey, singer and actress, made history for a lot of soldiers stationed at this Caribbean base when he paid them an unexpected visit. When she offered to shake hands all around the heart beats were deafening.


CLOSE HARMONY. This is the kind of autograph, made with lipstick, that a soldier likes best. The lucky man is T-5 John O. Gunn, shown with 20th Century-Fox starlets June Hover (left) and Jeanne Cram, visitors to Camp Perry, Ohio.


WISH YOU WERE HERE When actress Jeanne Darrell visited Liberia on a USO trip, she posed with T-4 Leon M. Blackley. He’s been overseas 1 8 months but offered to stay 18 years if she would, too.


STAR COLLECTOR. Jinx Falkenburg, movie actress collected 41 insignias and emblems during camp tours. She’s showing her bag to Pvt. Tommie Webster at B-24 Pilot Transition School, Tarrant Field, Tex.


THE-JACKPOT. This soldier has his picture took with four girls and a dog, and isn’t that a WAC hat in the rear? It was all part of a show given by Billy Rose’s Diamond Horseshoe-USO group. The dog was a GI gift to the girl who’s carrying him; the soldier is Pvt. A. F. Matthews of Camp Lee, Va.


IMPROVISING. Comedian Joe E. Brown turned up to entertain a GI audience in Italy with a hat as his only prop and made a big hit.


GYPSY’S “GIRLS.” Gypsy Rose Lee, authoress and teaser, leads a chorus of GI “beauties” at Bergstrom Field, Austin, Tex,, where she stopped on a tour of Army camps. Backing her up are Cpl. Charles Burgh, Pvt. Calvin Benell, S/Sgt. John Plewacki, S/Sgt. Olin Elliott, Sgf, Keith W. Clark and Sgt. Victor Solimine.
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