The City of New York, impersonal and anonymous, has created its own antidote in Mr. Walter Winchell, the official town crier, the most omniscient and inexorable gossip of modern times. In his daily column in a New York tabloid newspaper and his nationally syndicated articles, he exercises a tremendous power for mischief with impassive diablerie: "the so-and-sos have phfft!" or are "anticipating an Act of God" or are "having it unsealed"; "this one is that way about that one"; anyone's innocent secret may at any moment find itself howling over the land; everyman's house has a glass wall for this indefatigable reporter. Naturally everyman reads him, and the intelligentsia, being the most malicious of all classes, read him most merrily—and most anxiously. Mr. Winchell has become a national phenomenon, a hear-all, see-all, tell-all with a vast volunteer spy system. His wise and terrible eye is everywhere