People: People, Sep. 15, 1947

Such Sweet Sorrow

Rita Hayworth, back from a summer in Europe, said she still meant to divorce Wonder Boy Orson Welles. But she did have a kind word for him. "Really," she explained charitably, "he's just like anyone else."

Tyrone Power, off to Africa to spread good will for Hollywood, reduced the New York Daily News to a jelly. He soared away, reported the tabloid, "leaving lovely Lana Turner behind with a heavy, lonely heart. . . . With tears in her eyes but smiling, Lana . . . planted a warm, lingering, farewell kiss. . . . Friends wonder how Lana . . . will stand it." Standing it all right was Actress Annabella, Tyrone's estranged wife.

Sued for divorce after 24 years: excitable, English-mangling Hollywood Producer-Director Gregory Ratoff. Actress Eugenie Leontovich charged him with cruelty & desertion.

Comedian Danny Kaye moved to a hotel, leaving behind wife Sylvia, who has spent most of his career writing his song lyrics and comedy routines. "A trial separation," the couple's business manager called it, "merely for a period of readjustment." Anyway, Comedian Kaye got a chic sendoff: smartchat Vogue appeared with an interpretive photograph of him, ringed with profound symbols (a piccolo, an umbrella, a plaster brain, a yoyo, a sand pail, a fiddle, a galosh, a pop bottle, a dead chicken, a milk bottle wearing a wig).

Ralph Bellamy, star of Broadway's State of the Union, also had a sunshine-&-shadows week. Hot Organist wife Ethel Smith had sued him for separation, charged that when she played the organ for guests he flew into a rage because she stole the spotlight. Bellamy's own complaint, in answer: though he was busy onstage nights till 11:20, she only gave him till 11:45 to get home, and if he missed the deadline she locked him out. Anyway, Actor Bellamy & highball crashed the Men of Distinction gallery.

Cinemactress Marie McDonald, whose much-publicized contours have made her better known as "The Body," was out a trousseau. (She was shortly going to marry for the second time.) It went up prematurely in flames, in a fire at her ranch.

Victor F. W. Cavendish-Bentinck, Britain's ex-Ambassador to Poland (and, just before that, Ambassador-designate to Brazil), was out a job. The far-ranging diplomat broke into the news last spring when his infidelities in Chile, London, and Athens came out at his wife's divorce trial. Last week he was in the news again: he was quietly dropped from the Foreign Service after 25 years.

The Old Gang

Kurt von Schuschnigg, 49, last Chancellor of Austria before Hitler moved in, arrived in Manhattan from Italy with wife Vera and six-year-old daughter Cissy, promptly headed for Brooklyn, declaring his hope to settle there. A visitor for two months last spring, he now returned, said he, as "a refugee, a displaced person." His plan for the future? "To live a quiet life."

Buster Keaton, heavy-lidded Great Stone Face of silent films, flew into Paris for a brief new career. The once-famed comedy star, pushing 51, faced a spell of circus clowning (at a reported $200 a day). His new task, to last a month: 14 minutes of sham dueling, twice a day, with the Cirque Medrano's bandleader. His other plans for the future? "None."